Jungle Boy

Jungle Boy 6

by George Gauthier

Author's Note: This is a tale of a young actor in Hollywood and his utterly improbable adventures in the movie business. This sixth installment features a pair of new protagonists in place of Jason Eberly, the original Jungle Boy of the first five tales, and his friends. It is set about fifteen years later than Jungle Boy 5.

It contains graphic descriptions of the male human body and of sexual activity between adult males, the youngest of whom is seventeen years old. It depicts scenes of consensual and non-consensual sexual activity, bondage and submission.

If any of this would offend a reader, proceed no further. This is not intended for persons younger than an age where they may freely and legally select their reading matter in whatever jurisdiction that applies.

It is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living or dead. Occasional references by characters to real motion pictures and actors and others in the movie business are simply to lend verisimilitude to a tale about persons in show business. None of the real people mentioned in passing is in any way part of the tale. Neither the author nor any of his heirs or assigns has any connection whatsoever to the movies except as fans.

Readers who like these stories might want to try my 'Daphne Boy' historical tales or my 'Naked Prey' series of tales in a modern setting, posted in the Gay/Beginnings section of the archive. Also, try my 'Track and Field' stories in College and my 'Mer-Boy' stories in Gay/Beginnings. For links to all my stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive for George Gauthier.

All rights reserved.

Chapter 1. The Torch is Passed

"Well, Sandy, are you ready to bare all for your first nude scene?"

"I guess I am sir, er ... Jim," the nervous young actor told the director, "I just hope my folks don't disown me for all the nudity in this picture. I'm stark naked in more than half my scenes. A lot of the nudity seems entirely gratuitous and there is so much of it that the picture is the next thing to soft core porn. Especially that scene where I get captured and abused by the minions of the evil sorcerer."

"All the original Jungle Boy pictures were like that, my young friend. With actors like you and Jason Eberly, it is not just your pretty face that sells seats. It's about sex appeal and vulnerability. It the titillation of seeking a shapely young nude blond male in an action movie. That's what sells the pictures, a combo of high adventure plus sex appeal. The rest of the movie team supplies the adventure; your job is to supply the sex appeal. That's why the costume budget for this picture is so low. Look at the costume they gave you, a skimpy loose sleeveless tunic. On top, the loose fit shows off most of your chest as you move. As for below the waist, well the bottom hem reaches only one-third of the way to your knees; that's barely enough to cover your rump and the fork of your legs. And that peekaboo outfit won't survive the first reel. After that, all your scenes will be in the rude nude."

"You do realize that you have already been flashing your butt cheeks when the script called for you to run or jump along the jungle trail. As for showing all your tush or the full monty, you knew that was what you signed up for, why the studio hired you. You look scrumptious in the altogether, as did your predecessor. Look at what nudity did for the career of Jason Eberly. He was stark naked for all but three short scenes in his breakout picture 'Naked Prey'. I know, I was there twenty years ago as his director. I knew right away he would be a big star. As the new incarnation of the Jungle Boy, you are going to have to get used to running around starkers in front of a film crew. At least this is a remote location with no one else around."

Sandy Barnett nodded, yeah, no one else but the forty-seven people on the film crew. He shrugged, and stepped up to the edge of the forest pool. What director Jim Nichols had said was all true enough. And it was not like he was really body shy, not after three years on the swim team competing in tiny racing briefs not to mention the last two years working as a male model. Many of his gigs had him showing lots of flesh for the camera and the buyers lining the runway both, and more than a few times he had been fully naked.

Anyway attitudes toward nudity had changed a lot in the first four decades of the twenty-first century, even in America, the last hold out for nudity taboos. The law too was changing with the times. There were many clothing optional beaches around now with nude beach volley ball competitions, nude swimmers, and nude runners. The larger parks in major cities had sections given over to nude sunbathing. Runners for cross country teams at some colleges thought nothing of running down the back road absolutely starkers. Restrictions on what could be shown in the movies or on television were virtually non-existent at this late date, some sixty years after the first instance of full-frontal nudity on American TV. As always, Europe was way ahead of the U.S. Almost anything could be presented on screen, as long as moviegoers had adequate notice of what was on offer. You had to do something pretty outrageous these days to get arrested for what they used to call public indecency.

The script called for Sandy's character Axel to swim to the bottom of the pond to look for a magical orb, one of a set to three, whose powers were the only thing that could save the world from an evil sorcerer who aspired to godhood. Sandy stepped to the edge of the pool and pulled his light tunic over his head, holding it a moment before tossing it aside. The camera swept over the trim and taut physique of the young actor. It dwelled on the tautness of his shapely buns as he shifted his weight, kicking off his sandals. There, now he was fully nude. The boy actor was not wearing a modesty pouch either. He really was bare ass naked for the scene, letting it all hang out.

Not quite eighteen and looking younger, Sandy was a lovely youth. In keeping with the traditions of the Jungle Boy pictures he was anything but a big muscle man, certainly no Tarzan of the Jungle. Sandy, like his character Axel, was but a boy who was not quite a man, a short, slender, and slightly built teenager, but in top physical condition. Sandy had more of a swimmer's build than a cross country runner like Jason Eberly. He was a comely lad standing barely four inches over five feet (163 cm) and weighing only 112 pounds (51 kg). He had a fawn-like physique but with a wiry musculature, toned and taut from daily swimming and running. Like Jason, Sandy were preternaturally beautiful, much prettier than a boy had any right to be, with delicate features, a straight nose and high cheekbones framing large green eyes with hair the color of straw. As a competitive high school swimmer, he had submitted to treatments to remove all the hair on his body, little as it had been, even in his armpits and at the fork of his legs, leaving him permanently smooth and boyish.

The camera loved him. Although short, his body was well proportioned and incredibly toned, taut and trim with the muscular upper storey of a swimmer. Add in those killer abs and an all-over tan, he was poetry in motion. While running, he was as graceful as a gazelle. In the trees, he was as quick and nimble as a squirrel. The way he swam it was as if the waters parted willingly to let him pass, taking their pleasure in being able to touch and kiss his lovely body everywhere at once. It was as if he really were a creature of the sea, switched at birth for a mer-boy or sea sprite.

They were doing several slo-mo shots just to show off Sandy's athleticism and raw animal appeal. From his tiny red nipples to a deeply indented navel, to narrow hips framing a surprisingly ample manhood for one so slight in build, Sandy was real beauty. He carried so little body fat that his flat belly showed a tracery of downward pointing veins just under the skin. The beat of his heart was visible on the left side of his smooth chest. His rump jutted out just the right amount, twin mounds of firm flesh begging to be grabbed. He was sleek and smooth, deeply and evenly tanned from much exposure to the sun while in the nude at the beach or outdoor pool. The sheen of sweat on his skin made him shine in the bright sun, his wiry physique a vision of youthful male pulchritude.

With the camera behind him and feeling very self-conscious, Sandy put the knife in his teeth and bent at the knees, letting the camera capture the play of the muscles of thighs and buttocks as he dove into the water, inadvertently flashing his genitals as he plunged in head first. It took several takes before the director was satisfied. The camera crew then filmed the ending of the scene when Sandy's character clambers back onto shore to bestow the orb he had retrieved on his mentor, the old monk who had set him upon this quest.

The camera caught the boy then from the front and not just from the waist up. The director had the cameraman capture his whole body, first in a long shot, then a tracking shot from ankles to head, lingering just a tad for the shot of the full monty. Sandy was quite respectable in that department especially for one with his slight build. He had a smooth cock with a vein running along the top of the shaft from his belly to where the foreskin hugged his cock head, outlining the ridge of the glans under the skin, leaving just the slit at the tip of the head visible. Cock and balls were reasonably sized but he wouldn't be scaring the horses. It might take both his small hands to cover his erection, but only one when he was soft.

Then it was time for close-ups, but even for those the boy remained nude even though, from the hips on down, he was out of frame. Actually a second camera caught the boy from the rear again. Jim Nichols knew that the females in the audience and the gay contingent too would love those glimpses of the teenage heartthrob's tush. The director assured him that all this would lend verisimilitude to his portrayal, just as it had done with the original Jungle Boy. Just as well that the boy get used to public nudity. It was good preparation for the more explicit scenes coming up later in the shooting script. Those would mostly be in the studio on a closed set but still rough sailing for a nice kid like Sandy. He didn't seem to have the same outrageous exhibitionist streak that helped Jason Eberly deal with these issues, even though, like Jason, he was openly gay.

The shoot went well, though it left Sandy was apprehension at the thought of all the personal cameras clicking away, capturing stills that likely would get circulated on the web. Well, he had been a competitive swimmer in high school. In competition he wore extremely skimpy racing briefs, barely enough to cup his genitals in front or cover the middle of his buttocks in the rear. For daily training, he usually swam in the nude, at the boy's pool in school, at the beach, and even in the lap pool in his back yard. With his father and mother both doctors, his habitual nudity around the back yard and the pool was no problem. Nothing they hadn't seen before. They did worry that he got too much exposure to the ultraviolet rays of the sun but did not even raise an eyebrow at seeing their teenager prancing around in the buff.

It had all started just two months ago ...

Movie producer Marty Fletcher looked up with a grin as his favorite actor Jason Eberly breezed into his office. Still looking good after twenty years in the movie business, Jason had kept most of his youthful good looks. As usual the pretty blond was dressed in his trademark outfit of low slung green sarong and a tight yellow tank top. The actor's tight clothes showed off his still trim and taut physique. Flip flops and a gold neck chain completed the ensemble.

"Look who's here" he said to director Jim Nicholls, Leon Potter, production chief for the studio, and Ed Veronese, Jason's agent. They were meeting to pick the actor who would star in a revival of the Jungle Boy series. In his late thirties himself, Jason was transitioning to the role of executive producer for the series. He had starred in nine of the pictures over the years, but was getting a little too old for the role of Jungle Boy. He still looked good doing love scenes, but he clearly was no longer a kid. Jason had been very successful of late with the film noir genre and in comedy-dramas, especially those with a gay angle, plus an occasional war picture.

"Hi Jason," Nicholls grinned, "I'll bet you never thought this day would come, but it is time to pass the torch. So who is to be our next Jungle Boy?"

"It's Sandy Barnett, hands down. He reminds me so much of myself twenty years ago." Jason replied immediately. "I know, he doesn't have much acting experience, but he is a successful teen model and he looks terrific with his clothes off. And no I haven't taken him to bed, though I sure would like to."

"I dunno, Jason," Potter ruminated. "The role calls for a lot of partial or even complete nudity. Now I give you the fact that the boy is simply gorgeous, delicious even, from a gay angle. He's even blond like you, Jason. I will grant you judgment on that score, but what we need is a real actor not just a model, even one who looks like a walking wet dream."

"So you noticed, eh Leon?"

"I prefer the ladies myself, as you know very well Jason, but after forty years in this business, I understand what the gals and the gay public like too, and this boy's looks are enough to make even a monk forget his vows of chastity."

Amid general laughter, they looked over the Barnett boy's impressive portfolio. Much of his modeling work did not even display garments from the line of clothing the ads were supposed to be selling. They were designed rather for readers flipping through fashion magazines, trying to to catch their attention with a promise of sex appeal. So Sandy had typically been filmed playing nude beach volleyball, or seated on a block of wood in a pensive pose, front leg crossed strategically while wearing just beat up sneakers and a watch cap pushed to the back of his head and nothing in between, or standing nude with a soccer ball held before his groin, that sort of thing.

Some poses deliberately mocked the genre, a nude boy in a night club wearing a loose necktie and nothing else, or holding a pose for a light kiss with a fashion model, she in an evening gown, he in nothing at all, the picture cropped so low on his hips you could tell he really was naked. Then there was that strange pose of a naked boy on the floor in a doorway, his entire weight on his shoulders, arms crossed over his face, legs raised high with his rump braced against one door jamb and his feet against the other. That one really showed off Sandy's delectable curves. Fashion photos like those were always carefully posed or cropped so as not to reveal a male model's genitals. Between the plentiful skin and the sultry look looks on the model's faces, they were suggestive and erotic but not actual pornography.

Sandy's professional portfolio deliberately did not include any of the "naughty" pix taken for the private collections of a couple of the top fashion photographers. Even if he wasn't willing to go to bed with them, they did want to capture the image of the boy's youth and vitality at their very peak. Flattered and cock proud like all good looking teenage males, Sandy had let them snap away while he played with sex toys like anal beads and dildos, pleasuring himself till he erupted splashing his milky cum all over his belly and chest and even his face. Several shots caught the cum in midflight, still airborne before landing on the boy. Those pix were strictly for private consumption. Sandy would be mortified if they ever got to the public.

Sandy never minded the way the fashion houses blatantly exploited his sex appeal. That was the commodity he was selling, glimpses of a very sexy blond boy. If they wanted to photograph him starkers then OK by him. He was lucky that he was exactly what fashion photographers wanted, a slender pretty boy, a twink who looked good in or out of his clothes. It was honest work, after all.

It's not like he sought out occasions to prance around in public in the nude. True he preferred to swim at clothing optional beaches and pools. That didn't make him an exhibitionist. Still he was rightly proud of his tempting body and knew full well how easily it could excite those of both genders. As a Florida lad he considered clothes something of a bother what with global warming and all. Florida's climate was almost tropical these days. The neighbors were used to seeing "the Barnett kid" trotting in the nude along local streets to running trails in the parks.

Except at work, no one would call him a fashion plate. A practical lad with both feet on the ground, he had no real use for the extravagance of the kind of high fashion that he modeled and promoted. Such outfits were worn to be seen, not for comfort or practicality. He sometimes wondered how anyone in his right mind could really wear those ridiculous designer outfits that he strutted his stuff in. Himself, he preferred plain clothes and casual dress: shorts and maybe a tank top or T-shirt and sandals. Sandy was more likely to shop for clothes at Wall Mart than in some smart fashion boutique, news that gave his modelling agent and publicist horrors at that thought that his preferences might become public knowledge. Potter wasn't fully aware of the the young actor's attitudes so he went on to add:

"Remember friends, that it is one thing to take your clothes off in front of a single photographer or even to trot down a runway in some skimpy confection, but our star will have to be comfortable going around stark naked for hours or days at a time in front of an entire film crew. Is Barnett ready for that, I wonder?"

"I think he can handle that just fine, Leon." Jason replied. "He spent three days over at our townhouse. He readily went along with the idea of shucking off upon arrival and staying starkers the whole while he was there with us. It didn't bother him to hop over next door to swim nude in the neighbors' pool either."

"I liked the way he talked about movies during my marathon showing of all the Jungle Boy pictures. We talked over practically each scene in the original series, what each scene contributed to character development and plot, why the characters had to be bareass so much in those pictures, what I felt at the time, how I looked back on things now. He was at least as knowledgeable about the picture business as I was on our first movie together, with very easy going personality and a great sense of humor."

"He is my pick and not just because he is so damn hot. Naturally I and my three lovers were on our best behaviour, so we couldn't be accused of bias, but we would all of us have jumped his bones in a minute, otherwise. This kid will burn up the screen. Take it from a guy who knows."

The others just shook their heads tolerantly. Jason was nearly as famous for his unorthodox love life as for his movies. His famous foursome was still going strong after sixteen years in an close but open relationship. Jason added something Sandy had told him about being a male model, which is not exactly the most macho role a teenage boy could choose.

The teenager had gotten hassled by his contemporaries in high school for his modeling career. Some of the jocks especially gave him a hard time, roughing him up, stealing his clothes when he was in the pool, slapping his butt, circulating cruel jokes. He countered with complete candor about his sexual orientation. When asked if he were gay, Sandy had simply said:

"Oh, absolutely. I am a faggot all right, a real bottom boy, if the truth were known. That means I suck cock and take it up the ass too. You should try it some time. You might like it!"

Actually that approach had won the grudging respect of the jocks. Any kid with that much brass deserved a degree of respect. So they let him be. The members of his swim team had razzed him gently about all the skin in his photos too. He pointed out that they usually trained in the nude themselves and competed in glorified G-strings, so what was the difference.

Jason's endorsement confirmed the decision that the others had privately arrived at themselves. Sandy Barnett would be the new Jungle Boy. They signed him for a two picture deal with options for three more. It was more money than the boy would ever see in his modeling career but still dirt cheap for the star of a big budget movie. Fletcher reminded them of all the money they would save on costumes. Jungle Boy pictures got by on miniscule costume budgets. Given decent box office, the studio stood to make millions. In time so would the young actor, just like Jason had himself. Mindful of his own lucky start, the veteran actor would ensure that his new protege would get a fair shake in Hollywood. He had Sandy sign up with his own acting agent Ed Veronese.

Chapter 2. A Star is Born

After three weeks on location, Jim Nicholls was satisfied that his young actor could carry the picture. He was a natural in front of the camera, taking direction easily, and a real team player. He reminded the old director of a certain young actor from twenty years ago. Nicholls had fond memories of his long association with Jason and he hoped this was the beginning of another fruitful professional and personal relationship.

Sandy's natural agility and athleticism would really help this picture. You really couldn't fool the public much with stunt doubles for a actor whose entire physique was on screen so much. So Sandy did nearly all his own stunts: running, climbing, jumping, fighting, swimming. He got scraped and banged up some but wore the bruises and abrasions as badges of honor. He did get hurt a couple of times enough to stop filming temporarily. One time, while running down a path, he had stepped awkwardly on a stick which rolled up and smacked him right in the nuts. The poor kid fell to the ground, moaning and clutching himself down there, tears in his eyes, trying not to bawl like a child. That had really hurt! Yet the very next day, though still very sore, he had manfully stepped up and reported for work. The boy had grit, that was the director's assessment.

He never complained except about the food, which really did need improvement, and the bugs. Oh the insect repellents worked fine. He wasn't bothered much by flying insects and their bites and stings, even with so much of his flesh exposed whether in his skimpy costume or when nude. The problem was that this location was a real jungle and you never could tell when you might encounter some horrid creepy-crawly like a giant spider or a centipede ambling atop the very tree branch that the director wanted you to run along. The boy was also wary of snakes, as indeed he should have been. The production crew had anti-venin with them and a competent aid man on set, but anyone might get bit. It is easy to be brave tramping around the jungle in stout boots but much harder in sandals or barefoot.

It wasn't in the script, but when his skimpy tunic got badly torn during an early fight scene, the director told the costume department to leave the ripped garment alone. Its rips and tears added authenticity to later scenes. Fine, but the damage left the top hanging by only one shoulder and the side hem torn nearly to the waist. Finally it got snagged on the trees during a pursuit, tearing the garment right off his body.

Nicholls improvised. The script had called for the Jungle Boy to get stripped naked a little later on, but this accident would serve as well. It meant that all the boy's remaining shots in the story line would have him fully naked. This was turning out to be a real Jungle Boy picture after all. The fans always liked lots of skin in a Jungle Boy picture. The gay fans especially wanted the hero totally naked in every scene. They would love the underwater sequence in the jungle pool, though that would be shot later back in Hollywood.

Still Sandy was different from the original actor who had portrayed the Jungle Boy. Jason was an exhibitionist and had stayed in character the whole time they were shooting 'Naked Prey'. In other words he stayed stark naked on camera and off. Like Jason, Sandy didn't bother with a robe or anything while they were between shots, but he was willing enough to pull on a pair of shorts after the filming was done for the day.

In the evening he typically slipped on a pair of those extreme short shorts that had come back into fashion. These so-called hot pants had been popular in the 1970s and were fashionable once again fifty years later. With a very low rise waistband and a two-inch inseam and with a loose fit, the hot pants lived up to their name. Anyone standing behind the boy could look down his rear cleavage, and the inseam was barely enough to contain him in front. You didn't wear any underwear with hot pants either.

It didn't help that when the young actor stretched out his legs on a lounge chair, you could look up his shorts from certain angles. The outfit was perfect for displaying the proportions of the boy's slender but muscular legs. With many slightly built youths, the legs are disproportionately short, accounting for most of the deficit in height. Sandy's trim form was smaller in proportion, retaining the classic ratios which artists have discovered please the eye and excite concupiscence. The languid movements of the former male model as he shifted about on the lounge certainly excited the lusts of the onlookers.

Sandy never bothered with anything above the waist. Their location shoot was deep in the Yucatan where the tropic heat was oppressive. All he wore off camera, when he wore anything at all, was the hot pants and a pair of moccasins. His feet were not tough from running cross country barefoot as Jason's been for the first of the Jungle Boy pictures.

As for his work in front of the camera, everyone in the crew had spent weeks watching him do his scenes often stark naked. They were professionals themselves and treated him as one. Nobody made a big deal of his nudity any more. Obviously some of the gals and quite of few of the guys were interested in him sexually, but he was on the picture to work. He was concentrating on his craft. This picture was his big break, so he wasn't looking for either a lover or a casual liaison.

One scene in particular confirmed the director's faith in his young actor. Young 'Axel' was paddling a dugout canoe through a maze of streams and swamps in a river delta, trying to escape pursuit. The old monk was wounded, lying in the bottom of the canoe. At one point tall reeds blocked the way, so the boy had to hop out and push the canoe through swampy waters that reached to his neck. As they emerged into clear water on the other side, Sandy discovered that his body was covered with purple leeches, sucking on his life's blood.

He clambered ashore, and, in his panic, grabbed a couple of the leeches attached to his ribs, pulling them loose from his body, crushing them in his hands. That forced their mouths to spurt bright red blood onto his hands, his own blood. In disgust he threw them to the ground and stamped on the creatures.

"Stop, Sandy" the aid man called. Remember, you gotta break the seal!"

That shout reminded Sandy about his training in jungle survival. When dealing with leaches you had to make the blood suckers let go more or less voluntarily by using your fingernail to break the seal their mouth had formed with your skin. It was no good pulling them loose like he had those first two. That might leave parts of the leeches' jaws broken off and embedded in his wounds or make the animals regurgitate their stomach contents into the open wound, leading to bad infections.

It took all of the boy's self-control to stop what he had been doing and attend to the leaches one by one.

"Help me!" he wailed. "Gettem offa meeee!"

The actor playing the old monk recognized a cue when he heard one. Still in character, he hobbled over to the young actor and went to work on the leaches attached to the boy's back and ass. Meanwhile director Nicholls told everyone else to stay out of the frame and to keep the cameras rolling. This scene was going to be part of the picture.

That got him a look of despair from poor Sandy, who felt he was being betrayed for the sake of a movie. These creatures were just awful, hanging onto him everywhere. The worst was that the wily critters had sniffed out the best blood supply on the male physique. The poor youth had several extra appendages at the fork of his legs, filled with his blood like so many obscene cocks. He could hardly see what he was doing through his tears, but work manfully to make the leeches drop off properly.

The old monk did the same with the leeches on the boy's back and ass. At one point he hissed at what he was seeing. An especially large leech had attached itself to the perinium between the boy's scrotum and crinkly anal ring, hanging there like a distended third testicle. Nicholls put his hand on the old actor's shoulder to stay his hand till he had a camera brought up for a tight close-up. Following the director's orders, the man dislodged the leech then picked it up and squeezed it hard to show just how much blood it had taken from the beleaguered youth. They pulled the last of the leeches off the boy's trembling body. Sandy sank to the ground and curled up in a ball sobbing.

"Cut, cut, cut. You bastards! Give him room." a youthful voice shouted. "Someone set up a shower for him." the voice ordered. "That's what he needs. To cleanse the taint off him."

Sandy looked up into the anxious face of the script boy, Terry Knowles, a cute red-head his own age who had been unaccountably distant from the young actor during the production even though Sandy had sensed a mutual attraction. Terry was maybe half an inch taller than Sandy and had an identical build. At that moment of crisis, the normally quiet script boy had stepped forward as Sandy's champion, blue eyes flashing, taking command in a voice that would brook no contradiction: stopping the filming, telling this man to set up a shower, that one to get soap and brush and towel, and another to fetch Sandy's clothing. Terry's hands explored Sandy's body, making sure none of the critters was still attached.

In his anger and concern for the young actor, Terry had denounced the director for putting Sandy through hell just for the sake of the picture. Even an old pro like Nicholls had to feel guilty about using his young star so opportunistically. That look of betrayal Sandy had flashed him had cut him to the quick. Now this red-head youngster had called him to account. Never a petty man, Nicholls nodded to the Knowles boy.

"You're right, Terry. I went too far. I am sorry, Sandy, sorry about being too much the director and not enough your friend, as I hope I always will be. Terry, you were right to step in. I admire the way you took charge like that. Good work, both of you."

The two young men were surprised and gratified by the director's admissions and his forthright apologies. Abruptly Terry realized he had his arms around the young star's nude body. He started to let go and back away, suddenly unsure of himself, but Sandy grabbed him and said.

"Oh, no you don't. You're not getting away that easily, now that we have broken the ice. First off, you have to help me to the shower. Give me a hand up will you?"

The script boy helped Sandy to his feet. Terry showed anxiety on his face but Sandy had a mischievous look. The young actor abruptly tugged the script boy to his chest and planted a big kiss on his lips. Surprised delight raced over the script boy's cute features.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. The Sandy took command:

"Now you get out of your clothes too, Terry, so we can shower together."

The crew watched in delight as the two scrumptious youngsters, now both naked, stepped over to the newly rigged shower, a collapsable canvass bag with a shower head, the whole thing hung from a tree branch. The boys soaped each other down enthusiastically. Soon their hands were all over each other, at first just cleansing but later roaming everywhere and touching erotically. The youngsters quickly forgot that others were watching, totally engrossed in each other and the sudden strong attraction between them.

"All right," Nicholls voice called out. Let's give these two lovebirds some privacy. That's a wrap for the day."

The water ran out before their fun did, so they filled the bag up again and resumed their intimate touching. This wasn't the place for real sex, so the boy's just stoked each other off then pressed their bodies together, murmuring endearments. Afterwards the youths rinsed clean and sat together, talking quietly while getting to know one another. Terry admitted that he had been smitten by Sandy from the the very beginning. He had followed his modeling career and had angled to get on the crew as script boy. Sandy chided him mildly for being standoffish. He should not have thought that, just because Sandy was the star, that he would be stuck up and not interested in a relationship with a mere script boy. Actually Terry had a lot to offer. He himself was a great catch: incredibly cute, a tight body, a good talker, and he had a good head on his shoulders, as he had shown that afternoon.

As evening fell, Sandy led Terry into his tent. Even with the tent closed up, the sounds of their lusty sexual congress carried halfway across the encampment, bringing a smile to Nicholl's face. He had seen the way those two boys had looked at each other, the tenderness and the eagerness both. Ah, young love. Just like in a movie. How appropriate.

And that was how Sandy and Terry met and fell in love.

The next day, after breakfast, Nicholls smiled when Terry reported for work, dressed like Sandy did on his off time in a pair of hot pants and moccasins, no shirt. Sandy himself was nude for the cammera, ready to continue with the next scene in the picture, as the canoe forced its way through the reeds into the open waters of a lake.

"Were you two going over Sandy's lines for today, last night there in his tent?" Nicholls asked innocently.

Poor Terry, not quite eighteen himself, and still something of an innocent, blushed with the total pink coloration that only a freckled Irish kid can attain. Sandy's eyes danced with amusement even as he looked over at his boyfriend sympathetically, and in mild reproach at the director who had teased his vulnerable lover. On the other hand, Terry did look ever so cute biting his lower lip in embarrassment.

All that day, the crew couldn't help smiling at the two young men, so obviously taken with each other. All really wished the kids well. They made a fine looking couple. That kiss they had shared just as the director called for everyone to get ready, was tender and loving. Even the straight people could smile at the way Terry's hands had cupped Sandy's bare rump in their clinch. One or two crew even took pictures for the tabloids.

The fact is the boys were popular with the whole crew. They knew Terry as a shy kid but nice, a bit of an intellectual maybe, very well read it seemed, but not snobbish about it. Sandy was the best sort of leading man, a regular guy who cared not one whit about Hollywood status. Star or not, he knew he was just a good looking kid of moderate talent who had gotten a real break by starting at the top in the movie business in a revival of a money making franchise.

Sandy felt on top of the world. He had a movie career opening up for him. As if that were not enough of a break, he had met a great boyfriend in Terry. Sexually they were both bottom boys but compatible as they happily switched off with each other or sixty-nined. They especially liked to fuck each other sitting up, face to face, maybe kissing or playing with each other's nipples, legs interlocked as first one boy then the other slid down the other's cock then used his internal ass muscles to squeeze his partner to climax. Dawn would find them in Sandy's cot, spooned together, sometimes with a boy's morning wood buried in the velvet warmth of his partner's quim.

The boys also hit it off as friends, forming an instant attachment they resolved to continue as a real couple after the picture. Life doesn't get any better than that.

Chapter 3. Ups and Downs

There is a lot of down time for an actor on a movie set as the crew gets things ready. Actors even have stand-ins who take their place while cameras, lighting, and sound are set up. So the boys had time on their hands. Both boys were natural athletes and used their free time in active pursuits, now virtually always in the nude. They liked to swim but did so only when the waters were clear and they had a boat with them and a lookout armed with a rifle in case of caimans or other predators. The boys had been competitive athletes and could do laps for a couple of hours at a time. They often played in the water with a large inflated beach ball or clambered onto the bank and threw a frisbee around. Their tanned bodies darted here and there, bending and twisting, jumping and lunging, occasionally tumbling to the ground, all to accompaniment of laughter and happy voices. They were the very picture of health and youthful male exuberance.

Sandy, and then Terry with his encouragement, practiced rope and tree climbing, both with regular ropes and those tricked up by the prop department to look like vines. The script called for some vine swinging like Tarzan, and Sandy wanted to look good at it. No CGI substitute for him. Sandy was strong enough he could hoist himself upwards with just his arms. Terry could do it better, like a gymnast with the legs straight out so that his nude body formed an L. Their climbing attracted quite a few cameras. Few forms of exercise were better suited to display the strength and agility of the human frame.

Actually they looked just great, both of them. The muscle bundles of shoulders and arms stood out under the smooth tawny skin of the two lads. Back muscles bunched and moved erotically. Buns tightened and dimpled fetchingly. The boys always practiced climbing in the nude, never no mind who was watching. Their slight builds and natural agility made them natural for scrambling in the tree tops, swinging on ropes, collecting fruits or the occasional exotic orchid. They looked like two nature children, perched on high branches surveying their jungle domain, their evenly tanned, hairless bodies toned, taut, slender, and boyish.

They liked to perch on big branches, backs against the trunk, often with with one boy nestled or spooned to the other, rump to lap, hands idly touching and petting and stroking shoulder or abs or ribs, fingers playing with nipples, twirling and pulling, and pinching. It felt good to have the other's hands touching them, to feel the other boy's breath on the back of the neck, to smell the fresh smell of a clean healthy boy in their arms. Or fingers might explore more boldly, a thumb rolling a boy's balls, a forefinger swirling around the rim of the glans, or thumb and several fingers sliding up and down the shaft of a boy's virile member.

Sometimes the aerial petting went further, when Sandy or Terry simply took control of the other boy, getting his fingers slick for stroking the submissive partner's cock steadily, tweaking nipples, kissing the nape of his neck, languidly bringing him to a climax high in the trees. Sometimes the submissive boy would hike his hips up and let his lover slip into him, relishing the feeling of impalement and fulfillment as they lounged in their aerie.

They had an unfounded sense of privacy up in the jungle canopy since anyone with binoculars or using the telephoto lenses of the cameras had no trouble spying on their intimate moments. Most folks looked the other way, but there was money to be made from images of their couplings. Some of the more tasteful ones would feature in the standard 'Making Of" video.

The paparazzi among the crew also snapped pix of the boys picnicking on the ground, lying side by side, smiling languidly in post-coital lassitude, with wet splashes in the hollows of their bellies, their cocks still visibly turgid with blood. The kids were pretty good sports about those shots. After all, what did folks think two gay teenagers got up to together? At least everyone one could see that as males they were as virile as the next guy. Their erections and copious ejaculate proved that. Terry was hugely embarrassed, the first time he saw a splash shot posted to the web, the one where Sandy had loosed a huge load onto his face that dripped from his forehead and nose to his eyes, cheeks, and chin. Not something you really care for your folks to see, no matter how liberal.

Well such videos and photos were a tradition with the Jungle Boy pictures. Besides including out-takes and bloopers, the editor would thrown in candid shots of the actors both on and off set, often when they were doing something awkward or silly or naughty. This edition would feature the athleticism of the young actor and his new lover. There would also be the usual nude interview with the star of the Jungle Boy pictures.

Sometimes the boys left the encampment and ran along the country roads. Though little more than tracks the footing made for easier going than running through the jungle, and it was much easier to see and avoid snakes, a read danger for unshod runners. Natives in trucks or carts sometimes passed by waving or whistling or hooting at the pair of nude and barefoot runners. On one unlucky day, the youths encountered two unsympathetic members of the local constabulary who stopped them, asking in Spanish what two gringoes were doing running naked through the district. Probably up to no good. Neither of the boys spoke enough Spanish to make themselves understood. Impatient, the cops handcuffed the boys, threw them belly down on the hood of their jeep, kicked the lads' legs apart, grabbed their tackle, and gave them a few good squeezes each to subdue them. Both yelped and protested but got the message the third time their nuts got crushed. The cop who had Terry even stuck his thumb into the boy's whole, making some dirty joke to his colleague at the hapless lad's expense.

Well the boys were well and truly caught. This was not their country; they did not speak the language, and they quickly figured out that nudity taboos were still alive in this culturally backwater region. Maybe at the beach resorts young gringos could run around stark naked but not in the interior, far from the coast. The cops didn't see many young gringos in this neighborhood, especially a couple of naked teenagers. With their captives rendered helpless and obedient, the cops started spanking the kids, first with the flat of their hands, to humiliate them, then with their leather belts, which really hurt, leaving flat red welts. Soon both kids were howling, tears running down their faces though both were trying manfully not to bawl like a child.

The cop working Terry over suddenly exclaimed in surprise. His captive boy had thrown a boner. The cop stood the boy up to show his colleague. Sure enough, the Terry's cock was engorged, sticking straight out from his groin, the hood pulled back, the prow of the head leaking pre-ejaculate. The younger cop leered as he bent the boy's erection to point straight down then released it to slap up against his belly. He did that twice. Terry could only squeeze his eyes shut, totally mortified at his traitor cock.

"Maricon!" explained the first cop with a leer.

"Claro" agreed the other, glancing over at the captives dismissively. He slapped his night stick at the boy's genitals and then he poked it into the hole, working it deep, eliciting a sharp cry of dismay from the impaled lad. His cock though stayed rigid.

"I...I'm sorry Sandy. I ... I can't help it" Terry wailed to his lover. "Being in bondage like this, the cops with their uniforms and weapons, the beating and all, a nightstick up my ass, it turns me on unbearably. It makes me feel like a slave boy of antiquity. It's just my perverse and kinky libido. I am so ashamed and sorry, Sandy."

Satisfied for the moment with the initial punishment they had meted out to the two American kids, the cops threw the two miscreants into the back of the jeep. They drove down the rutted road to a sleepy town nearby and tossed the boys into the crowded holding cell still naked and handcuffed. The boys were in for a gang bang of the roughest sort.

The other detainees themselves were delighted with a heaven sent opportunity to get back a bit at the damn gringos and how they lorded it over everyone around the world. Well here were two gringo lads who would learn different. The two youths were totally at their mercy, very young, small, naked, cuffed, outnumbered, locked in a cage with sixteen lusty men who hadn't had sex in a very long while. They were cute and sexy little things too, far too pretty for boys, queers as the cops had said. The men threw mattresses onto the floor and dragged the boys down with them, spreading their legs to get at their holes. The boys were helpless, unable to resist the surge of lusty humanity that engulfed them.

At first the jailbirds limited themselves to mere roughhouse as they cracked jokes as Sandy and Terry's expense. They pointed with scorn to their smooth hairless groins and equally smooth armpits, chests and limbs. Some mocked them for their slight stature. Some of the prisoners kissed Sandy and Terry on the lips and slapped their faces when they didn't respond enthusiastically enough. One man circled Terry's smooth scrotum with his fingers, forcing the balls to the bottom of the sac and snapping his fingers at reddened organs. He poked two or three fingers up his chute, making him lubricate them first with his spit and later with his pre-ejaculate fluid when it started dripping. Poor Terry was turned on by his utter helplessness and the pheromones and the smell of so much unwashed masculinity. As one man lined up to shove his cock up Terry' ass, Sandy shouted threats at him which just got him cuffed by the men holding him down.

"Don't resist them, Sandy. We cannot fight them. We've got nowhere to go. We're both helpless and naked here in this cage with all these brutes. We are gonna get raped again and again. Nothing we can do about that except take it and survive the experience. We will get through this, Sandy, I love you know matter wh.."

That last was cut off by a big cock shoved into Terry's small mouth. He looked so surprised, impaled on a fleshy shaft, his lips a full red circle around a truncheon of a cock. Sandy lost sight of his lover as his own group of assailants took him in hand for their pleasure, forcing him into all manner of positions for sex, fucking him in both his orifices, teasing and taunting him the whole while. Once, while on his knees, he caught a glimpse of Terry seated in one man's lap back to front, legs held up and wide apart like a wishbone. Even though the boy already had one big cock up his quim, a second man was crouched in front, between his slender spread apart legs, positioning himself to shove a second cock into the boy's tight hole. Poor Terry passed out from the terror and the pain of his first ever double penetration. It wasn't his only one of the night. A variation was when one man lay down and had the boy straddle him on his knees, sinking his ass slowly onto the man's shaft. Then the jailbird pulled the boy to his chest while a second rapist, rammed into the already occupied hole from behind. By the time their assailants were through, Terry's sweet light tenor had been reduced to a hoarse whisper by all his screams and howls.

Sandy got it pretty rough too. Though he was not a total stranger to double penetrations, he was subjected to all manner of brutality and degradation. Some men made them drink their piss as well as swallow their gism. Others like to torment his tits, pulling, twisting, or digging in with their fingernails, actually drawing blood. They fisted his cock, got it erect, then slapped it hard, making it whip back and forth. One man got a charge out of crushing a boy's nuts in his hand, sending shooting pains through Sandy's belly. Terry got their attention too. One man held his fist up to Terry's face and pointed to his hole, smiling at the thought of fisting the boy. Terry fainted dead away from the fright. In the end, the man spared his anal ring that ultimate assault. And so it went almost the whole night till their assailants finally dropped off to sleep. The boys were left to curl up on the hard floor, blood and cum oozing out of their torn orifices, lips swollen and cut from slaps and punches, their slender bodies battered and bruised, and sore all over.

In the morning they heard voices in both English and Spanish. The movie producer was there to report two missing crew members who had last been seen running nude down a country road. Realization dawned on the local police that their new prisoners were the missing boys of whom these movie people spoke. With patently insincere apologies, they dragged the boys out of their cage and presented them, safe and sound, if a great deal the worse for wear.

Even for a movie company, there was no point registering a complaint. The movie company's influence was limited since they were not a permanent presence in the Mexican state of Quintana Roo. Instead the producer conferred a generous gratuity on the police as a reward for finding the "lost boys". That got them released without any charges. The two boys were not looking for revenge either. They just wanted out of there.

Still naked, the boys climbed into a truck for the ride back. The aid man was along and he tended their hurts, examining their battered holes carefully. Fortunately there were no actual tears or fistulas in the sphincters, so they boy's would not need surgery. Finally they stretched out together on their bellies, arms companionably around each other's waist, occasionally turning their heads to touch foreheads or to murmur words of support, each grateful for the other boy's presence. Rough as their night had been, the shared travail had strengthened the growing bond between the two youths. Together, they had been to hell and back.

The next three days the production crew worked on scenes that did not require their leading man. Terry got the time off too. They spent it together resting, talking, and healing plus getting in some easy swimming as physical rehabilitation. Neither bothered with clothing, walking about the encampment totally nude, often hand in hand, smiling shyly at each other. The crew mostly smiled at the cute couple, remembering their own salad days when they themselves had first been smitten. It helped that both boys were so extraordinarily good looking.

Before normal production resumed, Sandy told his director that he was going to take a page out of Jason Eberly's playbook and stay in character the whole time they had left on location. In practical terms that meant he wouldn't be wearing clothes again till they packed up to leave in five weeks' time. Terry chimed in saying he would do likewise. First because he was still a little sore back there, too much anyway to bear the touch of cloth. More important, it would lend his lover moral support too, so that Sandy wouldn't be the only one on the set in the going around full-time in the rude nude.

Somewhat defensively he added that why shouldn't he run around stark naked in the tropical jungle. Clothes would only soak up the sweat that poured out of them, take up the mud and dust all around them, or get soggy from the frequent rains. Might as well go naked and take a quick shower anytime they needed one. Indeed the boy liked to soap down and rinse off in afternoon rain showers.

"What's so great about clothing anyway!" the boy challenged his elder with the heartfelt wisdom of all of his eighteen years.

Nicholls smiled at the naivete and simple loyalty of his script boy. How could he fault a young man for taking the side of the youth he loved. A hopeless romantic himself and increasingly sentimental as he approached fifty, the director's attitude toward the two youngsters was becoming increasingly avuncular. These were nice kids with whom he hoped he could work for years into the future.

"Ah, moral support, Terry. Yes I can understand that. So OK, go ahead with your plans. Of course, it helps that you and Sandy are the kind of pretty boys who like strutting their stuff anyway. And it does square with the Jungle Boy franchise. I can see that you two were made for each other. So if this is what you want Terry, as your boss I won't insist that you put your pants back on. You are both very easy on the eyes. With a face like yours Terry, that trim body, awesome abs and and fine firm derriere, you could be in the movies too. Here let me get a good look at you."

He signaled the boy to twirl around to show off his back and bum. The boy complied, though a little puzzled because he knew the director was as straight as they come, though very friendly to gays. Actually Nicholls wanted to appraise the script boy for a possible role in the next movie, running around naked with his lover.

Nicholls had known that his script boy was cute and gay, but he had always looked on him as an assistant on the set. Now, for the first time, Terry impressed hims as a desirable young male, with looks good enough to go before the camera. The director was impressed by Terry's trim athletic body. It was the the epitome of the modern ideal of the slender ephebe, just the type of young male that Hollywood was hot for these days. Oh macho heroes still got good roles, but cute lads like Sandy and Terry were all the rage.

Like his new boyfriend, Terry had a well defined musculature, tight and taut without a bit of excess flesh. His shoulders were not so broad as Sandy's since Terry was more a runner more than a swimmer. His chest sported squared off pectorals accented by tiny red aureoles, a washboard six pack flanking his median line, and prominent ribs. His skin was flawless and deeply bronzed from exposure to the sun. His genitals, though well formed, did not thrust themselves out from the groin aggressively but hung flat against the fork of his legs; the sheath of his cock completely covered the head with the folded tip extending perhaps a finger's breadth farther.

It would be a great selling point for the movie if a real-life pair of lovers were the stars. The kid certainly looked scrumptious, his red-headed blue eyed good looks a fine match for with the yellow haired beauty of his lover. Both were incredibly pretty lads, with fine almost elfin features. Both had smooth hairless slender bodies, with no sign of tan lines. Very shapely rumps too. Boys have different asses from gals of course, less outwardly curvy, with flatter, squared off buttocks with a sharper cleavage that dimpled when they walked. The gay audience would go gaga with those two heating up the screen.

For their next Jungle Boy picture maybe he should put Sandy and Terry in a movie adventure together, something with dinosaurs maybe, hmmn. A remake of 'One Million BC' or, even better, 'When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth'. Nicholls knew that last film was a perpetual gay favorite because of unusual casting and costume for the 1960s. The leading man was a British actor whose slender physique and pretty boy features were a welcome change of pace from the macho muscle-builder types usually cast in such roles. His loincloth amounted to little more than a G-string, leaving him totally bare on the sides with only two triangles fore and aft. If he had showed up like that on any beach in the US in those days, he would have been arrested for public indecency. Good thing the location footage was done in the Canary Islands.

Still a possible dinosaur picture was one notion that the veteran director would keep to himself for the time being. A thought struck the director. If the next Jungle Boy movie were say a dinosaur picture, the script wouldn't even have to explain or justify the boys' perpetual nudity. Clothing just hadn't been invented yet! Now there was a thought that would surely please his producer Martin Fletcher, always a stickler for verisimilitude. He would have to talk Fletch around to putting cavemen in a picture with dinosaurs. Although the combo was a Hollywood staple, everyone knew that the dinosaurs died out more than 60 million years before the first hominids emerged in Africa.

The producer walked around the encampment with his now naked script boy in tow. The kid looked ever so cute clad only in his production baseball cap with a clipboard held at the ready: an amusing combination of professionalism and exhibitionism. Some of the crew gave the nude boy a thumbs up or slapped his rump affectionately as he went by.

Others shook their heads, amused but tolerant when Nicholls explained that Terry was just showing solidarity with his boyfriend. This was a Hollywood crew, so nobody was bothered much by public nudity or that a couple of pretty gay kids had fallen in love. They were eighteen and goodlooking; their juices were flowing. What else was new?

Chapter 4. Success

The producer and director decided to write in a small role for Terry at the end of the movie to introduce him to the movie-going public as part of the buildup to the follow-on picture. The gossip machine in Hollywood was already all abuzz about the relationship on location between the star of the latest Jungle Boy picture and the pretty script boy. So Terry was included as one of the small band of infiltrators who would assault the fortress of the evil sorcerer and retrieve the final orb of power.

Unfortunately the inexperienced actors took a wrong cue from the assistant director, running to their left instead of his left, that is their right. That direction sent them running through a stand of elephant grass, a plant much like saw grass but taller than a man whose stems and long leaves were embedded with silicates that turned them into blades capable of cutting the skin. The narrow hedgerow of elephant grass flayed their hides during their brief passage through it. What happened afterwards made the situation much worse. The clearing beyond was dotted with colonies of fire ants. Now unlike termites which build high mounds that are easy to recognize, fire ants build nests that are hard to spot, often under timber, logs, rocks, or in built up areas, under pavers and bricks. Even in an open grassy field like the one the actors found themselves in, their nests are domes no higher than 16 inches (40 cm), impossible to sidestep in the grass. So the boys blundered into the fire ant colony, tripped and rolled on the ground, with the most lamentable results.

The four young actors, all totally nude, stopped their 'attack' and started howling and stamping, slapping at their own bodies, jumping up and down as the fire ants swarmed over their legs and torsos and started biting and stinging. Yes, fire ants do both. A fire ant's vicious bite is not itself poisonous, but it does anchor the creature long enough so it can inject its venom with the stinger at the end of its abdomen.

Poor Terry and Sandy. The youngsters hardly knew which way to turn. They couldn't go back through the elephant grass, that was for sure. Their distress was very great and it was hard for them to understand the conflicting directions everyone was shouting at them. It did not help that the way they were carrying on looked absolutely hilarious to everyone else, jumping up and down, slapping at themselves, howling. It was like something out of Keystone Kops and just a frantic. Many of the crew were holding their sides they were laughing so hard. The manic boys ran in all directions till corralled by the crew and led over the aid man. Meanwhile Nicholls and the second unit director came running up with a mobilcam to capture what happened.

Terry and Sandy's injuries were the worse. The other actors were at least four years older and had got their wits about them quicker, running out of the danger zone. The aid man and his helper cleaned and disinfected the cuts on their bodies from the elephant grass then started removing any remaining fire ants. Most had dropped off already but the boy's frantic efforts has killed more than a few, separating the head from the bodies of the ants, which had to be pulled loose from their skin. Some of the stings were in the most sensitive areas possible, including the scrotum and the anus. The medical treatment indicated for fire ant attack was a topical steroid cream which reduced the intense itching a sting left behind. The boys were placed belly down on a table side by side as the aid men worked on their neither regions. Sandy heard the whir of a camera behind them.

"Your filming this, Jim? "he asked incredulous.

"Of course, all this footage with the fire ants is a shoo in for the 'Making Of' video.

"Whaaat!!" the boys cried together. "You've got to be kidding."

"Not at all. And if you think about it rationally, like the two professionals I know you to be, you will understand that too and accept it."

The two boys looked at each other temporarily rendered speechless. Suddenly Terry spoke up.

"You mean that the video is going to show close ups of my butt getting first aid, including fingers spreading steroid cream on my anal ring? What will my folks think when they see their kid not only running around starkers, but getting close and personal first aid for his burning asshole?"

Nicholls shrugged and said ever so casually.

"Oh, I imagine about the same thing Sandy's folks will say when the view the footage of that giant leach being detached from his perineum. Both sequences will have tight close ups of your respective nether regions. Really, the footage is all very clinical. Though I suppose your gay audience won't see it that way. They will likely get hard seeing you two boys stark naked, bent over at the waist, rumps in the air, legs spread wide, cock and balls dangling temptingly between, with obviously male hands probing at your nether orifices. For them it will be like a promise of heavenly delights. Is that going to be a problem boys? "

The two youths looked at each other in dismay. "Nooo!" they wailed in unison. "We can never go home again -- never show our faces there."

But of course they did -- to a warm welcome from both families. The embarrassing sequences actually generated as much sympathy as amusement. Anyone could see that these kids were real troopers. Despite their discomfort and embarrassment, they had gone back to work after four days, long enough for the red pustules to fade so they would not show on screen. As Nicholls himself told Fletcher:

"Those two kids are something else. So maybe they are flighty and naughty and you can't keep either of 'em in a pair of pants for long, but they have grit."

The viewing public took them to their hearts. Skeptics who wondered if anyone could ever replace the original Jungle Boy were happy to see that the franchise was in good hands. And the next installment promised a co-starring role for the real life lover of the principal star.

Terry and Sandy were inseparable back in Hollywood, where the rest of the film was shot on sound stages, or in front of a green screen, or on the back lot. They filmed Sandy's confrontation with CGI monsters, interiors, underwater shots in the jungle pool, that sort of thing. Sandy's swimming scenes were a sensation. He was a terrific swimmer. On one long take, the camera followed him continuously for three minutes underwater without a cut before he took a breath from the air hose. No stunt man needed.

During post-production, Sandy took Terry home with him to Florida to show him off to his folks. They quickly warmed up to the bright and chatty script boy turned actor, accepting him as a member of the family, even according him the privilege of prancing around nude out back by the swimming pool. Well they were doctors after all. Both sets of parents attended the premiere in Hollywood too. Terry thought he would just die when they viewed the Making of Video together, especially the closeups of their anuses, but his mother surprised him, letting him off easy, reminding him that she had attended to that orifice many times when he was in diapers, so it was no big deal really.

To help promote the picture, the boys were interviewed on television by talk-meister Hal Browder on his long running late night show. Browder usually launched right into the confrontational style that had made him rich and famous. This time he smiled benignly at the slender young men next to him and directly addressed the studio and TV audiences.

"As you know, twenty years ago, this show helped launch the career of the first Jungle Boy, Jason Eberly. Tonight I wish to welcome the new Jungle Boy, eighteen year old actor Sandy Barnett. That pretty little red head sitting next to him is his boyfriend, Terry Knowles. As practically everyone knows, they met on the set of the first of a new series of Jungle Boy pictures, where Terry was the script boy. He even got a small part at the end of the movie. Let's have a round of applause for these two upcoming young actors."

"You boys certainly look scrumptious in those billowing white shirts open to the waist to display your smooth tight chests and those form fitting dark trousers. Is that an indication that your next picture is a pirate movie?"

"Hardly, Mr. Browder.

"Hal, please."

"Hal then. Our next picture is about cave men against dinosaurs, and we won't be wearing anything at all for that, not even skimpy loincloths, with the excuse that clothing hasn't been invented yet. As for these clothes, well we just like dressing comfortably."

"In your case doesn't comfortably often mean not getting dressed at all. I understand you run around your backyard stark naked. Also you have been seen frequenting a notorious nudie beach."

"Now that's hardly a scandal these days, certainly much less than when you first braced Jason with it on your show twenty years ago. As you know neither of us is body shy. I am a swimmer, so I introduced Terry to that nudie beach. He is a runner, so we sometimes run the trails of the state park next door. The whole park is clothing optional. We like to keep in shape to look good in front of the camera and for each other too. You don't know how much fun it is running behind Terry, watching his buns clenching and flexing as he lopes along. Once or twice, it got me so hot, I had to drag him off the trail into the bushes for a quick shag. I don't mind admitting that. We are two teenagers in love, and torrid sex is a big part of our relationship."

"Sure we run around in the nude rather a lot. We rather like being naked; we like people seeing us naked; and I dare say we please most of those who do see us. It's not like we have anything to hide, not after all those nude shots in the movie and those revealing scenes in the 'Making Of' video not to mention some revealing stuff on the web."

[Applause]

"Indeed, we actually had to look long and hard for something that hadn't been publicly shown before. Folks, appearing now on the monitors are stills of Terry and Sandy at a recent Halloween party. Don't you just love their harlequin costumes. If you look close you can see both costumes are made of body paint and nothing else."

The young actors grinned at the pictures of them in their outrageous Halloween "costumes". Terry's harlequin pattern left only one foot and the opposite hand unpainted. His limbs were alternately solid white or red with the torso a patchwork of red and white diamonds down to his adam's girdle while his genitals were a solid white. Sandy looked fully dressed "wearing" a painted on green and yellow tunic with a black belt, white tights, black boots, and green gloves. His balls were the white of the tights, but his cock the yellow of the trim of the tunic.

"We won first prize for couples" Terry added enthusiastically.

At Browder's nod, the studio monitors suddenly flashed photos of the two harlequins taken from behind. Unknown to them till it was too late, their artist friend who had done the body paint job could not resist the temptation to add to the original concept. In Sandy's case, that meant a green spiral whorl about a hand span across centered on and leading inexorably to his nether hole. Terry's red and white color scheme was the inspriation for the standard concentric red and white target painted across his butt, his anal ring the dead center.

[Hoots and whistles and cheers from the audience]

"Well said, Sandy. Now I know this is early days, but what is your take on the phenomenal popularity of the Jungle Boy series over the years. Sure, the special effects, the action, and high adventure appeal to men and boys, but why is it so popular with women too, given the often explicit gay themes. And what do you bring to the franchise?"

"Well, I think its appeal for women is based on the same psychology as that of the Japanese art form, bishonen manga, that is comic books about gay twinks in love. The comics are drawn by women and sold to women who like reading about and looking at drawings of pretty lads in a physical and romantic relationship. In a normal novel where boy meets boy, women readers are supposed to identify with the female lead. Now, that is easier in a text novel, which is just words on paper or an electronic reader. All the pictures are formed by the imagination in the minds of the readers, so the women can easily imagine themselves in the story and enjoy it vicariously. With images it is harder to identify with the female lead and much easier to see her as a rival."

"In the movies especially, the female lead is a real person, often a famous actress. Not only is she an unbeatable rival, her body gets in the way, blocking the view of the sexy male bodies the women fans really lust after. With two pretty boys on the screen, you get rid of the potential for rivalry and provide viewers two sexy male bodies to ogle and fantasize about. No matter what the camera angle or who is on top, there is a pretty male in view at all times."

"These days, most of a century after women's liberation really got started, modern women are men's equals, ready to look on men candidly as sex objects themselves. We pretty gay twinks make that safe for them. Little guys like us are no threat to women. We don't threaten to physically overpower them, not like a big macho bruiser might. Also, as short as we are, we stand eye to eye. Women don't have to look up at us just to carry on a conversation. Whether they realize it or not, men talk always down to women, just from their difference in size, what biologists call sexual dimorphism. Twinks like Terry and me are slightly built so we are no bigger than our female fans. As gays in real life, we don't look at women like straight guys do. Gay guys can have women friends because there is no sexual tension between them."

"Even the macho guys don't mind us much. Both as twinks and as gays, we are just not in the same league with them. I mean no one would take either of us for a lumberjack. So for them, our movies are really comedies about bare assed pansy punks saving the world. And our appeal to the gay audience is obvious. I hope that doesn't sound like film school psychobabble."

"No, no. Not at all. I'd say your insights are valuable. You really have a head on your shoulders, Sandy Barnett. Now what about the second part of my question?"

"Oh, right. You asked what I bring to the franchise."

"He's gorgeous!" piped up Terry. "That's what he brings to the franchise! He is the most beautiful boy I ever laid eyes on, a walking wet dream."

[Laughter]

"Ha, ha, ha. Thanks Terry for the endorsement. Yes, of course there's my pretty boy good looks, my athletic physique, and, it has to be said, my willingness to prance around in front of the camera with absolutely nothing on. Oh lots of actor will do occasional nude scenes, but going stark naked for a whole movie is something else. Outside of actual porn only a few would do that."

"Or would look as good as you doing it." Terry added.

"Terry is part of it too, you know Hal. He is a natural actor and plays off me really well. That is why were are going to star together in the next picture."

"That must be something of a first for Hollywood, two openly gay guys, real life boyfriends, doing the leads of a major motion picture."

"Actually we won't just be boyfriends by the time shooting starts. We will be newlyweds, so to speak, joining our fortunes and lives in a civil union. We are announcing that on your show. Only our parents know already."

[Long and thunderous applause]

"Well congratulations Terry and Sandy. I wish you all the best. We are running out of time so let me just add my heartfelt thanks for making the announcement on my show. It is great publicity for all of us. Folks, let's hear it for the happy couple."

[Applause with a standing ovation]

That is the story of how Sandy and Terry got started on their way to the Hollywood A-list.