The Orphanage Boys Chapter 35
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 35: 35th Floor-Tasty Treats

Afterward, Jake asked himself more than once why he didn't look away, or shut his eyes. He didn't have to watch. No one made him and Sam look, no one was paying any attention to them at all. All the female pairs of eyes in the room were glued on the boy in the center of the stage, the one on all fours with his knees wide apart, straddling the sides of a wooden cat box filled with sand that had been slid under his butt. The boy looked rather pathetic in that position, shuddering slightly at the powerful feelings gripping his gut as the twin load of suppositories, in doses created for larger animals, took control of his rectum. The rash between his clenching buttocks and across his perineum simply made him look more pathetic, and many of the girls grimaced with distaste at the sorry state of his hindquarters. Abdominal muscles clenched involuntarily, relaxing only to clench again. Dinky fought the humiliation of evacuating the contents of his lower bowels uncontrollably in front of the watching girls, but it was a battle he lost quickly, and he needed the relief more than he was worried about the humiliation. Spasms shook him, making him double over, lowering his upper body and jutting his buttocks out more over the cat box, opening his anal cleft wide, his tight anal slit clenching and wriggling as he fought the urges inside him. Then Dinky moaned, shook violently, and the slit surrendered and widened into an "O."

Girls groaned, giggled, or just stared in wide-eyed fascination verging on horror as Dinky pooped into the cat box rather like an oversized, hairless cat would do, a cat with a big, smooth butt and no tail, and a severe, pimply rash. Jake watched the whole process, an image that burned into his memory and would pop up for days afterward, defying his ability to think about something else when it did. The problem was that the whole thing was so graphic. He pooped, Sam pooped, everyone did. But you didn't watch it happen. You sat down on the toilet, you pushed, things plopped in the water, you wiped, maybe you looked at what you'd done afterward and maybe you didn't, but it all was rather distant—it was on the other end of you, and you could wipe and walk away feeling that you weren't part of the whole thing. But seeing it come out of the older boy, that picture he couldn't escape for months afterward, every time he himself was sitting on the toilet, or passed another boy sitting, pants and underpants around his ankles, huddled over himself as he did his business, the image of Dinky's efforts forcing his asshole open, things pushing out, hanging, and then falling, scraping the boy's balls in passing and besmirching them, more appearing, extruding, then falling, more than he would have imagined the boy could have in him, until, finally, the last of it fell and the wrinkled muscle, pink at the edges, squeezed shut several times, the slit now marred with material that hadn't fallen. Every time Jake pooped after that, or saw someone else pooping, or just thought about pooping, he pictured that whole scene from beginning to end, a scene both fascinating and sickening.

Dinky's humiliation hadn't ended there. He was forced to keep his position even when his gut stopped the painful clenching and spasms and he was empty. He was given small pieces of toilet paper and ordered to "wipe yourself," while girls giggled and made disgusting noises. He had to repeat this humiliating action over and over, ordered to make himself spotless or suffer the consequences. His sphincter was an irritated pink by the time he'd wiped himself clean enough to suit the three girls in charge, mainly because they'd forced him to scrub himself hard, Mary commenting to the other girls how boys hardly ever wipe at all, and thus go around with "their dirt on them continuously," something she advised they all think about every time they saw a boy from now on. The rash on his buttocks was bright red and sore-looking by the time he was done.

"I hope you girls all saw how he got it on that coin purse of his between his legs, too," she added. "I wouldn't be surprised if he gets it on his little worm all the time, too. Yet they want us to touch those disgusting things, and let them put them inside us! Think about that if you find yourself weakening, girls. Think about him with his dirt all over his boy parts."

Jake didn't think that was fair. Boys didn't usually poop on all fours, and the poop went straight down, it didn't get on his balls then, only a little bit on his hole itself, sometimes, and he always wiped that off. Well, he thought he did. He at least wiped himself. It was hard to tell if you got it all. But he never got poop on his wiener. Well, except for the time he had diarrhea, and it got all over his crotch and his buns, but that wasn't fair, and his mother chucked him in the shower immediately after that.

Finally, though, Dinky's humiliation was complete, and he was ordered to rise and stand facing the girls on the platform, and Sam and Jake were ordered to join him there. Mary flanked them on one side, and Margaret on the other. Mary quieted the girls, who were still chattering excitedly about what they'd witnessed. "Now what you've seen so far is pretty disgusting," she said. "But boys do more disgusting things."

Jake felt his anxiety rising again now that Dinky was done and the older girl and the other girls in the group had turned their attentions back to him and Sam again. He fidgeted restlessly as he stood facing the girls, their eyes boring into him, appraising his bare genitals once again while he could do nothing to stop them. His penis was dangling, now, the head swollen but the base soft and thinner, a condition he'd never seen before they came to this place, before he'd felt those wonderful feelings that came with contact with his boyish little finger of flesh, feelings that made it harden until it felt like it was going to burst, and then sent unbearable but delicious shivers through him and left him feeling limp and somehow, whole and sated. He'd liked rubbing against Sam's bare crotch with his own, had enjoyed the feeling of Sam's hot, dry skin against his, the feeling of their thin, boyish members bumping and rubbing together. He longed to do it again, yet he was ashamed he'd done it, ashamed that these girls had watched while he did. On the other hand, it was a lot better than what Dennis, the boy everyone called Dinky, had just done. Jake might have died if he'd been forced to do what the older boy had been compelled to do. He wondered what those cold, glistening egg-shaped lozenges felt like when they'd been shoved backwards up Dennis' butt, and couldn't help but shudder.

Nervously, he picked at a scab on his hip with his left hand, working it loose. It was a couple of days old, a scratch he'd gotten playing just before they'd been loaded up and brought here, back when times were good. The scab was loose on two sides, but the center was still tightly attached, proof it really wasn't time for it to be removed. He had determined to stop picking at it when Mary's eyes lit on him. "There!" she shouted triumphantly, a shout that hushed the excited murmuring of girls who were still shocked at having watched a boy, a real, honest to goodness, naked boy their age, actually poop on all fours right in front of them, where they could see everything. Mary was by Jake's side in an instant, grapping his hand and pointing. "See? More evidence of just how disgusting boys are. They're always getting scabs, and then they pick at them—they pick at them until they pick them off! Just like this boy was doing! And do you know what they do when they pick them off?"

About 20 girls solemnly shook their heads. The bulk of the rest looked at her expectantly, with glittering, excited eyes. Then one girl spoke up. "They eat them!" she shouted with glee. "Boys eat scabs! And then they suck the blood where the scab was!"

"Exactly!" Mary said triumphantly. She released Jake's hand. "Go ahead, little boy. Do what you were going to do. Pick that scab the rest of the way off, then eat it."

Jake recoiled. He never ate scabs, never had a desire to. He never had sucked blood out of wounds, either, although he'd seen boys do it. He looked at her pleadingly.

"Now!" Mary snapped. "Or you'll get a turn at the cat box just like Dinky did."

Jake gulped visibly. Slowly, he let his hand move to the scab and feel the edges. He picked at it gently, the center resisting. The scratch it was covering twinged painfully. He paused. The pain was why he'd stopped to start with.

"Hurry up!" Mary ordered. "If that scab isn't in your hand by the time I count to 10, I'll have Margaret go get two suppositories for you. 1....2...3...4..."

Panicked, Jake dug a fingernail into the scab, gasping as a stab of pain when through him. Just as Mary reached "9," he yanked it free, holding the small, crusty object between his thumb and forefinger. Blood began to gently ooze from the reopened wound, which stung all out of proportion from its small size.

"Into the mouth," Mary ordered. Jake hesitated, hoping she'd change her mind. He looked at the little bit of scab between his finger and thumb. It looked awful. A spot of blood dotted the center.

"Now!" Mary ordered. "I'll use 3 suppositories on you rather than 2 if you don't. You'll have cramps like you wouldn't believe."

Jake swallowed hard and put the scab to his mouth. As Mary kept glaring at him, he opened his lips enough to shove it in. His face felt hot as the girls watched him, some smirking, some with open, surprised expressions.

"Now chew," Mary said. "Chew and swallow. Then open your mouth and prove to me you swallowed it."

Jake felt the crusty scab with this tongue and obediently shoved it under his molars, chewing. It felt gummy under his teeth. He worked up some spit and tried to mix it with the sticky scab. He felt like throwing up. Working hard at it, he forced the scab into his throat and swallowed hard. He opened his mouth wide and Mary studied the inside.

"Okay," she said. "Now suck the blood up."

Jake looked down at the side of his bare hip, where the blood had beaded into a drop and threatened to slid down his skin. "I can't reach it," he said plaintively. "I don't bend that way."

Several girls giggled. Mary crossed her arms. "He's right," she finally said, as if reluctantly. Jake relaxed a bit. Mary stabbed a finger at Sam. "You!" she ordered. "Get on your knees and suck the blood off him."

"He's gonna suck on that kid's butt!" one girl shrieked excitedly to several others.

"That's not his butt. The butt's the back part. That's the side part," another girl protested.

"It's still his butt," the first girl insisted. "It's just the side of his butt."

"You're not supposed to say, 'butt,'" another girl said. "It's a bad word."

"You just said it," the first girl accused.

"I just said it to say that you said it," the third girl said. "It's okay to say it then. But it's not okay to say it." Sam was still standing, his eyes fixed on the big drop of blood beaded on Jake's hip, right over the hip bone. He looked like he might be sick.

"Now!" Mary ordered. "On your knees, and clean him up! Or you'll be the one going number 2 in a box like a cat!"

Sam dropped to his knees, his little penis swaying as he moved. He put his hand tentatively on Jake's thigh, near his knee, and leaned in, looking cross-eyed at the gradually growing drop of blood. Shutting his eyes, he stuck his tongue out and licked the blood spot. It felt hot and coppery against his tongue.

"I said suck it, not lick it," Mary snapped. "Put your mouth on it and clean it up good."

Sam started, then put his lips on the small wounded, sucking noisily. His mouth tickled, and Jake would have laughed if the wound didn't twinge at the same time, and if he wasn't buck naked in front of girls who might order him to do something worse in a minute. And if didn't feel bad for Sam for what he was being forced to do. Sam sucked busily for a long series of seconds. Finally, Mary pulled his head back.

"That's enough," she ordered. Sam reached up and wiped his lips. The watching girls were making various noises of disgust, or giggling uncontrollably. "See how disgusting they are?" she asked. "They're regular little blood suckers."

"That's nothing," a medium height, somewhat fat girl with pimples all over her face suddenly chimed in. "My little brother sticks his finger up his bottom. All the way. Into the dirty place. When he's in the shower." All the girls turned to look at her. She looked familiar to Jake, but he couldn't place why for a moment.

"And just how would you know, Faith Hannegan! Don't be telling us that he lets you watch him while he's in the shower!" another girl chided. It suddenly dawned on Jake why the fat girl looked familiar. She looked like the fat boy who slept next to him and Sam. Jimmy Hannegan, that was his name. The boy with the penis so short that it looked like a button most of the time nestled in the fatty pad of his crotch, overshadowed by a droopy stomach. Jake had noticed him the first morning after he and Sam came to this place, when Jimmy had lined up with the urinal naked to pee beside an equally naked Jake prior to the morning shower, and had to stretch his penis until it was thin to aim it, while Jake merely peed through his drooping organ without having to hold it. Jimmy didn't have as many pimples as this girl, though. Jake wondered, briefly, if he was doomed to break out like his sister in the future.

"'Course not," Faith said firmly. "Not now. But he did when he was little, and I gave him his baths. If you didn't watch him, he was sneaking a finger up there. He said it felt good. And it made his little boy thing stick up when it did. I'd look over and his thing would be hard, and sure enough, he'd have a finger up his dirty place. I told Ma, and she spanked him for it. So he stopped doing it in front of me. But he still does it. Just before we came here, before Da got sick and Ma ran off, I thought Ma was in the shower? And I had to go? So I slipped in to the bathroom, and there he was in the shower, eyes shut, one hand shoving his finger up in the dirty place, the other yanking on his thing at the same time. Man was he mad! He yelled at me to get out, and he used dirty words when he did, and Da took him to the woodshed and beat his bottom with a shingle! Didn't even let him dry off. He was mad at me for a week!"

"Dis-gusting!" a girl next to her said, her voice showing more delight than disgust. "Why would he do that? Put his finger there?"

"Because he's a boy," Mary snapped. "And boys are disgusting. I bet these three stick fingers up their bottom holes all the time. Boys do stuff like that, don't you, boys?"

Jake, who'd never even considered sticking a finger up his butt, looked at her in amazement. But Dinky, thoroughly cowed now after his pooping display in front of the girls, looked ashamed. Jake looked at Sam, who was blushing. Mary examined each of their faces in turn. "These two have, at least," she said, pointing to Sam and Dinky. "Just look at their faces! You have, haven't you?" she said, her face penetrating Sam. "You've stuck your finger where the sun don't shine."

Sam blushed harder.

"Answer me!" Mary said in a commanding voice that brooked no disagreement.

"Once," Sam said softly. "I did it once."

"Why?" One of the little girls asked. "Doesn't it hurt?"

Sam shook his head, blushing even harder and not meeting her eyes. He looked at his feet, pursing his lips.

"Answer her!" Mary ordered.

"No," Sam said softly. "It doesn't hurt. Not if you're careful."

"And just how does one come up with the idea of sticking his finger up his bottom?" Mary said. "Enlighten us. Pray, tell. What inspires you to do such disgusting things?"

"I...I was wiping," Sam said, his voice miserable, but finding himself unable to resist answering this girl who'd acquired a God-like power over him. "And my finger got off the toilet paper, and then it kind of slipped in...and it felt kinda—I pushed it in the rest of the way, just to see."

"It felt good, didn't it?" Mary said flatly. "Admit it, it felt good." Sam's blushing silence was assent enough. "See, girls," Mary said, looking at the rest of them. Boys are so disgusting that they think sticking their fingers in their own bottom holes feels good! That's something no girl would ever think of." Several girls suddenly began contemplating their feet, two blushing sharply, their reactions revealing the lie in Mary's last pronouncement. Mary, though, didn't notice, warming to her topic as she was. "Only boys think of disgusting stuff like that—that's all they ever think of, putting things of theirs into whatever hole they can find." She suddenly glared at Dinky, who was looking at her now with a wounded, innocent air. "Oh, don't try to look so innocent," she snapped at him. "We all know you stuck your worm in the bottom of one of these little guys. No way you never thought of sticking your own finger in your bottom to get off. Bet you love it. Bet you do it every chance you get. You do, don't you?"

"No," Dinky said, his tone unconvincing. "Never." He paused. "Really," he added, his voice squeaking as he said it.

"Oh, yeah? What do you suppose I'd smell if I smelled your finger?" Mary challenged.

"I don't do that, really," Dinky insisted. He held out his right index finger. "Go ahead, smell."

"Don't be stupid," Mary said. "I already know that you got washed before you came over here."

"I don't do that. It would hurt," Dinky insisted. He tried to look innocent.

Mary cocked her head. "Really?" she said. "Then you won't mind proving it, will you."

"What?" Dinky asked suspiciously. "Whadduya mean?"

"A challenge for all three of you," she said. "Ruth, get that lotion bottle over here. We'll grease up each of your fingers, and you'll stick them where the sun don't shine. If you don't get hard, you weren't lying, and you get out of the next little demonstration I'm planning. But if you get hard, hard enough to hang this towel on your thing, you have to participate."

"Participate? In doing what?" Dinky asked.

"You'll know when you need to know," Mary said. Ruth was approaching with the lotion bottle, which she handed to Mary. As the watching girls craned their necks to see, she firmly took each boy's right hands and dipped their index fingers in the lotion jar, coating them liberally. "Bend over, backs to us and legs apart, so your cheeks spread. Hurry up."

The three boys complied, Sam immediately, Jake with an uncontrolled sigh, and Dinky with just a bit of hesitancy. Doing what the older girl said had started becoming automatic to Jake and Sam, as if they were being told what to do by a teacher, or their absent mothers. Once again, three tight slits surrounded by wrinkled muscle were winking at the watching girls between smooth, muscular buns. "Bend over farther, so the girls can all see," Mary prodded. The boys bent marginally farther, rounded globes spreading as they did. "Now slide those fingers in," Mary ordered. Sam didn't hesitate. His slimy, lotion coated finger moved around behind him, brushed by his right buttock, pressed a bit low, on the bottom edge of his anus, then homed in until the tip was depressing the tight slit. Inhaling and holding his breath, he wormed the tip into the slit, then slowly, smoothly, slid his finger all the way into his tightly gripping anus. Jake was slower, and fumbled at bit, but his greased finger found his own anal ring (now pink rather than the light brown it had been his whole life, thanks to Sister Mary Catherine and her bleaching agent), and, more hesitantly, he slid his finger in. He had more difficulty in doing so than Sam, though. His anus protested and he felt twinges of pain as his multiply violated orifice tightened at being invaded, still reacting to being invaded by Dennis not that many hours before, and tender for that experience. Dinky was last, but he finally pressed his own finger to his pink anus, lined it up, and plunged it in. There was a group noise of reaction from the girls to this rather disturbing display, and more than a few disgusted noises blending with excited whispers and giggles.

Mary let them stay in that position a few moments, so her fellow girls could absorb the enormity of what they boys had so compliantly done. Then she spoke up. "All right, boys. Now, keeping your fingers in your bottoms, straighten up and turn around, and we'll see if you were lying about how doing that makes you feel. Any of you who get hard in the next few minutes we'll know was lying. You get hard, and we'll all know it makes you horny."

"What's horny?" a little girl asked innocently.

"When boys want to slobber on your faces and touch you all over, even in your private places, stick their things in you and make babies, they call that 'being horny,'" Mary said. "It means they want to do sex stuff."

"It's a sin," Margaret said firmly. "It's lust."

"Indeed," Mary agreed. "So if any of them are hard, we'll know they're guilty of lust, and we'll make them do the next thing," she added. "Come on, boys," she added. "I said, turn around and face us!"

One by one, the three boys straightened up, having to crouch slightly to keep their fingers in their bums. Jake turned first, and was clearly not aroused, his uncut penis dangling loosely, slightly shrunken over tight balls. Sam turned next, and looked at the floor shame-faced as he did. His penis was already hard, curving toward his sbody, the head emerging from the foreskin and the tip almost touching his stomach. Several girls laughed out loud, some pointing at his arousal, and excited murmuring began among the girls again. All eyes turned to Dinky, who was slowly turning. His penis was already half hard but not pointing straight out yet as he hunched to one side, twisted to keep his finger in his butt as ordered. As they watched his penis lengthened and hardened, until it was pointing slightly above vertical. It was clearly bigger than Sam's now that the girls could compare them side by side. Mary took a small hand towel from Ruth's outstretched arm and hung it on Sam's dick, where it stayed there as if hung on an iron hook. Pulling it off again, she made Sam's penis recoil and slap his belly as Sam blushed in shame at his arousal, then she hung it with great ceremony on Dinky's dick, where it swayed but hung easily. Pulling it loose, having made her point, she turned to Jake, hoping to find him hard. But Jake's anus was burning, and his dick, if anything, was shrinking. Disappointed, Mary turned away.

"Look at these two," she said, addressing the crowd of girls. "Getting all hot and horny from putting things in their bottom holes. They clearly do it all the time, that's why they're so hot for it. That's how disgusting boys are."

She glared at the two offending penises and the one flaccid one. Jake found himself feeling indignation. It wasn't Sam's fault his penis was hard, he wanted to scream at them. They were the ones who made Sam put his finger up his bottom—he hadn't wanted to do it. They'd get hard, too, if they put their fingers up their bottoms. Wait, no, that wasn't right, another part of Jake's brain protested. Girls didn't have wieners to get hard, did they? They were supposedly like the girl pigs, with some sort of open slit down there where boys had wieners. Part of him wondered what that slit really looked like on girls, and his penis twitched. For a moment he feared he was going to start getting hard down there, too, but then his mind flashed back to Dennis pooping in the cat box and he shuddered mentally, his penis shrinking further instead with the image.

"All right, all the girls have seen how disgusting you are," Mary finally commanded after glaring at their penises for a bit longer. "Take your stupid fingers out of your bottoms!"

Sighing with relief, Jake edged his finger carefully from his gripping sphincter, awakening renewed burning in his rectum. Next to him, the other two boys also slowly slid their fingers out, Dennis' finger making a soft popping noise as he withdrew it that caused immediate laughter among the girls. Jake looked down at his finger, fearing it would be coated and disgusting, but all he saw was the cold cream they'd put on it before he'd slid it into himself. Next to him, Sam was holding his finger out from his body, as if afraid it would touch him. Dennis, though, didn't seem to mind that his finger had just been up his butt, and was standing normally with his hands at his sides, but his dick still pointing slightly upward of straight out and hard, throbbing at the tip. He squirmed and his dick waggled, getting laughter from several girls. He grinned at them and squirmed again, playing to the crowd. "Stop that," Mary snapped, glaring at him. "You're not cute and you're not funny. You're just a pathetic little weasel with a baby's boy parts! Get them some tissues, Margaret! They need to clean off the filth they got on themselves!" Margaret quickly dispensed wads of toilet paper off of the roll that had been used by Dennis to wipe himself, and Jake shamefacedly scrubbed his finger free of cold cream. He obediently tossed the toilet paper into a waste basket that Margaret brought around. Next to him, Sam, not thinking, just acting, raised his hand up to his nose after tossing his paper and sniffed, then let it drop to his side.

"Me!" an older girl as tall as her retorted from down below the stage. "I said it. Because this is nothing. Not compared to sucky-sucky."

"Like blood?" a smaller girl asked innocently. "Like the redhead did, sucking blood?"

"No, not blood," the tall girl said, smirking slightly. "Something dirtier. Something you'd never in a million years want to suck."

"You mean like boobies?" the smaller girl inquired. "Like when they're babies?"

"Yeah, they do that," the tall, thin girl said. "But they also suck each other. Down there. On their things. Their worms. Where they pee."

"Yuck!" the smaller girl exclaimed involuntarily. Other girls registered varying levels of distaste and amazement.

"What do you know about it?" an older girl challenged her.

"Don't I have a brother their age?" the tall, thin girl retorted. "Didn't I used to spy on him when he was with his friends and they snuck into the barn? They played this game, the three of them. They called it sucky-sucky. They did it at least once a week. They'd take pennies and flip them. Odd one had to get on his knees and do each of the others. They had all these rules. The loser had to pull down his pants and underpants first, so he was bare down to his knees while he did it. So they could watch his boy thing while he did it, and make sure it stayed soft. 'Cause if it got hard, that meant he was queer for them, and they got to hit him in the balls afterward if he got hard, to teach him not to be queer. They called it a 'penalty.' But it had to be hard enough to stick straight out to count for a penalty. My brother was always cheating, leaning forward, so that his pointed down even when it was hard. But they'd catch him, and yell 'penalty,' and after he was done the kid he was sucking when he got hard got to give him a free shot, right on his stuff. He had to put his hands on his butt and thrust his crotch out while they did it. My brother got hard down there almost every time he lost, so he was always getting a penalty. He'd roll on the floor afterward, grabbing himself, yelling, "My balls! My balls!" It was hilarious."

"Your brother sucked other boys' things?" a girl near her said incredulously.

"Not always," the girl said. "Sometimes they sucked his. He won more than he lost."

"Well, of course," Margaret piped in. "It's simple math. There were two winners for every loser, so he should have won twice as much."

"He sucked that? The thing that sticks out?" another girl piped up. She was pointing at Dinky's dick. "On another boy?"

"When he lost," the tall, thin girl said. "He had to. It was the game. Sucky-sucky."

"But why would they want him to do that?" the girl asked, puzzled. "What if he bit them?"

"Because they're pigs," Mary chimed in. "They'll put anything in their mouths."

"Because it feels good," the tall, thin girl said at the same time. "'Specially when they cum. And they kept their teeth out of the way. Because if the guy they were going felt their teeth in him, it was another penalty."

"It feels good?" the younger girl asked.

"It's how boys make babies," Mary said, taking charge again. "They get their worms hard and force them into you, and then they squirt some goo in you that makes babies. They call squirting their goo 'cumming.' It's kind of like snot. Like when you're sneezing and snot shoots out your nose."

"Yeah, and my brother loved cumming," the tall, thin girl said. "That's why he played the game. Usually he won, and then he got to cum in one of the other boys' mouths. I asked him once how it felt to cum, and he said that nothing felt better, not even eating, or peeing when you had to go bad. Even better than making a big poo when you've been holding it a long time."

"Gross!" several girls spat out at once.

"I don't believe it," one of the middle-sized girls declared loudly. "No boy would ever do that. Not as a game."

"You've already seen that one lick the redhead in the dirty place," Mary retorted. "You've seen 'em pee, and eat a scab, and suck blood. You've seen them stick fingers where the sun don't shine, the dirty place, and get hard from it. What makes you think they don't suck each other's worms, too, every chance they get?"

"They don't like being the one doing the sucking," the tall, thin girl said. "Unless they're queer. If they queer, they like it. I think my brother liked it a little bit—he was always getting the penalty when he did the other boys. And he liked to play, a lot. I don't think he really minded losing that much. As long as they weren't giving him the penalty. "

"I want to see them do it! Make them do it!" one of the middle-sized girls shouted.

"Yeah, make them do it! Make them play Sucky-Sucky!" another girl called.

"Make them play! Make them play!" a group of girls began chanting.

"All right, all right! Everybody quiet down!" Mary ordered. "I'm not making them do anything until I can hear myself think!" Reluctantly, the girls gradually silenced themselves. Margaret looked at Mary with a frown.

"We can't make them do that, can we?" she said. "I'm pretty sure that it's a sin."

"So?" Mary retorted. "They'd be the ones doing it. So they're the ones committing the sin, not us."

"But then they'll go to H-E-double toothpicks," another girl chimed in. Margaret nodded in enthusiastic agreement. "I mean, they'd have to go there, wouldn't they? For sinning? That's got to be a real bad one. Isn't lust one of the seven deadly sins? And using their mouths must be worse. And if we make them sin so they go to the bad place, doesn't that make us bad, too?"

"Not if they confess," Mary said. "As long as they confess to Father McKenzie that they did it. Let him give them penance for it. It'll probably be a big penance. So we'll be doing them a favor, teaching them that sin has a price."

Most of the other girls nodded agreement with this reasonable solution, although Margaret still seemed troubled. One of the middle-sized girls approached the platform. "Here," she said. "I've got three pennies, one for each of them. So they can play." She handed the pennies to Mary. Jake watched the whole proceeding with a sinking feeling. He was pretty sure he understood what they were proposing, and he didn't like it, not one little bit. He remembered Sam in the pig house, both of them smeared with pig shit and reeking, but his own genitals washed clean, Sam getting on his knees and taking Jake's penis in his mouth without protest, and the wonderful feelings Sam's mouth had given him. Could he do that, to both the other boys? What Sam had done? With these girls watching? And having it done to him with the girls watching, that sounded almost as bad. He remembered how he grunted, and how he squeezed his butt without being able to control it. Would he be able to face these girls in the days to come after what they'd seen him do?

Mary handed Jake a penny, which he took obediently, as did the other two boys. All the fight appeared to have gone out of Dennis, and he had a sort of numb look on his face. Sam was like the survivor of a hostage situation, all eager to please his captors. Mary arranged the boys in a big circle. "Now on the count of 3, you throw your pennies in the air and let them land on the ground. Follow them so you know which penny is yours. Odd man out gets on his knees and does the other two."

"Wait a minute," one of the girls said. "What if it's all heads, or all tails? What did your brother and his friends do then?" she asked the older girl who'd introduced the game.

"Oh, yeah. I didn't tell you that part, did I?" the girl said. "If it's all heads, they throw again."

"How about if it's all tails?" a girl asked.

The older girl grinned. "If it's all tails, they all three have to do it. Each one does one of the others. So they all give, and they all receive. I saw my brothers and his friends get all tails once. They were doing it in the barn, and I was hiding in the loft. They each walked out with dick breath that day."

Jake swallowed hard. He didn't want to be the odd man out. But he didn't want Sam to be the odd man out, either. And he certainly didn't want three tails. Although that would be better than being the odd man out, because he'd only have to take one of the other boys in his mouth, not both of them. But he really didn't want to be sucked while the girl watched, either. For the umpteenth time he wondered if he could did of embarrassment. But Mary had already started counting. As she hit "three," he found himself obeying instructions, spinning his coin in the air, Sam and Dennis following moments later. His coin rolled and he followed it, as Sam's and Dennis' landed. "Tails!" Dennis said triumphantly. Jake's coin headed for the side of the platform and plummeted off, bouncing on the concrete floor and rolling along in front of the row of girls.

"His is tails, too!" A second girl shouted, looking at Sam's coin. Jake felt a dark spot open inside him. He was going to have to suck some boy's thing either way. If his was tails, they'd all have to suck, and be sucked. Then again, maybe he'd get to suck Sam, which wouldn't be so bad. But that meant Sam would have to suck Dennis, and he'd feel bad for Sam. On the other hand, if his was heads, he'd be the odd man out, and he'd be the only boy doing any sucking. Sam would be spared, but Jake would have to do Dennis for sure, a prospect that he considered with dread. Even thought he'd been thoroughly washed, since, Jake was all too aware that Dinky's dick had been up his butt, all the way up as far as it would go. The idea of putting that in his mouth was nauseating. He decided he'd better hope for tails, and maybe the chance to escape contact with Dinky. His coin rolled to a stop and fell over, settling down 15 feet away from him, and he ran after it. Girls also raced over to where it had stopped. A small girl got there first and looked down, then looked up with shining eyes. "I knew it!" she shouted. "It's..."