The Orphanage Boys Chapter 19
by Chadlad

copyright 2009 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 19: Nineteenth Floor: Bedroom accessories

Though it seemed like forever to Sam, Kath actually only held the ice on his bare balls for about a minute before relenting and turning the cone around to once again dilate and invade his tortured butt hole. Still, his balls and dick felt completely numb by the time she had moved the ice to his long suffering hole. Raising his head high enough to glance at his crotch, he discovered, to his dismay, that his genitals had disappeared. There was only a tight patch of wrinkles at his crotch, slightly pinker then the rest of his body, topped by a barely visible circle of skin open enough that the pee slit of his penis head was visible. His foreskin itself did not protrude all. He looked like a plastic doll down there, a doll a tiny hole to pee out of, like the plastic wetting doll a girl in their apartment had carried around for some time. This bothered him even more than it normally would have, because not only had his boyhood disappeared almost entirely, but the timing of the disappearance was terrible. Deep down, he had a primal urge to impress these girls, and all girls, with his manliness, with the virility of his organs. Yes, his penis wasn't big compared to the boys with hair, but his erections were hard and impressive. Shrinking down to toddler size made him feel rather like a toddler himself, and being treated like he was a toddler as well didn't help. Despairing, Sam buried his head in the pillow again, shivering as the sadistic girl in charge of him pressed relentlessly on the cone of ice, stretching his numb butt hole out to its limits once again.

Across from him, Jake was having an easier time, because his own butt hole was so cold he couldn't feel it, and the girl in charge of him was not pressing as hard as Kath was. Also, his butt hole had given up and was fully dilated, and his intestines had stopped gurgling for the moment. And he was grateful for the fact that he did not feel he was in danger of emptying his bowels with his ass in the air in the shameful way that Sam had just done, with both girls watching with horror (Freck), or malicious glee (Kath).

So the icing continued for forever, followed once again by a brief genital massage that lasted just long enough to coax Sam's penis out of hiding and to make Jake even more frustrated as he neared that wonderful pleasure he'd just learned in the last day, only to have it denied again when he was near the point of ecstasy, so near that he was shivering with anticipation and eagerness. But once again Kath ordered Freck to withdraw from his throbbing organ before he could bring himself to that enticing climax, and orgasm was once again denied him. The butt massages that followed were once again a disturbing combination of pleasure and pain, as the raw, blistered flesh of both boys protested the treatment, yet their yearning genitals swelled and craved the touch of the small, feminine hands on their sensitive butt skin. Jake's penis was pulsing and he was sure he was nearing orgasm even without being touched directly on his dick, but then that came the ice once again, and his dick, chilled to the core, surrendered and sagged.

And so it continued. Each cycle started with tantalizing genital touches that brought both Jake and Sam almost to orgasm (Kath, being rougher and less gentle than Freck, did not bring Sam quite so close to the edge, but Sam found the process frustrating, too). Then, before Jake could crest and before Sam was even near cresting, would come the mixture of pleasure and pain that resulted from having well paddled butts massaged. That also continued until Jake thought he was going to feel that mind-boggling explosion of sensation from his crotch, but Kath had a 6th sense for that, it seemed, because she'd call a halt to both her manipulations of Sam and Freck's manipulations of Jake, and they'd wait until the clock said it was time to shift back to the ice once again, numbing the boys' ardor and starting the whole cycle once again. By the third cycle, Jake's balls begin to ache from the strain. (He didn't know that this unfulfilled condition was known as "blue balls" and was familiar to Catholic boys everywhere, he just knew that his balls ached with unfulfilled need. But, Catholic girls being what they were, he'd learn plenty about having blue balls in the years to come, and the lesson would be more painful as his balls would fill with unreleased seminal fluid rather than just swelling helplessly as they did now in his immature, dry well state.)

It seemed like an endless number of cycles until it was time for them to take their next hourly break. But now a new horror awaited Sam, as he was ordered to carry the bedpan to the toilet and dump the contents. Then, her eyes gleaming, Kath ran water into the pan and ordered him to scrub the pan clean with his bare hands. "But, but ... But I'll get poop on me!" Sam protested.

"Your poop, your problem!" Kath said. Sam's penis, which had been hard and curved toward his belly button as a result of his most recent genital and butt massage, immediately begin sagging, signaling his genuine distress at the disgusting prospect. "Wash it out with your hands, or lick it up with your tongue, it makes no difference to me which one you do," Kath added. "But you will do one of them. Guess which one I'll pick if I have to make you do it." Penis steadily shrinking, face taking on a sickly green hue, Sam dutifully rubbed his hands across the bottom of the bedpan over and over, until Kath finally pronounced it clean enough. To Sam's relief, though, Freck insisted that he be allowed to wash his hands with soap thoroughly before they went ahead with their stretching exercises. Jake's unfulfilled penis bounced impotently in space, pointing outward as they did jumping jacks facing the girls. In comic contrast, Sam's flaccid penis flopped comically as they both hopped until they were panting and out of breath. Freck felt unfamiliar sensations in her own crotch as she watched first one penis and then the other in fascination, actually eager to start the next round where she'd be able to feel Jake's throbbing little tool in her hand once again. Then it was back onto the beds, where Jake had to confront new embarrassment.

Freck noticed right away that Jake seemed agitated, and squirmed as he settled in into the bed in the embarrassing butt-up, head down position ordered by the nuns for their treatment.

"Hold still," Freck chided.

"I gotta go," Jake responded, his voice almost a whisper in his embarrassment.

"Not number 2," Jake said quickly, his face flushed with embarrassment. Only major pee urgency was making it possible for him to talk about this intimate thing to this young girl at all. "Number 1. I gotta go number 1."

"Oh," Freck said, her face showing her relief. She felt she could handle that. Not that she'd seen any boys peeing before, but it was probably a lot like watching a male dog pee, and she'd seen that. Pressing on the boy's legs to urge them more widely apart, she slid the bedpan between them, under the boys crotch. But there was still a problem. Jake's erect penis was pointing toward his face.

"You have to hold--hold it down," Jake said urgently, fighting to keep from peeing too soon and shamefully wetting the bed and possibly spraying his face.

"What?" Freck asked, perplexed.

"What?" Freck asked again.

"You have to hold his dick, you silly goose," Kath said authoritatively. "You have to aim it into the pan. That's what makes boys so stupid, they can't even pee right."

"Can't you do it, Kath?" Freck asked.

"No!" both at Jake and Kath said together. Kath glared at the boy, who was practically trembling with pee need. "Your boy, your problem," Kath added. "Isn't that what you said to me?"

"I gotta take a pee, too!" Sam said suddenly. All this talk of peeing had awakened his own urges.

"You're have to wait till he's finished," Kath said. "There's only one bed pan."

"But I gotta go now,"! Sam wailed.

"Typical boy," Kath said to Freck in a superior tone. "Can't hold it, always thinking they gotta pee. My little brother couldn't go anywhere without having to water the bushes on the side of the road." She looked at the now pleading Sam. "You'll just have to hold it, sport."

"But I really gonna go! Samm wailed.

"Here, I'll help you wait," Kath said. Reaching between his legs, she pinched the end of his foreskin shut. Sam yelped but froze, afraid of what would happen if he moved his hips with her holding his dick by the sensitive foreskin. In response, she pitched his foreskin even harder. His bladder let go, but her iron grip prevented the pee from exiting, creating an unbearable burning sensation in the tip of the boy's organ. Sam stood up on his knees, scrabbling at her hand and whimpering, but she just squeezed harder and he could do nothing to free himself from his torment. Her eyes gleamed and smirk of satisfaction filled her face.

Meanwhile, Freck gently grasped the hard end of Jake's penis and tried to force it down so it pointed at the bedpan. The turgid organ immediately slipped out of her fingers and bounced against his belly. Scrambling to pull it down again, she stroked the tip as she tried to get a grip on it, lost it, captured it again, lost it again, and finally gripped it a third time. Jake's frustrated body immediately took over, his butt clenched tightly, and he thrilled to the most powerful orgasm he had ever felt up to that point, an orgasm that had him moaning aloud and clenching his butt tightly again and again as he penis jerked and pulsed. His orgasm was dry, of course, and it was over in a moment. While Freck tried to figure out what had just happened, his penis sagged almost immediately and his bladder let go at the same time. Pee splashed loudly into the pan, and she immediately was distracted from his previous gyrations, focusing on keeping the surprisingly powerful stream aimed into the pan. The strength of it surprised her - she'd never peed so powerfully herself, and, not having a little brother as Kath had, she wasn't aware of the muscle strength boys could put to bear on their bladders. Jake could distantly feel little splashes from his efforts rebounding to strike his inner thighs, but for the moment he felt so good from the combination orgasm and bladder relief that he didn't care.

Across the way, Sam was protesting loudly that he had to pee, and pee now. "It burns, it burns!" he wailed. Jake's output dribbled to a conclusion and he unconsciously squirted out the final few drops with a strong abdominal clench that would serve him well in ejaculation in years to come, and Freck, seeing a drop hanging from the tip, instinctively did the right thing and gave his now sagging, head-swollen penis a shake, then released it and hurried the bed pan to Kath, trying not to slosh on the way. Kath yanked Sam's penis down painfully and then released it, and Sam's output flowed in to spatter loudly as it joined Jake's. Freck watched the other boy pee with glittering fascination, amazed by the way the yellow-tinted stream poured so forcefully out of the hole in the tip. As his stream dribbled to a halt, Kath yanked his penis hard two or three times to clear it, and shoved the bed pan at Freck.

"Put it over there, they'll dump it later," she ordered briskly. "Let's get the ice back on them." She had been too busy to notice Jake's orgasm, and he was fortunate for it, because had she done so she probably would have ordered his genitals iced until he'd contracted frostbite. She also didn't notice the post orgasmic state of his penis, either, because she was focusing on Sam's butt hole and her efforts to make it open farther than it had already opened.

And so they went into the afternoon. The girls were eventually brought food from the cafeteria by a sneering, superior boy of Flip's age, who stayed long enough to mock their ice-shrunken genitals and wide open, exposed butt holes before leaving, circling the boys and viewing their naked bodies from all sides as the cowered, head down, on the beds. The girls munched sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper and then crunched raw vegetables, while the boys looked on hungrily but were not offered any of that enticing food. The boy had brought them a Mason jar the full of punishment porridge and two empty bowls, but Kath insisted that neither could eat until, "something comes out of the other end of that one," her hand indicating Jake. And Jake, hoping desperately not to have to perform such a humiliating as Sam had been forced to do in front of the girls (it had been bad enough having to pee in front of Freck, although the orgasm had been exquisite), fought the urge to poop all afternoon.

And then suddenly, Sister Grace was back, and the girls were dismissed (Kath grimacing as she was reminded of her appointment with Sister Mary Catherine). And then the most wonderful thing happened. Sister Grace took them back to the shower and very gently washed their butts and genitals (in cold water, but gently), and then she allowed them to down their punishment gruel while standing by the shower. Afterward, she had them climb onto the beds and lie on their sides, then she ordered them to take a nap. And although both boys were still naked and exposed, and their bare butts and genitals were visible to anyone passing the windows, both boys immediately fell into a deep sleep.

It was dark outside when they awakened, and the room was lit only by a lamp near the chair where Sister Grace sat with a Bible open on her lap, sound asleep. Jake rolled over so he could face Sam, wincing a bit as he did. His butt was still sore and stiff -- a boy did not get over a severe paddling in just a day, let along several. Still, he felt better that he had for days, probably the best he'd felt since the moment that Sister Mary Catherine's paddle had descended upon his underpants clad butt for the first time.

"I gotta pee," Sam whispered across to him.

"Yeah, I gotta go poo," Jake whispered back. "You suppose we can use the toilet?"

"That big mean nun said we couldn't," Sam whispered back.

"She's not here," Jake whispered back.

"She could pop up at any time," Sam said in return. "She's like magic that way."

Jake spotted the bedpan sitting on the bed next to his. He sat up, wincing as the movement stretched his sore butt again, dragged the pan over to the bed, and tried to settle down onto it in a sitting position. His butt immediately protested his weight, and he shifted his weight to his legs, putting his legs on either side of the pan and squatting over it, so that his weight was not on his sore butt. Feeling embarrassed but driven by necessity, he had to reach back in and gently cup each bun, spreading his butt a bit so that he did not smear himself, a process he would normally have accomplished by simply sitting on his cheeks and letting the toilet seat force them apart. Grunting and then reddening in the face from the embarrassment of it even though only Sam was present and he'd pooped on the toilet in front of Sam before, he took his first poop in two days. As he finished and felt the mass break off his butt and pushed to get the least bit out, he noticed that was watching between his legs with undisguised interest. "Pervert," he muttered.

"Hey, I never saw no one poop before," Sam said frankly. "I mean, you sat on the toilet in front of me before, but you don't see it then. It's kinda neat. Like, your hole opens up and this log just comes out, and it keeps coming and coming..."

He paused in mid sentence, realizing Jake was looking at him strangely and not comfortably, and stood up. "Gimme that. I gotta pee," he said, changing the subject to their mutual relief, and standing and moving to the side of Jake's bed.

"I gotta wipe first," Jake said.

Sam tilted his head and without shame looked up at Jake's butt cross-eyed from close range. "Yeah, you do," he said. "You got poo on you. But only a little, right where it comes out. Right where the—the hole is. But you can't touch yourself. The big mean nun said so."

"I'll wipe you," Sam said.

Jake's expression betrayed his feelings. "Hey, better me than one of the nuns," Sam said. "I won't actually touch it--the hole--it'll just be the toilet paper touching it." Jake still looked doubtful, but staying unwiped was not something he wanted to risk, so he bent down, butt in the air, and held still while Sam took toilet paper and, careful not to touch the corrugated skin of his friends butt hole, wiped Jake until he looked clean once again. The he tossed the toilet paper into the bedpan and straightened up. He slid the pan to the edge of the bed as Jake settled on his side, watching. "I gotta pee bad now," Sam said, reaching for his pee-erect penis, pointing at his face, to aim it at the pan.

"You can't touch yourself, either," Jake said.

"We could wake her up," Jake said, indicating the slightly snoring Sister Grace. "She's usually pretty nice."

Sam flushed. "I don't want a nun holding me down there," he said. "It's embarrassing. But you and I, well..."

He didn't have to say any more. They were like brothers, or fraternal twins, like corresponding parts of each other. So Jake rose and, standing beside his old buddy, took Sam's penis and pointed it down at the bedpan while Sam noisily peed onto Jake's curled mound of boy shit, giggling as his stream penetrated and eroded it. Jake shook off Sam's last drops and they two boys' eyes met briefly, triggering preadolescent giggles. Jake dropped the other boy's organ self-consciously. Touching it while Sam had peed had felt strange, because to his fingers it felt like his own phallus, yet there was the unfamiliar sensation of not feeling himself touching himself down there at the same time. His lifelong friend's penis had vibrated, almost buzzed with the pee flowing through it, and his heart could be felt just under the skin, pulsing rapidly.

"We better clean this," Jake said, pointing at the bedpan. "So no one will know." Picking it up gingerly and walking carefully so as not to slosh, he carried it to the toilet, where he dumped the bed pan and wiped it with toilet paper (a great improvement over using bare hands the way Sam had done).

"You gotta flush it," Sam said. "Or she'll see when she wakes up."

"What if flushing it wakes her up?" Jake asked. "It's pretty loud."

That actually made some sense, and, unable to think of anything else, Jake waved Sam to the bed, where he quickly got on his side again with his legs bent and his butt open like before. Jake looked guiltily at Sister Grace, still snoring, and then pushed the round flush handle and practically flew to the hospital bed, his butt protesting loudly from having to move so fast. He dove into bed, jackknifed his body, and then risked a glance at Sister Grace. Sister Grace stirred but did not wake up at the sound. A moment later he and Sam were seized with giggles once again.

Time passed slowly after that. They had already slept for some time and weren't tired, but they knew they'd better stay in bed. After awhile, Sam lifted his head.

"Jake, you asleep?" he whispered.

"No," Jake whispered back, his eyes watching the sleeping Sister Grace warily.

"What do you think happens tomorrow?" Sam said after a moment. "Something bad, I bet."

"Maybe it won't be so bad," Jake said, mostly to try to quell his own rising anxiety.

"Yeah, it will," Sam said. "They get worse and worse each day, just like the big nun said they would. So tomorrow will be worse yet, even worse than getting M & M's in our butts, and worse than getting shot back there and in our balls."

"That hurt," Jake said. "The ball thing worst of all."

"No, the worst was the one that got my weenie," Sam said. "But they were all bad. Even the shots in the butt. And the the spankin's. They hurt a lot. And all that stuff Sister Whatsit stuffed up our butts. I thought we weren't supposed to shove stuff up our butts. Remember how my mom said not to put our fingers up there, because it's dirty?"

"Yeah," Jake said.

"That was weird," Jake conceded.

"But kinda fun," Sam said after a moment. "I mean, it was weird, but it was good, too. Like when you get tickled too much, so much you want to pee yourself. You can't stand it, but it's fun, too. Like that guy that used to visit our moms, the one who always tickled us before we got sent to our room to study."

Jake remembered the guy Sam was talking about very well. He was clearly a grown up, but he wasn't old (he was actually their mother's youngest regular client, and was only 16, but he seemed grown up to the boys). Unlike many of their mothers' other "friends," he would show up in the afternoon, often when the boys were doing homework or listening to the radio, and hang out with them a bit, kind of like an uncle, before the moms would send the boys to their room so they could do "grownup business." The visits would start with talk about favorite radio shows or baseball, but would always degenerate into a wrestling match between the "grownup" and the two boys, a wrestling match they both enjoyed with lots of kicking and giggling and boyish energy. But the young man would always manage to pin them both, and then he'd tickle them, first one and then the other, alternating back and forth. At first they'd giggle, then laugh uncontrollably, then beg him to stop, and then after awhile the tickling got so intense that they couldn't stand it. Jake remembered how he always fought to keep from peeing himself, but that he always peed himself a little bit, anyway, just enough to spot the front of his shorts or his trousers. A couple of times he'd shyly glanced at Sam's crotch once they'd gone to their room and observed that Sam had spotted his trousers, too. He also caught Sam looking at the front of his pants once or twice, but both were so embarrassed at peeing themselves they never mentioned it or discussed it. And Jake, of course, never noticed the "grownup's" massive erection during the tickling, or his sly observation of their crotches, and thus Jake never realized that making them pee their pants was actually the boy's ultimate aim. He remembered peeing his pants, though. He remembered the battle to fight the laughter, and to fight to hold his sphincter, a fight that made him want to reach in his pants and seize his penis by the base and squeeze to hold it in, just like he had when he'd been a toddler. And then the hot spurt of wetness that he'd cut off quickly, but too late, too late, as body heat had immediately enshrouded his traitor of a penis in wetness that also spread quickly to his bare groin and his tight balls. Along with the realization that he'd failed again, that he couldn't hold it.

Jake also never observed their moms with the boy afterward, so he didn't have a clue of just how aroused tickling the little boys until they peed their pants made him, or how much money the fact of allowing him to do so made for their moms. They also never knew how much he wanted to taunt them for being babies and peeing their pants, how badly he wanted to unzip and unbuckle their pants and pull them down afterward, and make the boys stand there in their shame with their wet underpants on display, and then peel them down, too, so he could make fun of their hairless, tiny "baby pee-pees," point out the smallness of their balls, and mock them for being such babies as to pee themselves. But Jake's mom had put her foot down, and Sam's mom had agreed - he could tickle the boys until he made them pee their pants a little, but not a lot, they wouldn't let him tickle them until they flooded their pants. And they drew the line there--no amount of money would buy him more than that, although he brought the issue up a few times, begging them to let him strip and humiliate them. In fact, they made it clear that if either boy was humiliated, if he so much as mentioned their damp spots, he would never be allowed to return. So he'd had to be content with making them pee just a bit, and with imagining just how ashamed their minor loss of control made them feel. And his even stronger fantasies of spanking them one at a time on their bare bottoms for peeing themselves, and of forcing their adorable little mouths to suck his own penis as a "lesson," had to remain in his mind. Indeed, had their moms known he harbored such thoughts, they would have been in their room each time he came from that point on. Besides, they were extremely good at their jobs, especially together, so he'd always left happy and fulfilled, even if all his longings weren't satisfied.

Yes, Jake remembered the man who tickled him until he peed his pants very well. And what the priest had done had been something like that - tickly, and fun and too much at the same time. But how it ended - that was different. That shuddering explosion just when it got too tickly to stand - that had felt so good, better than anything. Better than scratching an itch (but similar, somehow), better than eating a hamburger when you were so hungry you couldn't stand it, better than peeing when you'd had to go so bad you were hopping from foot to foot and gripping yourself in desperation, better than having a bunch of splinters pulled out of your butt, as he and Sam both had experienced, better than climbing into bed when you're dead tired, better than when you have to make a big poop and it's hard and hurts coming out, but finally comes out and you feel so good down there that it's finally out. Better than all those things. And somehow he knew, Jake wasn't sure how, but he knew, that if he were to touch his own penis, and stroke it like the priest had done, he'd feel just as good again, maybe even better, because he could control it then, and do just what felt good to him. Yet, they were both now forbidden to touch their penises except to pee, something that had been made clear upon their arrival at the orphanage, and now they weren't even permitted to touch them to pee! And his dick longed to be touched, to be stroked in a way that he could not have imagined a week ago, when he could have touched it all he wanted and no one would have stopped him.

"Yeah, that felt good," Jake said.

"So why can't we touch 'em?" Sam asked. "They're ours, aren't they? They're part of us. So why can't we touch 'em?"

"Because we're being punished, I guess," Jake said.

"No, that's not it," Sam said. "'Cause none of the boys can touch theirs, either. Remember what the priest said - if we touch ourselves, they'll put it in a box so we can't, and we have to pee out of the box like that kid in the other dorm, and smell like pee all the time like he does."

"Yeah," Jake said. "I think you go to Hell if you touch it."

"Then why does it feel so good?" Sam asked. "If God doesn't want us to touch it, why does it feel so good?"

"I don't know," Jake conceded.

"Mine's hard again," Sam said. "Why does it get hard all the time? It didn't used to do that. I mean, it got hard once in awhile, but now it gets hard all the time."

"Mine, too," Jake said, looking at his now throbbing hard on, peeking out from his crotch. "I don't know why."

"I don't get it," Sam said, still looking down at his crotch. He lifted his left leg, the upper one as he lay on his side, so that he could see his crotch more clearly, his eyes almost crossing as he studied his curved, throbbing little dick, slightly reddened from the many rough massages he'd gotten from Kath that afternoon, and the "treatment" he'd gotten from the priest that morning. "Why does it get hard? It's not good for anything that way - it just sticks out and gets in the way, and makes your pants stick out, too, so everyone can see if they look. And it's harder to pee through, too. So why does it get hard?"

"I don't know," Jake said again. It didn't seem to make any sense. His dick got in the way all the time, anyway, without being hard. You could catch it in a zipper if you weren't careful, and it bounced and wiggled around if you walked around naked, which he and Sam had been doing a lot of lately. But you could hold it out to pee, and not get pee on you, and not even have to take down your pants to pee, and those were all good things, so it made sense to have it. The hints he'd gotten, that girls didn't have them, made him feel sorry for them. But getting hard, that was puzzling, because it didn't help with peeing - it didn't get any longer than it was when he pulled it out as far as it would go when it was soft. So it didn't make you pee any farther when it got hard. So what good was it, that getting hard?

"Father What's-his-name said that God made us in his image, and everything he does has a purpose," Sam continued. "He said that this morning in the chapel. So it must get hard because he wants it to get hard. But why does God want our weenies to get hard?"

"Maybe it's a test," Jake said. "Maybe He wants to call our attention to it to see if we'll touch ourselves."

"Maybe," Sam whispered. But he sounded doubtful. "If he didn't want us to touch ourselves, though, why did he make it feel good when we do?"

"I don't know," Jake whispered back. "Maybe you should ask the big mean nun."

"It is not God who tempts us, but Satan," a harsh voice suddenly broke in over their heads. Both boys jumped, and Jake almost peed the bed right on the spot but clamped down just in time, mainly because his bladder was nearly empty. "Satan tempts boys, but God gives them the power to resist. But He also gives us a choice! You cannot be Godly if you have no opportunity to resist temptation!"

Sister Mary Catherine was standing, looming over them in her imposing fashion, having come in through the back door that entered through the janitor's closet on the girls' side, an entrance that neither Jake nor Sam had known existed.

She fixed Jake with a steely glare. "I know you boys think I'm mean for enforcing God's just punishments on you. That's because your minds are clogged with sin, and with the brand of Satan. In time, you will come to realize that in punishing your flesh, I'm actually the kindest person here, certainly kinder than your precious Sister Grace, who coddles the evil in you rather than extinguishing it. One day, you'll all thank me for every punishment I justly meted out. Or you will sink into sin, depraved and lost to the Kingdom of the Lord."

She stalked between the beds and forced Sam's knees down, flipping him onto his back and examining his genitals, which had lost their turgidness as soon as she'd started speaking and were drooping with an appropriate little-boy innocence. Heedless of his stiffness and the residual soreness of his butt, she flipped him over and ran her hands roughly over his rounded buns, then rudely parted them and examined his butt hole a moment from close range. Releasing him without comment, she turned to Jake, straightening his legs and flipping him on his back to examine his front first, just as she had with Sam. Jake's penis had remained hard, and she frowned at it. Like a snake striking, her hand had his penis in an iron grip in an instant. "Satan has you, boy!" she intoned. "Satan has possessed this insignificant little body part, turning what should be boyish innocence into wanton lust. This must stop! You must learn to control your lusts, or you will not be saved, and you will burn in Hell for all eternity! And this part of you will burn most brightly!" She squeezed his penis painfully, and Jake bit his lip to keep from crying out. "You. Must. Con. Trol. Your. Self!" she intoned, yanking his penis so hard with each syllable that she lifted his butt clear of the bed each time. Pain shot out of the base of his penis, and Jake cried out with each yank. Releasing him, she smiled with satisfaction as her penile victim began shrinking immediately, trying to hide from her wrath.

She glanced back at Sam's crotch, and nodded as she saw that his penis had shrunk to a frightened button. "Much better," she said. "Now, you two may rise and go make water in the toilet, or sit down and do your business if you need to. You may touch yourselves to make water and to wipe if necessary, but not for any other reason. Then you will come back to these beds and sleep, and you will remain in these beds until morning, when someone will come for you and take you to the next step of the escalator. You will not rise from these beds the rest of the night. If you need to make water again, you will hold it, and you will continue holding it until the people who come for you tell you different. You will not talk from this point until you are told to talk again. You are beastly little animals, and you shall be treated like animals, and animals do not talk. Any violation of my orders by either of you will result in you both receiving the paddling of your lives just as you are now, in front of the morning assembly, and thus starting the next step of the escalator with bottoms so sore you won't be able to move without discomfort. Given the severity of the next step of the escalator, I do not recommend that. And although I do not condone children seeing children of the opposite sex naked, a state God deplores, I will not hesitate to paddle you naked in front of the assembly in the utter humiliation of your nakedness if that's what you require. Now, nod your heads if you understand my instructions."

Both boys nodded solemnly, looking fearfully at her. "Good," she said. She nodded toward the toilet. "Go do your business, then get into bed. And remember, God is always watching, and God will tell me if you misbehave." She turned and glided away without disturbing her sister nun, snoring loudly in her chair. A door slammed.

"Guess God wasn't looking when you took a poop," Sam giggled.

"Shhhhh," Jake hissed. "She may not be gone." They stood, quivering like excited dogs starting a hunt, but no sound was heard but Sister Grace's snoring. Finally,Jake and Sam started toward the toilet, grateful that Sister Mary Catherine was gone, and thus would not see that they actually peed very little, having just gone without authorization minutes before that. Still, mindful of the fact that they didn't know when they'd be able to go again, both boys worked hard at squeezing a few little dribbles of pee out. It felt good to hold his penis again, even if just to pee, and Jake longed with all his heart to stroke himself to hardness and then to that wonderful feeling he'd just learned. But he resisted the urge, shook himself the requisite three times, and reluctantly released his yearning organ. He turned to go, but stopped when Sam didn't follow. Sam started to speak, then closed his mouth. He pointed at the toilet seat and lowered it, then pointed at Jake and the bed. Jake nodded and walked away, as his buddy sat down on the toilet to poop. He ignored the sounds of Sam's efforts, the sloppy splashing that suggested his friend's digestive system was still not over the enemas they'd received. His mind was elsewhere, anyway - it was on tomorrow, only hours away, now. What would the next step on the escalator be? Sister Mary Catherine had just acknowledged it would be worse than everything before - worse than the humiliation and pain of public spanking, worse than being diapered and pooping their pants and being hosed off in public, worse than endless enemas, each more painful than the last, worse, even, then being shot in the balls and asshole with BBs. Unfortunately for him, he could think of lots of things that were worse. But, he had a feeling that however bad the things he could picture might be, when tomorrow came, what was happening to them would be worse than any of the things he was imagining now. And, unfortunately for both Sam and Jake, tomorrow would prove he was right.