Strip Poke-Him 3

By Gerste

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain 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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"Strip Poke-Him," by Gerste, Part III

Simon went downstairs, as instructed, dejected and forlorned. He saw a gathering in the living room, and entered to see all of his six party retinue of female classmates gathered around in rapt anticipation. He felt like he was "voluntarily" walking into a lion's den. His mother, Mrs. Ditther, soon entered behind him and told him to go over to the corner. He complied. Then she removed the ropes binding his hands in back. Instantly, Simon instinctly wanted to scratch his itching scrotum, but, having thought better of it, he resisted. True to her word, the photos Mrs. Ditther took of him were very detailed (from a digital camera), and required him to bend and spread wide quite often. Every detail and crevice of his body was salient and stark, as he found out when Mrs. Ditther uploaded the photos onto the household computer and showed him. They were huge, and one could make detailed posters out of them. His face was in most of them, and in any case everyone would know who it was. Mrs. Ditther would make sure. She then had her son watch, in utter embarrassment and humiliation, as she set up a website with the photos on them and contacted all the boylover sites, providing them with an advertising description and web address. Then everyone sat back and watched as the hits on her Simon photo website began to climb. They entered the hundreds, then thousands, then eventually tens of thousands. Mrs. Ditther turned to her guests and said, "At this rate, we should see the hundred-thousands mark today or tomorrow." She turned to her son and, grabbing his penis, said, "And they are all going to be seeing this big prick of yours, son, besides your balls, asshole and asscheeks." The girls laughed, as if that was somehow funny. The reality of it all steadily set in as Simon began to weep anew. But his eyes were not the only things weeping, he seemed to notice as he looked around. It seemed to him that some of the fully clothed girls around him were wet through the pants around the crotch area. He didn't know why. They had an excited, almost indescribably sadistic, look about them.

Mrs. Ditther then announced that it was time for her female guests to return to Jenny's, where they were staying. She would drive them there. She thanked them for "helping" Simon and turned to his two sisters, Melissa (12) and Carol (8), saying to them: "Make sure Simon is clean, as we discussed."

Carol and Melissa: "Yes, mom."

Then turning to Simon, she said, "Your sisters are in charge of you. You will obey them. You understand, honey?"

Simon: "...er, even Carol? She's a year younger than me."

Mrs. Ditther: "Of course. Now I'm going to drive these girls back to Jenny's. You have your instructions. Go up and draw your bath and wait until they arrive. And I'd better not find out that you touched your dick and balls without their permission. Understand?"

Simon, who was tormented by the itching sensation: "Understood!"

With that, she left, and Simon did as he was told, with the notable exception of scratching his testicles vigorously when he went upstairs out of the sight of everyone. When the bath water was about three quarters of the way full, his two female siblings entered and told him to get in so they could bathe him. He realized he had to urinate. He could go in the bath water undetected, but then he realized that his testicles began to itch again. Using the toilet was a good pretext for scratching them.

Simon: "I have to pee, Melissa."

Melissa: "Very well, I'll hold your penis and you can pee."

Simon hadn't anticipated this contigency. He wanted to protest this failure of plans, but he realized that his need to urinate seemed naggingly urgent and distracted him from attempting an argument. So he cooperated. He urinated into the toilet while Melissa held his aim. Once finished, he asked Melissa if he could scratch his testicles. She said no. The need seemed chronic now, and he decided on plan B: "Can I wash myself, at least? This is really embarrassing, and I want some dignity in washing myself." It seemed plausible enough, if somewhat actually true. But Simon might have guessed that such an argument would not prevail, since no one seemed particularly interested with his "dignity" the whole night.

Melissa: "No, Carol and I will wash you. Now hop in."

Simon could stand it no longer. He reached down and scratched his itchy spot in open "defiance" of his sibling authority, meanwhile uttering, "Bitch," as much from repressed anger as from catharsis. Melissa would have none of it. She, being bigger and stronger than he (as a girl three years his elder), pushed Simon into the wall, pinning him. Simon looked back at her, shocked and wide-eyed. In all his nine years, he had never seen this side of Melissa. They had always got along so well as brother and sister--even exceptionally so. Melissa reached down with her free hand and grabbed Simon's penis.

Melissa: "Listen, you little shit. This cock is mine to do with what I please. It's not yours, you little prick...except that you don't HAVE a little prick."

Carol: "It's mine, too."

Melissa: "Oh, of course, it's Carol's too, and everyone else's, as well. The only one it doesn't belong to, Simon, is you. Got that?"

Simon, still wide-eyed and frightened, nodded quickly.

Melissa: "Good. Now that we have that settled..." She backed up and let him up.

Melissa: "I think your insubordinate behavior calls for a spanking." She sat on the toilet and put him over her lap and proceeded to smack his naked buttocks 30 times. Then she summoned Carol and had her pulled Simon's butcheeks apart while she smacked his anus as well, about 30 times, Simon balling all the while. After that, she told him to "sit your little ass in that tub so we can clean it." Simon did as he was told. Then Melissa and Carol went on to clean every inch of him, paying meticulous attention to his rectal region, now quite sore, and genitals. They spread open the sphincter and cleaned the ring vigorously with a brush, to the squirming discomfort of a dispirited Simon. They found a small eyelash brush and did the same thing with his eurethral orifice (meatus). After what seemed like an eternity to Simon, they were finally done. They did manage, however, to scrub the itch out of his now sore scrotum. But the "cure" was worse than the disease. Notwithstanding, the soreness was soon replaced by an even stronger itching sensation, as the redness started to "heal." It was real torture now. Simon walked over to the sink and tried to rub his testicles against the corner to relieve them, but to no avail. The corner was rounded and the sensation was not just in one spot of his testicles, but throughout. His penis was also feeling the itch.

Melissa: "What the hell are you doing, Simon? Are you trying to fuck the sink? Wait until I tell everyone about this."

Melissa and Carol decided to play with their toy, and began to fondle his testicles and penis. Simon naturally succumbed to his situation, not only because he had to resign himself to their manipulations, but because he was hoping they could inadvertantly scratch the itchy spots. They did no such thing. They weren't scratching at all.

Melissa: "I wonder how long this prick is while limp."

Carol ran and produced a ruler and Melissa measured the flaccid member, saying, "A little over five and three quarters inches.

Melissa again: "The girls said it was seven and a half inches hard. Let's see if we can reproduce their results."

They played with Simon's penis until it became erect. When they were satisfied that it was fully turgid, they measured it again:

Melissa: "Wow, seven and fourteen sixteenths inches. That's almost 8 inches. It must not have been fully erect when they measured it."

Carol: "I wonder if we can make it bigger."

Both Carol and Melissa had a fiendish grin on their faces, as Carol was showing precocity beyond her years. Melissa then measured the diameter of the bloated penis, and found that it was almost two inches. She had a wicked idea.

Melissa: "Let's both squeeze it as hard as we can to see if we can get it to a full eight, no, eight and a half, inches."

Carol: "I bet we can get it to nine."

Melissa: "Let's try to get it to eight and a half within the month. Agreed?"

Carol: "Agreed."

The girls then began to squeeze Simon's turgid member as hard as they both could, all over it, making Simon cringe. They simply ignored his obvious discomfort and continued for about two hours. Then they measured it again. Carol swore it had increased to seven and fifteen sixteenths inches, but Melissa was not so certain.

"We'll have to keep trying night after night until we get it to eight and a half."

After they agreed (to Simon's utter chagrin), they were about to dismiss Simon to bed, for which he longed, when Carol disappeared and returned with flexicuffs, which their parents gave Carol and Melissa for restraining Simon as they deemed necessary. They put them on Simon, cuffing his hands in back, as before.

Melissa: "There, that ought to keep you from scratching. I'm glad we solved that problem [irony]. These are to keep you from touching yourself while in bed. If these don't work, we'll have to tie you to the bed itself. Got that, my well-hung little brother?" As she said this, she reached down and stroked his penis for emphasis.

Simon finally went to his bed. His itching sensation somewhat subsided with the soreness of his penis. But Simon did not count on "help" from his mischievious sisters. Melissa then entered the room: "Oh, and another thing, Simon," she said, half giggling, "I have something for that 'jock itch' of yours." That said, she pulled out some powerful itching powered and, wearing gloves, rubbed it all over his genitals. The itching sensation exploded on his boy parts. His extraordinarily large penis, still erect, afforded her a good deal of surface area to cover, multiplying the effect and exacerbating the situation for Simon. The feeling was now overwhelming. Simon got up to run, but Melissa caught him. She decided that the "joke" would be funnier if Simon was tethered to the bed. As if on cue, Mrs. Ditther entered the room and asked if they needed help. They answered yes. She held his arms while Carol and Melissa removed the cuffs and tethered Simon to the four corners of the bed with strong twine, facing him upward, uncovered and stretched tout. Then they left him to his torment. For good measure, Melissa rubbed more itching powder on his penis and testicles (wearing gloves, of course). Simon was screaming from the itchy sensation. They all left to go to their respective beds. They used fans to block out the noise.

End of Part III

(The End)