Time for a Boy

 

A fantasy by Ivor Sukwell

 

Not surprisingly, considering its location, this is a story about boys and boys, and about boys and men as well. If you have read this far then you know perfectly well if you are allowed or supposed to read any further. Or indeed, have any wish to read further. I have no control over what your eyes do, and can only warn what they may expect to find.

It is not yet possible to bring boys to the present or the future from the past, even for the very reasonable purpose of their providing entertainment for men, but what is possible, here and now, is for donations to be sent to `Nifty' in order that stories about boys may continue to be exhibited by them for your entertainment.

 

Objects could be brought from the past, admired, inspected and even used and then be returned from whence they came, the return being only a few milliseconds after they'd been taken. Milliseconds in the time they came from, but hours, days even in the time they were taken to.

Why, Aloisius Drool wondered, if this could be done with a work of art, could it not be done with the ultimate work of art, a boy?

The world was in one of those strange epochs where boys were considered to be untouchable for sexual purposes until they reached the advanced age of sixteen, which in many cases, was beyond a boy's `best by' date, and, in common with many men, Drool had desires for boys in their prime.

A very expensive lawyer assured Drool that a boy taken from the past and brought to the present and returned again after use, did not legally constitute a boy as it would have no legal existence in the present and be only a temporary resident there, and Drool would be breaking no laws if he buggered it ruthlessly while it was here.

He experimented first by taking a nineteenth century boy, a ragged item that was selling its arse on the back streets of London, making that choice on the reasonable grounds that if the boy got lost somewhere between the centuries, nobody would miss it, but all seemed to go well – the boy arrived, was fucked and sent back, and Drool began to consider the commercial opportunities this opened up.

Never the man to miss an opportunity, Drool had made a fortune by speculating on a range of commodities, he wasted no time in obtaining a monopoly licence for the Time Importation of Boys and a patent for a Time Boys facility with the catchy name of `Time for a Boy'.

The only problem he encountered was an initial Court Judgement that the boys he imported must be returned to precisely the space/time co-ordinates they were taken from, and could be imported for no more than seven days, but his lawyers successfully, and expensively, argued that this was an impossibility as a delay of some micro-seconds could not be avoided, and the Judgement was changed to permit up to ten milliseconds delay, but no extension of the time they were allowed for.

The facility Drool created was nothing innovational, the concept had been around since the late twentieth century; simply a dome covering fifty or so acres, climate controlled so it was always a pleasant summer twenty-eight degrees Celcius inside, with a large pleasure lake, exotic vegetation, a games area for boys to amuse themselves, restaurant and bar and twenty chalets for the guests to amuse themselves with boys.

The central feature was a large paved square with a construction that Drool imagined and intended to represent an ancient Roman slave market, where, on arrival, the guests would gather and the time imported boys be sold at auction.

Drool gave a lot of thought as to when and where he should import his boys from. The ancient world had an initial appeal as it was commonplace there for boys to be sold as slaves and any boy taken from there would know instinctively that he had been taken and sold for buggery purposes, but language would be a problem so he discarded that idea.

Eventually Drool settled on the fifth and sixth decades of twentieth century England, when by chance he discovered in his researches that the schools of that period demanded that boys have showers after physical activity and he'd be able to scoop up twenty or thirty naked boys in one go.

Apparently, further research told him, this was also a time before homophobia, particularly teenage homophobia had developed, and though the boys he imported would almost certainly be ignorant and innocent (as far as any boy can be ignorant and innocent) their minds would not be corrupted by any belief that a boy must, under all circumstances, keep his cock to himself.

Some, perhaps many if not all, may have no desire to be buggered, but that would only add to the fun for his guests as they used whatever form of persuasion they chose to convince the boys they bought for the week that their arses were an entry as well as an exit point.

Drool's `Time for a Boy' pleasure facility was fully booked for a year in advance before it even opened.

 

As always, Drool himself greeted the assembled guests in the square, twenty men of various ages all anxious to get their hands on a boy.

"Gentlemen," Drool smarmed, "Welcome to `Time for a Boy'. I won't detain you long, as I'm sure you are all thinking that it is indeed, time for a boy, but I must just run through a few things before we begin the auction.

I know that all this is included in the brochure we sent you when you mde your bookings, but I do know that some gentlemen only look at the pictures."

Several titters greeted that remark as the brochure in question was packed full of pictures of almost naked boys, none clad in more than the barest of essentials in order to satisfy the censors.

"This little setup is, as near as we know, a copy of a Roman slave market, and the boys we will be auctioning, though not Roman slaves, have no more rights than those slaves did; that is to say, no rights at all."

That drew several appreciative murmurs from the guests, murmurs that turned to a small ripple of applause when Drool completed his next comment.

"The boys must not be physically damaged and they must be alive and healthy when they are sent back to when they came from, but with those small provisos, gentlemen, you may do anything you wish with the boy you purchase. He will be your slave for the week. You will have bought him, he is your property."

The appreciative murmurs grew as the assembled clients contemplated the pleasures that lay ahead for them; it may be only for a week, but what a week they would have!

"The boys we will be offering for sale are not, as I said, boys from the ancient world, but boys taken from the middle of the twentieth century, a period chosen with great care. Sex with a boy of any age was illegal then. But it appears that people did not believe that men would wish to have sex with boys, or if they did, then it was of no concern to anyone, and there was, of course, still no mass electronic communication system, so all the vast majority of boys knew about sex was what they heard from their school friends. Unless, of course, they had a favourite uncle or a nice man next door."

This produced several guffaws of laughter, as Drool meant it to.

"So, gentlemen, I suspect that most of the boys on offer will be virgins, though, of course, many if not all will be acquainted with their own hands, and some perhaps with the hands of a school friend or two. There may perhaps be one or two who do have a favourite uncle or a nice man next door, but we have no knowledge of that. They have all been taken directly from what was known as schools, where they were naked in showers after some athletic pursuit, and all that has been done is depilatory radiation, so each and every one of them is smooth from nose to toe.
Gentlemen" Drool said dramatically, "The boys."

On cue, forty naked boys were herded onto the auction stage, carefully arranged by height, smallest first. Each had an anklet around their left ankle, and that the only thing on them.

"The things round their ankles," Drool explained, "Is activated by a remote control, and you will be given one when you successfully bid for a boy. It sends a little pain burst through them and can be useful for control in the initial stages. Many of you will, no doubt, prefer to use more traditional methods to control your boys and encourage them to perform satisfactorily, and punishment equipment will be found in your chalets.
Now," Drool said to the now salivating guests, "You can see we have attempted to provide for most tastes; for those who like their boys young, but not too young, we have a selection of eleven and twelves, and for those who like a decent working cock on their boys, we have everything from thirteen to fifteen.
We will commence the auction with the smallest and work along the line. If a boy is not sold, we just pass on to the next."

"What happens to the ones that don't get bought?" a guest enquired.

"They remain in the dome as decoration," Drool smiled, "Twenty extra naked boys for you to look at."

"Just look at?" the guest asked, sounding a little disappointed.

"Just look," Drool confirmed, "Not bought, not touched. Come, gentlemen," he smiled, "Where else would you find twenty boys wandering around beautifully naked for you to admire while you play with the one you have bought?"

"You mean we can, er," the guest searched for an appropriate word, "We don't have to, um,"

"Sir," Drool interrupted,  "Your chosen boy will be your slave, and a slave is nothing more than a piece of property; you may use it anywhere you wish. In your bed, here in the square, by the lake, in or out of the water. You may bend it over a table in the restaurant if that is your fancy," he added to make his point.

His guests had all been boy-hungry before, but now they were boy-ravenous! Being able to enjoy a boy in secret was almost impossible in their boy-sex-prohibited society, and the thought of being able to indulge in their desires openly and freely got them all thinking of wicked and exciting possibilities.

"And remember," Drool added to their urgent desires, "Your boy is your property; if you wish to share it, exchange it for the property of another guest for a night, then, of course, you may do just that. Now, shall we commence the auction?"

Four guests bid fiercely for the prettiest and youngest boys – there were always a few men who wanted something young and pre-teen to play with and were prepared to pay for what they wanted, and the youngest boys always fetched the highest prices, though Drool had never understood why anyone would want a boy without some sort of cock worth sucking.

Eventually there was just one guest left who hadn't bought a boy, and not only had he not bought one, he hadn't even bid for one. From the very start he'd known which boy he wanted- the biggest and the oldest, a boy with a well-developed body and a very well-developed cock.

Even the guests who liked some maturity in their boys wanted one who looked less mature than that fifteen-year-old, but Antony Harris had the hots for the mature looking boy, though if he'd have fancied him quite as much if he hadn't been smoothed out may have been debatable.

He paid the reserve price without a quibble and watched as harness with a cord attached was fastened round the boy's ample cock and balls and clipped to an extendable lead, the end of which was passed to Antony Harris along with his remote control.

"Nice cock," he remarked casually over his shoulder as he led the boy, now his slave for the week, literally by the balls to his chalet. "Nice arse as well. I'm going to enjoy fucking that."

"No chance," the boy muttered sullenly. He knew what fucking was and had no intention of having cock up his arse.

Antony Harris stopped, turned and looked the sullen boy in the face.

"I promise you'll be begging me to stick my cock in you within the next half hour," he smiled, turned again, gave a tug on his boy-lead and continued to his chalet.

Once there he tugged the boy by his balls over to a specifically designed piece of furniture, a sort of table, padded at the front and with two handles at the back, a piece of furniture designed to position a boy across both for punishment and for fucking.

"Grab the handles," Harris said pleasantly, walking behind the table and gently tugging the boy into place with a few pulls on the lead.

Harris had studied the instruction manuals carefully, and he unclipped the cord of the harness around the boy's cock and balls from the lead, clipping it into place instead on a neat little device at the back of the table. A little handle enabled him to adjust the tension on the cord, which, if pulled really tight, would squeeze the balls quite unpleasantly for the boy.

Harris left just enough slack for the boy to be able to writhe a bit, but if he were to jerk his hips away from the table he'd be rewarded by the most exquisite surge of agony from semi-crushed balls.

Antony Harris hadn't selected this boy simply because he was the most mature and had the largest cock, he made his choice based on the belief that, in his own world, this boy was the alpha male, and turning him into a whimpering submissive appealed to his erectile thoughts.

Already, he correctly assumed, the boy would be disconcerted by the loss of whatever body hair he used to possess; he would have regarded that hair as a sign of his virility, a visual demonstration of his superiority over his less hairy fellows, and to be paraded genitally bald amongst boys he knew was bound to be just a bit humiliating for him.

Antony Harris intended to seriously increase that humiliation.

The chalet's punishment rack boasted a wide range of instruments with which to beat a boy, and Harris had read the manual on those as well, and selected a cane of medium thickness, one designed to inflict serious pain and leave delightful marks, but not break the skin when used with enthusiasm.

Antony Harris was intending to use it with enthusiasm. Antony Harris intended to listen to his wannabe alpha male boy scream.

"I said I'd give you half-an-hour to beg me to fuck you," he said conversationally, "The time starts now."

The boy gasped and tensed when the first stroke landed on his arse, but sheer bravado led him to convince himself that he could take it however much it hurt.

It did hurt, and on stroke number four his gasp was more of a yelp and number seven produced a definite yell.

Number eight made him jerk backwards as the pain bit home, but he soon jerked forwards again as the cord round his balls tightened and pain in the balls is worse than pain in the arse.

Eleven and twelve had him screaming nice and loud and sobbing, "No more. Please. No more."

Not sufficient for Antony Harris who landed number thirteen.

"You can fuck me!" the boy yelled through his tears, but all he got was Harris saying, "Ask me nicely," and slash number fourteen to his agony filled arse.

"Please fuck me," the boy begged, and screamed again as number fifteen landed just as hard as the fourteen before it.

"Please, sir, fuck me, please sir," the boy begged.

"Only took you ten minutes," Harris sounded disappointed, "You sure you mean it?"

"YES, SIR!" the boy screamed on number sixteen.

"If you're sure," Harris said mildly, "I can always carry on if you want to change your mind."

"No, sir," the agony-filled boy sobbed, "No more, please, sir. I won't change my mind, sir. I want you to fuck me."

"Now wouldn't it have been easier for you if you'd just said what you wanted to start with?" Harris asked, "But then I suppose you wouldn't have all those pretty stripes on your bum to show off to your friends."

"No, sir," the boy whimpered, not knowing what else to whimper.

"Tell me," Harris said as he replaced the cane in the punishment rack, "Have you ever sucked a cock?"

"No, sir," the boy shook his head, "Never, sir."

"Well , let's start with you sucking mine," Harris smiled and removed his clothes before going round the table and releasing the cock cord from the table.

The boy sagged to his knees, the pain in his arse giving him no desire to stand.

"Oh, very good," Harris complimented him, "Now just shuffle round a bit so you're facing me, open your mouth and get it round my cock. Do be careful with your teeth, won't you, and, of course, I will spunk in your mouth and you will eat every single sperm. I think you know what will happen if you don't."

The boy did know and he certainly didn't want the cane again!

The chalet was not soundproofed, the boy's screams were loud and the other slaves for a week who heard those screams made the sensible decision to fully co-operate, no matter what they were asked to do.

 

Ben Long blinked and shook his head thinking water must have got in his eyes as everything went blurred and fuzzy for a moment, it happened sometimes in the showers if you weren't paying attention.

"Hey, look!" a boy voice called, "Long's shaved off his pubes!"

Ben knew he had done no such thing, but still looked down to check, and froze! His pubes were missing! Ridiculously he thought, `They were there a moment ago,' but his thought was interrupted by another boy voice calling out, "So has Millward! And he's been caned as well!"

All eyes turned to Billy Millward, the biggest boy in the form, a boy who not only had the largest pubic bush but hair on his legs as well, except that now he didn't and he had most certainly been caned. Well and truly caned! The marks on his bum, though not recent, were clearly visible; dark stripes, some with a hint of purple to them.

"Bloody hell, Billy," one lad said, admiration in his voice, "What you do to deserve that?"

"And what's happened to your pubes?" another asked before it slowly dawned on the showering boys that they were all as bald as primary school kids.

"Must be something in the water," one suggested, but as they all still had hair on their heads, that suggestion was dismissed, though they all turned off the showers as quickly as they could, just in case.

Naturally each and every boy took a good look at every other boy, some obviously looking more intently than others and one even daring to comment that, without pubes, Billy Millward's cock looked huge.

The loss of his hairs naturally concerned Billy, but so did the mysterious cane stripes on his bum, even more so because the general opinion was that they were at least a week old and he'd, like the rest, had a school shower on Tuesday, two days ago, and nobody had mentioned he had a cane-striped arse then.

Of course, everyone had got pubes then as well, and Billy started to wonder if the two things were somehow connected.

"Not a word about this to anyone," Billy asserted his authority, "Gawd knows what'd happen if word got out that we'd all gone bald," and not one single boy disagreed. It would have been okay if Ben Long had shaved off his pubes, been the only bald one amongst them, they could have had a good laugh at him and probably several of them a good wank with him as well, but all of them pubeless? It didn't bear thinking about.

 

"Don't tell anyone, Ben," Will Davies, a mousy-haired lad who always sat at the same desk with Ben, whispered during Geography, "But I thought yours looked nice with no hairs."

"Dirty sod," Ben grinned, not bothered that his friend was talking dirty, and explored the subject of their baldness a bit further. "You think it feels different somehow?"

"Dunno," Will whispered, "Tell you in a sec." He moved his right hand the few inches necessary and slid it into Ben's left trouser pocket, a pocket with a large hole in it so Will's hand had access to Ben's underwear, which he slipped his hand inside with practised ease.

"Not what I meant," Ben sighed, shifting his seating position slightly so Will could get at what he was after properly.

"Wasn't it?" Will asked, "Oh well, never mind."

What Ben had meant was that it felt different to him being smooth; his balls didn't itch now and again as they usually did and he was sure he was somehow more aware that he was wearing trousers – he thought he could actually feel the material of them on his thighs, and he couldn't remember if he had always done or if it was a new thing.

"Feels nice," Will whispered as he played with Ben's bits.

"Does it?" Ben slipped his left hand into Will right trouser pocket, which also had a convenient hole in it, inside his friend's pants and found an already hard fifteen year old cock waiting for him. "Does," he agreed after a good feel around, "Wonder why it does?"

"Dunno. But feels loads nicer to me," Will whispered, meaning Ben's hand on his newly smoothed possessions.

"My place after school?" Ben suggested, "Mum won't be back from Gran's till six and Dad's on afternoon shift."

 

While Ben and Will couldn't wait for school to finish so they could get to Ben's, get naked and down to proper wanking, Billy Millward, very unusually for him, did not want the school day to end as that would mean he would have to go home where his twelve-year-old younger brother would be waiting for him.

That younger brother, Harry, had failed the `eleven-plus' and went to the local Sec Mod school, not to Grammar School like Billy, and he was always home first. Normally that was not a problem, because by the time Billy got home Harry was already stripped and ready to perform his daily after-school task, which was to help his older brother out of his school uniform, kneel between his legs and toss him till he spunked.

Billy had introduced this daily ritual over four years ago, before he could actually spunk, and Harry now was more than just adept at wanking older brother cock.

Billy was usually almost desperate to get home, having endured nearly eight non-spunking hours, but not today. What was Harry going to think and say when he discovered a completely hairless Billy inside his school uniform?

"Not today," Billy muttered as naked younger brother approached to do his duty. "Ain't in the mood today."

Harry took that as a personal affront; "Fine," he snapped, "You don't want me to do it for you anymore, then you can do it yourself from now on!"

"It ain't that," Billy said miserably, Harry was far too good at wanking him for him to have any wish to abandon that, "Just not today. Praps not for a few days," he added, hoping against hope that his hairs would re-appear.

"Up yours," Harry shrugged, "Only does it to keep you happy, anyway."

"And you do," Billy attempted to placate his brother, "I really like you wanking me. You do it really well, but, um, it's a bit awkward at the moment."

"Why?" Harry sneered, "Yer cock dropped off or something?"

"Not me cock," Billy muttered ashamed of what he had to admit,  "Me hairs."

"You what?" an astounded Harry yelped, "You gone and shaved off that bloody forest?"

"Not shaved," Billy attempted to explain, "They just disappeared in the showers at school. Everyone's did," he said, but knew as he said it how ridiculous it sounded.

"Yer, like I believe that," Harry sniggered. "Go on then, show us."

"You'll just laugh," a mortified Billy muttered.

"Nah," Harry denied, "Well, praps a giggle. But ain't not never tossing you again unless you shows."

Both brothers knew that was a fairly meaningless threat, but it did give Billy a workable excuse for displaying, or allowing his younger brother to display for him, his new, smooth genitals and legs.

"Oh, wow, Bill!" Harry breathed in awe as smooth older brother was revealed, "That is so amazing! You do that just for me? How'd you know I hated all yer hairs?"

"You did? I didn't," a stunned Billy managed, "Told you, it just happened."

"Shit, Bill, yer cock looks magic," Harry enthused, "And yer legs an' all. You gotta let me toss, you, Bill."

"You like it bald?" Billy tried to get his head round that; surely he'd been better with lots of hairs?

"Like it? Love it!" Harry gushed, "Looks loads more sexy without hairs."

"You think?"

"You bet!" Harry shoved his older brother into an armchair and went down between his legs to wank him as usual, but instead of trying to avoid contact with hairy legs, he pulled smooth ones onto him.

"Bill," he said tentatively as he admired very nearly six inches of fairly thick, hairless, older brother cock and had a very naughty and wicked thought, "Yer ever thought about getting me to suck it for you?"

"Suck it?" Billy gasped. He'd heard of cock being sucked, of course, but believed it was just a dirty boy mind myth, not something that actually happened.

"Will if you wants," Harry offered.                 

 

Andy Hill couldn't wait to get home and show his daddy what had happened to him. Andy was only just thirteen and while he liked some bits about being thirteen – like the fact he was a proper teenager now – there was the downside that he was getting older and he didn't really want to be any older.

Getting older meant that hairs were starting to grow around his cock and he just hated those horrid hairs. They spoiled the perfect `little boy' look he knew his daddy, his two uncles and his three older cousins liked so much, and he'd talked with his daddy about what to do about them when they had first started to appear.

"Can't you shave them off for me, Daddy?" he almost pleaded, "I want to be nice for you and Uncle Jim and Uncle Joe and Bert, Fred and John (his three cousins) to play with, and I won't be nice if I get all horrid and hairy."

Of course his daddy appreciated that a smooth Andy was far more fun to play with than a pube infested one would be, but he was a practical man and pointed out that Andy, being a Grammar School boy, would have to have showers at school and missing pubes were bound to be noted by their absence.

They'd managed to come to a reasonably agreeable compromise; Andy's balls and crack would be kept smooth, as would his thighs when the time came, but his pubes would have to stay to avoid awkward questions being asked.

Now all his, admittedly few, pubes had suddenly disappeared, along with every other pube owned by the boys in his class, and Andy was utterly elated.

"It's not just me, daddy," Andy delightedly chirruped, "It's happened to all the other boys as well."

His daddy was a little sceptical, but Andy was so insistent that he was telling the truth, even offering his bum for caning to prove it, that he was eventually believed, and his delight could certainly not be questioned.

"Do you think I look like I'm ten again?" he asked, twirling his smooth nakedness around in the living room, "You really, really liked me when I was ten."

"Your cock's bigger than it was then," his daddy pointed out, "But the rest of you is perfect."

"You don't bum my cock," Andy sniggered, "John and Fred do suck it sometimes though, so I don't spose they mind it being a bit bigger."

"Yes," his daddy agreed, "You are thirteen now and I suppose that is time for a boy to have his cock sucked, especially as you can just about spunk now."

"I can," Andy chirped, "Fred lets me spunk in his mouth when he sucks me."

"Good for Fred," Andy's daddy approved. "Pity you don't have a younger brother or cousin who you could learn how to fuck with."

"Oh," Andy shrugged off that disadvantage, "I don't mind. I like being the one who gets fucked anyway."

His daddy raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, please, Daddy. Then you can do it again at bedtime."

 

Ben and Will were naked in Ben's bed; that wasn't particularly unusual, they wanked that way whenever they had the chance, but this time they'd gone further than ever before.

Normally they'd have been on their sides facing each other, Ben's cock in Will's hand and vice versa, but this time, for some reason, they were cuddled close, naked boy body against naked boy body and hard boy cocks, instead of being in boy hands, were pressed against each other, pushed into flat boy stomachs.

Somehow one of Will's legs had got between Ben's legs and Ben's legs had clamped tight around it so it couldn't escape, though Will's leg showed no indication of wanting freedom.

They lay like that for several minutes, attempting to understand this new development in their wanking.

"Feels nice," Will eventually whispered, though, as the house was empty apart from two naked boys, there was no real need to whisper.

"Does," Ben agreed, "You think it's anything to do with us being bald now?"

"Dunno," Will said, "It's certainly sexier than we've been before."

"Yeah," Ben agreed again, "But it's not just sexier, is it? It's sorta dirty sexier."

Will thought about that for a moment and decided he couldn't think of a better way of describing it. Wanking each other was quite sexy, naughty sexy because they knew parents and teachers wouldn't like them wanking each other, but being pressed together as they now were, was even naughtier than wanking.

"Ben," Will said slowly and carefully, knowing just how naughty and dirty he was being, "You ever thought about, well, about, you know, kissing, like? Tell me to piss off if you want, if that's too dirty for you," he added hastily.

"Haven't," Ben answered truthfully, but made no move to disentangle himself from Will. "You think it'd be any good? Want to try it?"

"If you like," Will said, "Just to see what it's like. It's a bit homo, I spose though." (`Homo' was a word just beginning to enter boy vocabulary, though, as yet, not used in a pejorative way)

"So's wanking, I spose," Ben shrugged that off, "Give it a try if you like."

They did, and once they'd got the idea of opening their mouths and having tongue duels, they liked. Liked a lot!

Liked enough to give Ben the courage to voice his own dirty, naughty thought, a thought that had been growing in his mind since he first felt Will's new smoothness in Geography that afternoon.

"Ever wondered what it'd be like to get sucked?" he dared to ask Will.

"Might be nice," Will conceded, "But what about doing the sucking bit? You know, having a cock in your mouth?"

"Don't spose it'd be that much different from a tongue," Ben sniggered.

"Cept that tongues don't spunk," Will giggled.

"True," Ben agreed, "But I spose that's part of sucking them."

"But spose it spunks when you're sucking it?" Will asked, "You'd get a mouthful of it."

"Yeh," Ben thought about that, his dirty though hadn't included a spunking cock, just a cock. "Don't spose it'd matter," he thought out loud, "Like it can't be poison or nothing cos it makes babies."

"Might taste awful, though," Will pointed out.

"Might," Ben accepted, "Can always spit it out if it does, I spose."

"And if it don't?" Will grinned.

"Swallow it," Ben sniggered, "Be really dirty eating spunk."

"Might be okay with sucking," Will chased the thought around in his head, "But don't think I want spunk in me mouth."

"Fair enough," Ben conceded, "Don't have to, do you. Just suck it for a bit, see if you like it."

"Give it a go," Will decided, "What about you?"

"Oh, I'll definitely give it a go," Ben stated, the idea of sucking Will's cock getting more and more desirable, though why it should as he'd never thought of doing it before, he had no idea. "But," he said, now being very daring and very, very dirty, "I'll suck yours till I don't want to suck it anymore, and if you spunk up while I'm still sucking, then, well, I spose I'll get a mouthful, won't I."

"You sure?"

"Yeh, just don't say when you feel it coming so I don't have a chance to chicken out."

"That's so dirty, Ben," Will enthused.

"Yer, filthy dirty," Ben grinned.

 

If Aloisus Drool had put a little more philosophical thought into his enterprise he would have taken the boys for his second week from a different school, but the logistics were time consuming and expensive, involving, as they did, the input of trained technicians, and Drool much preferred to make money rather than spend it.

On the surface his reasoning seemed sound enough; the boys would have only been gone from their home space/time for a few microseconds, have no knowledge of what had happened to them in those microseconds that were, in the space/time co-ordinates of 'Time for a Boy', a full, sex-crammed week of slavery, and physically they would be exactly the same boys as they were before they were taken.

It was not possible for a boy to lose his body hair and his virginity in microseconds, so why not keep using the same boys? The guests would be different, would not recognise the boys and profits would be greater.

It never occurred to Drool that if he used the same boys again, it would seem to the boys that they had never been sent back, that they were simply being sold again to different purchasers.

Drool had legal permission to keep a boy for no more than seven days, but he reasoned that he was not breaking the law by taking a boy, keeping him and the sending him back only to take him again a few, to him, hours later for another week. For the boy, of course, there was no time gap as he'd be taken from his own space/time at exactly the same moment on each occasion, or so Drool believed.

Add to all that the fact that the school divided up its boys according to age and there were far more boys in each age group than Drool needed, he reasoned that he'd probably use different boys each time, for the first few weeks at least.

It was far too much of a trouble to pick the ones he wanted at the point of taking, so Drool simply took the lot each time from their showers, and had the selection made at reception at `Time for a Boy'. Fat, unsuitable ones were eliminated and the first ten decent ones in each age group were chosen, all the rest sent straight back, though, of course, as it was an automated part of the process, all had been through depil treatment first.

Inevitably, as the most suitable boys were chosen, it was inevitable that some would be picked week after week, but as Drool believed the boys would be unaware that they had been sold and used before, that didn't matter.

What Drool had not calculated was that time ticks the same in one space/time continuum as it does in another, and though the boys were returned only milliseconds after they'd been taken, it was a whole real week before they were taken again.

Antony Harris, whose skilful use of a cane had produced such delightful and effective screams from the boy he'd bought, had been offered a full-time position by Drool, who'd been mightily impressed by the effect those screams had on other boys, who all performed most willingly having heard what happened to a boy who didn't, wasn't too impressed with the lot that were put up for sale on the second week's auction.

Several, he noticed, were the same boys as before, but there was no decent alpha wannabe amongst them this time, and he was obliged to take the oldest one left after all the guest had made their choices.

The boy wasn't totally co-operative, showing signs of objection when his ball harness was fitted, but most of the boys did that anyway, the ones who didn't being the ones used the week before.

The boy would obviously need some sort of persuasion; Harris guessed that he was almost if not actually sixteen, and virgin boys of that age have a tendency to wish to remain anal virgins, but, from the look of him, Harris thought that just a couple of slashes with the cane would have him a screaming, blubbering submissive, and that would be no fun at all.

The boy's thoughts were along the same line as those of Harris; he'd seen as every boy in his year had seen, the cane marks on Billy Millward's arse, and made the correct assumption as to how they came to be there, and he had no wish to have those same marks on him.

"Please, sir," he whimpered as he was fastened to the punishment/fucking table, "You can fuck me, sir. Please sir, fuck me. You don't need to cane me, sir. I want you to fuck me."

Harris, of course, had said the same to this boy as he had to the previous one, but this one wasn't going to resist.

"Of course I'm going to fuck you," Harris said kindly, stroking the boy's white bum, "But before I fuck you I want you to suck me. Have you sucked a cock before?"

"No, sir, sorry sir," the boy whimpered.

"Never mind," Harris smiled, "It's not difficult to do. Just make sure you keep your teeth covered. If I feel teeth touch my cock then it will be the cane for you."

"Yes, sir. No, sir. No teeth sir."

"Now, when a boy who hasn't sucked cock before sucks me for the first time, I find he does it much better when he's crying, a sobbing boy is wonderful when he sucks. But, as you're so eager to be fucked, I won't use the cane on you, just the paddle."

"Yes, sir," the boy, who was already near to tears managed to say.

The paddle Harris selected was of the table-tennis bat variety, it was one that would smack into an almost complete boy arse cheek every time, and though the pain it caused was not of the same, deep, searing, agony type as that inflicted by the cane, it would build up over time, until the boy was a sobbing wreck, and, with any luck, a screaming sobbing wreck.

In some ways the boy was a disappointment, he was actually crying by the time Harris landed the tenth swipe of the paddle. True, Harris wasn't being gentle, he battered the boy's arse cheeks as hard as he could, but, well, tears after only ten?

Things did look up a dozen or so later though, when the boy made a sort of moaning gasp and spunked up on the table.

"Oh, you lovely, dirty boy," Harris cooed, "Spunking just from having your arse spanked."

That didn't end the spanking though, Harris continued belting away hoping for some decent noises, and finally got what he wanted when a dozen swipes, delivered hard and fast, no pause between them, brought a half-decent yell from the boy, and his knees gave way, causing him to sag, thus jerking the ball harness tight, squashing his balls and making him really scream.

"Good boy," Harris complimented him as he released the howling boy, "On your knees all ready to suck cock and eat spunk."

Drool was really pleased; Harris' chalet had been rigged with microphones and every stroke of the paddle, every gasp and sob and every single word spoken had been heard in all the other chalets, in the square and bar and down by the lake where some clients took their boys to be nice to them before they buggered them. Even the slurping sounds as the boy sucked on Harris' cock could be clearly heard.

All the paying clients were going to get their full monies' worth from their purchases after that!

 

It happened again. The next Thursday after Games showers, the same fractional flicker in his eyes, but Ben knew this time that it wasn't caused by water. Last time they'd all lost their pubes and Billy Millward had a cane striped arse; what had happened this time?

"Bloody hell, Len," a boy's awestruck voice announced, "Someone's given your arse a hell of a belting."

"Have they? What you mean?" Len Jenkins tried to peer over his shoulder at his bum, a bum that every boy but he could see was seriously bruised.

"Don't it hurt to sit down?"

"Ain't noticed," puzzled Len said, but as his arse had been white and normal before he got in the showers there would have been nothing for him to notice.

What he did notice, though, was that Billy Millward was giving him a look and that made him look at Billy Millward, and think how nice Billy's big cock looked.

Len wasn't one of the class sex maniacs; yes, he'd had a few casual wanks with other boys, but who hadn't? He wasn't like Ben and Will who everyone knew couldn't leave each other's cocks alone, and why should they if they enjoyed doing it; he didn't have a mate he regularly wanked with, didn't think he was all that interested in cocks, but Billy's cock suddenly looked very tempting.

He didn't really know Billy well, certainly wasn't a mate, so there was no point in thinking about Billy's cock because he wasn't going to get at it.

"Hang on a mo, Len," Billy said to him as he was about to get out of the showers, and Billy was the class boss, so Len waited.

"Know anything about how your bum got belted?" Billy asked when they were the only two left in the showers.

Len didn't.

"Me neither," Billy said quietly, "You didn't get the cane though, got hit with something else."

"Did I?" Len asked.

"Yer. No stripes like what I had, your bum's just bruised all over."

"Oh," Len said.

"Sorta makes us mates like, don't it," Billy surprised Len by saying, and surprised him even more by giving his soft cock a quick squeeze and adding as he did so, "If you wants to be."

Len was astounded, in a daze all through Geography, which was the last  lesson of the day. Billy Millward had felt his cock! Billy Millward had said they could be mates! Billy did have a really nice big fat cock, well when it was soft anyway and Len had obviously never seen it hard, but he was imagining what it might grow to and if he became mates with Billy he might even find out if what he imagined was true.

Billy Millward had different thoughts, similar in a way but different in another way.

"Harry," he said quietly as his naked younger brother undressed him, "How would you feel if I brought someone home after school?"

"To do instead of me? Not that you do me anyway, it's always just me doing you."

Billy ignored the second part of that, though he knew he's have to start doing something to his younger brother fairly soon if he wanted to keep Harry's interest in incest going. "Nah, not that," Billy said and wondered how to put what he wanted. "Lads at your school talk dirty?" he asked.

"Just cos we don't go to Grammar don't mean we're dumbo's," Harry bridled, "Course we talk bleedin' dirty."

"Ever talk about stuff like bumming?" Billy tried to make that sound casual, and failed.

"Aaah, I get you," Harry smirked, "You fancies having a go at bumming whoever this kid is."

"No, not exactly," Billy prevaricated, "If I says, you promise it stays a secret? Just between us, like?"

"Bleedin' hell, Bill, you got me tossing you off when I were seven and I ain't never said nothing to anyone about that, have I?"

"Course you ain't," Billy ruffled his brother's hair affectionately, "Well," he took a deep breath, "I ain't after bumming him. I wants him to bum me."

"Oh, wow, Bill! That's amazing! You really wanna be bummed?"

"Don't know why," Billy confessed, "But ever since them marks appeared on me bum I been getting this sort of feeling I wants something up in there, an' then, today, this kid's in the showers and his bum's been belted an' all. Had a quick feel of his cock and said do he want to be mates? Think he's up for it, but not said nothing about him bumming me. Daren't till I know if he's into cock, like."

"What you want me to do?" Harry asked.

"What you're doing now. Just be naked like always when I gets home with him, see what he does when he sees you."

"Easy enough," Harry shrugged, "Do I get to have a go at him an' all?"

"Could see if he fancies you giving him a suck, I spose. Not a proper one cos he'll need his spunk for me bum if he's up for doing me."

"Deal," Harry agreed, "But you ain't never been bummed yet. You think it might be best if you tried it out first, case you don't like it, sorta thing?"

"How'm I gonna do that?" Billy missed the obvious.

Harry simply smirked at his brother.

 

Ben's mum was at his gran's and his dad was at work, so naturally Will was in his bed. They'd started, as they always did now when they got the chance to go to bed together, with a long, long, bodies pressed together, tongue twirling, tonsil searching snog.

"Reckon if we kept it up long enough, I could spunk just from snogging," a puffy-lipped Will sighed.

"Be a waste of good spunk," Ben poked his tongue out and sniggered.

"Yeh, I know," Will gave a dirty grin, "Don't worry, I know where it has to go."

"Didn't wank this morning, did you?"

"Course I didn't," Will sighed in mock exasperation, "Some sex mad kid I know told me I must never wank in the morning if I'm getting sucked by him after school."

"Good," Ben grinned, "Be a nice thick one then."

"Will be," Will confirmed, "Didn't have one last night either."

"You never?" Ben grinned and licked his lips, "You saved it up for me?"

"Know how much you like it," Will shrugged, though shrugging wasn't easy as the boys were still clamped together.

"Love you," Ben beamed.

"Love my spunk you mean."

"Not just your spunk. Love the cock it comes from as well."

"Dirty sod," Will snuggled in even closer if that was actually possible.

"Am a dirty sod," Ben was all of a sudden serious, "Not too dirty for you, am I?"

"How could you be too dirty?"

"Well, liking eating your spunk for a start."

"I like you eating my spunk, you silly bugger."

"I been having some really bad dirty dreams lately."

"Bad ones?"

"Well not bad, I spose, but, well, much more dirty than just eating spunk."

"What else you been eating?" Will sniggered.

"Not me, but done to me."

"Like what?"

"Like some bloke getting his tongue in my bum hole."

"Some bloke?" Will gasped, "Who?"

"Dunno. Just know it is a bloke. Like you know some things in dreams but don't know them," Ben tried to explain.

"So what's it like, this dream?" Will wanted details, dirty details.

"Sorta hard to explain cos it's a dream," Ben tried, "Know I'm naked an' there's this bloke there. Can't see him, just a shape, sorta thing, but I knows it's a bloke, an' he tells me to get on me back an' get me knees by me head cos he wants to get at me bumhole, an' I does, an' he says he's gonna eat me out, and goes for me bum with his mouth. Licks all around then starts to poke his tongue right on me hole."

"Wow!" Will said, "What happens then?"

"I wakes up with a bleeding great hard on," Ben almost blushed. "Had it three times now."

"Ain't never heard of `eating out,' nor of having your bumhole licked," Will mused.

"That's the thing," Ben agreed, "I ain't either, but in me dream I knew exactly what he wanted to do, an' I couldn't get me legs up fast enough so he could do it."

"You want to do it?" Will wondered.

"That's where it gets really dirty, Will, I mean really bad dirty."

"Thought you said you woke up?"

"From that one, Will, but there's another one."

"What?"

"Can't tell you, Will, you'll think I'm too dirty to be friends with."

"Don't be daft, only dreams, ain't they?"

"Yeh, but really dirty dreams, especially the other one."

"You wanna tell me or you wouldn't have mentioned it," Will said calmly, "So, spit it out, all of it."

Ben did want to tell, wanted to tell the only person he could trust. If he couldn't trust the boy who fed him spunk, who could he trust?

"Ain't just me an' the bloke," Ben said into Will's shoulder, "Another bloke there as well, and a kid. Younger kid. First or second year at the most, I think. Bloke tells me I gotta eat out the young kid, an' I does, Will, I bleedin' does!"

"Bugger me! That is really dirty, Ben. I mean really really dirty."

"Not as dirty as thinking you might actually wanna do it," Ben whispered into Will's armpit.

Will was shocked, shocked but relieved. He'd been having dirty dreams as well, but didn't have the balls to say about them till Ben had recounted his.

"Don't spose, cos it's a dream, you saw the kid, did you?" Will asked.

"Did, Will. Kid at our school. Don't know his name cos he's first or second year. Got longish fair hair."

Okay," Will left it there and began his own confession. "You ain't the only one been having dirty dreams," he said.

"You had some as well?" Ben felt a surge of relief. He wasn't he only boy who had dirty dreams.

"Yeah. Not quite like yours, though. I gets bummed."

"By a bloke?"

"Nah, by a boy."

"Not as bad as being bummed by a bloke."

"Maybe not," Will agreed, "Thing is, I know who the boy is. An' I know I wants him to bum me."

"Like me thinking I'd be okay with eating out this young kid?"

"Not really. I been sticking carrots up me arse so he'll be able to get his cock in me, an' I bleeding loves how it feels. Even better than having me spunk eaten, an' that's just a bloody carrot!"

 

"Home, Daddy," Andy chirruped as he shut the front door and began stripping out of his school uniform, leaving it all on a pile on the hall floor and bounding naked into the lounge and jumping into his Daddy's lap.

"Good day at school?" his daddy asked the only just thirteen-year-old, who put his face up to be kissed.

"Think I was naughty, Daddy," Andy said, "Spanking naughty."

"Hand spanking, or naughtier?"

"Don't know, Daddy, you can decide."

"I see," Andy's daddy pretended to be a stern daddy, "It better not be cane naughty because it's term time and no cane stripes allowed in term time."

"Don't have showers again till Monday, Daddy, so it can be slipper or crop naughty."

"We'll have to see," Andy's daddy gently stroked super-smooth just thirteen-year-old boy thigh, "Tell Daddy how naughty you've been."

"Saw a boy in assembly this morning, Daddy, and played with myself all day thinking about him."

"Didn't make yourself shoot, did you?"

"Oh no, Daddy. I know I mustn't do that! I was hard in most of my lessons, though."

"Hmmm." Daddy made himself sound disapproving. "What was so special about this boy that you had to play with yourself?"

"He's really good-looking, Daddy, and he's in the fifth form, so he's quite old and is bound to have a nice big cock."

"Getting a bit of a thing about big cocks, aren't you," Andy's Daddy pretended disapproval again.

"Cocks like yours," Andy giggled.

"And your uncles and cousins."

"Oh, yes, Daddy, those as well, of course. But this boy, Daddy, he looked like a boy it would be nice to have spunking in my mouth, and, Daddy, this is the spanking naughty part, when I was playing with myself, I thought about him eating me out."

"That is spanking naughty," Andy's Daddy agreed, "Over my knee with you."

Giggling delightedly, Andy arranged himself for spanking, and, to make sure he got a good one, he sniggered when he was arranged, "And when you eat my bum after you've spanked me, Daddy, I'll pretend it's that boy eating me."

 

"You can't keep on bringing the same boys every time," Antony Harris insisted, "Clients want a tight boy arse, not one that's been fucked so often they'll lose their cocks inside it." Drool had complained about the expense, of course, but he knew Harris was right. `Time for a Boy' had centred all its advertising on the fact that the boys would be mid-twentieth century ordinary boys, not a collection of well-used, cock-experienced ones.

"They think they're buying freshly taken slaves," Harris said, "Part of their enjoyment is in making those fresh slaves do what they're told. They don't want something that bends over at the sight of a man's cock."

Drool knew he had no choice if he wanted the money to keep rolling in, so, reluctantly, he searched for another school where boys were made to have showers and found one almost straight away. It was only a few miles from the one he had been using, and was bigger and better. A Boys' Grammar School with eight hundred boys in it that arranged its boys, not just by their ages as the other one did, but divided those ages into four different sections, so each age group had their showers at four different times.

That meant he could get four sets of slaves, a whole month of fresh boys and never have to use any boy twice.

One of Drool's technicians suggested that, if they refined their collection process just a little, an algorithm could be written so an entire showerfull of boys needn't be taken at the same time, just the four or five that were wanted for a week, and that way it would be possible to get several months' worth of boys from just that one school.

Drool, on consideration, decided to stick with his original plan regarding numbers – having twice as many boys as were needed for his clients meant that there were always another twenty naked boys hanging around for decorative purposes, and the clients clearly liked having naked boys to look at, so he settled for eight from each showers, which gave his clients plenty to choose from with the left-over ones for display.

Of course, he had to provide somewhere for those display items to sleep, and, being always wary of spending unnecessary money, Drool had never seen any reason why he should provide each display boy with a bed, but as he now had an established pattern that worked well and kept clients very happy and content, he did go as far as providing five large beds, so the `decoration only' boys had to sleep four naked boys to a bed.

However innocent and virgin they are at the start of a week of sleeping naked pressed up against other naked boys after days of watching boys being played with by men, they were not quite so innocent and virginal by the end of the week!

There were actually two more age groups, but they were older boys, and those Drool ignored, who would want to pay for something of seventeen or eighteen?

Harris was happy – he had a fresh boy to thrash into screaming submissiveness each week, clients were happy as they had for the most part virgin boys to deflower, and Drool was happy as the money rolled in.

What could possibly go wrong?

 

Len wasn't sure what to think, or, indeed, what he ought to think. Before he lost his pubes he'd never been over-interested in cock; a few wanks here and there, but they'd never really been that important, but with the disappearance of his pubes he had started wanking more frequently and found himself becoming more interested in having showers at school.

He knew he was looking at the other boys in a way he'd never done before, his eyes automatically checking out each and every cock there was to see. And not just cocks; Billy Millward's cane striped bum had been, in Len's opinion, something well-worth looking at!

Then, on Thursday, his own bum appeared to have been beaten, not striped like Billy's, just brown and purple bruised, and Billy had asked if he wanted to be mates and given his soft cock a quick squeeze, so Len thought he knew what sort of mate Billy had in mind.

Two weeks ago Len wouldn't have cared one way or the other, even when Billy, on Friday, had said to meet him at break on Monday if he was interested in being mates.

A wank every day or so had always been enough before, but Len had a dozen or so over the weekend thinking about being mates with Billy and his wonderfully striped bum.

"Not gonna bugger about," Billy said on Monday at break having decided boldness was the best approach, "Your bum's been belted like what mine has an' I don't spose you got no more idea of how it happened that I have. I've always been a bit of a dirty bugger, but since it happened I been loads more so. Same thing happened to you?"

Len confessed that it had.

"Wanking loads more, now, Billy," he admitted, "And looking at cocks in the showers as well. Think you've got a really nice one," Len blushed a bit as he said that.

"Yer, well, like yours an' all," Billy did not blush, "You had any dirty thoughts an' stuff?"

"Thought your bum looked really sexy all marked up," Len blushed again.

"Fading lots now," Billy sounded almost disappointed, but stuck to the subject he was interested in, "We both got bashed bums, so you wanna be mates? Dirty mates, I mean."

"Wanking mates? Like Ben and Will?"

"Were thinking of a bit more than just wanking," Billy ventured.

"Is there more?" a still horribly innocent-in-mind Len asked.

"Loads more," a nowhere near so innocent in mind or deed Billy shrugged, "Everything up to and including bumming."

"Bumming?" Len gasped, the idea of bumming had never entered his head, "You mean real bumming?"

"Yer, real like in you sticking that nice cock you got right up me bum," Billy made his intentions plain and unmistakable. "Ain't bothered about bumming you, though course you can suck me and toss me if you wants, but since me bum had done whatever were done to it, I been needing cock up it, and as your bum's been belted an' all, thought yer might be up for bumming me."

"Have wanked loads this weekend thinking about your cock," Len found himself admitting, "And about your bum as well. Never thought about bumming you though."

"Well," Billy demanded, "Is you up for giving it a go or not?"

"Don't see why not," Len impulsively answered, "Got somewhere we can try it?"

"My place after school," Billy announced, "Me brother be there, of course, but no need to worry about him. He will probably want to have a suck of you, though don't spose you'll mind that."

"How old is he?" Len, for some reason, wanted to know.

"Second year in Sec Mod," Billy said, thinking that was specific enough.

Len had no conscious knowledge of ever being sucked, though his sub-conscious knew different, and his cock thought that a twelve or young thirteen mouth would be a good place to start.

"Okay by me," he grinned.

 

There was some consternation, ribald laughter and derogatory comments in the showers at  St Edward's Grammar School for Boys when eight fourth year boys were discovered to be pubeless, repeated later in the day when a similar number of third and fifth year boys  were seen in the same condition.

There was no problem in the first and second year showers as none of the boy had pubes to start with, so there were none to go missing.

Naturally word of the missing pubes spread rapidly and the initial consensus that the now bald boys had all had a similar dirty urge to shave at exactly the same moment was soon discarded, it being too much of a coincidence even for a bad `who done it' novel.

The question the bald boys tried desperately to answer was `how did it happen', and the ones who still had pubes wondered if they might suffer a similar fate.

Later showers were attempted by boys retaining whatever they wore beneath their shorts, but bellows by the Games Teacher of, "Get those things off, you bunch of pansies," resulted in more pubeless boys being seen.

All that was, of course, unknown to boys like Ben and Will and Billy, who had discovered the sensual and sexual advantages of being smooth.

 

"You has to use Vaseline," Will explained to Ben, "So it goes in easy. Well, does with carrots an' I expect it'll be the same for your cock an' all. Have to be careful, though cos it gets everywhere and makes a real mess. Be best if we don't do it in bed so we don't get none on me sheets."

"Doesn't it, well, hurt?" Ben asked.

"Nah, carrots don't, just go in with a bit of a push. Feels amazing, Ben, an' gonna be even better with your cock."

"What about spunk?" Ben wanted to know.

"You spunks in me when you're bumming me," Will declared, "Same as I spunks in your mouth when you sucks me."

Ben found that funny, "You spunk in my mouth and I spunk up your bum," he giggled, "Seems fair."

Just how fair Ben discovered when Will knelt on the floor and Ben's cock, after a few false starts because they'd used too much Vaseline and it was very slippery in Will's crack, found where it was supposed to go and went there.

"Oh fuck!' in one boy voice and "Oh yes!' in the other indicated that a successful entry had been made, and after a few thrusts, Will was no longer on his knees but full length on the floor with Ben on top, driving him into the carpet.

For Ben's cock it was its first time in this location, but it was a quick learner of the basics at least and the slapping sounds made when Ben's smooth pubis encountered Will's equally smooth bum cheeks on the down thrusts encouraged even greater efforts.

Ben's cock may have been ignorant and unsophisticated, but Will's bum knew what it had to do; unknown to Will, this was not his bum's first encounter with cock and it knew which bits inside it needed to be touched, and tried hard by tensing and flexing to make sure they were.

The two boys had very different reactions to their successful close encounter, though both kept those reactions secret. Will could not help thinking that, magic as it had been to be fucked by Ben, perhaps a bigger, more adult cock would be even better, and Ben had images in his mind of a younger boy whose arse could be eaten before it was fucked.

 

"Were you naughty at school today?" his daddy asked naked Andy as the thirteen-year-old draped himself over his daddy's knees.

"A bit, Daddy," the nude boy confessed, wriggling so he could get his cock between his Daddy's thighs, "I found out who that boy is and what class he's in and I made sure I was where he could see me at breaks and some lesson change-overs."

"Did he notice you?"

"Oh, yes, Daddy, and he stared at me a bit when he saw me. I think he realised I was making myself available to be seen. I hope he did, anyway."

"You didn't smile at him when he saw you, did you?"

"Yes, Daddy. Was that very naughty of me?"

"Certainly naughty," Andy's daddy confirmed.

"And when I waited for him to come out from his last class, I licked my lips a bit when he looked at me," Andy admitted.

"That was definitely naughty," his daddy said, reaching down to remove one of his slippers.

"I know, Daddy," Andy did not sound at all apologetic for his misbehaviour.

"And your next showers are when?"

"Not till Thursday, Daddy, three days away."

"This is going to hurt," Daddy said, preparing to use his  slipper to turn white just teenboy bum red.

"Please, Daddy," Andy sighed.

 

Len found it difficult to keep his lower jaw in contact with his upper one when he followed Billy into Billy's house. Billy had warned him that his younger brother would be there and might fancy giving him a suck, but he hadn't expected to be greeted by a naked second year boy with a very hard cock.

"He's always ready for action," Billy shrugged, "Can't keep the little bleeder off me cock."

"Like you've ever tried," Harry sniggered, "Had me tossing him since I were seven," Harry told bewildered Len, "Not that I mind, like."

"Get yer stuff off, Len," Billy ordered as he began to remove his own clothes, "Can't do nothing with yer clothes on, can yer."

"An' I wants to see what you got to stick up Bill's bum," Harry added to help hurry things along.

"Yer, an' like all yer wants ter do is just look at it," Billy commented as he was taking his school trousers off.

"Can't help it if I likes sucking cock, can I," Harry pointed out reasonably.

"You mind if he gives you a bit of a gobble first?" Billy asked Len, who was still a little hesitant about undressing in Billy's front room, "Get yer cock in the mood, like?"

"You are gonna let me watch when he bums you, ain't you, Bill?" Harry checked that their agreement was still in place, "Suck him all the way if you ain't."

"Course," Billy affirmed, "Won't mind that, will you, Len? Be a bit dirty doin' it being watched, an' all."

Len's mind wasn't too sure, but his cock was well up for it, very well up. So well up it didn't feel at all comfortable being confined inside underpants.

"Oh, nice cock!" Harry breathed appreciatively when Len was at last naked. "Don't think it's as thick as yours, Bill, but might be a bit longer. Gonna be better for you up your bum than mine is," Harry concluded.

"Have you?" Len croaked.

"Yer," Harry said without hesitation, "But just ter make sure Bill likes it `fore he asked you ter do him. Didn't want to find out it weren't fer him when yer cock was already up his bum, like."

"Oh," Len said. He didn't say anything more because Harry's mouth had got straight down to work, and Len's eyes were popping out of his head at the feelings he was getting from having his cock sucked for the first time that he knew of.

Those feeling were surpassed by the ones he got when his cock was up inside Billy Millward's bum, and surpassed again when Harry, overcome by just watching, climbed aboard him while he was still inside Billy, and added to the weight that pushed Billy deep into sofa cushions.

 

"Masters," the Head Boy of St. Edward's Grammar School said sternly to the Head of the Fifth Year (St. Edwards was one of those Grammar Schools that liked to pretend it was the equal of the fee-paying Public Schools and tried to ape the customs and traditions of those long-established organisations) "It has come to my attention that one boy in the Third Form who used to have pubic hair, no longer does have pubic hair, and whilst I have no personal objections to him now being completely smooth, I find it difficult to believe his assertion that his present state is no different from most of the other boys in his Year. Do you have any knowledge of this state of affairs?"

"Not of Third Year boys, no, Head Boy," Masters said, standing to attention as was the required behaviour, "But I am aware that every boy, apart from the Untouchables, in Year Five has been similarly afflicted."

"All? Except for the Untouchables?" the Head Boy required confirmation.

"All, Head Boy," Masters confirmed, "Every single one of us."

"But not the Untouchables," the Head Boy mused.

"Even those boys who have shown no inclinations to indulge in normal activities but do not class as Untouchables are also now smooth," Masters said.

`Untouchables' was the appellation given to boys who were too gross and fat for anyone to want to touch and it seemed strange to the Head Boy that they alone should have escaped whatever it was that caused pubic hair loss.

"Strange," the Head Boy mused, "One's first thought was that it was a new fashion amongst those boys who behave in a normal manner, but if the Unwilling have also lost their pubes, that cannot be the case."

"No, Head Boy," Masters agreed, "But the Unwilling are not also undesirable, are they? I know of several amongst them who have very attractive cocks."

"Indeed," the Head Boy agreed, "And I'm sure it is a matter of regret to many that those cocks are not willing to be used."

"Could it be, Head Boy, that this sudden onset of baldness has got something to do with cocks and the uses that may be made of them? That would explain why it's only the Untouchables that still have pubic hair."

"You may have a point, Masters," the Head Boy agreed; "I'd be most obliged if you would ask your Prefects to see if they discern any increase or alterations in cock use behaviour, and I'll ask the Heads of Years Three and Four to do the same. No need, at this stage, to bother with Years One and Two as those boys don't yet have pubes to lose."

"True, Head Boy," Masters said, "Though if there is some connection between the loss of our pubic hair and the uses made of our cocks, might it not be that those boys who have an interest in Year One and Two boys may notice some change in their behaviour also?"

"Good point, Masters," the Head Boy approved, "One or two of my Prefects are that way inclined; I'll check with them to see if they've noticed any improvements or deterioration in their boys' behaviour."

 

Aloisius Drool was beginning to encounter problems with `Time for a Boy'. His bookings were all exceptional and all the clients who had indulged in a week of boy-delightful holiday there had nothing but praise for the services they enjoyed, but, as always in a modern world, when men discover a way to enjoy boys legally, behavioural scientists and head doctors become involved.

Drool, they claimed, had done insufficient research on the effects that being taken from their own time, sold and used as slaves for sexual purposes before being returned to when and where they came from, had upon the boys he used.

In vain Drool's expensive lawyers argued that it was irrelevant what effects may be experienced as the boys were not of this time and the Courts had already ruled that they were not, in effect, boys at all but simply property, but the head doctors would have none of it.

Could anyone be certain, they argued, that the boys were even returned in exactly the same physical condition as they were before they were taken? Was a boy still the virgin he had been a few microseconds before?

He was certainly not a virgin anymore when he was sent back, so which state would apply to him, virgin or non-virgin?

And the same with body hair; the depilatory radiation treatment was permanent, not temporary. The boys were smooth when they were returned so would they arrive smooth?

Those were just physical considerations, what about the effects of being buggered and sucked for a week on a previously virgin boy's mind?

Would a boy hide himself in a dark cupboard for the rest of his life in fear of cock getting anywhere near him? Or would the opposite be the case and a smoothed and devirginalised boy be desperate for any cock he could get?

A returned boy, Drool's lawyers argued, had been absent from his own space/time for microseconds only, and microseconds were insufficient time for him to be buggered and made to suck cock and swallow spunk, so the boy could have no memory of this happening, as, in his own time it simply had not happened and could not have happened.

True, the boy had been used for all sorts of sexual purposes, but that use was in his future, indeed way beyond his future, so it was impossible for any signs or evidence of that use to be apparent, be they physical  or mental.

Drool was permitted to continue his business while an investigation was instigated to do the necessary research.

 

Ben could not help but notice that the boy, who he had discovered was named `Andy' was around to be seen more and more often, and that he always smiled, often licked his lips and even gave tiny little waves that seemed utterly suggestive.

Ben no longer even tried to pretend to himself that he didn't want that boy's bum, every night he had the dream about the boy's bum, and when he got that chance, when he was alone and the boy was alone, Ben said, "Hi."

In Andy's mind there was only one reason why a Fifth Form boy would speak to a Second Year boy, and he did what any Second Form boy at Milford County Grammar School would now do.

Andy smiled seductively, licked his lips openly and said, "Hi, I'm Andy, and you're Ben and you want to get at my bum, don't you."

It wasn't a question, just a plain, simple statement of fact.

Naturally, Ben blushed and blustered, but Andy was not put out or off.

"It's okay," he smiled, "I'd like you to have my bum. I would love to have you eat me out before you fuck me.  You do want to eat my bum, don't you? I love being eaten before I'm fucked."

What was Ben to do? He did the only thing he could do, told Will a fib that his mum would be home this Thursday and arranged to take Andy home instead.

When Andy told his daddy that, his daddy didn't care that Andy had school showers on Thursday, he delighted the boy by giving him some lovely cane stripes on the bum for Ben to admire when he had his meal, and Ben more than just admired them, he thought the dozen beautiful  purple lines on Andy's bum were simply the most wonderfully dirty thing he'd ever seen and spent one of their two available hours with his face buried in Andy's arse.

 

"We all agree that cock use has shown a marked upturn, Head Boy," Masters reported, "In the Fifth Year the number of Unwilling has more than halved."

"Down to seven in Form Four," the Head of that year, an attractive, dark-haired boy reported.

"Nine in the Third Form," every man's ideal Grammar School boy – fourteen, slender, fair-haired and blue-eyed and reeking of pheromones, said in his not-quite-broken boy voice, "But six of that nine are wavering."

"We've had to introduce a rota system for the toilets," Masters said, "Boys are queuing up to get in them at breaks and lunchtimes."

"We divert some to the bicycle shed and the smokers' bushes when it's not raining," the Head of the Fourth Form explained, "But it's pandemonium on wet days."

"That fits with my own observations," the Head Boy nodded, "It took me three months to convince French that he had to swallow, and now he won't stop pestering me to bugger him."

"He is very buggerable," the ideal Grammar School boy opined, "He'd have most of the Third Year after him if he wasn't your boy."

"Why do you think I chose him?" the Head Boy smiled, "But looking buggerable and wanting to be buggered are very different things."

"Same with Gradi," the Deputy Head Boy put in, "I put it down at first to him having Italian parents, but he's become exceptionally eager, even taking Mediterranean enthusiasm into account."

"And Gradi is a First Year boy," the Head Boy clarified, "Who presumably did not have a hair to lose."

"Not a single one," his Deputy confirmed, "Smooth as a billiard ball."

"Which would seem to dispose of the theory that loss of pubic and other body hair accounts for the, seemingly considerable, increase in cock activity," the Head Boy stated. "Gradi did not have any hairs to lose, yet Jenkins tells me that he has become insatiable."

"They must be connected," Masters insisted; he was not only a very attractive boy but a very bright one as well, undoubtedly destined to obtain a First in Classics at Oxbridge and have a good career in the Civil Service, "It cannot be co-incidence that the only boys left in the School with pubes are the Untouchables and the Sixth Form."

"Or that so many of the previously Unwilling have become as willing as all the rest of us," the ideal Grammar School boy added his bit, "And there has been an increase in inter-Year liaisons as well."

"Has there?" the Head Boy became alert, "Not that there's anything intrinsically wrong with mixed Year activity, of course, but it's something usually confined to Prefects and Lower School boys, and it would be bound to be noticed by the teaching staff if older boys were seen holding hands with much younger ones in the corridors."

"Or if Fifth Year boys were still sucking each other off when a teacher arrived to take a lesson," Masters said dryly.

"No," the Head Boy agreed, "That would be most unfortunate indeed. Fifth Year boys especially; they have important examinations in the summer, and should be concentrating on those more than on cock. The School's reputation depends on good Examination results."

The Head Boy sighed, thought and showed why he had been chosen to be Head Boy.

"It would be pointless and probably counter-productive to attempt to order boys to engage in abstinence, but they must be encouraged to be circumspect. No kissing in the corridors, no exposed cocks during lessons, and absolutely no buggery on school premises where there is any possibility of it being observed by teachers," he looked at his Deputy and the three Heads of Year, "I can leave that all to you, I trust? Good. Now, I have to go; French is waiting for me in my study."

 

Drool knew it would take some time for the Commission to investigate and report, but he sensibly decided it would be in his commercial interest to look for a different source for the boys he required. Out of curiosity rather than any expectation he kept to the same spatial co-ordinates he was already using and trawled back in time to see what boys there may be in the location of St.Edward's Grammar School.

He found very little but grass and other agricultural matters until he reached Late Roman, where, not only was there evidence of civilisation, but there, on the same site, was what could only be a slave market!

Drool was thrilled! If the market was a reasonably flourishing one then he could get the stock he needed for `Time for a Boy' from there alone. No increased expense in having expensive technicians searching for co-ordinates, and, importantly, as the boys he'd take were already slaves, no Commission could rule they should not be used. Slaves were simply property, and no rules or laws existed to prevent the use of property.

`Time for a Boy' clients would not be simply purchasing a boy they were able to use as a slave for a week, they'd be getting actual, real slaves; boys who, in their own time, would have lives just as filled with cock as they would at `Time for a Boy'.

Drool salivated at the thought and promptly helped himself to a sample, an early teen sample that was obviously from some barbarian tribe somewhere; long haired and short on any civilised behaviour, and though it obviously could not speak English, it knew it was a slave and all that being a boy slave implied.

It couldn't be described as `willing' but neither did it attempt any resistance, and Drool thoroughly enjoyed plundering both its points of entry, which, by the screams it made when its arse was used, had been virginal before they met Drool's cock.

Boys like that, Drool decided, were even better than the ones he had been using; they had no wish to be used but knew if they did not give satisfaction, like it or not, they would be severely and very painfully punished, and although, obviously, there are boys who enjoy a bit of pain, Drool hadn't come across any who wanted the skin whipped from their backs. If all were similar to the one he took as a sample, however much their minds disliked the use their bodies were put to, they had enough sense to pretend otherwise and would do their very best to avoid being whipped, or even worse.

The only problem was the number of boys Drool could obtain for his clients to get their hands on; the slave market he'd found was not a major one and in terms of population numbers, there were simply less boys about than there were in the mid-twentieth century.

On the up-side, though, Drool found as he scrolled back the years, slaves had been being sold in that Market for the best part of four hundred years, and that added up to a pretty considerable number of boys.

Of course, as the market didn't specialise in boys and sold any type of slave, Drool would need to have algorithms written so he only got boys, but as the slaves were all sold naked, that was only a programmer's problem and nothing to worry about.

Another factor that Drool considered was that with his current source of boys he could get nothing younger than eleven, but that did not apply to the slave market he'd discovered, boys half that age were up for sale, and that opened up an as yet untapped market for Drool, there being, he knew, a considerable number of potential clients who would enjoy a boy of six or seven.

Boys of that age had no appeal for Drool, but the money some men would pay to get their cocks in one appealed a lot, so Drool added the young ones, intending to have special weeks for those clients who liked their meat to be very tender.

 

"Will," Ben summoned up the courage to confess, "I wasn't telling the truth when I said Mum would be home last Thursday."

"Don't matter," Will shrugged, knowing he also had something to confess about last Thursday.

"I cheated on you, Will," Ben admitted.

"So what? And not cheating, is it, cos we're not boyfriends or nothing, just mates what likes doing stuff together."

"Yeah, spose," Ben muttered, "But still think I shoulda been honest."

"Be honest now," Will grinned, "I guess you must have been up to something dirty."

"Was," Ben confirmed, "You know that kid I keep dreaming about?"

"The one whose bum you fancy eating," Will sniggered.

"Yer, well, I have."

"You haven't?!"

"Have. Then I bummed him after."

"Oh, wow!" Will approved, "You dirty bugger! Was it any good?"

"Amazing, Will. He'd been caned before I did him, purple marks all over his bum. It was so sexy, Will, I couldn't stop getting there and eating him."

"Did he like it?"

"Loved it, Will. Said he loves having his bum eaten before he gets fucked."

"He been done before, then?"

"Loads it seems. Dad, uncles and cousins."

"Oh, wow!"

"Yer. I were the first one not family to do him, he said."

"That is so dirty!" Will enthused, "I thought I'd been pretty dirty, but not  a patch on that!"

"Why? What you done?"

"Mr Davis kept me behind after school on Thursday. Said I hadn't been paying attention in History."

"Well," Ben grinned, "You weren't were you. You was playing with my cock all the way through History."

"I know," Will sniggered, "An' course, I was worried he might have noticed, but all he said was he needed some help in his stock room, and when we was in there he asked if he should lock the door."

"Will!" Ben exclaimed in shock.

"So I thought he must have seen, so I said he could if he wanted."

"And?" a hard now Ben asked.

"Well," Will jumped to the end, "Finished up with him bumming me."

"You let him bum you?"

"Not so much let him, said he could."

"Wow," Ben breathed in awe, "Thought I'd been super dirty eating a second year's arse and bumming him, but you been bummed by a teacher, Will. That's incredible!"

"Was," Will giggled, "Really stretched and filled me."           

"Will," Ben was suddenly serious for a moment, "I know we've been tossing and playing with each other for ages, but we never did anything really dirty till we, well, till we lost our pubes, did we?"

"Never even sucked," Will said thoughtfully, "You think there's some sort of connection?"

"Don't know. Praps it's just that being bald feels, well, more sexy, sorta thing."

"Could be, I spose," Will accepted. "Hope mine don't grow back again," he giggled wickedly.

"Me too," Ben joined in the giggle.

 

"Welcome to `Time for a Boy', Drool began his speech to the week's guests. He'd made a change or two to this presentation, the most important one being that he had the slave boys already lined up, naked and on show.

"What you see before you," he waved a hand at the naked boys, "Are real slave boys, boys taken directly from a First Century slave market. I have no idea of their places of birth, no idea how they came to be slaves, but slaves they are, and as slaves I urge you to use them for your pleasure. How you use them, how you treat them is entirely up to you. Verbal communication will obviously be impossible, but I don't expect you want them for conversational purposes."

Drool waited for the laughter to die down before continuing. "As for their ages, all I can say is that they youngest is young, perhaps nine or ten, and the oldest appears to be about fifteen or so. They did not, unfortunately, come with birth certificates."

Again he waited for laughter.

"You will notice that there are plenty to choose from, but I must give a warning that we at `Time for a Boy' have no knowledge of any previous use they made have had. Some will undoubtedly be virgin still, some probably not, but one thing I can assure you of, none will be virgin by the end of the week. The ones that don't get sold now will be providing a cabaret each evening at dinner, performances I am sure you will find entertaining.
Now, gentlemen, shall we begin the auction? I'm sure you'll all agree that it is time for a boy."

 

isukwell@hotmail.co.uk