Bad Art Night

By Ben Holiday

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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“Mom, do I have to go?” 12-year-old Ames complains.

Ames is about average height for his age and frightfully skinny. He eats like there’s no tomorrow but puts on no weight. Of course, he’s very active usually in high gear no matter what so he tends to quickly work off whatever calories, and then some, that he ingests.

“Ames, honey, we go through this each time. You complain and complain about going and then you like it. ” Ames’s mother replies looking at the time.

“No I don’t.” Ames counters knowing full well he is wrong. He also knows this kind of back talk can get him into trouble. His mother gives him a look that tells him not to be difficult.

“Remember, honey,” she says, “your friend, Neerav, will be there.”

“Yeah, and I’ll bet he doesn’t want to go either.” Ames mumbles to himself. He sneaks a quick glance at his Mom in hopes she didn’t hear him.

“What was that?” the boy’s mother asks giving him a slightly disapproving eye. She loves her son dearly, but will not tolerate sass.

“Nothing, Mom.” the boy replies quietly, resigned to his fate. He does perk up bit, though, knowing Neerav will be there.

He gets into the back of the minivan with his younger sister, Mavis, who is eight and very excited. She loves the idea of getting to paint and color and draw and whatnot. Ames’ older sister, Nicoline, who is 15, is in the front passenger seat. She has been enjoying the art nights although she never has displayed her pleasure keeping a calm composure. Tonight, however, it takes all her will power not to jump up and down with excitement rivaling Mavis’ joyful antics. The older girl trembles slightly while smirking. She knows something from their mother that neither Ames nor Mavis knows. Neerav and his younger sister, 9-year-old Riya, are also ignorant of the information; otherwise, Riya probably would’ve accidently spilled the beans and then wild horses couldn’t have dragged Ames and Neerav to tonight’s event. Nicoline knows what’s going on as her mother will need her help. What really amuses Nicoline is knowing her mother is one of the main instigators for tonight’s extra entertainment.

The minivan pulls into the parking lot and Ames’s mother and sisters exit the vehicle much more jovially than does Ames who is quite slow in his disembarkment. The ever eager Mavis grabs hold of Ames’s hand and tries to whisk him toward the community center.

“Come on, big bro!” she shouts with glee pulling and tugging on the sluggishly moving boy. “We get to paint tonight!!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ames replies in frustration having no desire to be here. But he doesn’t want to dampen the enthusiasm of his sister—if that’s possible—so he moves a little more quickly especially at the insistence of this mother.

Just as they get to the door, Ames hears someone call his name. It’s his best friend in the whole-wide world, Neerav. Seeing his buddy running towards him brings him some much needed cheer. Taking off toward Neerav, the two boys purposely collide with each other laughing as they pick themselves off the ground. If it wasn’t for the fact that their mothers had seen them do this on numerous prior occasions, they would’ve thought the two boys had killed each other with the force of their impact. Yet, they did it every time, snickering at the deed.
Neerav is just a tad taller than Ames and a bit more solidly built. While Ames has a very light creamy beige skin color, Neerav’s is a much darker caramel tan. Ames hair comes in a light brown, layered faux hawk, style and Neerav’s dark brown hair is in a very short spikey style. Neerav’s eyes are a deep, rich green, while his friend has light gray irises. Both boys are wearing cargo shorts and sandals and each sports a t-shirt with his favorite superhero on the front. The two boys commiserate with each other being forced to come to this function. The boys’ mothers exchange perceptive grins; first, that they know the boys really do like these art nights, and two, what additional fun tonight will be.

With various greetings taken care of, all head inside the community center to go to the room that is hosting “Bad Art Night”. For the past several weeks, several community organizations have banded together to interest people in the arts. While several programs are available for those with talent, “Bad Art Night”—as the information states—tells participants that no skill or talent is required and to just come have fun.
The first night had been drawing. And what frightful looking eyesores had been created! Ames had nearly fallen out of his chair laughing at Neerav’s supposed drawing of a superhero. And, of course, Ames’ so-called depiction of a dinosaur brought Neerav to tears from laughing so hard. Nearly everyone had to explain to each other what their drawings supposedly were. Even more fun, especially for the kids, their results are displayed in one of the two main halls until the next week.
The second week had people writing short stories and poetry. Grammar never suffered so much. People howled with laughter while simultaneously cringing at the murder of the English language as people read their narratives.

The third week had been clay night. You can only imagine the monumental disasters. Even things as simple as ashtrays were nearly unrecognizable. Neerav’s turtle got rave reviews until he told everyone it was supposed to be a flying saucer. Again, everyone, including Ames, had had fun.

Tonight, they get to paint. The room has several round tables that can each accommodate eight people comfortably. Ames’ and Neerav’s mothers, along with Mavis and Riya sit at one table with a lady and her two teenage daughters. Nicoline joins two friends and their mothers. Ames and Neerav sit at a table with three girls who are in their class at school. The other tables are soon filled up. The painting begins with boisterous laughter and lively conversation echoing through the room.

Ames and Neerav are already in their usual hysterics at their own terrible paintings as well as those of the girls at their table. Fortunately, everyone knows they all lack talent and all kidding is taken in stride. And the boys get as good as the give. Ames glances at his mother who, though she doesn’t say out loud “See I told you you’d have fun…like always”, she gives a look that adequately conveys the message. Ames grins sheepishly at his Mom and goes back to what he hopes will be an airplane. Neerav says it looks a drowning hotdog.

“Okay, everyone, may I have your attention? May I have your attention, please?”

Everyone looks toward the front of the room where one of the ladies responsible for these art nights is standing. The lady, Mrs. Barnes, had been the one on the previous three nights to direct people to the appropriate main hall to display their art and take home their previous week’s work.

The kids wonder what the announcement will be. Looking at the clock they know “Bad Art Night” can’t be over yet so she can’t be getting them ready to take their creations to the designated main hall. The moms, plus the older girls in-the-know, grin in avid anticipation.

“We haven’t had any models for any of our work so far and tonight we have four volunteers.”

Again, most of the kids looked on in confusion murmuring among themselves.

“Quiet, please.” Mrs. Barnes insists. “Now, like I said, we have four volunteers who will model for us so that we can try to paint real-life people.”

More murmuring occurs as the kids wonder who the models are. They turn their attention back to Mrs. Barnes eager to see who the models will be.

“Okay, may I have Hunter, Aaron, Ames, and Neerav up front, please? These four boys are our ‘volunteers’.”

Four boys look around the room. They notice they are the only males in the room. In fact, if they had paid any attention at all during the last three art nights, they would’ve known they had been the only males at any of these functions.

Four moms prod their somewhat perplexed boys up front. Hunter is 14-years-old and fairly short, just a smidgen taller than Neerav. He’s a good-natured, shy boy, with long blond hair and baby-blue eyes. His skin is a light beach-sand color. Though on the thin side with little muscle tone, he is pleasing to the eye if you accept the thoughts of his female classmates. Aaron is a tall 15-year-old boy with a solid athletic build. He has amber colored hair and green eyes. His skin is nicely tanned. Nicoline is in the same grade as Aaron who is one of the reasons she’s willing to come to these art nights. And tonight, she’s exhilarated to be here.

Mrs. Barnes tells the boys to each get one of the small round stands—each about a foot high and three feet in diameter—leaning against the far wall. As the boys slowly and still in confusion go about their task, the lady tells everyone else that part of the reason these four have been chosen is because they are the only boys to have come to these events. She goes on by saying,

“Ladies and girls, put away your canvasses and look at the number on the piece of paper taped under your chair.”

Every female reaches under her chair to find a piece of paper stuck under there. While they retrieve these and open them, Mrs. Barnes directs the boys to turn their stands so that the number painted on them faces front. Then she tells them to get up on their respective stands. Though not terribly thrilled to be involuntary ‘volunteers’ to be painted, the boys do as they are told.

“Come forward and go to the stand with the number on it that matches the one on your paper.” Mrs. Barnes says addressing the ladies and girls.

The females do so. Nicoline’s mother had made sure, at her older daughter’s unrelenting request, that Nicoline and her friends had numbers matching the stand Aaron will be on. Mrs. Barnes had done her part to be sure Aaron had taken the correct stand. As the girls mingle near their respective model, Mrs. Barnes, with the help of some of the ladies, brings over small tables, one for each stand and model, with the paints and brushes on them. The girls who don’t know yet what’s going on wonder why no canvases or easels are being brought over. One of the girls asks about this.

“Oh, you won’t need them, dear.” Mrs. Barnes says with a sweet smile that hides a devious scheme.

Now, Mrs. Barnes drops the bombshell.

“Okay, girls, I told you you’d be painting the models. So, strip your boy naked and then start painting him.”

The silence is deafening. Even the ladies and older girls who knew this would be happening have to take a moment to let it sink in that it is happening. The boys are sure they haven’t heard correctly. Many of the girls are in silent agreement with the boys that Mrs. Barnes can’t have said what she did. But then the moms and other older ladies start stripping the boys. This is when the many older daughters are needed as the boys suddenly break out of their stupor and become quite animated in their struggle to keep their clothes on profusely protesting their denuding.

Through laughs, threats, brute force and sheer determination to see the boys naked and become canvases for their art, the ladies and girls pull off shoes, socks, sandals, t-shirts, shorts and underwear tossing them into bags provided for storing the clothes. The boys really stand no chance. Even poor Aaron cannot fend off his fervent, amorous attackers. Though a very strong lad, he could not overcome the sheer number of his assailants nor did he have a clue how to fight girls, especially those wanting to see and paint his naked body.

Once all four boys are stripped stark naked Mrs. Barnes calls for everyone’s attention, a very difficult task at best. The boys are cowering on their stands, hunched over and with their hands protecting what little dignity they have left. They are not trying to escape—though they desperately want to—because the doors have been locked, they are surrounded by too many salivating girls to affect a successful escape, and their mothers have been telling them throughout the strippings that they will stay and be painted.

The girls are thanking their lucky stars they came tonight and are mentally recording every detail of these stripped boys as is possible. As the boys are currently protecting their most private of privates—though, some of the girls did get some glimpses of dangling bits during the strippings—the girls are admiring all other parts, especially the luscious bare butts. Fortunately for the boys so far, none of the girls has fondled them yet except by accident—if they can be called accidents—while ripping off the boys’ clothes.

Though enraptured with the presence of these now completely naked cute boys, one the girls does manage to break her eyes away from ogling them to ask about the canvases. Mrs. Barnes smiles her devious little smile again.

“Like I said, you won’t need them. You’ll be painting the boys themselves.”

This added news heightens the dismaying shock the boys are experiencing while further delighting the very ecstasy girls. It’s embarrassing and humiliating enough to have been stripped by the girls and assume you’re going to pose naked for them as they paint on a canvas. But this information told the horrified boys that they themselves will be the canvases.

“Now boys, let’s get you posed.”

Four boys look at their mothers for help, but none will come. The women have no particular ill-will toward their sons nor have the boys behaved badly lately such that this is a punishment. The ladies simply decided—after long conversations with their husbands to make sure the boys’ fathers were on board—to have a little playful fun at the expense of their sons while bringing some thrill to their daughters and for the girls who don’t have brothers.

The four boys are frozen with embarrassment and alarm which makes them easy to pose and force to stay in position. They all are made to clasp their hands behind their heads. Then the paintbrushes come out. The giggling girls begin brandishing their brushes and making each boy a rainbow of color. The most favorite parts, of course, are their dicks, balls, and butts, yet some of the girls are able to splash color elsewhere on the boys’ naked bodies. What really moves the girls to greatness in their artwork is the same thing that makes the boys’ faces glow even redder—if you can tell through the paint on their cheeks. Their penises—against the boys’ unspoken panicky commands to stay put—respond to all this female attention and rise to the occasion inviting much more room for painting.

Ames’ and Neerav’s dicks and balls are about average size for boys their age with Neerav’s penis being just a little longer. Hunter’s dick is somewhat small, but, with it being the only relief he’ll have all night, he notices his penis is longer than Neerav’s and just a little bit thicker. Unfortunately, he’s just as devoid of pubic hair as are the two younger boys. Aaron has an astonishingly large dick, quite big for a boy his age. And his balls might almost make a person think of tennis. He does have a nice patch of pubic hair that the girls eagerly run their fingers through when they aren’t painting him.

Ames and Neerav are stunned at being painted like this especially by girls from their own class. One girl is quite adept at using her brush to slowly caress the underside of Ames’ penis keeping it rock hard. Ames is beside himself in a confused mixture of horrified embarrassment and blissful pleasure. The other boys are faring no better as other girls are using their brushes to mercilessly tease their dicks and balls.

“Now for the exhibition.”

The girls stand back from their creations tittering on about getting to paint the lip-smacking boys’ butts and private parts. Each of the boy’s legs, arms, torsos, and faces are a multi-color sensation with some actual discernable shapes and objects painted on them.

By the time Mrs. Barnes calls the painting to a halt, Ames’ butt cheeks are both a lovely shade of lavender with little orange and green polka-dots, his balls are both a daffodil yellow, and his still erect penis is two-tone, with the shaft being midnight black and the head an exquisite chartreuse. Adorning Neerav’s butt cheeks are alternating black and red snake-like creatures. His balls are both neon green. His penis has a base color of emerald green with little flowers decorating it. Hunter’s butt ended up with concentric red and white circles in the shape of a bullseye. His balls have swirls of pink, red, and white. His semi-erect dick actual depicts a bit of talent as you can tell it’s a missile with flames painted around his groin area to simulate it blasting off. Aaron’s muscular buns have multiple pink hearts with arrows through them strewn all over. And several of the girls painted their names on the hearts. Some have also painted lip-kiss-marks on his butt…well, they might be painted on; some of the girls are wearing red lipstick that appears to be a bit smudged now. Aaron’s left testicle is painted as a soccer ball and his right one as a basketball. His still massive rock hard dick is a rainbow of color making it look like a huge life-savers package.

The boys didn’t think they could become any more fretful or embarrassed about tonight’s art event, but their anxiety definitely increases at this next comment by Mrs. Barnes.

“Let’s take your art to the hall for display.”

Many excited girls grab their horrified and protesting handicrafts and drag them out of the room, down the hall, and into the big auditorium. There they all find many more people here for the exhibit. Four naked brightly polychrome boys—whose faces’ beet-redness is making a gallant effort to shine through the paint—stand aghast as many more people get to ogle and fondle their bare bodies. If any of the four displayed dicks had subsided at all, they are back up to full attention receiving complete and in-depth hands-on scrutiny—as are the rest of their colorful bodies—by the art aficionados who know it’s their sworn duty to thoroughly investigate technique and workmanship of such creations.

As the end of the show draws near, four naked and embarrassed miserable boys are begging for clothes to cover up with. The requests are denied as the mothers, having planned this beforehand, tell the boys it’s such a beautiful night and that the boys are such stunning pieces of creativity, they will walk home so that others can enjoy and come to appreciate the arts. There may be no words to describe the true alarm the boys feel at this news. Nor may there be adequate descriptions of the thrill many girls and ladies not at the show experienced upon seeing the naked works of art streaking to their respective homes.

Just before they leave on their naked journeys home, the boys receive one more piece of unwelcome news.

“And just think, boys,” Mrs. Barnes says with a twinkle in her eye, delighting in the alarm that takes up residence on the boys’ faces, “next week we’re doing nature photography. And what is more natural than naked boys on display in lots of public places?”

The End.

(End of File)