Terrible Tad 15

By PatrickNaked

Copyright 2023 by PatrickNaked all rights reserved

Terrible Tad 15: The Bubble Bath

by PatrickNaked

Tad was sweating profusely. He couldn't remember ever having sweated this much before. If he could've somehow added up the volume of all the sweat that had oozed from his pores during his entire lifetime, he was sure it wouldn't equal the amount of fluid he had lost just in the past hour.

The day was incredibly hot, as all the days had been lately. But it wasn't just the ambient temperature that produced this outpouring. Excessive physical exertion was also to blame. Actually, Tad thought to himself, two evil sisters bore the brunt of the blame. Not that they would ever acknowledge this or feel the slightest twinge of guilt at what they were putting him through. They saw themselves as his owners... at least for three hours of every Saturday. In their minds, the sense of entitlement was so complete, it was unassailable. It left no room for doubt, so blame was an irrelevant concept.

Tad was racing through the woods, following a deer trail. He knew the path well, just as he knew the entirety of the woods it twisted its way through. He had played there most of his life… sometimes with friends, but often alone.

Sweat continually ran from his hair down his forehead and into his eyes, making them sting. He should've worn a baseball cap. That would've helped. His t-shirt and jeans were soaked and clung to him unpleasantly. The jeans especially were a constant irritant as they pulled at his knees and chafed at his crotch. A pair of shorts would've gone well with the cap as more suitable attire for the occasion, but Tad was always acutely conscious of displaying his bare legs when wearing shorts in public.

Recent events had done nothing to inure him to the act of exposing skin. There was the revelation that Teresa, Tracie and Ellie had, as he long suspected, watched Aunt Martha not only bathing him, but doing that other thing he REALLY didn't like to think about. Then the same trio, with the addition of that horrible Abigail girl, had seen him naked at the pool. And not just naked, but with an erection, too. Why had he so totally humiliated himself that way? Abigail was so repellent, she should've been the death of erections.

There had been that dreadful, lecherous old woman from across the street his mother had brought over to inspect every inch of him for lice he didn’t have. And that was immediately after Teresa had sat on him and stripped his shirt off to tickle and touch him till he completely lost his mind to an animal rutting instinct. What had THAT been about? Teresa had never done anything like that before. It was almost as if she had known in advance the effect that tickle attack would have on him. But that couldn’t be true.

He wished he could be like Lucas, who was so undeterred by conventional notions of modesty, he could parade himself naked in the company of girls. But Tad was the opposite… morbidly modest. And seemed destined to always be so. Each new incident he was subjected to didn’t temper him to being exposed. It would instead combine with all the previous embarrassing indignities, adding mass to the ever growing knot of mortified anxiety within.

And now there were the two sisters who had seen him naked and erect at Aunt Martha’s. Camila Cane was 11, a year younger than Tad. Lana Cane was 14. What they saw that day ran counter to the story he had fabricated to explain the event. They had assured him they’d keep his secret. But there was a price to pay for their continued silence.

Teresa had stepped in to negotiate the terms of this arrangement. Tad had hoped she could make the situation go away entirely. Teresa was quite good at that kind of thing. But this time, total victory eluded her. She was only able to reduce his compulsory attendance at the Cane household to once per week… from nine in the morning till twelve noon every Saturday. During those hours the girls had the house to themselves, and were free to do as they pleased. And for the moment, what they pleased to do was Tad.

The contract would remain in full effect until the end of the school year. At that point, the sisters would either release him if they had tired of the diversion or exercise their option to extend his obligations through the summer, with the frequency of visits reduced to every other week. Once Tad had fulfilled his commitments, their silence would be secured forevermore with no further action required on his part.

After negotiations were concluded and the Canes had left, Tad dissolved into a tantrum, windmilling his arms and wailing at Teresa, “You were supposed to make it all go away. You PROMISED!”

Teresa, already in an irritable mood, snapped back at him, “First, I never promised that. I said I’d sort it out. And I did. They had you down for two to three times a week with no end in sight. I got you once a week and one of two definite cutoff dates. I’d appreciate a ‘Thank you, Teresa, for saving my butt for the ten thousandth time’. And second, how was I supposed to make it ALL go away?”

Tad shuffled his feet, subdued at being chastised. “Murder them maybe? I’d give you an alibi.”

“Tad, I love you like an annoying little brother, but I’m NOT going to prison for you. Be satisfied with the concessions we managed to get. And remember,” she gave him a stern look that made him turn away. “This was all entirely your fault. If you hadn’t acted like such a little fool at Aunt Martha’s, she wouldn’t have given you that very public bath the Cane sisters witnessed.” Just to twist the knife, she added, “And if you hadn’t been so visibly… excited… you might not have enticed them into blackmailing you.”

Tad shouted, “I was NOT excited. That just happens. It’s just… every time Aunt Martha bathes…” He stopped. He had almost said more than he wanted anyone to hear. “Forget it.”

In truth, Teresa knew she hadn’t performed as well as she should’ve. Normally, she could’ve eaten the Cane sisters for breakfast and still had room for pancakes. They were not nearly of her calibre when it came to middle school Machiavellian manipulations. With a few well-placed innuendos and a carefully worded threat or two, she and Tad should’ve walked away with total victory. And maybe even with the tables turned and the sisters now under HER thumb.

But she had been preoccupied during the meeting, as she often was of late. There was a nagging distraction in her head that was vague and elusive in origin. When she tried to analyze the source of the agitation, it would slip away deeper into her brain. Its undefined nature was as disturbing as the effects of the distraction itself. There was something she had forgotten. Something important. And she had the uneasy sense it wasn’t the first time a crucial memory had shied away from the light of recollection. And worse, she suspected she was intentionally imposing that ignorance upon herself.

Due to the less than total victory at the negotiations table, Tad was now running through the woods at eight in the morning on the first Saturday of his servitude. Even at this early hour, the heat was oppressive. That suited his purposes. He had been ordered to present himself as the epitome of a dirty, sweaty, smelly boy so the sisters could pride themselves on the wonders they worked restoring him to cleanliness. They would check him thoroughly when he arrived to make sure that he was dirty everywhere. A shudder ran through his entire body, almost causing him to trip and fall, as he recalled the avid look in their eyes when they delivered those instructions. And how Lana Cane had emphasized that word ‘everywhere’, making it sound quite dirty itself.

Tad came upon the small pond that would be Phase Two in his preparations. He jogged completely around it, peering into the surrounding trees for anyone else who might be taking an early morning stroll through the woods. He seemed to have the area all to himself. Good. For what he had to do next, he needed privacy. And his privacy was going to be suffering more than enough that day as it was.

Stopping at the edge of the pond, he looked around apprehensively one more time, then began to remove his clothing. He needed to be quick as the nine o’clock deadline was near, but sweat seemed to have glued his t-shirt to his torso. The writhing and cursing ordeal of removing it left him panting and even more sweaty. His shoes, socks, and jeans proved easier, leaving him standing self-consciously in the outdoors in nothing but his underpants. After taking another uneasy scan about the area, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them down to his ankles. Stepping out of them, he reflected that by now he should be used to being naked outdoors. It seemed that lately he had done it at least as much as the average nudist.

Tad knelt down by the edge of the pond and dipped both hands into the water. He scooped out two handfuls of pond mud. Lifting them up to his face, he sniffed cautiously. Yuck. If they wanted smelly, he was going to give them more than their noses could handle. Within five minutes, Tad had smeared his entire body… every nook and cranny… with a thick coating of foul smelling pond mud. He had slathered it through his hair, too, turning his white-blond to a murky brown. He even smeared it into his ears. He didn't want the Cane sisters to have any cause to claim he hadn't met every stipulation. They had raised the specter of spankings should he not fulfill every contractual responsibility. And he had a strong suspicion they would seize upon any excuse to declare him in breach.

Pulling his clothes back on over the slick layer of muck, he fervently hoped the Canes would honor their promise to launder everything before he left for home. His mother would go off the deep end and never return if he showed up at the house with his clothing in this condition. And she would surely make him undress in the backyard before letting him into the house. That would give any neighbors who’d missed his lice inspection a chance to redress their loss.

Leaving the pond, he took a different trail that snaked its way towards the Cane house. Tad ran faster than before. It was surely almost nine o’clock. The slimy coating of mud felt loathsome beneath his clothes. It also reminded him unpleasantly of that day at Aunt Martha’s after he fell in the mud pit behind her house. Which was appropriate… this day was a direct result. And he was sure it would follow a similar course… more nakedness, being bathed like a baby, and being handled in a place no one had a right to touch without his permission… something he had never given. This day would actually be worse. There were two tormentors and they had three hours to do with him as they pleased. And this was just the first day of many more to come.

Tad almost stopped and turned back towards home. But the thought of his fictionalized account of that day at Aunt Martha’s being blown wide open, of being mocked and ridiculed every day at school till the end of time, was more than he could endure. Since he was to be humiliated no matter what, two sisters were preferable to the entire student population.

Why oh why had Teresa let him make such a fool of himself at Aunt Martha’s? It was her job to keep him in line. Now HE was having to pay for HER failure. Luckily for her, he had a very forgiving nature.

The trees suddenly fell away as he crossed the line onto the Cane’s property. Then he had a barbed wire fence to carefully weave his way through. The Canes were probably the most affluent family in Hammond. They had more money than Lucas’ parents. And way more property. There were about a million acres of pasture, speckled with grazing cattle.

Tad avoided the cows. He had never liked the large enigmatic animals and the strange way they gazed at him. They always looked like they were deciding whether or not to trample him to death. The large house was about two hundred yards away. He prayed continually as he covered that distance. There was one more barbed wire fence to deal with, then the pasture became an expanse of lawn surrounding the house.

Despite the Canes’ money, their grass wasn’t nearly as lush and green as the lawn at Lucas’ house, probably because there was so much more to maintain. There was at least an acre of it. Tad noticed a small blackened area off to the side that actually looked burnt. He could even detect a faint scent of smoke on the air. He didn’t have time to wonder at the cause.

He had approached the house from the side. The front was around to his right. Making his way to the front door, Tad reflected on how the Cane’s house sat in the middle of their acreage. That meant there were no nearby neighbors to see him if the girls decided to start their cruel game out in the yard… which was a distinct possibility considering how his life had been going lately. He was going to start hating the outdoors if this trend continued.

Tad hesitated before the front door, his finger hovering near the doorbell button. He really, really did not want to do this. Just the thought of the hours that lay ahead made him queasy.

As he sighed dramatically and started to push the button, the door was flung wide. Camila, the younger sister, stood before him looking exasperated. “You’re LATE. By one minute. A gentleman should show ladies more respect.”

Tad’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t suppose you’d…” he began.

She cut him off. “Not a chance. Discipline and order must be maintained or society will collapse into chaos. That’s what my father always says,” she told him primly. Then her eyes widened as she belatedly took in his appearance. “Oh, my GOD. We told you to be dirty when you got here. Not to wallow in the mud like a pig.”

Her sister Lana was just then descending a spiral staircase in the large foyer beyond the door. Camila called out to her, “Tad’s here. He’s late. AND he brought about fifty pounds of mud with him.”

Lana arrived at the door beside Camila. She looked at Tad in mild surprise. "I hope you're not trying to be a smartass. We always thought you were a nice boy."

Tad stamped his foot, sending mud flying. "You said to be filthy! So I got filthy."

Lana corrected him, "We said 'dirty'. Not filthy."

Tad cried out in frustration, "What's the difference?"

Lana swept a hand out towards him, "This." she said. "This is the difference. We were going to do all this inside, but you can't come through the house like that. Go around to the backyard and we'll meet you there." The door shut before he could launch any plaintive protests.

Tad stared at the ornately carved wooden panel for a few moments before stamping his foot again and storming off around the corner of the house. "Are you KIDDING me?” he wailed.

The sisters were unspooling a long green garden hose by the time he reached the backyard. This was starting off WAY too similar to that horrible day at Aunt Martha's house... the mud, the backyard, the hose. Lana glanced up at him. "You're off to a bad start, Tad. You better straighten up. How the next three hours go determines how severe your spanking is going to be." She pointed towards a white picket fence separating the yard from a small house. "Go wait over there till we get the hose set up."

As he started to turn, Tad noticed another burnt spot in the grass. Lana told him, “Never mind THAT. Camila likes to play with matches.”

Camila exclaimed, “I do NOT. I wish everybody would stop saying that.” Looking at Tad, she found an innocent target for her anger, shouting, “You heard her. Get over there!”

While Tad stood waiting, growing more nervous and agitated, he noticed movement on the other side of the picket fence. Leaning down to look closer, he saw three children... two girls and a boy. The boy looked to be the youngest. They all had black hair and their skin was much darker than his own. He guessed their ages to be between seven and nine. They were on their knees staring at him through the pickets. What were they doing there? And more importantly, were they going to leave before he had to start undressing?

“Turn around,” Lana said from behind him.

Tad turned. Both sisters were there, arms crossed over their chests. He asked, “Who is that?” He pointed behind him towards the fence.

“Who is who?” Lana asked.

“Those kids. On the other side of the fence.”

Lana and Camila looked around him. “What kids?”

Tad was sure this must be part of their game. “Right there. Behind the fence. There’s three kids. They’re looking right at us.”

The sisters suddenly laughed in unison. Camila told him, “Now I understand. We hardly ever notice them. Our mom and dad don’t notice them at all. Those are the caretaker’s children. They’re from that pitiful little house behind you. They don’t matter.” Her voice changed. “Take off your clothes.”

Tad sputtered, “With those kids here? Watching?”

Camila looked impatient. “I told you… they don’t matter. Ignore them. WE do. And I’ll only say it one more time. Take your clothes off.”

Tad glanced quickly behind him, hoping the children would be gone. No. They were staring at him more intently than ever. Now they had big smiles to accompany the stares. Little brats.

He tried to make his mind go blank as he began undressing, but his traitorous clothing made that impossible. The coating of mud made his t-shirt adhere to his torso even more than it had at the pond. His struggles to remove it became so comical, even he would’ve laughed if it hadn’t been for the audience. At least his one-boy wrestling match lightened the sisters’ mood. They had been looking unnervingly grim, which was making him fear his treatment was going to become excessively punitive. Now they were smiling.

The children behind him were giggling outright. He wished he could ignore their presence as Lana and Camila did. But then, the sisters’ attitude had been so cooly dismissive, he decided he was glad he didn’t share that trait with them. This did nothing to alleviate the disgrace of having to completely strip before five sets of watchful eyes instead of two. That the caretaker’s kids were so much younger than Tad made it even more embarrassing.

When Tad was finally able to pull the shirt over his head, he heard a loud ripping sound. Oh, great. Holding it out at arm’s length, he saw a long split reaching from the collar almost to the hem. His mom was going to kill him. Till he died.

Camila said, “Oops.” The word wasn’t imbued with much sympathy.

He sat down to remove his shoes and socks. The shoes came off easily, but the socks proved more stubborn. The sticky mud made them seem like they were grafted to his feet. This gave him an idea. The longer it took to strip off his clothes, the less time the evil Cane sisters had to torment and humiliate him. He could do everything at half speed. They probably wouldn't even notice. After he slowly regained his feet, and even more slowly unbuckled his belt, Lana said, "Tad, we both love you. And your mischievous nature is one of the things we love about you. But if you don't stop stalling for time, the spanking you're going to receive for being late will take up the entire last hour of our time together today."

Tad made a little "EEP" then hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped.

There was a burst of childish tittering behind him as he bent over to pull his jeans down, revealing his no longer white briefs. Tad knew that sound was just a prelude to the chorus of laughter that would accompany the underwear's removal. He staggered out of the jeans, almost falling as he pulled them off of each foot. More laughter, from in front as well as behind him. His feeling of foolish ineptitude increased the embarrassment.

Now that he was down to just his dirty briefs, Lana and Camila moved in closer. They were staring with unabashed enthusiasm at his crotch. Lana told him to place his hands on top of his head... just like Aunt Martha had done when she made him stand naked in the yard after his bath. And the sisters hadn't even seen that part of his punishment. Was there an instruction manual somewhere they all followed? With a sullen look, he complied.

He wasn't even entirely naked yet, but he still felt a burning blush consume his face. Even though these two girls had already seen him naked in Aunt Martha's backyard, that observation had been from a distance, and he hadn't known they saw him at the time. Now they were only about three feet away, and he was very aware of their scrutiny. Stripping completely for them was going to be worse than when that horrible Abigail creature saw him naked. She had just happened upon him while he was changing. Lana and Camila were forcing him to bare himself. He was essentially their prisoner, and was subject to their every demanding and demeaning whim.

The sisters studied him for a few minutes. Tad began to tremble under their gaze. Lana then commanded him to turn around. Now he was facing the children behind the fence. They grinned and whispered to each other, never taking their eyes off of him. This was SO humiliating. They weren't even supposed to be here.

"Ok," Lana told him. "Turn back around. It's time for the undies to go." Once Tad was facing her again, she looked at his unhappy face. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You should be flattered that two girls think you're so cute they want to see and touch every bit of you. And will do whatever it takes to accomplish it. All boys should be so lucky." Tad's trembling had subsided a bit, but at the mention of touching, it resumed. He had a very good idea what that touching would entail. After a few moments, Lana gave him a warning look and she said, “Proceed.”

He bent over as he pulled his briefs down. There were shrieks of laughter from behind him. He knew what kind of view he was giving the kids. His face burned even more. He wouldn't have been surprised if it were to suddenly ignite in the first ever case of spontaneous facial combustion.

He wriggled the briefs down to his ankles and slipped them off his feet, trying to ignore the escalating amusement behind him. All that was left now was to straighten up, which would give the Cane sisters the full frontal view they had been anticipating. Camila spoke, “Drop your underwear on the ground and put your hands back on your head. We wouldn’t want you trying to cover up. Then stand upright so we can see your boy thingee. Last time was from MUCH too far away.”

Tad really, really didn’t want to reward these extortionists for their endeavors to bring him to this point. And presenting himself fully naked to them only reinforced the perception that they owned him. AND, with his emotions roiling right beneath the surface, he was afraid once he stood and they could see it all, he would burst into tears, further humiliating himself.

One the other hand, the merriment behind him continued unabated. He could feel a breeze lightly brush his scrotum, and even touch his anus, so he knew exactly what was exposed. He hoped the coating of mud obscured the finer details, but the hilarity hinted that it didn’t.

What to do? He could stand so the kids could only see his bottom. But then the Canes would see his front. Or remain bent over, displaying far too much to the kids… which would also anger the Canes into even worse mistreatment of him. The threat of that hour-long spanking loomed large within his mind.

Lana’s voice interrupted his internal debate. “Tad… what ARE you doing?” He realized he’d been holding that position for a while. Damn. He’d didn’t need anyone else to embarrass him. He did that quite well enough all on his own.

The character of the laughter behind him had changed. It had a strained quality, as though the caretaker’s children were starting to suffer from oxygen deprivation from such sustained hysterics. Tad, his head hanging between his legs, looked behind him to an upside-down image of the kids rolling about on the ground on the other side of the picket fence. They were clutching their stomachs as though in an agony of mirth. He wondered if the happiness he’d brought into their lives would prove to be lethal.

With a long-suffering sigh, Tad placed his hands on his head, and straightened up to face his oppressors. Their eyes lit up with demented delight. Camila told her sister, “I was going to wash him off first, but I think I want to see what he feels like under all that mud.”

Lana agreed. They converged on the dirty boy like vultures to roadkill. It took all the self-control Tad possessed to stop himself from shrieking and running away. Two sets of hands slid all over his chest and stomach, his underarms, his bottom, and his genitals. They squeezed and caressed, fondled and stroked. They worked well in tandem. While Lana would knead one buttock like bread dough, Camila would work on the other. While Camila cupped his scrotum in her hand, rolling his testicles around within their sack, Lana would be gripping his penis, stroking it to hardness.

Tad gritted his teeth and endured their appropriation of his body with silent rage. And his fury wasn’t only directed at the sisters. He hated himself for becoming hard beneath their touch.

Lana was bending over so she could look at his penis from only inches away as she manipulated it. She glance up and said, “Don’t try to tell me you don’t enjoy this.”

Tad DIDN’T enjoy it… and yet he did. He experienced physical gratification as she handled him. But being forced to feel such a private pleasure against his will was the ultimate violation. He found himself wishing they’d inflict pain, instead. Then he remembered that part was coming, too.

The laughter behind him had ceased. Had the kids actually died of asphyxiation? More likely, they were suddenly very confused about what was going on. This was no longer a comical scenario where someone loses his clothes. It had become something with darker, more adult undertones children of their age couldn’t decipher. The proceedings had taken a path they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, follow.

Tad started making little quick breathy noises as Lana pumped him closer and closer to that final moment. Camila snapped at her, “No. Don’t let him do it yet. It’s too soon.” Lana agreed and released his penis.

Tad whimpered, “Oh… oh man.” He felt a desperate unfulfilled need between his legs. He had been SO close. His whole body had been brought right to the edge of that moment, and then had been denied that delicious release. In his mind, he was thankful. He did NOT want these girls to see him ejaculating… and see and hear the reactions he knew he’d be unable to suppress. But the part of him that was driven by physical urges was silently screaming for Lana to continue. Just a few moments more and she’d bring it to completion.

The two halves of Tad… the side of him that seethed at being forced into such a physical sensation, and the side that had been denied that urgent ending… combined to utter a single, bitter word. “Bitch.”

Camila looked at her sister. “Oh, my. I think Tad just called you an ugly name.”

Lana agreed. “I believe you’re right, Camila. And here we had thought he was such a NICE boy.”

Camila said, “I think it’s time to move on to the next stage… where we examine him THOROUGHLY to see if he complied with our instructions to be dirty EVERYWHERE.”

“Obviously, I did,” Tad cried. “Y’all were both complaining that I did it too much. You said I was TOO dirty.” He had hoped by coating himself in such an excessive layer of mud, he’d be so obviously in compliance they’d forego the examination. That had already backfired as he was too muddy to bring into the house. Consequently, his audience was more than doubled by the caretaker’s children. Teresa often told Tad he was his own worst enemy. He was beginning to see the truth of it.

As much as Tad wanted to circumvent the examination process, knowing how up close and intimate it would be, he knew that hope was now lost. Even if there had been a remote chance they would forego it before, they were surely going to inspect him now as a purely punitive measure. Maybe he shouldn’t have used that word. It never made the situation that provoked it any better. Teresa hadn’t reacted well to it either, the last time he had been covered in this much muck.

There were so many parallels between this day and that day at Aunt Martha’s house, Tad was beginning to feel like his life was caught in a loop. Maybe he had died that day… sucked down into the mud pit and drowned. Maybe this was Hell. That would explain the nature of all the days that followed. Would his eternity be endless humiliations, each one worse than the last? What had he ever done to deserve this punishment?

But then he reflected, his Hell had started long before the day of the mud pit and the backyard bath. It all began with one of his earliest memories. The common factor was Aunt Martha. She had been present for almost every moment of his personal Hell. And the times she wasn’t physically present, she was the catalyst.

Lana spoke. “Turn around again and lay down on your stomach. We’ll start with the back and work our way to the front.”

Tad turned around before prostrating himself in the grass. There was a brief problem with his erection. It hadn’t lost any of its rigidity. When he tried to lay down, his penis didn’t want to press all the way against his stomach. An exasperated Lana finally told him to dig a little hole in the dirt for it. The nature of this problem and its solution only embarrassed Tad even more. Camila laughed and said, “He’s probably never put it in a hole before.”

Lana and Camila started at the soles of his feet. Camila commented, “Well, his feet are certainly dirty.”

Lana replied, “That doesn’t mean anything. Boys probably never wash their feet.”

They slowly, meticulously worked their way up his legs. When they reached his bottom, they made him spread his legs as wide as he could. He had known this was coming, but that foresight didn’t make it any more bearable. He buried his face in the grass. The girls spent an inordinate amount of time on that area. He couldn’t stop himself from making a little noise of distress when they spread his bottom cheeks. This only encouraged them to examine further.

Camila commented to her sister, “I didn’t know boys’ balls stuck out past their bottom when they lay on their stomach.”

Lana laughed. “Where did you think they’d go? You’d probably see the end of his wiener, too, if he wasn’t hard and it pointed in the other direction.”

Camila lamented, “What I can see of his balls are dirty, but I can’t see the rest.” Her voice took on the commanding tone they both used when giving Tad instructions. “Get up on your hands and knees.”

Tad sighed miserably as he pushed himself up. This was definitely Hell. Now the girls had full access to his scrotum. Four hands handled it, turned it to either side, lifted it. Fingers would occasionally stray forward to run along the underside of his rigid penis. All that touching was going to make him spontaneously ejaculate. He felt SO close to that moment. He wondered and worried if he should tell the girls.

He had been staring down at the grass, but now lifted his head up to speak. In doing so, he saw the three caretaker’s children sitting on the other side of the fence. Their hands were wrapped around the pickets. Their eyes stared at him in solemn regard. They looked almost sad. Were they sad for HIM? They had laughed at him earlier when his plight had probably seemed to just be a case of awkward nudity in an unusual setting. But the laughter was long gone. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile.

Maybe they too had suffered at the hands of these girls. From the sisters’ dismissive comments, the children had more likely felt the sting of total disregard… of being seen as so lowly they weren’t seen at all.

One of the children… the girl who looked to be the oldest… raised her hand as if in greeting. Tad nodded in reply. At that moment, the sisters parted his buttocks again, and Tad’s face contorted in a fresh wave of humiliation. The little girl who had greeted him closed her eyes and turned away.

Lana told her sister, “Some areas aren’t quite dirty enough. But that’s probably because your hands were all over him and rubbed some of the mud away.”

“MY hands?” Camila responded in outrage. “I didn’t see YOU sitting back all prim and proper. Your hands are dirtier than mine.”

“Wrong. I thought for a moment YOU were about to give him a prostate exam.”

“What ab…” Camila stopped, then asked, “What’s a prostate?”

Lana didn’t know exactly what it was, but she did know how a doctor checked it. She had overheard a boy at school telling a another about his recent doctor visit, and how that other boy would soon know the horrors of it firsthand.

As Lana explained to Camila what the procedure entailed, Tad recalled his one and only… so far… experience with that overly intrusive examination. It had been a routine visit to the doctor. Or so Tad had been led to believe. As usual, his mother refused to leave the room. She believed in being front and center in all things related to her only child. She thought his cries for privacy were silly and puerile.

Her indifference to this need manifested in many ways. During disciplinary action, she would always spank him bare-bottomed. She would also avail herself of the opportunity these spankings provided by conducting hygiene checks while she had him naked over her knees. Boys would be remiss in their wiping if you let them.

She thought nothing of delivering freshly folded towels to the bathroom while Tad was in the shower… a big open stall with no curtain. Even worse, sometimes he would be using the toilet. She would chide him for his objections by reminding him she had changed his dirty diapers when he was a baby. That those diapers were more than a decade in the past didn’t dissuade her attitude or entry, and probably wouldn’t for many years to come.

Whenever Tad was ill and had a fever, the thermometer never passed his lips. Its destination was a more southern region on the map.

And then, there was the very recent episode of the non-existent lice infestation. She had even brought that two-thousand year old lecherous mummy over to compound his embarrassment. The creature probably would’ve drooled all over him if it hadn’t been such a dried out husk.

So, despite Tad’s persistent pleas for privacy, sitting outside in the waiting room while her son had a medical checkup was unthinkable. The doctor might need her expertise.

This appointment was to prove more invasive of Tad’s privacy… and body… than any before. The doctor, a big burly man of middle age, informed Tad’s mother that a few new procedures were required now that Tad had obviously started puberty. Tad cringed upon hearing that word. He didn’t like it. Even the sound of it was embarrassing. And he didn’t like people, especially his mother, knowing he was going through that process… that his body was becoming more sexual. It was such a personal matter. What was he going to do once hair started growing between his legs? He couldn’t let his mother see THAT.

The exam began with the usual routine. Tad first had to undress down to his underwear, then sit on the examination table. His mother sat in a chair directly across from him.

The doctor opened the door and called for nurse to come take the boy’s blood pressure. When no response was forthcoming, the doctor grumbled and stalked off down the hall, leaving the door wide open. He gave no more thought to Tad’s modesty than his mother did. At that point, it seemed everyone in the building was suddenly channeled down that one hallway. People paraded back and forth… doctors, nurses, patients, parents… and all had to look through that open door to see what lay beyond. What they saw was a blushing boy in his white briefs. As this was a pediatrician’s office, all the patients who saw him were around Tad’s own age. And a sizable portion were, of course, female. Boys and girls alike giggled at his state of undress and discomfiture.

“Mom?” Tad asked hesitantly. “Can you go close the door, please? People can see me.”

Mom, reading a magazine, answered distractedly, “No one is looking at you, Tad. Why would they do THAT?” At that moment, a mother with her daughter in tow stopped to talk to a nurse coming from the opposite direction. All three were framed in the open doorway. As the adults conversed, the girl stared at Tad with brazen glee. Luckily, he didn’t recognize her. She must attend the town’s other junior high school.

Tad’s blush burning brighter, he placed his hands over his crotch. His mother, not even looking up from her magazine, told him, “Take your hands away from there. We’ve talked about that. And while we’re here, I’m asking the doctor about how much you play with yourself.” The girl’s mouth dropped open in delighted surprise.

His mother continued, “Didn’t know I knew about that, did you?” Tad wasn’t listening. He was wondering if he should jump down and go close the door himself. He’d be free of prying eyes and ears, but he’d be two feet away from that hateful girl before he could close the door. She’d get a much closer look at him. And his underwear. “I know about your towel. The one you keep under your bed,” his mother said, turning a page of the magazine. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it? It was disgusting.” The girl had her hands over her mouth, trying to contain her laughter. “I threw it away this morning. There was no way I could wash it enough to make it fit for further use.”

Tad tried to jump down from the table to go slam the door as hard as he could, but he was rooted to the spot. The doctor had told him to sit there, and he was accustomed to following the orders of authority figures. Most of the trouble he got into was from a distinct lack of thought in the choices he made, not from outright disobedience.

Now the girl was making a hand motion that clearly mimed masterbation. How did she even know about something like that? Dirty girl. His mother carried on with the lecture. “I grew up with brothers. I know what boys do. But they weren’t nearly as obsessive as you.” Tad was screaming at her in his mind, “Shut up shut up shut UP!”

He almost bleated out his gratitude when the doctor and a nurse returned and actually closed the door. The nurse made Tad hop down, then directed him to the scales by the wall. That was a fairly recent addition. Until last year, boys were led down that damned hallway in their underwear to be weighed. Girls were weighed in their clothes before being taken to an exam room. Tad had always thought that to be horribly unfair.

After noting his weight and height, the nurse took his blood pressure with the cuff that always felt like it was going to strangle his arm to death when she tightened it by pumping the black rubber ball. Then came the part he REALLY dreaded. For children Tad’s age, their temperature was usually checked orally. But Tad’s mother didn’t trust the accuracy of that method. She insisted on the use of an anal thermometer.

So, as always, Tad had to remove his underwear and climb back onto the table, lay on his side with his knees drawn up, and endure the penetration of his rear end by a glass tube… all the while trying not to think about how the nurse could see his anus. It was always worse for some reason when the nurse was one of the younger ones.

When she was finished, as always, the doctor told his mother the next stage of the examination was usually conducted with the patient still wearing his underwear, but since Tad’s had been removed, they would just proceed as he was. He directed Tad to sit up on the table. The nurse, no longer needed for the moment, left the room. The door was not open for longer than five or six seconds, but that was sufficient time for a boy and his mother to get a fleeting glance at Tad sitting naked on the exam table. The boy looked alarmed, probably wondering if he was about to be similarly exposed to passing strangers.

At least it wasn’t that girl. He’d hate it if she got to see him in AND out of his briefs. He couldn’t stop thinking about how she not only had seen him in his underpants, but had heard of his private nighttime activities. And THEN, rather than demonstrate any sympathy at all, had callously mocked him.

The doctor asked, “How are you doing today, Tad?”

“Bitch,” he replied. The word that had been on his mind had just popped out of his mouth all on its own.

The doctor looked at him quizzically. “Excuse me?”

His mother exploded, “TAD!”

“I… I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” It was that ‘own worst enemy’ thing all over again. His mother was giving him a look that promised painful repercussions to his backside when she got him home.

The doctor was more forgiving. He told Tad’s mother, “Boys his age are going through a lot of changes. It can cause mood swings and unpredictable behavior. It’s to be expected.”

He proceeded to go through the litany of other standard checks. Looking down Tad’s throat, up his nose, and into his ears. Checking reflexes with the little hammer. Listening to his heart with the stethoscope, in front and back. Then having Tad lie down so he could poke and prod and squeeze all around the boy’s stomach and the area just above his genitals. Tad was used to this, if not quite comfortable with it. He was also not quite comfortable… actually very UNcomfortable… with how his mother always got up from her chair to watch this stage of the proceedings. She would sit out the preliminaries, like weight and height, but was quite attentive when the exam began in earnest.

It was at this point the exam careened into new territory. The doctor’s hands ventured even further down to handle Tad’s penis and scrotum in an overly familiar way. Tad had been dreading something like this, having been forewarned by the doctor’s remarks about puberty. But the reality was much worse than he’d feared. First, his mother was right there, watching every moment of it. Second, his penis was exceptionally sensitive. He could feel the beginnings of its usual response to being touched. His brain started sending urgent messages to his penis, “Abort! Abort! It’s a man touching me. Those are male hands, not female. And my mom is watching. Down, boy. Down, boy.” But his penis was disregarding all incoming communications. It sprang to life even as Tad was intentionally biting his tongue in hopes the pain would derail his erection.

His mother once again yelled, “TAD!” The doctor explained that this too wasn’t uncommon in boys Tad’s age. They were awash in a sea of hormones. A stray thought or a stray breeze could trigger an erection. Nothing to worry about.

Then came the coup de grace… something Tad couldn’t have prepared himself for because he had no idea a doctor would do such a thing. The doctor had him get off the table, stand facing it, then bend over. Tad thought he must be about to get a shot, but he couldn’t imagine for what. Was there a puberty shot? The doctor donned a rubber glove, then greased up his forefinger. Tad was starting to have an inkling of what was going to happen next. He raised up from the table. With a trembling voice, he asked, “W… What’s that for. What are you doing?”

When the doctor explained, Tad wanted to bolt from the room. The only thing stopping him was his nudity. Looking at the doctor’s big, sausage-sized fingers brought Tad close to tears. “I don’t think it’ll fit,” he pronounced.

The doctor just laughed and told him, “You’d be surprised what’ll fit in your bottom with a little bit of lube.” Then he look flustered. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it.”

Tad prepared to make an escape, nakedness be damned. His mother saw the signs. He looked like he sometimes did when he considered running from a well deserved spanking. “Taddddd…” she said in warning. Tad still mulled over his options for a moment, then collapsed onto the table. He gripped the disposable paper cover, crinkling it in his fists. He turned his head to look at the doctor and said dramatically, “Do it. Do your worst.”

Tad learned there is nothing quite so awkward as your mother watching a man stick his finger up your butt while you’re stark naked. How could God exist in a world where that could happen?

Tad wasn’t even surprised when another nurse entered the room during that inglorious procedure, leaving the door wide open while she retrieved the blood pressure cuff for use on another patient. His face was turned away from the door, but he could hear the traffic in the hallway, and more than one childish giggle.

Now the evil Cane sisters had dredged up that awful instance to merge it with the miseries of their own making. Their tortures of the moment weren’t enough. They had to bring past humiliations to the forefront, too.

“On your back, mud boy,” Lana told him. The sisters knelt in the grass by his feet. The inspection once again started there before moving up his legs. Now that his toes were pointed upwards, the girls could more easily separate them to check in-between. Tad was surprised, and more than a little disturbed, to discover their handling of his toes was amplifying the itchy urgency between his legs. If he continued to get more excited, he knew he was going to disgrace himself.

As before, even though the coating of mud on his legs was easily seen, the girls were diligent and further assessed it through touch. They ran their hands up and down his legs in long sweeping motions. They gently squeezed the muscles. He squirmed and moaned as their hands brought him closer and closer. Camila snapped at him, “Stop moving around. You’re making it difficult.”

Both girls shifted their position till they were kneeling on either side of Tad’s midsection. The upward sweep of their hands along his legs now brought their fingers into contact with his scrotum before moving back downwards. Tad made an involuntary moaning sound with each contact. Lana and Camila glanced at each other and grinned.

Inspired by Tad’s reaction, the sisters abandoned his legs and concentrated their attention on his penis and scrotum. They lifted and turned everything ostensibly in the search for any offending spot of unsullied skin. Tad was gritting his teeth till he was afraid they would shatter.

Camila wrapped her hand around his penis and moved it forward and back as far as it would go. She told her sister, “It’s like the stick shift on Daddy’s car.” She addressed Tad, “Make some vroooming noises every time I change gears.” She shifted into second. Tad moaned. “That doesn’t sound like Daddy’s car at ALL,” she said in a pout.

Tad lifted up on his elbows. With a note of panic in his voice, he warned the girls in a shaky voice, “I’m about to do it. I can’t stop it.”

Lana asked him sweetly, “You’re about to do WHAT, Tad?” She cupped his scrotum in one hand and fondled it.

Before he could answer, Camila shifted into third. Tad arched his back till his bottom was completely off the ground. He cried out as a huge geyser of semen erupted from his penis. The power behind the burst propelled fluid all the way up to his grubby hair. It left a trail down his face to his chest and stomach. Camila altered her movement to a pumping motion, producing three more spurts of lesser volume. They were no less intense for Tad. He punctuated each burst with an inarticulate cry.

When the surge of semen became a dribble, Tad dropped back to the ground. Camila continued to pump him, watching as the remaining juice trickled to a stop. Tad’s eyes were closed. He was panting. With each exhalation, he made a whimpering kind of sound.

Camila turned to Lana with a look of awe. “That was incredible. I knew what was going to happen, but that was so much better than I thought it’d be. It’s so weird it comes out of the same hole boys pee from. I wonder if it ever gets confused and lets out the wrong stuff.”

Lana told her, “Remember, I let you have the first one. You owe me.”

Camila replied petulantly, “I know. I know. Let’s check out the rest of him so we can hose him off. I want to get him inside the house.”

Lana warned her, “Don’t get any of his stuff on your hands.”

Camila said, “I think YOU need to watch our for that. YOU’RE the one whose hands are always between your…”

Lana shouted, “Don’t you DARE say that in front of a boy.”

Camila was unimpressed with her sister’s anger. “I don’t think you need to worry about Tad at the moment. He’s still off in la-la land.”

Tad was indeed almost comatose. The capacity for coherent thought had been washed away in a flood of euphoric feeling. He still managed to be somewhat aware of four hands tracing patterns up his torso, through his armpits, down his arms.

“He’s got it all over his face. It’s starting to dribble down his cheeks. Yuck. I wonder if that happens often.” It was Camila’s voice. “How do boys keep from making a huge mess every time they play with themselves?”

“They probably just make the mess. That’s what boys do. They’re perpetual mess machines. Some of my friends say their mothers are always screaming about the stains their brothers leave all over their sheets. You’d think they’d be embarrassed.” Her voice changed. “Ok, squirty boy. It’s time to hose you off so we can get you inside for a REAL bath.”

With each girl pulling on one of his hands, Tad staggered groggily to his feet. His mind was starting to return from where the wave had carried it away. He looked down at himself. His penis was no longer hard, but still felt thicker and heavier than its fully softened state as it swung between his legs. He knew it would still be sensitive and pleasurable to touch. He saw how his ejaculate made a ragged, runny line up his torso. He could feel it on his face. Some of it trickled down his nose to hang off the tip. Oh, GOD, this was beyond mortifying. Knowing these girls had seen him like this would permeate every moment of the rest of his life.

Thinking of being seen like this, Tad remembered the caretaker’s children. He glanced back over his shoulder. The children were still there, gazing at him impassively. The boy gave him a small smile. But it held none of the mocking merriment of before. Tad was surprised to find himself smiling back. Then the wicked sisters were pulling him towards the back wall of the house where the hose was waiting.

This time, Tad’s backyard bath was only a preliminary, therefore much shorter than the previous one at Aunt Martha’s. Despite its brevity, it was amazingly unpleasant. The nozzle at the end of the hose was capable of a powerful torrent, and the girls were quite happy to use it to its peak potential. The dance he performed under its assault was comical enough to break through the three children’s somber demeanor. In-between his own yowls of distress, he could once again hear their laughter. He couldn’t begrudge them this. He knew how ridiculous he looked.

The sisters dried him off with a couple of large, thick towels. They each took one of his hands as before and began to lead him towards the back door. He took one last look back at the picket fence. The three children were standing now. They all waved to him. He couldn’t wave back, but inclined his head in return.

The bathroom of the Cane manor… or rather, the one of five bathrooms according to Lana… seemed as large as Tad’s entire house. It was on the second floor… up the spiral staircase he had seen earlier from the front door and down a long, wide hallway. The wall opposite the bathroom’s entry was composed entirely of glass bricks, letting in a flood of white light from outside. The rest of the walls were of white tile, and all the facilities, porcelain and otherwise, carried on with the same theme. There were large mirrors over the vanity areas on either wall to the left and right. The mirrors reflected and amplified the light. The overall effect was almost blinding.

Tad saw himself in one of the mirrors. Somehow, the vast bright whiteness all around him made him look even more naked than he was.

In the middle of the spacious room was a large clawfoot tub.Tad thought the placement to be odd…almost as though the tub was meant to be the center of attention. Who would want another’s attention while bathing? Tad had heard that married couples were free with their nudity around each other. If that was so, he was never going to get married. He knew his father slept in his underwear, and his mother in a nightgown. But did they also regularly see each other naked? Did they see each other in the bathtub, or doing other bathroom business? Tad grimaced. He knew what it was like to have someone… his mother… waltz into the bathroom while he was naked, or peeing, or naked AND peeing, or worse… sitting on the toilet. She had done it all of his life, and he never got used to it. Why would he marry into more of the same?

Camila was running water into the tub. Lana was retrieving a number of multi-colored glass bottles from a cabinet. As she was placing them on the floor around the tub, she saw Tad eyeing them dubiously. “Bath oils,” she told him. “AND scented bubble bath. You’re going to smell so pretty when we’re through with you.”

Tad cringed. “I’m a boy. Boys don’t smell pretty.”

Camila commented, “Well, you certainly don’t at the moment.” She turned to Lana. “Remember, we have to give him a second bath with regular soap before he leaves. He can’t go home smelling like roses and lilacs. His mother would probably appreciate the change, but she’d also know something was going on.”

Lana rolled her eyes. “I KNOW. I’m not the stupid one in the family.”

By then, the tub was filled to Camila’s liking. She and Lana started choosing from the array of bottles, pouring little dollops of oil into the bath water. Steam drifted up from the tub. To Tad, the sisters looked like a couple of witches toiling over their cauldron. That image did nothing to improve his state of mind.

He had been standing off to the side, hands over his crotch. The girls had already seen everything, and would do so again. But it was a small solace to know that, for the moment, he could hide it all from view. It gave him the impression, false as it might be, that he had some control over his fate.

Lana motioned to him. “Come on, stinky boy. Time for your bath.” She held one of Tad’s arms as he gingerly stepped into the tub. He settled into the warm, fragrant water.

The space around the tub allowed the sisters to position themselves on either side of the boy. They started at the top, shampooing his hair, which was still grungy even after the hose. Tad had to admit to himself that two sets of hands… twenty fingers… felt good massaging his scalp. He began to harden again beneath the surface of the water. Luckily, the girls had added some bubble bath soap, so his erection was hidden from view by the suds. Tad didn’t want the girls to know the effect their fingers were having on him. It would eventually be revealed, but he could enjoy their ignorance for a while.

Even though the water was thick with bath oils, the sisters each produced a squirt bottle of soap. They put a generous amount into their hands and began to work on his face, rubbing it into his skin. Lana told her sister, “Don’t get any in his eyes. If he cries, we don’t want soap to be the reason.”

As cruel as the girls could be, they were actually quite gentle in their touch. The lightness of their fingers and how they slid over his slick, soapy skin made the itchiness between his legs intensify. Tad was amazed that he could feel this growing excitement so soon after that volcanic eruption he had experienced such a short while before.

The girls moved on to his shoulders and arms, still only using their hands. Tad always used a soapy washcloth when he showered at home. The only part of his body he had ever soaped by hand in the shower was his penis, and he hadn’t had cleanliness in mind when he did so. He didn’t do that anymore after a close call when his mother entered the bathroom. He had just managed to quickly turn his back before she could see his arousal. She had questioned him about his schoolwork for what seemed like ten minutes… a conversation that surely could’ve waited till later when he was dry, dressed, and in a softened state. Talking over his shoulder to his mother, while naked in an open shower, with an erection that refused to die, was one of Tad’s more awkward moments…. right up there with the doctor and his sausage-sized fingers.

The Cane sisters, despite the trauma and torment they were subjecting him to, had at least taught him that slippery fingers along the skin of other parts of his body beside his penis could be incredibly sensual. Would it feel the same if it was his own fingers? He was going to find out, during his next shower.

Lana took him by the wrist to raise his arm. With her other hand she began rubbing soap into his armpit. Camila did the same on the other side of the tub. Tad had been dreading this moment. His underarms, along with his nipples, were exceptionally sensitive. Strangely, he never toyed with these two areas in the shower, or any other time, pleasurable as they could be. There was a certain sense of shame he associated with them due to when and how he had discovered their susceptibility. Bath time with the Canes was bringing unwanted memories to the surface.

Aunt Martha had bathed him this way when he was very young. She had loved to bathe him. He had loved to be bathed by her. Until he didn’t. But the baths didn’t cease when his enjoyment of them did. Between the ages of four and five, Tad began to feel a vague disquiet, possibly through some emerging instinct, when Aunt Martha had occasion to bathe him, even though the baths could be quite gratifying.

At some point, his uneasiness turned to fear. Aunt Martha recognized this, and her response was to make bath time even more frightening. Tad cried and begged his mother to never turn him over to Aunt Martha’s care again. His mother addressed this rebellion in her usual way. After the spanking, he would be led off to the bathroom with Aunt Martha holding his tiny hand just a little too tightly, but not so much that anyone else would notice.

Luckily, children grow and become less dependent. Once Tad was able to properly bathe himself, Aunt Martha had fewer chances to exercise her own particular tyranny. But she was a resourceful woman, and would occasionally engineer her own opportunities.

Now, Tad was once again in a tub, this time being tended by double the number of nightmarish nannies. But these two were abject amateurs next to Aunt Martha. He feared what the sisters could reveal about him if he didn’t play their demented game, but he wasn’t afraid for his life. He couldn’t make that claim about Aunt Martha. He had seen the cold fury behind her eyes when she was denied her pleasures. He remembered whispered promises of a retribution that lay waiting for little boys when they were too old to be amusing anymore.

For this reason, he had accompanied Teresa, Tracie and Ellie to her house with diminishing frequency over the years. The last time, the day he fell in that damned mud pit, he had ignored the frantic warnings of his more sensible self. Just one day… a chance to have fun with his friends. What’s the worst that could happen? Well, he was living the answer to that question. Every bad thing that had happened to him since that day could be traced back to one extremely unwise decision.

Tad was occupying himself with these thoughts in an attempt to ignore what the Canes were doing to him… and where they were doing it. He wasn’t entirely successful. His whole body stiffened ever so slightly and the rhythm of his breathing changed. The sisters, alert for any such signal, amplified their assault on his armpits. Contrary to the ordinary idea of an escalation, they softened their approach. Their fingers began to barely glide over his oiled skin with a light, feathery touch. Tad’s attempt to send his mind anywhere but the present succumbed to their caresses.

He practically writhed within the warm water, producing waves that threatened to lap over the sides of the tub. In the hollows between the waves, the head of his erect penis made momentary appearances, like the periscope of a submarine submerged in the rolling seas.

Without stopping her intimate attack, Camila told her sister, “I think he likes it. Maybe too much. We’re going to have water everywhere.” Even as she said this, a wave slopped over the side of the tub.

Lana scolded Tad, “You make some kind of mess everywhere you go.” Addressing Camila, she said, “We’d better move on to another body part. There are plenty of Saturdays to play with his little underarms later.”

Tad was finally allowed to lower his arms. He breathed a sigh of relief. But whether by coincidence or some perverse intuition, the sister’s next target was his nipples. Coming so soon after the previous exploit of his vulnerabilities, Tad’s weakened defenses were overwhelmed. His resolve to remain mentally and emotionally removed from what was being done to him… no matter how his body reacted… finally fractured under this new barrage. He capitulated completely, fully seduced by the succubi into participating in his own violation.

“Yes,” he cried out. “There. There. That’s good. Oh, God, that feels good!”

Lana and Camila looked at each other, startled but delighted in their conquest. Tad was now theirs. They had a new toy to add to their collection, and this one was so much more alluring than their old sexless Ken doll. Camila had only learned in the past year that boys had parts poor Ken had been born without. Boys had penises. And testicles. And nipples… something the girls were currently exploring, much to this particular boy’s enraptured enjoyment.

Tad writhed and wallowed within the tub even more. The sisters were so joyful to have the boy in their thrall, they weren’t even distressed at the volumes of water that now heaved over the sides of the tub. As they were directly in line with these huge tidal surges, they were soon almost as wet as the boy in the bath.

Still rubbing and tweaking one of Tad’s nipples, Lana reached down with her other hand to grasp him between his legs. So laden was the water with bath oils, his penis was slippery in her grip. Camila, not to be outdone by her sister, seized his scrotum. Tad was making little thrusting motions with his hips, as though trying to have sex with a sea nymph beneath the surface.

Lana suddenly sat back and said, “That’s enough of his nipples. I want him on his hands and knees.” Tad looked aggrieved. “Don’t worry, pervy boy. We’re not through. We have the whole rest of your body to bathe.”

Tad reluctantly changed position, sloshing even more water out onto the already flooded floor. Camila looked at his lean and oily body. “Ooooo, sister. You’re right. I like this.” She leaned over to look at his slick bottom. She ran a hand down one buttock. Lana claimed the other. They rubbed and squeezed, their fingers meeting at the middle in his cleft. With their other hands, they resumed the exploration of his genitals. They took turns with his penis and scrotum. There was a certain rivalry between the girls, but they also knew how to share.

The waves within the tub were starting to subside. The water level was much lower than it had been. The head of Tad’s penis just barely touched the surface. He vaguely realized he was being milked like a dairy cow. But at that moment, he had no sense of pride or dignity. He knew he would burn with embarrassment later, but for now the heat he felt was a molten ardor between his legs that spread to his whole body.

The sense of impending release was already upon him. He told himself it was too soon. He wanted this moment, this feeling, to last for hours. He tried to hold back that inner tide, but the girls’ hands just felt too good. The pleasure and the pressure doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled.

“I’m about to do it,” he warned. He raised up on his knees and gripped the curled edge of the tub on either side. The sisters scrambled to keep their grip on him.

“So soon?” Lana asked. She knew nothing about the shame associated with ejaculating too quickly, so meant no insult with the question. Tad was equally ignorant, so took no offense. He just knew it was about to happen. And he couldn’t stop it.

“Oooooooooooo.” He sounded like a wolf cub howling at the moon. Lana currently had his penis in hand. She pumped it furiously. Tad’s first burst cleared the bounds of the tub. The next two anointed the waters. Camila was clutching his scrotum as though trying to squeeze more fluid from his thoroughly depleted testes.

Tad suddenly felt drained in every way. His hands still gripped the sides of the tub, but his arms couldn’t hold himself up. He collapsed, sending more water over both girls and the floor around them. The entire bathroom was awash.

Tad’s normal mindset was starting to return, bringing with it a horrified realization. He had been so seduced by the physical sensations, he had become a willing accomplice in his own degradation. “Oh, no no no no nooooo,” he moaned. This moan was not one of pleasure.

Before the sisters could respond, everyone heard a sound from outside the house… a car pulling into the circular driveway and stopping by the front door. Lana and Camila had their own horrified realization. Their parents were home… much, much too soon.

Camila screamed, “Get his clothes.” Both girls started looking frantically around the bathroom. Another realization hit them. They had stupidly left Tad’s soiled clothing laying in the grass by the picket fence. None of them, including Tad, had thought to bring them inside to launder.

Lana stated in a stunned whisper, “oh dear god,” while Camila shrieked, “What are we going to do?” They looked at each other and said in unison, “RUN!” They were gone before Tad had even fully registered the nature of the disaster.

“Wait,” he called after them. He started climbing out of the tub. “What about….” The question was never finished. As soon as his bare foot touched the floor, it slid sideways on the wet, slippery surface. As he performed a graceful but unintentional acrobatic maneuver in the air, he caught a brief glimpse of the caretaker’s children framed in the doorway. He wondered that they were allowed in the house, considering the Cane family’s attitude towards them.

All wondering ceased when he landed on his back in a very painful impact that drove the air from his lungs. This pain was outdone in the very next moment when the back of his head struck the floor with a solid THUNK. White light flashed across his eyes, brighter than the blinding white of the bathroom… immediately followed by the light’s opposite, a black so dark it absorbed everything, including consciousness.

An old woman’s voice. Aunt Martha’s. You like me to play with your little nippies, don’t you? I call them your love buttons. Teresa’s voice. Leave him alone. Teresa had always been an anchor for him. Something solid to hold onto. But she had climbed on top of him that day under the tree. She had taken advantage of him as others had done. He tried to tune it out. Was she looking at him through his bedroom window? At night? While he was doing it? He’ll tune that out, too. He needed Teresa to remain solid.

You’ve had him long enough. Let me have my turn. Not Aunt Martha. But someone big like her. With red hair. He’d never seen anyone with red hair before. Teresa’s voice again. Leave him alone. His mom and dad, disbelieving. Spanking him for his lies. How could he lie about what happened when he didn’t even understand what happened? Until then, his parents had been solid… his rock. But on that day, the rock had crumbled.

Are you going to call the police? That voice sounded more immediate than the others. Not a memory. Tad opened his eyes… and shut them again as the light burned through to his brain. He had still managed to glimpse two blurry figures standing over him. Not the sisters. These were too tall.

A monstrous agony lived in the place his head used to occupy. He felt sick, like he was going to throw up at any moment. He just knew the act of vomiting would magnify the pain in his head till it killed him. He would die naked and barfing. What a fitting end to his ignominious existence.

He carefully opened his eyes again. Two adults… a man and a woman. Oh, God. They must be Mr. and Mrs. Cane. He was still flat on his back, and they towered over him. The woman didn’t look happy to find a naked boy lying on the floor of their flooded bathroom. Her husband looked more speculative. Remembering his nakedness, Tad cupped his hands over his genitals. How long had they been staring down at him while he was unconscious? A wave of humiliation warred with the pain for control of his head. It seemed Fate wasn’t going to be satisfied till every resident of Hammond, Texas had seen him exposed.

“I asked you a question,” the woman said to her husband. “Are you going to call the police? Or do I have to do it? Like I have to do everything around here.”

Mr. Cane rolled his eyes. “How are we going to explain a naked boy in our bathroom?”

Mrs. Cane made an exasperated noise. “You heard Lana. She and Camila found him here when they got back from walking. He must’ve broken in.”

“To take a bath?” Mr. Cane asked. “With fifteen bottles of bath oil? Sounds unlikely. There have been enough rumors about this family for generations. I really don’t want to add strange, naked boys in the bathroom to the list.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” The tone of her voice said there was a significance to that statement Tad didn’t understand. “So what do YOU propose we do. Just dress him and send him on his way? Let him get away with breaking into our home and wasting all my expensive bath oils? Some of those came all the way from England.”

Tad saw that behind the adults, the three children were still standing in the doorway, as if they hadn’t even moved to allow the Canes to enter.

He tried speaking, his voice coming out as a ragged croak, “I didn’t break in. Lana and Camila brought me here. Ask them.”

Mrs. Cane haughtily informed him, “That’s a lie. And the girls are in their rooms and won’t come out until YOU have left the premises… preferably in handcuffs. They’re terrified. They’re not used to finding filthy hooligans in the house.”

Tad didn’t know what a filthy hooligan was, but he was fairly sure he wasn’t one. “They’re the ones who are lying,” he cried. “They were in here with me till I slipped and fell.” He pushed himself into a sitting position, then paused as another wave of pain and nausea washed over him. He’d had to remove his hands from his privates to maneuver himself up, giving the couple another look at him.

Mr. Cane mused, seemingly to himself, “If he was filthy before, he certainly isn’t now. He looks like a very clean little hooligan. I’ll bet he smells pretty, too.”

His wife closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment before responding, “You really are quite disgusting. Did you know that?”

Mr. Cane seemed unperturbed by her insult. “I should. You inform me of it enough.” He paused before continuing. “Tell me, was the naked boy I found you with in our bedroom last week a filthy hooligan, too? And it didn’t look like he had to ‘break in’. You seemed to have voluntarily opened wide for him.”

Tad was beginning to understand how Lana and Camila had acquired their perverse personalities.

“You are so crude,” Mrs. Cane snapped. “I don’t know why I married you.”

“I think it was the money, dearest.”

Tad tried again to convince them he was telling the truth. “Ask THEM… the caretaker’s kids. They saw it all.”

Mrs. Cane looked confused. Turning to her husband, she asked, “The WHO?’”

Mr. Cane informed Tad, “Young man, there hasn’t been a formal caretaker on this property for over twenty years.” One corner of his mouth turned up in an unsettling smile. “Not since the old caretaker’s shack burned down with the whole family inside.”

Mrs. Cane told her husband, “You mean, not since your father intentionally…”

Her husband interrupted testily, “That was just another of those rumors. They couldn’t prove anything.”

Tad tried to stand up, but didn’t have the strength. He fell back to the floor, making a small splash. Sitting again, he tried to hold himself up with one hand while covering his privates with the other, but was too weak. With a sob, he returned the second hand to the floor, leaving himself fully revealed. Both of the adults were now looking down at him in a very disturbing way. They held a whispered conference.

Mrs. Cane turned to address him. “You have two choices, child. We can call the police and have you arrested for breaking in and trying to molest our dear, innocent daughters… and believe me, the girls will go along with whatever story we tell.”

Tad’s mouth dropped open, but no words emerged. He was stunned speechless.

“Or,” she continued, “You can entertain my husband and I… separately, of course… then we send you on your way. I may even throw in five dollars or so if you really please me. You can buy yourself a hamburger. You look like you could use one.” She smiled in a manner she may have meant to be reassuring. “Who knows? You might even enjoy it. Some of them do. And don’t worry if you’re inexperienced. I like them that way.” Addressing her husband, she added, “Which is why I get him first. I can’t stomach your very sloppy seconds.”

Mr. Cane told her, “And I don’t want him after he’s dipped into that petri dish between your legs. I like my boys disease-free.”

Tad felt like a bone being fought over by two dogs… two very nasty, very dangerous dogs. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to be arrested. No one would ever believe him. The Canes were a prominent family in town. He’d go to reform school. His mom and dad would disown him.

But he also knew he could never allow himself to be used by these depraved perverts. Their daughters had been bad enough. And he wasn’t as inexperienced with predatory adults as Mrs. Cane assumed. Aunt Martha… and her friend… had preceded them by years.

Tears began to run down Tad’s face. He was trapped with seemingly no way out.

Then the oldest of the caretaker’s children stepped forward. Somehow she moved effortlessly between the quarreling couple, even though they were standing so close together they were almost touching.

She stood before Tad and told him, “El fuego was our enemy. But now it is our friend. Run.”

Tad found himself on his feet. The intensity in the girl’s eyes had somehow transferred the strength he needed.

“Rápidamente,” she said urgently.

Tad ran. He didn’t move between the startled Canes as smoothly as the girl had. He was a flying wedge that sent them sprawling. The other two children stood on either side of the bathroom door as he passed. Their eyes had taken on the same intensity as their sister’s… glowing like embers.

Tad bounded down the hallway, barely registering the two wide-eyed faces that peeked out at him from bedroom doors. He leapt down the long spiral staircase, taking four to five steps at a time. Already he could hear the roar and the screams behind him.

Through the ornate, elegant front door and around to the back of the house. His heart was hammering in his chest. His head felt ready to split down the middle.

His clothes lay where they had left them in the grass. But the little house was no longer where it had been on the other side of the white picket fence. There was only the wide open pastures beyond. He didn’t stop to question. He didn’t stop to dress himself. He only grabbed his clothes and continued running.

By the time he had to slow down to navigate the barbed wire fence, the house behind him was an inferno. He could feel the heat against his bare back.

He paid no heed to the cattle this time as he raced by them. Cows were scary, but there were worse things in the world. He didn’t stop till he reached the tree line. There he collapsed and lay gasping.

He didn’t know how long it took to recover. He may even have slipped back into unconsciousness. He opened his eyes when he heard the far off wail of sirens. The Cane property was on the outskirts of town. It had taken a while before anyone even knew the calamity had occurred.

Tad slowly pulled on his dirty clothing. The mud had dried into an encrusted layer of itchy grime. He supposed a fully clothed dip in the pond was in order on the way back. Hopefully it would wash away the worst of the soil and eliminate the cloying floral scent that clung to his skin.

Still, he was going to be in trouble when he got home. He’d have to think up a suitable story to explain his condition… something to mitigate the inevitable punishment. The story would have to include why he had a huge rip down the back of his t-shirt. Telling the truth never even occurred to him. Even if the actual events hadn’t been so implausible, he had learned many years before that his parents didn’t appreciate being confronted with unpleasant truth.

He thought of stopping at Teresa’s house first. To tell HER the story. Or maybe just to sit for a while with a friend. He regretfully decided against it. Teresa had changed. She was no longer the person he had known most of his life. Try as he might to continue ignoring the evidence… the unpleasant truth… he had to admit Teresa was no longer solid. And might no longer be his friend.