Boi Cunt School

©2010 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.

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Chapter 3

Alejandro picked up the gas can and doused the entire pile. Every boy recognized the smell. Boys naturally love cars and the fragrance of a gas station is not normally unpleasant. But now, here, the smell was ominous. They gasped as Alejandro lit a match and the whole pile went up in flames, sending a black cloud high into the air. Quickly new smells assaulted their nostrils: burnt leather belts and wallets and Harvey's prized jacket, burnt rubber sneakers, burnt fabric. All of Dominic's brand new clothes destroyed. All of Bob's valuable baseball cards gone, along with Annie's lovely picture. Pablo's condom lost. The do rag. The caps. The flip-flops. Rabbits feet, cigarettes, dice, combs, all burnt to a crisp. Alejandro stirred the fire. When he pulled his stick out, a pair of black jockeys was hanging on to it. He held it there, as scraps of cotton burned off and fell back into the pile. Blonde Ryan recognized them as his own.

They stared in silence at the wanton destruction of their young maleness. "Girls, Girls, Girls!" Marcus' voice brought them out of their stupor. "Young ladies can't parade around outside with no clothes on. Quickly, run over to your sorority house and put your new clothes on." Alejandro smiled as sixteen young naked butts went scampering away. The stones on the ground hurt their bare feet, but they kept running. The thought of new clothes, any clothes, motivated them forward.

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The so-called sorority was a large old house with five bedrooms. Mizz Chloe, the house mother, met them at the door, and looking at their name signs, told them which bedroom to head for. Four sisters in each bedroom. (The fifth bedroom was for herself.) A faculty member was in each bedroom to meet the girls and show them their new accommodations for the month. Each girl had her own bed, and her own desk. Two girls shared each dresser, and all four shared the huge walk-in closet. Attached to each bedroom was a dressing room with a vanity and that led into a bathroom. The whole suite was decorated in age-appropriate decor, because one bedroom was for the 6, 7 and 8-year olds, the next for the 9 and 10-year olds, then the 11 and 12-yeas olds like Bob and Mike, and finally the teenagers.

"Tiffany, this is your bed," explained Mizz Isabella. "Right next to Abigail." Bob winked at Mike. At least two musketeers would be together. "And Emma and Jasmine are on the other side of the room." Now, I don't want you girls talking and giggling each night. You need to get your sleep. You've got a lot to learn and do each day."

"Uh, Mizz Isabella?"

"Yes, Ethan?"

"Can we get... Oops, you called me Ethan. You gotta call me Jasmine."

"Haha, I know, Jasmine. I was trying to trip you up. OK, now ask your question, Sweetie."

"Can we get dressed now. Cause Mr. Alejandro he burned all our clothes and Mr. Marcus, he said we was going to get new clothes. And I don't want to be naked no more."

"Jasmine, he didn't really burn your clothes."

"Yes he did. We saw him."

"No, he didn't. Those clothes belonged to kids named Ethan and Mike and Bob and Joshua. And there's no one in this room with those names, are there." The boys shook their heads. "No, those weren't really your clothes. You're going to get your very own wonderful new clothes very soon, Girls. And, Jasmine, you're absolutely right. It's not nice for little girls to be naked like you are, except for special things."

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on now, you don't think we girls keep our clothes on all the time, do you?"

"Well, I know my mommy takes them off to take a bath," said Mike. He was totally addled. He had no idea why his parents signed him up for this weird school.

"Of course, Abigail. Very good. Now you girls are really dirty, you have soot from the fire and your feet are all dirty from walking barefoot and you smell sweaty and your faces look like you've been crying, so before you get your new clothes, all four of you take off your names and march right into the bathroom and get showered. And use the nice soap I put in there. It smells like lilacs. And shampoo your hair. Now get going. While you make yourselves clean, I'll take out a nice outfit for each of you."

The boys liked showering together. They played with each other's dicks and splashed water at each other. They all peed, aiming their streams at the drain. They didn't like the smelly soap but they had no choice. "Hey, Mike, don't fart," laughed Bob.

"Don't let Mizz Isabella hear you say that," whispered Ethan.

"What the word fart?" Bob giggled.

"No, you called Mike Mike. His name, I mean, her name, whatever, his her name is Abigail."

"Not to me, hehe." Bob and Mike butted fists. Mike decided he didn't like Ethan, and wanted to get him back as soon as possible.

They got out and snapped each other's asses with their towels, then wrapped the towels around their waists and returned to the bedroom and Mizz Isabella.

"Yes, you look much better now, Girls. Your hair still needs a good brushing, but you look ever so much cleaner. But, Girls, there's one thing you need to learn. A lady doesn't wrap the towel around her waist like that. She tucks it up under her arms. You don't want boys to see your titties, do you?" The lads pulled their towels up and looked at the clothes on their beds. "Now, girls, pick up the panties. Don't they feel nice? All soft and silky? Not like the cotton undies you used to wear. Go on, put them on." Bob thought the girls panties felt cool on his dick. He liked the feel.

"Mizz Isabella," laughed Mike, "Ethan, I mean Jasmine's dick is tenting her panties."

"Now, Abigail, we must be nice. First of all, you girls don't have dicks. They're called clits. Now, Jasmine, you discretely tuck your clit so it doesn't stick out. You'll learn. You'll all learn. Now, you need to put on your bras. This isn't easy, Girls. You've never put a bra on before. You have to hook it behind your back where you can't see it. Until you learn to do it yourself, you're going to have to help each other put them on. There now, Girls, look in the mirror. Don't you look nice!" The boys looked and gawked. They were looking at four little girls in their underwear.

One by one, Mizz Isabella sat each boy in front of the mirror and brushed his hair back. She gave Bob and Mike head bands to wear, and Ethan and Josh barrettes. She wished their hair was longer so she could style it.

"Now you have to put on your socks. They're knee length, and these little rubber band things with the ribbons on them are called garters. They'll help keep your socks from rolling down your legs. Very good. And here are your new shoes. They're called pumps, and I know they'll fit you perfectly, because your parents filled out a form with all your sizes." A fuckin conspiracy, Bob thought. Mike was still wondering why the hell his parents chose this place.

"Next comes your blouses. See how pretty they are with the puffy sleeves and the lacy bodice. I know it's going to take some getting use to, because you girls have been wearing shirts that button on the wrong side all these years." Bob kept fiddling but finally got his blouse buttoned, only to discover he had one hole left over. He had to unbutton and rebutton it all over again. "Finally, your skirt. It's green plaid. No, don't step into it, like pants. I want you to slip it down over your head. That's it. Don't get lost in there, Abigail. Now, button your skirt and you're all dressed. That's your school uniform. That's what you'll wear every morning to class. You each have four pairs of the socks, and two blouses, but only one skirt, so don't get it dirty. Later, Mizz Chloe will show you how to do your laundry. Now, we're all set to go to lunch.

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In the dining room, the other twelve boys were also wearing their school uniforms. They looked like a fuckin parochial school. Pablo waved his head for Bob and Mike to sit by him. They were all starving by now, and when the food came it was delicious. The only trouble was, the faculty kept correcting them to hold their forks the right way, to sip their tea without slurping, to keep their elbows off the table, and to resist the natural urges to belch, burp and fart.

Marcus came in and admired the transformation. He strolled around the tables, petting the heads of the little ones, feeling the falsies on the teenagers. As he passed behind one boy, he heard an unmuffled burp. The lad was oblivious to his crime and went on joking with his tablemates, with his elbows on the table. Marcus put his hand on the miscreant's shoulder. "What's your name?"

"Hunter." The whole room fell silent.

"Stand up, Girl. Turn around. Your name sign says Mia. There's no one named Hunter in this room, is there?"

"You can call me Mia if you want, Mr. Marcus. But Hunter's my boy name. My real name." A loud collective gasp went through the room. The three musketeers put their fists together. Without saying a word, they knew they wanted to make Hunter a fourth musketeer.

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As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.