Disciplining Their Boys 3

Timothy’s break into unconsciousness lasted for all of five minutes while Susan rested her arm. He awoke with a cough and a start to find his own mother, Jane, waving a small tube of smelling salts under his nose. It took him about a minute to get his bearings as the pain from his welted and bleeding butt brought him back to the reality of his ongoing treatment.
He coughed and shook his head, blinking back fresh tears as the crowd applauded again at Jane’s having awakened her son. He looked up and stared into the face opposite him, nose to nose, and Rand was crying as well. Timothy realized, as he saw Susan out the very edge of his vision, that Rand hadn’t even been touched yet.
He’s crying for ME, not himself! Timothy thought, How can he do that? Could I do that? WHY’s he doing that?
Then the belt tore into his raw butt again and he tried to scream. He thought that he was struck four or five more times, but he wasn’t sure. His entire world was nothing but pain, erasing coherent thought. Then it stopped.
It’s stopped! She stopped? God, maybe she died. Maybe I’ll die. Maybe it’s over. Mom, please, how could you do this to me?! he cried silently as he watched his own mother applauding with the rest of the well-dressed crowd. He then looked at Rand again, who although not gagged as he was, didn’t say anything. He smiled weakly, and Rand grinned at him.

“I saw that, Rand,” Susan said to him. Rand tensed up and shook his bright red head. “What DO you have to smile about, young man? You’re down there and about to be spanked because of your own mistakes. I really thought you’d have learned by now, but I can see I was wrong.”
Timothy could tell that the words hurt Rand far worse than the belt could ever have hoped to do. Rand’s eyes teared up again. “All I wanted to do was help Timmy,” he choked.
“That answer just saved you a great deal of suffering, boy,” Susan replied, and Rand jerked his head up to look at her. She was rubbing her shoulder and nibbling at the edge of the belt. Her eyes were sparkling, and Rand felt dread beginning to overtake him.
“I think we’ll do it this way. Ladies!” She called out, “Do form a neat line up to Rand! Each lady gets to smack his cute little bare butt twice, with the implement of your choice while Timmy and I rest. You can use the belt, your hand, or a wooden paddle. I have one of those too! Of course, if you’re so inclined, you can even use your shoe!”
The applause and comments were thunderous, and the ladies formed a semi-orderly stampede to form a line behind Rand.
Oh, fuck, he thought.
The first in line was Marla, Ty’s mother. She took the liberty of pinching his butt cheeks before anyone could damage them, running her soft and warm hand over his curves. She gave the external ring of his butt plug a small push, and Rand squeaked. “DAT gon’ be a problem, Randy,” she commented, slapping his left cheek with her open palm. Rand flinched. “Dat hurt?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am, it did.”
Marla then smacked his other cheek, and Rand flinched again. “Summ-bitch!” Marla exclaimed, looking at her hand, “I done broke a nail!”
Rand knew exactly where the nail had broken, too. He could feel the sting of the small cut that it had made. However, he knew that he’d be held liable for that, so he simply said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. Maybe you should hit me again with something else to save your nice nails.”
“Isn’t he just darling?” Susan asked, and Marla nodded. She then lifted her leg, gathering some whistles from the crowd, and removed her high-heeled black shoe. Using the long spiked heel as a handle, she swung hard and managed to hit Rand right over his crack, horizontally, stinging across both cheeks at once. Rand’s eyes went wide and Timothy stared at him. Rand could feel himself getting hard within the confines of his belt, and he squirmed as his plug shifted. Marla then patted his flaming red hair and moved on.
Jane came next, and as she swung the paddle for practice, both boys listened to it cut through the air and shivered. “I won’t hit you too hard, since you’ve been so good my son,” she promised. She swung the paddle. Rand didn’t react as it hit him, making a dull slap sound.
Susan glared at him.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said in shaky and squeaky voice, “But you really should hit me harder than that. I deserve it.”
Jane did that, and the second swat brought fresh tears to Rand’s eyes and he cried out.
“Better,” Susan said. Timothy glared but said nothing.
The line progressed in orderly fashion, and by the time Rand was done, twelve women not counting Susan had taken swats at his bare butt. He accumulated a total of 24 hits, and most of them used their hands so the damage wasn’t all that bad. When they were done, the small nail cut was the only bleeding that Rand had. Susan then applied some lidocaine-based cream to his butt, and he sighed explosively in relief and collapsed onto the box as his pain vanished. “You’re basically a good boy, Rand, and I don’t want you to suffer TOO much. You have a few welts, a LOT of handprints, but that’s it. Besides, you still have a reward coming, remember? And Timmy only has ONE more treatment left for tonight.”
She then let him loose and helped him to stand. Someone passed him a soda, and he drank it down in one pull. “Thank you both so much,” he said meekly.
Everyone applauded him, and he flushed, gingerly walking over behind Timothy. Rand gasped as his wide eyes fell upon his friend’s butt.

Timothy had not been so lucky. 24 slaps to his own butt, mostly by open palms, was NOTHING compared to Timothy’s ravaged butt. Every inch of it was red, and the skin was one huge, angry welt. Blood seeped from various intersections of welts, and the muscles were quivering. Both boys had lost track of how many times the belt had struck him, but the damage was obvious. Timothy was going to be in pain for a long time.
Rand shifted his weight from foot to foot, his plug reminding him that it was there as his own penis throbbed, trapped, in his belt. He could feel himself leaking precum, and he hated himself for feeling so aroused by all of this.
He then helped his Aunt dress Timothy’s wounds, but the cream that they applied wasn’t the same one. It was mere antibiotic ointment, and it only intensified the pain. Timothy jerked and howled all the way through it; some of his cries even made it past the gag.
He was then let up to stretch a bit and given a soda with a straw as Rand held him. Again, he was thankful that he didn’t have to take the awful gag out to show everyone.
Susan and Rand then had him kneel at the whipping box again and secured him once more. Timothy began to cry and shake violently, shaking his head and trying to beg. He chewed at the gag, his last vestiges of bravado and anger collapsing.
He was trapped. He couldn’t get away, and they wouldn’t stop hurting him. One treatment simply led to another, and there appeared to be no end in sight. Even his own mother had betrayed him, and that hurt him far more than the spanking or the humiliation. He started to cry again, but this time it was different.

Before, he had cried in pain and embarrassment. This time, he sobbed in total resignation and defeat. There, totally collapsed on the box as his hands were secured and stretched out in front of him, Timothy gave up.

The crowd seemed to sense this, and fell silent. Jane started towards him, tipsy, but Susan stopped her. “This is the part we’ve been waiting for, hon,” she said, leaning down and pulling the gag from his mouth. She slipped it into her pocket, but Timothy didn’t notice or even care that no one had seen it. He breathed hard, swallowed several times, and finally just put his face down and continued to sob.
“I don’t understand,” Jane said.
“He just broke, Jane,” Susan explained. “Every last bit of will and fight left in him just died. He’s somewhat disciplined by now, realizing that he’s totally helpless to change anything or get away. He’s accepting it now, and by tomorrow, he’ll be a totally different boy.”
“Does that mean he’s cured?” Jane asked.
Susan shook her head. “It means that he’s on the road to recovery. It’s a major step, yes, but it’s only the first one. Once he settles down a bit, and can talk, we’ll ask him a few questions and see how he does. The next step is teaching him about rewards, not just punishments. He’s been suffering all day, and when he realizes he can be rewarded as well, that will be the second step. We’ll discuss the rest later.”
Jane bent down to try and comfort him some, but Timothy flinched and tried to pull away. Freed of his gag, his throat raw and his voice hoarse, he croaked, “P-please don’t h-hurt me anym-m-more, mommy! Make it st-stop! I’ll be g-good, I swear I will!
Jane stroked his buzzed hair for a while and rubbed his shoulders. Every muscle in his lithe, young body was tense and shaking, and his butt was a mess. “Does it hurt much?” she asked at Susan’s prompting.
“Y-yes ma’am, bad!”
“And would you like for it to stop hurting, Timmy?” Susan asked.
He looked up then, his eyes red and puffy from sobbing, then looked away. It was too much to hope for, and he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand the letdown, knowing that he had one more treatment left to go. He didn’t know what it was, but he was sure that it involved more pain.
Still, he nodded, gulping hard.
“What would you do to make it stop, Timmy?” she asked.
Timothy couldn’t think. His butt was on fire and his wrist was screaming. His head was beginning to pound as well, and his freshly circumcised penis was throbbing against his bandages. He realized that there was no place on his body that wasn’t in pain somehow, and he collapsed again. The only sound that he could hear was a soft and choked sob, and he knew who had made that sound. Wanly, he smiled.
“I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, ma’am,” he replied.
The crowd applauded, and Timothy looked up to see his mother and Susan smile at him. Susan nodded, and Rand almost tripped trying to get to the cart for the cream that would numb the pain of his friend’s wounds.
Timothy cried out at first as he felt his friend’s warm hands touching his wounded butt, but as the cream took effect, he sighed in relief. They gave him a chance to relax, and after Rand was done, he felt infinitely better. Then heard laughter.
“I should have put on gloves,” he heard Rand saying, “I can’t feel my fingers.” What he could feel, though, was the heat coming from Timothy’s shredded butt.

He was just starting to unwind when Susan called for everyone’s attention. His blood ran cold, and he closed his eyes. It’s almost over, he told himself.
“We’re ready for Timmy’s last treatment, now!” She announced, “AND for Rand’s reward! I think we’ll reward Rand first!”
Applause again. Naturally, Timothy thought.
She then led Rand around where Timothy could see him. She pulled on a new pair of rubber gloves, and then handed Rand a small package with a bow on it. The redhead stared at it, unsure of what to do.
“Open it!” Susan encouraged.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, opening it. His eyes then went wide as he reached into the box. His jaw dropped open, and his face paled.
“You see, Rand,” Susan informed them all, “You’ve been good and you’ve endured your treatments well. You’ve messed up a few times, but all in all I’m pleased with you. Once you complete this phase, you’ll be all done. Won’t that be nice? Besides, we can’t give Timmy his last treatment for the time being until we give you your reward!”
Timothy saw his friend nod and swallow hard. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he thought that he had an idea. Oh God, no he thought, It can’t be! Not what I think it is!

But it was.

Rand pulled his gift from the box and handed it back to his Aunt. Timothy stared in horror at the new black buttplug that he held in his trembling hand. It looked to be somewhat larger than the one that Timothy had already seen the night before, and he wondered IF his friend would even be able to walk once it was installed! All of the boys in the crowd groaned, and many of them looked away.
Then, without prompting, Rand got up on the box to which Timothy was bound and knelt crossways in front of him, carefully avoiding the bound boy’s arms. He closed his eyes and waited, shaking and moaning, as his Aunt slowly removed the straps holding the current plug in place, and then the plug itself from his butt. Once again, Timothy watched in terror as it slid slowly out of him with a sucking sound. Susan then put it into a prepared pan of soap and water on the cart and began lubing up the new one.
The crowd clapped and cheered, but Rand didn’t move. He was hardly breathing.
Very slowly, Susan lubed the plug and then showed it to both boys.
“Every boy that I know hates these,” she announced, “Don’t you, boys?”
They all said “Yes, ma’am,” as one voice.
“You see, what the plug does is not only embarrass and humiliate them, it also causes them great discomfort of a physical and psychological nature. It feels very odd, and it’s not really comfortable to wear. The plug is always reminding them that it is in there, reminding them of the fact that someone else owns their little asses and that they are being disciplined! It also gives them, no doubt, strange sexual pleasures to which they don’t like to admit or even acknowledge! They think it might make them gay boys if they enjoy it too much, so they try not to. They can’t help it though, what with the prostate being where it is and all. Tell us, Rand, do you enjoy it?”
Rand nodded slowly, and Timothy chilled.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I like it, ma’am,” Rand said aloud, his face flaming.
The boys in the crowd groaned again, many of them shifting around and trying to make themselves more comfortable. Only the well-dressed Asian teen seemed intrigued and not terrified.
“One other thing that it also does,” Susan went on as she lubed Rand’s hole, which was still very much open and stretched, “as I said before, is stimulate the prostate. The boy, thus belted and unable to sexually relieve himself or even TOUCH his own genitals, is kept in a constant state of confused arousal with no hope of release. The least little bit of movement only increases this, confusing and frustrating them. Even sitting normally in a chair is often torment for them.”
Everyone agreed and Timothy could hear them all discussing it. Every boy in the room was staring down at his own spread feet, hands behind his back.

The crowd fell silent as Susan then touched the tip of Rand’s new plug to his still-open hole. Timothy realized that the constant presence of the plug had stretched his butt, and he wondered if it would ever be able to close back up on its own.
Rand moaned as the tip of it was pressed into him, and obviously used to it, he pushed back and relaxed. The plug slid in until it reached the rounded and larger part near to the base, then stopped. Rand gasped.
“You can take it, sweetheart, it’s not THAT much bigger,” Susan crooned.
She pushed on it, a bit harder, and as the plug began to enter him, indeed larger than the one he was already so accustomed to, he cried out. Still, she applied gentle pressure, and the plug suddenly penetrated Rand’s hole and slid in with a sickening sound, as Timothy heard it.
Rand squealed and twitched as his Aunt twisted the plug within him and seated it. Timothy knew that his friend had to be hard and suffering, and his own penis, with most of the sensation having returned, hurt and throbbed as it struggled to grow erect. Oh man, what if I pop a stitch? he fretted, watching Rand trying to get used to his new and larger plug. He could feel his own penis touching the carpet of the box to which he was bound, and he wondered if it were bleeding. It certainly hurt, but at least his tortured butt was numb.
Susan then secured the plug in place with the straps, making it impossible for the boy to remove it. Timothy also recalled that it made it impossible for him to take a shit without help as well, and his face flamed again at thought. Wasn’t there anything that they would leave him with, any shred of dignity?
Susan then smiled an evil smile, and she stroked Rand’s back, causing him to get goosebumps. “You know, I feel bad that Rand had to suffer so much for so few minor setbacks. He’s really a good boy and he helps Timmy so much. I’m actually quite proud of him.”
Everyone clapped and whistled, and Rand blushed.
“Thank you, all,” he said.
But Susan wasn’t done yet. Timothy watched as she tickled his ribs a bit, and Rand giggled and squirmed, trying hard not to move. “I think that it’s been a very long time, in fact since Spring break, that Rand had a orgasm. He’s out of school for the summer now, and since he goes back home belted and plugged as you see now, you know there’s no way he can cum on his own. It’s impossible for him to pleasure himself, and he’s constantly aroused, we know. Of course, wet dreams don’t count. We all know those aren’t nearly as good, don’t we, boys?” she asked.
The boys all agreed that nocturnal emissions were generally not that good.
“So I think he might be entitled to one, tonight. What do you think?”
Everyone discussed it for a while, some argued, but Rand was shaking his flaming red head. When the discussion died down, Susan called for a show of hands. It was a predictable split between the men and women, and so resulted in a tie as the boys were not allowed to vote.
“Well, Rand, darling, it’s up to you. What do you say?”
Rand swallowed hard and began to sweat as she rubbed his back. Her slender and practiced hands worked his shoulders and down to his belt, then back up again. She ran her nails over his tummy and chest, pinched his nipples and then slowly stroked his thighs. Rand was shaking and panting as she did this, but still shaking his head. She was deliberately trying to arouse him, and it was working.
“Whatever is the matter, honey?” she asked.
“Wh-what kind of orgasm, please, Aunt Susan?” he almost begged, and Timothy could see his butt struggling against the new plug.
“Well I think that since it isn’t Christmas nor your birthday, that you could have a prostatic one,” she offered, “That’s if the plug doesn’t make you have one automatically. THAT might become a problem.”
Rand shook his head. “P-please, ma’am, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it. You’re too good to me, and I don’t deserve it. But I don’t want one of those. I ... I’m really sorry,” and Timothy could hear the raw fear in his voice, see him shaking. “B-but I ... I ... don’t like those. They don’t feel right. It’s just that ... that ...”
But the boy couldn’t finish. He hung his head, awaiting his punishment.
It never came.
Timothy was amazed at his friend, refusing the chance to cum! It was all that he could do NOT to cum, and Rand didn’t want to?! Then he realized something else - if Rand were to be given a prostatic orgasm only, much as he’d had when he’d been rectally examined, he could understand it! Timothy hadn’t liked it either, and if it involved the new plug, which he thought that it must, then he REALLY understood his friend’s refusal.
Susan smiled, and the crowd applauded.
“Such marvelous self restraint! Auntie’s so proud of you Rand!” She praised him, helping him up and kissing him long and seriously on the mouth.
As Rand got to his feet however, he shifted from foot to foot more than before. His face had a strange expression on it, and as Susan led him off to the side of the box, encouraging him to walk about the room, Timothy could see that he was prancing more than before. As he walked, his heels never touching the floor and his knees bent slightly, he seemed to be struggling! It looked as if it were all he could do to move as the new plug worked its way in, poking him, massaging him internally, exciting him! Timothy knew the agony that Rand must be feeling, his struggling penis trapped within the tight belt and demanding attention that it could not get. He grimaced as he watched Rand struggle with it, just to walk, and Timothy was reminded of a boy at school he’d known who had very mild cerebral palsy.
Rand moved almost like that, as if his body simply did NOT want to cooperate with his brain’s orders to walk.
Rand was panting and sweating when he came back from across the room, and although he was trying very hard, he just couldn’t get himself comfortable.
“Do you like it, dear?” Susan asked softly, smiling and petting his red hair.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied, “It’s a bit bigger though!”
Everyone but the boys and Timothy laughed and clapped, but as Rand turned towards his friend, Timothy could tell that he was lying.

Rand then glanced at the cart-full of terrors, then at Timothy who was still helplessly bound across the punishment box.
“I do believe it’s time for Timmy’s last treatment of the night, everyone!” Susan announced, and once again, Timothy cringed at the applause.
He then heard more whispers run through the crowd, and as he looked up, he saw Susan’s hands working at something in the pan of soapy water.
His heart nearly stopped when she lifted out Rand’s former buttplug and dried if off with a clean towel.
“This is your last treatment for the night, Timmy,” she beamed.
Timothy sighed and closed his eyes. He could imagine her lubing it up, smiling at him. He could see everyone watching him, wondered what they were thinking. He wondered how they could do it – watch him, watch their own sons endure it. He couldn’t understand it. It was torture, in Timothy’s opinion, and surly illegal. The presence of the local police, however, dashed his hopes of rescue.
He was about to be plugged, like every other boy in the room, and no one – not even his OWN MOTHER – was making any move to stop it.
He kept his eyes clenched shut, listening to the sound of heels on the floor. She was coming. Her steps were even and deliberate, and she had to know that he couldn’t look! Closer and closer the steps came, then stopped. He felt a cool rubber gloved hand on his cheeks, and Timothy secretly thanked every god that he had ever heard mentioned that his raw and bleeding butt was numbed.
It was not, however, numbed INTERNALLY, and that was where he felt the cool, lubricated finger going next.
No one said a word, and he could just imagine them all waiting with baited breath. The finger moved in and out, slowly, lubricating him.
“Almost,” he heard Susan say softly. “Just relax.”
Timothy found that he couldn’t do that.

Then he felt the rounded tip touch his anus.

“Noooo!” he cried softly, still ungagged, “P-please no!”
Susan, however, patted his back with her free hand and pressed the tip at his awaiting anus. As it began to slide in, the boy tensed up.
“Make like you’re trying to take a dump,” Rand advised.
“Very good idea, dear,” Susan replied, and as Timothy did that, trusting his friend, the plug slid in about halfway.
“Ooooh, God!” the boy moaned.
Very carefully, Susan continued to press the plug home, twisting it just a bit when it came to the bulged near the edge. Timothy squirmed and moaned, clenched his teeth, and yelped sharply as it finally went it. Susan then secured it to the belt’s straps, making it impossible for the boy to remove it.
“There it is, Timmy. Last treatment of the night, all nice and plugged! Rand, let him loose.”
Rand did that and helped his friend to his feet.
Timothy gritted his teeth and immediately understood, once he’d gained his footing, why Rand and all the other boys walked like they did. Any which way he stood, any way he stepped or moved, only made the presence of the plug inside of him more obvious. He took a few cautious steps, crying and groaning as he did.
“They always fight with it,” Susan commented, “But it does them no good. They can’t win. The plugs always win.”
Everyone clapped again, and Jane approached her son on unsteady feet. “I think I’ve had a bit much to drink,” she offered, reaching for her son.
Timothy stepped back, and the plug jabbed at his prostate as it continued to make itself at home in his rectum. He glanced down and saw the head of freshly circumcised and catheterized penis, dripping precum around the yellow tube, peeking out from the gauze. His eyes were full of fear, and mother or not, she was just as responsible as Susan was. He wanted nothing to do with her. He just wanted to run, to get away, to find some escape from this insanity!
“L-leave me alone!” he gasped, backing away, prancing and squirming as he tried to assimilate the odd feelings coming from inside of him.
He backed into Susan then, and she caught him by the backstrap of his outfit.
“Walk around for us a bit, Timmy. Show your mommy how well the plug fits.”
Timothy looked down at the floor and took a few steps, his face flaming as everyone clapped and stared at him. He just wanted to crawl under a rock and die, but he walked as he was told. He made it to the far end of the room and turned to come back. On his way back across the room, prancing on the tips of his toes and obviously suffering, he stumbled. As he went down, he closed his eyes, planning on just laying there and not moving. If he didn’t move, the plug wouldn’t poke at him. If he didn’t move, maybe they wouldn’t hurt him anymore. He didn’t make it to the floor though.

Someone caught him.

Timothy opened his eyes and looked up at the smartly dressed Asian boy, Lee they’d called him, the one his mother had been talking to. He smiled at him, his perfect white teeth flashing. “I got you!” he assured him. “You’re doing ok.”
Timothy stared at him and nodded, looking him up and down.
“What?” Lee asked.
“Thanks,” was all that Timothy felt safe saying.
Then he heard his mother’s voice. “Oh, Timmy,” she called, lurching towards them and sloshing champagne on the floor, “Isn’t Lee just darling? He’s all done wit his treatment, and it only took him a couple of months to decide! You should listen to him!”
Timothy wasn’t sure that he wanted to know what Lee had done, but he had a feeling that he was going to find out.
Months? Can I do months? I don’t know. I don’t think so. What about Rand? I know it’s been more than that, I think. What do I say? What do I ask? What if she punishes me for it, though?Lee patted Timothy’s back as the boy made his way back to where he’d been bound. He remembered the pose that Rand always assumed, feet spread and hands behind his back, and did that. Everyone clapped.
Susan, who was sipping at a drink, called for their attention. “Timmy’s treatment for the night, and for the next few months, is finished now! We’ll take him and Rand back to their room, and they can convalesce together! Won’t that be nice? But before we do, I think the obligatory advice is in order for our newest disciplined boy here!”
Again, applause and whistles.
“Lee, would you please show Timothy how well YOUR treatment went?” Susan asked politely.
Lee trotted over to them and nodded. He began undoing his tight shorts, and as he pulled them down, Timothy noticed no belt. He was wearing white briefs, plain and not unusual, but there was something about the front of them that bothered him. They didn’t look right.

“The best way,” Lee was saying, “To end the treatment sooner, is not to try and go through the whole ordeal. I went for two months, like you, with the belt and plug and I finally asked how to end it. I felt so bad with what I’d done, and I wanted to be cured of it. I didn’t want to shame my family with my bad habits, but I knew I couldn’t stop. It’s almost like drugs, I think, so I finally asked Doctor Susan what to do. She told me, and we all agreed it was best for me. You and Rand should think about it, too,” he advised, dropping his briefs and bringing the buzz of the room to silence.

Timothy gasped and jumped back. Rand’s eyes went wide. Lee lifted his white shirt a bit, and both belted boys stared at him.
Lee was shaven, his skin tanned a bit and smooth. His small scrotum, which was a faint shade of red, was drawn up tightly and his small testicles were little more than two delicate bumps at the very meeting of sac and body. There was a tiny and almost invisible scar running down the center and along the base, but what got their attention and held it was just above that neatly reduced and tight scrotum.

Lee had no penis.

There wasn’t even a hole, and the scarring was minimal. It very nearly looked as if the boy had been born without one to begin with, and his grin was broad. “You can’t masturbate if you don’t have a penis, and no penis means no belt and no plug,” he stated proudly.
“Oh … my … God …,” Timothy said slowly, his face pale.
“How … I mean, if you don’t have … but if … what I mean is, geez, Lee, how do you pee? There’s no hole!” Rand stammered.
It was obvious that the boy had yet to assist his Aunt with a penectomy.
“Right here,” Lee offered, pointing down under his scrotum, “You sit and it comes out down here. New hole under the sac, near the anus.” He looked rather proud of himself, and both boys shivered.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Susan asked.
Both boys turned to face her. They shook their heads, eyes wide.
Everyone laughed, and Lee pulled his shorts back up. “You two should really think about it. I mean, gosh, Rand! It’s been a long time for you. Aren’t you wanting to be out of that treatment belt?”
“Not if I have to get my dick cut off!” Rand replied.
Timothy, however, had begun to cry again. He had been circumcised, belted, tortured, beaten, plugged, and now he was facing a boy who had just told him that the final treatment meant losing his penis.

It was just too much for him.

This isn’t real, it’s a bad dream, he told himself, I’ll wake up and I’ll be home and I won’t be hurt or plugged or belted and it’ll all be over! This cant’ be happening! You cant’ cut a boy’s penis off! It’s impossible!

Yet as he stared at Lee, then back and Rand, and finally at his mother and Susan, he knew that he wasn’t dreaming. He got goosebumps, and his jaw was hanging open.
“Well?” Lee was saying.
“I can’t!” Rand was crying, “I just can’t!”

“We’ll see how it goes, dear,” Susan told her nephew, “Maybe you’ll come around. Just think how good it would feel not having all that in the way down there tempting you. You’re happy, aren’t you, Lee?” she asked.

“Oh, yes!” the Asian boy agreed, and everyone erupted into even louder applause as several of the other boys hung their heads and turned their backs, shaking.

“It seems that YOU have a lot to think about, too, Timmy,” Jane was saying, "But it's late and the boys need their rest! Good evening, everyone, and thank you so much for coming!"
As if on cue, Rand said the same thing.
Timothy managed to choke it out too, even managing to shake Lee's hand as the happily penectomized boy turned to go. He watched them all file out, noticing that Marla and Luther had their hands full with a passed-out Jane.

"OK, boys," Susan was saying, "We'll clean up tomorrow. Off to bed with you two. Rand will help you, Timmy."

"C'mon, Timmy," Rand said comfortingly, taking him the shoulders, "It won't seem so bad in the morning."