The Orphanage Boys Chapter 29
by Chadlad

copyright 2010 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 29: Twenty-ninth floor: Sanitary Facilities

"Aww, leave the little kids alone," the oldest boy said.

"Yeah, they might shit themselves, like they did in the hog pen," a second boy sneered.

"You'd shit yourself too if Sister Badass came at your balls with her knife," the other boy retorted. "Remember how you got your nickname, Gimp? 'Cause I do. You shit yourself when you got whipped at the flagpole. Remember that, Gimp? Remember? You filled your undies with shit, then you ran so funny with your undies full of shit when she let you go that we started calling you gimp, remember? Remember, Gimp? Remember walking like a duck with your pants full of shit? And remember who helped you afterward, who helped you clean your shitty ass that you were too sore to clean yourself. I coulda just let you deal with it yourself! So leave 'em alone—they're not the only ones Sister Badass ever made shit themselves—at least they didn't dirty their pants. Besides, look what's over here."

The boys immediately turned their attention toward the flagpole. "Hey!" another, tenor voiced boy spoke up. "It's Dinky! And he's naked, just like them!"

"He's more naked than them, dipshit," the first boy said. "They got shirts on, at least." The boys approached Dennis and made a circle around him, totally ignoring Jake and Sam.

"Hey, he's got ants on him. All over! They're even on his dick!" another boy contributed.

"What's with your asshole, Dinky?" a fourth boy added. "Don't you ever wipe yourself or anything? You've got, like, diaper rash down there!"

"He's got little red spots on his dinky dick," the second boy added. "I think the ants are biting him there. They're biting around his asshole, too."

"They're biting everywhere!" Dinky wailed. "Get them OFF!"

The boys looked at each other. "We could brush you off, I suppose," the tallest, oldest boy said. "But why should we? If Sister Badass tied you here, she must want the ants to get you."

"Get them off! GET THEM OFF!" Dinky wailed. "Come on! What'd I ever do to you?"

"Nothing I can prove," the oldest boy said, looking thoughtful. "Lots that I suspect. No one ever got dog turds in their shoes 'til you showed up, you know. And the fact that someone slashed all my pairs of underwear across the crotch after I put you on report for pissing by the barn door instead of going to the privy might have just been a coincidence. The seam where they got sewn back together chafes me half the time, now. 'Course, if I had tiny balls like yours I suppose it wouldn't bother me."

"Brush them off me! They're biting! Have a heart!" Dinky pleaded.

One of the shorter boys' eyes gleamed. "How bad to you want them off?" he asked. "You want me to do you a favor, you got to promise a favor back to me."

"You want my penny book?" Dennis asked, looking up at him. "You can have it! It's a good one—it's got The Shadow in it!"

"No one wants your crappy penny book," the boy said dismissively.

"Not that one," Dinky said, looking up craftily. "I got another one. It's got naked girls in it, with their tits hanging out and everything. You can even see one of their cunts!"

"Really?" a middle-sized, tow-headed boy piped up. "Real pictures?"

"They're kind of cartoons," Dinky admitted. "But they got big ones, and their naked. I'll let you guys have it! Just get them off!"

"And just where is this penny book of yours?" the oldest boy said.

"It's in the 3rd hog pen," Dinky blurted. "Right above the door. You reach in behind the board across the door from one side, where there's a hole. I keep it there so no one can find it."

The older boy considered. "Naw, we're not interested," he finally said.

"I'm interested," the tow-head retorted, glaring at the older boy.

"You get caught with something like that, who knows what would happen. You'd probably spend all day with your balls in Sister Badass' vise," the older boy said. "Bet she'd give it four cranks, too."

"You ain't never had your balls in her vise," the second oldest boy put in. "It ain't fun at all. I got two cranks, once, for an hour. My balls hurt for a week."

"Yeah, and I got two cranks for 2 hours," the oldest boy retorted. Just after I moved up here from the squirt dorms. All I did was get a stiffy when Sissy brushed by me, and Sister Badass said I was brushing up against her in a 'lewd manner.' 'Lewd manner,' she says. Like Sissy doesn't feel up every boy every chance she gets."

"I hate the vise," the boy in the glasses said.

Jake tried to puzzle this all out. What was a vise, and what did they mean by "two cranks" and "four cranks." Whatever it was, it hurt your balls and it sounded bad.

"No shit, Sherlock," the oldest boy said. "We all hate the vise. 'Cept maybe Dinky here. He hasn't been in the vice yet, have you, Dinky?"

"Have so!" Dinky retorted. "And I got three cranks, not just two like you wimps!"

"Oh?" the older boy said skeptically. "And when was this?"

"This morning," Dinky said, almost proudly. "And I took three cranks!"

The boy squatted and stared at Dinky's balls. "You do look a bit red and swollen down there," he admitted. "Your balls aren't nearly as small as they usually are." He looked up at Dinky, his face thoughtful. "So that raises a question," he said, looking across at the other boy as he continued squatting in front of him. "What did you do? What'd you do to get your balls in her vise, and why did she give you three cranks? It wasn't for punishment, or you'd still be straddling her vise getting your balls crushed. This has to be your punishment. So she had to be crushing your balls for the other reason she does it—to get you to confess to something. So what'd you do? What did it take three cranks to get you to confess to? You better not have fingered us for anything, Dinky, or I swear you'll be sorry you were ever born." Jake couldn't see the boy's face because his back was to Jake, but he sounded threatening.

The bigger boy continued to glare at Dinky. "You better be telling the truth," he said. He fumbled in his pocket at the side of his pants, finally extracting a pocket knife. Jake looked across at it with envy as the boy flipped open the longest blade and began cleaning his fingernails with it. "You better not have fingered any of us for anything," he said again, working his way down his fingernails. "'Cause a kid like you might meet up with an accident," he added, pointing at Dinky with the knife for emphasis. "You know, he might catch his dick on a splintered board in the privy, get it cut bad. Or maybe he'll catch his balls in the springs of his cot while he's playing with himself in bed, maybe rip one of them off. You never know what might happen to a snitch." He slowly, deliberately lowered the point of the knife until it was resting gently on the tip of Dinky's hard, bobbing penis, pinning it in place. Dinky froze, looking anxiously down at the knife point dimpling the skin of his penis.

"It wasn't you guys, I swear!" Dinky squealed. "It was me! I told on me! That I...that I did what she thought I did! What Mary Fatass said I did! I wasn't going to tell her, but she kept turning the handle, and I told! But it wasn't you guys, just me!" The older boy pushed a bit harder with the knife, making Dinky's dick dip and the dimple at the end grow in size.

"And just what did you confess you did, Dinky?" he asked "That you're a sow fucker? She finally caught you?" Dinky stared at his threatened penis, his eyes bright with fear, but he didn't reply. The boy flicked his hand and Dinky flinched, but he was merely withdrawing the blade from the erect penis. Slowly, deliberately, he moved the point down to press against one of Dinky's projecting balls, putting enough pressure to dimple the wrinkled skin of the tight scrotum but not to cut it.

"It wasn't a pig!" Dinky shrieked. "Just a kid! The brown-headed one! I just did him in the ass, that's all! Not the pigs! Just a stupid squirt." He looked at the other boy earnestly. "Besides, he wanted it," he added. "He asked me to!"

"I doubt it," the boy said, but he stood up. Dennis relaxed visibly, sagging against his bonds. The older boy wheeled and stared at the two boys cowering over their genitals by the wall.

"That true?" he said, pointing the knife at Jake from across the distance between them. "You wanted him to fuck you in the ass?"

Jake gulped in fear. "No," he squeaked, barely able to get his voice out. "He made me! He said he'd hurt me."

"That's what I thought," the older boy said. He turned back to Dennis, glaring. "I got a little brother in the squirt dorms," he snarled. "Would you fuck him in the butt, too? Tell him you'd hurt him if he didn't give it to you?" He pointed with his knife at the bound boy's small genitals. "Tell me one reason I shouldn't cut that off right now."

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Dinky squealed. He tried to hunch over his genitals but was yanked short by his bounds. He quivered impotently for a moment. Pee jetted from his erect penis out at an angle, making one of the boy's jump back as it landed by his boot.

One of the other boys put a hand on the leader's knife arm. "Don't cut him," he said. "That other kid isn't your little brother."

"He could have been," the leader said. But he put the knife away. Dinky sagged again.

"We should all do it to him," the middle-sized boy suggested. "Once they let him loose and he's back in the bunkhouse. We should take turns with him, see how he likes getting it up his butt. We can go from smallest dick to largest, so it'll hurt worse and worse as we go." He looked almost eager.

The leader's face hardened and he snapped his knife shut, quickly sliding it back into his pants. He looked around nervously, then lowered his voice, barely speaking above a low growl. "Don't even joke about that. You want all our balls in Sister Badass' vise?" The boys around him looked at the ground, more subdued. Dennis spoke up in the silence, glaring up at them.

"Forget about that! Just brush 'em off me! Use your hands!" he implored. One of the other boys shrugged and reached toward Dennis, but the older boy stopped him.

"This doesn't smell right," he said. He turned to Jake and Sam, still cowering by the wall, hunching over their genitals. "How come you haven't brushed him off?" he asked Jake point-blank. "You mad about what he did to you or something?"

Jake swallowed. "We can't," he said softly. The other boys turned to look at him as well. "Sister Bad... Sister said we can't touch him. We can't brush him with a tree branch or anything. I don't think you're supposed to do it, either. Sister Bad... the short nun... she said not to touch him. And tell other people not to touch him, or else."

A middle-sized boy glared at him. "You can't tell us what to do, piglet," he snarled. "Maybe I should rip your baby balls off and stuff them down your throat." He took a step toward the cowering boys. Had he not just emptied his bladder on Dennis, Jake would have wet himself at that moment. As it was, a couple of residual drops escaped him, wetting the insides of his thighs here he had his penis trapped out of sight. The tallest boy put out a hand, restraining the shorter one.

"Leave the little kid alone," he ordered sharply. "I like him. He's got balls for such a little guy. And you heard with Dinky did to him. He's suffered enough—no little kid should have that done to him. So leave him alone. Unless you want me to kick your balls all the way up through your throat."

"Hey, come on," the middle-sized boy said, his voice going up in pitch. "I'm just funnin' them."

"Wait a minute. How come he's all wet?" the fifth boy asked, the one who hadn't spoken yet. He wore glasses, big clumsy things that looked too large for his face. They gave him a brainy look. He leaned closer to Dennis. "And you smell like piss." He turned slowly to the boys across the way. "Did you guys piss on him?"

"He asked us to," Sam piped up when Jake didn't answer. "That's all we're allowed to do, wash them off him by peeing on him," Sam said. "Sister Badass said," he added earnestly.

"But that's what you all call her.." Sam began, but the boy was already turned back to Dinky and was talking, cutting Sam off.

"Man, you little boys can't aim worth shit," he opined. "They're still all over him."

"We ran out of pee," Sam said honestly. "And we can't aim—we aren't allowed to touch ourselves. Down there. Sister Bad.. Sister said we'd be punished if we did."

"Huh," the biggest boy said. "Everyone knows what it means when they don't let you touch yourselves even to piss. Caught you jerking off, didn't they? Surprised old Sister Mary Catherine didn't put you in a cock box. She loves those cock boxes. Four-eyes spent about a year in one when we were in the squirt dorms." He cocked a thumb at the boy in glasses, who reddened slightly. Then he looked down at Dennis, towering over the bound boy. He squatted suddenly in front of the still frantically wiggling boy, studying the ants swarming in every increasing numbers over his crotch, his butt hole, and his bobbing, still rock-hard penis. "Is that true, Dinky?" he said, looking directly into the other boy's face. "You have to ask them to piss on you to get the ants off? Sister Badass is in fine form today!"

Dinky wouldn't meet his eyes. He continued to struggle, trying to shake ants from his body. His anus, Jake noticed suddenly, was twitching, the boy apparently trying to squeeze it to dislodge the ants, or maybe pinch them between his butt cheeks. But his legs were splayed too far apart for such a maneuver to be possible. Dinky stopped after a few moments, and looked up, flushed, panting, and clearly miserable. "Screw Sister Badass," he suddenly shouted. "Just brush them off me—she'll never know!"

The boy crouching in front of him shook his head. "No can do," he said. "She always knows. She knows everything. She's like God, all seeing and all knowing. Don't know how she does it. These little shits will tell her, if nothing else. She'll make them, even if she has to put their balls in that famous vise of hers to make them talk. And I doubt if she'd have to go that far—they'd spill their guts if she gave them a look. So forget it - we aren't breaking her orders. Besides, it's past lunchtime and we're hungry." He stood up. "Hard work, cutting pigs. Come on, boys," he said. "Let's leave the stupid little boy-fucker to his ants. Serves him right—maybe they'll crawl up his asshole and build a nest there." He turned his back on Dennis, and the other boys turned to follow him.

The older boy stopped, the other boys stopping with him. "I already told you, we're not touching you, not if Sister Badass said not to. And certainly not if you're butt-fucking little boys."

"I know...Ow! They're biting again! I know you can't touch me! But do the other thing! Get them off!" Dinky squealed. "Owwww! It hurts!"

The older boy put his hands on his hips and regarded the boy staked to the ground, his privates displayed lewdly to the world. Ants were swarming all over there now, preferring that area and what had been smeared there to the rest of his body. "So you're saying you want us to piss on you?" the boy finally said.

"GET THEM OFF!" Dennis wailed.

"Ask us nicely," the older boy said, still standing with his hands planted on his hips. "Ask us nicely to piss on you."

"PISS ON ME!" Dennis squealed.

"Say please," the boy goaded.

"PLEASE PISS ON ME!" Dennis screamed.

"Say, 'I rape little boys in the ass and I deserve to be pissed on,'" the boy added.

Dinky glared, but then shuddered as more ants bit him. "I rape little boys in the butt and I need to be pissed on!" he squealed.

The leader looked around. "Close enough, I guess," he said. "And I don't see anyone watching. You heard what Dinky said, boys," he added. "He admits he's scum and he wants us to piss on him. You're in luck, Dinky. We haven't gone all morning, not with Sister Badass around watching us. Make a circle, boys. We'll start at the top and hose him down. But watch where you aim. And anyone who pisses on me will get his balls handed to him. You little guys keep watch for us—whistle if you see anyone coming."

"NOT THE FACE!" Dinky screamed as a circle of boys closed in around him. "NOT IN THE FACE! NOT MY HEAD! NOT IN THE FACE!" There was a flurry of activity at the boys' crotches that Sam and Jake couldn't really see because the boys were more or less shielding each other now, having closed in around Dinky's front. His protests were cut off abruptly in an outraged sputter, a sputter that sounded wet. He continued protesting through apparently tightly closed lips, however. Jake could hear loud spattering, the kind of noise boys make peeing on the hard ground, or the kind of noise they'd probably make peeing on bare flesh.

"Hey, watch it! That's my boot!" one boy protested.

"Sorry," another replied. "But you already got pig piss on it anyway—my piss is cleaner." Dinky was protesting loudly through apparently tightly closed lips. Jake wondered what it felt like to have 5 boys peeing on you at once, their body heat washing your face and running down your body. It seemed to go on a long time, making Jake marvel at the capacities of these big boys. Then guys were stepping back one at a time, already tucked away and finished. Jake got a glimpse of one last, dangling, huge-seeming penis being shaken before it was shoveled back into a fly, then the boys were headed to the house, laughing and jostling with each other.

"Bye, Dinky," the oldest one called as they left. "Hope you enjoyed your nice, hot shower. Don't be fucking any more little boys, or next time we'll shit on you instead." Jake looked across at the now soaked boy. He was drenched and glistening from head to toe, his hair plastered to his head, his body dripping. He was already starting to shiver in the cool air, as the wetness on him began drying. But he didn't appear to have any ants on him any more - they'd been momentarily defeated and had apparently pulled back to regroup. A residual puddle soaked into the sand as Jake watched and disappeared. He could smell the reek of the other boy from where he huddled against the wall—there was something about the older boy's pee that was stronger-smelling that that of the boys in his dorm—ranker, somehow. Dennis' head was hanging, and he was breathing funny. It took Jake a minute to realize that his nemesis, this much older boy, was doing something very juvenile—he was crying, big, wracking sobs that were shaking his whole body.

Sympathy washed over Jake, and he got up, walking over to the pole. Something behind it caught his eye, and he remembered the mason jar of water. He retrieved it, opened the lid, took a gulp of the cool water himself, then squatted by Dennis, nudging the boy's face with the jar. Dennis, crying loudly, turned his head away. Patiently, Jake nudged him again. Dennis finally turned his head back and opened his mouth, letting Jake pour some water into it. He swallowed, sniffed noisily, and nodded his head back at the jar. Jake took the hint and helped him take a larger drink. Up close, the other boy smelled like a urinal that hadn't been cleaned for a month. Snot was running along the boy's lip and Jake curled his own lips in distaste, hoping none of it was getting into the jar that the three of them had to share. Dennis sniffed again. "Stings," he muttered. "The bites. The piss makes them sting." He looked away again, then back. "More water," he said, his voice thick with repressed crying. "And try to spill some of it on me. Spill a lot on me. She said you can't pour it on me, be she can't punish you for being clumsy little shits."

Jake straightened up. "No," he said.

"What did you say?" Dennis glowered up at him, his eyes puffy from crying but his face twisted into a sneer.

Jake took a step back but then stopped and stood his ground. "I said 'no,'" he announced. He felt ridiculous standing in front of the older boy with his lower half naked and his penis retracted like a pointed little button in the cold over tightly pursed balls, the latter just in front of the boy's face. But he stood his ground. "I don't want to," he continued. "You're mean to us. You call us names, and you say you're going to do bad stuff to us. Why should we do anything else for you? If the ants want to eat you, maybe we should just let them." He walked around Dinky, giving him a wide berth even though he was tied, and handed the jar to Sam. "Here, have a drink," he said to Sam. "I felt sorry for him, but I don't anymore."

Sam stood up, appearing less self-conscious with his bottom half naked in the open than Jake was feeling. His penis, rather than being shriveled like Jake's, was at half mast, and that meant it was pointing almost accusingly at the boy being punished, who was staring at Jake in what looked like surprise.

"Hey come on," he called across to the boys as Sam took a deep drink. "I didn't mean nothing by calling you little shits. That's just what we call you guys—you're the little shits. Or the squirts. I could call you squirts instead," he added, putting on what he hoped was a winning smile. "Come on," he said, more pleadingly. "Gimme some more water. All us boys gotta stick together." Jake ignored him. "Hey!" Dinky called. "Hey! Don't be so mean to me!"

Jake took the mason jar back from Sam and put the lid on it, then walked toward the bound boy, stopping in front of him. He looked down at the Dinky's pleading face. "Mean to you?" he asked, looking down at the boy. "Mean to you?" He looked at the upturned face I amazement. "You shoved your wiener inside my bottom!" he said softly. "Remember? You said you'd beat our butts if I didn't."

"Yeah, that was funny," Dinky said, giggling. "You guys were so scared!" Jake started to turn away. "But I didn't mean anything by it!" Dinky protested. "Really! I didn't actually hurt you! I even spit on my cock and everything so I wouldn't hurt you!"

"It still hurt," Jake said flatly.

"Aw, come on!" Dinky said. "It doesn't hurt that much!"

Jake turned back. "How would you know?" he asked.

Dinky's face took on a whole different countenance. "I know," he said. "I know." He was quiet for a long moment. "Before I came here, I lived with my Aunt and my cousins," he said softly. He was looking straight out now, not at the other boys at all. "Two girls and a boy. They have a pig farm in Arkansas. I shared a bed with the boy, Seth. He's 16. He taught me stuff. About jerking off. About girls and their cunts. About fucking. How to do it. That's what got me sent here."

Jake stared at the boy, who had suddenly become an entirely different person in appearance. He'd grown smaller, somehow, and more pitiful. "He taught me to do it with the sows," he said more softly. "We'd trap one in the squeeze chute and we'd take turns, first him and then me. It felt so good! Then one morning when I'm buried all the way in, all the sudden my Aunt smacks my butt with her belt! She wore pants just like a man, and she just whipped the belt out and went at me while I was distracted! Come on me from behind. Seth had seen her coming and split, leaving me to take the rap! God, that hurt. I had my pants down, you know, to do it, and my butt was all bare, and I had my pants around my ankles so I tripped and fell, and she just straddled me and beat my butt until it I was bleeding down both cheeks! They she told me to pack my stuff and get my perverted ass out of there before I corrupted her 'sweet Seth!' Like Seth hadn't been the one who taught me! She didn't even let me wash the pig shit off—she heaved my stuff in the road and yelled at me to get out of sight or she'd call the sheriff. I could hardly walk! I was bleeding into my pants for 3 days! I barely made it into town, then they grabbed me and sent me here."

He looked up at Jake, looking him in the eyes for the first time. "So I know how it feels," he said.

Jake's puzzlement must have shown on his face. As near as he could tell, Dennis was saying that he'd learned to stick his wiener in that messy rear slit on female pigs, what he'd called their cunts earlier, from his cousin, and had gotten caught and given a whipping worse than any he and Sam had gotten. But he still didn't see what that had to do with the boy sticking his wiener of Jake's butt. He opened his mouth to ask, then shut it again, trying to make sense out of the boy's story. Sam and drifted up beside him and was looking down at the boy, equally puzzled.

"Don't you get it?" the boy on the ground said softly. "You two are blooming idiots, I swear! You don't know anything about the world, do you? Can't you see? He liked to stick his dick in things! He liked it so much that he did it to sows! You think he stopped at sows?" Jake and Sam still looked puzzled. Dennis sighed, looking down. Then he looked up again, his face serious. "He did it to me. Every night. Every fucking night! Every night, he made me lick his dick to make it wet, then he stuck it in me! And I had to lick it, because if I didn't, he stuck it in me dry, and he only had to do that once for me to learn that it was better to lick it. Even after he'd done the sows. He fucked me in the butt every night! And he had a big one, too—almost as big as my arm, I swear! It felt like I was being ripped apart! He put his hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming every time he did it. I bit his hand once and he didn't even stop, just kept pumping away until he was done. Then he reached between my legs and grabbed my balls, and he squeezed them as hard as he could for, like, five minutes! I can still hear him whispering in my ear. 'Do that again,' he said, 'and I'll rip them off next time.'" A tear leaked from Dinky's right eye and trailed down his face. He shook it off impatiently. "I never bit him again," he said.

Jake stepped back, not wanting to hear more. But Dinky looked up again and held his gaze, and Jake couldn't look away. "He'd lay me flat," he said. "And that was good. After I licked him to get him ready, he'd make me lay face down, flat on the bed. So he didn't get in my butt as far as he would have if he bent me over. Like I had to do you. I'm too short—I wouldn't have even gotten into your hole if I tried to do you flat like that. But his was so big that he could get into me farther than my finger, even with me flat. He liked it better with me flat—said it felt more like he was fucking a girl. Said it made me tighter. I never healed back there the whole time I stayed with them. That's when I got that rash down there. I don't know if it was because he did the pigs and me too that I got it or what, but it's never gone away." He stopped talking a moment. Jake and Sam continued to stare it him, dumbfounded by his confession.

"So I know what it feels like," he finished. "So stop being such a big pussy. My dick's half the size of my cousin's—it couldn't have hurt that bad. And I spit on it a lot—you were real slick back there."

Jake found his voice. "It still hurt," he said.

"Boo hoo," Dinky said, glaring at him. "Sometimes being a boy hurts." He looked toward the empty porch on the house. "Those guys? They like to get you in the balls just for the hell of it. When you're changing, or in the showers, or just standing there holding something. Pow, right in the balls. You're supposed to be tough and not show how it hurts and not flinch, or they get to do it again. Seems like they always do it again on me—they say I flinched even when I didn't, then they sock me again. If you don't let them sock you again, they all get to sock you."

Jake gulped. Somehow he'd always thought no one picked on you once you got to be a big boy. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't be," Dinky said. "Sorry ain't worth squat. Just drink. Drink a lot. Even if you're not going to give any to me, drink a lot yourselves. The ants are gone now, but they'll be back. I'm gonna need your piss if I'm going to get through the afternoon. I'm guessing you still hate me enough to piss on me."

Jake felt nothing but sadness. He carried the mason jar over and held it to the boy's lips. "Drink," he said. "And tell me when you want more."