Disciplining Their Boys

Timothy’s problems, which he didn’t view as such, began at puberty and only got steadily worse as he grew older and more well developed. When he was thirteen, the first signs began to show. He noticed one day, while in the bath, that he had an erection and had been having quite a few of them lately. Upon further examination of his uncircumcised penis, he thought that his genitals were enlarging, just a bit, but he wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, however, was the fine dusting of small, light hairs here and there above his penis.

His erect state, however, required his attention, and he did that. As he sat in the bath, surrounded by a comforting mound of bubbles, he rubbed himself and sighed in pleasure. Touching himself felt really good, he realized, and he enjoyed the sensation of pulling his snug foreskin back and trying to trap bath water under it. The feelings were odd, he realized, and he wondered why he’d never noticed it before. This didn’t become a problem, his taking very long and hot baths, until his mother began to complain about the water bill and having to wait to relieve herself. “What are you doing in there, son,” she joked one day, “Masturbating the whole time? You’ll shrivel up like a prune.”

Timothy, fresh from the bath and still damp under his white terry cloth hooded robe, immediately gasped and looked at his pink and shriveled fingers. His face flamed, and looked guiltily up at his mother. He looked away sharply, his mouth hanging open, but it was too late.

She grinned at him, and Timothy’s blood ran suddenly cold. He dug his bare size 7 feet into the plush carpet and looked down, his eyes focused on the fuzzy growth of pale hair on his shins that had begun showing up in the past few weeks. His jaw moved, but he couldn’t say a word.

“You are, aren’t you?”

Timothy couldn’t speak. Frozen on the spot, he swallowed hard, his gaze locked into his mother’s steely gray eyes. All of his friends said that his mom was a babe, and this embarrassed him. She wasn’t a “babe,” she was “mom.” Add to that the fact that he was the new boy in town, and didn’t have that many friends yet. But when he looked at her, a young woman in the prime of her life, he gulped. He suddenly felt warm all over, and the contrast made him gasp again as he felt his penis stirring beneath his robe. At hardly five feet tall, he had to look up at her.
Then, dumbly, he nodded.

“I see,” she said, turning to go into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup, and sat down at the table.

Timothy stared at her, beginning to tremble. She’s said it in the ‘mom’ voice. Not a question, not an answer. Not a chat. It was the ‘mom’ voice, the voice that said ‘I’m pissed’ or ‘you really did it this time’. Then she looked up over the rim of her coffee mug and said, in the ‘mom’ voice, “Come over here and sit, Mister.”

Then, much to Timothy’s surprise, she didn’t start yelling at him. Instead, she launched into a dissertation on being a single mother in a new town with a new job that she loved and wanted so badly to keep. She went on about how hard it was, how bad it had been when Timothy’s father had died when he was so little and how good it would be now. She waxed philosophical on the problem of raising a boy when she’d come from a family of three other girls, and how she wished that she knew how to handle it alone and how hard she was trying.

Then, much to Timothy’s embarrassment, she started on the birds and the bees. The boy was too shocked and feeling too guilty and frightened to stop her, even though he already had seen “the film” at school long ago. The counselor had told the boys about anything they’d asked, including masturbation, and even some of the old myths about it. They’d laughed, of course, at some of those things, but the textbooks verified it. Sex, as they were being taught about it, hadn’t always been so open and easily explained.

Finally, after another two cups of coffee, she finished and sat staring at him. “At least we’re not religious,” she said with a note of contempt.

“Huh?” Timothy croaked.

“Religion. I don’t think you’ll go to hell for playing with it, even though you might break it off if you do it wrong.”

Timothy raised an eyebrow. Had she just really said that? He wasn’t a baby, he was thirteen. He knew it wouldn’t just break off.

But then he thought What if I do it wrong and DO hurt myself?

“Just don’t do it anymore,” she advised.
“W-why not?” he squeaked, his voice breaking with stress.
“Because I SAID so!” she replied in the ‘mom’ voice.
Her speech, however, had left him feeling guilty and all he could do was nod. She did work a lot, and he was old enough and had gone to bed hungry enough in the past to appreciate the value of money. The part about raising a boy alone and not being sure if she were doing it right struck a nerve in Timothy, however, and he didn’t know what to say. What could he say?

“I’m sorry,” he choked, “I won’t do it again.”
“I know,” she said in a dangerous tone, “Now gimme a kiss and go to bed and go to sleep.”
He did that, and as he was heading to his room, she called out, “And don’t play with it anymore tonight, either.”

Timothy closed his door and suddenly wished that it locked. He looked around his cluttered room, took off his robe, and noticed that he was hard again. He stepped over to his mirror and looked at himself, wanting to take his twitching penis in his hand but not daring to. His mother’s speech and what he’d learned in school clashed in his mind, and he thought of the things he’d read about past beliefs on “playing with yourself.”

Timothy was your average thirteen year old boy: active, healthy, prone to getting into trouble, but not a bad kid. He was of average build with brownish hair so light that it bordered on blond, cut in a floppy skater style that hung to his nose and required constant pushing out of the way. His only fault that was that he was a bit short, and his gray eyes, much like his mother’s, stared at the boy in the mirror who did the same thing.

He stared for a long time, watching that boy. He looked at the smooth face, the pursed red lips, the small and rounded ears in one of which he wore a silver loop earring. His eyes drifted down to the arms, and he noticed that he looked a bit thicker here and there. He flexed that arm, and watched as the biceps rose a bit.
Timothy was developing some muscles, and he smiled.
He then stared at the chest, counting ribs, although well fed, and down past the flat stomach that had since shed the soft look of a little child. His attention was drawn to his genitals, his penis stiff and still twitching in time to his pulse, and his balls hanging down below it, lower than normal, from the long hot bath and sitting for so long in the thick robe. There was a bit of hair there above his penis. Not much, but some. He knew that he wasn’t circumcised, which was unusual for American boys, but he didn’t mind. He’d never had a problem with it, and thought of cutting off any part of his “stuff” scared him. He wondered how anyone could do that to a boy and let his wander over that “stuff,” sighing in pleasure as his pulse quickened. It felt good, and he wondered at the strange new sensations that just touching himself could produce. He knew about “whacking off,” of course, the word that his friends like to use for masturbation, but he had not seriously tried it yet. In the past, all it had done was make him feel like he had to pee, and that was difficult enough to do in the mornings when he woke up with an erection.

“TURN OFF THAT LIGHT!” his mother shouted.

Timothy squeaked in surprise and did that, jumping into bed naked and pulling the covers up to his chin. He lay very still on his back, staring at the door. And as he knew it would, in a few minutes, it opened. His mother came over to the bed, bent down and tucked him in, then kissed his forehead.
Timothy felt his face flame and his penis harden to the point of hurting. I’m not a little kid anymore, he wanted to say, but he knew that that would only hurt her feelings. “Goodnight, mom,” he said instead.
“Goodnight, son,” she replied, getting up to go and closing the door behind her, “I love you.”

Timothy lay awake that night for a long time, his conscience howling and his erect penis aching.

His guilt and promise of not to “play with himself” lasted for all of three days. He was, as usual, in the bath when he gave in to his near perpetual erections and desires. He had soaked in the tub for all five minutes before he began playing with his foreskin, as usual. Of course, it felt very good, and as he manipulated his young organ this way and that, his hand began, almost of its own volition, to stroke the loose skin covering his erect four-inch member in a back and forth motion that he and his friends referred to as the classical “whackin’ off” action.
Timothy was amazed at how good he was beginning to feel, and the quickly-made and soon-forgotten promise of a young boy’s guilt soon vanished. Strange sensations began to come from his developing genitals, and as his hand continued its work, the feelings only got better. He felt a terrible pressure building up inside of him, and he felt as if something were getting ready to explode! Then his entire body began to tremble as he felt himself tightening up within and without. This frightened him, having never intentionally brought himself to climax before, but it didn’t stop him. His back then arched, as his lithe young body began, it seemed, to pump at his hand automatically. He splashed and slid backwards, bath water filling his ears and deafening him, and he choked and spit as his head went under. He then felt something hot shooting out of him, and his entire body convulsed again and again as he cried out in ecstasy mixed with fear.

This, naturally, got his mother’s attention. She arrived just as the next to last blasts of her son’s first ejaculation and orgasm were shooting up and out of the bubbles to splatter on the tiled walls of the bathtub. She watched, stunned, as her young son’s arm pumped at something under the bubbles. She knew what he was doing, and sighed, shaking her head and hoping that he didn’t drown himself. She then watched as the boy’s orgasm faded and he sat up, staring and feeling at himself in wonder.
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat.
Timothy whipped his head around, sending water slinging this way and that as he stared in horror at his angry mother. The look on his face was priceless.
“What AM I going to do with you?!” She demanded in the ‘mom’ voice, which chilled the boy to his very core.
“I-it’s the f-first time!” He stammered lamely.
“Oh is it?” she challenged.
“Mom, I-I ... it was, I swear! That never happened before!”
She turned and left, slamming the door, muttering to herself and leaving her shocked son to watch in amazement as the thick white trails of ejaculate made their way slowly down the tiles.

Over the next few weeks, Timothy tried hard not to masturbate. The feeling, however, had proven addictive and he failed at least once every other day. The usual problems of stained sheets, excessive use of Kleenex, and long baths began to make a solid case against him. He felt bad about doing it, but really didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. He knew that it upset his mother, yet it felt so good! He didn’t have any moral problems about doing it, since they weren’t religious, but it still made him feel guilty and confused. His almost perpetual erections, however, made it extremely difficult for him to think about anything else. His personal turmoil was only exacerbated by the fact that he KNEW that he was upsetting his mother in pleasuring himself.
His mother, however, seemed to notice her son’s predicament and did the best that she could. She tried not to make a huge production of it, but the more soiled laundry she found or the longer the wait for the bathroom in the evenings, the more frustrated she became. Every time she emptied the trash can and saw the pile of hardened Kleenex, she fumed. Finally, it began to wear on her and to show, even at work.
Eventually, some three weeks after Timothy’s first climax, her supervisor Marla came right out and asked, “Hon, why ARE you being such a bitch lately?”
Marla was a young lady of African descent, young and on the fast track up with the company. She spoke her mind, and when something in her office wasn’t right, she was on it.
“I don’t know. Well, it’s nothing. I’m sorry, Marla.”
Marla shook her head and sat down opposite the desk. “Let’s get take a coffee break and talk about it, Jane,” she advised.
“How do you do it?” Jane asked as they entered the breakroom.
“Do what?”
Jane shook her head and sipped the hot coffee. “Keep up. The job, the house, the kid. You have one, right? And you look so good too, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Marla smiled. “Work with it baby,” she advised, flexing her ample bosoms and stretching her toned legs out before her on the small couch. “As for the house, well, the menfolk know run that show! Mama ain’t happy, ain’t NOBODY happy! And hon, ol’ Marla can tell YOU ain’t happy.”
Jane leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “It my son, Timothy,” she replied.
Marla gestured, indicating for her to go on.
“I don’t know, Marla, it’s just that he’s ... well ... he’s a boy! He’s thirteen and a half, he’s in puberty, and he’s just ... what’s the words I want?”
But Marla was smiling, a wicked grin over the rim of her coffee mug. “He drivin’ you nuts, girl?” she asked in a knowing voice.
Jane nodded.
“Beat his ass!” She advised with some gusto.
Jane nearly spilled her coffee. “I haven’t spanked Timothy since, let’s see ...”
But Marla cut her off. “If’n you can’t remember the last time, it’s been too damn long, girl,” she stated flatly. “My boy Ty’s ‘bout that age, fourteen, and I blister his backside anytime!”
“But you have a husband to back you up?”
Marla nodded. “Woman don’ need no man tho, Janey. Nice to have around sometimes, but you lucky, hon. You can shop around! You let dat little boy who’s boss! What’s he doin’ got you so distracted? You can tell Marla.”
Jane blushed and looked away, but Marla caught the look.
“Ohhhhhhhhh,” she drawled, refilling her coffee cup, “He been playin’ wit it, have he?”
Jane sighed and nodded in embarrassment. She liked Marla well enough, but how well did she really know her? She hadn’t been on the job THAT long, and she hadn’t even gotten around to making any real friends yet! But here she was, telling her boss that her young son had a problem with masturbation!
Marla, however, just smiled knowingly. “On lunch, we be takin’ dis up again, girlfriend,” she stated, making it sound like an order. Then they went back to work, the short break over and Jane feeling perplexed.

During lunch, Marla again employed her uncanny ability to get Jane to open up. By the time fifteen minutes had passed, Marla had heard it all and was almost convulsed with laughter. Jane also had to admit that SHE felt better as well, but was still a bit embarrassed by the whole discussion. “What you both need is friends, Jane,” she then softly, reaching across the table to pat Jane’s trembling hands. “Why don’t you plan on bringin’ Timmy and yo’self over for dinner at my place tomorrow night?”
Jane protested, naturally, citing the usual reasons but Marla would have none of it. “Da’s what friend’s be for,” she advised. “You like lasagna?”
Jane nodded. By the end of the day, she felt like a new woman.

The evening went surprisingly well. Timothy took right up with Ty, who was a bit taller than he. He was just a bit older and bigger, but the boy seemed to have a very warm and outgoing attitude and took to Timothy right off. Jane watched them from the kitchen table where she sat with Marla and her husband Luther, sipping coffee. The two boys were deep into some violent Playstation2 game, which none of the adults understood.
Jane watched them intently, taking in the shape of Ty’s shaven head and noticing that his dark skin was bit paler than his mother’s; lighter and more red/yellow, like his father’s. She noted the gold loop earrings, one in each ear, and each with a red bead in the loop as he sat on the floor next to her son. He wore denim shorts and a white polo shirt, and his white socks shone in the light of the TV in stark contrast to his dark skin. He was a handsome boy, she thought, in contrast to her own son whose clothes were much looser and than Ty’s. I wish he’d learn to comb that mop of hair, she mused, staring at Ty’s shining scalp.
Then Ty’s character was killed, a bloody and spectacular death, and the boy got up. Jane noticed how tight his shorts were, how they clung to the curves of his round and somewhat protruding butt, and that they stopped well above the knees. His shirt was also snug, and it accentuated his adolescent muscles quite well. Timothy looks like such a slob next to him! she bemoaned silently. God, how’d I not notice it before? Those loose, baggy clothes and that haircut ...
“Hoooo girl, you scopin’ my boy?” Luther laughed at her, startling her out of her reverie.
Marla was grinning broadly.
“He ... he ... well, oh my! He just looks so clean cut and nice and ...”
But Marla interrupted. “Discipline!” she stated again, as Ty entered the room and stopped at the refrigerator.
“May we have sodas, Mom?” he asked in voice that wasn’t childish anymore, but not quite manly either.
Marla nodded. “Bring momma a warm up first though,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, coming over and refilling everyone’s cups. He then turned to go, and Jane gasped as Marla slapped his round little butt sharply. “Ain’t he just the cutest thang?” she asked.
Ty jerked and flashed her a smile, his perfect white teeth sparkling. He then got the sodas and left the room, and Jane noticed something odd about his step when he walked, almost as if he were trying to shake something loose and not be obvious about it. His round butt twisted as he walked, and he stepped briskly on the balls of his feet and his toes. His posture was straight and good, compared to Timothy, who slouched most of the time and dragged his heels.
Luther then cleared his throat. “Marla tells me you havin’ problems, Jane,” he said.
Jane looked at her new friend, flabbergasted. What had she said to him?! He was a man, for God’s sake! What would he think? Jane’s face flushed, but she nodded.
Luther smiled at her, so did Marla. “We had the same problems with Ty,” he explained, “attitude, sloppy, mouthy, not to mention horny!”
Jane blushed deeper, unable to believe that she was hearing this!
“So what did YOU do?” she finally asked, wanting to know.
Marla laughed. “Oh, after a few good whippin’s and some serious talks with the ol’ man, Ty settled right down - for a while! It’s not like he’s a bad boy, none of ‘em are, but they changin’ and so, and it’s rough. Not to mention embarrassin’ and all, listening to that carryin’ on-bed-squeakin’-moanin’-thinkin’-they-don’-know-I-be-doin’-it bullshit!”
“So we solved THAT problem, with a bit of help from Marla’s doctor,” Luther offered.
“Doctor?” Jane asked, perplexed. What did they do, get him fixed?
“Doc Lady got it goin’ on, girl,” Marla replied with a broad smile. “She can fix anything be goin’ wrong with a body! She knows all the tricks, and she got the answers.”
“You take your son to a female doctor?” Jane asked, glancing in the boys who were still playing. She noticed that while Timothy sat cross-legged on the floor, Ty knelt instead, his curious little butt resting on his heels.
“Of course,” Luther agreed, “Keeps a boy in line with a lady goin’ over him. He don’t try nothin’ with her!”
“But what about ... well ... MALE problems and such? Wouldn’t a male doctor be better?” Jane asked.
Luther shook his head, and Jane noticed for the first time how big he was as he got up and stretched, starting another pot of coffee. He was very well built and as her eyes wandered, she began to feel warm. Marla laid a hand on hers and laughed a rich, throaty laugh. “Da’s MY man, girl!” she said, laughing warmly.
Jane blushed again and Luther grinned at her. “We need to find you a man, hon?” he asked.
“Oh my no!” Jane replied.
Then Marla turned a bit more serious. “One thing at a time. First we need to help Jane here get Timmy in line.”
Jane chilled at the sound of the diminutive for ‘Timothy.’ He hated being called that.
“Have you had him in for a checkup since you moved here?” Luther asked.
Jane shook her head. “I just haven’t had the time,” she replied.
“Well, I can call her up and I bet she’d love to see him this week!” Marla announced.
Jane was stunned! Was there anything that this woman wasn’t on top of?
“Now,” Luther said, sitting back down, “Where were we? Oh, yes. Discipline. You have to let Timmy know who’s boss, Jane. You have to instill in him the fact that just because he’s fast-growin’ boy don’t make him the ruler of the roost!”
“He’s not so bad,” Jane said, looking back at the boys and their game, “It’s just that, well, for the most part I don’t have any problems with him. It’s just this one little issue and it’s ... well ... it’s so difficult for me!”
“Won’t be for Susan, Doctor Parker, that is. Susan Parker. She knows how to deal with boys that age and their issues. You just wait.”
Then Marla returned to the table. “Friday evening after work. She can’t wait to meet Timmy and discuss your problems with him.”
Jane was astonished. These people seemed to have the answer to all of her problems! She thought about it, and finally came right out and asked, looking back the boys again. “So how did you stop, I mean, I can’t believe I’m asking you this, Marla! But how did you stop Ty from ... you ... know ...”
Marla and Luther both laughed, looking at each other as if to say, “No, YOU tell her!”
Finally, Marla spoke, looking over the rim of her coffee mug as she had done at work.
“Oh, that’s simple, Janey! Ya see, Ty CAN’T masturbate anymore!”

All the way home, Jane pondered the strange evening and what Ty’s parents had told her. When they got home it was quite late, and Timothy went straight to bed. He complained about being booked for a doctor’s appointment, but eventually gave in on that issue in trying to please his mother. His mind hadn’t been the issues that they’d been having all evening, and he had talked endlessly about his new friend Ty all the way home. Jane wondered, as she kissed him goodnight, if he’d be so excited if he only knew what she did.
As she took to her own bed with a good book and cup of hot tea, Jane’s mind kept wandering back to the long, strange evening and Marla’s mysterious statement of “Ty CAN’T masturbate anymore.” WHY couldn’t he? What on earth kept him from it, and how was going to this doctor of theirs going to help resolve Timothy’s masturbation problem? And why did Marla keep referring to him as ‘Timmy?’ She hadn’t called him that since he was about nine or so, and he hated it. Finally, after a few chapters of mindless lust in the forests and groves of her romance novel, Jane fell asleep.
Timothy, however, couldn’t get to sleep. He knew it was late, but he was excited about having met Ty and having hit it off so well with him! Timothy thought that Ty was cool, and that was that. He couldn’t sleep, though. As he kept thinking about the boy with his shaven head and his cool earrings and his seemingly great parents and all of his cool STUFF, Timothy got hard again. By the pale light of his nightlight, he watched as the blankets tented up over his middle just as they did every night. He firmly pulled his arms out from under his blankets and put them atop. He thought about Ty again, and his penis hardened to the point of aching again. He wondered what Ty’s smooth scalp felt like, and he wondered how he’d look with his other ear pierced as well. Ty had both done, and Timothy thought that that looked cool.
The only thing that bothered him, though, was that Ty’s clothes seemed to be sort of small, especially his pants. He remembered how Ty’s butt looked, his snug shorts seeming to show it off in contrast to his own baggy clothing. Surely the boy knew how dorky that looked, but at the same time, there was something about it that made him feel strange. As he was laying there wondering about it, he felt his aching penis twitch. It felt different, and he gasped and turned on the light. He threw back the blankets, and since he slept naked, he didn’t have to take anything off to look. His eyes grew wide.
Leading from the tip of his uncut penis and attached to the blanket which lay just at his mid thigh, was a string of thick fluid. Very carefully, the frightened boy touched the tip of his rigid member and pulled back the already partially retracted foreskin. He groaned in fear as he touched the copious amount of fluid that had built up there since he’d gone to bed. What was it, and why was it leaking out of him? Was it because he’d finally done something wrong and hurt himself? Was he going to wet his bed? His face grew hot at that thought, and he pulled a Kleenex to wipe it off.
As he did so, his penis jerked and twitched, sending shocks of pleasure up through him. He moaned softly as he wiped it off, feeling as if the inside of the shaft were itching. There was, however, no way for him to scratch it and it was uncomfortable. He longed to take it in his hand and ‘whack off,’ but he didn’t want to. He did. He didn’t. He did.
He couldn’t decide, and suddenly he wondered if Ty had this same problem.
He squeezed it then, and a few more drops came out the end. He let go of it fast, and pulled his hand back, not knowing what to do.
After about one hour of torment, laying awake in bed with his penis aching and leaking, Timothy decided to just tell the doctor about it and hope for the best, not wanting to upset his mother anymore.

The next few days passed without much incident. Timothy gave in to his urges a few more times in the bath, but he was very careful to let the evidence go down the drain and keep quiet and be fast about it. He almost felt sick when he was done though. He kept thinking about Ty while he was playing with his penis, imagining doing it together, watching each other, wondering what Ty’s look like.
When school let out Friday afternoon, his mother picked him up and drove him straight to Doctor Parker’s office. Much to their surprise, there was no waiting and Timothy was called right back in. He’d been to the doctor enough times before and he knew the drill. Once in the exam room, he stripped to his shorts and put on the flimsy exam gown. The nurse, an older lady that reminded him of his Aunt, told him she’d be back shortly for his vital signs and a few questions and forms and such had to be filled out. Timothy nodded, and was ready and waiting well before she came back. His stomach pitched and rolled, and his throat tightened as he thought of what had been happening to him lately. He had no idea what was wrong with him, but he was certain that something WAS. He just didn’t know if he could say it, yet he knew that he had to say it.
He very nearly died of embarrassment when he felt himself getting an erection sitting on the table. He prayed for it to go away before the nurse came back, but it didn’t. He turned and tried to hide it.
Timothy kept his hands in front of him as he was questioned, weighed, checked for vitals. It was all ‘the usual,’ and his erection finally began to go down. The nurse frowned when she took his blood pressure and pulse, though. “Relax, son,” she advised, “Your signs are all over the place.” Timothy tried that, and she did it again. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said then, “YOU try and settle down. And don’t be so unwound about that erection, young man. You’re not the first male to find his penis, you know.” Then she left.
Timothy’s mouth fell open and then he laughed. Of course, she was a nurse! She’d seen it all, if not HIS, and he suddenly felt better. He was still laughing at himself when she came back.
“Better?” she asked, taking his vitals again.
Timothy nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m just new here and all,” he offered.
She wrote down the numbers. “That’s all right, hon. I know how it is. I raised four boys, FOUR, mind you, and trust you-me, I know! Now, hop back up on the table so I can take your temperature.”
The boy did that as well, wondering why he had to sit on the exam table for a temperature. He watched her root around in a drawer, and he heard her opening some things up. Sterile, he thought. Everything’s sealed up. Then she turned around, a rubber glove on one hand and a rounded, blunt and long thermometer in the other. As she came closer, Timothy noticed that there was something slimy all over the finger of her glove.
“Well, roll over,” she ordered.
Timothy swallowed hard and did that, suddenly realizing where he was to have his temperature taken from. His penis began to harden at the thought, pressing uncomfortable down into the hard padding of the table. He felt her pull up his gown, felt the chill on his exposed butt as she pulled his shorts down a bit. He gasped as he felt the finger, cool and slimy, touch his anus. He flinched, but didn’t dare move as she began to spread the lubricant on him. He flinched harder, however, and yelped, when he felt the finger begin to penetrate him. “Almost there,” she reassured him, moving her finger back and forth.
Timothy felt his face going red, and he began to sweat as she moved the finger in, then out. Then she slid the thermometer into him, and released his shorts with a snap. He yelped again, and his erect penis throbbed painfully under his weight.
“Now you lay there and don’t move at all,” she warned. “The doctor will be right in.”
Timothy lay there for what seemed like forever, his ass muscles clenching around the thermometer. Never mind the fact that it was cold. Finally, the doctor came in and pulled it out, snapping the elastic of his shorts again.
“Hello there, Timmy, I’m Dr. Parker” she said. Timothy didn’t look up. He hated being called that. “Nice to meet you,” she continued. “Ah, 98.9, fine! So, what’s wrong with you?”
Timothy rolled onto his side, covering his butt again. As he rolled back over, he was stunned to see a small wet spot on the front of his gown and on the paper over the pad on the exam table. He stared at it. At least the problem was out in the open.
“I see,” the doctor said in an interested voice, “Well, that’s a problem. Is that it?”
Timothy nodded dumbly, simply wanting to crawl under the table and die. Dr. Parker was a very nice looking and tall lady, with dark hair styled up and wearing a short lab coat over a skirt. Her legs were well toned, her waist narrow, and her bosom ample. She smiled, and Timothy blushed harder. Devastatingly gorgeous didn’t even begin to describe her, and his penis throbbed painfully.
“OK, Timmy. I hate to do this to you, but get naked. I’ve seen plenty of boys before and I can fix just about anything.”
Timothy was too scared to move. His jaw hung open and he simply stared. All he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears.
“One of those, hmm? OK,” she replied, reaching around and pulling the tie of the gown. In a second, Timothy was in his white briefs only, which showed a considerable dark spot in the front. Dr. Parker smiled and suddenly reached out and tickled his ribs. Timothy jumped and began to laugh, surprised, as she rolled him back and yanked his briefs down. His erect penis stood at full attention, pulsing with his heart, with a long string of precum attached to it. “Now, stand up and try not to die on me,” she asked.
The embarrassed boy did that, and winced as she bent down to examine his genitals. She looked at her chart. “Thirteen and six months,” she read, “no history of serious illness, no injuries?” Timothy shook his head, his hair waving and falling in his face. “Needs a haircut,” she jotted. “Nice earring. I like it. Now,” she stated, grasping his scrotum, “Turn your head and cough.”
He did that too, face still flaming. He’d never had a lady doctor before. He then gasped and groaned as she began to squeeze his balls, working her way up the cords and finally to his penis. She squeezed it hard, pulling up on it, and then suddenly sticking a small paper tab under it to catch some of the ooze. “We’ll test that. Now, how do like needles? Do you pass out?”
He shook his head, and his hair flopped. He brushed it back.
“Good, I’m going to take some blood too.”
Timothy sat back down on the exam table, unable to believe what had just happened. The familiar feelings of wanting to explode had built up in him during the exam, and he realized that he’d almost shot his load at her!
He cried out a bit when she took the blood, but once it was over, he recovered himself.
“Now, Timmy, about this excitement of yours. Does this happen often? Do you masturbate?”
The boy nodded.
“Can you speak?”
“Yea,” he mumbled, face still red.
“Is this the only problem you seem to have?”
He nodded again.
“How often? Are you this sexually aroused all the time? It says here that you masturbate a great deal.”
“I ... I ... well ... about once every other day?” he stammered.
“But you TRY not to?”
He nodded. “I just can’t help it!” He blurted.
“Do you shoot, or is it dry? I noticed some hair starting down there, and some on your shins. Your voice is changing too. Any pains or discomfort?”
“It hurts when I get hard, really hard,” he said, “And sometimes I get hard and stay hard and it just won’t go away! It’s like that every morning, and I can hardly pee. And it leaks a lot too, like it did here.”
“WHEN do you get hard, Timmy?” she asked, and he wished she wouldn’t call him that.
“All the time,” he said glumly.
“You don’t like it then?”
“I hate it!” he cried, looking away. “I can’t stop myself, and it upsets my mom. I don’t wanna do it, but I have to! It feels so good, and if I don’t, it hurts. Sometimes, if I don’t do it before I go to sleep, I shoot in my sleep and it makes a big mess.”
The boy seemed near tears, and Susan Parker nodded. He wasn’t the first boy with this problem, but she knew how to solve it.
“Well, I hate to ask, Timmy, but I also need a good semen sample. That’s what you shoot out when you cum. Now, when was the last time you shot your load?”
“Night before last,” he admitted, “in the tub.”
“Good cover, a bath,” she agreed, “easy cleanup too. Now, I want you to take a Dixie cup there, and go into the side room here and whack off for me. Make SURE you get it ALL in the cup. Can you do that?”
Timothy stared at her. “Do what?!” he almost screamed.
“You heard me. Do you need help?” she replied in a seductive, movie star voice.
The boy shook his head and ran to the other room, his penis throbbing and his heart racing. He took a moment to settle down, then did as he was told. The thought of her helping was too much to handle, and he shot off his load into the cup within a few minutes. He moaned in pleasure as he shot, his body jerking and shaking as his hand worked. It didn’t feel the same though, standing up, he noticed. His penis then began to deflate, and he came back out as it was wilting. She took the cup, then told him to get back up on the table.
He did that, and she began poking and pressing at him all over. “When you get hard, Timmy, what are you thinking about?”
“Huh?”
“Girls, women, boys?”
“I’m not queer!” he snapped.
“I never said you were, kiddo,” she replied, feeling at his neck.
“Lots of stuff,” he said glumly. “Mostly just me though and how good it feels.”
“Well,” she said, patting his stomach a few times and jabbing his ribs again which made him laugh despite himself, “You seem to be fine. I do, however, want you to stay here for a bit. In fact, I’ll call your mom in and tell her too. In fact, the office connects to my house in case you didn’t notice.”
“Nice house, too,” he added.
“Thank you. Now, I have a few more tests I want to do, and you need to stay here and DON’T go whacking off again until I tell you to! My nephew, Rand is in town for a bit, since his school’s already on break, and I have a whole raft of things that you boys can do for fun for several hours. Then you can come back here, and I’ll check you over again. That is, just as soon as I take some measurements. I can order pizza?”
“Huh?”
“Dinner. Rand will want to eat tonight, and I assume you do too since you have to stay. That, and well, I can’t cook,” she confessed.
“Oh, ok,” Timothy agreed. “Can I get dressed now?”
“As soon as I measure you.”
She did that, measuring EVERYTHING as if fitting him for a custom suit. She even measured his balls, and his soft penis, which hardened shortly afterwards. She measured that too, much to his surprise. “Well within textbook norms,” she said, smiling. Timothy flushed and got dressed, anxious to be gone. As he was walking out, however, he discovered that no one had wiped the lube off of his anus and that he could still feel it. Then, much to his surprise, he got hard again. Very hard. He adjusted himself and followed Dr. Parker’s directions out the back door and across the small lawn to her house.
She watched him out the window as he walked, adjusting himself. “Oh, I’ll cure YOU, Timmy boy. Just like I cured Rand and Ty and every other boy I work on!”

Timothy knocked on the door to the large house, and gaped in wonder at it. It was a Victorian, and fully restored. It was easily the largest house he’d ever seen, and the front porch alone would contain his entire room. The door opened, and a boy of his own age and size stood there smiling at him. He had red hair cut into a very short buzz and freckles, and he wore a tight white polo shirt much like Ty’s had been. He also wore the same snug fitting type shorts, only his were khaki and not denim. He smiled, and his braces flashed in the evening sunlight which made him look a bit yellow. He did not, however, look pale like other redheads Timothy had met. He wasn’t overly muscular, but the boy saw that he was better built than he was. Timothy noted that he also had both ears pierced, with earrings just like Ty’s.
“Hi! I’m Rand!” He said, sticking out his hand.
Timothy shook it, impressed with his grip. He shifted his feet as got hard again, wondering why it was happening. “Come on in,” he said, “Aunt Susan called and said you were coming. She said you had to spend some time here for some test later?”
Timothy nodded, and followed Rand through the foyer and into a large room. They then turned and headed up the stairs. Timothy noticed that Rand seemed to walk on the balls of his feet and toes, with a spring in his step much like Ty did. He thought it reminded him of a fast walk to the bathroom when you had to shit and just didn’t know if you’d make it or not.
When they rounded the corner at the head of the stairs, Rand turned right and opened a door. “This is my room,” he offered, ushering Timothy in.
It was paradise. Everywhere that Timothy looked was everything a boy could dream of! There was a bigscreen TV, VHS / DVD player, a killer sound system, and several different varieties of video gaming systems. There was also a computer with a large, flat-screen monitor and a thermal dye sub printer! Rand had bunk beds with air mattresses, even, and enough space for his own sofa! He also had a small refrigerator, stocked with soda and junk food.
“Uh, can you eat or did Aunt Susan say not to?” Rand asked.
“I don’t know,” Timothy replied. About then, something beeped loudly.
Rand walked over to the door, opened it back, and punched an intercom button. “Yes, Aunt Susan?” he asked.
“I take it that Timmy is there?” she inquired.
“Yes, ma’am,” Rand replied, and Timothy wondered at the timing. How did she KNOW if she was talking to his mom?
“Keep him entertained dear. He’s going to be with us for the evening until I test him out later. Oh, and I forgot to tell him, no food until dinner tonight. He can have a soda if he wants, clear I’d prefer, but no junk food! And that goes for YOU too, Rand!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he repeated. “Is that all?” he asked in a sweet voice.
“No, Rand. You be good boys now until I get there. I’d hate to have to spank you!”
The intercom beeped and the channel closed. “Has anyone told her you’re not five or six lately?” Timothy asked.
“Be nice, Timmy, it IS her house,” Rand replied.
“Don’t call me that,” Timothy snapped, still perplexed and annoyed by his greasy feeling asshole and his pounding erection.
Rand stared at him, then he blinked as if realizing something. “I’m sorry, dude. No offense?”
Timothy immediately felt bad and hung his head. “I’m sorry, Rand. I don’t feel real good and I’m scared. I didn’t mean anything. I just hate that name.”
Rand laid his hand on Timothy’s shoulder and squeezed it. “My fault,” he replied, and Timothy winced as he felt his penis grow even harder to the point of hurting. He could also feel it getting wet on the end again, and that worried him. Rand’s room had much to offer, however, and he was soon distracted and getting his ass kicked by the redhead on a game of Twisted Metal 4.
After about an hour, Timothy got up to go pee. As he walked towards the door to Rand’s private bathroom, he looked back and noticed that Rand knelt in front of the TV, his butt cheeks just resting on the heels of his white socks. Ty sits the same way, Timothy thought, going in to relieve himself. He also had to lift the seat of the toilet, which he found strange. He knew he had a bad habit of leaving it up, and his mom was always on him about that. But then again, Rand seemed to be a very polite and well disciplined boy.

They quickly lost all track of time in Rand’s room. It seemed like only a few moments until the intercom beeped again and Dr. Parker was summoning Timothy back to the office for his last round of tests. He looked at Rand, taking in the symmetry of his face and noticing the freckles that splattered across his nose and up his cheekbones. He looked good with the buzzcut, and when he smiled, his braces flashed again. Timothy noticed that his eyes were a strange shade of hazel, and they seemed to sparkle. “You comin’ back?” Rand asked anxiously, and Timothy felt himself getting hard again.
What the hell’s this happening for? he wondered to himself, scared of what kind of test he was going to have to endure.
“Dunno,” he replied, “Why?”
Rand looked away, his expression pained. “I just don’t know that many guys here, and well, all my friends are back home. I just get sent here when school’s out. We’re out for the summer already, you know, and I don’t have anything to do.” There was, however, a note of almost pleading in his voice, something that almost seemed to say ‘please say yes’.
How can you be bored with all this STUFF? Timothy wondered.
“If your Aunt doesn’t kill me, I’ll ask. Deal?”
Rand turned back, his face seemingly transfigured. He smiled again, and Timothy shook his hand. It was warm, and his penis began to ache. He didn’t understand it, and THAT bothered him.

When Timothy arrived back the office, it was past six o’clock and everyone but the Doctor was gone. She ushered him back to the exam room, where he found his mom waiting. He was informed that when the test was done, he was going to back to Susan’s and Rand’s house, if that was ok with him. Jane stated, rather happily, that she and Marla were going out for a night on the town. Timothy readily agreed. It sounded like a great plan to him! Jane then kissed her son goodbye and left.
“Have a good time!” Susan called after her.
“Mom never goes out!” Timothy stated, stripping his clothing off and reaching for the gown.
“Underwear too,” Susan advised.
Timothy flushed. His white shorts once again had the wet spot in the front of them, and his penis hardened as he pulled them off.
“I’m sorry,” he offered lamely.
Susan waved a hand at him in dismissal. “I can’t fix what ain’t broke, so they tell me,” she offered. “If you weren’t like this, you wouldn’t BE here now would you?”
Timothy stuttered out a vague ‘guess not’ reply and just stood there. Susan then took his vitals again, and Timothy was humiliated once again by the rectal thermometer and the fact that this throbbing penis left a good sized wet spot on the table covering again.
“Same symptoms hours later,” she noted, “Now, go whack off and try to fill up the cup.”
“Huh?!”
“Just teasing. Go do it, Timmy. Or do you need help?”
Timothy ran to the bathroom and did his duty in record time, his thoughts on Rand while he was stroking his aching penis. His anus still felt greasy from the rectal thermometer, and reached down to touch it out of curiosity as he continued to stroke himself. To be given permission, even TOLD to masturbate, was almost too good to be true! Still, he wondered why he was thinking of RAND as he did it, but when he came, he almost missed the cup as the simple touch of his finger to his greased anus sent him over the edge. He had stretched himself out on the cool tile floor this time, and the orgasm that shook his young body was one of the best that he’d ever had. It took all of his wits to aim at the cup, and very nearly failed. He was red faced and panting, as was his wilting penis, when he came back out.
Susan was tapping her foot when he came out. “About time,” she stated, taking the cup. “I thought you were in pain in there!”
Timothy flushed and then remembered his ass. “Can I go wipe this stuff off?” he asked.
His heart skipped a beat as Susan said, “No. Up on the table. We’re almost done.”
He wondered why as he climbed back up. Susan positioned him on his knees, facing down, with his butt towards her. “Timmy, do ever put things up you ass?” she asked.
“NO!”
“Just asking is all. Don’t get pissy with me, young man!” She admonished, smacking his ass smartly with her open palm.
“OWWW! You can’t hit me!”
“I have a signed paper from your mother, here Timmy, that says I can do anything I need to do to cure you of your ailment. Disrespect is part of it. Would like another?”
“No!” he replied, softly.
“No what?”
He thought of Rand, and guessed. “No, ma’am?”
“Better.” She said, snapping on a rubber glove and lubing it.
“Wh-what’r you gonna do to me now?” he asked in a quivering voice.
“You had some lube on your finger when you came out from jerking off, Timmy. I need to examine your anus and rectum. You say you don’t play with it?”
“No, I never have, ma’am,” he remembered.
She patted his butt cheek gently. “That’s a good boy,” she praised him as she lubed his hole. Then she slowly inserted one finger, moving it in and out very slowly. She applied more lube, and Timothy groaned and shivered. He clenched his teeth, his eyes teared up, and he suddenly began to feel very good as the whole length of Susan’s gloved finger entered him. He moaned.
“Does that hurt?” she asked, moving the finger around.
“N-not r-really,” he managed from between clenched teeth. He was beginning to sweat, and his penis was growing erect again.
“You’re getting hard, again, Timmy,” she told him
“Please don’t call me that, Doctor,” he asked, his voice pleading.
Timothy then let out a yelp as she shoved her finger in further. “I’ll call you ‘Timmy’ if I like, Timmy. You don’t think I call my nephew Randall do you?”
“No ma’am!” the boy agreed, his face flaming and his erect penis beginning to drool as she examined his rectum.
She noted that as well, marking the time and the test. She then withdrew her finger a bit, shifted it, and pressed against the boy’s small prostate.
Timothy went rigid, then shook. His eyes popped open and he cried out very audibly. “Wh-what’s that?” he choked as the tears began. It felt so good, and he’d never felt anything like it before! She continued to touch him up in there, rubbing at it, and his penis drooled precum. The spot on the exam table grew larger, and she collected a sample with her free hand.
“THAT is your prostate, Timothy. The curse of manhood. Causes boys and men no end of trouble. It may feel good now, but you just wait a few years. It DOES feel good, doesn’t it?”
“Y-yes ma’am,” the boy confessed, embarrassed beyond belief that he was hard and drooling precum and liking it as the doctor gently slid in yet another finger. She worked his anus slowly, stretching it gently, until both fingers were up inside of him working at his prostate. He moaned and shivered, and then felt the beginnings of the internal tightenings that meant that he was about to shoot.
“You’re about to cum, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, doctor,” the boy cried, his tears making another wet spot on the table.
“That’s what I want to know, Timmy. IF you can come by anal stimulation. If you do, it’s a bad sign.”
“WHY!?” he screamed, his anus tightening its grip on her fingers.
“Because boys who cum like this are usually very sick boys,” she noted. “Sick, as in perverted. I might as well tell you that I specialize in boys like you. Like Ty, like Rand ... like about a dozen other boys in this town and some from out of town even! I have quite the clientele. Fortunately for the boys, all you need is a little discipline.”
By the time she finished her explanation, however, Timothy had begun to orgasm. It felt different, weaker somehow, and it was very strange that his penis was getting no stimulation at all. His body shivered and he cried out again, his anus clenching down hard on the fingers that were violating it. The spasms of pleasure shook him again, not half an hour after jerking off, and he came.
He fired off two shots of thin watery fluid on the table, and the third was mostly clear and leaked weakly from stiff penis. He wanted to stroke it, to hold and jerk it, but he couldn’t or he’d fall on his face. Dr. Parker kept at his prostate, however, working at it until the last bit of fluid had dripped from his penis. It was still hard when she finished and withdrew her fingers.
Timothy collapsed on the table, frightened and confused. He couldn’t believe what she’d just done to him, and obviously with his mother’s consent! He felt betrayed, violated, and dirty. Yet he also felt good, having cum twice in such rapid succession. His ass felt loose and open, which was strange, and he felt empty somehow. He heard the doctor snort in disgust.
“How are your bowel habits?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“How often do you shit, Timmy?”
“Ev-every day, ma’am,” he replied. What did THAT have to do with anything?
“Well, you need a good cleaning out,” she stated. “Now go wipe off, get dressed, and hurry it up. It’s almost seven, and I’m sure Rand is getting hungry and bored by now. We’ll tend to your bowels later.”
Timothy did as he was told, anxious to see Rand to ask him if he knew what was going on and to try and call his mom.I’m NOT a pervert! he kept telling himself.

When they arrived back home, Rand greeted his Aunt with a broad smile and hugged her. She hugged him back, and kissed him just below his right ear. “Did you order dinner?” she asked.
Rand nodded, still smiling. Then he looked at the crestfallen Timothy. “Is he OK, Aunt Susan?” he asked, his smile disappearing.
“No, sweetheart, he’s not. He’s going to stay the night though, and we’ll make him feel better, won’t we? Now, you did order breadsticks too, right?”
“Yes ma’am!” Rand beamed, prancing in place on the balls of his feet. “Can he eat?”
“Yes, he can, but only a bit. I think his colon might need some work,” she observed, staring at Timothy, who stood staring down at his scuffed sneakers. “Kick off your shoes, Timmy. Go with Rand upstairs. We’re not formal for dinner, especially pizza delivery. You can freshen up a bit, then we’ll eat. Your clothes are bit messy, so Rand will loan you some sweats, wont’ you, dear?”
“Can I call my mom, please?” he almost begged.
“She’ll call when she’s ready to check up on you, Timmy. Not before. Now go, both of you! Upstairs!”
They did as they were told, and Rand offered his new friend a gray sweatsuit that while not tight, wasn’t as loose as Timothy liked either. He went into the bathroom, alone, to change. He washed his face and hands, his arms, then stripped off his underwear to wash his genitals and to get the remaining lube off of his butt. He could still feel it up inside of him, however, and as he washed, got an erection. “I fuckin’ hate this,” he swore softly, cleaning up as best he could and deciding that he’d need to borrow a pair of undershorts from Rand as well. He wrapped up in a towel and poked his head out the door. But when he asked, the redhead looked puzzled.
“Shorts? Underwear, you know, briefs?”
Rand shook his head. “Don’t have any.”
“Huh?” So what holds his balls up? Timothy wondered.
“Don’t have ‘em. Don’t wear ‘em.”
“Why?”
“Don’t need ‘em.” How can you NOT need ‘em?
Timothy shrugged and didn’t ask. He’d had a strange enough day as it was, and if Rand didn’t wear briefs, he didn’t want to know why. He dressed in the sweatsuit and a pair of borrowed socks and hoped for the best.

The pizza arrived as they were coming down the stairs, and Timothy was watching Rand’s springy step as they descended. He wanted to ask him about that, but he didn’t know how. His own step was a bit awkward, as his butt felt funny, but he tried to ignore it. He was thankful to finally sit down at the table, so that no one would see if he got a hard-on again. The fact that he wasn’t wearing underwear, since his were wet in the front and smelled a bit, didn’t help.
He was allowed two pieces of pizza, one breadstick, and one Sprite. He was still hungry when done, but Susan had strictly ordered his meal, and he wasn’t about to question her. He tried not to look at her during dinner, focusing his gaze instead upon Rand, who sat across the table from him and seemed unable to sit still on his chair.
“Stop squirming,” Susan told him between bites. “You look like you have ants in your pants.”
“Yes, ma’am, sorry!” he replied with a broad grin. He winked at Timothy, and the boy ducked his head to finish eating. When he was done, Rand pushed his plate aside as well. “May we be excused, Aunt Susan?” he asked.
“Yes, dear. Run along upstairs. I’ll be up shortly to give Timothy his last test for the night soon.”
Timothy cringed and followed Rand. He watched him as they went up the stairs, noting the spring in his step. When they reached his room, Timothy flopped on the sofa with a sigh. “YOU could have ate more,” he said.
“That woulda been rude,” Rand replied, kneeling in front of him and turning on the Playstation2. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m scared, is all. What’s she gonna do to me next? There’s nothing left to do!”
Rand shook his head, his earrings swinging a bit. “You get a full going over?”
Timothy nodded.
“Cleaned out?”
Timothy looked up sharply. “No! What’s that?”
Rand blushed. “Well, it means you either get a greasy little pill shoved your butt, or you get ...”
“Boys?!” came a voice from the door, silencing Rand.
Timothy gasped and looked up. Susan entered the room, smiling. “The greasy little pill is what I had in mind, yes,” she stated.
Rand blushed deeper red. “I’m sorry, Aunt Susan. I didn’t mean anything by it!” Timothy caught the note of fear in his voice and wondered. Something strange was going on, but he couldn’t figure it out. He saw Susan crook a finger at him, and he got up and followed her into Rand’s bathroom.
“Strip, please,” she ordered, closing the door.
Timothy did that.
“Kneel down,” she said.
His heart nearly stopped. Tears came to his eyes and he looked up at her, his penis growing erect again. “Please, not again!” he begged.
Then she laughed, holding up a small capsule about the size of a small bite-size pickle. She thought it was funny! Timothy breathed a sigh of relief when she told him that there would be no more prostate checks that nights, no more anal exams, and no more milkings, as she called them. “All we’re going to do is put this up inside of you. It’s a suppository, not a ‘greasy little pill,’ and it will make you go. It will help clean you out. That’s all it does.”
“Promise?” Timothy said in a weak voice, his face still wet with tears.
She bent down and gently put a dab of lube on his anus. “Timmy, I don’t want to hurt you. I only want what your mom wants - to help you get over this. You need help, Timmy, not hurt. No boy should ever hurt like you do, suffer like you do. Aunt Susan will make it all better, if you just trust me.”
“Ok,” he whispered, as his penis began to throb and ache as he pushed the suppository into him. It wasn’t’ that bad.
“Now just go play with Rand, and when you feel like you have to go, wait a bit. When it gets bad, then you go. OK?”
“Yes ma’am,” the boy agreed, pulling his borrowed pants back on.
“Then when you’re ready for bed, Aunt Susan will come tuck you in and make sure you’re all safe and secure and you can go to sleep. You’ll feel so much better by tomorrow, I promise! It’s Saturday, and we’ll all have fun!”
Something in her voice, however, frightened Timothy and he was so unwound that Rand kicked his ass bad at Twisted Metal again.

The first cramp hit Timothy about twenty minutes later. He looked up at Rand as his stomach began to churn. He held his side, and waited. In another five minutes, he got up and dashed to the bathroom, running on his toes. He almost didn’t make it, and by the time he was done, he was exhausted. He had NEVER shit like that in his life, and the cramps during the entire ordeal had had him crying in pain. He wasn’t sure, even, if he hadn’t lost something important that he might need later.
When he returned, he was pale and shaken. He sat down next to the kneeling Rand, but couldn’t get back into the game. Finally, he gave up. “I’m sorry, Timothy,” Rand offered, turning the game off.
“Why?” he asked weakly, stretched out on the floor.
“I shouldn’t have beat you so bad.”
Timothy opened his eyes and looked at him. Rand’s face was pained, and the boy looked as if he were about to cry. It was very strange, Timothy thought, how considerate and polite his new friend was. It was also strange the way he talked to his Aunt, some of the things that she’d said to him, not to mention the way he walked and the fact that he had said that he didn’t wear undershorts of any kind.
“It’s not your fault, Rand,” he said. “I don’t feel good, and that suppository didn’t do much for me.”
“At least it wasn’t an enema,” the redhead replied, then flinched a bit as he looked around. It appeared that he somehow knew that he’d just screwed up.
“What’s an enema?” Timothy asked, just as the door opened.
Rand paled as his Aunt walked in. “Talking medical are we?” she asked in a dangerous tone.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry. I was just trying to make Timothy feel better is all.”
“That’s MY job, young man,” she admonished. “How DO you feel, Timmy?” she asked.
“Empty, I think. I cramped bad, but it’s over now,” he replied.
“Good,” she nodded, glaring at Rand, “I think you can get ready for bed now. You’ll help him, won’t you, Rand?” she ordered, rather than asked.
“Me?” he squeaked, his face paler.
She nodded. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow afternoon. I’m tired, boys. I’m going to run a bath now, and when I get back, I expect to find you under those blankets ready to be tucked in!”
Something inside of Timothy screamed just then, told him to dive out a window if need be. He ignored it though, curious as to ‘getting ready for bed’ with Rand’s help. He turned, and as she closed the door, he started getting hard again.
When the door closed, Rand began taking off his sweats. “Hurry up! I don’t have time to explain it, so just do it, please!?”
“Sure,” Timothy agreed, beginning to strip despite his erection.
He wasn’t sure how far to go, but since he usually slept naked, and Rand’s Aunt WAS his doctor, he got naked. Rand took a bit longer, reluctant to pull off his pants. When he did, his butt was towards his new friend. Timothy stared, his penis erect and pounding.
Rand hadn’t gotten totally naked. He was still wearing what looked like a jock, only it had a wide thick belt and padded straps that ran down below his butt cheeks. It looked pretty much like a padded jock, and when he turned, Timothy thought that it was a protective cup. He also two thinner, flat straps crossing in front of Rand’s asshole, but he wasn’t sure as the boy turned again. He stared as Rand turned. There wasn’t a hair on his smooth body anywhere, and his developing musculature showed.
The front of the thing that Rand was wearing looked like a cup, but it was black. It was padded at the edges, and it was also flat. It looked as if it allowed NO room for the boy’s genitals, and there was NO bulge. It fit very snugly, and the cup came up to join with the waist band almost under Rand’s innie type navel. He then reached into his drawer and tossed one to Timothy, nodding, his eyes pleading as he glanced around the room.
Timothy then realized something. The room had to be bugged! Every time that Rand said something out of line, or something was about to happen, his Aunt showed up! Timothy nodded. His penis was still erect however, and it took a few nervous minutes for it to soften enough to force inside the confining jock-type supporter. Once he had it on, he settled himself into it. It felt as if his balls were being pressed up against his groin, and his penis was crushed in with nowhere to go. As if sensing this, he got soft. THAT felt better. He then squirmed into it a bit, and Rand came over to check it. His friend grasped the waistband and pulled in with both hands. It got tighter and clicked twice. He then pulled at the leg straps, reaching back behind Timothy’s thighs. The clicked as well as the thing snagged up against him. His didn’t have the other two crossing straps, though.
He felt the soft padding pressing on him, and then Rand pushed the heel of his hand up against the front, right where his nuts were! Timothy gasped, but the thing obviously served as protection, too. It clicked again. “There!” Rand stated triumphantly, “That’s just right!”
“What are we doing?” Timothy asked in a confused but curious tone.
“Getting ready for bed,” Rand replied, as if he thought that his new friend should know that.
“And we wear this to bed?”
Rand nodded. “Is it too tight?”
Timothy squirmed, and suddenly felt his left nut yield to the pressure. It slipped up his inguinal canal. He gasped and looked at Rand. “I think it is, Rand. My nut just slid up inside of me, and my dick’s got nowhere to go.” He then looked at the front of it further. “How do I pee?” he asked tugging at it.
Then Timothy realized that he couldn’t get it down over his hips. It was stuck!
Rand smiled wanly. “You sit and pull the little plug on the very back bottom of it.”
“I can’t get it off!” Timothy cried, struggling as his right nut slid up on him. He felt himself beginning to get excited, and then he started to get hard. His penis, however, had nowhere to go!
“Both nuts up on ya?” Rand asked.
Timothy nodded. “Rand, what’s going on?” he asked nervously as his throbbing penis found no way to get fully hard. It hurt like hell.
“Push on the front one more time,” Rand suggested. Timothy did that, and the front clicked and pulled in closer to his body. It felt as is if the entire device had tightened. He gasped again.
“What about my balls?” he demanded.
“They’re safe up inside of you now,” Rand stated as if nothing were wrong.
Timothy stared down at the thing that seemingly imprisoned his genitals. “How do you get out of it?” he asked.
“You can’t,” Rand replied mournfully.
Timothy felt his own face pale then, and the door opened. Obviously, Rand had NO privacy. Susan entered the room in her long red robe, smiling. “You did that very, very well, Rand!” She praised him, patting his butt cheek. “And since you got Timmy into his device with no problems at all, I’m not going to spank you after all!”
Rand breathed a long sigh of relief, almost in tears. “Thank you, Aunt Susan,” he cried, and she embraced him. As he turned his back to him, Timothy saw the cross straps in front of his friend’s asshole again. Then Rand turned back around, and Susan looked up at him. Timothy’s eyes went wide.
“That was very good of you to save Rand from a whipping, Timmy,” she told him. “Now, into bed, both of you!”
“Uh, Aunt Susan?” Rand asked in a tone that was almost a whimper.
“Yes, dear?”
“I have to go, please.”
Susan sighed. “But it’s early bedtime!” Rand protested. I always go now, and you said I should do it the same time every day! I’m sorry!”

Timothy couldn’t believe what he was hearing! Rand had to ASK permission to go the bathroom? It was crazy! He desperately wanted to put his rumpled clothing back on, and device or not, run! He wanted to go home, where at least he could pee when he wanted to! Sick or not, he wasn’t so sure now. Things just weren’t right!

“You’re right, Rand,” she replied, surprisingly, pushing him towards the bathroom door. “We’ll be right in. Don’t you think your little friend should see this? I mean, after all, he’s showing the same symptoms that YOU did!”
Rand looked at both of them, his face paling again. He went into the bathroom, and when Susan arrived pushing Timothy in front of her, he had laid out a towel and a tube of lubricant and a pair of gloves. He also had a bottle of orange soap ready, and another towel.
Timothy stared, all abstracted as if watching a movie. Rand got on his knees on the towel, and his Aunt put the gloves on. She then pulled out a small key from her pocket and inserted it into a hidden hole in the back of Rand’s belt. It turned and clicked once, loosing the leg straps just a bit. Susan then loosened the freed up cross straps, then reached for Rand’s anus. Timothy could then see a ring of some kind between the boy’s butt cheeks, and he gasped as Susan began to pull on it.
Rand moaned and shook a bit as she pulled back, exposing something! Rand had something IN his ass! Timothy thought back to his own rectal exam and trembled. Rand had obviously had whatever was being pulled out of him UP inside of him all day! When it was free, Timothy saw that it was a black rubber cone-shaped plug, about two inches wide and five inches tall. It looked greasy as Susan put it in the sink and ran hot water over it. She soaped it, and let it soak. Rand got slowly to his feet, his hole still open quite a bit, and sat down on the commode. He reached down, face flaming, and pulled the small plug he’d mentioned at the lower front of the restraining device.
As Timothy heard him urinating, he realized what the device was for !
There was no way that Rand, or himself, could even touch his genitals! Susan had the key, and there was no way to take the thing off without it! It was also clear, then, that Rand’s belt - for lack of a better word - could also hold that black plug thing up his ass, and there was NOTHING he could do about it!
No wonder he walks so funny! Timothy thought. And the threat of a whipping? What KIND of whipping?! NO wonder he was so polite! Then he remembered something else - Ty walked the exact same way, on the balls of his feet and the tips of his toes!
“It’s all part of the treatment,” Susan stated, smiling and putting the key back in her pocket. “It’s so useful on sick boys like you all! Now, let’s let Rand finish his business. When he’s done relieving his bowels, he has to scrub off his plug and get it ready to go back in!”
They went back out of the bathroom, leaving Rand in relative peace. Timothy was in shock, unable to believe that the boy was forced to wear this thing! What had he done to deserve it? What was this ‘treatment,’ and how long would it last?!
“I ... I ... wanna g-go h-home!” Timothy cried, backing away from his doctor.
But Susan shook her head. “You have to have treatment, Timmy,” she crooned. “Just like Rand! You’ll feel so much better by tomorrow night that you’ll never want your treatment to end, I promise!”
“I w-want m-my m-m-mom!” he cried, but Susan took the stunned boy in her arms and held him until he was done. “Please,” he whimpered, “I’ll be good. I won’t do it anymore, I swear!”
“You CAN’T do it anymore, Timmy,” she corrected him.
The cold reality of it hit him all at once as Rand called out, “I’m done, ma’am.” There was the sound of a flush.
She got up and took Timothy’s hand, leading him back to the bathroom. Rand was on his knees again, and the room smelled of soap and disinfectant. Timothy watched in terror as she picked up some gloves, put them on, then picked up the black butt plug, which looked huge to him, and lubed it. She lubed Rand’s hole, and then very gently began to push it in.
Accustomed to the plug, it seemed, Rand relaxed and moaned as his hole opened up a bit to accept it. It slid in, requiring a bit of a push at the bulged part, then slid in totally as Rand moaned again and exhaled. Susan secured the ring of the plug to the two cross straps, then secured them back to the leg straps. When everything was in place, she twisted the plug and Rand yelped softly as the device and plug locked into place.
“Thank you, Aunt Susan,” he gasped, and she slapped his ass smartly.
“Bed, boys,” she ordered. “And don’t forget to tell Timmy goodnight!”
They went back into the bedroom, and as the boys stood at the bunk beds, Timmy felt relieved. She hadn’t tried to put a plug in him! He was going to get to go to bed after all, where he could be left alone for a while! He turned to climb up, but felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Rand, his braces shiny as he smiled.
“Go ahead, Rand,” she prompted.
“Goodnight, Timmy,” he said, then leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Timmy touched his cheek where Rand had kissed him, and his trapped penis began to throb again. It had been hard throughout what he had just witnessed, but not THIS hard! Trapped by the belt, with nowhere to grow, it screamed in pain and Timothy winced. Susan stared at him, and he knew what she expected.
Timothy got the idea, and said, in a quaking voice, “Goodnight, Rand.” He then leaned in and kissed Rand’s cheek, feeling his insides tighten and his stomach roll. He began to sweat as he pulled back, his heart skipping, and he could feel his trapped penis growing hot inside. He knew that it had to be leaking, and he was suddenly grateful of the imprisoning belt.
They climbed into bed, Timothy on the top and Rand on the lower bunk. Susan tucked them both in and kissed them, and Timothy thought that he was going to explode right there in bed!
“Goodnight, boys,” she said, and turned off the lights and closed the door. Timothy heard it lock.
“Rand?” he whispered softly after the door closed.
“Yea?” he whispered back, and Timothy could tell that he was crying.
“How long’s this treatment last?”
Rand didn’t answer, however.
“Is there any way out of this thing?” Timothy asked, his aching penis beginning to itch inside.
Still, no answer.
“Rand, if anyone gets spanked over this, it’ll be ME, I promise. Now tell me!”
Rand sobbed for a bit, then choked a reply.

“Just ask Aunt Susan to cut your penis off, Timmy. She’ll be glad to do it for you, and then you won’t have to wear the belt anymore!”