“Yesterday we learned about the different types of levers, and if you were paying attention you’ll remember that a gentleman named Archimedes said that given a place to stand and a lever that was long enough, that he could move the world. Today we’re going to discuss the pulley, which is a different form of lever.” I paused a few minutes to let that sink in.

Graduation requires two years of science; General Science is required for high school Freshmen and Biology for the Sophomores. I teach both, and also Chemistry and Physics. This particular class is usually referred to as Bonehead Science because about a third of the kids are Sophomores and Juniors who flunked it the first go around and must now use one of their elective classes to make it up.

Some of the bright young Freshmen are wide-awake and taking notes, and others just look bored. Two of the girls appear to have magazines inserted into their textbooks and are using the time to catch up on the latest teen gossip, and another is writing what appears to be a note or letter. One of the Boneheads has his hands under the desk and is concentrating on something in his lap, either playing with his cock or sending an illicit text message on a contraband cell phone. Another two are already starting to nod off, one is concentrating intensely on Melissa Anderson’s cleavage, and one looks as if he’s stoned. All in all, a typical class.

“Here,” I directed the class’s attention to a drawing of a pulley, weight, and rope that I had earlier made on the blackboard, “is a simple pulley, or sheave as they are often called. Notice that the pulley is attached to the overhead beam and that a one hundred pound weight is attached to one end of the rope. How much force will be needed straight down on the other end of the rope to lift the weight? Anyone?”

“A hundred pounds?” one of the smarter Freshmen answered, rather tentatively.

“That is correct, plus very little bit for friction,” I answered. “Now, if the object being lifted weighs a hundred pounds, and we are pulling down on the rope with a hundred pounds, how much total force is pulling down on the pulley?” This question was a little tougher, and it took a while before one of the Boneheads piped up.

“Two hundred pounds?” He said, probably guessing.

“You’re right.” I congratulated the kid. “Now, keeping that in mind, what happens when we turn the whole thing over?” I asked, turning their attention to another drawing. “Say that we attach the pulley to the weight and one end of the rope to the overhead beam. How hard do we have to pull up on the other end of the rope to lift the weight?” Anyone who’d ever worked on a farm or in a shop would have known the answer, but these were all city kids who’d never done any physical work.

No one was forthcoming with an answer, so I used a pointer to diagram the forces. Finally one of the kids came up with an answer.

“One hundred pounds,” he stated, sure of himself.

“No, it’s fifty pounds. See, the total weight being lifted is one hundred pound, but fifty of that is on the end of the rope tied to the beam, so you only have to pull up with fifty pounds force to lift the weight. That’s the beauty of the whole thing, and that’s how a large crane can lift two hundred tons or more with a cable that has a breaking strength of less than fifty thousand pounds. Isn’t that neat? I asked, turning to the blackboard.

“Beeg fooking deal.” Someone behind my back mocked.

I knew instantly that it was Bob Morris. He was the class clown and he had a dozen different voices and accents, none of which were anything like his normal speaking voice, and he could talk like a ventriloquist without moving his lips or jaw. He had been hassling me and the other teachers all of the year. He was a bright enough kid but only a mediocre student and he was usually so bored that he disrupted the class to get a few laughs from his fellow students. He was also the master of the poker face, and when confronted he would deny any involvement and not show a glimmer of guilt. He was big for a Freshman also somewhat of a bully and he had his classmates cowed to the point that none of them would rat him out. Worst of all, his dad was on the school board and the little asshole knew that he knew he was untouchable.

“Yes,” I turned and started directly at the kid. “It is a big deal. Ropes and pulleys enabled the raising and control of large sails, which meant that ships large enough to cross the oceans could be built, which allowed European settlement of this continent, which I’d say was a pretty big deal.” He’d expected me to fly off the handle and cause a big embarrassing scene, but I was expecting a disruption from the little turd and had prepared for it. “If you will all gather at the back of the classroom, I have prepared a little demonstration that I’m sure will help all of you better understand the subject,” I said, removing a small bundle from the lower drawer of my desk.

“I’ll need a volunteer.” I said, then before anyone could step forward I added, “How about you, Mr. Morris?” Having been duly challenged, Bob stepped forward. “Thank you,” I said, “Now please remove your clothes.”

“No F---! I mean, no way, sir!” He replied indignantly.

“Extra credit will be awarded to four people for helping him strip. How about you, Jason, and Howard and Derrick and you, Kevin?” I had named four of the Boneheads, all Juniors and all in danger of failing the class again, and all large football linesmen. “Go ahead and help him take off his clothes.” Morris wasn’t very well liked, and the four guys only looked at each other and nodded before two grabbed Morris and held him securely while the other two pulled his clothes off. In less than a minute they had him stripped down to his underwear. “Those too,” I pointed at the brightly patterned boxer shorts.

Most of the guys had probably seen him naked in the shower room, but the girls were a different story. Most had seen little brothers or other infant boys, and by now most of them had probably gotten into some pretty graphic Internet sites and checked out the porn stars, but few if any had seen boys their own age naked and now they all crowded close for a good look.

The biggest part of Morris was his mouth. Below the belt he looked just like any other fourteen-year-old kid, just a little smaller. His dick wasn’t much thicker than my thumb and in it’s flaccid state, not much longer. His nuts looked to be no bigger than large olives, but hung low in a bright pink sack. His wispy pubes were confined to a small patch on his crotch; his thighs and belly were as smooth as if he’d just shaved them.

I let everyone get a good look at the nude boy, and then directed my assistants to hold him spread-eagle on the floor between a series of half-inch holes that I’d previously drilled. The principal would shit bricks when informed of the damage to the floor, but I felt that the demonstration was important, and besides that, there would be lots of other things for him to be upset about. I opened the bundle I had been carrying and removed four leather manacles and buckled one to each of the boy’s wrists and ankles, then attached a long piece of stout cord to each. I then placed a metal peg in each of the holes that were now a few inches from his outstretched hands and feet, and an additional peg in the center hole, which was located right between his feet. I then ran the cords around the outer pegs and back to the center pegs and left the excess cordage coiled on the floor between his legs.

“Let me up, you assholes!” the boy said indignantly. My response was to force a red ball gag into his mouth and loop the elastic retaining straps around his head.

“These pegs will function as pulleys,” I told the class, “And any movement of his arms or legs will cause a pull on the corresponding cord.” I then squatted between his legs, took his scrotum in my hand, and tied the four cords tightly around his balls. I wasn’t too gentle on the boy and is bucking and squirming made the task difficult, but having a guy by his balls guarantees compliance. “You may release his arms and legs now, “I told my assistants, “he won’t be going anywhere soon.”

“Notice what happens when his leg moves,” I said, giving one of his ankles a slight nudge with my toe and causing a sudden tug on the boy’s scrotum. “See how the motion is transferred around the outer peg and the center peg and ends up as a pull on the center cord? That’s a perfect example of how pulleys change the direction of force. Now, watch what happen when I stimulate him to try and move his arms.” I put my foot on the extended scrotum and stepped down on the boy’s balls. He writhed on the floor and instinctively tried to reach his nut to protect them and ease the pain, which only resulted in his nuts being stretched even farther towards his knees.

“Any questions?” I asked, surveying the surrounding students. The girls seemed unmoved, for the most part but the boys all had their hands coving their crotches, either to conceal their growing erections or possibly out of sympathy for their hapless companion. There were no questions so I dismissed the class, and after they have vacated the room I went over to my captive and opened my pocketknife. “Let’s get those cords off of you, Bob,” I said, reaching down as if to cut him free. Instead I put the knife against the narrow, confined neck of his scrotum and made a quick slice, then went to my desk and sat and waited.

Word would quickly spread about the lesson, and someone would soon come barging in the door to check on the rumor that Old Man Wilson had flipped out and strung Bob Morris out by his nuts. I didn’t really give a shit: Yesterday the doctor told me that I had less than a month before the tumor would kill me, and I decided that I wasn’t going to die until I had made a lasting impression on at least one of the dumb little bastards that I have had to put up with for the last thirty years. Mission accomplished.