This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, is accidental and unintended. The story is for reading by, and only by, persons 18 or older.
"National Service" is what the authorities prefer to call it; but compulsory military service is what is really is. Liable to call-up in the first intake after the 18th birthday. Liable to serve for six unbroken months. No say over where the training is done. No say over who gets to be in the same hut for the six months.
Put thirteen 18-year old boys into that situation and sooner or later someone is going to get up to some serious mischief. Ban lap-tops, ipods and, worst of all, mobile phones and serious mischief will almost certainly turn into a cocktail of horseplay, boredom and sex. Add in the fact that tonight is the highlight of the whole 6 months because tomorrow morning it's all over and everyone goes back to life as usual in the real world, and that cocktail has reached what a winemaker would call its "optimum drinking time".
As one such 18 year-old was now finding out at first hand.
The confined area of the inside of the hut seemed to make everything larger than life: the writhing bodies; the hubbub of voices, kept down barely enough to avoid attracting unwanted official interest from outside the hut; the smell of sweat; and the unmistakable atmosphere of raw sexual excitement.
At the centre of all the activity was Jason Roberts. He was writhing in attempted resistance; but it was nothing more than a gesture in the face of the combined strength of the six pairs of strong hands, some of which were pinning him firmly to the floor, and the others of which were enthusiastically and none too gently stripping him naked.
Jason had been, naturally, surprised when they had jumped him. Surprise had become anxiety when voices told him that he was about to lose every stitch of clothing. Anxiety had become a mixture of panic and of cold fear when the voices told him, with plenty of suggestive detail, what was going to happen to him as soon as his stripping had been completed.
If you are going to be kept for 6 unbroken months in uncomfortably close quarters with 12 other restless and sexually excitable 18 year-olds, then you need at the very least a lot of good luck in the allocation of places. Jason could scarcely have had worse luck.
Jason came from a country family. The area in which the family lived was centered on a large country town containing about 5,000 or so inhabitants. The economy of the town centered upon two activities: farming was one; and a major railway repair -- works was the other.
Jason's father was a leading citizen in the town. He owned and operated one of the most successful vineyards in an area renowned for the quality of the wines that it produced. He owned and operated as well a hugely successful motor vehicle and agricultural machinery business. Jason was an only child; and his parents, determined to give him the best possible education, had sent him away to boarding school at the commencement of. his secondary schooling. A result had been that Jason had lost all real contact with the boys of his age with whom he had been at primary school.
Jason's call-up papers had required him to attend a pre-draft medical examination in his home town. When he had done so, he had discovered that a large group of boys with whom he had attended primary school had been called up in the same intake. When, subsequently, Jason had reported for duty and had been transported to the camp in which he would do his 6 months of service, he had found himself billeted in a hut with a very mixed bag of fellow conscripts, all of whom he knew from his childhood days, but all of whom had followed very different educational paths from Jason's own. Jason had realized that he had nothing much in common with his hut-mates, and that he would have to make a real effort to get along with them if the forthcoming 6 months were to be endurable. Of course, it was not lost on the hut-mates that Jason was different from them, and that the root of the difference lay in advantages that had come from being a rich man's only son. This was not, to put the point mildly, a good start from Jason's point of view.
There was worse to come.
Jason was, in any company, a striking young man. He was tall and well-proportioned. His features were markedly good-looking. His years at boarding school had given him poise and confidence. A good student, he had made the most of the opportunities offered by an academically distinguished school. He had been a Prefect and a Cadet Under-Officer. All in all, an attractive all-rounder.
It was the practice of the military authorities to select one of the boys in each hut to be Hut Corporal, and Jason was appointed for his hut. The duties were not burdensome, but there were real privileges for the boy who was chosen.
First, he was assigned a room of his own, located at one end of the hut. It was small, but it was at least private. It could be locked, and so was much more secure than the general dormitory-style accommodation that took up the bulk of the hut. At the same end of the hut, and across a short and narrow corridor, was a somewhat larger private room which was occupied by a Regular Army member who had been assigned to the general supervision of the boys in the particular hut.
Secondly, the Hut Corporal spent each day attending a specialized training course for Hut Corporals. The course had been provided because it had been recognized by the authorities that a boy appointed to be a Hut Corporal would normally have been a successful school cadet, and so would not need the ground-up basic training of the other conscripts. For a boy like Jason that was a decided plus. It had, however, a downside, namely that the Hut Corporal tended to be, and to be seen by the boys in his hut as being, apart from, and even aloof from, his 12 hut companions.
As the 6 months had passed, Jason had established a friendly enough relationship with his hut companions; but had not been particularly engaged with them except on occasions when he had been called upon to break up a fight, or otherwise to keep general order in the hut, especially at times when the assigned Regular Army monitor had been absent with leave, as happened frequently at night. He had witnessed plenty of rough horseplay among his hut companions, but, except for keeping an eye on the general order of the hut, had taken the view that it was better for him not to become involved in such high-jinks. "Do ye therefore unto others as ye would have them do unto ye" seemed to Jason to be eminently sensible advice for dealing with such situations.
And now the 6 months was over and done with. The Army did not provide anything in the way of formal recognition of the fact other than a formal march-out, which had taken place early this morning, and would be followed tomorrow morning by a general dismissal of the conscripts to their homes.
It was recognised, however, that 18year-old boys being what they are, there would be inevitably a good deal of blowing off of accumulated steam on their last night in camp. The Regulars had all been given leave for the night. Strongly worded warnings had been given about what would happen to anyone who trashed Army property. A later than usual "lights out" had been set. Otherwise the boys were left to their own devices.
It was probably inevitable that there would take root in the minds of Jason's fellows the idea that the last night of camp would be an ideal time to trash, not Army property, but their Hut Corporal, thereby making up in some way for the privileges that he had enjoyed during the past 6 months. As the final night drew nearer, such an idea did in fact take root and grew steadily stronger, fuelled by a niggling resentment of the way Jason had matured in ways to which they themselves could not aspire.
The idea was pushed in particular by half a dozen of the boys who were apprentices at the railway repair works. It was no secret among the boys in the town and its surrounding area that any new apprentice at the railway works did a short period of probation which, if completed satisfactorily, led to a formal apprenticeship; and that the formal apprenticeship was marked by a tough initiation ceremony which, although formally banned by the management, was carried out nevertheless by the other apprentices with the tacit approval of the foremen in charge of the actual workings of the shop-floor. The new apprentice, having been told in a joking way about the practice, would be left untouched long enough for him to think that he was going to be spared the experience. Then, just when it was obvious that his anxieties on that score had disappeared, he would be lured into a remote corner of the most remote of the workshop buildings, and there would be grabbed by the senior apprentices and made to hold tightly onto a bar suspended from a moving gantry. The bar would then be raised so that the apprentice's feet were just resting on the ground. Then, with much suggestive banter and mockery, the victim's boots, socks and overalls would be stripped slowly off; his underpants would then be even more slowly peeled away; and his balls and butt would be sprayed thoroughly with grease fired at them from a loaded grease gun. This rite of passage, which the railway apprentices had all undergone, was the basis of the plans which now began to take shape in careful secrecy as to what might be done to Jason.
The first phase of the plan called for a couple of the boys to act as decoys to keep Jason occupied outside the hut until everybody and everything was in readiness, and then to escort him in a normal and unsuspicious way into the hut where the trap would be waiting to be sprung.
The boys chosen for this job were white-collar workers: one an insurance clerk; the other a management trainee at the local Council. They were, it was calculated, the boys least likely to make Jason suspicious that something was afoot. They were encouraged to do their part by a promise that if they failed in their task, they would be tied, naked, face to face and dumped in a dark and distant corner of the parade ground where they would make a pretty sight when discovered tomorrow in broad daylight.
As Dr. Johnson famously remarked: if you tell a man that he is to be hanged tomorrow you will normally find that his mind becomes concentrated wonderfully. So it was with the two decoys. Directly following the evening mess they struck up an easy conversation with Jason, strolling together with him through the lines until the agreed time for their return to the hut. It was all very companionable and normal. Jason suspected nothing.
The three boys reached their hut shortly after nightfall. The hut was in darkness except for a faint light coming from the far end of the interior.
The boys entered the hut. The remaining 10 hut members were milling about in no particular way. Some of them started talking to Jason, distracting him from noticing that two of the biggest and strongest of the railway boys had slipped quietly into place behind him. In an instant the two had grabbed Jason's arms, forcing them behind his back in a powerful grip which Jason was unable, try as he might, to break.
Things moved quickly.
Jason was propelled forward to the farthest end of the hut and wrestled to the floor. He heard the door of the hut close. The windows, small and not shedding much light into the hut even during the day, had been simply but effectively masked. The light which Jason had noticed from outside the hut was strong enough to light up anything happening inside the hut, but not strong enough to catch the causal attention of anyone passing by outside the hut.
The full group of 6 railway boys now joined in the restraining of Jason.
"Yell, Jason baby, and we'll gag you for the duration with the dirtiest socks we can find, and there are plenty right here," he heard a voice murmur with quiet menace into his ear. "Just remember that old school tie stiff upper lip bit."
Jason's shoes and socks were pulled roughly off. His shirt followed.
"And now, Corporal Roberts sir, for the best part", he heard the same voice say. And at once he felt the belt of his khaki pants being undone, and the zipper being slowly and suggestively pulled down. He continued to struggle, but realising that he was going to get nowhere against the force now pinning him in place. He felt himself being lifted slightly, and his pants being removed.
The atmosphere was electric. Jason could smell the expectation in 12 pairs of eyes now fixed on his one remaining bit of clothing.
The murmurs were coming from all sides.
"How about that? Tighty-whities"
"Get them off"
" Yeah, slowly. Make the pretty boy squirm".
Jason felt fingers and thumbs slide into the waistband of his underpants, and slowly peel them off.
Jason could hear the heavy breathing. He could feel a dozen pairs of eyes roam over every inch of his nude body. His heart was beating fast; his head was whirling in shock and disbelief. He could not begin to imagine where things would go from here.
"Come on guys" he heard himself say, "please".
And again the voices from every angle.
"The rich kids don't look so different in the raw,eh?"
"Nice balls".
"Nice bush".
"Let's see him on the other side".
"Not yet. This side first".
"Come on," He heard himself say again, `Give me a break".
"Don't be scared", he heard a cool voice reply. "We're not going to hurt you. We're just going to change how you look. What about we start by shaving your head?"
Jason went cold with horror. He had blond, slightly waved hair. People often complimented him upon its appearance. To have to go home tomorrow with his hair butchered made his mind reel.
"Please", he begged, almost in tears, "please don't. Not my head. Please".
The same voice:
"We thought that's what you'd say. So here's the deal. Take it or leave it. For the next hour or so you take whatever we dish out. It doesn't matter what it is, you take it without a whimper. At any time you can tell us to stop, and we will; but we'll shave your head before we let you go. And we don't mean a bit of a clip here and there. We mean a full-on shave, first with an electric shaver and then a finish-off with a razor. Think how your folks and all your rich-kid friends will take that. People either feeling sorry for you or laughing at you week after week until you grow your hair back. Your call baby. Yes or no?"
"What are you going to do if I say yes?" said Jason, his voice not much more than a shaky whisper.
"No ifs or buts.Yes or no?"
Jason tried to get his mind to think clearly enough to weigh up the alternatives, but the very thought of that kind of head shave swamped every other consideration.
"Yes," he murmured, "but please, nothing else way-out".
A ripple of excited triumph swept around the circle of boys.
"What did I tell you guys?" he heard the now familiar voice say. "I told you that if we threatened a head shave he'd agree to almost anything to stop it. Now let's get on with what we've decided to do to him"
"Now, Corporal sir" the same voice continued matter-of-factly,"Your head's safe for the time being. But we think we'll shave your balls. I'd keep real still, if I was you".
Jason forced himself to say nothing and to stop any struggling, and watched in helpless horror as some of the boys came up and knelt beside him. They were carrying a cordless electric shaver, a disposable razor, shaving soap and a dish of warm water. They set to work quickly and silently, and in a matter of a few minutes Jason's balls had been shaved as clean as the proverbial whistle and dried off .
"Right" said the voice. "Now string him up like we've planned. It'll be easier that way to get at him"
Rough hands jerked Jason to his feet. His hands were pulled together in front of him. A very soft leather cuff was strapped around each wrist. A metal bar about a foot in length was produced and each cuff was clipped neatly into a cleat at each end of the bar. A thin chain was clipped to a cleat at the top of the bar; the other end of the chain was thrown over a rafter supporting the roof of the hut; and Jason's arms were drawn above his heard until he was standing on the hut floor, his body stretched upwards. At once a thick leather strip was wrapped around his mouth and fastened firmly behind his head.
"We reckon" said the voice "that it's better if we gag you before we go on. We don't want any noise to spoil our fun. By the way, we all chipped in to buy the cuffs and the other stuff at the local sex shop. Adds a nice touch doesn't it? Any time you want us to stop and go back to the head shave, just make the right noises and we'll get the message".
There was now a flurry of activity, and two of the boys came up to Jason each carrying a small pot and a thick cloth. It took Jason a minute to recognize the smell: boot polish. There was a murmur of excited voices:
"Rub it in good and strong"
"Yeah: smooth and thick".
Hands grabbed Jason's ankles, anchoring him in place, and the two boys set about the blackening. They worked quickly and efficiently, and in a very short while Jason's cock and balls were as black as the ace of spades.
By now Jason was limp with shock and embarrassment. Any temptation to think that there was nothing much more that they could do to him disappeared when he saw half a dozen of the boys approach each holding a tube. They set to immediately, squeezing a cream-looking substance out of the tubes and rubbing it vigorously into Jason's helpless body: one on each arm; one on each leg; one each on the front and rear of his torso. It took Jason a few minutes to realize from the smell of the substance that it was in fact hair-cream. In a matter of minutes his entire body, except for his balls and his ass, had been thoroughly worked over with the cream.
Then a lull during which the other boys stood around their naked and helpless victim surveying their handiwork.
"Please", Jason said to himself, "please let this be the end".
And so it was: almost but not quite.
"His ass hasn't been touched" said a voice from the group.
"Right on" replied the voice that had done most of the talking throughout Jason's ordeal. "We need a clean spot for our signatures"
"Our what?"
"Our signatures. Let's get a texta-pen and brand his ass with our initials."
Once more there was a murmur of agreement. A pen was produced from somewhere, (Jason was beyond caring about the fine details), and one by one his 12 hut-mates came up behind him and wrote his initials on Jason's bare ass. Jason writhed inside with embarrassment, but called up every last bit of self-control so as not to cry or to show in any other open way how degraded and humiliated he was feeling. He felt that, if he could only manage to do that for a while then his tormentors would lose interest in carrying on with their brutal ragging.
And that is more or less what happened. The butt-signing over, Jason heard the familiar voice:
"OK guys; let's call it quits. Get him down and take him to the shower".
Jason felt his bonds loosen, and his arms fall free. His arms and shoulders were aching terribly. He had a bare couple of minutes during which to try to rub a bit of life back into them, before being grabbed and hustled unceremoniously out of the hut and into the shower room which was attached to the rear of the hut and separated from it by a narrow concrete strip. Inside the shower room Jason was plonked down on a bench. The gag was removed. He was conscious that something was put down beside him. And then he was alone.
Jason could not stop himself shaking. He sat on the bench for what seemed like hours before he felt able to do anything. When he finally forced himself to stand up and to make some effort to clean the muck from his body, he saw that a couple of clean towels, some industrial strength soap, and a bottle of liquid dirt dissolver had been left on the bench.
Jason walked awkwardly into the shower and began to clean himself. It was a slow and sometimes painful business; but he began to make gradual progress. Suddenly, he heard a movement from just beyond the shower. His heart skipped a beat. Surely, he thought, they've done enough.
"Jason, are you OK?" he heard someone say softly. And at the same moment he saw standing a couple of feet away from him the insurance clerk and the Council trainee. They were naked except for bath towels wrapped around them. Before Jason could say anything, the trainee spoke:
"Jason", he said softly, "we feel rotten about what we did earlier tonight, but they scared us by saying what they would do to us if we stuffed up. We just couldn't leave you here alone to clean up the sort of mess that you're in. So we told them that we were going to come and help and that they could like it or shove it. Nobody said anything or tried to stop us, so here we are. You can chew us out if you want, but please let us do something to make up for having helped get you into this mess".
Jason was emotionally whacked by the events of the night. All he wanted was to clean up as best he could, creep back into his little room; lock his door, and be alone wrapped up safely in bed. He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and a slight nod of his head.
At once the two other boys shucked their towels and stepped into the shower, one on either side of Jason. Working gently and efficiently, they managed to get Jason pretty well cleaned off, except for the boot polish upon which they could make very little progress. Having done what they could, they helped Jason dry off. Jason stood still, his eyes closed, his body limp. He felt the tears, kept until now under control, well up.
And then, so quickly that the moment had passed before Jason had properly realized what was happening, he felt each of the two boys kiss gently one of his closed eyelids. He felt two sets of arms fold gently around him. He felt a towel fold around his waist. He felt his feet begin to move. When he next came properly to his senses, he was in his bed. He drifted almost at once into an untroubled sleep.
When he woke the following morning, he noticed on his bedside chest of drawers a folded sheet of notepaper. Opening it, he read:
"J.
We thought you were so brave last night. We admire you a lot.
We have decided to flat together after our release today from this rotten dump, and to start a new life together. We would like you to be a part of that life. Please say yes."
The note was initialed by the clerk and by the trainee.
Jason sat for quite a while on the side of his bed, deep in thought. Last night was over and done with, and, being practical, nothing could be done about what had happened. These two particular boys had not been under any obligation to help him as they had done. Jason could see in his mind's eye the two beautiful naked bodies wrapped around him in a soothing cocoon. He could still feel the soft touch of gentle and comforting lips on his eyes. "Please say yes". A sudden stirring of his cock came like a sign .
"What", he asked himself "is that old saying? Yes, I remember. It's an ill wind that blows no good".
He nodded and smiled.