Tommy's Attitude Adjustment Chapter 57
by Chadlad

copyright 2007 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
chadlad3@yahoo.com

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Chapter 57: At Miriam Webster School, Only Boys are Spanked

"Whodunit?" Cynthia breathed, looking puzzled.

"Who stole the money, who violated our trust, who is going to get punished," Mrs. Rose intoned. "The answer is the same to all three." She began pacing, stroking her chin in an unconscious Hercule Poirot imitation. "Anyway, as I was saying, I found the missing PTA money in Mr. Henson's desk. It seemed I had tracked our culprit down easily, and I vowed that Mr. Henson would suffer a most horrific punishment for breaking our trust."

"Just as I suggested," Emily said smugly.

"Very much like that," Mrs. Rose agreed. Chad lost the remainder of his bladder control, soaking his underpants. The wet spot on the lower front of his trousers spread to the size of the palm of his hand, and an embarrassing triangle of moisture that settled in his underpants, bathing his small scrotum in body heat. The girl who sat next to Emily's chair burst into derisive laughter, pointing at his crotch. Other children turned to look. "Hey, Henson's wet himself again!" Big Sam chortled. Giggles erupted all over the room. Surprisingly, to Chad, Mrs. Rose glanced at his pants, registered the wet spot, and then shrugged and looked back at the class.

"We'll have to clean Mr. Henson up later," Mrs. Rose said. "I'm sure his bladder control problems aren't news to anyone. Now settle down – it isn't the first time he's wet himself in class. Anyway, as I was saying, I was planning to give Mr. Henson a most unpleasant series of punishments very much like Miss Gitt helpfully suggested this morning when I heard a beep." She looked at the class significantly.

"A beep, Mrs. Rose?" Emily said, as Mrs. Rose's gaze settled on her and she appeared to be seeking some response from Emily.

"Yes, Miss Gitt. A beep. An electronic beep, almost too faint to hear. I started searching for the source. In less than a minute, I heard it again. It was coming from this side of the classroom." She pointed in Cynthia's direction. "I walked that way, and few seconds later I heard it a third time. I finally located the source of the sound." She strode to the bookcase at the side of the room, picking up the camera Cynthia had left there on Friday morning. "I picked it up and discovered it was on, but giving its 'low battery' warning. When I looked through the viewfinder, I discovered that it was in time-lapse mode, the lens was on extreme wide angle, and it had been running all day." She scanned the class, seeing puzzled expressions. "This is a special video camera we bought for science classes," she explained. "It can be set to shoot a single frame every so many seconds, so that you can see things that happen slowly speeded up, such as flowers opening and similar natural phenomena. It had been running all day, pointed at the room. Taking in almost the entire room, except for the corner near my desk and the corner near the door. Cynthia had been trying to make it go into that mode for filming the flowers in her back yard, I thought it wasn't working and put it down, but apparently it was. So it had snapped pictures all day of the school room, one every few seconds. I downloaded the jpeg files from it and decided to look at them myself." Mrs. Rose scanned the room again. The Henson boy had quite thoroughly peed his pants, and still looked like he was about to dirty himself as well. Didn't the pathetic little twit have any control at all? Moving to the girl standing beside him, she noted that the smile had left Emily's face and she was looking a bit apprehensive. Scanning the room, Mrs. Rose noted her compatriots also had lost their smiles. Cynthia looked to be deep in thought.

"But that means you have pictures of the entire class day," Cynthia finally said aloud. "You'd have pictures of everything that happened in class." She brightened. "Hey," she exclaimed. "Chad's desk is right in front of the camera. He said he didn't take the money and put it in his desk. And if he's telling the truth, and the camera was snapping pictures, maybe…"

"Yes, maybe," Mrs. Rose said, raising a warning finger to stop Cynthia's gush of words. "Let me stop you there – I'm running this show. And in fact, I have another show I want you to see." She sat the camera down, and pulled the LCD projector cart over from where it had been sitting by the blackboard. The cart had a computer that was attached to it, and she plugged the power strip in, aiming the projector at the screen in the front of the room and turning both units on. As the computer booted up, she looked at the class. "I found some most interesting shots when I looked at the files. I've put the most important ones in a little presentation which I showed the school board in a special Sunday board meeting, and now I'm going to show that same presentation to you." She saw the computer had started and fired up PowerPoint. "Mr. Henson and Miss Gitt, you can turn around so you can watch, too. I think you'll both be most interested in the presentation."

The first slide she brought up had a picture of the PTA money bag and was framed with a headline reading "Whodunit?" in red, dripping letters from some Halloween font. She moved to the next slide. "Here it caught a shot of me just as I was opening Mr. Henson's desk," she said. "Proof that this was where the PTA money was found." Under the picture, she'd added the caption "Where money found." A time stamp in the corner listed the time as 3:44 PM. Mrs. Rose was indeed lifting the top of Chad's desk and looking into it, almost centered in the wide-angle frame of the shot, her big nose caught in profile and looking like a giant potato plastered to her face. Her other hand was just lifting the money bag from between the junk in his desk. Chad's heart began beating erratically – he could almost feel Emily beating his bare butt already in front of a jeering classroom. He knew just how it would look – his legs spraddled and tied to the horse, his butt partially spread so that his hole was just visible, his scrotum squashed against the ball-smashing hump of the horse. He couldn't control his trembling. Surprisingly, though, Emily had stopped smirking at him – she was staring at the screen and looked almost worried.

"Now I think you'll find this next series of pictures interesting," Mrs. Rose said to the class. "I'll play them through as a set." She advanced the slide. The next slide had the title, "Boys being returned from lunch time punishment." The next picture showed Randy Martinez, wearing only his shirt, was being led up the aisle to the front of the classroom by Emily, her fingers digging into his scrotal patch painfully, his balls visible as she pulled them out from his body by her grip from the pad of fat where they normally hid. Lindsay was right behind her, leading S. F. by his long, hard erection and mercifully allowing his balls to sag in their manly fashion underneath, looking totally out of place on his small, slight, pale frame. All the boys in class with the exception of Joey Turpin were looking at the photo with stark envy, especially at the fact that little S. F.'s penis was so long that the tip stuck out the front side of Lindsay's grip. Watching, S. F. shifted positions uncomfortably – he thought back to how he'd believed his butt had hurt as much when this picture had been taken as a butt could hurt, and that he couldn't possibly be more humiliated than he'd been sitting naked in front of the lunch crowd. But after his date with Mrs. Ardmore and his mother's prayer group, he'd learned about real butt pain and humiliation, and about genital pain as well. He could feel his butt aching even after two days of nursing by his father and in spite of the analgesic cream his father had lovingly rubbed all over his bottom that morning. To his chagrin, his father had also rubbed the cream on his penis, to S. F.'s relief not even commenting on S. F.'s involuntary hard on as the results of his efforts, just acting like it was normal for a boy to get that way. He'd actually found his father's touch soothing and welcome after he got over the embarrassment of his father touching him there. His penis was still sore to the touch, yet desire was building within him by the hour, and the need to stroke himself for the blessed relief it gave was growing, too. He feared the next time his father medicated his injuries that he'd lose control and squirt his stuff right into the air. He'd almost done so that morning, and he had been trying to work up the courage to say something about it to his father when his father had stopped rubbing him and pronounced him ready for school, to his mixed relief and disappointment. He wondered how long it would be before he could comfortably touch himself and then felt an immediate surge of guilt before remembering that he wasn't supposed to feel guilty – that his dad had told him over and over that playing with his penis was normal and something he should enjoy. His circle of new friends had even confirmed that assessment and with varying degrees of embarrassment admitted they all did it, even Chad, who he'd seen do it with his own eyes in front of the class despite his ridiculously small wiener.

Poor Chad. It looked like he'd taken the PTA money and was going to get a ferocious whipping, the worst anyone had gotten in class to date! And then to have to stand up naked in the lunchroom for days, letting anyone touch his private parts anywhere! It would be worse than the punishment he'd gotten from the prayer group, that was certain. He felt a pang of upset – he liked Chad. He'd always liked Chad kind of shyly, from a distance, but now Chad and his friends had embraced him, accepted him as one of them – Chad and Jimmy and Alan (who, rumor had it, like boys rather than girls, maybe even did sex stuff with them. His mother had taught him that doing sex stuff with other boys was a major sin a sign of the Devil, but Alan seemed an okay guy, even a normal guy, and he'd never made any moves on S. F.). Yes, he liked Chad and felt sorry for him, standing up there so scared that he'd peed his pants, having to wait for the ultimate punishment. Yet something wasn't quite right about the direction this was taking. Mrs. Rose had appeared to already have identified the culprit and had photos of the money bag being found in Chad's desk. So why the pictures of his and Randy's shame? And why was the slide show still going on?

Still, he had to admit that he did look good compared to the other boys. His dad had always admonished him in the past not to be full of pride, declaring that too much pride was a sin, yet that same dad had himself had made some remark last night that at least S. F. hadn't had anything to be ashamed of when he'd been undressed in front of class, and that he had a attributes that any boy would envy. In fact, he thought he'd heard his father add, as he got up to leave after rubbing anesthetic cream on S. F.'s tender parts, that his son was "hung like a horse." S. F. had never seen a horse's privates, but horses were big, and from his father's admiring gaze it was clear that large size was involved. Despite himself, he felt a surge of pride that he could certainly hold his own there with everyone he'd seen naked so far except Joey, and he was only marginally smaller than that older boy. And he had to admit that Chad's genitals were pathetic by comparison with their nasty trick of climbing into his body when he was frightened. (although to give Chad his due, he did grow when stimulated). And although Jimmy's penis was almost as wide as his, it had ugly twists in it and was still much shorter, and Alan's, although almost as long, was so much thinner it looked more like a rod than a penis. So he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at the picture of his being led into the room Friday. Although he was shamefully exposed in the photo everyone could see now twice normal size and in sharp detail, and the thought of that state still embarrassed him, at least he didn't have to be ashamed of his genitals the way Randy did. Randy, whose penis was probably Chad-sized, but hid in a layer of fat that made it barely protrude even when erect. Randy, whose balls didn't project at all unless dug out of the fat like Emily the Bitch was doing in the photo. He wondered what it would be like to have just a patch of wrinkled skin rather than balls that hung down like his always had, even when he was a little boy with a tiny little weenie. He remembered back when he was in kindergarten or first grade, bending over in the bath for his mother to wash his anus and wondering at the bag swaying gently between his legs as she scrubbed, wondering just what it was for and why it always hung down there in the way. He'd thought for some time that the bag was were the pee that came out of his weenie came from, but finally dismissed that idea upon determining that it never changed in size whether he was full of pee or empty, and that it had two hard lumps in it that complained if he squeezed them too hard but that didn't seem to be full of liquid.

"Now let's look at the next photo the camera snapped," Mrs. Rose said, startling S. F. out of his reverie.

In the next photo, the boys were on the far left of the picture, sturdy, thin, white butt, and sloppy fat, brown one both glowing redly below school shirts as they stood with hands behind their necks. Emily was standing just behind them, looking toward the classroom door. "As you can see," Mrs. Rose said. "Lindsay is out of camera range now – she appears to have left the classroom. Note Emily's position." Emily was between the boys and Mrs. Rose's desk, apparently heading for it. "Now the next picture." Mrs. Rose changed slides again. Emily had jumped in position so she was in the center of camera range again. She had Chad's desktop up, and a small parcel in her hand half way into the desk. She was smiling, or perhaps smirking. "Now this is an interesting picture," she said. "I was especially interested in what is in your hand, Miss Gitt." She pointed to the small bag.

"Or taking it out," Mrs. Rose said. "You can't really tell which."

Chad gaped at the picture, rage rising in him. He wanted to flatten Emily right there – knock her teeth down her throat and make her swallow them! He almost took a swing at her, but then he remembered the gauntlet, a day of punishment and a week of pain and humiliation, the result of his last violent, impulsive act, and forced himself to remain inert, merely gripping his hands into fists. Emily, whose mouth had been working, seized on Mrs. Rose's suggestion as her way out. "You're right, Mrs. Rose," Emily said sweetly. "I had decided to look in Chad's desk to see if he had any of the dirty magazines that young Samuel had brought to class – you know how boys share those disgusting things. I saw the PTA package in there and took it out to look at it, but then I decided to put it back where I'd found it in case you wanted to handle the problem privately." She gave Mrs. Rose her best ingratiating smile.

"A plausible explanation, and one that certainly fits this set of pictures as well as the other explanation," Mrs. Rose said approvingly.

"She's lying!" Chad shrieked. "She put it there! She wants to paddle me again, and she hid the money so she could!"

"MR. HENSON!" Mrs. Rose boomed. "I will not tolerate such outbursts in my classroom. I believe I told you to be silent until it was time for you to speak, and now is not the time. Emily, go to my bottom drawer and get the hairbrush!"

"Certainly," Emily said, smirking. She pranced to Mrs. Rose's drawer and came back with an evil-looking wooden hairbrush with a flat, oval head.

"Mr. Henson, lower your pants and underpants, please," Mrs. Rose said, glaring at him. "I will not have you disobeying me during my presentation. And I would have Miss Gitt lower your pants and underpants for you, but I don't believe she wants to touch your clothing in its current wet state."

Shaking, Chad fumbled at his pants button, unable to control his muscles well enough to grip it. "We're waiting, Mr. Henson," Mrs. Rose ordered.

"I can get the button for him," Emily snickered. "He hasn't peed that high – I'm sure he can't given the small size of his own button." Smirking even more widely, Emily flipped open Chad's pants button and yanked down his zipper. She looked over at Mrs. Rose.

"Lower your pants, Chad," Mrs. Rose ordered. "Underpants, too."

Shaking, Chad gripped the dry top of his pants and lowered them and his underpants together. Though he'd been stark naked in front of this group many times before, he still flushed with shame as he stood up again, unable to keep everyone from getting good look at his genitals once again. His penis had shrunk into his body so it looked like an elevator button, the glint of the gold ring peeking out under the pee slit. His balls were pulled tightly to his body, almost giving them the appearance of the unfortunate Randy Martinez' wrinkled patch, but with his balls protruding enough to be visible. His few pubic hairs, sprouted since the kids had last seen him naked, caused an immediate stir in class.

"Hey, he's got hair!" a girl in front exclaimed. Mrs. Rose ignored the outburst. She calmly handed the hairbrush paddle back to Emily.

"Miss Gitt, if you would please give Mr. Henson two swats for disobeying my order to keep silent, one on each side of his bottom. Make them hard. Mr. Henson, put your hands behind your head!"

Shaking like a leaf, Chad lifted his hands and tried to link them behind his head. He was shaking not so much because of the two swats he was about to get as because of his anger for the way Emily had trapped him, and the spanking, humiliation, and paddling he was going to get, probably from her, for a crime she clearly had committed. He was unable to get his hands to meet behind his head, he was shaking so powerfully with rage and humiliation and fear – Mrs. Rose finally had to step over and trap his left hand and guide it to his neck herself. She stepped back just in time, as Chad lost control and peed his last squirt on the ground. The arching liquid sprayed out and then down because of his penis position, creating an excited murmur from the classroom and gleeful giggling from Emily's friends in the front row. Mrs. Rose, sighing, retrieved some Kleenexes and wiped the floor and then swiped Chad's dripping penis. "Make that three," she added. "Such lack of control is extremely shameful and disrespectful. Apply the last one in the center of Mr. Henson's bottom."

Emily, positively euphoric with the prospect of paddling Chad now and then spanking and paddling him later as well as fondling him all through lunch time, looped a hand around his stomach to steady his shaking body, raised her right arm high, and brought the paddle down on Chad's left bun with a hard crack. There was a moment between when he heard the paddle land and when he felt it, and then Chad arched his back and stood up on his toes as searing pain engulfed his left bun. "Owwwwwwwwww!" he squealed, tears immediately coursing down his face. "Owww! Owww! Owwwwwwww!"

"That's one," Mrs. Rose said. "Wait for him to stop clenching before you give him the next one."

Chad shivered and shook as the pain in his butt gradually receded to just an unbearable burn, hesitating to relax his muscles for fear of the next blow. But his fear of putting it off was worse – he finally let himself sag against Emily's arm, trembling violently. The second blow lit up his right bun with a fire that seemed to trump the first – despite the fact Chad was ready for it this time, he still shrieked as loudly as he had with the first, embarrassingly clenching his butt and arching his back again, thrusting his button of a penis toward the audience as tears flowed more freely down his cheeks. It took him a longer time this time to convince his butt to relax and prepare itself for the final swat, but finally he sagged against Emily, sniffling, his whole body trembling as he awaited his final spank. When it finally came, he squealed even more loudly, as the paddle contacted skin on both sides of his butt that had already been spanked once before. Chad arched his back and threw back his head to squall, bouncing on his toes and making his short penis bobble as he did, his face a picture of misery. Emily had cruelly aimed hit blow so it would land directly over his ass hole, and Chad could swear he could feel even that buried structure burning. Mrs. Rose wasted no time, though. "Pull your pants up, Mr. Henson," she said. "I haven't finished my slide show yet. And kindly stop with the histrionics – I'm sure your fellow students would like to hear what I have to say, even if you don't appear interested."

Chad continued bawling, trying without success to quiet himself, as he crouched to retrieve his underpants and pants and pull them over his painfully sore bottom. His underpants felt cold against his crotch where he'd peed himself. He was still shaking and had a hard time dressing, but his mind cleared enough for him to wonder why he was being allowed to dress again. Probably so his clothes could be ceremoniously removed again for punishment, he finally decided. He finally managed to buckle his pants but continued crying.

"MR. HENSON!" Mrs. Rose snapped. "Do you want more from the paddle, or are you going to quiet down so we can go on?"

Chad, definitely not wanting more from the paddle, made a valiant effort to quiet his tears, managing to swallow down his cries in a few moments. Mrs. Rose spoke more softly. "That's better, Mr. Henson. Now let us proceed to the next slide. We've already had a plausible alternative explanation of the first anomaly I discovered, and given Mr. Henson's past behavior and Miss Gitt's impeccable record, in conjunction with the undeniable fact that Mr. Henson is a boy, albeit only marginally, we'd have to conclude that Mr. Henson is the culprit here. But now let's take a look at the next picture." She clicked to the next slide, and the class suddenly hushed. Even Chad, blinking back tears, stared at the picture.

The picture they were all looking at was full of children, standing in various groups around the classroom. The time date was 7:57 AM, demonstrating the photo had to have been one of the first shot by the camera. Chad, Jimmy, and Randy Martinez were in the foreground, dominating the picture, Jimmy's mouth open and the other two boys were looking at him intently. Randy's butt was to the camera, and Chad was struck once again by how huge Randy's bottom was in comparison to his own. He couldn't see anything particularly noteworthy in the picture, though, and the other children were looking puzzled, too.

"See it?" Mrs. Rose said to the class expectantly.

"See what? That Martinez has a giant butt?" one of Emily's friends asked. Mrs. Rose glared at her. "I didn't choose this picture so that you could examine Mr. Martinez' posterior. I'm talking about the background."

Chad examined the background with his classmates, still not seeing anything significant. Mrs. Rose clicked the keyboard, and a circle of red suddenly appeared to the right of the two boys, around a figure crouching slightly on the far side of the room. It was an indistinct figure, dark against the window blinds, leaning over a desk, the edge of the desk slightly raised, a hand just coming out of it. Despite the fact the face was in shadow, it looked watchful, somehow.

"I don't get it," Jimmy said.

"Use your eyes, Mr. Chen," Mrs. Rose said. "What do you see?"

"Someone putting their hand into a desk," Jimmy said immediately.

Jimmy studied the photo seriously. "Hey that's my desk!" S. F. suddenly exclaimed. "They're in my desk!" He stopped suddenly and reddened at the attention he'd drawn, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor and belatedly remembering Chad had just gotten three humiliating bare-bottomed slaps for speaking out. But Mrs. Rose seemed unperturbed.

"That's right," she said. "You can see by the position of the windows that the person is in Mr. Farlow's desk. But who is it?"

"I can't tell," Jimmy said. "It's too far away."

"I thought so, too, at first," Mrs. Rose said. "But I don't give up easily, and I can tell at a glance when a child is up to something, and that person was clearly up to something. I pondered as to what it could be, and while I was pondering, I noted something significant that appears to have escaped notice of you children." She clicked a key and the picture zoomed in, enlarging as it did until the figure filled the whole screen. "There," she said, pointing to the neck of the figure, where a glint of silver hung. "That necklace." She zoomed again, so that the silver glint filled the whole screen, broken up by serious pixilation now. "It's hard to see, but there's something distinctive about it. She pointed to a pixel of blue at the bottom. "I realized I'd seen it before, frequently, on one of you children. I finally realized what it was. It's a cross, a silver cross. A cross with a small, blue stone on the bottom." Kids began looking around the room at other kids' necks, and Chad started to as well, when he caught motion next to him. Emily had reached for her neck in surprise and was grasping a silver cross. A silver cross with a blue stone on the bottom. Cynthia turned her head and looked at Chad's expression, then saw what Chad was looking at and pointed excitedly. All eyes turned to Emily, who now had the cross in her fist, protecting it from view.

"It's her! Randy Martinez blurted out. "It's Emily!"

"What was she doing in my desk?" S. F. interjected.

"A good question," Mrs. Rose said. "Perhaps we should ask Emily. Emily, just what were you doing in Mr. Farlow's desk before class?"

"Uh," Emily said, her face coloring but wheels in her head turning rapidly. "Um, you know that magazine he had Friday? I caught just a glimpse of it as he slipped it into his desk Friday, and I was just going to slip a quick look at what he was hiding, but I barely opened the desk when he turned around and I had to shut it again, so I never really saw it," she temporized, putting on her best "teacher's pet" smile.

"I see," Mrs. Rose said. "So after you shut the desk, you went to your own desk?"

"Oh, yes ma'am," Emily said. "We had a big report due, remember? I wanted to be ready to hand it in."

"So you saw Mr. Farlow bring in a disgusting pornographic magazine, and you went to investigate, but you gave up when he turned around and you couldn't confirm your suspicions, so you went back to your desk and stayed there, is that right?"

"Absolutely," Emily said. "I never saw that disgusting magazine, of course. If I had, I'd have reported it."

"I'm sure you would have," Mrs. Rose said. "Just as I'm sure you would have reported the purse you also found, coincidentally, in Mr. Henson's desk on the same day. You've become quite the little Columbo, haven't you, Emily, in rooting out the transgressions of the boys in our class. You appear to have discovered both the culprit in the PTA theft and the perversion of Mr. Farlow in the same day."

S. F. was looking at his desk, his face burning at the discussion of his shame in front of the classroom on Friday and the draconian tortures that had followed when he'd gone home. He knew he hadn't put the magazine there, even if it had been his father's, but denying it had gotten him worse punishment on Friday, and he wasn't going to repeat the same mistake. The fact that everyone in this class, everyone, had witnessed his painful spanking on Friday made it hard to meet anyone's eyes. They'd seen him naked, for heaven's sake!

Mrs. Rose broke her gaze from Emily and zoomed back out on the picture again, so the whole photo could be seen. "I just want to point out one more thing," she said. "In the figure's other hand – your other hand, Miss Gitt, as you've acknowledged the figure is yourself. What is that you're carrying?"

"It's a folder," Cynthia blurted out. "A big red folder!"

"Oh, of course," Emily said. "It was the folder with my report in it," she added. "I was taking good care of it so I could hand the report in."

"I see," Mrs. Rose said. "That explains much."

Chad almost screamed with rage. It didn't explain anything at all that he could see, especially not why she'd be carrying it to S. F.'s desk. But he bit his tongue, the throbbing pain in his butt from the three, only three recent blows from his nemesis, and the humiliation of having peed his pants were still clear in his mind. How would he get through a day with many other blows forthcoming?

But the other children looked puzzled by her remarks, too, and Cynthia was on the verge of saying something. Mrs. Rose held up a hand as she opened her mouth. "Before any of you comment," she said, "perhaps we should look at the next slide." She clicked a key. The photo was replaced by another one. It was less than a minute later. In the foreground, Randy was now across the room near S. F. and Sarah Hull, on the extreme right of the frame. Chad and Jimmy were shown walking away on the left side, both carrying reports in their hands as they headed to the front with them. Emily was in the center and a row over, by Randy's desk, her hand in the act of withdrawing a blue folder from it, the red folder in her hand already open to receive it, her eyes looking almost straight at the camera watchfully.

Mrs. Rose glared at him. "There will be no more outbursts from boys in this class, and no more accusations," she said icily. "There isn't a boy in the class that doesn't deserve a daily paddling for his rudeness and his many transgressions. If you'd like yours now, I'd be glad to oblige you."

Randy ducked his head and settled back into his seat where he'd half jumped up in his excitement. The indignant reddening of his countenance remained, however. Mrs. Rose glared at him and then turned back to Emily. Mrs. Rose looked at Emily. "Well?" she said. "Any explanations for this one?"

"It – It's not how it looks," Emily said.
"Oh?" Mrs. Rose said, and her tone was icy now when she addressed Emily. "And just how does it look?"

"It looks like she's taking Randy's report," Cynthia said helpfully. Mrs. Rose turned her glare Cynthia's way, and she cringed. But Mrs. Rose didn't reprimand her.

"It does rather look that way, doesn't it?" she said calmly. She turned back to Emily. "So is that what's going on in this picture, or do you have another explanation?"

Another photo of the classroom just before the bell, taken maybe seconds later. Emily was by the bookcase on the far side of the classroom near the front, now, with no other children's bodies blocking the view of her. She was leaned forward, her hand extended to slip the folder behind the bookcase. Her eyes were cunning, apparently scanning the room watchfully as she disposed of the folder. The gleam in her eye and the smirk on her face were obvious. Mrs. Rose straightened up and looked grimly at Emily. Everyone else in the room looked at her as well.

"Really," Mrs. Rose said, making it a statement rather than a question. "I don't see any red books on the shelf now, and I didn't see any Friday afternoon when I checked. What I saw on Friday, slid behind the bookshelf out of sight, was this." She walked to her desk and extracted a bright red folder, opening it as she walked back to the students. The folder had pockets in it. On one side was a blue folder with the name "Randy Martinez" neatly written in boyish hand in the upper corner. On the other side, shocking in broad daylight in the classroom, was an old magazine, the cover showing a nude woman with huge breasts in a Santa Claus hat smiling under the title "Hustler." Mrs. Rose pulled the magazine out of the folder and turned it over, indicating a blemish on the back cover. Stalking over to open her drawer again, Mrs. Rose retrieved the Hustler found in S. F.'s desk and showed the children how the blemishes matched each other perfectly. "One of a pair," she said. "A pair that had been stuck together until recently. And the missing report. Put them together with the other shots and the entire picture becomes clear and irrefutable. Someone in this classroom hasn't been satisfied with the rate at which the boys in it have been getting into trouble due to their natural predilections. Someone has decided to hasten that process. And then there's the capper to the whole sorry sequence."

Mrs. Rose clicked the keyboard and a scene taken from above appeared. It took Chad and the others a moment to note that the view was from the top of the school building, taking in the area in front of the school entrance. Emily and the girl who set next to her in class, Juanita Sands, were shoulder to shoulder with their backs to the camera, looking into an opened red folder. Mrs. Rose waited a moment, then hit the key again. The picture zoomed, so the folder filled the screen. The left side was empty, in this picture, and the right side appeared more full – a magazine was there, also sporting a naked woman with huge breasts, but this time it was the magazine found in S. F.'s desk that was visible in the folder. "This photo was taken just before school on Friday," Mrs. Rose said. "I went through the security tapes once I'd seen the other pictures, and I found this, taken with the camera by the school entrance. That's clearly the magazine found in Mr. Farlow's desk. It seems unlikely, given our other photos, that Mr. Farlow had possession of it before it appeared in his desk, or that he put it in his desk himself. It's also quite clear that Mr. Martinez did in fact have possession of his report when he walked into the classroom, just as he said. Putting those two together with the picture of the PTA money being put in Mr. Henson's desk, the picture is crystal clear." She turned to Emily. "Chad Henson couldn't have taken the PTA money and put it in his desk for you to find when you opened it. The money was in my desk when we left the room – I put it there at that time. Chad did not return to the room until I had returned also, after lunch. Yet in between, there is a picture of you, Miss Gitt, reaching into his desk with the purse. Reaching in – in to place the purse there. To frame your fellow classmember and make him eligible for punishment, a punishment you yourself hoped to administer."

Mrs. Rose clicked the keys a final time. Emily's picture appeared, her school picture, looking proud and a bit smirky in her school uniform. Dripping red letters across her body read, "Guilty." Mrs. Rose let the image soak into the minds of the class members a moment, then dramatically reached over and shifted the projector to standby, letting the image fade.

Emily shut her mouth and looked panicked for a moment. Then she smiled at Mrs. Rose in what she hoped was a winning way. "That wasn't me," she said. "It must have been faked. You said yourself it was Cynthia's camera – she obviously faked it and left it there for you to find – everyone knows she's all ga-ga for Henson."

"Oh, it's you alright," Mrs. Rose said. "The lighting is excellent, and we can see you quite clearly in most of the shots. You can explain one or two of the shots away, but the whole package is quite damning, especially the last shot, which was from a camera that none of your classmates could access or probably even knew existed. It certainly convinced the school board on Sunday."

Emily looked around desperately. How had this happened? She'd been caught! She might lose her DA privileges! She might get detention! "No!" she said loudly. As everyone turned to look at her, she recovered her poise. "I mean, this must be something they all cooked up. They've all been jealous of me all along, and now they're trying to get me into trouble." She smiled, trying to catch Mrs. Rose's eye and see some note of sympathy.

Mrs. Rose wasn't looking at her. Damn that girl, she thought to herself. She would expect a stunt like this from some of the boys, but from a girl? Especially a girl she'd trusted, a girl she'd handed serious responsibilities to? This girl had set back her discipline plans for the class almost to where they'd started at the beginning of the semester. Well, it was time to put the plans she and the school board had made over the weekend in motion.

She locked eyes with Randy Martinez. "Mr. Martinez, you appear to have been the victim of malicious mischief on the part of your fellow student. That also appears to be the case for you, Mr. Farlow. Of course both of you have undoubtedly escaped punishment in the past that you truly deserved, so I wouldn't encourage your feeling sorry for yourselves. In fact, these recent punishments will probably be to your benefit in helping you keep on your toes."

She turned to Chad. "Mr. Henson, you've certainly earned your share of punishments in the past, all of them deserved, including the one you received moments ago for your insolent mouthiness. But the punishments Miss Gitt detailed a few moments ago as a suggestion and which I agreed to administer were suggested for the student who stole the PTA money and betrayed our trust. As you, Mr. Henson, are clearly not that person, you may sit down for the moment."

Awash with relief to the point he was weak-kneed, Chad stumbled toward his desk. Mrs. Rose's voice followed him, however. "You will, of course, be called up for diapering later as a consequence of your totally unwarranted action of wetting yourself, but for now you can sit in your wet pants and concentrate on the need for controlling your bladder more completely in the future." Chad's spirits sank, but only a little – what was the shame of being diapered in front of class compared to the punishment Emily had tried to pin on him and that he apparently wasn't going to receive. He felt his balls relax in his wet pants and his penis shift as is expanded slightly from its fear shriveled state.

Mrs. Rose turned to a flushed Emily Gitt. "For now, we need to commence the first stage of the punishments Miss Gitt has recommended for the real culprit in the PTA funds theft."

Emily's mouth dropped. "Mrs. Rose, you can't be serious," she said. "I only did what was for the best. All the boys in this class need to be punished, all of them! They need to be stripped so everyone can see how ludicrous their disgusting boy parts are, and then need to be spanked on their filthy behinds! And they're so full of crap they all need enemas, every one of them! They need their privates beaten for the filthy ideas they have about girls all the time!" she raged.

"All that may be the case," Mrs. Rose said. "I'm inclined to agree with you in principle that most boys would benefit from frequent beatings, including the ones you framed in your zeal Indeed, both of those boys appear much improved for the experience. But I'm mortified that the girl I trusted and elevated to a higher position over her fellow classmates had betrayed that trust, and that's why you'll be punished as you suggested today and in the days that follow for stealing the money."

A hum of incredulous conversation bloomed around the room. Mrs. Rose stared at Emily, who was moving her mouth but not making any sounds. Finally she squeaked, "But, Mrs. Rose – girls don't get physical punishments at Miriam Webster Schools! Only boys get spanked and paddled and all the rest of at! And they should! They all should!" she added vehemently.

"That's true," she said. "Girls don't get spanked or paddled here, and especially not bare and on the genitals as you suggested. So when I viewed the pictures and realized what they meant, I had a meeting with Mrs. Bose, the principal, to discuss the problem. Then we both went to the board on Sunday and we all discussed it. This morning we called your mother and talked to her, and we were able to come to an agreement and work out the problem to everyone's satisfaction. We all agreed we must maintain the policy that girls do not get physically punished at our school. Yet we also agreed that your misbehavior was the worst we'd ever seen in a girl, and even rivaled that of Mr. Henson at his worst, and that you needed a like punishment."

Emily looked relieved. It had been sounding, for a moment, like they were proposing some sort of barbaric boy punishment for her, but obviously the rules against that had not been changed. Her relief was short-lived, however. Mrs. Rose drilled her with a look. "Aren't you interested in how we resolved the issue, Miss Gitt?"

Emily looked confused. "I am," Jimmy Chen piped up. "How did you solve the problem of how to punish Emily even though girls can't be spanked?" he asked. "I'm all agog."

"There's a fine line, Mr. Chen," Mrs. Rose said, giving him an icy stare. "This is not the time to cross it. Remember what I said about all boys benefiting from a little beating now and then." Jimmy looked at his desk. Mrs. Rose turned back to Emily. "The solution was simple, really," she said, "And we were able to get approval of the board and of both of your parents. From this moment until the board acts again, when at this school, you, Miss Gitt, are officially a boy. And boys who steal and violate the trust of their fellow students most definitely are spanked at Miriam Webster Middle School."