Date: Tue, 07 Mar 2017 14:08:22 -0500 From: The Paternal Watcher Subject: War Boys Chapter One: Gemini For many years I attended a surreal event called the Pennsic War, where thousands of people would gather for a week or two to dress up in medieval clothing and pretend to live the life of a thousand years ago or so. It took place during the summer at a sprawling campground which was decked out to give it a somewhat medieval feel, although there were certain modern conveniences that were difficult to hide, such as the shower building and the camp store. In truth, just about everybody clung to some 21st century toys, be it the phone, the shoes, or just the glasses, but each of us made an attempt to bring the days of swords and chivalry to life while we were together. How it usually works out is with some "m'lord" and "m'lady" in the talk, and an honest attempt to be polite and friendly, even to strangers. The teenagers pay lip service to the medieval flavor; their garb is unusual for the modern world, but less often historically accurate. There's a subset of teen boys, though, who seem to make it their personal missions to wear just enough to keep the the sunburn off their privates, and that only barely. These are the war boys which I like best. One year I spotted two -- two! -- before I'd even set up my tent. They were among a group of boys and girls gathered near the barn, which is a space used for a lot of activities including, when nothing else is going on, teens doing nothing. This is summer, and no matter where you go, teens will do their damnedest to do nothing at least part of the day. At any rate, these two weren't trying very hard to look medieval at all: they were each wearing dark shoes and what looked like black cargo pants, and that's it: the shirtlessness must have been their hat-tip to the middle ages. They were also clearly identical twins, probably about 16 years of age. I was lugging a cartload of gear towards my camp when I saw them, and it was loaded higher than I was tall and I still had a couple of bags under my arms. As I passed the barn I jostled the cart just a bit and, as I'd hoped, my helmet slipped off the top of the pile with a clang. "Ho, Gemini!" I called, beckoning to the pair. "If you give me a hand to my camp, there'll be a reward in it for you." They looked at each other, shrugged, and came over to help. One picked up the helmet, and the other offered to take the gear I was carrying. "My thanks," I murmured. "It's just up here, past the bath house." "You a fighter?" asked the one carrying my helm. "Scout, actually. There's something about outrunning people in heavy armor in the woods that's a lot of fun. Maybe not chivalrous, but I like to show off skills they don't have." The two laughed, but his brother said, "Some fighters can run down scouts." He was right, of course: any fighter that got close enough to me and said, "Scout, you're dead," was able to end my spying, at least until I returned from the nearest resurrection point. Since we don't wear full armor, that substituted for being whacked with a rattan weapon. Some fighters were particularly good at scout hunting. "When they start climbing trees, I'll believe it," I said. "By the way, I'm Arinor," I said, introducing myself with my medieval name. I actually got it from an elf character I read about; not everyone's a purist about every element. "We're Mike and Steve," said the one with my bags. "Just Mike and Steve?" I asked. "Really no point coming up with new names," said Steve. "If we're together, no one can tell us apart anyway. Both our names are really 'Mikeansteve.'" "Ah, that's where you're wrong," I said in reply. "If you just wear different color schemes in garb, people will learn pretty fast. Or maybe they'll just start calling you Mikeansteve the Red and Mikeansteve the Green." We were all laughing when we got to my camp. I greeted the camp master, and he pointed to my designated spot. "You'll have to give me a moment to find your payment among my possessions," I said. I'm really not that good at "speaking forsoothly," and I fake it with tricks like avoiding contractions and obviously modern words. It's not actually accurate, but I'm not the only one who settles. At least I don't play Pokemon Go on the battlefield. Yeah, that's a thing. "You want us to help set up your tent?" asked Mike, or Steve. "It could take awhile," I warned. "Is there someplace you'd rather be?" Steve -- or Mike, it was the other one, anyway -- snorted. "There's nothing going on anywhere, and if go back to camp our mom will put us to work." "At least if we work for you, we might get paid," said the other. His brother thumped him in the ribs. "What? Being honest is noble, right?" I just laughed. "Stay if you will, and I will show my hospitality anon. Help me build my castle, and you will be welcome in it for as long as it stands." "Like two weeks?" one of them asked, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, okay, we're in." And they were. In fact, they were more helpful than I expected because they took direction well and had experience with these canvas tents. The tent went up, and all my stuff was inside, in less than an hour. "You've got a pretty sweet bed," said Mike, bouncing slightly to test its strength. "Easy to put together, too." "Thanks to you, my young lords, mine castle is now open for hosting, on the bed or otherwise." The two brothers laughed, and I reached into one of my several wooden chests to produce a bottle. "If you would honor a word of secrecy as well as you assisted in its construction, your reward will come from this bottle. What say you?" "Is that mead?" asked Steve, his dark eyes bright. "Indeed," I replied, "and a goodly brew at that. It was part of my payment for last year's war, as it happens." "We'll keep quiet," said Mike, and his brother nodded. I popped the cork and took a swig, passing it to the standing brother and then sitting on the bed myself. "My young lords, since we are now sharing a bottle in fellowship, there is a boon I must ask of thee." The one I believed to be Steve -- next to me on the bed -- said, "Sure, m'lord, what can we do you for?" Their attempts at speaking forsoothly were abysmal, but at least they were putting in some effort. "I confess that after the fine service you have done me this day, it is a point of honor for me to name you truly at each turn. Surely there is some way to know one of you from the other, despite you sharing a countenance betwixt you." They looked at each other for a long moment, and at first I thought I had just laid it on too thick, but then the standing one said, "There is one difference, actually." "Then out with it, lads! If it is a question of discretion, fear not! for I have laid myself bare by virtue of this bottle we now share, and surely as I trust no knowledge of that will pass your lips, so too will I not reveal this secret to another, should you not wish it so." Another looked exchanged, then the one beside me took a long pull from the bottle and handed it to his brother, who did the same. In response to my surprised look, the one next to me said, "This is something only our parents know. You're really nice and we're willing to tell you, but we really have to show you." "Is it such a terrible truth that you must find courage in a bottle?" I asked. "I would not bring you pain to sate my curious nature, friends." The standing one replied, "Nah, it's just kinda awkward. Check it out." His brother stood up next to him, they each took another drink, and then handed me the bottle. "Ready?" one of them said. I nodded, although I was unsure what I was expected to be ready for. Simultaneously, they opened and pulled down their pants. Not surprisingly, they weren't wearing anything underneath. I automatically averted my eyes. "No, you have to look," I was told in a voice just now slurring from the mead. I did. They both had lovely genitals, but I was missing something. "You're clearly becoming men," I said helpfully, "but I'm not yet certain what this tells me about your differences. Indeed, your shafts look very much alike, despite their relaxed state." "Here, look closer," said one, and they stepped right up to me, close enough that I could smell the intoxicating aroma of scrotum. They each lifted up their own penis, and that's when I noticed the difference. "Mike dresses right, and I dress left," said Steve. "I guess that's the term tailors use when they're making pants. Dad told us that, anyway." "You truly know much about each other," I said, continuing to look at the two sets of nearly-identical genitals before me. "You're sure there are no other differences between you?" "Steve will get hard just from you looking at him like that," said Mike, "but I won't until you touch me." Sure enough, his brother's penis started rising as if on cue. At that point, all thoughts but lust fled my head. "Then touch you I shall," I said, grabbing Mike's soft cock in my hand, while at the same time leaning forward to stare at Steve's up close. "First one hard gets a blow job," I said, abandoning any attempt at sounding medieval. It was kind of surreal at that point. Sticking with the challenge I had been given, I watched Steve's penis while fondling Mike's. Since they looked in almost every way identical, it gave me a strange sense of dissociation as the one I was looking at grew in length even as I felt the girth of another cock expanding in my grasp. Before long, I had a new problem. "You're both pretty hard," I said, "and I can't really tell which one got there first." "You could suck us both," said Steve. "We could double-team you," said Mike. I smiled. "How about we split the difference?" I asked. "I'll bet I can get you both off before the two of you can get ME off. Deal?" "What do we get if we win?" "My cum all over both your faces. Then I'll finish you anyway." "And if we lose?" "After you get off you'll end up with my cum all over both your faces." "You're on." To make this happen I laid on my back, with the brothers laying alongside of me. Each was on his side, and they could trade off servicing my member while I had a cock at the ready to either side of my face. It was like I'd entered the world of infinite beautiful teen bodies, begging for my sexual favors. They smelled and tasted slightly different, I discovered much to my surprise, but each boy was equally eager to get my oral lovin'. That's not to say that the one in hand wasn't enjoying himself: the thrusting was every bit as enthused as I provided the touching they clearly yearned for. I was barely able to acknowledge what was going on below my waist, which is probably for the best: if I'd been able to think it through I would have spent my load and lost the "bet" in no time. A little alcohol, which clearly had inhibited these boys from holding back on their desires, was also helping me not nut too fast. My discipline won out, in the end: first I felt a tangy warmth fill my mouth, I think from Mike (even knowing the secret way to tell them apart, it wasn't something I was exactly focusing on at that moment!), then Steve sprayed the entire left side of my face with his seed. I swallowed, and as they both started rubbing their hardness against my cum-slicked cheeks I erupted. There might have been a mouth on me in the moment, but all I can say is that we all had cum faces when the last drop had been milked from every cock. Cleanup isn't as easy in a canvas tent -- even a very large one -- as it would be in a house, with running water and convenient clean towels. I offered up exactly one towel for the three of us, and then suggested we could just lick each other clean. Maybe these Gemini hadn't been brought up with the same kind of porn that I was, but they decisively declined and quickly went for the towel. Maybe not exactly the ending I wanted, but I also know that this was just the first day of a two-week journey in the current middle ages. ------ If you enjoyed the preceding work of fiction, please consider donating to Nifty. Every dollar goes a long way.