The following story is fiction; just a fantasy about a man who wished he hadn't grownup.  It contains scenes of both male and female domination, spanking, shaving and humiliation, and gay and teen sex.  If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please stop reading now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.

This is Part 2 of the story; click to go to Part 1

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Boys' School – Part 2/2

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

Chapter 5

Each morning Mentor ordered me to get to work on time and return home with food for dinner.  In the evening it became a tough dad who commanded me to do my household chores and led me through a calisthenics routine.  By Wednesday my apartment was as neat and clean as it could be and Mentor ordered me to write about my life, particularly about sexual and boy feelings and experiences both past and present, both good and not so good.

I was surprised by how much I could write.  As I examined my past in the specified terms, I recalled many things that I must have been repressing.  Cousin Tim kept popping up.  Even before the summers on the farm, at family gatherings in order not to be with the grownups, I would latch onto Tim like a bothersome puppy.  Precocious Tim started teaching me to service him at an early age and I was his very willing acolyte for he was always very nice to me.  Subsequently, for the first two summers on the farm, he made great use of me as a sextoy when ever he wished.

During the third summer on the farm, he did not like it when I tried to be more independent shortly after I had started to grow my own hair in the spring.  It took only a few days of his scorning neglect for me to capitulate and to beg his forgiveness.  As evidence of my surrender and total submission to him, he extracted a tribute of my still meager pubic hair every week.  He methodically and gleefully collected it with an old and dull hair clipper, saved it in a tiny plastic bag and constantly taunted me with it.

He made sure that his buddies knew what he did by making me continue to go skinny-dipping with them.  When they noticed my re-hairless state he explained (boasted) that he decided that I was such a sissy boy that I hadn't earned the right to man-fur.  A couple of them wanted to 'breed the little heifer' but fortunately Tim vetoed that.© YLeeCoyote

I think that the worst thing he did was at the request of his girl friend whom he wanted to impress.  Her kid sister (three years younger than me), who was bored of examining her younger brothers, wanted to scrutinize a post pubescent male and he volunteered me as a specimen.  It was awful beyond words.  He made me strip naked and wait tied in a stall just as if I was a horse.  He emphasized my lowly position by also tying hands my behind my back and putting a rope about my head like a bridle.  The girls, in their FFA jackets, inspected me like I was chattel – probing and scrutinizing me both inside and outside.  Tim's girl friend then suggested to her kid sister that she should "milk the beast".  She enthusiastically took up the task practically pulling my poor penis out by its roots and also crushing my balls in the process.  After that I was forced to pee while they all watched and laughed.  Tim had assured my complete obedience by threatening to give me a hot piss enema-fuck – PUBLICLY – for any resistance at all.  Fortunately, I went home just a couple of days later before I could die of mortification.

In my freshman year of high school (after the first summer on the farm) there was Peter.  This upper classman led a band of bullies who picked on all the little kids including me.  A couple of weeks into the term we encountered each out near the lake alone.  His jeans were tented and I couldn't keep from staring.  I was hungry for Tim's cock and Peter's looked interesting.  He noticed and soon I was on my knees getting face fucked and then ass fucked.  It didn't take Peter long before he had me happily servicing him several times a week on demand.  He would even leave met-me orders in my locker.  As Peter used me more and more (always privately) his gang harassed me less and less.  I never learnt what he told them but it certainly wasn't that I was a fag or cocksucker or I would have been doing them all and the rest of the school too.

My initially assigned dorm roommate in college turned out to be an older (twenty-eight!) guy.  He quickly took charge and my life became just classes, homework and being both boy-wife and maid to him.  My Dad liked him and thus he got Dad's approval of his generous offer 'to keep on eye on me like an older brother'.  He took a great interest in me (in his own special way) and believed that 'sparing the rod' would surely spoil me.  This tragedy he did not want, so I was frequently over his knee with my pants down for special 'lessons' like he had done with his own kid brother for many years.  He, having turning me into his pussy-boy, also kept me hairless.  This was even more than Tim had done for by now I had grown some chest hair also.  At first I didn't like this treatment, but I got much better grades than expected and it kept me out of other trouble.  I guess that I must have grown to like it because I did it for four years even though he allowed me less freedom than a JHS kid would have.
 

Chapter 6

Friday morning Mentor printed out a coded report and ordered me to fax it along with my 'life story' to the school by 1000.  Later, at exactly 1600, I was to call Mr. Gort for further directions.  After a short conversation, my part being entirely two monosyllabic-words sentences, Mr. Gort instructed me to give Mentor a code word.  Mentor responded with further directions to be in front of my house at 1900 in my school outfit for pickup for a two-day excursion.  Mentor also provided me with various details including a list, a very long list, of school rules and the consequences for disobedience.

Oblivious to looks of the neighbors, I was anxiously waiting at 1845 for the school bus pickup as directed in my tight school T-shirt and short shorts.  Who would dare risk being late for the trip to Valhalla!

At long last the car I had been waiting for pulled up and the driver directed me into the back seat and tightly fastened a racing type restraint harness about me.  It was setup to hold my upper arms to my body and thus restricted my movements far more than the usual seat belt.  There I found that I was strapped in between Carl and Aaron.  Carl (not in uniform now and with an ordinary seat belt) had also been in the class last weekend but had been quite quiet.  He had been the only one who never got disciplined.  The driver informed me that Carl was my special tutor for the weekend and that he had complete charge of me.  Hearing this Carl gave an diabolical grin, grabbed my basket and whispered: "This should be a fun weekend, Simon; I asked especially for you, boy."  Carl then tightened his grip like an eagle's claw about my boyhood for the ride to school.  I recalled the passage from the school manual: Sometimes a boy is assigned to a tutor for special training.  This is usually done with new, recalcitrant or intractable boys and the tutor is given great latitude in disciplinary matters.  I was so apprehensive that I didn't dare even to try to move for the entire trip.  Of course, it was also awfully thrilling.

As soon as we got to our room Carl announced: "Simon, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.  The easy way you do exactly as I tell you the first time while the hard way you do exactly as I tell you but with a busted butt.  The choice is yours, kid."

"I chose the easy way, Carl" I replied.  Carl sighed and commanded me to strip.

Then he tied me down on my bunk supine and spread eagle.  In just a few minutes he covered my stubbly crotch and pits with a rich thick hot lather.  It was very sensuous and I kept trying to get a hardon.  However, Carl would have none of it; every time I started to rise he would force me down – painfully – and snarl: "Bad boy!"  After sometime he showed me his straight razor and started to shave me.  Even though I was petrified with horror at what he could cut, I also felt that I was in the mist of some sort of ritual.  The ugly stubble that had grown since last week was being scrapped away.  I was undergoing a purifying metamorphosis.  As Carl's razor did its job, he kept repeating: "We're going to keep you nice and clean, boy, just like a proper boy should be." Carl finished by wiping me dry and untying me.

I ran my fingers over my now smooth skin and it felt great.  I jumped up and ran to the mirror where I saw how great it looked.  "Thanks, Carl," I said, "it's wonderful."

"And who told you that you might get up, boy?" he suddenly asked, quietly but most exactingly.

"Er, er" I stammered, as he continued:

"Do you want your spanking here and now or later …  publicly from Mr. Gort?" My choice was obvious and he directed me to lie across his lap.  From last week's pool games, I knew that he was strong but I was unprepared for the first blow.  WHACK!  He hit me very hard and I yelped.  WHACK!  again as he struck the other check.  "Perfect!  Beautiful!" he exclaimed "Would you like see my hand prints on your butt, Simon?"

"Thank you, but no, Sir." I replied and he enthusiastically resumed his task.  I tried not to cry like a baby but, as usual, I couldn't help myself.  When it was over, Carl directed me to wash and dress for dinner.

At dinner, before everyone, Mr. Gort asked Carl if I had behaved properly for my shaving and he replied: "Just fine, Sir; no problems; he seems to be a good and compliant boy, Sir."

Carl was the teacher for that evening's class.  I felt that Carl was picking on me and that I couldn't do anything right.  For starters, within the first minute I got strapped twice; first for not having my homework and second for stupidly saying "What homework?"  After the third time, Carl told me to keep the strap at my desk as it would save time.  He was, alas, right.  By the end of the hour I had gotten strapped an additional four [ouch!] times and the whole class had seen my crimson red butt and freshly shaven pubes as I returned to my hard seat hobbled with my shorts and briefs about my ankles.

When he dismissed the class, Carl called me back and said: "Simon, you have set a new but most shameful record today.  Such 'achievement' must not go unrewarded, boy.  Bring me the cane and assume the position over the desk.  And leave your pants down."  I just stood there, like a dummy, apprehensive and afraid of the corrective implement that I had never known.  "Move it, boy, NOW." he barked and I proceeded as if in a trance.  When we were both in position he stated: "Boy, it is regrettable that you have brought this on yourself.  I really hope that you will shape up or you won't be able to sit for a week." and then I heard the whoosh of the cane cutting through the air as it rapidly descended on its way to my bare and already tenderized buns.  I yelled at the bite of the first cut.  And the second.  And also the third after which, mercifully, he stopped.  As I continued sobbing, I felt him caressing my beaten butt and also rubbing something into my bunghole.  Then, after he dropped his trousers, he mounted me and I could feel his hard man-cock slipping between my checks and start pressing into my boyhole.  Just as I tried to relax, he rammed forward and thrust his tool deep into me as if he was driving a stake to mark a land claim.  The pain of the canning and the pleasure of the fuck quickly merged and I got completely lost in the resultant bliss.

By the time I returned to the world, Carl was discarding the used condom and wiping himself dry.  "Pickup your homework assignment from the rack and get to bed my boy.  Pronto!" were his only words.  Of course, I did as I was directed.  Incidentally, when I located the pigeonhole with my name I found that it held a double measure as there was the homework assignment from the previous week also.

Prone.  Naked and prone.  Distressed, naked and prone on the bunk he found me later.  He rubbed some cream into my very sore tushy.  He then explained to me: "Simon, I hope that you have learnt your lesson this evening.  Uncle Carl would much rather fuck than beat you but it is up to you, lad.  Will you be a good and dutiful boy?"

"Yes, Uncle Carl, I promise." As I drifted off into dreamland, I realized how much I liked being a boy and being told what to do.  And even being shaved and spanked.  However, I did not dare think how my bottom would be if I had taken the 'hard' way.
 

Chapter 7

This Saturday was pretty much like the previous week's with the addition of wrestling and clothes since it was much cooler.  Unfortunately, I found out first hand that Robert's warning was quite correct about Terry's wrestling skills when I got paired with him.  At the initial face off, Terry confidently whispered to me: "It's going to be three in a row, Simon, and for the third fall I'm going to pants you!" and showed that she could by taking me down immediately.  It was quite evident that I was out classed as Terry completely controlled both the match and me.  No matter what I tried, she easily countered it and was constantly toying with me.  When he tired of this torture and made the second fall, Terry grabbed my balls real hard and snickered: "I just wanted to see if you still had them as you wrestle just like a sissy girl!" I could still feel the aftermath of his rough grip as we faced off for the third time.  Quickly and adroitly Terry flipped me over on to my back, raised up my legs and easily yanked my (elastic belted) shorts and briefs completely off.  She waved them triumphantly in the air standing over me – the vanquished foe.  The other boys all thought that this was great fun so they cheered, laughed and tossed my shorts about while I was the only naked one.

They kept up their game of keep-away until Matron appeared and announced "Rest Period; now, boys." The guys threw my shorts and briefs separately into the bushes.  Thus I was forced to stay humiliatingly half naked for the entire rest hour as I did not have the time to retrieve them without certainly incurring the predictably immediate terrible wrath of Matron for being late.  I didn't escape completely however.  Matron bound my hands behind my back for being out of uniform and to prevent unauthorized auto-play for why else would I have my shorts off.

After the rest period, I was fortunate enough to be able to find both my shorts and briefs before being called to dinner.  I could imagine all sorts of unpleasant consequences of failure.
 

Chapter 8

On Saturday evening there was a formal club meeting, as the school was officially a private club, followed by dinner.  Carl graduated to an 'uncle' and I was inducted as a 'lower boy'.  As part of the ceremony Carl held me with my pants down [yes, once again] and everyone gave my buns a welcoming slap.

Shortly after dinner we boys were sent to bed while the 'dads' and 'uncles' talked.  As I was finishing in the bathroom I could hear Matron in the other boys' rooms checking up just like a fussy mother.  When it was my turn she just barged in as if the door wasn't there.  She asked all sorts of personal and intimate questions while I was hiding behind my towel, such as: "Have you brushed your teeth?" and "Have you moved your bowels?" When I said no, she said that Uncle Carl suspected that and to get on the bed and she be right back.

Just moments later she rolled in a hospital pole from which was dangling a HUGE BULGING RED ENEMA BAG.  "Oh, no, please, I don't need an enema, Matron." I whined lying naked under the sheet.

"Don't be difficult, boy; your Uncle Carl ordered this clyster for you and he knows best." she said, taking the pillow from under my head and flipping the sheet back to expose my naked body once again.  "Keep your knees up to your chin, boy." she ordered, while also lifting then up and slipping the pillow under my hips.  After pushing my boy nuts aside and rubbing some lubricant on my upturned hole she then stuck the nozzle deep into me and opened the valve.  While she held the hose in place the soapy water soon filled me to near busting, after which she removed the tube and let my legs down.  Then she rubbed my distended tummy for several minutes before permitting me to go to the toilet.  She was sitting on a my bed when I returned and ordered me to lie across her lap so that she could put some salve on the cane marks.  She finished up with a couple of love pats and a "Good night, boy." and left putting out the light.

I was still awake when Uncle Carl returned, showered and got into bed.  "Good night." I said.

"Come here, lad." he replied and I went to his bed for the night.  It was so wonderful to be cuddled up like spoons all night after he had fucked me again.  Like Peter Pan, I never, ever want to grow up!

The End

© Copyright A.I.L., September 10, 1997

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