“What do you suppose this is all about?” Larry asked Mike as they headed for the principal’s office.

“I don’t have a clue,” Mike answered, “but I don’t think we screwed up or anything like that.” Both were custodians at the high school and both had spotless records and excellent peer revues.

They waited in the outer office and couldn’t help but overhear the principal as he raised his voice to chew out some teenage miscreant. “Any more trouble from you and you’ll be going to school somewhere else, Wilson. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” the boy answered meekly.

“Good. Now get back to class.” The door opened and Robert ‘Bobby’ Wilson strode confidently out, and as soon as he was out of sight of the principal he turned around and flipped a bird in the direction of the office.

Earlier in the day a Freshman English teacher had entered his classroom to find some very well executed artwork adorning the blackboard. One side of the board had a detailed image of an erect penis of heroic dimensions, a hairy crotch, and two egg-sized testicles. The penis was pointed across the blackboard, and every two feet there were large streaks of white to indicate the streams of semen, and at the other side of the blackboard there was an expertly drawn profile of the English teacher’s head, mouth open, with a white drop hanging from his chin. No more than twenty of the eight hundred students in the high school had the necessary talent to make the drawing, and only one was a freshman, and he was the only one with access to the classroom. Even so, the evidence was circumstantial and Bobby would have skated except that he’d opened his mouth. “I recognize the guy on the left,” he said, pointing to the caricature he’d drawn of the teacher, “But who’s the other dude?” It was his smart mouth that got him sent to the principal’s office, and not the execution of the drawing.

“Oh you’re here already,” the principal greeted Mike and Larry. “Good. Come on in.” He closed the door and gestured for the two custodians to sit down. “Do you know the boy that just left, Robert Wilson?”

Mike and Larry looked at each other a few seconds before answering. They knew Bobby Wilson all right. Anytime a wall got marked up or a towel stuffed down a toilet they suspected that Bobby was involved. Their counterparts at the junior high had warned them, and had also reported that things had returned to normal as soon as Bobby left. Their own suspicions had been confirmed earlier in the school year when Bobby had stayed home for a week recovering from an appendicitis surgery; All vandalism and tagging had ceased for that week. “Yeah, we know him all right,” Larry answered for both of them.

“Good,” the principal said. “ I’ve tried every thing I can think of to get his attention, but nothing seems to work. I want you two to take him aside somewhere and scare the shit out of him. Any problem with that?”

“Uh, not really, except….” Larry was obviously nervous about answering the question.

“Don’t worry about the handbook,” the principal said. The handbook was issued to all teachers and classified employees and specified exactly how the employees could and could not interact with the students. It stated that no employee could be alone with any student of any sex for any reason; there always had to be a witness. No employees other than PE teachers and coaches could be in the locker or shower rooms when occupied by students. No action that could be conceived as physically threatening was allowed in any form what so ever. “I don’t want him harmed in any way, just scared. I don’t care how you do it just get it done. There’s an all-school safety meeting tomorrow at five, and all of the custodians and school staff will swear that you were both there for the entire hour, so that would be the best time.”

“Yes sir,” Larry answered on his way out the door. He knew that the principal didn’t want to hear any details or answer any questions about what he’d just set in motion.

“What do you think we should do?” Mike asked. Back when he and Larry had been in school it was easy to scare a kid; just take the little fucker aside somewhere and brace him up against a wall and get right in his face, or go into the locker room when he was showering and just stare at his naked body. That always shook them a little. The touchy-feely-protect-the little darlings at all cost attitude nowadays prevented just about any meaningful type of discipline.

“Well,” Larry answered, “Think back to when you were in the ninth grade. What would have scared you? Getting the crap kicked out of you?”

“Nah, I was a tough little shit, but getting in trouble with my old man would have been bad, and having the other kids laugh at me because I was different or not cool would have been the shits.”

“Okay,” Larry pondered for a few minutes. “What did you want more than anything else back then? I mean, what could someone take from you to get your attention?”

“Hell, that’s easy,” Mike laughed. “I was just like every other high school kid. I wanted to get laid!”

“The way I hear it, kids now are getting all the sex they want,” Larry said, “Remember that thing last week?” A fellow custodian had passed a magazine article around that had described one of the new fads: Kids as young as sixth and seventh graders were now into Rainbow Parties, where the girls all wore different shades of lipstick and the guys collected the various hues on their cocks.

“Yeah,” Mike replied. “These kids are probably getting more action than I am. What do you have in mind?”

“I think we should take the little asswipe somewhere, tie him down, and shave his crotch. That ought to get his attention.” Larry said.

“From what I hear some of these kids shave down there anyway to make their cocks look longer.”

“I’ll bet they don’t shave it all off,” Larry replied, “and besides that, while we have him naked we can make like we’re going to cut his balls off. Make him believe that the last piece of ass he got or the last time he jacked off will be the last time period. That would have literally scared the shit out of me when I was that age, in fact, it probably would still.”

The kid tied spread-eagle on the bench in the boiler room was indeed scared. He hadn’t given a second thought to entering the storage room whose door had been left ajar, after all, he did that all of the time. It was only when his hands were seized and a gag stuffed in his mouth that he became alarmed. He tried resisting as a hood was pulled over his head, and thought that he’s gotten in a couple of pretty good kicks before he was finally subdued. It seemed like hours had passed before his captives opened the door and muscled him down some corridors and stairs into what he assumed was the basement of the school where he was summarily relieved of his clothing and securely tied to a hard table or something.

The hood was finally removed and he looked around to recognize the hulking mass of the heating boiler. His captors stood beside him, both dressed in baggy coveralls and wearing ski masks to conceal their faces. It was apparent that both were staring at his genitals, and that alone was enough to scare the boy.

“Just look at all that bush,” the boy heard the taller man speak. He though maybe he’d heard the voice before but didn’t have a clue who it might be.

“Yeah. We’ll have to shave him for sure,” Mike answered, handing Larry the can of shaving cream. Larry shot a dollop of the white cream into his hand and ran it through the boy’s downy pubic crown, around the cock, and between the highs. Larry would have applied another handful of shaving cream to the boy’s scrotum, taking the time to thoroughly massage each testicle, but his orders had been to not hurt the boy.

“Won’t be much of a loss anyway,” Larry commented, “Small as his nuts are.” Actually, the reverse was true: The boy was only fourteen and wasn’t much over five feet tall, but his balls were comparatively large, as they often are at that age. They were each about the size of a medium hen’s egg, and were easily larger than Larry’s adult balls.

The boy’s struggling increased as Larry slowly drew the razor across the boy’s crotch and around the cock in slow, even strokes, pausing only long enough to rinse the accumulated hair off in a bucket of water. “Will it grow back?” Mike asked. “I mean, with his balls gone?” The boy’s eyes grew wide with fear as the realization of what was about to happen hit him.

“Sure,” Larry answered. “Women have hair, don’t they? Hell, he might even be able to get a little bit hard if he sucks enough cock. You probably do that anyway, huh kid?”

“How are you going to do him?” Mike asked, trying hard to sound serious. “Slit his bag open like the last one, or cut the whole sack off?”

“Slice the whole bag off. You ready with the hot iron?”

“Yep,” Mike answered, holding up the glowing soldering iron for both Larry and the boy to see.

“Okay kid, here we go,” Larry said, brandishing a large hunting knife.

The boy’s eyes grew wide with fear, and his struggles doubled as Larry brought the knife near his crotch, and his testicles visibly retracted when Larry reached our with a gloved hand as if to grasp them. The boy abruptly arched his back, and the room was suddenly filled with the stench of shit as he voided his bowls.

“Okay you little fucker.” Larry pulled the gag from the boy’s mouth and started to untie his hands. “Get yourself cleaned up and get out of here. And you’d better learn to watch your mouth or the next time it’ll be for real.”

“I know you!” the kid suddenly exclaimed. “You’re Larry, the homo janitor that dad warned me about. And the other guy must be Mike the Dildo ‘cause you two always hang around together. Dad said that when he was in school you guys used to come into the locker room and stare at the guys getting in and out of the shower. He said he saw you suck a kid’s cock behind the bleachers one time.” The kid’s smart-ass attitude had returned even though his hands and feet were still tied to the table. “Wait until I tell Dad! Your ass will be grass!”

Larry paused for almost a full minute before reaching out and taking the kids balls in his hand.

“You motherfucker!” The kid said, in obvious pain. “You get your rocks off playing with guys’ balls, huh?” His eyes shifted to the tent in the front of Larry’s pants.

“Yeah,” Larry said, reaching for the knife. “Hey Mike, is that iron still hot?”

The kid’s screams had died away to a soft moaning by the time Larry and Mike left the boiler room.

“Think we got his attention?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, I’d say we did,” Larry answered. “See you tomorrow.”