Date: Wed, 23 Jan 2002 00:30:44
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "The Brewsters Go To Hell - Part 2/6" (m/m)

Caution/Welcome.  This is Part Two of a six-part story involving four
brothers, one twelve-year- old, one fourteen-year-old, and two
sixteen-year-old twins.  It is posted at free gay adult story sites for
adult entertainment only.  Permission is not given to copy electronically
nor in any other form for the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites
other than those described here.  This is the thirty-third story in the
Brewster Boys special events and myths series.  In Part One we left the
boys plummeting down a dark seemingly bottomless hole which suddenly and
mysteriously opened up at the bottom of the hill they were tobogganing
down.  Comments and invitations to toboggan parties can be sent to the
author, J.O. Dickingson at authorsix@hotmail.com Since we do not know if
the boys will survive this adventure, it would be best if you hold any
future story suggestions until we know the outcome of this tale.

                    THE BREWSTERS GO TO HELL
                               OR
                   SATAN MEETS THE BREWSTERS
(A Scarey Bedtime Story or An Uplifting Moral Story in six parts)

               PART TWO: HUNS AND MONGOLS, OH MY

     Frightened out of their minds, the boys did not notice at first as the
toboggan began to slow down, and although it continued its descent into the
black, seemingly bottomless hole, it was gently floating downward instead
of plunging.  It was still frightening, and the boys clung to each other in
fear and uncertainty as they continued to drop toward a light far below
them.  Suddenly emerging from the pitch-black tunnel, they landed on solid
ground with a jarring thump which would have knocked the fillings from
their teeth, had they had fillings.  The brightness of their surroundings
was painfully blinding after the tunnel, and the boys squinted as they
shielded their eyes with their mittened hands.
     "Holy fuck!" cried Bobby as his eyes adapted.
     "You can say that again," observed his older brother Benny.
     "Holy fuck!" he repeated.
     "I didn't mean for real."
     "I mean for real.  Look!"
     The five boys glanced around them as their eyes grew accustomed to the
brightness of their surroundings, which appeared to be caused by towering
flames burning in open pits in every direction.  It was not the flames that
had caused Bobby's consternation, nor the sudden fear in his three
brothers.  It was the sight of five familiar figures, five very ugly
familiar figures, with anger and pure hate burning in their eyes.
     "Holy fuck!" the four boys chorused as they leaped to their feet, and
the chase was on with the four brothers scattering in all four directions.
     A good-looking ten-year-old vampire charged after Brent, having had
the hots for the blond teenager the moment he had laid eyes on him, and a
special burning desire for revenge ever since that fateful evening.  Brett
found himself being pursued by a forty-two-year-old warlock with the same
desire for revenge, his coattails trailing behind him as he chased the boy
who had beamed him with a bookcase on Halloween, and who he suspected had
his spell book, which having had his memory wiped out, he'd been depending
on for survival.  Not only had he had to pay a major fine to the Warlock
Guild, but for the past two years he'd been outcast and thoroughly
ridiculed by its members for having lost the book, and for being not only
unable to remember where it was, but unable to cast a spell to find it
besides.  He did know the last he'd seen it was there in the Brewster
household, a chamber of horrors that had haunted him ever since, and there
was only one way that he could have been subjected to the tortures that
he'd been forced to suffer that night, though that a mere child could
master such a complex spell so quickly defied all logic.
     Bobby, meanwhile, was being chased by a werewolf, eighteen years old
now and even handsomer than ever, who for the past two years had dreamed of
the day he'd meet up with the youngster again and doggy fuck him until the
boy begged him to bite him and turn him into a werewolf also.  It would be
only the beginning of the payment for the multiple rapes he'd endured by a
motley group of weirdly dressed mortals that Halloween night in the
Brewster household.  As the creature angrily dashed around burning pits and
dodged around demons and creatures of every shape and size in pursuit of
his prey, he let out a long, fierce howl that sent fear through even the
monsters watching the chase, and which caused Bobby to scream even louder
as he doubled his speed.
     Benny found himself dodging not one, but two pursuers, George and
Spook, the two boogeyman buddies who had two years to plan the most
exquisite tortures for the teenager.  His stylish spiked hair and blond
highlights made him even more attractive than he had been two years ago,
and now that he could cum besides, they had great plans for him after they
were done with him themselves.  He was going to spend an eternity suffering
under the hands of sadists that would make the Marquis de Sade look like a
pussycat.  Dodging between the legs of a particularly tall and long-legged
creature the likes of which he'd never imagined before and which belonged
in someone's nightmare, Benny suddenly realized that everyone, or at least
almost everyone, was totally naked.  That observation certainly did not
help as the naturally curious boy now tried to catch glimpses of the men,
boys, and creatures that he raced past in addition to finding a refuge from
the two determined pursuers.
     With bloodcurdling screams echoing off the brimstone walls, the four
boys dashed about the large cavern, leaping over the smaller fires and
dodging around the larger ones, and leaping over, ducking under and trying
to hide behind the most bizarre individuals they'd ever seen.  With the
padding of their parkas and heavy snow pants and with their large fur-lined
winter boots they were not as agile as they were two years ago, and on
numerous occasions they felt the hands of their pursuers grasping them.
Not only that, they were beginning to perspire profusely in their heavy
clothing.  It was only pure fear that kept them out of the clutches of the
demons chasing them.
     Dashing around a large stalagmite, Brett managed to remove his parka
and toss it at the feet of the Warlock chasing him, causing the man to
stumble.  It wasn't much, but it gave the teenager hope as he turned and
dashed off down the nearest tunnel he could find in the hopes of finding a
niche he could hide in, and where he could collect his thoughts and perhaps
think of a spell that could save him, and of course his brothers, whom he
could hear screaming in the distance.
     Bobby had meanwhile managed to remove his parka too and had tossed it
in the face of the teenage werewolf chasing him in the hopes also of
slipping down one of the many caverns and losing him.  Dashing down the
first he came to, he didn't bother worrying where he was going and charged
madly ahead, taking whichever tunnel he came across.  Zigzagging through
the maze of tunnels, the twelve-year-old finally paused and looked behind
him, and relieved to find his pursuer had gotten lost, leaned against the
stone wall to catch his breath, and to remove his winter boots and heavy
snow pants.  He had no sooner done so than the teenage werewolf came
leaping around the corner, and thanking the boy for starting to disrobe to
save him the time, the creature dashed forward and the chase was on again.
     Benny was managing to keep ahead of his two pursuers, the slight and
athletic boy grabbing a hold of a low stalactite and swinging from
stalactite to stalactite across a large boiling pit that the bulkier and
more awkward creatures had to circle.  Even with his advantages of age and
agility, it was difficult to shake the couple, two years of anger giving
them plenty of motivation.  Charging down one corridor and then another, he
suddenly spotted Bobby charging toward him.  The two boys continued
straight ahead, heading right for each other, and at the last moment Benny
leaped over Bobby as Bobby ducked and ran under his older brother and
between Benny's two pursuers who, charging blindly ahead, collided with the
werewolf who'd been unable to avoid them.  As they picked themselves up,
they resumed the chase with even greater anger.
     Brent had also managed to remove his parka, and suddenly spinning
around, he tossed it over the young vampire chasing him, at the same time
throwing the boy into one of the walls, giving the youngster a good bang on
the head and giving him a lead.  Staggering back and struggling free of the
parka, the young boy cursed his prey and took up the chase once more.
Charging across the large cavern, Brent hopped on one foot as he removed
one winter boot and then the other and tossed them at the pursuing boy,
unfortunately without much effect.
     By this time the pursuit had caught the attention of a number of the
inhabitants, and they all paused what they were doing to watch, which was a
relief to those who were being tortured by the former.  The boys were
beginning to tire as they dashed in and out of the tunnels and across the
large cavern they had found themselves in, but their pursuers were not the
type to keep themselves in the best of shape and were beginning to lag.
Brent dashed out of one tunnel as Brett dashed out of an opposite one, and
the two identical blond youths dashed toward each other as each headed to
the opposite tunnel, their pursuers hot on their tails.  At one point all
four boys found themselves arriving in the middle of the cavern from four
different directions, and spinning around several times in a circle, they
dashed for the perimeter again.  The boogeymen and werewolf had no trouble
switching directions, but it took a moment for the vampire and the warlock
to determine which of the two disappearing blonds was their prey.
     The four Brewster boys, having shed as much of their winter clothing
as they could, managed to use their youth and their agility to keep out of
the grasp of their pursuers, but the five monsters chasing them were
determined, and anger and hate giving them the advantage, ever so slowly
they began to gain.  The five creatures finally cornered their prey not far
from where the boys had first landed in this strange cavern on their
toboggan.
     "All right, all right," Brent panted as he held up his right hand.
"Kings X."
     "What does that mean?" asked the ten-year-old vampire.
     "I dunno," Brent gasped.  "It means like time-out.  My grandpa says
they used it all the time when they were playing tag or chasing each
other."
     "This is no game," snarled the werewolf.
     "And there's no time out for you four.  Your time is up," the warlock
announced, and the other creatures chuckled at his wit.
     "Hey, wait a minute," Brett said as he slowly straightened up, having
been bent over and grasping his thighs as he'd caught his breath.  "You
guys made a promise Halloween night not to come get us, remember?  And you
did too," he accused as he looked over at George.
     "We didn't come get you.  You came to us."
     "Only because of that fucking hole," Bobby retorted.
     "Yeah," said Brett, thinking quickly.  "Where did it come from
anyway?"  he asked suspiciously.
     "I created it with a spell," the Warlock replied proudly.  He had been
slowly relearning all his spells, and writing them down in his own spell
book, being unable to get anyone to lend him theirs.  Spells were a
difficult thing to master, and it was taking him time.
     "Then it's the same as you coming to get us."
     "No it isn't."
     "Is."
     "Is not."
     "Well, it's not fair."
     "Tough shit."
     "We're gonna make you eat shit."
     "Maybe bung you up so you can't shit."
     "Yeah.  Like for months."
     "Big deal, Grandpa Campbell is like that all the time."
     "Where the hell are we anyway?"
     "Hell."
     "Yeah?" Benny said as he looked around.  "Wicked."
     "Why of course," the boogeyman called George responded.
     "He doesn't mean it that way," his buddy Spook advised.
     "Wish we had some of that cheese ball with us," observed Brent.
     "Cheese ball?" his brothers and the five monsters chorused.
     "Oh maaaan, Brent.  This is no time to be thinking about eating,"
groaned Benny.
     "No, I mean it had garlic," he said meaningfully as he looked at the
young vampire.
     "Maybe there's still enough on our nuts."
     "That was Monday.  Haven't you had a bath since then?"
     "Oh yeah."
     "I haven't," announced Bobby.
     "Ewwwww," chorused his brothers.
     "Anyway, there wouldn't be anything left on them, not the way Brett
licked them off."
     "Yeah, well you didn't exactly hold back either, brother," observed
Brett.
     "Up yours."
     "Will you stop it!" screamed the Warlock.
     "Hey Brent, take off your socks and wave it at them.  They got to be
real sweaty in this place."
     "My feet don't stink."
     "Do too."
     "Do not."
     "Do."
     "Stop!" screamed the Warlock, gripping his head as if he had a
headache.
     "Yes, stop!" thundered a voice that echoed through the cavern.  There
was immediate silence.  The four boys, five creatures and everyone watching
turned and looked at the speaker.  The five denizens of the underworld, and
those of the watchers who were followers, quickly dropped to their knees.
There before them stood an impressive, muscular, six-foot-six tall,
knockout gorgeous angel, perfect in beauty and body even if it was bright
scarlet, with glittering gems as a necklace imbedded in his skin, narrow
goat's horns on his head, a black goatee and a long arrow-headed tail,
large raven-like wings, and a humongous cock the size of which the boys had
never seen before.  He was wearing a studded black harness, studded leather
bands about his biceps and wrists, and link chain anklets.
     "Whoa," gasped Benny as he looked up at the individual.
     "Oh yeah," agreed Bobby, staring at the humongous cock.
     "What is going on here?" the new arrival asked, his voice deep and
resonating and demanding respect and attention by its mere tone.  The nine
of them began to speak at once.  "One at a time," he interrupted.  All nine
began to speak again.  "You!" he thundered, pointing at the Warlock as he
was the oldest of them all.
     The Warlock described in a halting and clearly frightened voice how
the four boys had interfered with George's attempt to kidnap their
neighbor, Charles Elwood, slightly more than two years ago, and had
actually subjected the boogeyman to spankings and other humiliations,
including boy rape, and had made him promise to not only protect Chucky,
but to stop kidnaping kids and to release and return those he had kidnaped,
which of course had left the man a total wreck and a total outcast these
past two years.  He went on to explain how they had gone to Earth on
George's behalf on Halloween the month after to seek revenge and to have
the boys cancel the promises they'd forced George to swear to, only to also
be bested by the boys and humiliated and assaulted not only by them, but by
every young kid out Halloweening in the neighborhood.
     "Tell him about your promises," Brett said defiantly.
     "Yeah, tell him," prompted Bobby from behind Brett.  Brett was after
all his older brother and supposed to protect him.
     The warlock did, arguing of course that creating the hole to bring
them down to hell was not the same as going and getting them.
     "That's lame," protested Brett.
     "Yeah," agreed his twin brother.
     "He did not at any time leave hell," Satan responded.  "It is a valid
point."
     "Were you a lawyer or something in Heaven?" asked Bobby.
     "It is a valid point," Satan responded in that tone their father used
to indicate it was the end of the discussion, even when the discussion, in
the opinion of the boys, had not really begun.
     "Oh sure, side with your own why don't you," Benny objected.
     "The Brewster brothers, eh?" Satan said, looking at the four.  "I've
heard of you."
     "You have?" the boys asked together, falling silent as they looked at
each other.
     "The book," Satan said, snapping his fingers, and one of his followers
whom the boys had not even noticed disappeared.
     "You have a book?"
     "Everyone has a book."
     "Uh-oh," Benny responded, looking at his brothers.
     The minion returned with a large leather-bound volume almost two feet
thick, which Satan placed on the minion's back as he bent over for his
master.
     "Whoa, that's some fucking book," Bobby observed.
     "That can't all be just about us," Brent observed hopefully but not
confidently.
     "No," Satan replied as he opened it up.  "But there is a chapter just
for you boys."  The four brothers glanced at each other with wide eyes and
fell silent once more as they turned to watch the Lord of the Underworld.
He turned to the appropriate page and studied it.  "Mmmm," he said, and the
boys glanced at each other with growing concern and the creatures chortled
with glee and hope.  "Well," he said, finally looking up.  "You have had
your evil moments.  Santa particularly has written some very stern words
about your behavior, especially the Christmas of 1998."
     "Santa wrote you a note?"
     "Of course.  We collaborate every December.  The world has gotten much
too populated for us to keep tabs on everyone who has been naughty by
ourselves."
     "Jeez," Benny sighed.
     "No.  He has Saint Peter keeping His books," Satan responded.  "And
besides, we don't correspond."  The boys glanced at each other, their
hearts sinking.  This was not good.  "Still," Satan continued, "despite
your shenanigans and your pranks, and the things you've done to these five,
and the humans on the surface, you've always acted out of goodness."
     "Fu-, fu-, fuck yeah," Bobby responded, wondering if his vocabulary
counted as a sin.
     "You've acted to protect the weaker, and to punish the bullies and
bring the proud and the arrogant down a notch or two."
     "Right!" the boys chorused eagerly.
     "Though usually in punishing them you also saw your own desires were
satisfied."
     "Totally by accident," offered Brett.
     "Yeah, it just happened that way," his brothers agreed in support.
     "But you did do some very nasty things to these five."
     "Self defense."
     "Putting gummy bears on my fangs and making me suck off three dozen
horny teens and preteens?" retorted the young vampire.  "That wasn't self
defense."
     "Changing me to look like a voluptuous big-boobed slut and making me
service three boys at a time?" added the Warlock bitterly.  The boys
twittered at the memory, and even Satan could not prevent the corner of his
lips curling in a smile.
     "Tying me up and getting my backside repeated fucked by a bunch of
horny teenagers?"  growled the werewolf.  Several nearby devils quickly
dropped their hands before their groins to hide the effect that thought had
on them.
     "Having me spanked by young Charles Elwood, and then forcing me to
have sex with all of you?" George whined.
     "Having two little boys shove screwdrivers up my ass, and then their
tiny dicks?"  countered Spook.
     "Weeeelllll," the boys responded.  "Each of you started it."
     "Did not," the five responded
     "Did too," the four retorted.
     "Did ."
     "Stop," Satan said quietly and the nine immediately ceased their
bickering and turned to face him once more.  "I will tell you what," he
said, thinking carefully.  "I'll give you four tasks.  Four challenges.
For each one you succeed in achieving, one of you may return to the
surface.  Those left behind will be left at the whim and pleasure of these
five."
     "What sort of tasks?" asked Brett, he and his brothers having done
plenty of negotiating and the sixteen-year-old being very aware of unspoken
conditions.  He and his brothers had certainly used the unspoken to their
advantage in the past.
     "Yeah, it depends on what sort of tasks," agreed Brent in support, his
brother's courage bolstering his own.
     "I ain't shoveling the crap out of no cow barns," Bobby observed.
     His three brothers, their five protagonists, and Satan all turned and
looked at the twelve- year-old in bewilderment.
     "Hey, that was one of Hercules' challenges," Bobby responded,
recalling his ancient Greek history from grade five.  That one in
particular had caught his attention and at the time he'd wondered how he
could make the school bully, fat Scott Hurd, have to do something like
that.
     "They will be challenges of my choosing, and there will be no
negotiating the terms.  Or I turn you over to these five now."
     "You got one humongous cock," Bobby suddenly observed.  Satan and the
others all looked at him in surprise once again.  His brothers rolled their
eyes.  Sometimes their kid brother could be totally in his own world.  "Bet
you could fuck your own ass with it."
     "I imagine I could, if I so wished," Satan responded, secretly
admiring the twelve-year- old's spunk and, no pun intended, devil-may-care
attitude.
     "If we win all four tests, you gotta do it."
     "Do it?"
     "Fuck yourself."
     Bobby's three brothers, their five protagonists, and all those
watching inhaled deeply and held their breaths, unable to believe what they
had just heard.  Bobby had pretty much just told the Prince of the
Underworld to fuck himself.
     Satan looked at the twelve-year-old incredulously also.  He had
challenged God and His dominions in heaven, he had challenged and tried to
tempt His Son on Earth, and he had millions of demons who would do his
bidding at the snap of his fingers, even die for him, and this kid not even
yet in his teens was making a deal with him!  He chuckled.  The kid did
have spunk.  He chuckled louder.  Why not?  There was no way they'd achieve
one of his challenges, never mind four.  "It's a deal," he said, "but if
you don't, I get to fuck you."
     "Scout's honor," Bobby added, raising his hand.
     "Scout's honor," Satan replied, raising his.
     "All right," Bobby practically shouted, and Satan wondered if maybe
even if the youngster lost, that accepting his punishment really wasn't
seen by the boy as a punishment at all.
     "So what is the first challenge?" Brett asked.
     "On that I will have to think," replied Satan, slowly stroking his
goatee as he began to walk.  The four boys followed him, and no longer
being chased, were able to look about them really for the first time.  Pits
of hot bubbling oil, pits of steaming, boiling water, and small and large
pits of flame that flared up all around them were scattered in all
directions.  There were people being tortured everywhere, some hanging by
their thumbs and being whipped, some being dipped in the pools, some
picking up huge boulders and moving them from one place to another while
devils cracked whips at their naked backsides if they moved too slowly.
Here and there were assorted creatures out of the worse nightmares
imaginable, talking, laughing, and torturing men, women, and even children
of every imaginable race.
     On the slopes of rolling hills in the distance far to the right were
two armies hot in battle.  Even though several miles away, the boys could
hear the cries of pain and agony and the clash of swords, and even from
where they stood they could see men being pierced by arrows and falling to
the ground.  Far to the left on an open plain again several miles away was
another battle being waged by men on horseback, some of them riding in
chariots.  They were also using swords and arrows, and though their
uniforms were different from the men fighting on the right, the scene was
the same as men attacked with death cries and others fell with death
gurgling in their throats.
     "What's going on over there?" asked Benny, his curiosity getting the
best of him as he nodded over to the plain.
     "The Battle of Chalons, in central France, in 451," replied Satan.
"Attila the Hun's worst defeat at the hands of the combined armies of the
Roman general Flavius Aetius and the Visigoth King Theodoric l.  Although
Theodoric was killed on that day, Aetius was victorious and Attila
retreated all the way back across Europe to Hungary.  The barbarian is now
destined to repeat that defeat over and over, living again and again the
humiliation, without the slaughter and looting and savagery that followed
in his revenge as he was driven back across Europe, the savagery and
brutality that characterized his life and condemned him to eternity in
hell.
     And over there," he continued, pointing to the rolling hills to the
right, "is the great Genghis Khan, Temujin, fighting his blood brother,
Jamukha, in the Battle of Khalakhaljit Elet, in which his blood-brother
defeated him for the second time and sent him running to the swamps of
northern Mongolia, a bitter defeat especially after spending ten years in
exile in China after his first defeat by his blood brother.  However," he
said with a satisfied grin, "unlike after his first defeat in which he
boiled seventy of his enemy clan's leaders alive, and unlike after his
second defeat in which he returned a year later to defeat his blood brother
and conquer most of Asia, here he is destined to live his defeat and the
humiliation of retreat only.  Like Attila, his barbaric cruelty has brought
him to me, but he will never again enjoy such sadistic pleasures."
     Satan looked at the one army and then the other as he pondered.
"According to your record you four have dealt with bullies and arrogant and
pompous individuals before.  For your first task, impress me.  Prove to me
your reputation for meting out justice for those who would dominate and
hurt those weaker than themselves.  Design a punishment for these two great
warriors equivalent to the punishment I have chosen for them, and if it is
to my liking, one of you may return to the surface."
     The boys looked at each other, and then at Brett.  As usual, and as
his brothers had hoped, he had an idea.  Taking them aside, he whispered
his plan and they roundly approved, and added a few typical Brewster
refinements.  "Very well, we're ready," the slender, effeminate, blond
youth announced, turning to Satan as he and his brothers broke their
huddle.
  "Bring the two leaders to me."
     Satan smirked as he looked at the sixteen-year-old and then at his
three brothers.  This was going to be like taking candy away from a baby.
There was no way the four could have come up with a plan equal to his so
quickly.  He snapped his fingers and several of his minions immediately
left to do his bidding.  "Would you not like a throne or something to sit
on when you inform these two barbarians of their punishment?"
     "No," replied Brent, not having thought of something like that and
sorry now that he hadn't.  "But a glass of water would be great.  Ice cold
water.  And glasses for my brothers."
     An hour later the minions of Satan returned with the two warrior
leaders.  The pain of centuries of defeat and humiliation was etched into
their faces, dusty and streaked with sweat from the battle, and despite
their fear of the omnipotent demon standing before him, they glared at him
with a hatred that only years of suffering can build up.  The great Genghis
Khan, a short, stocky, heavyset man of thirty-five with swarthy yellow
skin, a large, round head with a broad face, wide flat nose, prominent
cheekbones, and a long, thin, drooping moustache, and with fire in his dark
almond-shaped eyes, a fire renown since the age of nine when he'd been
betrothed, threw back his shoulders proudly.  He was wearing an unwashed
silk blouse under a brocade vest and a calf-length surcoat split at the
sides and gathered in at the waist by a girdle, a fur cape over his
shoulders, and a fur lined cap, unusual and uncomfortable clothing for a
place so hot, but typical of the dress of his time, and comfort of their
guests not being one of the considerations in hell.
     Beside him stood Attila, the King of the Huns, a short,
broad-shouldered, brown-skinned man of about fifty-five, also with a large
head and a swarthy complexion, with small, deep- seated, slanted eyes, a
flat nose, and a few scraggy, greasy-looking hairs in the place of a beard.
He too was uncomfortably dressed, wearing the traditional animal skins of
his time, a conical, rabbit-skin cap rimmed with rabbit fur, a heavy
fur-trimmed cloak over a coarse cotton shirt, and dirty, stained
deer-skinned trousers tucked into heavy boots extending half way up his
calves.  Cleanliness was not a valued attribute in the days of either man,
and the Mongolian warrior actually thought washing his clothing angered the
gods.
     "This boy has orders for you," Satan said simply, gesturing at Brett.
     The two men looked at each other and then at this slender, effeminate
youth with long, flowing hair and dressed in the strangest-looking garb, a
thick cotton shirt, padded pants, and strange black boots made of a smooth
shiny material.  The boy beside him was identical in appearance and dress
except he was in his stocking feet and he had some sort of jewelry hanging
from his ear and stuck in the bridge of his nose.  The two younger boys,
one on each side of the two blonds, were also dressed in this strange garb,
the youngest also in his stocking feet and instead of thick, padded pants,
was wearing a pair of obscenely tight blue trousers.  They all looked weak,
and had they been in their homelands, they would have been bested by
children half their age if they were human.  The blond youth the Lord of
Hell had indicated had to be a sorcerer or a demon child of some sort to be
giving them orders, and the others had to be also, or his servants.
Knowing the vile habits of demons all too well, they could even be the
youth's concubines.
     "Yes," said Brett, inhaling deeply as he summoned up his courage, and
catching a whiff of the two mighty chieftains, sorry that he had.  "You
must be getting terribly bored losing, and losing, and losing, day after
day, and knowing no matter how hard you try, you're just going to be a
loser again tomorrow."
     The men smarted with his words, as Brett knew they would, and they
glared at him.  Back in their time they would have drawn and quartered one
such as him, perhaps after some other elaborate tortures.  One of those
tortures Attila had in mind was being the main entertainment for men who
had a fondness for effeminate young boys, and soldiers who had been away
from their women for too long.
     "So," Brett continued, clearing his throat nervously, "we are going to
give you a chance to be a winner for a change." He wiped his hands on his
snow pants.  "Well, actually, just one of you.  For every winner, there has
to be a loser, doesn't there."  He stated the obvious as a statement, not a
question.  He was not toying with them, though in his nervousness that was
how it was appearing to the two men, and to those watching, including
Satan, who gave no evidence of it, but was impressed with his approach.
The two men glared at him, and even though he knew he was acting with
Satan's permission and was safe, at least as safe as anyone in hell could
be, Brett felt his heart pounding in his chest.
     "How it will work is this," he continued, trying to keep his
composure, "instead of battling your worst enemy, today you will get to
battle a new enemy."  He paused dramatically, or so he thought, but in
reality he was making the two men think even more certainly that this
effeminate child was toying with them.  "Today you will fight each other."
The two warriors glanced at each other.  Although they'd been in hell for
centuries, and had been fighting across the Stygian plain from each other,
neither had really had the opportunity to observe each other.  With
experienced eyes they quickly calculated their chances and assessed the
strengths and weaknesses of the other, and what each saw was a leader as
brutal and as callous as himself.  They looked back at Brett.
     "The winner will be the one who kills or captures the army of the
other, and who in front of the defeated army, will have his way with that
army's leader."  He quickly glanced over at Satan to see his response, but
the Lord of Hell was a master at this game, and if he was pleased or
displeased with Brett's plan, he was not letting on.
     "Have his way?" the older of the men, Attila the Hun, asked.
     "Use him for your sexual pleasure," Brett said, swallowing hard.
     "I will defeat this young pup," Attila snarled, looking over at the
younger Mongolian, "but I will not defile myself by laying with another
man."
     "And I will easily kill this old man," declared Temujin angrily,
Attila being twenty years his senior, "but I will not engage in such an
unmanly act.  Man's greatest good fortune is to chase and defeat his enemy,
seize his total possessions, leave his married women weeping and wailing,
ride his gelding, and use the bodies of his women," he declared.  "Whoever
is guilty of sodomy is to be put to death.  Such was the way of men in my
time."
     "Well, if you don't, then we will call the battle a tie and my
brothers and I will use the two of you," bluffed Brett, thinking quickly on
his feet.  "In front of both armies," he added when the men didn't respond,
and to his disappointment, even that did not elicit a response.  "Now go
prepare for battle.  You will begin in the hour."
     As the two men were lead away to the battle field that had been
selected, a high plateau ideal for the type of battle the two were
accustomed to leading, Satan strolled off to attend to whatever it was the
King of the Underworld had to attend to in hell after warning the boys'
five adversaries to leave them alone, leaving the four boys to themselves.
Brett's brothers crowded around him.
     "Oh maaaaaannnnnn!  You were awesome," observed Benny, looking at his
brother proudly.
     "Oh yeah.  You were wicked brother," agreed Brent, putting his arm
about his twin.
     "Fucking right," agreed Bobby, giving him a big hug around the waist.
     "Awesome?  I was scared shitless," admitted Brett.
     "Aw, com'on.  You were fierce."
     "Really.  I've never been so scared in my life."
     "I couldn't tell," observed Brent, and his brothers quickly agreed
that they couldn't either.
     "You think Satan could?"
     "Naw," Brent said after a moment's thought.  "If I couldn't, he
couldn't.  I know you better than anyone."
     "Yeah, I guess," Brett said, giving his twin a hug.
     "You think they're gonna go through with it?" Benny asked
     "Fight you mean?"
     "Oh, they'll fight," the fourteen-year-old observed.  "They like doing
that.  What I meant was after."
     "Screw?" asked Bobby.
     "Yeah."
     "That I don't know."
     "They'd better," observed Brent.
     "Oh yeah," agreed Benny.  "Cuz I sure the fuck won't be able to fuck
either one of them."
     "Me neither," Bobby added.  "Did you smell them?  I never thought it
possible, but they stink even worse than ."
     "Don't say it," Brent warned.
     Bobby looked up at his older brother with a grin.  "Besides, I never
seen anyone so ugly."
     The four brothers looked at each glumly.  For Bobby not want to fuck
someone they had to be ugly.  Joining Satan an hour later, they watched
floating from a vantage point above the two armies, an experience in
itself.  It was a fierce battle, the two leaders being highly skilled and
their men top fighters.  Temujin employed the basic battle formation used
by the Mongols, a formation that had served him well in life.  Armored
soldiers, both foot and mounted, formed the two front ranks and fought with
sword and lance.  The three rear ranks used bows and javelins and sent out
mounted skirmishers to harass the enemy as the five ranks advanced, in
addition to backing up the front ranks with missile fire.  The Huns also
entered the fight in order of columns, filling the air with discordant
cries to frighten the enemy and their horses.
     Typical to their manner of fighting, the Huns soon broke out of their
columns to fight in no regular order of battle, but rather, being extremely
swift and sudden in their movements, dispersed, rapidly came together again
in loose array to attack, and dispersed again, spreading havoc over the
vast plain.  And so the two armies clashed and hundreds of men fell to the
ground with arrows in their chests and with fatal wounds from sword and
lance.  The Huns tossed nets over their enemy to entangle them and then
sliced into them with their swords.  Each had one minghan, or regiment, of
a thousand men, the Huns deploying their men in units of ten, the Mongols
deploying theirs in larger columns.
      For the first time in over seven hundred years for Temujin, Universal
Prince of the steppes, and for twice as long for Attila, King of the Huns,
each leader had a chance to win a battle, and their men knew it.  For the
first time since arriving in this accursed land of punishment, they had the
opportunity to once again relish the ultimate pleasure of conquering their
foe, and they fought with a zeal and passion of true warriors.  It was a
ferocious battle, each man having his own personal motivation to at last
taste victory, and each leader determined to finally relish the joy of
defeating the enemy.
     The battle waged for hours, neither side willing to submit, and it
waged first in favor of one and then the other.  In the end, it was
Attila's forces who captured the small troupe of men left of Genghis Khan's
force.
     "I will not bend over and submit to you like one of your concubines,"
Temujin spat, holding up his sword defiantly.  "I would die first."
     "My answer to you would be the same were our positions reversed,"
Attila responded.  "But rather I would have you as my concubine, than bend
over for the effeminate boy that has pitted us against each other."
     "Then you will have to pleasure yourself in your perverse sin with my
dead body," Temujin replied, charging forward with his sword raised.
     And so the two men fought, and both being excellent swordsmen, it was
a long battle, each inflicting wounds that would have brought any normal
man down, but neither was about to lay down his weapon before his men, and
neither was willing to accept the ultimate humiliation that Brett had
demanded.  In the end, buoyed by the win of his army, Attila knocked the
sword of the younger man out of reach.
     "Kill me," said the fearless warrior even though even here the pain
would be just as great as when he'd been mortal.
     Attila would have desired the same and willingly raised his sword, but
he found he could not lower it no matter how much he tried.  The two
warriors looked up at the floating platform, and knew that death was not an
option.  The four brothers crossed their fingers and made a silent wish.
Faced with the choice of being used by the boys, or using the man he'd just
defeated, Attila tossed aside his sword and stepping forward he pulled back
the man's stiff brocade tunic and quickly tied it to pin the man's arms
behind him.  Spinning him around and tossing him to the ground on his
stomach, the old warrior quickly grabbed and pulled off his victim's thick
felt boots, and cutting the cord holding up his coarse hemp cloth trousers,
he yanked them down and pulled them off, and his filthy under garment, a
diaper like linen wrapped about his waist and between his legs.
     Placing a booted foot against his back as the Mongolian tried to get
up, the Hun quickly unfastened the rope holding up his deerskin trousers.
Unlacing and yanking off his boots, he quickly stepped out of his trousers
and ripped off his loin cloth to revealed a hairy and generous endowment.
Tossing himself upon the back of his adversary to knock the wind out of
him, the Hun began to gyrate his hips, working his limp organ against the
man's backside in a desperate attempt to arouse himself.
     The Khan's Mongol warriors cursed him, calling him every foul epithet
they knew in derision, and it was only the sharp swords of his own men that
kept them from defending their leader.  Attila knew the disgust that was in
their hearts, and he knew in the hearts of the real men of his own forces,
for he felt the same way about what he was doing.  Grinding his hips
against the backside of the Mongol, he felt no pleasure as he would have
had this been the woman of his enemy.
     Despite his aversion, he knew he had no choice, and it had been almost
seventeen hundred years since he'd had sex.  The heat of the Khan's
backside, the friction as he rubbed his cock against the man's rough skin,
the memories of the delight of having a horn, and his determination to
bring this to an end all worked together to result in his first erection in
centuries.  Raising his body, he reached down and placed the tip of his
swollen flesh against the butthole of his adversary.  Gritting his teeth,
he thrust forward, driving his firm organ against the resisting but softer
flesh.  The firm knob wedged in the Mongol's asshole, and he pressed
forward with more force, driving his cock in a bit further.  He inhaled
deeply and pressed forward a third time, and was rewarded with the yielding
of the resisting flesh.  Grimacing with the pain of entering the tight and
resisting hole, he drove onward, succeeding in driving his shaft up the
man's rectum.
     Temujin lay there on his stomach suffering the final humiliation.
Being defeated by the barbaric forces had been bad enough, the defeat being
all the more bitter knowing that for this one time he'd had a chance to
win, but being mounted by this barbaric savage, in front of his own men,
was a humiliation he could not bear, and he avowed that when he got to his
feet he would grab the nearest sword and run himself in, as was the only
honorable thing left to do.  As he felt the man above him slowly draw back
and his cock ease back out of his asshole, he closed his eyes and accepted
his defeat.
     The Brewster boys looked down at the scene with keen interest.  They'd
seen men engaged in anal intercourse before, but even for them it was a
rare experience, and seeing two of the greatest and cruelest conquerors of
all time going at it was not something they ever expected to see again.
The short, square-bodied, fifty-five-year-old Hun, his deerskin trousers
about his ankles, thrust his hips to and fro savagely, attacking the man
under him with the same savagery and ferocity as he'd attacked in battle.
His small, deep-seated, slanted eyes blazed with anger and pride as he
furiously fucked his hapless victim, his weathered, brown skin contrasting
with the swarthy yellow skin of his enemy.  He was angry with the
effeminate boy who had demanded he perform this foulest of acts, he was
angry being forced to debase himself, and he was angry that he was in this
accursed afterlife.  He thrust his hips forward with that anger, taking it
out on the man beneath him.
     The great Khan lay there motionlessly, but the boys could see the
anger and the humiliation in his dark almond-shaped eyes.  Although only
thirty-five, he looked older, his leathery skin weathered by the elements
despite being smeared with grease for protection.  His cap had been knocked
off, revealing a shaved head except for a piece of straight black hair on
the sides of his head braided and looped up behind his ears.  He glared at
the ground before his nose as he felt the accursed Hun using him, using him
as he would use his wife had the Hun defeated him back in his time.  As he
felt the man's organ pumping in and out of his body, he set his face and
imagined the joy he'd have slicing off the organ that was being used to
defile him if he only had the chance.
     As the pleasure rippling through the knob of his aroused and aching
cock grew stronger, Attila forgot his aversion and began to thrust his hips
to and fro with a greater eagerness.  Closing his eyes, he imagined the
short, stocky, heavyset man beneath him to be a woman, one of the virgin
daughters of an enemy just conquered, and the hot, moist channel gripping
his throbbing cock to be a virgin cunt, not the virgin rectum of his enemy.
As his dick knob itched and sent ripples of arousal down the shaft, he
concentrated on that pleasure.  It had been so long since he'd felt that
joy it was not possible to deny the pleasure he was feeling.  And why
shouldn't he? Why shouldn't he enjoy the humiliation and abuse of the enemy
he'd just defeated?  Why should he pass up the one opportunity to once
again feel like a man?
     Temujin, meanwhile, could not deny the burning arousal of his tight
sphincter, nor the pleasure pulsating through his rectum, and especially
the fact that the pumping of the man's cock in and out of his rectum had
sent spasms of a new and unknown pleasure from a spot beside his rectum to
his dick, causing it to become erect.  It was the first erection he'd had
in seven hundred years, and the first time he'd felt pleasure in that time,
and despite the perverse act causing it, he allowed the pleasure to sweep
through his body and his mind.  If he had to subject himself to the
barbarian, then why not at least enjoy the physical pleasure and the first
erection he'd had since arriving in this accursed place.
     As the two men approached their peak of ecstasy, they grunted and
snorted with the pleasure that had taken over their minds, sounding like
two rutting pigs.  Their heavy shirts became drenched with sweat as it
trickled down from their armpits.  Perspiration ran down their foreheads
and cheeks and down their ribs, leaving paths in the grime and dust coating
their unwashed bodies.  Their breathing became heavy and labored, and they
forgot about their troops watching them and the audience above as they
panted and grunted in their perverse pleasure.  It had been centuries since
either one had felt the pleasure of sex, and that throbbing arousal blocked
out all other thoughts.  Attila thrust his hips to and fro as if attacking
the man below him, running him in with his fleshy sword.  He closed his
eyes and concentrated on the pleasure rippling through his erect cock.
Temujin closed his eyes also as he concentrated on the unique pleasure
throbbing deep in his body and on the stimulating burning of his sphincter.
     As he felt his seed spring from his loins, Attila thrust his sword of
flesh in and out his enemy with a final burst of desire, and as he felt his
own seed begin to boil deep in his loins, Temujin raised his hips and
thrust them forward and back in an uncontrollable fit of desire.  As the
great King of the Huns trembled and shot his seed deep up the swarthy
yellow-skinned ass of his newly conquered enemy, the great Khan, the
Warrior of Warriors, trembled and shot his own seed, spraying the earth and
his hairy stomach.  Their stiff, aching cocks, one yellow and the other
brown, throbbed out their cum and the men snorted and grunted as their
bodies trembled with the ecstasy of climax.
     The two great conquerors finally collapsed and lay there, the King of
the Huns still deeply embedded in the Great Khan, until finally Attila's
dick softened and he raised himself.  As Attila stood, Temujin also got to
his feet, and the two men, totally ashamed and defiled, drew up their
trousers.  They could not look at each other, the rapist and the one who'd
been raped feeling equally defiled.  Considering the joy they'd felt in
those final moments, the two great leaders had great difficulty even
looking at themselves.
     Brett and his brothers slowly turned to look at Satan.  He was staring
at the two men in surprise at what had happened, and in surprise at the
passion with which they'd executed the blond youth's command.  He slowly
looked at the four boys.
     "A fine punishment," the Evil One admitted.  "Most deserving, and
entertaining."  The boys began to grin.  "But," he continued, and their
countenances dropped.  "But it is over.  It was great while it lasted, but
here in hell we have an eternity to live.  And in that, it cannot compare
to their original punishment."
     "But it is not over," replied Brett.  Satan looked at him, waiting for
an explanation.  "This was only the first battle, not the only battle,"
Brett continued.  "I am sure the great Genghis Khan would want a chance to
redeem himself, as would his army, which I assume can be resurrected to
fight again just as has been happening for decades.  In fact I'm sure they
would fight even harder now that they have had one defeat, and I'm sure the
Great Khan would fight even more ferociously than he just did with the hope
of being able to do what has just been done to him."
     Brett looked down at the defeated Mongolian leader, and he knew from
the fire in the man's eyes that he was right.  He may have felt in the past
that those who commit sodomy should be put to death, and he might even
still feel that way, but he'd just been raped and used as a woman before
his men, and the chance to redeem himself and avenge the assault by doing
the same to the barbarian who'd just ridden him overrode any laws of the
land.  He was, after all, the law maker.
     "And," Brett continued, "I'm sure having tasted victory once, the
troops under Attila will also fight all the harder the second time in the
hopes of achieving a second victory, especially those who were killed the
first time and denied the final pleasure of triumph.  And," he said with a
slight smile, "I'm sure that Attila will fight all the harder also knowing
that his adversary now has an additional grudge."  The sixteen-year-old had
enough experience to know from the look in Satan's eyes that he'd won the
argument, and he waited to let him think on it before continuing.  "You
see, the beauty of our plan is that instead of knowing they are going to
lose each time they fight, neither leader knows who will be the winner,
which will make them fight all the more ferociously, and will make their
loss all the more painful.  And given the skills of the two men, I'd wager
that the battles will be evenly matched so that each one will be the winner
as often as the loser over time."
     Satan looked at the boy, and slowly grinned.  "I will not bet with a
Brewster," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.  "But I will acknowledge you
have accomplished the task I set before you.  I am impressed, and it is a
punishment as fitting as the original.  So now you must make a decision.
As the one who conceived this punishment and succeeded in meeting my first
challenge, are you the one to return to the surface, or will you choose one
of your brothers to be saved?"

                          ************

What a dilemma for a sixteen-year-old boy, even for one who can think on
his feet like Brett.  How cruel to taste the sweetness of success only to
have the sourness of having to make such a choice.  What will he do?  Will
he save himself, or select one of his brothers to send back to the security
of the surface, and if the latter, which brother?  What for Part Three of
this exciting adventure next week.