Rodney's Nude Humiliation Ch. 16

Now the girls hissed and fizzed to get more information about farm boys in Germany in the olden days. It seemed to thrill them, indecently. If so their mother seemed just as curious, eyes on fire and casting glances at her blushing nude son.

The old lady said she remembered her own grandmother, who owned the farm, ordering three young farm hands into their "Adamkostum" as punishment for smoking near the hay stacks.

"Totale Adamkostum!" old Elsa Geiler declared. "With farm girls and ladies to watch. My own Oma, strong old woman, gave them the belt on their Hintern! That's bottoms. In der Nacke- the nude! All the jumping and dancing! Their parts flying, this way and that,"

Mark was guttered by the shame of having been caught in his "Adamkostum," and by the fact that even his mother felt emboldened to laugh at her son in his Biblical suit. He would twist and turn, trying to hide.

"Be seeing you in der Nacke soon, I hope," a sister might say to him as they passed in the corrridor. "In der Nacke! Ha ha!"

"Told our friends about you in your Adam's costume," the other would say, ruffling his hair as he sat at his Corn Flakes. "They all want to visit. See you like Adam."

On another night Mrs Geiler arrived, smelling of perfume and cigarettes, bringing a plate of Apfeltorte and her own high hopes- and not disappointed by what she saw, right on cue.

"Ah so!" she exclaimed. "Your junger is Naturzustand!" And indeed he was "in his natural condition," trapped in the kitchen shorn of any apron or gstring...

...totally naked...

...and sporting a textbook 45 degree erection.

He had been ordered to do the washing up. But only after stripping in his bedroom. There had been his furtive walk down the hallway. Naked, in the kitchen, with his capacious penis stiffening quickly, he had searched in vain for the apron...where was it? Not in its normal place...damn! Nor the maid's apron either. They'd hidden it, and meanwhile the inadvertent erection quickly asserted itself.

Sprung by his mom and Mrs Geiler, his blushes might have warmed the hearth in a Minnesota winter.

"And mit einer Stander!"

Mrs Sullivan was momentarily puzzled. Then understood.

Beaming broadly, "Ah yes! A stander! His organ is...standing up!"

His mother's eyes focused on his rod, hard as a hammer, its underside displayed with the wrinkled frenulum...and busy, bulging veins...and heart-shaped glans...

She looked at her son's erection, riveted. And she laughed while her son- scarlet with humiliation- stood, hands hovering over his groin.

His sister Gloria, just home, looked round the corner to investigate the merriment.

Her eyes popped with delight.

"Mrs Geiler says your brother is suffering...a stander!" his mom spluttered.

"Ja! A Stander! For sure a stander," said the old woman, thrilled by the sight, eyes flashing. "But you can also say...something else in German. The boy has Der Schaft!"

Der Shaft!

The boy's got "a shaft!"

You could see the elderly lust in her eyes, fastened on Mark's flesh, stretching to the ceiling.

The boy withered, hands fluttering, eyes shuttered. The shame washed over him. Mark's mother placed a hand over her lips quivering with laughter.

And his sister?

Sensing mischief Gloria moved in his direction. Since her mother had first tantalised her and her sister with pictures of their brother nude at swim meets she had always loved her brother's testicles- been fascinated by them, wanted to stroke and fondle his big floppy scrotum. She saw them as a masculine adornment. She sensed that they were big by any standard, certainly by what she had seen in photos of Greek statuary. She had hunted out the albums when alone at home and gloried in her brother's testicular endowment. Yes, the balls in the sack seemed to be growing by the month. Staring at photo after photo, while her hand moved under her skirt, entered her panties.

Indeed there had been close-up photos which showed every detail of his balls- the so-called raphe running down the centre, various folds, deep wrinkles, a dusting of hair, heavy spheres inside the loose skin- and, for sure, they were floppier than on Michelangelo's nudes, more capacious than those of any rendition of Adam in the garden of Eden. And far heavier than her own boyfriend's whose sack just vanished when his five inch cock stretched. Her fingers had confirmed this in the back seat of his father's Cadillac.

"And what do Germans call that?"

Gloria had moved close and was directing her forefinger at her brother's balls.

Mark's testicles hung in the Gothic folds of his scrotum and looked foolish...guilty.

Old Elsa's eyes shone with unbridled prurience.

"In German...auf Deutsch...we say...that is his Sacke..."

His sack! Mark's mom and sister stifled lubricious laughs, eyes riveted on that part of the boy's anatomy. His sack...a purse, perhaps, to keep coins, keys.

Warming to the ritual humiliation of this handsome young man, Mrs Geiler continued.

"...or Hodensack. Hoden are balls. You say in America, I think...ball sack."

Mark wanted to sink through the floor. He always felt shame at his balls...girls seeing them in the photos...feared they looked comic, hanging there...

One glimpse showed that the three females were looking right at his testicles this very moment. His guts melted.

The old German bitch pressed on.

"Or German people say...Eier. That is, eggs. Eier. Your boy has two eggs!"

Mark's mother and sister laughed out loud.

He caught another glimpse of the three of them riveted on his privates.

He felt somehow...very small.

"Mark, please take that thing- your Stander- away," said his mother waving him off. "Spare us any more embarrassment- go to your room."

"Oh no, mom," lamented his sister. "The girls will be here any minute- and I want to show them Mark's thing standing up...

...His stander...

Oh, and his...eggs!"

Eggs! More prurient laughter. But his mother sent him off.

Once after a spanking, the girls thrilled to see him hanging obediently over his mother's knee with her seated in the floral lounge chair. Amelia was standing there, in her maid's uniform, watching intently. The spanking was concluded just as his sisters and the freckled twins entered. The hairbrush was still in the mother's hand. Their brother's punchy buttocks were bright red. He was quietly snuffling, staring at the details of the Bigelow broadloom carpet in doeskin beige an inch from his nose.

Knowing that the girls were looking at his exposed ass, his cheeks spread open as his mother had decreed.

"You have a stubborn pimple, right there," she said, touching the left side of the cleft.

He saw Amelia's white buckled shoes come into view, as she moved to take a look.

Old Mrs Geiler, too, arrived right on time, to see the 18 year old obediently over his mom's lap. She exclaimed, "Your boy Wie Gott in schuff! As god made him! In der Nacke!"

They all got to see him pick himself up, his ample half-erection bobbing ahead.

As he exited the room he overheard one of the freckled faced girls inquired of his mother, "Mrs Campbell, why does Mark let you...you know?"

"All the boys are like that. They accept our authority. Female authority..."

She seemed to think.

"...getting them nude helps."

The others shivered.

"Other mothers have noticed too, our young men have become submissive...docile...obedient. But once we get them stripped to the buff, what else..?"

And everyday for a month the girls might petition their mother to make Mark appear "how God made him." He would look down and appear close to tears. His older sister whispered, passing him the hallway, that with his bottom over his mom's knee they had been able to spy his "cute little asshold" and that had been his "last secret."

A few days after this happened he was in Miss Cuff's office next to the school auditorium after a rehearsal of Cowgirls and Indian Braves. On the walls, framed posters of Broadway shows and school productions back to the 1920s. On her desk a plaster bust of Moliere. And here were boys arraigned like prisoners of some gun-slinging, cowgirl matriarch- Mark and Jimmy Fraser and Rodney Ricketson. You might say, the biggest of the boys and the most athletic.

And for good measure, perhaps a delightful contrast shaming for him, little Stevie as well, densely haired all over and his frontal flap tented by his petite erection.

These boys were standing against the wall, in nothing but their loin cloths. And their arm bands, feathers and moccasins. Looking so absurd.

Miss Cuff was at her desk. In front of her were Samantha Fulbright, Betty Anderson and Milly Slink with large sketch books and three ancient library volumes.

"We've researched it carefully..."

"Anthropology texts, and all..."

"Works on the plains Indians in particular..."

Miss Cuff nodded impressed. These girls were among the most motivated. And girls at this school were very motivated.

"Well, that's very admirable, girls. You said you had suggestions to modify the boy's costumes. That's why I've asked these young men to join us, attired as they are after rehearsal."

The boys blushed. Three suffered the ends of their pricks showing below the flap- and hanging scrotums as well. This exposure on the stage in front of female teachers was one thing. As you moved and danced the flaps swung and exposed everything anyway. But here in a small office, with two girls close by, the shame was acute. Moreover Rodney's organ was beginning to stretch somewhat.

The four were scalded with embarrassment.

The girls had looked intently as the boys had trooped in. "A sight for sore eyes," Samantha had whispered to Millie. As for Stevie the frontal stabbing of his punchy erection was a frequent event and always brought indulgent smiles. Betty seemed to like looking him over, making him blush, enjoying the sight of his obvious little stiffie and his body hair. But at least his organ was covered.

What changes were these girls promoting?

Samantha unveiled it.

"This book is Secrets of Survivial, subtitled Indians of the Plains. Published by Scribners in 1933."

She opened it.

"And here's what it says on page 134. I will read:

Plains Indian modesty is specifically a woman's virtue. Men are expected to beautify, not conceal; and are expected to be braggarts. At least as late as the 1830s, some men would dispense with the loincloth if the weather allowed, though a man was expected to wear his belt. With young tenderloins going clothes free as a matter of choice, especially to play sports, while girls fully clothed watched them, male nudity embraced a carefree exhibitionist quality. A mature age male- in summer of course- would work and play without loin cloth or trousers, simply wearing a belt. Cave drawings and illustrations on animal hides almost celebrate this freedom...

That's it, Miss Cuff. Seems you were being...how shall I put it?"

"Too modest with them."

Betty looked over at the boys as she said this. They withered.

"Yes, and anachronistic."

Miss Cuff's eyes assumed a far off look.

Casually her eyes roamed over the boys against the wall now blushing scarlet. Wearing nothing but a belt? On stage? And in all the rehearsals that lay ahead? With female teachers- indeed, the principal Miss Braithwaite herself- coming and going? The occasional mother on a visit?

Rodney's cock pulsed forward and all of his big glans edged out of the cloak of his foreskin. The plum-head was now exposed. Jimmy's shaft moved too, stretching like a waking python. Mark was aghast but excited by the humiliation, and his ample white cock began to lengthen.

"I've done well," thought Miss Cuff, viewing this. "They must be among the best endowed young studs in the whole mid-West."

Stevie's eyes had bulged ("Nothing but a belt!") and a giant dollop wetted the jutting front of his flap.

All of them registered this shocking, shaming idea.

Just...a belt?

Gulp!

Miss Cuff savoured the responses.

Her eyes swam. Her consciousness suddenly entertained a host of possibilities.

"Let's see..."

Three girls held their breaths.

"You boys might go to your lockers...and return with your belts."

Rodney's dick pulsed some more. The rosy head lifted. Stevie assumed the look of an angel summoned by paradise. Something was going to happen. The humiliation it promised...sounded exciting beyond...beyond imagining. Jimmy and Mark looked on, slack jawed, cocks pulsing and lifting.

"Oh let's not waste time. Leave your loin cloths in your lockers. Return as soon as you can. Wearing...only your belts. And let's see what it looks like on stage."

Samantha, Betty and Millie hung on her next instruction.

It was the one they wanted.

It was not slow in coming.

"And the girls can stay and help. It was, after all, their idea."