The Orphanage Boys Chapter 27
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 27: Twenty-seventh floor: Washing Supplies

They found them eventually, the diapers they'd been wearing during their "cleansing." They were easy to tell—the diapers for the big boys were a lot larger than the baby and toddler diapers. The nun had washed the loose material off the cloth in the yard, but it still was stained an embarrassing brown, and it reeked like their diarrhea had when they'd lost control. Jake felt like throwing up as he tackled one diaper, and Sam the other. He didn't know if he had his diaper or Sam's. It shouldn't matter—poop was poop, yet he found himself hoping it was his pooped diaper he was handling, and not Sam's. He worked and worked the cloth on the washboard, the stains only reluctantly lightening ans he worked the cloth between his now waterlogged and sore fingers. He wondered if his hands would ever be rid of the smell, and he fought the urge to retch. It seemed to take forever to get the cloth white again, and he gratefully set the big diaper aside in the rinse pile and reached for the stick glad to be able to return to some nice, small, barely stained little-boy diapers. To his surprise, he fished out another big boy diaper, this one showing no signs of stains at all.

"Bed wetter," the girl at the next table said, seeing his puzzlement. "They're a breeze - nothing but pee to wash out. And boiling them does most of that already."

Still, it made Jake feel kind of squeamish handing cloth that had been on some other big kid's butt, worse yet was soaked with pee from some other kid's wiener. Yet the underpants weren't any different, were they? Boys dribbled into their underpants all the time at the end of a pee. What was it about diapers that made it creepier?

An ice-cold hand gripped the back of his neck, and he almost wet himself in sudden startlement, which would have been unfortunate given that his penis was tied back and the pee would have squirted backward between his legs, almost certainly wetting the garment of the person who had suddenly gripped him. In fact, given the fact that he was starting to feel the need to pee, anyway, he probably would have soaked that person's ankles. On the other hand, the twine constricting the head of his penis helped, and he controlled himself quickly, although he may have dribbled a drop or to onto his inner thigh. Turning too quickly and thus making the base of his penis twinge and the head of it complain as the harsh twine bit into it, he beheld small, sharp-eyed Sister Magdalene regarding him and Sam.

"What is this rope?" she snapped at Jenny, who was hurrying over. She plucked at the string running down first his and then Sam's back, making their dicks twinge.

"It's for their own protection," Jenny said sweetly. "They were poking out, and we didn't want them to burn themselves or catch themselves on something. And, you know - they're not that young. The other girls..."

"I see," Sister Magdalene said, with a glint in her eye that suggested she saw not just that but everything Jenny the Warden was thinking, all the way to the girl's soul. "Well, perhaps you have a point. Their appendages may be scrawny, but they aren't little boys anymore, at that. We couldn't have them flopping around as they moved, I guess." She plucked both strings again, one with each thumb, and smiled as both boys winced in stereo.

"So, have these two incorrigible delinquents worked steadily since they came? I see most some of the girls are on mid-morning break." The weathered but wiry nun looked at the young girl with penetrating eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," Jenny replied quickly. "I followed your orders to the letter - they've worked quite steadily since we finished bathing them. They were awfully dirty."

"I see," Sister Magdalene said. "And did they show signs of arousal when you washed them? You know how boys show arousal, I presume? Did they appear to enjoy the process excessively?"

Jake and Sam wondered what Jenny would say. Clearly getting a hard dick was not something that they were supposed to do. Both boys' hearts started racing and they looked at the ground guiltily, certain that their arousal and the repeated wonderful feelings were about to be announced to the nun, probably earning them more punishment.

"Well, you know how boys are," Jenny said. "Allergic to soap and water. We about had to tie them down to clean them up."

"Very well," Sister Magdalene said. "IT is well for them that they didn't become aroused. Perhaps they are learning." Jake and Sam started breathing again, both wondering why Jenny hadn't reported their shame. Sister Magdalene let her hand slip down both boys' backs until they rested on the upper surface of Jake's and Sam's bare butts. The boys fought the urge to flinch. "And have these two moved their bowels or emptied their bladders since they've been here?" she added.

"Not that I've seen," Jenny said quickly. "They may have peed while they were in the tub at the start—I hear boys sometimes do that. Disgusting little beasts."

Jake and Sam both flushed a bit, and Sister Magdalene nodded, catching their involuntary admission of guilt. "No more than I would have suspected with these two," she commented. "They are filled with sin through and through, from one end to the other. Thus they seek to balk our holy work in every way. If we are cleansing them, they try to make the water dirty. If we are teaching them, they make every effort not to hear and not to learn. They are filthy, hedonistic heathens, and like most heathens, they need to learn humility. Cleaning up the filth of their peers is certainly a good start." She let go of both boys simultaneously. Jake and Sam quickly moved wrinkled, red hands up to massage their necks, swallowing simultaneously. Jake imagined he could smell his fingers even from that distance. "How long until they're done with the diapers?" Sister Magdalene asked Jenny.

Jenny surveyed the tubs with an expert's eyes. "They have a second tub on the stove to do after this one," she replied. "They're doing the younger boys now, then they have to do the toddlers. We've got another girl doing the baby diapers today. But they've probably got another hour yet, or more, depending on what the toddlers ate yesterday. If it was beets, they could be at it all morning."

Sister Magdalene considered. "It was fried potatoes," she finally said. "But that'll still be too long - you'll have them wetting the floorboards like animals if you don't allow them the call of nature before they're done. Take them to the tree line now and have them relieve themselves. If you have them spread their legs wide, you won't even have to untie them. I'll be back after lunch break." She strode off without looking back.

So it was that Jake and Sam quickly found themselves standing by the trees near the privies with their legs spread as far apart as they could, trying to make their urinary sphincters unclench while girls who'd been lingering around on break gathered in little groups to watch. The girls had made them face the barn, on the grounds that both boys' penises were aiming slightly backwards between their legs. Thus, when Jake finally did manage to release his first little squirt, the liquid shot straight out behind him, looking like it was coming from his butt. But his sphincter slammed shut again. He managed, by concentrating, to force out a second, smaller squirt, but then his sphincter locked up and would not let him finish the last remnants of what he could feel inside him. He was all too aware of all the girls watching him, most with eyes that sparkled with excitement or glared with hatred. Sam, meanwhile, managed to get a gentle little dribble going that went on and on, spattering straight down between his legs to patter on the leaves on the ground between his widely spread legs. The noise of Sam's efforts somehow triggered something in Jake, and he managed another long squirt, then a feeble dribble that drained him. When Sam's efforts finally dribbled to a stop, the surrounding girls broke into applause. Sam, who'd been looking down between his legs where he couldn't even see his penis (which was pulled back out of sight), looked up and blushed quite prettily, the red of his face setting off his hair nicely. Jake's face reddened, too, but his time not in embarrassment—instead, he felt that surge of anger again that they were doing this to Sam, to his buddy Sam, who never hurt anyone, who just wanted to see.... Well, it was not good thinking about it. They were herded back to the barn floor, the warm drops that always clung to a boy's penis until he shook it trickling onto their thighs as they walked back, making them glisten like dew in the mid morning sun. Then it was back to work at the diaper table for both of them, the girls coming off their breaks and getting to work busily at the tubs as well.

It did indeed take the rest of the morning before Jake and Sam finally finished the last of the toddler diapers and hung them up to dry on the line. Jake's and Sam's hands were red and raw from all the scrubbing and the harsh soaps, and both boys had opened blisters on their fingers and the palms of their hands. The girl at the table next to them had showed Jake her calluses, her skin rough and toughened from months of work at the laundry. "You get used to it," she said.

"Even the smell?" Jake asked tentatively.

"No, you never get used to the smell," the girl said. "That's why no one likes to work the mud table. It gets under your fingernails and just lingers there. Teaches you not to eat with your fingers."

Jake sniffed his fingers and felt briefly sick. His fingers smelled like a privy, like poop and pee all mixed together, along with the smell of the strong soap that he'd used. He let his hands fall just to get them farther from his face. In the distance, a hand-held school bell began clanging. "Dinner break!" the girl next to them said. "It usually soup and sandwiches - supper's the biggest meal of the day for us. It's different for the farm workers - dinner is their biggest meal, and supper more like our dinner. See, here come the kitchen girls with the soup pail and the box of sandwiches."

Four girls were indeed approaching, two carrying a huge pot between them, the other two carrying a big cardboard box. They set their burdens on a table at the far end of the barn, and girls began to line up, taking soup bowls from a rack and filling them with a dipper, then picking up a sandwich and going off in pairs and trios to sit on the grass. The day had turned cloudy, the sun now nowhere to be seen. Jake and Sam joined the back of the line, walking stiffly with their penises still pulled back between their legs, self conscious about their nudity even though they'd been bare around these girls for hours. When they got to the table, they found their food already prepared for them by Jenny. "You two only get bread," she said. "Sister Badass' orders. And just broth, no meat or vegetables. No spoon, either - drink from the bowl." She handed them their paltry meal. Jake and Sam carried their bowls and wax-paper wrapped pieces of bread and walked away. Jake considered sitting down and immediately discarded the idea - the twine tied to his dick and running up between his buns to his neck clearly wouldn't allow it bending at the waist, not if he didn't want his dick pulled painfully. He led Sam to the end of the bench where the food was being served and sat his bowl and his wax-wrapped bread on it, then contemplated how to eat them. Remembering the girl's remark, he finally picked up his bowl in both hands and drank warm broth from it. He knew it was supposed to be punishment food, but it tasted absolutely heavenly after a day of pig slops. Sam followed suit, and quickly they'd drained their bowls dry, sucking the remnants greedily with their bowls tipped high. Jake unwrapped the wax paper from the top of the bread and brought it to his lips, grimacing as he caught a whiff of his hands, which he quickly lowered. The bread tasted heavenly, too, and was gone in what seemed like two bites. Jake was still hungry, but there didn't seem to be any more food in the offing so he imitated the girls who were already done and carried his bowl to a pail of soapy water and dropped it in, and the wax paper to a girl who was shaking off the crumbs of each piece and smoothing them into a pile. She looked up as Jake and Sam approached with theirs.

"You guys were working the mud bench, they tell me," she said to them. "We won't want to reuse yours--toss yours in the garbage can." Feeling like lepers, Jake and Sam tossed their wax paper in the can where the girls were throwing remnants of sandwiches and other garbage. The girl who was collecting waxed paper was eyeing their lower bodies. "They shouldn't tie your weenies down like that," she said quietly. "It's mean. I mean, you're just boys - you don't even have any hair yet." Jake nodded in agreement. It was mean, and it was driving him crazy. The twine felt incredibly rough where it encircled the head of his dick, and his buns felt chafed where it passed between them, pressing uncomfortably against the sensitive skin of his butt crack and butt hole. Around his neck, he felt like he was being strangled. He wondered if that's how people felt when they were being hanged, the rough rope tight against their necks just before the horses were driven out from under them like they did on the Saturday Morning Serials at the Bijou. He reached up and tried to adjust the twine on his neck, but it didn't help. He wondered, briefly, how it felt to be sitting on a horse, knowing that in moments you were going to drop toward the ground and have the life choked out of you. He suspected it must be something like it felt bent over the desk with his pants down, waiting for his paddling to start 2 days ago.

The two of them moved back to their bench and waited to see what would happen next. The girls sitting on the grass were chatting merrily to each other, ignoring them. Jake wished he could sit down without fear he would pull his own penis off. He eased one buttock onto the edge of the bench and let it take some of his weight. After a moment, Sam copied him. They sighed simultaneously at the partial rest it gave their tired feet.

"Now what?" Sam said, his voice almost a whisper.

"Now," a voice said loudly from behind them, "You two will come with me for a demonstration of God's justice."

Sam squeaked and leapt off the bench. Jake jumped off the bench as well, but managed not to cry out. Sister Magdalene has standing right there, on the other side of the bench. She hadn't been in sight moments before - how had she gotten there? Did she, like The Shadow, have the power to cloud men's(and boys')minds?

The small nun frowned at their tied genitals. "Won't need these any more," she said. A knife appeared in her hand - a castration knife, Jake realized. In seconds the twine was cut from around their necks and their penises freed. Pins and needles flooded Jake's penis, making him gasp. But the nun had no sympathy. "Step lively," she said. "We must get to the flagpole. You're needed there." She hustled the boys down a path to the left of the one they'd followed over the hill from the hog pens. This one led around the hill and then to the left. Soon, a cluster of buildings came in view around a second hill, with a central green courtyard where a flagpole stood with a flag hanging limply in the still midday air. At first glance, the area appeared empty and still as well, to Jake's relief. He was all too conscious of his bareness from well above the navel downward. His penis was still tied back uncomfortably, and the twine running between his buns felt huge as it chafed his butt hole and butt crack. He certainly didn't want to be seen as he currently was. But as they approached, Jake noted a stirring at the base of the flagpole, a stirring that he realized was a boy sitting there in what looked like a very uncomfortable position, with his back against the pole but his spine curved so that he was sitting on the back of his spine rather than his bottom. As they got closer Jake was able to resolve the details, and see that the boy's hands were tied behind the flagpole and secured tightly there. His legs were drawn back and spread widely, more widely than a boy's legs could go comfortably, and had been staked down on either side of his buttocks, literally staked down, because ropes bound his ankles tightly and were secured to stakes that had been driven into the ground on either sides of his feet.

And then it dawned on Jake, like an ice-cold bucket of water striking him. The boy's crotch was too complicated - hid bottom half was bare, much like their own. Unlike Sam and him, though, this boy's cock wasn't tied back - it was hard and pointing straight out, barely bigger than Jake's own organ when hard, and mushroom-headed as all the boys at the orphanage seemed to be. It pointed out above his bulging sack, a sack bigger than Jake's own. Because he was sitting on his spine, the boy's butt was wide open, his back curved so much that his entire butt faced them as they approached, and his legs were spread so widely that his butt crack was wide open, the pimply, rash covered skin around his butt hole displayed for any passers-by to see. The boy's crotch was completely bald. His balls themselves were red and sore-looking, like his and Sam's had been after the assault with the pig slapper, but even more so. Looking closer, Jake realized that a circle surrounding the boy's butt hole was glistening, too, and so was a strip down the middle of his balls, and then right down his butt crack to where it rested on the ground. The lower part of his butt, the part next to the ground (what would be the highest part of his butt were he standing up, near the top of his butt crack), was dark red and showing purple blotches - bruises, Jake realized. Very deep, painful bruises. The boy's head was down, his hair covering most of his face, and he was trembling and wiggling against his bonds to the degree that he could move, which didn't appear to be much. He appeared to be staring at his genital region, and was making little noises of distress as he contemplated his hard-on.

The boy finally must have heard the sound of their approach, or maybe he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, because he looked up, panic on his face, his bound arms twitching. "Let me go!" he wailed as Sister Magdalene approached. "Untie me! They're on me! You can't do this! I'll run away, and I'll tell on all of you! They'll throw you in jail, see if they don't!"

Recognition jolted Jake and Sam both, as they realized they knew this boy, Jake, especially, quite intimately. A picture formed in his head, of Sister Mary Catherine planting a sturdy work shoe into the cleft of the butt of the boy who was now bound in front of them, a picture of her kick lifting the boy off the ground briefly and then sending him sprawling on his face, his pants wrapping and trapping his ankles as he tried to rush along ahead of the angry nun. Jake remembered the boy piping in the same whiny voice as Sister Mary Catherine herded him back to the orphanage compound to meet with Mother Superior to talk about his conduct, specifically, about sticking his hard, randy, undersized dick into Jake's butt. From the look of Dinky's own butt, she'd kicked his behind all the way there. Knowing how his own butt had felt after punishment, Jake could imagine the throbbing pain Dinky was already feeling down there—it looked like the bruising went all the way to the bone.

But it wasn't his bruises Dinky was complaining about. As they pulled up in front of him, and Dinky continued to beg, Jake realized the cause of his distress. Red insects were climbing his buttocks and swarming across his butt hole — ants, Jake realized. Big, red ants. There were only a few of them so far, but more were visible on the ground, swarming around the base of Dinky's butt preparing to make their own descent.

"Silence!" snapped Sister Magdalene. "You will speak in a civilized fashion in a tone that acknowledges my position over you, or you will not speak at all. If I must, I have a very large bar of soap with which I can block your speech. I would not, if I were you, talk about reporting anyone to the authorities, not if I were a young boy who had engaged in unnatural relations with pigs, not to mention raping other young boys. Incorrigible boys go to reform school, but young rapists go to prison, where they are housed with other rapists who are bigger, stronger, and more determined. All I have to do is make a phone call, and you'll be experiencing what you dished out multiple times a day until you're big enough to fight back, which may be never in your case. In fact, I've a good mind to go ahead and turn you over to the authorities just as you're requesting. The very fact that you are still in that state of arousal demonstrates that you have not reformed."

Jake wasn't exactly sure before what raping was, although he'd know it was bad thing. He'd heard his mother and Sam's talking quietly about friends of theirs being raped just last year, when they thought he and Sam were asleep. From their remarks he'd gathered they did awful stuff to women, and they were thus feared and reviled. Now, though, he put two and two together, concluding that rape involved sticking your wiener into someon's butt. He immediately understood why his mother and Sam's had shown such fear and hatred of such people. Dinky, meanwhile, considered her threat and changed tactics.

Sister Magdalene simply looked at him, a serene expression on her face.

"Please!" Dinky said more urgently. "They're on me! They'll crawl in... they'll crawl in... they'll crawl inside me! Please, let me go! I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!"

Sister Magdalene still didn't answer him, simply regarding him calmly.

"Hey, come on!" Dinky whined, as more ants began the long crawl up his ass crack, and the ones on him already began negotiating the bumps of the pimples surrounding his red, disturbing-looking butt hole. He tried wiggling again, his butthole twitching as he tried to clamp down on it and bar the questing ant from probing the ridged slit of his anus. The red, irritated muscle twitched like the gulping mouth of a carp, but the ants in the vicinity (there were now three of them) hung on tenaciously and continued exploring in what looked like an almost excited fashion, antenna twitching as they darted over one ridge and down the other. Dinky was hunched over, but Jake realized he could not see the ants because his genitals were blocking his view, he could only feel them. Jake wondered what that would be like. A fourth ant bypassed Dinky's anus and continued up, circling the shaft of his hard penis as it reached that obstacle, appearing again on top of the shaft of the boy's projecting organ. Dinky's eyes widened as he saw the large, red insect appear and begin crawling across the top of his penis. He began pulling frantically on his bonds, which did nothing but make his penis sway a bit. The ant appeared unperturbed, and so did the ones that were perched on the boy's butthole, moving ever nearer his tightly pursed anal slit.

"Noooooo! Get it off, get it off!" Dinky squealed, panting at his ineffective efforts to try to escape or dislodge the ants. He leaned over and blew on his penis, which didn't bother the ant one bit. Several more began crawling up his buttocks, following the glistening trail. Jake noted, for the first time, that the tip of the boy's penis was so hard and swollen that his pee slit was open. He suddenly realized that the ant that was nearing the tip of the boy's penis would easily fit in that open slit. Dinky stopped squealing and tried to hunch even farther over his penis. A second later he spit down on himself, trying to knock the ant off the tip of his organ. The spit missed and hit the side of his scrotum instead. One of the ants near his butthole approached the spit excitedly, appeared to grab some, and turned and hurried down Dinky's butt crack to the ground. Meanwhile, several more ants appeared at the base of his butt, climbing upward, antenna wriggling.

Sister Magdalene ignored Dinky's protests and attempts to dislodge the ant. "This boy confessed to having violated your anal orifice, young man," she said, looking at Jake. "At first he tried to argue that the violation had been your idea and you'd begged him to do it, but after some persuasion by Sister Mary Catherine, he confessed that he in fact threatened you and forced himself upon you. He also admitted, after a bit more persuasion, that he has also forced himself on several female pigs since he arrived here. Jake, his eyes glued to Dinky's lewdly exposed genitals, immediately grasped the form that "persuasion" had taken. Dinky's swollen balls were immediately explained, as was his lack of pubic hair. Jake could imagine easily Mary Catherine yanking those hairs out one by one, and then taking her paddle to the boy's exposed balls until he confessed. He shivered involuntarily.

"Now that he has confessed, he is being punished by having the smallest creatures of God's creation return the favor and invade his most private areas. This lesson will last until sundown today." She reached behind Dinky's back, at the base of the flagpole, and drew out a glass mason jar of water, much like the one that had been used to bring Jake and Sam water the day before. "I have more pressing things to do than to supervise the punishment of a sick, perverted little boy. I still have many piglets to castrate today, as soon as lunch break is over. You two, on the other hand, have nothing important to do until after sundown. At that point, you will have your most severe trial yet as you ascend to the next step of the escalator. You can contemplate that and your sins as you supervise this miscreant, a boy of particular depravity. Witness his suffering and learn the folly of such perverted behavior."

"Don't you dare touch him," Sister Magdalene commanded. Jake froze. "That goes for you, too," she said to Sam. "You can, if you wish, wash the ants off of him periodically, if they get too thick - you are both equipped with spigots that would serve that purpose, and I have no objection to him suffering that humiliation if he'd prefer it to having God's creatures punish him."

Sam goggled. "You mean," he said, speaking for the first time. "You mean...use our wieners to pee on him?"

"If you must put it so vulgarly, yes," Sister Magdalene said. "I would prefer that you call those appendages your spigots, and express that action as making water, but either way that's what you're free to do if he requests it. And he probably will. In fact, he'll probably beg you to in a bit. You see, these ants don't just crawl into things, looking for food and moisture. About one out of ten of them..."

"Owwww! Hey!" Dinky squealed suddenly, shock on his face.

"...bites." Sister Magdalene finished. "Quite viciously." Jake looked at Dinky's privates. A small, red dot had appeared on the mushroom head of the boy's penis, where the ant had been moments before. Dinky began yanking more urgently at his bonds, making his penis sway but not dislodging the ant, who was questing over the head of his penis again as if contemplating the pee hole. "In fact, their bites sting a bit," Sister Magdalene added. "The ants excrete an acid that they deposit in the wound when they bite. It stings, then it itches quite extensively." She studied the struggling, panting boy's efforts to dislodge the ant on his penis, which was now moving toward the open hole at the end of his penis. "You might want to use your own fluid to keep them out of the urinary orifice of your scrawny little worm of a spigot," she said helpfully. "Now that we know this is one of their 'soldiers,' it could be rather painful were it to crawl inside your urethra."

The ant curled around the end of Dinky's penis and probed the open hole at the tip. Squealing, Dinky jetted pee straight out, onto the ground in front of him. Jake leaped back to get out of target range. The ant withdrew for a moment back onto the head of the boy's penis, then leaned over the open hole again and resumed its probing. Dinky squealed and began wiggling frantically.

"If I were you, I'd reserve what fluid I had for ants that were actually entering me," Sister Magdalene said primly. "And as for your other orifice, you might also be able to expel invaders from your rectum using muscle contractions and the natural product of that area, if the number of invaders becomes large. Of course, if you were to expel anything in the process, you will be sitting in it for quite some time. Still, it might distract the ants somewhat from entering that area. On the other hand, it would probably attract more ants to the vicinity. I'll leave that decision up to you."

The ant on Dinky's penis backed away from his pee hole and moved back his shaft. Dinky shrieked again as it apparently took another small nip out of his penis, leaving a small, irritated red dot behind, so tiny as to be almost invisible. As Jake watched with interest, another ant reached the other boy's butt hole and began probing the tight anal slit next to the ant that was already probing it. Sister Magdalene went on with her instructions. "You may give him water any time he wants it," she said. "We don't want him getting dehydrated. Even with the sun under clods, it's likely he will get sunburned in those delicate areas even so. Quite badly, I imagine, if the clouds break up. His little worm is going to be quite sore for days, I imagine. But there's really nothing we can do about that, and a good sunburn of his puny spigot should deter him from self-abuse for some time, so that's a plus. You boys will want to sit down over here, behind that retaining wall, so that the sun does not strike your own bare skin too extensively. If he wants you to wash him down with your bodily fluids you can do so if you wish, but you don't have to - that's going to be up to you two. You may not touch him anywhere, nor use tree branches or any other material to brush the ants off of him. If other children approach, they can converse with him, or wash ants off him with their own fluids if they are so inclined, but warn them that they are not to touch him, either, by my orders. His bonds should not loosen, but if they do go to the main farmhouse behind you and tell any girl you see in there, and they'll send for me. The mason jar can be refilled at the pump over there when it gets low, and you two may drink from it as well, but let me be clear on this, it is to be used only for drinking, and not to wash ants off of him. And if he tries to hold water in his mouth and then spray the ants off that way, he is to be denied any water at all for the next hour. By that point he'll be thirsty enough that I'm sure he'll be more than willing to obey my orders. There is a clock right there, on that front wall of the farmhouse, you can use to determine when an hour has passed. You two can tell time, I presume?"

Jake and Sam nodded. "Very well," she said. She looked down at the struggling, panting, red-faced Dinky, who was staring in horror at his penis, where a second ant has ventured out the hard shaft and was brushing antennas with the first one. More ants were circling the boy's twitching anus. As Jake watched, one of the ants on the corrugations of his asshole must have nipped Dinky, because he let out a little squeal and began frantically contracting that orifice again.

Without another word, Sister Magdalene turned and walked away with a short, rapid stride, not at all like the gliding movements of Sister Mary Catherine. Dinky looked up at Sam and Jake. "Are they going inside?" he asked frantically. "It feels like they're going inside my—my butt hole."

Jake leaned over and studied the other boy's asshole. It felt strange to be asked to look at such a private place, a place he'd never seen prior to this on anyone but Sam, and himself in the mirror. "They're two at the edge," he said. "You know, where your...where the...where it closes up. Your - your - you know." He stumbled to a halt, not knowing what to call Dinky's anus. All the words he could think of were forbidden—he could picture God frowning when he even thought them.

"Shit," Dinky muttered. "Maybe I can fart them off." He began contracting abdominal and stomach muscles frantically. Jake and Sam stepped back a couple of steps. A minute passed with nothing happening except Dinky's frantic tensing motions. "Shit," Dinky finally said again. "I can't fart. The one time I need to, I can't fart!"

More ants were climbing the boy's butt now, wandering frantically over the exposed, bare skin, circling pimples, climbing the ridges of this butt hole, and swarming over the corrugations of his ball sack. Jake and Sam waited, Jake contemplating the situation. Would the other boy want him to—to wet on him? This had to be the screwiest place ever. A lifetime of being told not to pee on things, let along people, and now for the second time in as many days he was being told that he was to deliberately pee on someone. This place he and Sam had fetched up had to be the strangest place in the world.

He was distracted as Dinky jetted more pee out of his penis onto the ground in front of him, trying to dislodge the biting ant, which was probing the open hole in his penis again. Once again, the ant wasn't deterred, simply drawing back and hanging onto the boy's bobbing member.

Dinky eyed it, hunched over his penis and looking at the tip of it cross-eyed. "Shit!" he exclaimed, louder this time. "Shit! Fuck! Shitfuck!" The ant moved forward again, exploring the open hole at the end of the boy's member. Jake shivered involuntarily—the slit in the tip of his own penis didn't open like that, even when he was all the way hard. The look of him haunted him with its wrongness.

Dinky concentrated, and another jet of pee shot out his penis. This time the ant was caught unawares, and disappeared, apparently blasted off by Dinky's efforts.

"Got 'em!" Dinky said, almost triumphantly. But his triumph was short-lived. Another ant made it over the corrugations of his sore balls and into his sight, where it began crawling out his penis following the path of the previous ant. A second ant swarmed after it, dodging from side to side on his narrow shaft while the first probed the ridge of his dick's mushroom head. More ants were swarming up the kid's butt now, crawling onto his butt cheeks and thighs and swarming around his butt hole. "OW!" Dinky complained, as a soldier ant apparently took a nip out of the area around his butt hole. His butt hole spasmed, winking at the watching boys. Dinky tried to wiggle frantically, but the ants just kept climbing, dozens of them on the boy now. Jake noticed they tended to stay in the area around the boy's butt crack and butt hole and around his penis, where the skin glistened unnaturally. He realized that the nuns must have smeared something there to attract the ants, something like honey or perhaps some light-colored jelly.

Dinky jerked and struggled, hardly able to move with his hands and feet so tightly bound. "Ow! He complained again. "They're biting! Ow!" He looked up at Jake pleadingly. "Get them off! Get them off! Ow! They're biting! Get them offffff! Owww! Owwww!" Dozens of ants were swarming on the boy's balls and up onto the shaft of his penis now. Jake wondered what it was like to have ants all over your privates like that, and shuddered to himself.

"Come on! Get them off!" Dinky wailed.

"We aren't allowed to touch you," Sam said seriously. "She said all we could do was pee on you."

Jake saw that more tiny spots had appeared around the boy's butt hole, and another one on his penis near the base, apparently left by the second questing ant. Ants were swarming wildly over the boy's privates now. Sam shrugged and edged up to Dinky from the side, being careful not to get in the path of the now swarming ants. His penis was angled outward from his body, so that, when liquid suddenly and without warning erupted from it, at first it splashed the hair above the slumping boy's forehead before Sam could adjust his body and aim the arcing stream at the boy's crotch instead. Pee washed over Dinky's genitals and down his open butt, and the ants flooded away. Sam, with effort, brought his peeing to a stop, the tip of his organ dripping softly onto Dinky's thigh for a few seconds.

"HEY!" Dinky said, looking up in outrage. Sam's pee dripped off his wet hair at the front of his head and down Dinky's forehead. Dinky shook his head like a dog shaking off water, glaring. "I didn't tell you to pee on my head, you dumb little fucker!" he squealed.

Sam stepped back, even though Dinky was bound and couldn't harm him at the moment.

"Sorry," he said. "I couldn't control it. We're not allowed to touch ourselves, so I couldn't aim."

"Great," Dinky said. "Just mother-fucking great! You wait 'til I'm loose again. I'll piss in your mouth, you dumb little mother-fucker! Then I'll fuck you up your butt like I did your queer buddy."

"He washed the ants off you," Jake said, coming to Sam's defense. "You ought to be happy he did that."

Dinky looked down. The ants were gone for the moment, wandering the damp sand in front of the boy in disarray. His penis glistened from Sam's pee. Drops were still trickling down either side of his crotch and off his butt onto the ground. But the ants were gone. "You ought to aim better," Dinky finally muttered.

"Fine, we won't help you next time," Jake said. "Come on, Sam. Let's move over against the wall, so we don't get our bottoms sunburned like the nun said. Or our other stuff." He and Sam moved about 5 feet away to a retaining wall straight across from the boy's spread legs and sat down on the shaded sand. The sand felt funny on his bare butt as he sat down. He wondered if he'd made a butt print in the sand. Sam sat beside him, their legs now out of the sun because they were facing north, and the sun no longer was high in the sky like it was in summer, but lower on the horizon, befitting the autumn day. Indian Summer was in full force, but Jake wondered what it would be like when winter came in the low mountains where they now lived. Dinky stared down at his crotch, still angry about Sam peeing briefly on the front part of his head. The ants seemed bothered or distracted by the wet sand in front of the boy. His dick remained hard, sticking out like a little thick sword in front of him, bobbing slightly as Dinky fidgeted. Jake and Sam sat quietly, Jake contemplating the dull throb of his still sore balls and the fainter throb of his slowly healing butt. The needle track between his legs was much less sore today, and it no longer felt like his butt hole was swollen and bulging like it had been.

"Hey!" Dinky called across to them. "Hey! What if they come back?"

"Tough," Jake muttered. Dinky launched into a tirade of profanity. Sam's and Jake's ears reddened at his words, as he cursed God, the Archangels, Jesus, the 12 apostles, and all the nuns, describing in explicit detail what sexual acts he'd like to perform on them singly and jointly. Eventually he wound down into silence. The ants were still trying to regroup.

Sam was looking at Jake, something clearly on his mind. "How long 'til sunset?" he asked Jake quietly.

"Why?" Jake asked. But even as he asked, he knew. Sunset was when the small nun had promised the next step of the escalator, the one worse than being spanked, or paddled, or publically diapered, or shot with BB's, or given pepper enemas, or even cleaning hog pens naked and then being treated like pigs themselves. He didn't want to think about sunset. Because what could be worse than what they'd already experienced?