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Part 3 – Freddie

by Rat-tales

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 08 Apr 2018

Freddie was sitting on the side of his cot when he cell was suddenly brightly lit. The door opened and entered Nurse Beatrice. You rang? Need to piss? He nodded.

Closing the door behind her the matron tossed him the little key to his baby blue cock pouch. The fourteen year-old made a good catch and moments later had his pouch off and was standing over the commode unleashing a strong stream.

The uniformed woman stood there with her arms crossed patiently. Without being told Freddie packed away his pecker into the pouch and locked the padlock with a click that always sent shivers up his spine in knowing that his good buddy’s brief parole was over and unavailable until sometime in the future for another piss or masturbation therapy. That being training him not to masturbate.

It’s four a.m. Get back to bed. Breakfast at seven and a session with Doctor Detrick at 9:30.

Are you going to whip my feet again?

We never know just where your therapy takes you because so much depends on you. See you later, alligator.

Beatrice looked through the one-way window after she had closed the door to see the kid climbing back to bed. She switched off the cell light to leave only the small red night light on which provided just enough illumination for the nursing staff to observe the patients.

After breakfast Freddie was shocked when the matronly woman said that won’t be necessary when he was just about to lock away his precious in his cock-pouch after having pissed. Really?

Really. Now you want to call for help every time you need to pee.

That’s great! I must be doing good. So you all trust me now not to do the dirty deed?

Hardly. Do you know how vets keep dogs from biting their wounds after they have been treated?

Sure. A cone is strapped on over their head for a while.


You mean? You mean I’m going to have to wear one? Wear one over my dick?

That’s right. As I said now you won’t have to call us every time nature calls. Plus your willy will have fresh air. An airing-out.

With that said she opened a case she had carried in. There inside was an orange cone that resembled a funnel which was attached to a harness. Orange like prisoners uniforms. A smiley-face sticker served to mark its top. Spread your legs and we’ll get you strapped on.

Freddie looked on in amazement as the woman quickly brought him to an erection by cupping his balls as she caressed his pecker. She then slid the narrow end of the cone down over his upright cock. She followed this by putting his balls inside an orange sack attached to the bottom of the cone and tying it off with a tie-string. Then the leather harness was secured about the kid’s waist and where his thighs joined his butt. With a click of a small padlock and all was done.

Freddie looked down at the contraption to see the smiley-face smiling up at him as if to say hi there fellow.

Walk around to get used to it.

As he did the cock-cone bobbled from side to side like some searchlight scanning ahead. Weird. Particularly so with that smiley-face looking up at him so merrily.

Now for a little potty-training. Sit on the commode like you were going to take a shit.

In doing so he found that he had to tilt the cone up so that it didn’t hit the commode bowl. That was when he first got a glimpse of the inside of the wide open end of the cone. Good grief. Its inside was lined with an array of fishhooks pointed outwardly.

Hey, there are a bunch of hooks inside.

Ah, you noticed. Don’t worry, your cock isn’t long enough to reach them. They are there to keep your hands out. And don’t go to messing with them by trying to bend them. Do that and we’ll substitute one with razor wire. But you can take a dump okay. Right? You can spread your cheeks and all.

Yea, I’m good. I’m good? Why did I say that?
Okay. Now let’s see you piss.

Freddie looked down. Obviously he would have to stand and lean over the toilet. You’re going to have to lean far over for those hooks will tend to make for a little splattering.

The fourteen year-old felt like a complete fool as he found that he had to squat and lean far over to get the orange cone centered over the bowl.

Yea, that’s about right. Go ahead. Piss. Piss. Piss, Jimmy.

It’s Freddie.

He tried but couldn’t.

I can’t. I don’t need to.

Snap-pop The nurse had just given his bent-over butt a strike with her little dog whip for encouragement.


Just trying to help you get started.

I’m trying.

Try harder. Snap-Pop.


You’ll need to sit to shit.

Please ma’am; I can’t like this.

Alright. You can potty train yourself later. We have to get going. It’s time for your therapy session with Doctor Detrick. Here you go, she said as she tossed him a half-gown that went down just below his navel.


— – – – – – – – —


Down the hall they went with Freddie leading the way and Nurse Beatrice behind him with her little dog whip in hand. It was a struggle for the kid as he was wearing flat slippers. Each step was painful what with his feet having been whipped so much. But Beatrice was patient as she enjoyed seeing each step causing the fourteen year-old to wince and his butt to twitch from the few strikes of her dog whip.

From the other way came another boy of about twelve in a straightjacket. His walk was also a struggle as the male nurse Ben was poking him in the back with the handle of his ever-present dog whip. Each poke would cause him to twist to one side and then the other. Occasionally the man would give the exposed back of his thighs a pop with his whip to urge him on.

Good morning, Ben, said Beatrice. How’s it going?

Same old; same old. With that he pop-cracked his dog whip in the air. Beatrice did the same as if giving a return salute.

I know what you mean, he replied. How about you, Freddie? I see you’ve graduated to a cock-cone. Congratulations. Did you give him a plumber’s kit?

What’s that, inquired Freddie of Nurse Beatrice.

Just a kit to scrub your cone and cock with. For good hygiene. No, but I’m glad you reminded me. See you at lunch.

And off they went as Nurse Beatrice gave Freddie’s exposed ass a pop and Nurse Ben jabbed the kid in the straightjacket.

Past the cell with the boy who had been chanting Fuck this shit – Fuck this shit they went. He was still at it but now much quieter. Fuck this shit – Fuck this shit.

They entered Doctor Detrick’s office to find the doc rocking in his rocking chair beside the gurney engrossed in a magazine. In hearing them enter he quickly covered his copy of Handsome Scandinavian Gays on Parade with Freddie’s file.

More footwork this morning, doc? inquired Beatrice.

Let’s have a look. Sit on the gurney, Freddie.

As before he lifted up the fourteen year-old’s right leg and studied his well– whipped foot sole. Tell me if this hurts, he said as he gave his blistered foot a hard slap.


I see. Well let’s take a peek at your other one then. SLAP


Tender, is it?

Oh please, doc. No more.

Let’s take a look at your willy.

With that he strapped an exam light over his forehead and lifted the orange cock-cone to take a good look inside. There well below the annular array of fishhooks he found the kid’s imprisoned cock looking up at him in a semi-hard state.


Freddie looked down to see the man shinning the light all around inside with subtle motions of his head as the smiley face on top of the cone smiled up at him.

What is it, doc? inquired Freddie. Naturally he was curious. Who wouldn’t be?

Hum, is all he got for an answer as he felt the inquisitive man cup the prisoners orange pouch in which his balls were stowed. Then he went to messaging them.

Freddie felt his cock respond as it grew stiff. So stiff in fact that when the examining doctor released his hand that had been lifting the cock-cone and housed cock the cone remained uplifted by his now-hard dick. This actually felt good. But then.

But then Detrick’s sweet messaging turned into squeezing.


The examining therapist lifted his head to look at the kid’s face. In doing so his head-mounted exam lamp shined into Freddie’s eyes.


As the therapist continued to squeeze the kid’s nuts housed then in the orange cock pouch attached to the end of orange pink cock-cone Freddie went to rocking as he sat on the side of the gurney all stiff-armed.

On and on the therapist squeezed until Freddie finally took his hands off the side of the gurney and made a motion to grab hold of the doctor.

POP-CRACK POP-CRACK. The kid had almost forgotten about Nurse Beatrice.

The boy’s response was to abort his defensive motion and convert it to a wringing of his hands as the doctor continued to squeeze and twist his captured prize as he looked down into the cone well illuminated by his exam lamp. He found it quite intriguing to watch the peckerhead’s reaction to his squeezing and un-squeezing. Each time he would squeeze the little pee-hole on the cock’s knob would spread open only to close back once he squeezed. For a moment he considered the prospect of his writing a paper on this revelation. Of course first he would have to consult Doctor Google to see if the medical literature already had recognized this phenomena and implications.

A huge sense of relief overcame Freddie as the good Doctor Detrick pushed back away. The kid considered asking what the man had seen but then thought it best to keep quiet. While he was contemplating this the therapist had not only backed his rocking chair away from the gurney but had also turned it to one side.

Now Freddie I’d like you to bend over and place your forearms firmly upon the arms of my rocker. Nurse Beatrice I think a number six is in order.

Certainly, doctor.

A number six, thought Freddie. A number six what? The answer was quickly coming in the form of the sound of a rattan cane swishing the room’s air. Oh that.

Now Freddie I’d like for you now to rock me slowly back and forth while we have a little chat. The motion helps me to concentrate. Think you can handle that?

It’s just that my feet are.

Never mind your feet. You need not rock them. Simple sway back and forth with your forearms pressed down on the chair arms.

As he did he found it rather easy. No problem.

Good. Nice and slow but don’t be looking down like that. I want you to keep eye-to-eye contact with me. Good.

I believe it’s been some time now since you committed the evil act that brought you to us for therapy. Right?

Right. I can’t get near the thing with that thing on me.

The cock-cone.

Yes; cock-cone.

But what if it weren’t there. Do you think you now could stay clean and pure?

I . . . I hope so, doc.

It’s all mental, child. Sex is such a mental thing. The key is to chase away impure thoughts.


When you get aroused try to think of something ugly. Something disgusting.


Look around you. Do you see anything disgusting?

Freddie looked about only to have his eyes quickly fall upon Nurse Beatrice standing there behind and to one side of him with her big fat arms crossed as she held the cane with her legs spread. He tried to shift his eyes away but couldn’t.

Why Beatrice, I do believe our young patient here finds you ugly and disgusting.

No; no. I . . . I . . .

Swish THWICK! His butt had just paid the price for his hesitation.

No; really I.

You what? You find Nurse Beatrice attractive? Is that it?

No; no. She’s too old for me.

She’s ugly, disgusting and old, you say? What do you think of that, Beatrice?

What do I think? Here’s what I think.



A silence ensued.



Why have you disobeyed me?


I simply asked you to rock me. My rocking chair is not rocking, is it?

Oh; I’m sorry.

I think the boy need some reminding, Beatrice.



Detrick smiled as he found himself back to being rocked by the bent-over youth who was grimacing as he looked up at him through tearing eyes while the buxom Nurse Beatrice stood behind him in her white uniform holding the rattan cane and admiring the tramline welts that were budding on the kid’s ass. Though unseen the good and caring doctor also well knew that the boy’s cock and balls were stowed away in his cock-cone and balls-pouch.

Freddie, I’m sure you’ve seen flash cards used in school, right?

Freddie didn’t respond as he stared Detrick in the eyes as he continued to rock the therapist’s rocking chair with a sense of hatred in his heart.


Bitter silence.


Answer, boy, ordered Nurse Beatrice.

The rocking chair’s motion went from a continuous rocking to one of shutting as the pain from the cane cut rippled through the kid’s body.



Do keep the rocking steady, Freddie as we run through some flash cards. Shuttering brakes my train of thought. I prefer tranquil rocking. Nice and smooth at a leisurely pace.

A showing of bitterness joined the tears in the kid’s eyes as he concentrated on maintaining eye-to-eye contact and giving a slow and steady rocking of the rocking chair in which the therapist’s was seated staring down at him. The pain from the tramline welts the bitch nurse was raising on his butt had joined forces with the still lingering pain of his whipped feet soles.

Now tell me in single words the first thing that comes to your mind when you see these flash cards. With the said he tilted up the top card on a stack of cards he had moved from the floor onto his lap. It was a picture of a hot dog.

Silence as the kid tried to think.



Don’t try to think of an answer. I want the first word that comes to your mind spontaneously. How about this one?

The next flash card was a picture of a teen fucking a Billy goat.


That’s it. How about this one? This one showed a cute high school cheerleader in a red and white striped uniform on her knees giving a male cheerleader also in a red and white striped uniform a blowjob as he shouted at her with a megaphone.


As Detrick went to pull up the next card and add it to the others standing against his seated body Freddie intercepted it with one hand so that he could continue to soak in the sight of the cheerleaders. Wow.


None of that, boy. You behave, half-shouted Nurse Beatrice.

Back down went his offending hand onto the rocking chair arm as he resumed the rocking like some Chinese coolie.

Next was a picture of Doctor Detrick seated at a desk with his various degrees and licenses prominently displayed on the wall behind him.


Then came a picture of an ass with a turd half-way out over a dinner plate upon which another fresh turd laid. A knife and fork straddled the dinner plate. Salt and pepper shakers were to one side.


Next was a heavenly choirboy with his hands folded in prayer looking skyward with tears of love in his eyes.


Freddie saw the therapist lean to one side and enter a note on the notepad that he usually had had in his lap but had set aside for the flash cards. On no. He’ll think I’m gay.

I mean. You know I’m not.


Giving the least opportunity and she would smashed is butt. His ass was on fire. Yet still he had to rock the fucking rocking chair at a nice and slow pace for the doctor to be tranquil.

Freddie bit his lip as he watched Detrick put his pad and pen aside and raise the next flash card. This one showed a monstrous man’s cock at full ramming position with ugly veins running up and down its shaft framed by a mass of black pubic hair.


The next card was a photo of Nurse Beatrice swinging her dog whip with its lash about to strike right into the face of the camera.


This was followed by a photo showing male Nurse Ben in uniform with his cock and balls out face-fucking a boy of Freddie’s age with his dog whip looped about the kid’s neck. The kid’s identity had been blocked out with some blurring.


Next came a picture of a boy in the heat of masturbation. It was taken in profile with the kid all excited as he looked at a girly magazine. Watching the event was a photo of Freddie’s mother!

MOMMY! NO. That’s not me!

So it’s still mommy, is it?


Freddie’s hands flew back to his tortured ass as his face fell down with one cheek striking the remaining cards in the stack in the good doctor’s lap. As he rubbed his flaming ass he went into sobbing as he quietly muttered it’s not me. It’s not me, as the rocking chair came to a halt. Oh mommy; mommy.

With one hand Doctor Detrick waved off Nurse Beatrice as his other hand softly stroked the distraught boy’s hair. That was enough for this morning’s session with the kid.

Minutes later found Freddie in the hall being returned to his cell. His steps were labored from the whippings that his feet had taken in the days before. Even though he was wearing slippers they had no arches so that his tender and well whipped foot arches still smarted with each step.

As he walked in his half-length white hospital gown his orange cock-cone again swayed from side to side with his balls still snuggly tucked away in that little pink pouch.

He paused at the cell that housed the kid who had been chanting. There he saw him gently banging his head on the cell wall. But the chanting of Fuck this shit. Fuck this shit was no longer to be heard.


Nurse Beatrice had cracked her dog whip in the air. Move it kid. Move it. I have other patients to nurse back to health you know.

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