Hickory Tails

Intro

Outrageous? – Yes, by intent and design, and supplied generously with lusty characters. The story’s a tongue-in-cheek flip-around of the way most stories here operate. With that in mind, you may find the following promotes stutters of disbelief. ’Tis the spirit in which it is offered, gentle reader.

Special thanks to James Rozo for his empowering suggestions.

Hickory Tails

“Eustis, where you been?”

“Over at them Yarbroughs’ silo.”

“I’ll bet. How many stripes didya git?

He blushed, “Seven. Woulda bin more only I…”

“…Finally gave in?”

“Yeah.”

“What about Corey?”

“Him, too. He took nine afore he give it up.”

“Lemme see.”

“Aw, okay. I’ll shuck down.”

“Lordie! Bend so I can see better. Say, them’s nice stripes – even, ’n’ spaced real good. Quit squeezin’ your hole.”

“Cain’t or I’ll spill everthang.”

“You mean?”

“Yep, ol’ man Yarbrough ’n’ his older brother.”

“Where’s Corey? Is he in the same boat?”

“In the silo, I guess. They ain’t got no boat. They kept him.” 

Superintendent Jackson Kilgore punched the stop button on the cassette recorder, looked at his Assburn Academy’s interviewer, puny-looking Harvey Studbound, and was asked, “So?

“So what? Where we are, boys traditionally are conditioned by discipline with hickory. What’s that look on your face?”

“At home and at this academy? As young as those kids?”

Studbound had brought letters of introduction from his editor and publisher. Clueless about the assignment, he was aghast at what he had learned.

“Eustis and Corey have no one to take care of their problems – our staff are overworked – so the nearby Yarbroughs have taken up their cause. The boys’ confidant and life coach, psychologist Randolph James (known familiarly as Randy-James), is researching long-term effects of hickory action. That’s why he secretly made the recording a few weeks ago. Nothing of a pretend nature about it. The real thing. And he’s interviewed some of our outstanding products all successfully doing productive farm work.”

“But, sir, the Yarbroughs…”

“Sterling men – prosperous too, and products themselves of our valley’s authoritative ways and means. They provide a lot of the hickory we use and have helped Eustis and Corey start growing ginger root. The men’s penises are the right sizes, too. That disused silo of theirs – redolent of oxidizing grains – suggests to those taken there for ‘treatment’ that they’re in for a hot time.”

A blank stare.

This place is a scandal.

“Hmmm. I continue to note disbelief on your inexperienced face, Mr. Studbound. I’m going to write out contact information for you starting with the Redstone brothers who work under hickory-stick motivation for ‘Good ol’ Al’ Hawkins. Research, man – do it or fail to comprehend our Assburn standards. For example, you may want to talk with the Hawkins family’s friends, the Dunwoodys. I’ll add the contact information also for Mr. James’s pupil and personal hole-boy, Jeeter Marwood. They’re happy, living with Jeter’s approving mom on the family farm.”

“But Mr. Kilgore…”

“Yes, what now?”

“All this homo-sex-ual behavior – why, it horrifies me.”

“Wait just a second. You mean, you’ve never taken under your control and thrashed and fucked a male student? My heavens, what business do you have trying to investigate our work this field?”

With that pregnant, if rhetorical question, Superintendent Kilgore stood, opened a door on the wall behind his diplomas and citations, and raised his voice, “Beau babe, come spare a few minutes to meet the man I’m interviewing.”

A fully blossomed, blue-eyed blond youth, alarmingly handsome and barefoot, came into the office. “You called, sir?” – his voice sparkled.

“This is Mr. Studbound. He’s one of those rare things, a middle-aged man who’s no experience with boy flesh. Show yourself to him.”

Beau smiled with the radiance of a lighthouse in deepest night. Before the man’s gasp fully escaped his mouth, the teen’s blue pullover was pulled over, uncovering nipples that bulged in response to well-set suction cups. To Studbound’s gape, trousers were dropped and kicked aside to expose a sapphire-blue cock cage in front and, as Beau revolved like a heavenly body in orbit, a matching-blue butt plug secure between well-striped buns.

“Let him see, even feel, your bottom.”

Studbound was tentative.

“Do it, man. Note his skin’s evenness, and that no ridges from my use there of hickory sticks exist.”

“What, pray tell, is..th-th-th..this?” he stuttered, the feeling arising that his ignorance was vast.

As the rounded latex object was touched, Beau was asked, “Which model are you wearing?”

“My favorite for in-between wear, it’s five inches long, you know, to provoke me between our love times.”

Sweat began to show on the would-be employee’s forehead. His voice rasped, “What does that mean?”

“Give him the short version.”

“When morning comes, I get spanked by hand before breakfast and fucked after I’ve done the dishes. Jack plugs me until time for my surface treatment with one of our personal hickory switches, you know, to bring out a little more of my color. That’s groovy. Makes me hot, wanting the real thing – which he doesn’t give me until lunchtime. I mean, his lightest-heft hickory stick applied evenly ten or twelve times before he fucks me. Then I receive one or another of our five plugs. Some burning then but I’m used to that. When he takes his coffee break, he’s sweet. Kisses my butt cheeks before he swats them with a mid-thickness hickory stick – exactly in between his earlier stripes which have begun to fade, he’s so skilled. Oooh, the thought always makes me shiver! Ahem, he fucks me before letting me choose the plug to secure me for him while he goes back to work. That’s what you see now,” he said with a grinding bump toward the visitor.

Jack winked and nodded.

The beautiful boy got the message. He slipped from himself the dildo-plug, sniffed it approvingly, deposited same atop the large, if cheap, yellow-glass ashtray on a nearby table, undid astounded Harvey Studbound’s pants, handed him the mid-thickness hickory stick, and said in a level voice, “Give me six of your best.”

Noting hesitation, Beau sprawled across the man’s lap, “Six, now!”

“One……..two…….three…..four….five...six!” the somewhat-less-shy assailant counted, speeding up, his own member contesting against Beau’s heaving cock cage.

Jack got up, telling Beau, “Throw the lever to recline the chair and sit down on his throbber.” The boy obeyed so quickly that Studbound had no recourse.

Upright on the skinny stub, Beau leaned forward to receive steady, sharp thwacks to his butt from his lover’s hickory stick. Each crafty strike of the flexing stick lurched him almost off Studbound’s cock. But. He. Rebounded. Elated to feel the sting. Which spread from its bright sparks into a heat wave just as Studbound started to squirt into Beau’s moist sleeve.

Too dazed thence to form an idea what thence was happening between boy and Superintendent Jackson Kilgore, he heard gleeful, squishy sounds. He blinked a few times and noticed that the sapphire cock cage and nipple cups were gone, that towering Jack, naked, had Beau by the balls and was plowing him hard from behind, and that the boy continually twisted his head back for quick kisses.

Pure, lusty, lewd love! – It was a concept surpassing all in Harvey Studbound’s fenced-in past. The man gulped. Comprehension threatened to swamp him.

Climax’s smashes and flashes had no chance to die off for there was an insistent, if soft, knocking at the door.

The question on Studbound’s mind whether Beau had any training for agricultural work at the Assburn Academy went unanswered as two small figures poked their heads in.

“We jes’ got back,” Eustis announced.

“Hi! Was everything copacetic?”

“Them Yarbroughs really still dig Corey, even though this was his fourth time and all.”

Jack faced Harvey, “Remember that cassette recording you fussed about? Well, meet its boys in the flesh.”

To the two, he said, “Corey, you and Eustis come in and show this man your sweet rumps, and tell him what’s been happening.”

Eustis asked, “Dontcha wanna call Randy-James so as fer him to git in on it?”

Beau, quick on the trigger, grabbed his dildo, reinserted it and, passing the Academy’s tykes with pats to their heads, went off to find their psychologist-in-residence.

Corey called after him, “He jes’ drove down frum the mountain. He’s to check out the fuck machine. Needs oil or something.”

“Yeah,” Eustis raised his voice, “It ain’t bin workin’ right.”

“Boys, drop your drawers and start on your report.”

“Yessir,” Eustis led off. “Y’see, my butt’s really glowin’ on account of because the ol’ man, Cal Yarbrough, gimme ’bout twenny thrashes afore he fucked me. It wuz wunnerful.”

Jack and Harvey were impressed, Harvey Studbound the most. He whistled with astonishment.

Lined up in parallel were red hickory stick lines down the back of the boy’s legs.

“Have you tightened up yet?” Jack asked before slipping two fingers in. “Don’t answer. I can tell that you’re doing great. Say, there’s a lot of semen in there.”

“I used a paper towel.” The small voice said in defense, “Couldn’t git evathang.”

“Wow, Corey, you look fantastic,” Jack pointed. “Did the other Yarbrough use the same hickory stick on you?”

“Naw, Mel skinned off a new one to use on my li’l butt.”

Pride colored the assertion.

Jack studied the flaming bottom. “How many? I can’t tell. You’re solid red everywhere.”

“I counted thirdy afore he screwed me the first time, then maybe thirdy more afore he gimme a really good screw.”

Eustis corrected, “Don’cha git carried away none. It wuz twenny-five. I counted.”

“You two go get salved, and tell cook to give you some strawberry ice cream. After that, tend to your herb garden, especially the ginger root.”

Corey’s eyes swelled, “We tried a small piece jes yesterdy. Hot as hell in my ass. Whew! Thought I’d croak afore Eustis took it out and washed me inside with his spit.”

They darted away just as Randy-James and Beau bounded in.

“They were tugging up their pants,” Randy-James observed. “You men been diddling them, or more?”

Jack was jocular, “They were helping this man, Harvey Studbound, believe what he’s reluctant to believe about our happy place. Fill him in, will you? Our history, for example. Beau and I have some settling of matters to deal with.”

From Jack’s desk chair, the psychologist began, “Our Academy’s founder, Ashley Assburn, taught for years in this secure part of the country. Sound thrashings were meted out with authority on a daily basis to keep boys on their best behavior “to the tune of the hickory stick.” You must know the old song –

School days, school days
Dear old Golden Rule days
'Reading and 'riting and 'rithmetic
Taught to the tune of the hick'ry stick.”

Harvey harrumphed.

“One of her most-often disciplined boys, as she bared him for another licking, told her that the best thing was what followed. That boys got someone to fuck them every time to help them get over their guilt. Miss Assburn, whose right arm had developed in an unattractive, noticeably muscular way, formulated a ‘bonding policy’ which she inculcated among farm families: From earliest ages that counted, boys were to be rewarded by pleasurable penetration after being spanked or thrashed. Fingers at first then, well, you know…

“So convincing was her argument that farm families agreed she ought to start a special school for boys. Hence, thanks to a legacy from her family, the Assburn Academy. As a memorial, we preserve in a big bundle the size of a bale of hay all her surviving, much-used hickory sticks downstairs.”

Flabbergasted, Studbound sought escape. He bolted for the door behind him and opened it upon passionate Beau – arms roped in the small of his waist and ruddy buttocks being battered – and Jack, whose pelvis pounded his personal boy’s hole with horsepower.

Mortified beyond words, the man stood paralyzed.

Hammering away, Jack did not let up as he said, “You’ve come at a great moment. I broke my hickory stick on Beau, which is why he’s so utterly in his ‘other space’ right now.”

To his supine target, he bellowed, “Take it! Take it from me, babe, like you took the hickory! This way! The way…I…like…it!”

Beau burst out, “Give it to me, Jack! I can take it hard! Ram me, man! Make…me…feel…you!”

Convulsive shudders shook the room like an earthquake.

“I’m not up to this,” Studbound croaked. He fled for his car and woozily swerved away from the farm valley and its traditions. Interviewing the superintendent of the crazy place was not an assignment for him!

* * *

Randy-James felt relief. The nutcase was gone and the fuck machine’s gear had been oiled. He could return to his rounds.

For his rounds, Randy-James plucked from a sealed plastic bag three freshly well-pared pegs of ginger root. Once thrust in, they would create arson in the asses of the boys to be spanked. On the way, his rapidly rising boner wagged back and forth like a dog’s tail.

Tall, lanky Randall was a freak among the Academy’s residents in that he could accept anything Randy-James could mete his way if treated first to penile bulk in his throat and balls in his mouth. To breathe, thus stuffed, challenged him. And the longer he was made to wait in place for the excitement, the better his genitals anticipated their hands-free orgasm.

Randall liked to be fastened on the Academy basement’s large spanking bench, which task Randy-James’s practiced hands accomplished with a few pinches to sensitive spots. No surprise there. A springy piece of fresh hickory applied vigorously triggered his jaw to open and his tongue to hang out in anticipation of being crammed. The usual, tried-and-true. Being face-fucked to the point of strangulation was his reward. Made his cum spurt here, there, and yonder.

Randall gobbled.

For this occasion, however, a genuine surprise awaited him.

Randy-James slobbered on one of the specially-prepared pegs, leaned across his fellator, inserted it with aplomb and gave it a twist. As the tall teen’s channel absorbed the basting of saliva, it began to respond to the peg’s inherent, fierce compound, gingerol.

Twitches, clenches, grinds, and muffled cries protested the growing inflammation – at which time, his glutes smarted insanely under hickory attack.

Unhitched, Randall collapsed on the basement floor, aroused as never before, his face radiant with pain’s pleasure, ginger root in situ.

Randy-James moved to his second subject for spanking, compact Juanito, known as the Academy’s irrepressible prankster. Having done nothing irresponsible lately, his tail was out of condition. Nor had its chamber been fired into except by the man’s pistol-solid weapon of bliss. Plus that of another staff member, equally endowed.

Ignorant of the consequences to come from whatever it was that Randy-James slipped into him as he grit his teeth in preparation, the Hispanic teen lit up like a Christmas tree within a minute of having his devilment routed by a riot of wrist-propelled hickory slashes.

The second he screamed and came in splurty gobs, Randy-James extracted the root and gave his rubicund rump a final smack with an open palm.

“Take that with you, Juanito, and get used to it.”

“Because?” the boy sniffled.

“Because the next time I spank you, I will fuck you to a hellish heaven with a new lube you’ll need to be ready for. Ours is a partnership, remember?”

Juanito scrambled to Randall’s place on the floor to examine each other’s roots and to compare notes on their novel spankings.

Randy-James dutifully approached desirable Whitt, youngest of the lot. From his position on the least of the basement’s spanking benches, little Whitt’s warm, dark brown eyes seemed, with puppyish charm, to beg for a chuck under the chin or a caress of his downy cheeks.

“Suck on this while I select the right piece of hickory to use on your thistledown pudicity.”

Sucking, Whitt wondered at the warmth accruing to his tongue and palate while keeping his eyes on Randy-James who searched the room’s umbrella stand’s selection of sticks.

He spat out the ginger root plug, “What are you looking for?”

“The one I used last time – remember, with short twigs, nicely trimmed?”

Whitt made a guilty sound before saying, “It’s under the bed. I asked Randall to switch me for a little while last night.”

“He tear you up?”

“No, just made me feel good, then I got him to fingerfuck me so I’d go to sleep.”

“Well, don’t come so close to breaking our rules again or I’ll punish you with no ass action for a week.”

The twiggy hickory stick’s affect grew as the now properly placed ginger root plug took charge of Whitt’s anal lining. The smoking boy was worked on by Randy-James until the moment when his instrument of reward – quickly condom-clad – was ready to replace the plug – the moment indicated by having achieved flame-red color to the rounds of Whitt’s perfect butt.

Breaths taken were held for inch-by-inch insertion, the man’s handsomely hard cock-column sinking with titanic heaviness to the floor of Whitt’s furnace. Endorphins incinerated the strapped-down charmer who whooped. Man cock and boy butt mated climactically.

And the walls seemed to come tumbling down.

* * *

Eustis and Corey were summoned from their herb garden to action, “You two, come over here and loosen your friend. Smother him with cuddles, for he’s still burning. My other duties call.”

Into a nearby trashcan went the condom.

“Thank you, Randy-James,” the group of boys chorused.

* * *

“Hello,” the light voice of a lady said over the telephone, “This is LouAnne Bailey. Have I reached Mr. Randolph James?”

“Yes, this is he. I think I’ve heard your name. Was it in connection with some farm lads?”

“Why, yes!”

“What might I do for you?”

“”I’ve ended up with another boy – in loco parentis – only this one’s impossible for me to deal with.”

“How exactly do you mean?”

She cleared her throat, “Not very bright, something of a runt, humorless, he only wants his meals, his bed, and to stay put at my house knitting or tatting lace. No ambition. So…wimpy! It’s frustrating me.”

“Have you spanked him?”

She sniffled, “Yes, at least I tried, three times. Not even on the bare. But he bawled so, it broke my heart…and I couldn’t do a proper job of it.” She rushed, “Please, he’s seventeen. Can you take him into the Assburn Academy? My friends, the Dunwoodys and ‘Good ol’ Al’ Hawkins, recommended that I call you or Superintendent Kilgore. You guys with your hickory-based instruction might be able to turn him into something. I mean, in a way. He has some potential in the looks department.”

“Miss, our boys are brought up here from very young ages. We don’t take grown-up teens.”

“Oh, but Mr. James, Corydon’s barely out of puberty, which didn’t get very far with him. It’s sort of delayed. His – uh – ‘parts’ are – how can I say this? – they remain small although his testicles have dropped.”

With a pause for effect, his mind working quickly, Randy-James told her, “There’ll be papers to sign him over to us.”

“Of course, and you’ll provide witnesses for notarization?”

“Yes. Tomorrow morning early, we’ll bring the documents and the notary, and we’ll pick him up. Nary a word to Corydon, you understand.”

* * *

The boy did not relinquish himself to the blandishments of Assburn Academy for weeks. Stubborn mental dullness abetted recalcitrance.

Merciless tickling proved effective. Corydon was hung without clothes by his wrists to a winch overhead and suspended an inch from where his toes could reach. A feather to armpits, stomach, and inner thighs encouraged his mastery of “sir,” “thank you,” and “please” and the combination of the latter words with the first.

While hanging and displaying acquired facility with his treble voice in the use of the terms, he was rewarded by sips of water and milk, bites of milk chocolate and finger-fed slices of banana topped by peanut butter. Growing willingness to cooperate had stemmed from hunger and weakened shoulders. After mornings and afternoons on and off the winch, he came to understand that no drink or food was to be his until he asked politely for suspension.

Initially mortified to see Corey and Eustis smiling as they witnessed his treatment and hearing their comments on how good he surely was feeling to be worthy of the attention – the more so when feathers were used only in the crack of his bottom, on his nascent nipples, under his sex – Corydon caught on that he had to request them one by one.

Between sessions, authorities confined him – nay, marooned him – in a small, empty, maroon-painted room with pink and blue baby blankets for comfort.

The unthinkable occurred when, to his embarrassment, both boys were called in to witness his being taken to the toilet and administered an enema and a flush before having hands tied above his head to a special fixture and showered personally by Randy-James.

With sudsy hands, the engorged man fondled Corydon’s front and initiated a finger into his fundament. After minutes and from a shelf, he picked up a small dildo to probe where and his finger had and set a rhythmic pattern to a few inches more depth. Firm grasp of his genitals made Corydon jerk away, back to earn him the dildo’s total length.

“Great, Corydon!” Eustis called out. “Go for it.”

“Yes!” Corey seconded in his imitation chipmunk voice. “Be smart now. Tell him, ‘Thank you, sir. May I have more?’ – and mean it ’cause you’ll get the best reward yet!’”

The tiled room was steamy from the shower’s temperature but Corydon felt unknown goosebumps arising from inside and outside. Something awesome was scintillating his body.

Corey’s small palms clapped, “You’re progressing! Let puberty happen!”

Transfixed as if frozen, Corydon shook for a second, stiffened, trembled, threw his head back against Randy-James’ chest, and began bawling – for the first time in his weird life – with pained joy.

Realization held him as strongly as Randy-James, realization that more would be better now that he had felt whatever that was – the boys called it orgasm. It had shaken him so hard he had trouble forming the will to speak. “Please, sir. Please. Please do that some more. It hurt so good.”

Randy-James’ mouth on the boy’s nape sucked hard to give Corydon his first hickey before he said, “I will dry you before I can prepare your bottom for more.”

Once dried, hands untied, and stretched abdomen-down on a bed, he listened to fateful words, “Corydon, your skin back here must be stimulated before further happiness such as you felt. I will switch you smartly – and, as long as you ask me to go on when I pause, I will treat you inside and out to equal degree after you can take no more and only moan your appreciation.”

He didn’t quite understand but, now that a modicum of clever instinct had piped up in his consciousness, he hiked his butt up and managed to hold it there – until given his first swift stroke. Unnerved, alarmed even, he yearned for another outcome, so held himself in position and received the switch as many times as he could stand before wrong tears threatened.

“Good job, my boy,” the man said, nicking time in the bud. Slickened, his cock bore into Corydon and reamed him to feverish response: a second orgasm – celebrated by a hickey to the other side of his neck. Close to his ear was whispered, “Keep up the good responses and soon you’ll earn the right to be whipped with our hickory. I’ll leave you to hear more about that from the boys. Now I’m going to telephone LouAnne Bailey the good news about your beginning to understand our system of behavior modification. She’ll be relieved. You caused her much worry.”

“I’m sorry – sir,” he clutched the lump of Randy-James’ cock in his steaming rectum.

* * *

Corydon sported a hickey necklace within weeks. His cooperation in being laced tightly in a straightjacket and made to sit on a floor-anchored dildo led to his wearing a radio-controlled, vibrating plug when fully dressed for excursions to nearby farms to see former Academy students working at their utmost to the prompting of springy hickory crops. His proudest moment came when, without flailing his arms, he erected upon receiving three hickory slashes equally spaced.

Prouder still, all eyes on him as he knelt, the moment a solemn Corydon prayed aloud, “Make me truly worthy.”

From behind came Randy-James’ voice, “I will but that time has not arrived. Your balls, my boy, have not been trained.”

Velvet smooth, they hung close to his diminutive body. The man’s hand took them gently, kneaded them, and said, “We’ll need to suspend you again. In a different way.”

On Superintendent Kilgore’s order, Corydon was hung by his roped-together ankles. The result did not facilitate the access he wanted to those boy balls.

Lowered, the curious boy was strapped, arms across his chest sarcophagus-style, into a neoprene torso harness and suspended upright, feet fully on the floor. A thigh-spreader was brought. Installed, it separated his legs into an angle.

He watched Superintendent Kilgore approach and reach slowly forward to capture the small package of boy parts. “As long as you respond correctly, I’ll not gag you. Is that understood?”

“Thank you, sir. Yes.”

“Do you want to say something more?”

“Yes, sir. I appreciate your willingness to make me fully worthy.”

Quite a sentence for him. Good sign.

Hand cupped, fingertips behind waiting testicles, Kilgore pulsed and tapped until a draw of the boy’s breath gave him pause. Lungs relaxed, it was the moment to strike – hard. Corydon tried wriggling his pelvis in reflex.

A squeeze. A good swat.

A sibilant cry rent the air.

“That won’t do.” Kilgore’s pulsing and tapping intensified. He slapped the balls and rising prick, pulled down to compress the pair in its container, licked and bit them, affixed a parachute (handed by Beau, in attendance) and four-ounce weight, dropped it to swing, observed appropriate stoicism, replaced the lead object with another of eight ounces and let it swing the young balls until he noted there was just the space for a one-inch-wide ball strap.

Corydon bore it. Said, “Oh sir, that makes a lot of difference. Does it please you?”

“It does. It – and what you’ll wear next – will induce growth and increase ejaculatory potential so you’re able to be hickory whipped and fucked like a real academician of Assburn stature. We’ll free you now to resume your place with us.”

On wobbly legs and accoutered only by a new vibrator snug in his rectum, Corydon made his way to two excited boys, Eustis and Corey. They were eager to congratulate him on his progress and to apply balm everywhere he needed it.

As Eustis worked on the bare skin, Corey applied pressure to the boy’s again-taut sack and told him, “We got word that something’s going to happen that we can see from a special spot we know – all three of us, now that you’re with us. And don’t tell Randall, Juanito, or Whitt – there ain’t enough room.”

* * *

The something special was farmer Al Hawkins’ arrival with the Redstone brothers, Blade and Stephen. Four years apart, still teens and handsome as could be, they smiled, heard their praises being sung, then shifted expressions to sober as ‘Good ol’ Al’ explained his predicament to Randy-James and the Academy’s superintendent.

He had to retire. “I cain’t keep the place up and minister to these fine young fellers the way they’re used to. My hickory arm’s good as ever but…” – he laughed ashamedly – “…my weapon of ass destruction’s done got to be a dud.”

Sweet, shy Stephen spoke up, blue eyes watering, “We haven’t been fucked in near-abouts two weeks.”

Blade tried not to sound critical, “He means so well, thrashin’ me and Stephen, like he says, ‘good as ever,’ but only, well – dunno how t’say it no better – we ain’t gittin’ our re-wards. Plenty’s due us.”

“Can y’help them?”

Randy-James consoled the old man with reassuring words, then asked to see the brothers.

They stripped. Ravishing specimens, Randy-James thought, of the benefits of agricultural life. The sight, though, of their wildly whipped asses sent his glands into overdrive.

“I’ll provide emergency care right now. Boys, bend for me. Great. As soon as I can get my clothes off, I’ll tend to you. Mr. Hawkins, oblige me, please, by holding their cocks so they won’t get knocked off their feet.”

Stephen was first to notice the undressing man’s reflection in the office mirror. His elbow brought Blade to attention. “Look…at…that,” the boy sounded awestruck.

“Soft, he’s bigger than Al was back when,” his brother said.

“An’ longer,” came the incredulous whisper. “Ohmigod, if he gits bigger when he’s hard, we’re gonna get jetted t’heaven!”

Farmer Hawkin’s back ached from being in such an awkward position for the while that Randy-James fucked both – twice apiece. Seeing the needy boys’ being fucked so tempestuously that their eyes seemed to dislocate for a few seconds during each climax. [They remembered later that fireworks-bright gleams had darted across their vision.] Hawkins’ sad crotch felt remorse. Absentmindedly, he dried his cum-soppy hands on his pants legs.

The good news was that, to bring the Redstone brothers back to mental and physical health, they “should remain for a few days of therapy” – at which announcement, Blade hugged Stephen to him, both misty-eyed.

“I’ll give ya no argument.”

While tidying with towels, Randy-James went ahead with an idea that had fulminated while fucking the spasm-prone teen butts, “Mr. Hawkins – may I call you Al? – if you want to retire, might you be thinking of selling your acreage?”

“Ah sho’ would.”

* * *

The event’s secreted observers – Eustis, Corey, and Corydon – shifted eyes back and forth. Eustis confided closely, “I think we’re about to gain a couple of friends.”

“But not before Jack Kilgore screws ’em tonight to balance ’em out.”

*

Something was brewing. Nothing about it leaked. The air grew tense overnight. Next day, Superintendent Jackson Kilgore addressed Assburn Academy’s residents in rare, plenary assembly.

After adjustments to the amplification system, he spoke, “Boys, as you know, we of the staff strive mightily to tend thoughtfully, dutifully, and thoroughly to your rears with our hickory sticks and stalwart cocks in keeping with traditions ensconced here by the great Ashley Assburn. Due to our welcome mat for quality boys with outstandingly fine butts, your special numbers have swelled. Ours have not. To assure all your expectations are met at least twice daily, the administration has engaged the services of a famous porn star. A man of fierce demeanor, tremendous size, and gallons of vintage-quality juice to fill your butts, I am happy to have you meet Mr. Rindhard Shabazz.”

Not a sound broke their first sight of the white-towel-wrapped, otherwise naked giant of mahogany- or chocolate-pigmented muscularity and virulent of expression. Until. He. Showed his pearly whites…and dropped the towel.

The biggest soft cock ever seen in the Assburn Academy set off gasps and whistles and cheers and applause. Shabazz grinned menacingly. He coiled a massive fist to show the muscles in his right arm. That set off a roar of rock concert amplitude. From behind, his sinister hand lifted a phenomenally long, blood-tinted hickory stick which Shabazz flicked once to disintegrate a flitting moth near one of the podium lights. A volcanic response from the boys, bottoms already smarting.

Order returned when Kilgore bellowed through his microphone, “There is more to be announced. Two eminent friends of our institution are coming out to join us for it. Gentlemen, if you will.”

A collective “H-u-h?” could be heard. The Yarbroughs, Cal and Mel in overalls and carrying handfuls of hickories, strode with certain swagger to the podium, waving their gifts to all as they joined Shabazz.

Again into the microphone, “While we here are constructing suitable quarters to house Mr. Shabazz and his king size bed, the Yarbroughs have been converting their silo – some of you beloved boys have experienced its special, butt energizing atmosphere – into a temporary location for him. Think of that!

“Now, to finish. Randy-James will discuss options with each of you concerning visits to the silo. Everyone will be allowed their choice of hickory stick to take along. Just remember: The larger your stick and the longer it’s used responsibly on you, the greater the reward to give more meaning to your lives.”

Shabazz took an imposing step to the front, hefting and pounding his monster from its limp ten inches to full-length: thirteen-plus.

* * *

An ice-cream social was announced. As strawberry chocolate, caramel, and vanilla whetted people’s appetites, then came a knocking at the Academy’s moss green outer door. Jeeter Marwood and his mom tugged Randy-James’ sleeve, “All’s here that oughta be. Might mean trouble.”

Randy-Jones kissed Jeeter and nearby Corydon on their heads. “You’re trusted now,” he said to Corydon. “Go see who’s there and deal with the situation.”

“Yes?” the boy, whose butt vibrated from his insert, asked through the Academy’s hardly-cracked, imposingly-thick, green door.

“I’m Harvey Studbound, come back to conclude my interview with your superintendent. Orders from headquarters. I’m up to the task now. I’d like to see Jackson Kilgore.”

Corydon shook his now-pretty head’s ringlets, “I’ll have to check.” He eased the big green door back in place and sought advice.

“Harvey Studbound! Last thing we need is him poking his nose back in here,” Jack snarled. “I ought to take a big stick of our hickory to his tail but I won’t. Tell him he missed his chance at being open-minded.”

Beau stayed Jack’s whirl toward the door, “I think of him rather fondly for having provided his throbbing skinny stub to my rampaging ass after I impelled him to hickory me. I’ll speak to him.”

Everyone moved aside to let Beau go.

The door was cracked, “Hello Harvey. We academicians are involved in a festivity right now. If it’s any consolation, I think you can come back another day. Say, next week sometime. Call first. Bye now.”

Before shutting the door, he reached out and gave the man a hearty grope and blew him a kiss.

Beau’s seething nubility back on his mind, Harvey Studbound walked away with a smile and a hard-on as the singing of “School Days” floated, muffled but effectively, from behind the green door.

Extro

If your amusement in reading this gave you half the pleasure that writing it did for me then, in sum, remember that its nervy outlandishness was intentionally aimed at your ‘funny bone.’ My inner vow was to compose a story with an outrageous difference – not remotely what I and others usually offer you here on GayDemon.

So that I will know of the possible pleasure aroused in you by the minutes you devoted to reading my story, please rate your experience and provide a comment below. E-mails are welcome.

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