The Orphanage Boys Chapter 8
by Chadlad

copyright 2009 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
chadlad3@yahoo.com

* * * * *
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.
* * * * *

Chapter 8: Eighth Floor: Medical Supplies and Equipment

Yet, in the end, there was nothing to do but undress, so he and Sam did, finally ending by self-consciously sliding off their worn, gray underwear, adding it to their already untidy piles of clothing, and then climbing carefully onto the table to sit side by side on sore, naked butts, their hands modestly shielding their genitals as soon as they were uncovered, so that the priest caught only a glimpse of pointed little cocks over tight little sacks before they disappeared behind small hands. Father McKenzie smiled to himself as he slipped on a white medical coat and then moved to stand in front of them. There'd be time a'plenty to feast his eyes on their boy apparatus later - all the time in the world in the weeks to come. These two weren't going anywhere. They were "ineligibles" - lads who weren't eligible for adoption due to having living parents that, there was some hope, would be eager to take them back again once they finished their time with the state. Which would be at least 2 years. So let them cling to their adorable modesty for right now - it would make the unveiling so much more interesting later. He loved the way boys writhed uncomfortably under the scrutiny of their naked bodies. It didn't even matter how often they'd been naked in front of this or that person before, the discomfort remained each time the underpants were slipped down and the naked flesh of smooth bum or jutting boy parts were exposed.

Looking professional, he ignored their grasping, concealing hands for a moment and studied first Jake's and then Sam's naked upper bodies with his eyes. He then stepped up to Jake, picked up a stethoscope from the counter, and put the cold disk of it to Jake's chest and listened, enjoying the boy's reaction to the cold steel. He pressed on Jake's back and then chest while listening, then he transferred the stethoscope to Sam's chest and prodded his chest and back as well. He looked into their eyes, their ears, and their noses in turn, then had them open their mouths and stick out their tongues while he looked down their throats.

Finally he stepped back. He looked at Jake and then Sam.
"Stand here by the table, boys," he said. "Facing me." Jake slid off the table keeping his hands clutched over his genitals, wincing as the movement hurt his still sore butt, and Sam followed a moment later. Both boys huddled over their crotches slightly, as boys do when naked, looking cute and vulnerable. Now came the moment the priest loved. "Hands at your sides," Father McKenzie announced, using his lightest, most lilting tones. "No need to cover up, me lads. I have to check all of you anyway. And I've see what you have, both smaller and bigger, before on many other boys," he added after a moment.

He gave the boys a steady, piercing, no-nonsense look, and, after an uncomfortable moment in which no hands moved, he added, "And ye don't want me a tellin' the nuns that you were handling yourselves down there, now do you? They have a real wasp in their wimples about that, as you may already know. You don't want them ordering me to put a chastity box on you, now do we? It makes the making of water or even an innocent itch a very cumbersome thing."

"What's a chastity box?" Jake asked, still covering his genitals, hoping if he delayed long enough the priest would drop his demand that he expose himself. Funny, he'd just been naked with a whole slew of boys in the shower with everything of his exposed, but, somehow, it wasn't so bad being naked when everyone else was naked, too, and they were your age. Being naked in front of this priest was different—when he looked at Jake, it felt like he was looking right into Jake's soul and could see all the nastiness, all the pettiness, all the shamefulness there.

"One of these," the priest said, walking to the counter and bringing back a small, black, oblong box that Jake realized he'd already seen before, in the shower covering the genitals of the boy from the younger kids' room. The priest turned it over so that Jake could see that the back side had a hole in it surrounded by compressible rubber, and that it split down the middle and hinged at the front, so that it could open and close like a clamshell. "This little darlin' is made of Bakelite - it's a new industrial product that's impervious to moisture and hard and durable as well. It fits over your private parts and locks tight, preventing you boys without the willpower to avoid touching yourself and inciting the righteous wrath of God. You can still make water through the holes in the bottom, but little Willie is locked up where he can't be touched. Once the chastity box is locked on, only I or Mary Catherine can remove it."

"I think I saw one in the showers today," Jake said, horrified by the device and needing to talk because of that nervousness. "On one of the younger boys."

"That would be young Samuel," Father McKenzie said, shaking his head. "A hard core case, that one. Can't keep his little hands off himself, despite the perdition that awaits all sinners. He's been wearing his for two weeks now, and has two weeks more to go before he gets another chance to prove he can follow the straight and narrow path. He's also got a switching from Mary Catherine coming to him this Sunday. I believe she's planning on doing it on the platform after Mass, as an object lesson to all of you, boys and girls. And Mary Catherine's switchings are a nightmare to behold, let alone experience. Now ye wouldn't want to be a joining him up there, would you?"

Flushing, Jake let his arms move to his sides, and again Sam, seeing him uncovered, followed, both leaving pointed, early pubertal penises exposed, Sam's swaying slightly, Jake's shrunken and pointing almost straight out. To drive home the fact that no one cared about their nudity, the priest pointedly ignored their genitals for the moment. He wanted to project medical disinterest, of course, and besides, most meals were more enjoyable when you let a little hunger build, denied yourself beforehand, then savored the meal slowly, when you could enjoy it with all senses. So he looked at their tight, boyish abdomens and probed them, felt the boys' rib cage where it joined their vulnerable, unprotected bellies, probed their hip joints, pressing on Jake's and then Sam's hip bones by reaching around their bodies, and asking each boy to move their legs and walk in place as he felt the bones move. He then guided each boy to turn around facing away from him, still not looking at their genitals (although he could see with peripheral vision that they were an enticing sight, uncut, just like the boys from his own land, a rarity in this place). Of course there had been that boy from the hills just a few weeks back, but Mary Catherine had decreed that he should alter that state of affairs himself, and he had, although he'd never done the operation before the medical texts were clear and the result had been very professional and the boy was healing nicely now.

He steered the boys to face away from him by gently pushes on the shoulders, and he followed by saying, "Now stand straight, boys, and stare straight ahead so I can examine your spines." He ran a finger down each one's bony spine, all the way down to where their butt cracks started, doing this multiple times on each boy, feeling the baby-soft skin that he loved so much. He repeated the process on either side of each spine twice more, sending shivers down Jake's and Sam's backs. "Hold still," he admonished each time, knowing they couldn't and would be all the more embarrassed because of it. Reminding boys that they couldn't fully control their bodies was always pleasurable.

Finally, judging them sufficiently unsettled, he moved back to Jake. He let his fingers slide finally down over the jutting orbs of the boy's buttocks, gently feeling Jake's welted butt, examining the larger blisters and squeezing sensitive tissue hard enough to make Jake wince and clench his tight cheeks. "This is primarily Sister Mary Catherine's work," he said conversationally as he continued to stroke Jake's bumpy, bare butt. "I can tell her style anywhere. But the slippering isn't her style - too much angle makes the blows uneven, and she's more careful than that. Your head boy, perhaps?"

Jake nodded. "Flip slippered us," he said. "Because Sister said we had to cry." He bit his lip, wondering why he kept spilling out so much information to this strange man who unsettled him so.

"And correct she was, as usual," the priest said. "Cleansing tears for the soul, that's what they taught us at seminary. Christ wept for us, and we must weep to experience redemption. You two lads will weep much before the day is over, but you will experience Christ's joy, also." He moved his attention to Sam's equally welted butt, squeezing one welt hard enough to make Sam yelp and clench his buns. After a long-seeming period of minute examination, he released Sam's butt as well.

Back behind Jake again, he squatted, the put thumbs an either side of the boy's butt crack, down low, and applied pressure, then pulled his thumbs opposite directions. The boy's butt crack spread easily and the tight slit of his anus appeared, surrounded by wrinkles swollen and red from enemas. Belatedly, the boy tried to clench his butt as his face turned beet red, quite the contrast with his brown hair. "Relax, lad," the priest said. "I have to look at the exits as well as the entrances - they all have things to say about your health. The cleansing of the enemas has left its mark on you, I see - we'll have to see about soothing that irritation." He stared a moment longer at Jake's butt hole. As expected from his sandy brown hair, under the redness of the irritation this one's anus had a soft brownish tinge, normally, that matched the soft brown of the little scrotum that could just be seen clinging between his slightly parted legs. Accents, that's how the priest thought of such coloration. Pleasant accents calling attention to a boy's more pleasant parts, drawing the eye. He studied his target a moment longer, knowing it made the boy increasingly uncomfortable to be scrutinized in such a private place, then released the boy's buns and moved on his knees until he was behind Sam.

Sam flinched as he was touched. "Steady, lad," the priest said. "You boys have had a bad time back here - You must be as irritated as your mate, and I can't soothe your pain if I can't see what needs doing." Sam still tensed as the priest put his thumbs in place and thus provided some resistance to having his lower butt spread, but the priest just pushed harder until a second swollen anus was reviled to him, this one appearing a bit smaller and tighter than his friend's, and bearing no trace of pigmentation. Father McKenzie wasn't surprised - the red-headed boys generally weren't pigmented on either anus or scrotum, and this one was no exception.

Glancing up, he smiled to himself on seeing that this boy was staring straight ahead, his face blushing as only the red-headed boys could blush. Both boys had clearly been virginal in every way when Mary Catherine had attacked their tight little holes—their reaction confirmed this. That was good - Father McKenzie never treated boys who'd experienced anal sex or even many enemas - there was too much chance they'd find his treatment administrations familiar and he didn't want to take that chance. Besides, he dearly lived the tightness of the virginal boys, and the fact that the procedure caused them discomfort and intense embarrassment along with the pleasure. He remembered his own mixture of discomfort and pleasure when he'd been a lad and it'd been his turn, invaded like these boys but unlike them knowing exactly what was happening, and just how he was being dominated. An orphan at 8, he'd had a long, thin, early pubertal penis in his mouth and then up his tight, tender, unsuspecting bum the very first night he'd arrived, as a horny red-headed 12-year-old had taken a crying, lonely little boy into his own bed. The older boy had hugged his tears away, then let his hands slip down into young Paddy McKenzie's worn underpants, finding his tiny nub and coaxing the barely inch and a half long penis into hardness and breathtaking, wonderful sensations. Then the boy had informed him that if he wanted protection from the "bad boys," he'd have to oblige his new buddy's own desires. He'd agreed to cooperate without knowing what he was agreeing to, and without ceremony the older boy had arranged the priest to be on his back and was straddling his small head with his crotch, ordering him to keep his teeth back or he'd "have them knocked out so they wouldn't be a problem." And then a hot, pulsing rubbery rod had invaded his mouth in the darkness of the dorm, and he'd been ordered to suck while the boy humped into him at the same time, and, fearing for his teeth, he'd complied until the boy had stiffened, groaned, and pissed some hot liquid down his throat that he had to swallow or choke from. The boy had stayed into position and a minute later had started humping him again, and he'd sucked as ordered, the boy's tool rapidly hardening once more, and then the boy had climbed off, prodded him to turn over, and climbed onto his back, his now slimy cock prodding and probing between the boy's buns, then his buns being widely, almost painfully parted by a rough hand, while the other hand covered his mouth and stifled his squeal when his anus was penetrated for the first time. It had been over in less than a minute, and the boy had pulled out, satisfied, leaving his rectum burning and his body stirred up inside while he wept silently. But the boy had hugged him again, and held him that night, and his hands had slipped down again to his little cockle and created those wonderful feelings again before the two of them fell asleep, the other boy hugging him for warmth to his front.

And true to his word, the young Paddy McKenzie had been protected - the other boys didn't torment him the way they did many of the younger lads. He didn't suffer from sudden blows to his balls or painful yanks on his little penis in the showers, or violent snaps of a towel that set a bare butt on fire like so many other kids. He learned not to mind a cock in his mouth or up his gradually looser and more accommodating bum, and he learned tricks with his tongue that made sure that he'd have a stronger, older, more formidable boy as his protector at all times, jealously guarding his own personal source of pleasure from the other encroaching lads.

And then he got bigger, and could bestow his favors at his pleasure instead of on demand. And after that, suddenly he was head boy of a dorm of bright eyed, hungry younger boys, and had his pick of the young ones, taking a forlorn red-head with a tight bum and the ability to keep his teeth out of the way as his own bedmate. He'd learned the pleasures of a boy's mouth and a boy's tight ass on his own now more formidable cock. But then, too soon, he'd been packed off to the seminary, and he'd been one the bottom again, literally and figuratively, this time taking in large, adult penises from both ends. He'd missed the small, hairless, clean penises of the boys, and the feel of their tight, soft bums all those years, but he'd paid his dues without complaint, and, in time, he'd moved into a congregation and was able to cultivate and hand-pick altar boys.

Until that day 5 years ago, when Mikey O'Donnell's mother had come in unexpectedly while he had 12-year-old Mikey bent over the desk with his cassock around his armpits and Father McKenzie's cock up Mikey's tight, white, pink-anused little butt. There was no explaining to Mrs. O'Donnell that Mikey had been the initiator of the encounter, that Mikey liked it rough and begged to be banged even harder than Father McKenzie was willing to dare, and to have his little balls mauled while being stroked off afterward. There had been words, and a scene, and he'd packed his bag that afternoon and fled the Isle, crossing to the mainland and then catching a freighter going to America that was pulling out that very night. Somehow, though, the Lord was looking out for him, because he'd found the monastery with its need for a pastor for this affiliate orphanage, so that he was required to make these biweekly pilgrimages to this wonderful place with all these wonderful children to choose from.

It helped that this particular orphanage in the hills had a Mother Superior who had a completely jaundiced view of males, and expected priests to engage in rather coarse interactions with the boys and was all too happy to look the other way as long as he didn't get too obvious about their activities and he kept the boys' rowdiness and desires for interaction with the girls down.

He looked once more at the tight bum hole of the boy in front of him, then released the muscular but sadly welted little buns, approving of the way they snapped back into place, hiding the nether orifice.

"Turn around, lads," he said. Jake turned around, and a moment later Sam did, too. Jake noticed that Sam had become half hard while the priest had been examining his butt. At the same time, he wondered why the priest had looked so much longer at Sam's butt than his. Maybe Sam had more welts? But he wasn't looking at the welts - he was looking inside, at the hole itself, where the poop came out. Was Sam's hole damaged, somehow?

Facing the priest, though, he soon focused again on his nakedness. There was something about the way the priest's eyes glittered in the semi-gloom as he stared, now, at the boys' penises. And why didn't he open the drapes? To protect the boys' privacy? But didn't that window face the fence on the other side, and didn't doctors want lots of light to see? The priest remained on his knees, so that his eyes were just above Jake's genitals. Reaching out, he put his hands on Jake's upper thighs, on either side of the boy's genitals. Slowly, he slid the hands inward, until he was framing the small package on both sides, squeezing, forcing the small, tight ball sack and short little penis up and out, making the balls prominent. Keeping the genitals circled with one hand, he then gently took Jake's penis in his right hand by the pointed foreskin and lifted it, making Jake flinch. "Steady, lad," Father McKenzie said. "I won't hurt you. At least not until time for your penance. And then it won't be me who is doing it." Jake flushed even more redly as the priest examined the underside of his penis slowly and carefully, rolling it between his fingers. Then, holding the short, soft shaft in one hand, he took the other and began slowly retracting the foreskin.

Jake noticed, for the first time, that the priest wasn't wearing gloves. He thought doctors always wore gloves. The head of Jake's penis appeared as the foreskin was drawn back, until it was mostly exposed. The man then rotated Jake's still soft penis, looking at the underside of the tip. "A bit of adhesion here," he said. "That might be causing excessive focus on the genitals. We may have to deal with that before too many days are out, if other methods don't seem to be working." He pulled the foreskin back over Jake's penis, then retracted it again, repeating the process several times. Against Jake's will, his penis began hardening, lengthening immediately.

"Hmm," the priest said. He worked the foreskin of Jake's penis several more times, until the organ was fully erect to its not quite two inches of length. Then Father McKenzie released it and watched it settle until it was pointing straight at him, the single eye poking out of the hood of the foreskin, the fat shaft looking even wider compared to its stubby length.

Reaching into a pocket, the priest pulled out a cloth tape measure and pressed the base against Jake's groin on the top side of his penis, squinting at the numbers on the other end, using a fingertip of the other hand pressed against Jake's pee slit to mark the length. "Not quite 2 inches," he muttered. Then circled the hard shaft with the tape and squinted again. "Quite respectable girth, though," he muttered. He put the tape back, then, surprising Jake, he withdrew his hand from his pocket and suddenly batted the top of the pointed little shaft hard, watching it bounce up, stop short of hitting Jake's stomach, and snap back pointing slightly upward of vertical again.

"Very hard. Definitely precocious," the priest said. He squeezed the boy's organ with his right thumb and forefinger, bearing down until his fingers felt like a vice on Jake's hard organ. "And yet a pubic region as smooth as a toddler's. Why is that, lad?"

"Huh?" Jake asked.

The priest pointed to Jake's crotch. "Not a hair to be seen," he said. "Virginal as a sweet young babe's."

"Oh," Jake said. "I had some hairs there. But Sister Grace pulled them out with pliers."

"Did she now?" the priest said, chuckling, although Jake couldn't see what was funny. "Grace does like to keep her boys sweet and young as long as possible. She's always been a bit of a romantic."

He reached out again and took Jake's penis, squeezing it quite firmly. "You do get very hard," he said. "More evidence of precocious lust." He squeezed Jake harder, until it started to hurt, and then let go again. "Definitely in need of my special treatments," he said. "I'll be having to see you weekly." He moved to the side by walking on his knees until he was in front of Sam's crotch. Jake breathed a little easier as he watched Sam go through the same humiliations he'd just experienced. Sam flushed all the way to his chest as the priest began handling his genitals, circling his longer, curved penis and balls with his fingers as he had Jake's. He shifted to breathing in little gasps when it came his turn to have his foreskin manipulated. Jake noted that Sam's pointed penis hardened even faster than his own had, and pointed upward, as usually, the tip almost touching his belly. The priest moved Sam's foreskin up and down his penis head for longer than he had Jake's. Sam's little butt began making little twitching motions and then finally clenched, and the priest immediately stopped his motions, leaving Sam's penis pointing up at his taut stomach, the tip actually touching as it bobbed. The tape measure came out again, and, to Jake's chagrin, the priest muttered, staring at his tape measure as Sam twitched uncomfortably, "Hmmm, slightly longer than the other boy. But thinner," he added a moment later.

Sam actually gave Jake a superior smile. But it was short lived, as the priest carefully fingered each of his balls. He explored the texture of the skin with his fingers. Then he gently probed the sack, isolating each ball in turn and appearing to note the size and shape of each. "You're quite small down here to be feeling this much lust," he commented. "Much smaller testicles than your partner in crime. There's been hardly any development here at all." He pulled out his tape measure and circled the tight little bag with it, muttering something inaudible as he read the number. He shifted to Jake's crotch, doing the same things to his balls that he'd just done to Sam. The priest's hands felt rough and cold and very strange on Jake's private parts. Jake held his breath when the priest began isolating his balls and palpitating them, but his touch remained gentle as he sized up Jake's growth.

"A stage bigger than your friend's." He pulled out his tape measure again. "Definitely more girth around the scrotum," he concluded. "Significantly more." Now it was Jake's turn to flash Sam a superior smile. "Yet still only at the threshold of puberty, despite your ready leap to arousal. Definitely an unhealthy precocity in both of you. Yes, we'll definitely have to do something about you two," he concluded, slipping his tape back in his pocket.

He turned his attention back to Jake's scrotum, looking up at him as he pressed the small orbs just enough to be vaguely uncomfortable. "I'm singing both of you up for a course of treatments. You two can have the time slots after the lad who was here before you today. Every week, after confession." He put his hands back on Jake again, framing his genitals. "Now take a deep breath, lad, and steady yourself," he said. "Back right up until your bottom is against the side of the table. Yes, that's it. Now don't move, unless you want your bottom to have a dose of a fine old Irish belt. This may hurt a bit, but it's necessary. I have to check you for hernia."

Before Jake could respond, the priest had circled his body just above his jutting butt with one arm, and then using his other hand he was pushing one of Jake's balls up into his groin like he was trying to force it right into Jake's body. Jake yelped and doubled over, but the priest blocked him from bending far, and merely switched to his other ball and repeated the process. Releasing Jake, who was moaning, doubled over his aching balls, the priest did the same thing to a suddenly alarmed Sam before he could consider fleeing. Sam wasn't stoic about it, though, screaming out, "Ow! OW, OWW! OWWWWW!" as it felt like the priest was trying to push his nuts right into his stomach. Father McKenzie finally released him, and he collapsed to his knees beside the still doubled-over Jake, both hands clutching his violated sack with its now aching balls.

Jake slowly straighted up but was still panting, a dull ache in his balls and a sick feeling in his stomach. "No hernia," the priest said, dusting his hands. "Oh, do get up from there, lads. No need to act like babes in a bairn! I'm quite sure your young bollocks are sturdier than that!"

He slapped Jake's unprotected butt almost playfully, but the blow stung on his already tortured butt. "Time to get up on the table - you first, since you're already standing up," he said, motioning to Jake. Sam was panting, moaning, clutching his balls and still on his knees. Jake climbed on the table, trying to ignore the throbbing of his balls and started to lie on his stomach, his heart fluttering. Were they going to get shots now?

The priest smacked his bare butt in a friendly fashion, but Jake was so sore back there that he yelped again. "Sunny side up, lad," he said playfully. "Pretty though the back side of you may be, we need to get you in the stirrups for the internal exam." Jake complied, turning over, and the priest pulled out two metal devices from the cabinets and attached them to the end of the table, then lifted each of Jake's legs one at a time and tied them into cross pieces about a foot above the table with sturdy leather straps. He grasped Jake's shoulders and pushed him down toward the end of the table, until his thighs were next to the metal pieces, then put more leather straps around his thighs, tying them to the leather pieces down very near his butt. This meant that Jake's butt was down at the end of the table, jackknifed under his legs. Jake had thought he'd been embarrassed before, but now he realized that had been nothing - he was now lying with his legs wide apart, his butt bent wide open and his genitals and anus open and on display in front of the priest's eyes. It was worse than when he'd been diapered in this same position - he was more open now, and more unprotected. But at least there were no girls or nuns in the room this time.

The priest suddenly echoed his thoughts. "Could be worse, lad. The room could be full of females. Irritating creatures, sometimes - far better when it's just us lads, isn't it?" He reached to the side and picked up a black cloth object. "Now we put on the hood - it will help you relax and focus your mind, and that's an important part of the treatment." Lifting Jake's head, he slipped the dark hood over it. The hood had a screen at mouth level for breathing, but otherwise was completely opaque, and Jake found himself in darkness.

Sam, mostly recovered from the treatment his balls had gotten, was watching from the side, his eyes as big as saucers as he took in how open and exposed Jake's private areas were, and how odd his friend looked in the black hood. He felt embarrassed for his friend's total exposure of his most private parts, and fearful, too, because he knew, deep inside of him, that whatever Jake was going through, he would be next. The priest took some sort of gel from a jar on the counter and began coating his fingers with it, still, it would have surprised Jake, not putting on any gloves. Jake stiffened, not being able to see any more and more nervous because of it. The priest felt a sense of excitement. The unknown, that was part of the equation - introduce these boys to the unknown, make them fear and yet wonder. And by putting this boy in the mask now, but letting the other boy watch, he would have no trouble later convincing these boys that it was only his finger, or a thumb, or a rubber rod that was administering the treatment. "Now this may feel a bit tight," he said to Jake conversationally. "I'm going to have to palpitate your prostate, and that means I'll have to go up where things usually come out, if you know what I mean. We won't use the rubber medicine rod on you boys today - we'll start that part of the treatment next week. That'll give you time to adjust and get used to it. If you just relax and breathe deeply, it'll feel a little tight, but it won't hurt. I'll just hold onto you to help you stay steady so you don't hurt yourself during the exam, and to keep little John Thomas out of the way.

With that, he took his left hand and grasped Jake's now softened penis in an iron grip, holding it firmly by the root so Jake couldn't move his pelvis at all. Then, slowly, like a snake slipping into a hole in the ground, he slithered his fingers into the tight, still slightly puffy and irritated slit of Jake's anus.

Jake gasped as there was an initial stab of pain, but his anus had been invaded repeated too often lately to resist this new intrusion. He resumed breathing again, but remained tense, trying to adjust to the odd, full feeling in his rectum, and the minor burning feeling the intrusion gave it. He gripped the sides of the table with his hands and tried to relax as Father McKenzie had said. The priest hummed to himself as he continued slithering his fingers in until his fingers were all the way into the boy. Then he began rotating them gently, probing, pushing, pressing inside of the boy as if feeling for something, turning his hand palm up. "That's a good lad," he said to the boy in dulcet tones. "Stay steady, now. I have to evaluate the health of your prostate gland and estimate your maturity there. But it won't hurt, although it may be a wee bit tight." Jake shifted his upper body at the new feelings, not exactly comfortable, but not necessarily uncomfortable, either. He tried not to think of what the priest was doing or where his fingers were, staring eyes wide open into the black of the mask, wondering if Sam was watching his humiliation and what Sam was thinking. Maybe this would end soon. But the firm grip on his penis, so unfamiliar, was hard to ignore. There was a sudden tickle inside him, down under his penis somewhere, and his penis jumped suddenly, swelling from base to tip as if some button that controlled it was being pushed from the inside. The priest squeezed Jake's penis in response to the jump and pressed the same spot again, nodding with satisfaction as the boy clenched his butt cheeks this time. "Found you, you tricky little rascal," he muttered. He looked Jake in the face, shifting the fingers inside Jake slightly so both of them were pressing on that ticklish spot inside the boy, and pushed again, smiling at Jake's sudden butt clench and the swelling of his penis that was accompanying it, as well as the sudden look of unease on Jake's face at the sensations. "Don't worry, this won't hurt, lad," he said conversationally. "In fact, if you're like the several hundred other boys I've examined, you may find the treatments quite pleasurable in time. I'll continue with my fingers this first time while you're adjusting - next time we'll use the medicinal rod."

He gave Jake's penis another firm squeeze and nodded at Jake's butt clench in response and the brief swelling of the penis tip. "You're quite the attractive little man, you know," he said. His left hand left Jake's penis briefly and Jake felt a sudden yearning to be touched again, but it was gone only to dip into a wide-mouthed, flat jar that the priest had sat on the table beside the boy's firm flank. Gathering a generous dollop of some sort of thick lotion that looked like cold cream to the wide-eyed Sam, his hand returned to Jake's penis, and Jake shivered as the lotion was spread across his stiff organ. Then the priest took Jake's penis in his hand with a different grip, circling it with a fist. He squeezed Jake's penis again, then began gently stroking the tips of the fingers that were up Jake's butt rhythmically against something inside the boy, right at the base of his penis, while at the same time gently running his fingers up and down the boy's now throbbingly erect organ. The most wonderful sensations began emanating from inside Jake's rectum and running both back to Jake's spine and out the tip of his penis. His butt began clenching embarrassingly in a regular, steady pattern that he couldn't stop, clenching in time with the priest's penis squeezes and his stroking, and Jake stared into blackness and clenched his fists in wonder as feelings similar to those he'd felt the night before when the sisters were manipulating his penis began enveloping him. He couldn't suppress a little moan of pleasure, and the priest smiled at his masked face. "That's okay, lad," he said. "All you lads vocalize a bit when you receive your treatments - the little guy who just left actually squeals when he's in your position. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Just let it out and it'll be easier."

A picture of the disheveled boy who'd passed them on his way out passed through Jake's mind. The boy hadn't looked like he'd been experiencing the pleasure that Jake was now feeling, and that look put Jake on edge. But he understood the boy's odd walk, if he'd been anally invaded like this as well. Whatever was coming, Jake couldn't have stopped the moans at this point, anyway, and he increased the strength of his butt clenches as well as their duration, his anal muscle squeezing the priest's fingers quite powerfully now with each fevered clench. Ah, yes, Father McKenzie thought approvingly. This one will be a pleasure indeed.

Jake's clenches become more powerful and frequent, until finally, almost bridging, he arched his back clear of the table, his buttocks and the back of his head the only thing in contact with the table, then his butt lifting too, his legs tightening as he pulled against the stirrups, and grunted as he thrust the priest's tightly gripping fist repeatedly, and sensations even more wonderful than the night before coursed through him. He shivered there for a moment, every muscle in his body tensed, then sagged back to the table, his butt actually making a loud smack as it landed.

The priest stopped stroking what now felt like a big lump inside Jake, and let his hand slither out of the boy's rectum, but he kept rhythmically gripping the boy's penis, gradually slowing his squeezes. Finally stopping, he wiped the lotion from the tip of the penis downward with a firm grip, then he pulled the boy's foreskin down as far as it would comfortably go and examined the tip of the boy's penis from close range. "No sign of semen at all," he said to the single, staring eye. "But that makes your behavior even more precocious, and all the more a puzzle. I wonder of the wanton desires of the mother can rub off…"

He stopped, let go of Jake's penis, which was rapidly deflating, and wiped both his hands on a towel by the foot of the table, then used the same towel to wipe the remaining lotion off Jake's now too-sensitive penis. Jake shivered from the contact - it was like being tickled too hard and too long, and wondered if the thing that had upset the other boy was going to happen now. But the priest merely released Jake from the stirrups, gently lifted the mask, and ordered him off the table. Jake slid down onto his feet and walked a couple of bow-legged steps, to stand, uncomfortable, next to Sam. It still felt like the priest's whole hand was inside him, and his rectum burned, but he felt limp and strangely satisfied. Father McKenzie motioned to Sam, who'd been watching the whole procedure, his eyes like saucers. "Your turn, lad," he said.

"I didn't hurt him, lad," Father McKinzie said. "Quite the opposite, I think." He gave Jake a companionable pat on his bare butt. "Tell him, lad. Did it hurt?"

"Nooo…" Jake said, not sure how he felt. His rectum felt stirred up and violated, and the wonderful feelings had been powerful and disconcerting. Should a priest, even a doctor priest, touch a boy there and make him feel like that? It felt sinful, somehow. But Father McKenzie was a priest, and a priest wouldn't do something that was wrong. "Nooo…it didn't hurt," Jake said. "It's okay."

Sam, looking distrustful, started to back away. "Now, none of that, lad," the priest said. "Talk to him, lad," he added to Jake. "If I have to get my belt, it'll dance a fine Irish Jig on both of you."

"It's okay," Jake said again, reaching out with a hand to stop Sam's flight. "Just get up and it'll be over with soon." Father McKenzie nodded as Sam hesitated, then he circled Sam's small waist with an arm and lifted him bodily to the table. Despite Sam's misgivings, in moments his ankles were strapped to the stirrups and his thighs were belted to the rods, the hood slipped over his head, and he was being held by that same iron grip on his longer, more curved penis that Jake had felt on his smaller organ. Having nothing else to do, Sam gripped the sides of the table and tensed as the priest began lubricating his fingers as he had for Jake. Jake looked at his friend curiously - he hadn't seen Sam in a position like this, naked, very much, and the view was fascinating if a bit shocking. The blisters and welts on Sam's butt were prominent and looked painful, and the rest of his butt was a dusky, irritated-looking red, underlain by purple bruises, some in the shape of the end of Flip's slipper. But just inside his now widespread butt crack the color of his skin became a shocking white, contrasting with the pinker color of his wrinkled scrotum and the pink, puffy butt hole lower down, with its tight wrinkles and narrow slit. Jake had caught glimpses of Sam's butt hole before, when they were changing or in the bath, and he knew the puffiness wasn't normal, but was probably a consequence of the enemas and butt plugs of the day before. They'd even compared butt holes in the mirror a year or so back, so he knew his own hole was slightly browner and Sam's was usually a faint pink against his whiter skin.

Sam yelped as the priest put his fingertips against the narrow slit and grabbed his pointed, soft penis at the same time. The priest's fingers shifted and the small slit widened like an opening mouth, and then the fingers were slipping in and the slit was stretching to accommodate them. Jake couldn't take his eyes off the sight of those fingers slithering into his friend. Sam squealed in surprise for a moment and then calmed down, his head twisting in the black mask. He tensed suddenly, then again, then his butt clenched tightly and he moaned more loudly. Nodding in satisfaction, the priest again dipped his left hand into the lotion bottle and coated Sam's now jumping little penis, pulling back the foreskin as he did, and then gently stroking the organ in an almost loving fashion. Jake couldn't take his eyes off the spectacle in front of him - his friend's butt clenching more and more frequently, the little penis curving and hardening to bigger than Jake had ever seen it become, with the head swelling when it could be seen between the priest's fingers. Then Sam was doing a little butt dance on the table, his butt tightening in little quick contractions, and he let out a loud moan and then sagged back on the table. The priest kept his hands moving several more seconds, then the fingers slithered out of Sam's rectum, glistening, the edges of the anal orifice gripping like a sucking mouth as the fingers withdrew, then flowing closed into a tight puffy slit again. The priest spent some time staring at the tip of the other boy's penis at close range, then released it, wiped his hands, wiped off the crotch of a shivering Sam, and began undoing the stirrups again. Sam was lifted and set on wobbly legs, the mask was pulled off, and he looked at Jake with wondering and slightly confused eyes. "Steady him, lad, until he gets his bearings," the priest said. "I have to take a few notes, then we'll get your inoculations over with and discuss your penance. You boys took your treatments reasonably well, and now you'll know what to expect next time."

Next time, Father McKenzie said to himself, settling into his desk. Next time, he'd take these boys one at a time, not together, leaving the other outside. And next time it would be his own manhood that would administer the treatments, not the medicinal rubber rod he'd show them beforehand. These two naïve little lads would never know the difference, and if the spoke to anyone after today, it would be fingers probing them they would report, not something less acceptable. They'd never know their real invader.

These two would remain as naïve as the boy who'd just left. Now there was a wonderfully tight lad. Like these two, he'd started the boy off the first time by using just his finger for treatment, but on his next treatment he'd told the boy he was ready for the larger rubber rod, which he showed the boy, and then the boy had been hooded and never knew that living flesh had been substituted. The boy had found it painful, of course, that first time, and would for at least several more weeks, but he'd still climaxed each time. And more recently, and his moans were getting less pronounced, his tears drying quicker. In a few weeks the father would hit that sweet spot with the boy, where he'd be tight enough to still be enjoyable, but loose enough to mostly enjoy the procedure himself, with only mild discomfort. He was looking forward to that time period.

He walked to his desk, turning to glance at the two naked boys, standing uncertainly with that bow-legged, sated penis look that boys who'd just received his treatments always sported. They were lovely lads, really. Time to give them something more to think about besides unsettled rectums and their own nude vulnerability. "We'll do your inoculations in a moment," he announced, smiling. "I do hope you'll be brave and not act like Nancy boys about it. Although a good dose of the old Irish strap does wonders for tempering a Nancy boy."

The alternations of good and bad were starting to wear on Jake and Sam. No boy or girl between 2 and 12 ever wants to hear the word "inoculation," or the word "shot," and these two were no exception. After the pleasurable but confusing feelings of a moment ago, the pronouncement by the priest was like being hit by ice cold water. Sam shifted closer to Jake, slipping half behind him so that his semi-soft penis, still projecting, actually bumped his friend's jutting left buttock. "I don't want a shot!" he wailed.

"Not a shot," the priest said calmly, jotting some notes on a paper on his desk. "Several. I don't think you boys have had any inoculations. We need to inoculate both of you for tetanus, pertussis, smallpox, and diphtheria. We can't be using the orphanage resources and the Sisters' valuable time nursing you back to health because you caught a particular preventable disease."

"But I don't want shots! They hurt!" Sam whined. Jake echoed the sentiment with a grim nod but kept quiet.

"We have to do many things we don't want in life," Father McKenzie said. "The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be. We are all bound by God's laws, and have to submit to his plan. God sometimes makes us suffer because he knows that suffering will be good for us, and adults sometimes make children suffer for the same reasons. Now stop whining like wee babes, boys. Remember that we still have your penance, and your penance has to be quite serious due to the magnitude of your sins. Now, while I make some notes on your case files, the two of you can get in position for your shots by bending over the side of the table. You can grip the bar on the far side - that will reduce your urge to reach back and interfere with the inoculations."

Jake and Sam's faces visibly whitened. They were getting shots in their butts? Somehow, that made it seem worse. They'd been in the bent over position too often lately, and each time bad things had happed to their butts, their butt holes, or both. They looked at each other, hesitating. The priest settled behind his desk and began writing. A moment later, though, he glanced up. "Now why don't I see two wee little boy bottoms bent over the table?" he asked, an Irish lilt in his voice and a playful smile on his lips. "We don't want those wee bottoms to be even sorer than the needles make them, do we?"

Jake moved first, scrambling over to the table and bending over the side obediently. The side handle on the table was there, and he grasped the cold metal bar. Sam joined him, looking anxious, and put a death grip on the bar as well. The table was just high enough that they had to either let their legs dangle, or stand on tip toes to touch the ground. Jake elected to keep his toes on the ground, his feet pointed to keep contact there, but a shorter-legged Sam had to let his legs come up so they hung backward, kicking nervously with his feet while he waited. Their red, welted butts with the contrasting white butt cracks and irritated, now red butt holes below made quite a sight, and the priest stopped taking notes immediately once their faces were out of view, his hand putting down the fountain pen and then slipping under his desk to massage his rapidly engorging anatomy. That previous boy's treatment had satisfied him for awhile, but he was up for more - it had been a week since his last treatments of the boys here, after all, and they were only his second clients today. But there would be no full treatment for these two, not today. They had to be eased into it, given a week to adjust. He didn't want them whining to the sisters, and have to spend another session with Mother Superior looking down her nose at him, reminding him that she understood his needs but that there were limits. Well, he wouldn't push those limits—not today. Besides, he had quite a spectacle planned for these two's penance, and he'd want to keep himself a bit hungry for that. And he did have a lad due later that day for his treatment, and his treatment, after Father McKenzie witnessed these boys' penance, was bound to be very vigorous indeed.