Iyoio2000

The War of Boys

1.

April and May had been very promising and by June temperatures showed a steady 30 degrees C [90 F]. The boys in the village were preparing for the war of boys. Like their fathers and their father's fathers they had to defend the honour of their village. Defend against other small villages, scattered around in the sunlit valley.

Every year the war of boys was the main event for the valley kids. All boys from 6 to 13 were drafted as soldiers. Although no adult ever would participate, and any boy over thirteen had crossed the barrier of shame, the war was far from innocent.

The main battle had to wait for the summer break, but the first groups had already engaged. Weekends and Wednesday afternoons witnessed the initiating challenges.

The first real warm Saturday the boys gathered at their secret meeting place, well hidden in the forest leading to the enemy village. Some forty children sat and listened. When Rémi spoke, others listened. Rémi, though not the oldest and by far not the strongest, was the born leader. He measured 150 cm [5 ft.], had chestnut hair, and a freckled face. He wore trainers, no socks, shorts with no underwear – like all boys – and an open shirt. The boy had a natural smartness and wit. This summer he would turn twelve. He wisely chose his adjutants. These second in commands compensated Rémi's lack of strength. Four thirteen year-olds stood by Rémi wherever his words might fall short. Four well built lads. Jean was the strongest boy to defend his village, but the twins Pierre and René when combined in battle rarely found their match. Short Antoine was the ugliest but his attacks were vicious and unmerciful.

Well, now Rémi stood before a crowd of excited boys. His four Musketeers ready to enhance the boys' attention.

"This year we will get those cheap goat-fuckers. My older brother has retired and I have sworn to him that no way will they get to us again! This time it'll be us who'll do them."

The boys cried and cheered. No enhancing to do for the four Musketeers.

"Today we will make our first captives. We will take 'em and they will talk. No more surprise attacks by that lot."

The handsome eleven year-old stopped to let his words sink in. His soft tender features, his prepubescently boyish chest, his open eyes, his proud nose, his thin lips made the impression of a shy timid little boy. But his words were that of a teen with a purpose.

"You, Gilles, and you, Guillaume, yes and you, Frédéric, Paul, Cyrille and Apoll, you will head today's strike. Get us a boy or two, and bring them here." Rémi chose his first squad, all ten to twelve year-olds. He then appointed ten sentries, the little ones from 6 to 8.

"And you, Jean, you will lead the patrol," thus reducing his musketeers to three. All seven boys rose and faced the other boys. They all wore shorts and trainers. But now they took off their shirts. They stood bare-chested and enjoyed the cheers of their mates.

Rémi approached the half naked boys. He kissed each of them on the mouth. A symbol that their leader gave them life and confidence. Pierre and René, two of the Musketeers, then took a bag full of sand, mud, ashes and unknown dirt. They baptised the seven. The seven now were covered in dirt and their body and few items of clothing effectively in camouflage.

2.

It took them another 15 minutes to be positive about the noise. Human, and more importantly child noise. Five more minutes, boys' noise.

The forest, at times thick and dark, now became lighter and brighter. They approached a part that would be used as play territory. Once more Jean paused. He then beckoned Gilles and Guillaume, two ten year- olds. "Sneak your way towards the clearing," he hushed. "Then report back. Do not engage. We wanna be sure what we're up against." Gilles and Guillaume nodded and threw themselves almost flat on the ground. Snake-like they tigered and crawled. Soon they were out of sight. All the others could do was wait.

Their wait lasted not that long. Of course they would have sworn it to last an hour or more, where in fact it took Gilles and Guillaume less than 20 minutes to report back. They were covered in sweat and the dirt and ashes were disrupted by meandering streaks of sweaty rivers. They now were as dirty as they looked. The two quickly described what lay ahead. "Sir, enemy at 300 meters [1000 ft.]. All boys. Young boys. Midgets. But there are two soldiers. We could separate them from the minions and make the strike." Jean and his friends were excited. The first patrol, and they wouldn't let Rémi and the others down.

3.

Unlike Paul. Paul had had to take all his clothes off. In front of his friends the naked boy was marched to the trying tree. He then had been ordered to jump and grab the branch . The branch so many sweaty hand had held. Now Paul had been swaying, stretched. His chest now a ribcage, his limp sex joining in the swaying motion. Then the pain began. Pain physically, inflicted by a still angry mentor who had placed himself in perfect position. Invisible for poor Paul, in perfect distance for maximum lashing. More pain physically, being forced to hang free. Evidently letting go of the branch meant total humiliation, perhaps demotion or even excommunication. And pain psychologically, all stretched and naked, reduced to a fully exposed bare little cry-baby. With the ultimate degradation of an ever stiffening penis.

But this moment all that could be erased. Jean looked at Paul, both boys gleaming. 'Had Paul been thinking the same,' Jean wondered. Well, never mind. War was at hand. Life had purpose. They should be concentrating on the strike.

4.

Apoll was followed by Cyrille. The others shortly behind. When they reached the clearing They closed in. Seven warriors taking an expert look. They liked what they saw. Some ten little boys were herded by two older ones. The little boys were playing and running and laughing. 'Good,' thought Jean, 'Make all the noise you can. You won't hear us.' The two older boys were lying bored in the grass. This would be so easy. The midgets posed no threat. They were barely six years old. Their babysitters appeared to be around ten years old. Soldiers. Captives, enemies, faggots, goat-fuckers, pussies.

Now.

Guillaume and Gilles jumped up, lashing a whip and striking sticks. They charged the minions. Masked, yelling, covered in dirt and sweat. Wearing clothes but effectively as naked as a wild animal. The babies screamed and ran. All directions. Some received blows, some fell, some wet themselves. In seconds a peaceful group of midgets was scattered.

The two soldiers were startled. Before they could react their herd was gone. And now they faced three dark masked animal-like shapes. They tried to run, tried to fight but were too… everything. They even attacked each other. Now Jean and his lieutenants made the final charge. They jumped the boys. They kicked and beat and grabbed and held. And when Apoll and Cyrille joined, the two boys were defenceless. They were turned on their stomach. Hands forcedly bent, tied behind the back. Blindfolds covered the eyes.

Gilles and Guillaume were just in time to see the blinding. All seven studied their prey. The boys surely were about Guillaume's and Gilles's age. They wore no shoes or socks. Long trousers, and blue shirts.

"Search them," Jean ordered.

Apoll took one boy, Cyrille the other. Apoll searched the pockets, and took a cloth from it. Laughingly he opened the boy's mouth. Gagged! Cyrille discovered that his captive had a hole in his pockets. He then searched the boy's privates.

"No hair, sir!"

"And no cloth."

Jean then took a knife. He cut the shirt from the boy. "Now gag him."

The two hostages were pulled to their feet. Military took over again. Very swiftly the seven warriors moved to their stronghold again, hurrying their passengers along. "We must be quick. We don't know if those babies have reached their soldiers yet," Jean said.

"Let's make it back home."

5.

The boys had been very excited. Guillaume and Gilles boasted their famous attack on the minions. "These crybabies could need a good training. What a sissies!"

"Yes," added Apoll, "their soldiers could do with some real men's training too!"

"But they will learn, the hard way," laughed his friend Cyrille. They all now wondered what would happen to their prey. Two boy soldiers. One shirtless. His shirt served as a gag. Both barefoot. Both long trousers. These trousers won't survive the day, they expected. The boys surely should loose their clothes. And deserved true punishment. The hangboy would be busy. With a shiver all boys contemplated the predicament they could be in, if sites were reversed.

"Let's take a good look at them," Frédéric suddenly suggested.

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, make 'em naked and feel 'em."

"Yeah," Paul shouted. The seven warriors suddenly forgot about their mission. All they saw now were the two trembling boys. Eagerly the small fingers of ten year-olds Gilles and Guillaume reached for the buttons ands ropes that prevented their prisoners from being exposed. The prey wiggled to avoid the probing fingers. Their hands tied behind their backs, the poor prisoners were no match, and when they lost their balance and fell down, there was no escape. The seven had all means, even all rights to strip them. After all, prisoners of war were the lowest. How were they entitled to not being naked. Of course they had to be undressed like the little powerless boys they were.

But… Just in time Jean returned to reality. Rémi would notice, the musketeers would know, the prey might talk, the little adjutants might inadvertently tell on them. "No!" Jean ordered. "Their place in the spotlight will come. Now we have to be obedient and deliver the prey to our home. Let Rémi decide." Disappointed, but somehow relieved Paul and Frédéric let go. Of course Jean was right. Rémi would be angry and mad if he found out. Yet very quickly Paul managed to squeeze a little fumble in. He grabbed the bare-chested's crotch and enjoyed a firm feel of the boy's cock. In his gag the boy cried, but no one heard.

The seven now continued their journey home. Forcing along the two prisoners. One of the captives now was wondering if he should be glad that he had escaped stripping, the other softly cried in his blindfold. His penis still hurt.

6.

Like land discovering explorers, little Luc first saw the away party. The sentry-boy ran as quick as his seven year old feet could carry him to home. To the meeting place, their head quarters. "They're coming, they're coming, they're coming!" The camp exploded. All boys gathered around Luc. A very proud sentry pointed to the east. Now they all saw. Seven dark and dirty warriors. Two captive enemies, tied and gagged, blindfolded, struggling to keep up. The camp became war base. After all, war had brought a first victory. Military had prevailed, so now should also discipline. All boys took their place. Sentries at the perimeter, bodyguards surrounding capitaine Rémi. The three musketeers at the gate to welcome the seven, especially their peer Jean. And all other boys at attention, forming a corridor. The seven and the two prisoners walked the corridor. To Jean and his lieutenants it seemed like a ticker-tape parade. To the prey like running a gauntlet without seeing one.

At the end of the corridor Rémi waited. He beckoned four strong lads, Eric and Christian and Alain and Jules. With their twelve years they were able to obey, and execute military orders. "Guard the slave-pigs. They will not move." Firmly the prisoners were held. Now Rémi walked past his away party. He kissed all boys, again on the mouth. He lovingly stroke their hair, and Gilles and Guillaume he patted on the shoulders, never minding the fact that they were very dirty. "Good work, soldiers mine. I love you. And now, tell me how my orders were executed." Jean reported, carefully avoiding the near-stripping incident. After he had finished, he tenderly was caressed by his eleven year-old patron.

"Housewives," Rémi shouted. At once ten little boys ran towards their commander. "Housewives, be a good mother and wash our heroes. Make sure they are treated with respect." The little boys, all six or seven years old, were naked but for not too wide shorts. They had to do chores, keep the place tidy. In fact they were far too young to be of any use in combat, but as serving housekeepers they were priceless.

The 'housewives' knelt in front of the seven heroes. "Sirs, we beg of you permission to undress you and wash your bodies. Please grant us access to your bodies." Smilingly the older boys gave permission. They now were taken to the naked spot. This area of some 25 square meters [270 square feet] was surrounded by fences, with one open side. No one was to wear clothes in there. At the entrance the seven boys waited. First the little boys lowered their shorts. A little boy that was to undress an elder, of course had to be made naked himself. All ten were naked. They took care of the soldiers. In order of seniority. Gilles and Guillaume were first. Guillaume had experienced this before. Of course he had had to undress older boys in his own house wiving time. Gilles however never had been stripped by little boys. The effect showed. Red faced he popped a boner as the little fingers exposed the little member. Guillaume laughed, and teasingly he grabbed his friend's stiff dick. "Cut it out" Jean ordered. The midgets will disrespect you. The other boys were undressed without incident. Buckets with warm water were brought. Sponges and little boy's quick and careful fingers and hands went at work. Soon the soldiers were clean. The buckets were emptied. The ten cleaning boys knelt in submission before their naked elders. These kissed each little one on the mouth, roughing their hair. No greater sing of respect was imaginable for the ten happy lads. They now had to wash the dirty clothes of the soldiers who in the meantime were clad in robes, not unlike Roman's tunics.

All this time the two pig-slaves were held by Eric and his aids. It was agreed by unwritten law that any handling of prisoners would have to wait as long as their captors were not available. Time stood still in effect. Of course for the two captives time went in overdrive inside their fearful minds. What would happen next? What would be done to slaves? What punishment lay ahead? They had gathered from all surrounding noise that this camp was large, swarming with enemies. Escape?? Impossible. Yet their dignity demanded action. Not this coward little boy's humiliating slave position.

Then Jules and Christian were given a stick by ugly musketeer Antoine. The two boys hit the pigs in the kneecap. The pigs were forced on their knee. Submission as slaves. Punishment time had begun….

7.

All boys had gathered. That is all except five little boys, the sentries that had to keep alert. After all war was on, and a surprise attack to liberate the pigs was possible. The five were proud to perform their important duty, yet disappointed to miss the pig trial. Pig trials were very exciting.

Christian and Jules had forced the pigs down, on their knees. They stepped aside. Eric, Christian, Alain and Jules still controlled their pet slaves. Opposite of them Rémi was seated on a solemn chair, the throne. He was surrounded by his four musketeers. Rémi stood up and silenced the crowd of giggling and chatting boys. "Thomas and Thierry, come to me."

Two six years-old nervously complied. They approached the now sitting Rémi. Rémi opened his knees and led the little ones to his chest. He hugged the bare-chested and gave them the kiss of confidence. "You will start the initiation of the pigs. Listen to me and all will be fine."

Thomas and Thierry beamed. Thierry's excitement even prompted his little dickie to stand at attention. Rémi smilingly gave the little boner a loving stroke, which enhanced the tenting in the boy's short.

"And now, take off the pigs' blindfold." Slowly the six years-old removed the folds. The two prisoners kept their eyes firmly shut, and it took them time to adjust to the light of the warming sun. Finally they saw. All their speculations were now tested. They were not happy. In the hands of an enemy army that seemed well organised. Escape left their mind, survival was now the objective.

"Take off their gags."

The little masters obeyed.

"You, pigs! Kiss the feet of your little masters!"

The pigs didn't understand.

"Make them understand, Pierre and René."

The twin musketeers turned, took a cane from the instruments' table, stepped forward and hit the kneeling captives. Three times. Once on the back, once on the chest and once on the buttocks. The tied boys screamed, surprised by the violent pain.

"And now, kiss your masters' feet."

The one that has lost his shirt first understood. He painfully stretched his head, lowered it and gave both feet of his young master Thierry a submissive kiss. The other quickly did the same to Thomas.

"Thomas and Thierry, remove the one left shirt."

Eagerly the little boys grabbed the shirt of the still clothed pig. Using nails, fingers teeth they tore the garment, leaving this pig as naked as the other.

Rémi made a lifting gesture. Alain, Jules, Christian and Eric forcibly stood the boys up. The pigs now saw the whole camp. Rémi on his throne, the musketeers, the table full of instruments of pain, the little boys, the older soldiers. Terror showed on their faces. Suddenly one began to cry. A wet spot formed on his trousers.

"He has pissed himself!" the boys cheered, added with pig's grunting. The pig was now crying his heart out. "Mummy, mummy." Two house wives brought a bucket of cold water and when Rémi signalled they drenched the pissing toddler. His captive friend was shocked.

"And now, let's peel them."

8.

Thomas treated his pig as a soldier. He looked him in the eye, nodded in respectful sympathy. The pig nodded in return, allowing the little boy to do what was to be done. Gracefully Thomas stripped the boy, and when his prisoner had lost all his clothes and was still secured by Alain and Jules, little Thomas too knelt before Rémi. Thierry and Thomas were proud, but also very excited by their well performed duty. Their excitement showed. Two rigid pricks poked two very tense shorts. "Come her, sweet boys," Rémi commanded. Both boys stepped betweens the open knees of their leader. Rémi once more rewarded the obedient little fellows by kissing them, this time for quite a while. He the pulled them closely to his body. He touched the bare skin, and his fingers caressed the naked skin. Finally the fingers probed the tenting shorts, and to his joy both boys had their pricks moving and throbbing beyond control.

Exhausted the two little boys were led away.

Time now to think of the slaves again. Rémi liked the sight of the two helpless bare pigs. Their bodies now were covered in sweat, even that of the soaking boy. Sweat of fear, sweat of anxiety. If it hadn't been enemy soldiers now reduced to naked pig-slaves, Rémi would have called them beautiful. His eyes scanned the front of both. Nice round nipples, a belly button of perfect proportion, and two boy cocks, still completely hairless. Balls not too big, not too small. Their bodies would have been judged to be in order, but now it was time to try them as pigs, as enemies. It did not matter if the boys had perfect cocks, if they were able to shoot, if their erection was memorable. What did matter if they could handle humiliation, if they succeeded as slaves, as animals, as pigs. If they would cope with the next level, if they could face their deserved destiny as boys that had lost the right to be boys.

"Take them to the courtroom."

9.

At the other end of the camp, well out of sight of eyes preying from a distance, in fact hidden from the eyes of the two naked pigs right until they were led there, was a small opening in the bushes that looked like the final perimeter of the compound. The opening gave way to a small corridor. After ten metres [30 ft.] the corridor ended in another opening, this time to the actual courtroom. This room was a cleverly built barn. Cleverly because it blended perfectly into the environment. Bush and trees all around, the rear in line with a steep hill. You had to be taken there to find it. Today two pigs were taken there, on trial. Inside the room was an elevated stage. Overlooking this stage was a throne for the capitaine and several seats for the musketeers and other high ranking officers. Facing the throne at the side of the entrance were seats for soldiers or little boys, the spectators. The tied naked boys were led on the stage, to a circle that indicated that they were at the right spot. Carried behind them was the instrument's table. It was set at the edge of the stage. While the guards kept the pigs in place, the room now was filled with boys. Rémi occupied his throne. Fearfully the two naked prisoners noticed that the boy wore a white wig. The musketeers found their seats, and so did the lesser soldiers. At the edge of the stage, their eyes just overlooking it, sat the young ones, the housewives or pupils.

When all were seated, musketeer Pierre rose. "Judge Rémi present, all rise!" And all boys rose, nodded their heads in respect and submission, and sat down again. The two pigs were not quick enough. Their guards were handed a cane. They hit the unwilling disrespectful slaves on the back and buttocks. Now at last they lowered their heads.

Again Pierre rose. "Enter the hangboy!" All rose, turned their eyes. Their eyes met the figure of a well built boy of twelve years old. The boy was naked. He proudly showed his beautiful bare body. His cock stood out in front and measured some ten centimetres [4 inch]. His chest was painted with red and black stripes, that continued around his back and behind. His hands wore black leather gloves, and his face was invisible. The naked boy wore a hood, a black hangman's hood. Proudly the hangboy ignored his victims and strode towards the throne of the judge. There he knelt in obedience and respect. He was stood up by Rémi's gentle touch and received a kiss of confidence.

"Secure the pigs," Rémi ordered.

The hangboy now turned to the pigs. Fear filled their eyes as they saw the naked boy with his painted body and frightening hood. The boy stopped in front of the two who were firmly held by their guards. The hangboy felt his victims. He touched their chest and faces, stroking their hair and mouth. He walked around them, gently, almost caressing their backs. His fingers felt between the cheeks, touched the crack, explored their holes. Once again he faced them and now his hands stroke the boy cocks. The cocks were uncircumcised. Soon the attention of the gentle fingers caused them to rise to a full erection. When the boys almost began to feel comforted, the hangboy suddenly squeezed their boy balls. Screams indicated that the squeeze was not tender.

"Release their bonds," the hangboy whispered. Jules then cut the ropes. The pigs' hands were free. The hangboy looked up. He signalled to Antoine.

Antoine rose and walked to the right wall of the room. There he took hold of a wheel. He turned the wheel, and now the hangboy looked up again. All worked fine. From the ceiling were lowered two beams. Each beam had rings at the end. "Attach leather bracelet with ring to the pig's wrists," he now ordered. Alain and Christian secured the rings and bracelets. By now the beams were level. The hangboy connected the wrist rings with the rings on the beam. Once again the pigs were secured.

Antoine awaited the final signal. At last it came, and now the wheel was turned again. As the beams rose, so did the slave's arms. Finally the pigs had met their perfection. Stretched naked, on tiptoes, facing a crowd of excited boys. No wheel was needed to stretch their dicks. The audience cheered and whistled as both slaves added to their stark naked humiliation the final degradation of being fully erect in front of enemy boys.

10.

"Hangboy, we need the pigs to identify themselves," Rémi announced.

The hangboy faced the slaves. His eyes wandered over the exposed front of the two. Armpits grotesquely open, arms stretched, almost overstretched, chests invitingly offered, tits erect in fear or excitement, belly buttons pulled wide open, hips pushed forward, legs long ending in painful tiptoes. But the hangboy's eyes finally rested on the rock hard boy poles that seemed to lift the naked bodies even more than the beams from the ceiling. Münchhausen pulling himself not by the hair but by an expanding cock. The hangboy got closer. He pushed his own nude body to the stretched skin of one of the pigs. He felt the erection poking into his tummy like a blunt dagger. His arms embraced the slave. Two naked bodies now were seen as one lump of boy skin.

"You pig, speak and give name." Barely audible the pig whispering replied: "Tresor." The other slave now was embraced. It answered: "Daniel." The hangboy rewarded Tresor and Daniel by gently stroking the exposed boy balls and hard dicks. Pain and pleasure filled the minds of the poor pigs.

"Judge, sir, the names of your slaves are Tresor and Daniel."

"Hangboy, well done. You will question our little prey, but first you must punish them."

"What is their crime, sir?"

"Their crime is being taken captive in wartime, sweet boy".

So now the naked hangboy turned to the instrument's table. He carefully chose the item that would punish such obvious crimes. His hand held a whip about a metre [3 ft.] long. It ended in three knots, each by itself capable of inflicting pain but combined sufficient to redeem any war crime. Tresor and Daniel now looked at a well equipped hangboy.

Rémi rose and with a boy's voice but a judge's tone he announced: "I, judge Rémi, declare the pigs Tresor and Daniel guilty of surrendering to the enemy. You will answer with your bodies. I condemn you to ten lashes with the three-end-whip."

The hangboy kissed the slaves, hugging their shaking body. Again erect sexes drilled his stomach. He measured the distance, stretched his strong right arm and lashed the helpless backs. In turn, strike by strike. Every strike made a whistling sound and was echoed by the shrill screams of the beaten pig. By the tenth lash the name pig matched the squeaks of both pig slave.

Finally the punishing was over. Hanging by their wrists both naked boys seemed beyond caring. Caring about their naked position, caring about their pricks more erected than they ever had experienced, caring about the fact that they were watched by boys that were in majority younger or even much younger than they themselves, caring about the tears pouring down their faces, the sweat that covered every bit of their body. For a short while they had been boys again, albeit in a degrading way. Now they were animals, naked pigs, slaves without honour or right. All they now could do was wait for their masters to decide what was to happen to them and any part of their exposed body.

At last they passed out.

The End?