Tommy's Attitude Adjustment Chapter 73
by Chadlad

copyright 2008 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 73: Stimulation All Around!

"Get dressed again, young man!" Mrs. Martinez ordered, shocking him out of the embarrassed stupor into which he'd fallen. "Believe me, we're all quite tired of the sight of you naked! Starting Monday, I believe I'll have to arrange for a mandatory exercise program for you, along with a strict diet – I'll clear it with your parents! There are several other boys we should probably include, too!" The thought had just occurred to her, and it was delicious – an exercise program for all the fat boys! Make them confront their obesity and be so shamed they feel compelled to lose weight! She'd work out the details later, but she knew already that the boys would be exercising butt naked, and in front of a mirrored wall if possible – let them see how bad they looked, and with no clothes to hide their big, gross butts and stomachs! Make them parade their fat shrouded little genitals, dwarfed by their fat bodies! She'd make the exercises semi-public – somewhere where teachers, administrators, and the occasional female student would happen by! Yes, she'd get to work on that right away!

Randy was climbing laboriously into his clothing – God, it took the fat boys forever to get dressed, even when they were in a hurry. She turned back to Chad, standing naked by S. F.'s chair. She wouldn't give this one an easy time, either. Never would she want the boys to know how much she enjoyed seeing, probing, and manipulating their naked bodies!

"YOU!" she said, making Chad jump. "I believe I was told you're back in diapers again because you still can't control yourself?"

"Aren't you, like, 13 or something?" the taller girl said. "And you still pee your pants?"

The two girls giggled. "Maybe we'd better stand to one side," the shorter girl said. "It might go off!"

"That's enough," Mrs. Martinez said. "We don't make fun of the incontinent boys, we simply help them as best we can. And as this one may wet himself again today, we'd best protect him with some diaper rash lotion. Back on the table, youngster! On your back and lift and spread your legs so we can diaper you.

Sighing, Chad assumed the position, his legs held on either side of his head, his little butt completely bent and spread so that the girls had full view and access of his anal-genital regions. The taller girl slathered his butt crack with zinc ointment, using a gloved hand, working it into his butt hole at least an inch, and the smearing it up to the bottom of his scrotum. The shorter girl did the same to his genitals, once again coaxing his small penis into erection as she rubbed the lotion into all sides and carefully under the head, and even into his pee slit, a procedure that was fairly uncomfortable but not screamingly painful. She played with the shaft for a bit under the guise of making sure he was coated fully there, because, as the older girl said, "That's the part that gets the wettest, right there where the pee comes out."

Just as Chad was starting to show serious signs of enjoying her touch, she stopped and stripped off her glove. The nurse retrieved a fresh big-boy diaper, then stopped suddenly as a glint of light off the shelf caught her attention. "Almost forgot your decoration," she said gaily, lifting Chad's cock ring and threading it through the hole piercing his glans. The gold ring looked even brighter surrounded by the whiteness of his zinc oxide covered, erect little 2-inch penis. It looked bigger to Chad today, and he wondered if he ought to measure it – maybe he was growing!

The nurse then turned her instruction for the girls to the process of properly diapering "big boys with bladder problems," demonstrating how to force his hard penis down and strap the diaper tightly around it, commenting on the tendencies of boys to get hard ons when they had to pee, and then to pee upward, soaking their shirts if their penises weren't properly covered. Finally, though, she pronounced him done and turned to S. F., removing the ice pack covering the boy's genitals.

Frowning, she examined him, "You're going to have to keep icing those," she said disapprovingly. "But we can't have you missing more of class. You'll just have to continue your icing treatment there. Here, put on this school shirt – I always have spares for the kids who vomit on themselves. It should be big enough to cover you but give you access to the ice pack."

She drew a longish shirt over S. F.'s head, and he obligingly slipped his arms out the sleeves. To his disappointment, the shirt barely came to the bottom of his scrotum, so that his penis head poked out shyly under the hem if he moved at all. He tried pulling down on the hem, but Mrs. Martinez brushed his hands aside. "Don't stretch out my shirt," she said chidingly. She pulled the front of the shirt up and replaced the ice pack on S. F.'s bruised genitals, now almost blue with cold. "Ice your genitals at least 10 minutes out of every twenty until after lunch," she ordered. "Especially the scrotum."

"I can't wear pants?" S. F. asked.

"Do you have some?" Mrs. Martinez countered. S. F. shook his head. "Well, it doesn't matter – you'd have to keep them unbuckled and unzipped anyway to ice yourself, so you'd be just as exposed. Well, then," Mrs. Martinez said, turning away. "Back to class, boys. Come, girls – we need to update their records, make prints of the pictures, and clean everything that came in contact with their bodies, especially their backsides."

"But…" S. F. started to say.

Chad took S. F. by the arm and propelled him to the door, pushing Randy ahead of him as they reached him. Randy looked shell-shocked and near tears, and studiously avoiding meeting the other boys' eyes. Chad had to push him twice more to make him move, Randy moving a few steps each time, then stopping. At the corner, Randy cradled his head in his arms and pressed against the wall, his body shaking. S. F. stopped his ungainly waddle and lifted the ice pack. "So cold," he commented, his teeth chattering as he did. He lifted his scrotum gingerly with his free hand, cold radiating from the oversized sack. His balls did look less swollen, he had to admit. "I think I'm getting frostbite," he said to Chad.

"Like you did when your sister gave you the stuff that makes you go?" S. F. said a little playfully. "I felt so bad for you that day," he added. He tried to imaging wearing a soiled diaper, your butt crack and even the area around your balls full of squishy poo, and shuddered.

Chad ducked his eyes, not liking remembering himself waddling to the nurses office with shit squishing between his legs. He knuckled the front of his diaper, trying to settle his penis into a more comfortable position. S. F. suddenly nodded his head toward Randy, whose body was shaking more violently as he stood against the wall, like he was trying to bury his head in it.

Randy shrugged him off with his shoulders and kept his head buried in his arms against the wall. "Leave me alone," he said in a choked, anguished voice.

"I don't care. Leave me alone," Randy said thickly, burying his face even more tightly in his hands and turning more away from Chad.

"Randy?" Chad said tentatively. "You okay?"

Randy's head jerked up, his misery becoming fury in an instant. "Okay?" he hissed. "You want to know if I'm okay? Oh, yeah! I'm just peachy! I'm so happy I might explode! First Emily the Bitch kicks me in the crotch, then I get stripped in front of two girls, and then they make me – they make me…" He took a deep breath. "You know what they made me do! You watched, don't say you didn't! So you know! You know I'm a freak, now! So go ahead! Go back to class and tell everyone I'm a freak! Tell 'em all how I do it!" Trying to keep his voice down, the resulting hiss made Randy seem menacing, somehow, and Chad took a step back.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I was just trying to help."

Chad looked like he'd been struck full on the jaw. He pulled back, lowering his head and flushing, turning away. It was his fault, wasn't it! Oh, sure, kids had been spanked before. Well, only boys, but lots had been spanked before. But not bare, not standing naked in front of everyone showing off their wieners and stuff! Not getting enemas, or being butt-fucked by little kids, or sucking boys' dicks, or being hit in the balls! He'd triggered it all, and now all the boys were suffering. He turned away. No wonder Randy was mad at him – all the boys probably felt that way.

S. F. removed his ice pack again and slipped between them. He looked strangely animated, his white skin flushing with excitement. He waved the ice pack and his free hand in Randy's face. "Hey!" he said sharply. "That's not fair! Don't try to lay all this on Chad. This isn't his fault – none of this is! Sure, he screwed up and hit a kid – all right, two kids! But who hasn't screwed up? He paid for it! He paid worse than anyone! He ran the Galadet!"

"Gauntlet," Chad corrected.

"Shut up," S. F. hissed. "Let me explain this!" He lowered his voice, now that he had Randy's silence as well as Chad's. "Look," he said in a more reasonable tone. "It isn't Chad's fault Emily beat us up. Sure, she hates Chad, but no one knows why – it's not like he did anything to be hated. She just hates guys."

"Maybe she doesn't like dicks," Chad suggested.

S. F. rolled his eyes at Chad. "She doesn't have to look at them, then," he said. "Yet she goes out of her way to, even getting us into trouble by framing us. But that's not my point – my point is that if she didn't hate Chad, she'd hate me, or you, or Joey. She's just a hater. And Mrs. Rose was just looking for someone to use as an example – if it hadn't been Chad, it would have been someone else. Jimmy, probably."

Chad, himself, hadn't thought of that, but considering the glee with which Mrs. Rose had sentenced them all to pain and humiliation, it made sense. "I bet you're right," he said quietly. "It would have been Jimmy. She was probably just waiting for him to screw up. But stupid me, I did it first."

"It doesn't matter who did it first," S. F. said, looking pointedly at Chad, " if Chad hadn't triggered all this butt paddling and all the other stuff by the school, another one of us would have. 'Cause we're boys, and boys screw up. My Mom says we can't help it – it all goes back to Adam."

"Fuck Adam," Randy said angrily. The forbidden word sounded foreign to both other boys, almost like a sudden blow to the ears. They looked at Randy in surprise. "Fuck Adam, and fuck you too, Farlow! And fuck you and your 'cute little wiener,' Chad! You're not fat – you don't know what it's like! Having everyone look at you and think what a big fat pig you are! Having a dick so short you can't even hold it to pee! I don't, you know! I stand at the pee thing, and I fake holding it, 'cause you other boys do! But I can't! But you wouldn't know about that, would you? Not you – you're Mr. Big Dick! Mr. 'I'm hung like a horse!' Mr. 'look at my long schlong!' You don't look like a girl like I do!"

"I do," said Chad.

"Not like me," Randy said. "And the girls all say yours is 'cute.' Bet they don't say that about me."

There was silence for a moment. Randy's face continued to darken. "You didn't have to do it like a pig on the ground in front of a whole bunch of people," Randy finished, his voice breaking and his anger spend. He turned to the wall and buried his face in his hands, sobbing into the safety of his arms like a heartbroken toddler.

S. F. pulled on Randy's shoulder. "We know," he said softly. "We both know. Chad had to do it, too, remember? In front of our class. In front of the little kids. He had to do it until he was sore from doing it, and couldn't do it any more, couldn't even get hard." His voice got softer. "And I had to do it, too," he added, looking at the floor. "Friday. In front of my Mom's prayer group. All those older women, and girls, even girls younger than me. They made me get naked, and they made me do it. Chad knows, I told him Saturday. My mom – well, she got the note from Mrs. Rose about the magazine that Emily planted. Her friend Mrs. Ardmore said I was some sort of heathen pervert. Well, I guess I am. And they – they made me do it – just like the nurse made you do it. My way, of course, not your way. But it was just as bad. No, it was worse. Because… because…" He paused, and wiped away a stray tear that had tried to leak out of the corner of his eye. He swiped impatiently at the other side, too, then straightened his shoulders and yanked Randy's arm hard enough that he twisted away from the wall, his tear-streaked face inches from S. F.'s.

"I was more perverted than either of you," he said. "I'd have done anything, I was so afraid. So when they said I had to – when they said I had to…."

He looked at Chad almost apologetically. "I didn't tell you all of it Saturday," he said. "I was too ashamed. About what they made me do. All those girls and women watching. And they made…" here he stopped, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "They made me eat it," he said.

"They what?" Randy said, straightening up, wiping his face, and then looking at S. F. in amazement.

"You mean, all that stuff that came out of you? Like in the nurse's office? They made you…eat it?" Randy said incredulously.

"All of it," S. F. said. "And I did it. And they all saw me do it – not just once, but a bunch of times. Well, after the third time stuff stopped coming out. But I ate it. So I know how you feel. Like you're dirty, and disgusting, and everyone who looks at you knows it."

"Big deal," Chad said suddenly. "So those girls and us know you hump the bed when you do it. So we saw you? And so what, S. F., if you had to eat your own cum! So what! It's not like you guys wanted to do that stuff, any more than I wanted to suck my brother Tommy and have him cum in my mouth…" He stopped, realizing what he'd blurted out. "We gotta get to class," he said, turning away. S. F. reached out and grabbed one side, and Randy grabbed the other.

"No, I sucked the dick he makes rainbows with," Chad said, unhappy to be restrained by both boys. He shook Randy off, but S. F. hung on firmly.

"You mean, your mom…she made you suck your own brother's… you're kidding!" S. F. said incredulously. "I thought my mom was mean."

"This from a guy who had to eat his own cum," Chad said. "I didn't have to do that!"

"I'd rather eat my own than my brother's," Randy said.

"You don't even have a brother," S. F. said.

"Well, if I did," Randy said.

"Besides, my mom didn't make me, not exactly," Chad said. "She just said Tommy could make me do anything he wanted to, and that's all he wanted to do, day and night!" He didn't add that Tommy had also brought his best friend into the party, and that Tommy's best friend had ended up paying Chad back multiple times, but in his case willingly. He liked Jesse too much to betray his secret – even more than he liked his new friend Alan.

Randy suddenly, impulsively, pulled Chad into a side embrace and hugged him like his life depended on it. Chad had trouble breathing for a moment. S. F. hesitated for a moment, then hugged Chad from the other side. "We're all pretty pathetic," he said.

Chad shook himself free. "So know you know," he said. "You know what I did. I'm the most pathetic of all."

"Look, it doesn't matter who's most pathetic," S. F. suddenly said. "Because we're all brothers, now, you know." Randy looked at him quizzically. "Didn't Chad tell you?" S. F. asked. "We formed a club. The club of boys who got punished naked in school. BRB! Brothers of the Red Butt! Me and Chad and Jimmy! And that little guy, Jesse! He's a kid Chad knows. And Alan! And you're a member, too! And we don't make fun of Brothers, do we Chad?"

"No," Chad said, feeling warm and accepted. He suddenly reached out and hugged both boys back. The three stood side by side like that momentarily. Suddenly realizing simultaneously how they must look, three boys hugging, including a boy in a diaper, and a boy with no pants on and his genitals and the bottom of his butt visible, they let go simultaneously and self-consciously. "We'd better get back," Chad said. S. F. moved his ice pack down to his balls again and began waddling up the hall awkwardly, Chad and Randy following, Chad looking especially juvenile in a diaper with Mickey Mouse cartoons on it, Randy looking big as a house walking beside the slightly built, smaller, but (as everyone now knew, slightly better hung) Chad. They turned into the classroom just in time to see that Emily Git, naked once again, was standing looking defiant in front of the class. Her hands had been bound in front of her with the wrists crossed and tightly circled with Velcro straps, and her legs were bound together so that she couldn't move without falling over, so she had to stand there with her tits and cunt on display. Her mouth was gagged tightly with a huge pacifier, tied with a thick ribbon around her head. The Reverend and her mother were standing on either side of her to keep her from twisting away from the gaze of the other classmates, and Mrs. Rose was working with apparatus at her own desk. She looked up as the three boys entered.

"Sit down, gentlemen," she ordered. "Mr. Henson, come sit in Mr. Gitt's chair, where you'll have the best view. Mr. Farlow, I'm sorry to report that your clothes didn't survive Mr. Gitt's theft, so we'll have to add their replacement to her list of obligations. Although I see you've found a garment of some sort." She looked at S. F.'s too-short shirt, his tight butt half visible on one side, ice pack on the other. "I was just preparing to introduce Mr. Gitt to The Stimulator. Perhaps Mr. Henson could fill you children in on how it works from a first-hand perspective."

"That's okay," Chad said quickly, sitting in Emily's chair. "You can tell them about it."

"No, I insist," Mrs. Rose said. "Stand up here by Mr. Gitt, and tell the class about your experience with The Stimulator and what it does to you and how it made you feel."

Okay, thought Chad. If I have to do this, I might as well give Emily a good scare. He got up and turned so he was facing sideways, so he could address Emily and the class at the same time.

"They stick an egg-thing up your butt," he said. "Way up it, as far as a finger can go. And it feels like it's a mile wide up there. And they put this wire on your front, too. Then they turn it on and it makes you burn inside, so bad you can't stand it. And it makes you want to rub your – you have to rub yourself or you can't stand it, and the longer it's in the harder you have to rub yourself. But it never feels good, no matter how hard you rub – if you cum you just have to rub yourself harder, and it feels even more burny. Even if you rub yourself raw. That's about it."

"Very graphic, Mr. Henson," Mrs. Rose said. "But essentially true. I might add that The Stimulator has a series of different settings of different strengths. The lower settings actually border on being pleasurable, but as the settings are increased, the experience becomes increasingly more painful. The top setting, I am told, causes extreme agony even in adult males and females, along with a masturbatory compulsion so great that it cannot be ignored."

S. F. raised his free hand, the other still nestled between his legs trying to keep the ice pack only lightly centered on his genitals and keep the shirt down over them at the same time. "Yes, Mr. Martinez?" Mrs. Rose said.

"I don't get it," Randy said. "She doesn't have a penis. I know she's got a thing kind of like one, but it's still real little. So how can you put a wire around it, like Chad said? And how do girls…you know…how do they…?" He trailed off, as Mrs. Rose was frowning.

"I'll remind you that Mr. Gitt is, for the moment, not a girl," she said chidingly. "However, females do engage in masturbatory activities from time to time. Oh, not nearly as much as you perverted little boys, but they certainly do their share. And I've a feeling Mr. Gitt does more of such activity than most girls."

S. F.'s ears perked up. Girls played with themselves? Like boys? His mother had said masturbation was a disgusting male habit, and all the girls and women in the prayer group had acted like they never even considered touching themselves. But Mrs. Rose was saying lots of girls did it. His world tilted for a moment. Had anything his mother told him been true?

A new thought struck him. How did girls do it? He knew how boys did it – actually, after his experience of the last few weeks, he knew several different ways boys did it. He circled his penis with his thumb and forefinger and made long strokes down his penis shaft from tip to base. But Chad inverted his hand, and concentrated mostly on the tip of his, going back and forth very rapidly over the mushroom helmet. And Randy humped his against pillows. But what did girls do? He stared at Emily's exposed genitals. She couldn't circle that droopy little finger of tissue at the top of her slit with her fingers like he and Chad did. Maybe she could squeeze it and yank on it, but yanking didn't sound like it would feel good. Perhaps she just rubbed it or something.

"As lunch time is nearing," Mrs. Rose said. "I'm not going to spend any more class time commenting on the masturbatory techniques of males and other people. I suggest instead that we simply hook Mr. Gitt up and we can all see for ourselves just what he does. Mr. Gitt, please turn to face the blackboard and bend down to spread your bottom so we can insert The Stimulator.

Emily glared at her around the pacifier, not moving. "Mr. Gitt, I'm warning you," Mrs. Rose said. "All this resistance is childish and futile, and only brings more punishment on you. I had been going to start you off with the Stimulator set on '6,' the recommended setting for a person of your level of development and sex, but because of your delay in following my orders, I'm starting it at '7,' a setting that is quite a bit more uncomfortable. And if you don't comply with my order fairly quickly, I'm going to change that to '8.' Remember, '10' is screamingly painful even to adults. Mr. Henson started on 6 but was shifted to 7 in the middle of his ordeal. Tell us, Mr. Henson, how did that feel?"

"I couldn't stand it," Chad admitted. "It burned inside me so bad! And it tickled, you know. Kind of a burning, unbearable tickle that went all the way to the tip of my di…my boy stuff. And all the way inside. It's as bad as a paddling while it's going on, and you're sore for days afterward."

"How long was it before you could masturbate again afterward, Mr. Henson?" Mrs. Rose asked. Chad flushed. "Mr. Henson?" she asked again when he didn't answer, severe warning in her voice.

"Six days," Chad said, blushing. "I couldn't do it for 6 days."

"Bet he was so horny he couldn't stand it," Jimmy muttered to Cynthia. "I can't go more than 2 days without doing it."

"Neither can I," she whispered back. "It's too fun." Jimmy, who'd been sitting on just one side of butt to get a clearer view and to be close enough to whisper to Cynthia, was so startled at this admission he almost fell off his chair. He looked at her in amazement, and she returned his gaze calmly, just like girls admitted to boys that they loved masturbating every day. Did they? Could they?

"Six days, Mr. Gitt," Mrs. Rose intoned. "I suggest you turn around and bend at the waist right now."

"My daughter, or should I say my temporary son, is obviously as stupid as he is stubborn," Mrs. Gitt said brightly. "Perhaps, Reverend, it's time for us to step in and save her from her own pride and recalcitrance. She gripped Emily's bound arm more tightly and began walking in a circle around her, turning her butt to the class as she did. The Reverend, catching on, gripped Emily's other side even more tightly and backed around as well, so all three were soon facing the blackboard. Emily's reddened buns with their healthy crop of blisters like little freckles scattered over the surface glowed at the watching children, only inches from Chad's face. He admired the chain of almost continuous blisters that ran down both sides of her butt crack, where his slaps had pinched her buns together with each blow. "On the count of three," Emily's mother said. "One, two,…" As she reached "three," she and the Reverend pushed on Emily's shoulders and head simultaneously, forcing the girl to bend at the waist, her butt thrusting toward Chad and opening, revealing the white, untouched skin deep in her crack, her ragged and pursed butt hole with its dark brown coloring, and, just below it, the open gap of her pussy, the pinkness inside it glistening with moisture. Mrs. Rose moved quickly, stepping from the front where she'd been coating the egg-like probe of The Stimulator with lubricant to the girl's side. Swiftly, she lined the egg up with the girl's ass hole, the wires trailing behind, and with gloved fingers pushed it roughly into the tightly pursed but ragged sphincter. Emily struggled and released a drawn out moan past the gag of her pacifier, a moan that increased as the egg stretched the widening orifice impossibly far, until it circled the egg like a fleshy mouth. In moments it slipped smoothly in, Mrs. Rose's finger following it all the way to the knuckle, then being withdrawn to leave the two thin wires trailing out the girl's butt as evidence of the intruder inside her. Emily was struggling ineffectively and her sides were heaving as she continued moaning, her butt hole contracting with each moan as if she was trying to push the intruder out.

"Straighten her up," Mrs. Rose said. "With its size I doubt if she could expel the probe anyway, but she'll have a lot harder time if she's upright."

Emily was jerked back to the vertical, the Reverend and her mother than rotating her to face the class, having to hold her still now as she struggled ineffectively with her arms and legs bound and the pacifier filling her mouth, giving her the appearance of a comical baby. Just to add to the effect, Mrs. Rose came forward with a frilly baby bonnet, which she tied over Emily's head. "It has a blue ribbon on it for a baby boy," she explained as she knotted the bonnet in place. Emily tossed her head when it was released, but the bonnet, like the pacifier, remained in place.

Mrs. Rose then knelt by Emily's crotch, right in front of Chad. He watched with interest as she removed backing tape from two strips of metal and then stuck them to Emily's crotch, one on either side of her cunt, about an inch from the opening itself. "As Mr. Gitt has very little in the way of a penis to connect to, these strips designed for girls and for poorly endowed boys will have to do," she explained, looking at Randy while saying "poorly endowed boys." Randy flushed and then looked down. Mrs. Rose got up again. Emily was still trying, ineffectually, to struggle, but her movements were becoming weaker. Mrs. Rose took up the control panel for The Stimulator. She moved to where she could look Emily in the eyes. "Now that you're connected, I'll have no more nonsense from you, Mr. Gitt," she said. She held up the control panel, pointing to a large red button near the level controls and the on/off switch. "This is the panic button," she said. "When I press it, The Stimulator delivers a signal that exceeds even the highest setting on the stimulator, and it continues to deliver that signal until I release the button. The effect is one of intense, unbearable pain. At the same time, you can't move your arms, bend over, or do anything except stand there rigidly while you enjoy that pain. I am now going to give you a small taste of how that feels."

Panic radiated from Emily's eyes, and she worked her mouth, obviously trying to protest through the pacifier but only managing to squeak around it. Her eyes fixated on Mrs. Rose's finger, poised over the button.

Mrs. Rose pressed the button, releasing it instantly. Emily's back arched, thrusting her cunt toward Chad. Her arms went rigid, her legs tensed, her butt clenched, and her pussy lips convulsed. Pee trickled from between her legs, coursing down one leg to the floor. A muffled squeal escaped the pacifier, and then her muscles relaxed again, and she hunched slightly, panting through her nose and around the pacifier, her whole body shaking. Mrs. Rose let her catch her breath and straighten up with The Reverend and her mother's help, then reached over, grasped her hair, and made Emily look into her eyes.

"I'm going to be removing your arm and leg bonds now," she said to Emily. "So that you'll be able to comfort yourself as you must when I turn The Stimulator on. When I do, you will stand her in front of the class and make no effort to escape, or do anything else except handle yourself for whatever comfort that gives you. If you make any move to remove the probe or the contact strips, or to escape, I'll press the panic button, but this time I'll hold it down for several seconds. You might pass out from the pain in that case, but don't worry, we'll revive you so that you can experience the button being pushed several more times. If you persist in trying to escape, I'll simply push the button more times and for longer times until you learn. Is that clear?"

Emily nodded slightly, as much as she could being held by her hair. Mrs. Rose and The Reverend got to work releasing her from the Velcro straps, and in moments Emily Gitt was standing awkwardly in front of the class, stark naked with her pussy and small, conical tits on display, rubbing her wrists where the Velcro had held them. She glared at the children watching her, looking juvenile and ridiculous in her bonnet and sucking a pacifier.

Mrs. Rose turned to the class. "I'm going to start The Stimulator now for Mr. Gitt's punishment. I'll know from the state of his rather odd genitals when he's had enough, but that may not be for quite awhile. Mr. Gitt, you will know what to do as soon as the stimulation starts, so I need tell you nothing else except not to be foolish enough to attempt to escape." She frowned at the class, her eyes moving from boy to boy back through the room. "Oh, and one more thing before we start," she said icily. "You boys will all put both your hands on top your desks, and leave them there during Mr. Gitt's entire punishment. We just received a second probe for the Stimulator over the weekend, and this controller can handle up to four simultaneously. So any boy caught moving his hands anywhere near the vicinity of his own genitals during this punishment will join Mr. Gitt up here. Do I make myself clear?

Ten pairs of masculine hands made their way to the desktops within moments, Chad, Randy, S. F., and Jimmy moving theirs so fast it was like they were avoiding a fire, Big Sam and Joey moving theirs more slowly and almost insolently, but still obeying. Mrs. Rose nodded approvingly. "Good," she said. "Now, Mr. Gitt, we will begin your ordeal."