The Orphanage Boys Chapter 23

The Orphanage Boys Chapter 23
by Chadlad

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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 23: Twenty-third floor: Cutlery

Jake and Sam spent some more time just settled on their haunches in the sun, taking care to keep their hands on the ground in case someone suddenly poked a head over the fence. The sows settled down in the sun as well, flopping on their sides. The half-grown piglets jostled for space at their rows of nipples, sometimes squealing as they were pushed off and, in turn, pushed off one of their brood mates. They watched various pigs pee and poop with morbid fascination, being unused to such things as city kids who seldom even saw dogs doing their business.

"Jake?" Sam finally whispered as softly as he could so as not to be overheard. "How come some of them pee out of their stomachs, and some out of their bottoms?"

"I think some of them are boys, and some of them are girls," Jake whispered back. "That's why they're different."

"Oh," Sam said. He watched the piglets awhile longer. "Which is which?" he finally said.

"I think the ones that pee out of their bottoms are girls, and the one who pee out of their tummies are boys," Jake whispered. "See, they're like us."

"Like use?" Sam said. "But they don't have any weenies."

"They do, kinda," Jake said. "They got little bumps down there, on their tummies. They just don't stick out much."

"I still don't think they look much like us," Sam whispered.

"I wasn't talking so much about their tummies, I was talking about in back," Jake said. "See, under where they go poop? They got little round bumps. Kind of like us. The ones that pee out of their bottoms don't have bumps like that - they have a kind of a slit there instead. A slit we don't have."

"Yeah," Sam mused. "I see. Do you think those lumps are like the ones we have in our, um, bags?" he asked.

"They look the same to me," Jake whispered back. "See, they're kind of oval, just like on us."

"But they're not in a bag," Sam said. "They're just kind of under the skin."

"Yeah, but they're the same shape and size. And they're in about the same place when we're on all fours like we are now."

"I wonder why they don't have weenies sticking out like we do." Sam said.

"Ours don't always stick out. Maybe they shrink up small, like ours do sometimes. Except maybe they're small all the time. And they're on their bellies instead of farther back," Jake speculated.

"Maybe," Sam said. He studied the pigs awhile longer, watching a pig to one side arch her back and pee out of that rear slit. The slit seemed huge to him, far bigger than the tiny slit on his and Jake's weenies. He puzzled about that, wondering why the slit was so big.

"Jake?" Sam whispered. "Do you think girls have slits like that under their poop holes, like the pigs do? Instead of what we have?"

Jake was taken aback by the question. He'd been focusing on the way the boy pigs were like and not like him and Sam. The similarity of the girl pigs to human girls hadn't occurred to him. Still, it stood to reason that there might be a correspondence. Did real girls have such a slit between their legs, under their poop holes? A slit they made pee with, like the girl pigs? And if they did, why was the slit so much bigger than the ones on their weenies?

There were voices in the distance, male voices, which quickly became closer. The gate to the pen screeched open, and a large boy sidled through, carrying a heavy wooden gate. He shuffled in and set the gate down, another boy following him with a second gate. Behind him, came four more boys, three of them as big as the first two, one a full head smaller and less-mature looking. Unlike the other five, this one had no trace of five-o-clock shadow above his lip, and his cheeks were smooth and boyish. He closed the gate.

"Well, look what we have here," one of the boys leaning on a gate said. "A couple of little boy pigs! Not little boars, boy pigs!" He laughed, and the other boys laughed with him. It was a mean laugh, the kind that set your hackles up and a chill down a spine. Jake and Sam looked up at them from the ground.

"You fellows enjoy your night with the sows? Maybe got yourself some pig pussy?" one of the other larger boys asked. The group laughed again. "Dinky here loves the pig pussy, don't you, Dinky." He slapped the smaller boy on the back. The smaller boy grimaced but said nothing. "Got caught with his dick out in the pen right after he got dumped here," the boy added.

"I was just takin' a whiz," the smaller boy muttered resentfully. "Can't you lay off?"

"Yeah, right," the big, mean boy rejoined. "Taking a whiz with a stiffy. Taking a whiz right into a sow's pussy." The other boys guffawed. The boy they called Dinky balled his fists as if he was going to punch the bigger boy. The boy looked pointedly at the first. "One word to Sister Badass, that's all it would take," he said warningly. The smaller boy slowly unballed his fist and let it drop to his side. The older boy nodded, his dominance point made. One of the boys leaned down and ran a hand along Jake's underside. Reaching Jake's crotch, he found Jake's grimy, dangling penis and gave it a quick painful yank. Jake backed up hastily, running into the fence where he was forced to stop. Sam scrambled back with him.

"His dick's even smaller than yours, Dinky," the boy who had rudely yanked Jake's penis said, making the other boys laugh. The smallest boy reddened, the color spreading quickly across his freckled cheeks and up to his ears. "They probably did the boars instead -- you want it tight when you've got a small one. That was your mistake. You should have known the boars have already reamed the sows out too big for guys like you."

"Come on, guys," one of the other boys said. "Leave the little guys alone. Let's get set up. Sister Bad Ass will be here any second, and you know how she is if we aren't ready."

Jake licked his lips. "What's going on?" he ventured to ask.

"Shut up," the big, mean boy said. "Sister Bad Ass said you're not supposed to talk." He reached to his belt and unloosed a pig slapper identical to the ones the girls had. Casually and callously, he took a stride toward Jake, bringing the flat canvas rectangle crashing down on the side of Jake's left buttock. Jake yelped and cringed away, trying to crawl through the gate. "Next one's on your baby balls," the boy said casually. "So no more talking - piggies don't talk."

Jake and Sam cowered by the fence, Jake blinking back tears, the side of his buttock smarting horribly. They watched the boys herd all the sows to the opposite side of the pen, many of the piglets following, but some staying on their side. The boys with the gates sat them down and leaned against them, their blue jeans and red checked flannel shirts visible through the slats in the gate. They lined the gates up so that they partitioned the pen neatly into two parts. The sows were driven into the pig house. Two of the boys were on Jake and Sam's side, the short one and one of the tall ones. They began picking up piglets by the hind legs and glancing at them, setting some over the fence, shoving others over by Sam and Jake. On the other side, the two boys there began doing the same thing, picking up pigs one at a by the hind legs, time, looking down at them, then setting some of the pigs over the gates on Jake and Sam's side, and shoving others toward the door into the pig house, where they bounded in and joined their mothers. In moments, whatever sorting process was being done was finished. The boys shut the door to the pig house and picked up their gates, backing out of the pen, leaving Jake and Sam and the pigs they'd selected in the outside pen. They moved to the next pig house in line, where they could be seen repeating the process. Once they were occupied, Sam sidled up to Jake, eying the vivid red splotch the slapper had left on the outer edge of his left buttock.

"Does it hurt much?" he whispered as quietly as he could directly into Jake's ear.

"Some," Jake whispered back. In truth, it was throbbing dully, but not as bad as the last spanking he'd gotten. "What do you suppose they're doing?" he whispered back to Sam. "Why did they put some with the mommies and leave some with us?"

"You got me," Sam said. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see." More boys were working pens across the way, following the two lines of pig houses from their end down to the far end, where the girl who was being made to be a pig was reputed to be. Jake wondered if the boys would give her a hard time. The boys finished with the house next to theirs and moved on, as did the boys across the way. He and Sam sunned themselves with the little pigs and listened for the better part of an hour as the boys moved from pen to pen, sometimes shouting for someone to "catch that one before he gets in with the sows," and other times appearing to rank on each other with varying degrees of good-naturedness (the remarks made to Dinky appearing to be more cutting than the ones made to the rest of the crew).

Jake was listening to see if they would do something different when they got to the end pen, where the girl was supposed to be, but nothing about that procedure appeared different. After awhile, the boys came back, now without the gates, and leaned against the fence of their pen in various postures of repose, still chatting amiably or nastily to each other, depending upon their moods. The boys who'd worked the other pens came to join them.

"She still there?" one of the approaching boys asked.

"Sissy?" the dominant boy in the first group said. "Naw. Sister Badass must have taken her out before we got there. Probably didn't want us seeing her sweet puss and going mad with Satanic lust."

"Yeah, like any of us could even get it up for that toothless skank," the biggest boy in the other group said.

"'Cept for Dinky," the first boy said. "We all know you'd do anything with a cunt."

"If he can get that little thing up," the other boy, who seemed to be the leader of the other group said, holding his fingers out a couple of inches apart. Jake realized the boy was suggesting that Dinky's penis was even smaller than his and Sam's. That boy looked up, his eyes daggers of black.

"Better watch your back," he said, his voice shaking with fury. "I just mightstick it up your ass some day, Hamilton," he added. "Or maybe I'll just stick a knife up there instead."

The other boys burst into mocking laughter, looking at the smaller boy with his chin thrust out defiantly. After a moment, he looked away, at the ground. Jake felt a coldness inside himself, seeing the steaming hatred in the boy's eyes. At that moment, he was pretty sure that, if the possibility arouse, the leader might very well awaken suddenly to find a knife buried to the hilt in his butthole someday. Or he might wake up to something worse.

"Cheese it, guys," one of the other boys hissed. "Her comes Sister Badass! And she's got old Sister Fatass with her!"

In a few moments Jake and Sam understood what they meant. Sister Magdalene, her hair in a simple veil like before, her mole like a giant beetle on her cheek, stepped into the pen like a farmer, chore boots on her feet and a heavy canvas apron covering most of her habit in front. She carried a full metal bucket in one hand, with rags and liquid sloshing in it. In her other, she had a clean, empty bucket. Behind her, Sister Mary Catherine glided in, seemingly unaffected by the messy bottom of the pen. They shut the door behind them.

"Ready, gentlemen?" Sister Magdalene asked pleasantly. The boys all nodded. "Dennis? Robert? You're on iodine duty. You bigger boys do the holding and shifting." One of the big boys reached over and through a latch. The door of the pig house was split, Jake saw, and the top swung open, leaving the bottom still shut.

"Ready," he said. The two smaller boys, including Dinky, who apparently was more formally known as Dennis, pulled rags out of the bucket and began wringing them out, brown water splashing, apparently the iodine solution the nun had referred to. Each of the three remaining big boys reached down and grasped a piglet by their feet, this time each taking care to turn the pigs so that they had the pig's left hind leg in their right hands, and the right hind leg in their lefts. Unlike before, they didn't move the pigs anywhere, instead hefting the pig's upper bodies between their legs, then they closed their legs on the pig's sides, immobilizing the struggling animals. The boys with the rags wiped the pigs' bottoms quickly, leaving a brown tinge behind on the tough white hides of the pigs surrounding their butt holes and the bulges of their gonads. As Sister Mary Catherine watched with arms crossed, her face serene, and Sam and Jake watched from below with wide eyes, Sister Magdalene stepped to the first boy, drawing an odd-looking object with a curved blade out of her habit pocket. The pig's bottom was projecting out of the boy's crotch now. With swift, sure strokes, she made two cuts in the pig's tough skin, using what was revealed to be a curved knife, cuts that gaped immediately though there was surprisingly little blood. The oval lumps that had been below the skin popped through, ivory ovals about an inch and a half long that glistened wet and shiny in the sun. Gripping one with her free hand, she pulled it out of the slit she'd made, a slimy tube following it out of the pig's body like a smooth worm. She yanked swiftly and the tube stretched thin and then broke off somewhere inside the pig, and she dropped the kidney-shaped object, still trailing the tube and with a mass of gloppy stuff on one side marring its perfect shape, and dropped it in the bucket. The pig squealed, and in moments the second ovoid joined the first. Sister Magdalene turned to another boy and his pig, and the first boy handed his, one leg at a time, to the boy by the door, who hefted it over and dropped it in the pig house. It stopped squealing immediately as it dropped out of sight.

Jake watched Sister Magdalene attend to the next pig, his eyes widening in horror, or something worse than horror. Because he'd thought he'd been horrified before, but he'd been mistaken. No, this was horror. It made being tied to a platform and realizing someone was going to aim at your bare butthole with a BB gun seem like nothing. It made having your butt blistered with a paddle a walk in the park. Because he knew what she was doing, with some sort of primal understanding that went back to his ancestry. She was cutting their balls off, and tossing them casually in a bucket, ignoring their squeals of protest. He could smell the blood, now, and he cringed against the fence. Many of the piglets peed in protest, but the boys in their rubber boots didn't seem to care. They just kept selecting piglet after piglet, while the small ovoids, so much in size and shape like what Jake had felt himself many times in his own scrotum and seen swaying or pulled tight into the crotches of the other boys over the last few days, mounded into a pile in the bucket.

"So, I suppose it's mountain oysters tonight, Sister?" one of the boys said pleasantly to the nun, who was pulling still another cord taut until it broke.

"Waste not, want not," the nun replied as the cord parted and she tossed the organ into the waiting pail. "The little ones look forward to our oyster feasts."

"That's 'cause they don't know where they come from," another boy said. Jake was fighting the urge to throw up. Beside him, Sam was staring, wide eyed and white-faced.

"It's just as well," Sister Magdalene said, making two more swift incisions. "That none of the young ones know what they're eating most of the time. "They're quite picky enough as it is."

"Yeah, but we know where they come from, and we eat 'em," one of the big boys said as he fished up another pig by its rear legs.

"Not me," Dinky muttered by the door.

"You should," one of the other boys said. "They'll put hair on your chest."

"It's hair in other places you need," the boy next to him said. "And maybe for other things to grow as well."

"Decorum, gentlemen," Sister Magdalene cautioned. "Eddy, I'm afraid you'll need to join me at the flagpole tomorrow morning." She neatly sliced into other piglet's bottom. Jake noticed, unable to stop watching, that sometimes she actually cut into the orbs, making cuts that marred the organs themselves Inside, they weren't solid, but a spongy mass. It didn't seem to matter to her if she cut too deeply or not, and either way the piglets were soon without their organs.

The number of pigs by their feet diminished until the boys were chasing down the last few. Jake and Sam cowered pitifully by the far fence, overwhelmed by the casualness of what they were witnessing. They're cutting their balls right out of them! Jake kept thinking to himself. Cutting them right out! He didn't know what Sam was thinking, but his friend was tight beside him, shivering.

Sister Mary Catherine glided across the pen until she was towering over the two of them. She looked down at Jake's side, nodding with silent approval at the red rectangle that graced Jake's flank. Good, the boy had felt the pig slapper used on the farm already today. He'd know they meant business, now. It was so wise of the Lord to have designed boys so perfectly. God was perfect in all ways, and had created children with the perfect spot for chastisement built right into them. The buttocks were ideally placed for punishment, where they would be conveniently under the hand whether the child was placed across the lap, straddling a chair, over a bench, or was lashed to a whipping platform, or was, like these two little pigs, on all fours like animals. That smooth expanse of muscle was big enough to be a target on even the smallest toddler, yet soft and vulnerable to pain even in almost adult boys.

The fundament was ideal for chastisement in other ways, too. It was located at the other end of the body from the brain, allowing the child to contemplate his sins clearly during the pain of chastisement, much more clearly than he could if rapped on the head or slapped in the face. Blows to the head made the senses reel, making it hard to learn from the pain. But blows to the fundament sharpened rather than dulling the senses. Also the fundament was far enough that hands could fairly easily be restrained and kept from protecting it from attack, and feet also were far enough away that even vigorous kicking would not deter its just chastisement. It was large enough even in the smallest child to allow it to be struck multiple times, many times if necessary, while spreading the pain out and not causing damage that was too severe. It was large enough that the person doing the punishing could chose to concentrate just on the centers of each chubby or muscular orb, or evenly space the blows across each cheek, or focus the pain on just the lower, sit spots, or simply strike the lower center over and over again for the special, writhing heat that such a technique created.

And the buttocks were also the location of the anus, that tight, unsightly ring of wrinkles that opened wide to expel the disgusting wastes of the body. Most normal children were exceedingly modest about that disgusting area, and rightfully so, and thus they were also acutely aware of its proximity to the buttocks during a spanking, and to the way that this normally hidden, private, shameful orifice, a body part they couldn't even see for themselves, was on display during their chastisement, especially if the child was made to bend sharply during punishment, something that Mary Catherine always made sure to do. In fact, the proximity of the anus created a great opportunity to strengthen the lesson being taught, because there were a number of procedures that could be used to emphasize the connection between the buttocks and the anus, procedures that were embarrassing and dirty and shameful and unpleasant. She was very fond of castor oil in conjunction with spankings, because it not only caused uncontrollable evacuation of the bowels, reducing the child to the level of the incontinent toddler, but it caused a most unpleasant feeling both going in and coming out.

Enemas were excellent in that regard, too, because they also caused incontinence, and they emphasized to the child that his body was yours to control and to invade at will. Boys, especially, were discomfited by this, as many feared being raped by other older boys, and such an unholy union, perpetrated by force, was bound to reduce a boy to a submissive slave. Even if she used neither the oil nor the enema tube, there was always the rectal thermometer, inserted under the pretense of making sure the child was healthy enough for his spanking. Failing that, she sometimes would simply part the buttocks of children being spanked bare, on the pretense of making sure they were clean and would not soil her hand during their spankings, but really simply to make sure they understood that their shame, their disgusting elimination orifice, was there and being bared because of their transgressions. That shame would transfer to their buttocks, making the necessity of having them bared for punishment a source of shame, too, and that was all to the good.

And the buttocks were ideally suited for punishment, too, because they were located directly opposite the genitals, those noble creators of life that were so often used for such Satanistic purposes. What a wonder that God has given every man and women joined in the holy covenant of marriage the power to do a Godly thing, and create new life just as God created life! Yet how the children abused those holy organs, seeing them as sources of selfish pleasure and not as the sources of Godly duty that they were. Most of the boys, and even some of the girls, seemed driven to manipulating themselves for pleasure, a nasty, disgusting habit that would send them to perdition and must, by necessity, be nipped in the bud. Children needed to understand, firmly, that these organs were shameful, and existed only to perpetrate life and thus God's glory. Some of the boys even tried to engage in unholy congress with each other, with mouth to genitals or genitals to anus, of all things, and that was especially sinful, taking that glorious tool that God gave males solely to make new life (and eliminate liquid wastes) and putting it into the sewer of some other disgusting boy's anus!

The location of the genitals of both sexes were ideal, though, when a child was bent over for punishment. Then the vulva or the scrotum and penis were visible right there with the other shameful parts of the body, right below the anus in girls, and only a few inches away in boys. The child could associate the shame of punishment with those organs as well, a shame that was heighted because in both sexes they were also used for elimination of wastes. And this convenient location had another purpose, too. If the child was being punished for sexual perversity, the punishment could start at the buttocks but move smoothly down to the offending organs themselves. Girls could be spanked, paddled, or whipped on the tender folds of their genitals, and for sexual perversity or extreme Onanism in girls, paddling the knob of pleasure at the top of the vulva was especially effective.

But boys were far more likely to perpetrate sexual perversity, and God had compensated for that by making their genitals especially vulnerable to punishment. Boys' members projected in a most convenient manner, where they could be painfully yanked or pinched, or, when spanking an especially defiant boy, could be used as a most aptly placed handle to keep the boy still and under control no matter how much his buttocks smarted and burned. And if that still wasn't enough to restrain him, attention could always be given to the holy orbs of reproduction. Even small boys writhed in agony when the holy orbs were struck or squeezed, and bigger boys were incapacitated when this happened. And the holy orbs were encased in a nice, pendulous sack where they could easily be isolated from the body with a strong thumb and forefinger. (And Sister Mary Catherine had very strong thumbs and forefingers, made that ways by years of helping with the milking of goats at the convent from early in her life).

Even if the genitals of a boy were left totally untouched during a spanking, a paddling, or a whipping, the boy knew they were there and vulnerable, so very close to where the hand, the paddle or the switch was landing. He was always aware that it could be targeted on the next blow, or the next or the next, or all the others after that. Over the lap, the little boys kicked and squealed, revealing their shame in the form of anus and scrotum and tiny penis with each kick of agony. With the bigger boys, it was always better to have them stand on the ground, with legs apart, leaning over a desk, so that the genitals and anus were on display and vulnerable throughout. If the whipping or spanking was to be especially severe, a spanking horse could always be used to make sure those shameful body parts were on display. The spanking horse had another positive use as well - it reminded the boy that he was helpless, and that he could be invaded anally or his genitals could be assaulted at will, and such helplessness cowed even the sturdiest, most defiant 17-year-old.

Yes, she was convinced that the proximity of anus and genitals to the area God obviously intended for the purpose of training up a child was all part of God's plan, and thus she had no qualms about stripping a child, especially a boy, naked for such punishments. Both boys and girls needed to associate shame with those body parts, because only then could they become true, devout Catholics.

There was another attraction of using the fundament for chastisement. There were strict limits to how often a boy could be slapped in the face, or knuckled on the head. But the buttocks could be slapped many, many times in succession, allowing pain to build and build and build so more, so that, every time the boy thought he couldn't stand it anymore, he would discover that he could indeed stand more. They might start out their spankings aware of the shame of being seen by their bunkmates or even the opposite sex, and the shame of breaking down and crying in front of them, but as slap after slap descended on unprotected bottoms, their awareness would narrow until it encompassed only those two firm, hot orbs and the mounting agony within them.

Which brought her back to these two. These two misbegotten sons of whores. What would bring a woman to such a fate, giving her holy body to anyone with enough money to buy her virtue? Why would such a destitute woman not join the church, where she could do good works such as guiding children, as she herself had done? It was a far better thing to never have a man defile your holy parts, to never have to spread your legs for their disgusting, heathenish instincts. To lead the pure, virginal life, the life that the original Mary had lived, made pregnant by immaculate conception, conception without sin or the grunting of perverse males!

Males like these. Oh, they were small, now, but they would grow, and become hairy, hulking men. The question was, what sort of men? Good Catholic men, who knew their place in the scheme of things? Or animals, like the ones who had made their whore mothers with child to start with? It was up to her, and what she had to do now was harsh, but necessary. The last of the piglets was dumped over the door. She looked serenely down on Jake and Sam.

"Now do these two," she said.

"Sister?" one of the big boys, not the one who'd picked on Dennis, asked, clearly hesitating at the order.

"Do these two. They're all that are left," Sister Mary Catherine said firmly, here arms crossed in serenity. Beside her, Sister Magdalene nodded at the boy.

As Jake's mind flared in pure terror, the other boy strode to him, looming huge over him in tall rubber boots covered with pig manure and rough jeans. The boy seized first one than the other of Jake's bony ankles and lifted. As Jake kicked and struggled, the boy effortlessly lifted him up until his head was between the boy's boots, his body facing backwards, his butt toward the nuns. Then, as Jake panted and sputtered and twisted his head and scrabbled feebly at the boy's boots, the boy closed his legs powerfully on Jake's head, trapping it between the boots. The boy then released Jake's ankles, one by one, immediately grasping Jake by each thigh, separating the thighs and closing his armpits on Jake's kicking legs, trapping first one and then the other near the knee, leaving Jake kicking ineffectively against the boy's strong back, his legs tiring quickly. Jake was now in a sitting position but inverted, his head down and his butt up and level, like a shelf waiting for something to be placed on it. As Jake flexed his limbs and thrashed, barely able to move, his captor leaned forward a bit, spreading Jake's legs more and opening his butt wide, so that his butt crack stretched wide, his butthole came into view, and his genitals were made accessible, the smallish, pig-cleaned scrotum darker than the skin, pulled into a tight, wrinkled bulge, each testis outlined under the skin, almost exactly like their counterparts on all the previously emasculated pigs. His shrunken, frightened penis pointed straight down at his belly.

Nearby, a squealing Sam was also caught and positioned the same way, his scrotum looking similar but pink rather than brownish, his butt hole flexing and pursing as he struggled ineffectually to escape. The boys with the iodine rags approached, slopping cold liquid on the boys that immediately dyed their light skin brown and removed the remaining dirt from their genital region and the inner cleft of their quivering buttocks, leaving the boys' scrota, the backs of their penises, and their anal clefts a muddy brown.

"I'll cut this one first," Sister Mary Magdalene said calmly, and Jake felt her hand touch the back of his left thigh moments later. Squealing at an impossibly high pitch, he tried to struggle free. Pee dribbled out of his penis and down his front, splashing his lips and face, wetting his chest and the boy's boots, but he was too frightened to care. His depleted bowel nonetheless followed its primal protection urge and tried to evacuate to save him from the predator, resulting in a brown flower blooming from the quivering slit in the rosette and then filling the wrinkles. The boy with the rag attentively reached over and swiped this region, leaving Jake's still twitching butt hole clean once again. Jake's heart was thumping so fast and hard it felt like it was jumping out of his chest. They're going to cut me! They're going to cut my balls off! They're going to cut me! Just like the pigs! They're going to cut me! His brain screamed over and over. His body took on a new strength, and he thrashed feebly, but the boy, used to holding terrified pigs, some of which were larger than these two, simply held him more tightly.

"Oh God! O God!" Jake screamed hoarsely, and near him, a similarly pinned Sam echoed him.

"Mommy!" Sam screamed, his voice high and hoarse. "Oh, Mommy! Mommy! MOMMY!"

Jake felt hot pain slice down one side of his scrotum and then the other. His bowel contracted violently, and his gut found and ejected more watery liquid, enough to dribble down between his buns and ooze down the small of his back. His own piss dribbled from his quivering penis, some drops finding their way into his open mouth, unable to scream because his throat had closed in fear. Oh, God — his balls were being cut out of him!