The cure – part 5

Extreme humiliation, forced arousal, punishment, gay conversion

A teenage arsonist is sentenced to a stay at an unusual reformatory. In this part, he starts to realise that every second of his daily regime is committed to changing his sexuality.

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 The cure – part 5

After lunch, spent naked and sitting on the dining hall dildos, Aaron was taken by a guard on his first work detail. It was in the residential block.

Before going there, they stopped off at the laundry where Aaron picked up a trolley stacked with clean sheets. After that they went to the library where he collected a stack of magazines then they swung by a cleaning supplies closet where he picked up a bucket of water and floor cloth.

The guard stopped at the top of Aaron’s corridor.

“Okay ass-bandit, I want you to go into every single room. There will be a porn mag magazine on each table. I want you to carefully flip through every single page to make sure the queers haven’t gotten spunk on any pages. If they have, leave that magazine there. If the pages are clean, change it out and replace it with a different one.

After you’ve done that, check on the floor to make sure they haven’t wanked on the floor. A lot of them will. If you find dried spunk on the floor, clean it up with the cloth – and I want to see it sparkling.

If there’s no spunk stains on the floor, check their sheets. Some of them will have pissed the sheets, if they have, take the pissy ones away and leave clean ones and a rubber mattress cover.

If the sheets have spunk stains, write down the cell number in this book, change the sheets, then put one of these signs on their bed. Aaron looked at the A4 laminated sign. It read “No masturbating on your sheets. If you do it again, your cock will be locked up for a month and you be able to cum at all.”

One word of warning homo: don’t even think of going easy on anyone. I’ll be checking your work, and if I find a single magazine with spunk on it, or stains on the floor or a mattress, for the rest of the week, you’ll be cleaning the floor with your tongue, got it?!”

Aaron looked at the man. It wasn’t such a tough duty.

“Yes sir.”

 

He did as he’d been instructed, moving from room to room. Only one boy had soiled his mattress with semen, which was hardly surprising given that they had been mercilessly drained the day before. Three boys had, however, wet their beds. Aaron was surprised that the guard had no special humiliation in mind for them.

“As work details go,” Aaron thought to himself after his first ten minutes, “this could be a lot worse.” But then, as time passed, he couldn’t help but glance at the photos in the magazines he was checking. Most of the participants were young men, only a few years older than he was. They were engaged in all manner of sexual situations: blow jobs, masturbation, sex, 69ing, trains, bukkake, bondage, milking, wanking competitions and more. Initially, Aaron had absolutely no interest in the activities depicted, but his mind slowly wandered as he fell into the routine. As he thumbed through one of the magazines, the guard watching him laughed.

“Like what you’re seeing fag?”

“Sorry sir?” Aaron said, not understanding.

“Looks like your flying at half mast there kid,” the man said looking at Aaron’s drooping semi.

Aaron looked down at himself and blushed furiously.

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t why that happened.”

The guard smiled with something almost resembling kindness, momentarily dropping out of character.

“Don’t worry kid, they all get a boner on magazine duty. You’ll be a full fag long before you leave this place.”

Aaron looked at the ground, sickened by the thought. But despite his best efforts, his dick only got harder as he moved from room to room.

 

When he’d finished the magazines, he asked his guard if he could use the bathroom.

“If you must. You know where it is.”

Aaron left his trolley and walked to the lavatories. The guard followed and Aaron walked over to a squat toilet. He’d been holding it off since he arrived but he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He squatted over the metal bowl with his hands on his legs, only too aware of the similarity to the puppy squat pose he’d learned earlier.

To his dismay, the guard stood facing him and looked straight at him as he defecated.

“What did you do to get sent here fag?”

“I set a building on fire. It was an accident – I just wanted to light the trash can out back.”

“That’s harsh. Turned into a fag over that.”

“Is that really what happens here sir. To EVERYBODY?”

“Yup, everybody. Never seen a boy leave who didn’t love to ride or suck a cock by the time his sentence was up. How old are you homo?”

“Fifteen sir.”

The guard looked at Aaron’s groin. Aaron’s dick was thankfully flaccid now.

“You haven’t got much to show for fifteen.”

Aaron’s cheeks flushed.

“No sir.”

“Not a big loss to the girls is it?”

“No sir, I suppose not.”

Aaron concentrated on squeezing out a shit. It was hard with the man watching him, deriding the size of his genitals, but he managed to drop a log. When he was done, he looked around.

“Is there any paper?”

“Fags don’t get paper. Just press that button.”

Aaron looked at the button beside the ground-level bowl. He’d assumed it was for flushing. He pushed it, and a powerful jet of cold water strafed his crack from front to back, and back again several times. Aaron gasped in shock. It was his first experience of bidet-style cleaning, and this one was twice as powerful as the usual ones. He made as if to stand whilst the jet continued.

“Stay down until the water finishes fag. Don’t want your shitty asshole stinking up the place.”

Aaron remained squatting for another 10 seconds until the jet completed its 20 second cycle. Then it stopped and he rose.

 

His guard directed him to put the contents of his trolley away, then he was led to the dining room where three other boys were waiting. Another guard pointed the naked boys to a table where spray bottles containing a mixture of soap and disinfectant stood.

“Get one bottle and a cleaning cloth each fags. It’s your job to clean these dildos. I want them sparkling. And before any of you queermos gets any ideas about refusing or doing a half-assed job, just remember you never know which one you’ll be sitting on tonight, so unless you want another homo’s shit in your assholes, you’d better do a decent job.”

Aaron and the other three boys picked up the supplies and started cleaning. An hour later they had all of the dildos washed and disinfected.

 

When they were done, the guards led them to another room. It was midway between a lecture hall and a small movie theatre. There was a permanent projection screen and over a hundred sculpted plastic chairs. It came as no surprise to Aaron to discover that there was a dildo protruding from each one. What DID come as a surprise, was the fact that each one was different. They were all shapes and sizes, but were clearly modelled to look VERY like actual penises. Then Aaron spotted that there was a silver nameplate stuck on the seat in front of each one along with a photo, just the same as the Wall of Shame he passed when he first entered the reformatory. These were the casting of ACTUAL boys!

“Okay,” the guard announced, “I know this is the bit that you ass-bandits love; the chance to get your hands on something a bit more realistic. Get these cleaned like you did the other ones. Polish them like you were jacking your own dicks!”

Aaron looked at the dildos with some distaste, but he and the others followed the guard’s instructions, working until the theatre room’s dildos were as clean as the ones in the dining room.

 

That evening, Aaron and the others sat for dinner as usual, and as much as he hated sitting on the boner-inducing dildos, the experience was a fraction less disgusting in the knowledge that they were at least clean.

But today was a little different. As they ate, several guards walked around closely scrutinising the boys’ faces. A guard walked up to Aaron and stood uncomfortably close. He run his fingertips lightly over the boy’s cheek and top lip.

When he was done, he declared, “Nope, nothing. Smooth as a baby’s arse.”

They continued moving through the boys. One boy with big brown doe eyes sitting opposite and across one seat had a bum-fluff moustache. Just a few thin dark hairs on his top lip. When the guard spotted them, he took out a machine that looked like a shaver, but instead of shaving, a blue light glowed as he ran it silently over the boy’s lip.

“What’s that?” the boy asked.

“Kills the hair,” the guard replied. “You fags don’t get to have beards or moustaches like real men. Not now, not ever. You’re just little boys, and don’t you ever forget it.”

The guard ran a finger over the boy’s upper lip and what tiny amount of hair had been there, rubbed away like dust, the follicles permanently dead. The man smiled in satisfaction, and moved on to test more boys.

 

After dinner, the boys were taken to the lavatory, and it was there that Aaron noticed something he’d not seen before. One teen, a little older than him had a stainless-steel device attached to his genitals. Aaron hadn’t encountered chastity devices before so he didn’t recognise it. This one had metal bars following the downwards curve of a short penis, and a metal cap that encased the glans, hooking behind its coronal ridge, holding the glans in place and preventing any manual stimulation of the sensitive head.

The boy’s testicles were stuffed into a bar cage but even though he was flaccid, the whole thing looked much too small for him. The skin of his shaft and his scrotum was bulging between the bars, and his balls were purple.

There was a slit across the metal cap and the boy was using a squat toilet. Watching the random directions the teenager’s urine sprayed through the slit, Aaron surmised correctly that lifting his leg to pee like a puppy would have been a messy business. He imagined the kid walking away from the puppy toilet with piss running all down the insides of his legs. It was almost enough to make him smile.

Aaron stared at the device as they both urinated, trying to figure out its purpose. He raised his gaze and met the boy’s eyes. The boy flushed red. Aaron understood the boy’s humiliation only too well. He gave the boy a tight brief grin of solidarity. He’s only been in the reformatory less than two days, but Aaron knew you didn’t start smiling too hard at boys in the lavatories…

 

After they had finished in the lavatory, the boys were escorted to the theatre room. They all queued at the side of the room and the warden entered holding a large box.

“We have a number of new boys with us tonight. If they are not already, they will soon be as queer as the rest of you. But of course, we have our little ritual to go through. I know that for lots of you fags, this is the best day of the month. The latest fags have all been scanned, and true-to-size dildos have been made.”

He reached into the box and pulled out a clear plastic ziplock bag. Inside was a skin-coloured dildo cast from an inmate’s erection. It was 4-inches long and not all that thick. There was also a nameplate with a photo. The guard looked at the nameplate.

“Let me see, Michael Wellbridge. Michael step forwards faggot.”

A boy stepped out of the group, blushing furiously. The warden handed the dildo to a guard, and the man took it and affixed it to an empty seat with a snap in connector that had already been prepared. Then he stuck the self-adhesive name and photo plate to the chair. It was positioned towards the front, and oriented so that any boy sitting on the chair could look between his legs and see whose penis he was sitting on.

“Okay who wants to sit on Michael?”

15 hands shot up instantly. The warden chose one and a boy who looked a little older than Aaron was selected. The guard lubed the chair and the boy impaled himself on the Michael dildo.

“Michael, you can go and sit on the first chair in the back row.”

Michael walked to the chair and sat, carefully lowering himself onto a 6-inch cock that apparently belonged to James Marsden.

 

Next, the warden pulled out a 5-inch dildo belonging to Henry Cleaves. As he read the nameplate, he added, “Looks like Henry didn’t need any help getting hard during his medical.”

Some of the boys sniggered, to Henry’s clear humiliation.

“Who wants Henry?”

The boys enthusiastically vied for the honour, and a boy much younger won the right. He and Henry were assigned to their separate dildos.

 

And so, it continued, with the warden selecting a dildo, showing it to the other boys, and announcing its owner. Initially, Aaron was in dread of the announcement that he too had gotten a boner during his medical, but it soon became obvious that at least half the boys had also reacted the same way to the doctor’s hands.

Then the warden held up a particularly small erection. Just three inches long. Aaron scanned for its owner – maybe the last young kid remaining. He’d had no pubes to remove during their initial induction shower. The warden announced the name. Frank Pedersen.

The biggest boy in their group shuffled forwards, his cheeks blazing a patchy purple, his eyes to the ground.

“Well fucking hell, nature didn’t do you any favours did it fag?” the warden said.

The boy stood 194 centimetres – 6 feet 4 inches tall with broad shoulders, strong arms and a slightly paunchy stomach that could have been excess weight or the muscle at rest that often graces strong-men. He certainly looked strong enough to outwrestle a grizzly, and with his short shaggy blonde hair, he had a Nordic look that reminded Aaron of Vikings. But the thing that shamed him was a stumpy cock, not even 2 inches long with a half-retracted foreskin. If he’d been fatter, you might have written its short size off to it being buried beneath fat, but as it was, the kid was clearly just tiny.

“No sir,” the boy said in a ridiculous voice way too high for his apparent age of 16 or 17.

“Late bloomer are we Pedersen?”

“Yes sir.”

None of the boys laughed or even sniggered. It was almost as though they collective recognised that any one of them could have been in his place but for the genetic lottery. Or maybe it was simply the fact that Pedersen looked big enough to rip their arms and legs off without breaking a sweat.

The warden showed the diminutive dildo and every boy in the room put his hands up. The warden gave it to a young-looking kid, and the boy grinned with satisfaction.

Aaron didn’t understand why the boys were so eager to get his dildo. Had they all been turned into homos, desperate to feel his tiny cock in their assholes?

 

When it was Aaron’s turn, there was a similar level of enthusiasm, and his dildo was won by a black kid who gave him the weirdest look. Aaron ignored it, and instead he went on sat on the dildo he had been assigned. It was longer than his own dick, but not painfully thicker. He lowered himself onto it slowly, using the arms of the chair to support himself.

He noticed that every boy who was already sitting already had an erection and only new boys were bothered about hiding the fact.

Then came the last boy. Jackson Blake. He was about 19, and his dildo was a thick 8-inches long. None of the boys put his hands up. The warden selected a boy.

“You, Peters, it’s yours.”

“Yes sir,” Peters said unhappily.

And suddenly Aaron got it. It wasn’t that the boys were all faggots. Not yet. It was just that if they HAD to sit on plastic dick, they’d sooner it be a small one. That made their enthusiasm for his all the more jarring.

 

When the last of the new cocks were installed and the boys sitting, the rest of the boys were assigned seats in the order that they lined up. Aaron noticed one unfortunate kid having to sit on an even larger dildo than Jackson had provided. He lowered himself onto it slowly, giving his hole time to stretch. One of the guards approached and pushed down on the kid’s shoulder.

“Hurry up fag or you’ll be sitting on that for your meals as well.”

The boy gritted his teeth and forced himself down. Aaron could see him sweating profusely at the pain. Aaron hoped that it was a dildo he would never have to sit on.

 

With all the boys seated, the projector started. Aaron was dismayed but not surprised to discover that it was a gay porno. As soon as the video started, a gentle and distinctly noticeable buzzing started in his asshole as the wireless dildos received a signal to begin. The new boys all immediately started wriggling uncomfortably and looking around. Aaron clenched his knees together, tensing against the unexpected pleasure, but he noticed that the boys who had been there longer all had their knees spread.

“Eyes front, arms on the arm rests” the warden said. “Got an hour of nice hardcore for you tonight.”

The experienced boys already had their arms on the hard plastic arm rests, and the new inmates joined them, sitting there with unattended cocks standing tall between their legs, like a forest of lust.

 

Over the next hour, the inmates were forced to watch a program of high-quality gay pornography. The dildos were synced to increase or reduce their vibrations in time with the action. The second any boy glanced away from the screen or allowed his eyes to close even for a second, a guard was there to threaten him.

 

Aaron had absolutely NO interest in the footage. None whatsoever.

At first.

But being forced to watch, and with a cock so hard it felt like it wanted to explode, he couldn’t help but start to empathise with the characters.

As the program continued, he gradually opened his legs wider. He glanced down at the boy whose cock he was sitting on: Noah Butterfield. He looked almost identical to the actor with the same surname in his Ender’s Game role. Aaron wondered if they were related.

 

Around him, he heard a series of groans and grunts as the boys were stimulated. It was clear on vocalisations alone, that some of the boys were orgasming. He heard hoarse panting from beside him. He glanced across. The boy’s balls hadn’t even dropped yet but he was squirming with an expression on his face that was unquestionably orgasmic. Aaron wondered if the boy had experienced one before. Then he remembered the bus ride to High Lakes. He doubted any of them had gotten through THAT without nutting.

Aaron noticed the boy from the lavatories – the one in chastity. He was squirming more than most, but the expression on his face was anguish rather than pleasure. Aaron wondered what it was like to feel horny while your junk was squeezed into a cage far too small for it. It was clearly frustrating at the very least.

 

Aaron came hands-free after 44 minutes. On the screen, two teen Boy Scouts were giving each other a slow, wet, mutual blowjob. Aaron had never had a blowjob, but he’d fantasised about it often, and now, regardless of the person delivering it, the performance was precisely what he had imagined. The wetness, the slobbering, the tongues and lips on the glans. He got lost in the fantasy, and then he felt the familiar rush.

He tensed his stomach and controlled his breathing as he came, in an effort to disguise the effect the scene had had on him. But he couldn’t hide the fountain of cum that rose from his penis in five large spurts, landing on the ground in front of his chair with an audible splat.

He was certainly not the first inmate to orgasm.  Many had done so within 15 minutes of the video starting, but by the end, almost all of them had, in many cases, two or more times.

 

When the video ended, Aaron could see dozens of puddles in front of the boys on the grey flecked industrial linoleum. He glanced with interest at the boy next to him, then at Pedersen’s chair. There was nothing. Was it possible that they could not even cum yet? Was Pedersen, as the warden had teased, an extremely late bloomer, or was he a lot younger than his size suggested? Aaron was determined to find out before his sentence at the reformatory was complete.

 

The warden addressed the boys.

“Okay fags, which four of you were on dildo clean up duty this afternoon?”

Aaron and the other three raised their hands.

“Good, go over here.”

The warden gestured to a nearby table.

“Everybody else up. Playtime’s over.”

Escorted by guards, the others rose, and Aaron noticed a small wet patch on Pedersen’s belly where his pubes would have been if he had any. Aaron wondered if he’d had any to lose, in spite of his colossal size. His small dick was pressed up tight to his belly.

Nearby, the boy in chastity stood. Clear liquid was drooling from his slit and he looked extremely unhappy.

The boys left the room followed by the warden.

Four guards remained.

 

“Right faggots, I want you to pick up a scooper and a bowl.”

On the table were flat pieces of plastic, like dustpans but much smaller made of thinner plastic. There was also a stack of plastic cereal bowls.

“Okay, on your knees, three rows each, scoop any cum you find onto the scooper, then pour it into the bowl.”

Aaron dropped to his knees in his designated row and tried to pick up the large puddle of cum splattered there using just the scooper. The cum slithered away from it.

“Excuse me sir, it won’t stay on the scooper.”

“Use your other hand Homeo,” the man said, grinning at his own feeble word play.

 

The guards had all been instructed to use constant demeaning homophobic slurs against the inmates as part of the boys’ reprogramming, but this guard saw it as more than just a duty – he relished the thought. It was ironic that he was fiercely homophobic, yet he took such pleasure in creating more homosexuals. An amateur psychologist might have theorised that it was because he was eliminating the sexual competition, but the truth was, he was actually homosexual himself, but deep in denial, and his behaviour was an outwards expression of his own self-loathing.

 

Aaron fought to hide his disgust. He returned to the puddle and pushed it onto the scoop using the side of his hand. It was cold and slimy now. He wondered which of the boys had produced it.

The next puddle was far smaller; more water than seminal fluid.

When he was done with that small puddle, he moved on to the next puddle and the next and the one after that, until he had completed all three rows – more than 30 boys although not all had left a puddle. He looked into the plastic bowl; it was quarter full.

“When you’re done, put the bowl on the ground at the end of your row and come get cleaning gear. You know the drill. Get those dildos shining.”

Aaron collected the cleaning gear, but this time it was different. For a start, the dildos had been occupied more recently and there was soft shit smeared on some of them. Moreover, thanks to the faces on the signs, he could see exactly which dildo matched which boy, and it felt like he was being forced to jack off every one of them. Aaron realised that there was absolutely no correlation between the way a boy looked and the size of his dick.

 

“Now wipe the floor clean,” the man said when Aaron reached the final dildo.

Yet again, Aaron worked his way along all three lines, disinfecting and cleaning where the boys had involuntarily left their loads.

The guard waited for the last boy to finish cleaning the floor.

“Good, now all you have to do is drink up and you can go to bed. And if you puke, you’ll be licking that up off the floor too.”

All four boys looked horrified. They instinctively backed away in disgust.

“No, no, no way!” one boy protested. “I can’t do that. It’s too fucked up even for this place!”

Three guards immediately pounced on him, and he felt three tasers pressed against his skin. The first, against his buttock was enough to drop him, then another was pressed against his nuts, and another against his glans. He writhed, screaming, gurgling and making incomprehensible pleas for mercy but they continued torturing him for a full minute. Then they stepped away, and he lay trembling on the floor, his muscles no longer under his control.

The main guard turned to the remaining teens.

“He’s going to drink when he stops break dancing. Then he’s going to clean his shit and piss up as well, then he’s going to have an ice-cold shower. It’s up to you how YOU do it…”

Aaron picked up the bowl. The collected jizz from at least 25 boys. He looked at the pearly slime in the bowl and lifted it to his lips. He could smell its slightly metallic odour. He opened his mouth and poured in a mouthful. It was slimy on his tongue, its taste insipid.

“Just swallow it in one go,” he said to himself.

He opened his throat and allowed it to slide down, gulping to help it on its way. It didn’t taste particularly bad but the knowledge of what it was, was almost unbearably repulsive. He had to fight his gag reflex. The boy next to him lost the fight and threw up. Aaron hopped out of the way as he heard the boy start to heave.

Aaron lifted the bowl again, and again. It took five decreasingly small gulps to empty the bowl, each one harder to take than the one before.

“Now, lick it clean,” the guard ordered him.

Aaron couldn’t hide his look of hatred, but he obeyed the order, licking the bowl until it was clean. The licking felt more intimate somehow, as though he was grinding the inmates’ spunk into his taste buds because he enjoyed it. Like when he cleaned a cake bowl as a little kid after his grandmother made a cake.

Finally, he was done, but he felt dirty, cheapened by the experience.

 

“Good,” another guard said. “Put the bowl down and follow me.”

Aaron was painfully aware of the semen sloshing around in his stomach. He could taste the boys’ jizz on his tongue.

As he left to head for bed, he glanced back into the room. Two guards were pouring a bowl into the defiant, but now reclining boy’s mouth. The puker was on his knees ready to clean up his own vomit…