From: hazemaster@aol.com (HazeMaster)
Subject: "Boyhood's End," HazeMaster's New Series (M/M)
Date: 17 Aug 1996 11:46:12 -0400

	Jump-start the Fall Season with HazeMaster!

	"Boyhood's End" continues the adventure saga introduced by "Men of
Antarctica".

	Find all the episodes on HazeMaster's Home Page:

	http://home.navisoft.com/bbbmedia

	And look for HazeMaster in issue #2 of Eagle magazine, on
newsstands soon.


				BOYHOOD'S END,
				Episode #1,
			by HazeMaster@aol.com

	"My people dwelled within the Mona Maternesse, outlands Hermanutas
classified Grossengaluten.  Green daystars warmed our planets season after
season, melting our mountain glaciers so our rich soil yielded bountiful
harvests."

	The Noble Warrior Kare'enyi Na'aklyi spun stories in a wood gazebo
in the gardens of the Healing Sisters.  Crimson grapes hung from vines
coiling the wooden treliswork.  Purple zhvashingo blossoms perfumed the
warm air with their fragrance.  Inter-galactic bees buzz buzzed from
flower to flower.

	Late afternoon light slanted through the latticework, gilding a
random face or arm or neck or shoulder.  The orphans sat crosslegged,
silent, listening.  Duke wrapped his arm around Borsa.  Young Na'achum
sprawled across their laps.  Garbed in a wide brimmed, ribboned hat and
paisley smock, Marine Corps Master Sergeant Schnuffler wound the bright
flowers in his lap into a festive garland.

	Kare'enyi Na'aklyi sat upon a wicker chair.  The Noble Warrior's
raspy whisper held his listeners as snares set by the hunters of
MNRamnzomn seize small game which lures larger beasts to the killing pits.

	"Countless millennia ago, before conquering Hermanutas 'civilized'
the Forty-Nine Hypostic Galaxies, Vhe'erstarken flourished in Mona
Maternesse.  Huge great horned rams walking upright on cloven hooves,
Vhe'erstarken belonged neither to tribes of men nor beasts nor spirits,
but partook aspects of all three species.

	"During the Antique Aeons copulation thrived between Vhe'erstarken
and our Ancestors.  On warm spring nights Vhe'erstarken descended from the
glacier covered mountainsides and rolled within the new ploughed furrows.
Vhe'erstarken bellowed at the bright blue moon.  Our Ancestors rushed from
their huts and flung themselves upon the roaring Vhe'erstarken.  Planting
fields trembled with perfervid couplings.  Today our people carry this
commingled seed with pride from generation unto generation.

	"The Hermanutas boast of their 'pure seed', and mocked outlanders,
calling us Triefenfolken.  But Lykanthines descend from Grossenloewen, the
fearsome great maned predators of the Zhavannahs.  Lykanthines, allying
with SZoids and Krugkopfs, resisted Hermanuta domination, refusing to be
subdued.  At length the Hermanutas called a truce, 'legitimizing'
Grossenloewen spawn."

	Kare'enyi Na'aklyi wore baggy fatigues and a rust colored tunic
without decoration.  Blue veins stood out beneath his pale translucent
skin.  Sparse white hair thatched the Noble Warrior's skull.  A white
scraggly beard grizzled his jaw.

	The raspy voice continued almost in a whisper.

	"During the Second Drodai'ic War, farmers from Mona Maternesse
enlisted in the Ma'asatt Flotilla.  With Lord Koqp'doq's defeat, our
victorious heros returned home, and my triumphant father sired me in the
ancient way.

	"A rustic youth, I never learned to read or write.  Grandfather's
stories of Vhe'erstarken exploits served as my entertainment and
enlightenment.  My father taught me how to till the fields and plant new
seed.  My father taught me how to pump water and dig ditches.  My father
taught me how to harvest home the crops and bale the sheaves stored in the
granaries.  And when my time was ripe, my father took me in the fresh
ploughed furrows, teaching his son to share his Triefenfolken seed with
boys and men on Mona Maternesse.

	"Farm boys develop large, strong muscles toiling in fields from
dawn to dusk.  During the mid-day heat we took our ease beside the
irrigation ditches.  We drank cider and ate our lunch of bread and cheese.
 But farm boys overflow with energy, and even in our rest could not keep
still.  Our crews devised daily contests of every sort.

	"After our meal each boy would arch his piss to span the broad
canals.  The boys who failed the goal would squat down in the ditch while
all the marksmen fired their steamy streams upon the losers."

	Marine Corps Private Vinnie Borsa's cock hardened, stirring within
his trousers.

	"Our largest, boldest boys harnessed themselves ploughs, issuing
challenges to race the fields' perimeters.  Whoever completed the greatest
laps bearing the greatest load upon his back, the judges crowned the
winner.  Each looser had to kneel in submission and with his lips extract
the victor's Triefenfolken seed--one creamy load for every lap the
champion had surpassed him.

	"Such were our lunchtime recreations.  But we farm boys reserved
our fiercest contests for the end of day.  Before returning to the wash
house, we shucked off our sweat drenched coveralls and wrestled naked in
the loamy furrows.

	"To toil beside your father in the fields bestowed honor and
dignity upon maturing lads.  To work in crews with menfolk conveyed
further acclamation.  Likewise the wrestling competitions mounted in
prestige as farm hands increased bulk, agility, and skill.

	"For new fuzzed boys, with lithe bodies and different timbred
voices every week, wrestling remained a childhood lark, entertainment
performed for their elders' amusement.

	"But Nature and our labors day by day transformed us: manhood
erupted in between our thighs, overwhelming our sleepless nights; our
voices deepened and our height increased; thick hairs sprouted upon our
groins and in our armpits, matting our chests, bearding our jaws, furring
our arms and legs and buttocks; our shoulders broadened and our pectorals
expanded; the sinews in our arms and legs grew bulked and cut.  And we
stood primed for Manhood's competitions.

	"Wrestling in the loamy furrows signaled a growing boy's
acceptance of his manhood.  The rights, the burdens, and the privileges. 
Even now, many decades later, I remember the anticipation.  Energy surging
through my body. My dry mouth, pounding heart, and knotted guts. 
Childhood had reached an end the responsibilities of manhood beckoned."

	Beneath his paisley dress Marine Corps Master Sergeant
Schnuffler's hardon throbbed and twitched.

	Cool breezes blew in from the hills as shadows lengthened on the
vineyards.  The voices of returning workers overspilled the garden walls. 
Smoke from the kitchens bore the scents of highly seasoned roasting meats.
 Birds circled overhead calling to one another in varieties of pitch and
scale.

	"We wrestlers greased our comrades' naked bodies with warm, slick
machine oil.  Even in competition we remained companions, comrades.  We
leaned against our partner's backs or wrapped our legs around our cohort's
waists, stretching each others tightened sinews.

	"At length the whistle blew to signal that the games began.

	"Judges assigned each furrow to a different weight class.  Judges
drew slugs out of a leather pouch.  Two wrestlers saw their tokens raised,
and the pair leapt into their furrow.

	"The roaring of the men still thunders in my ears today.  My
workday mind shut down.  The memories embedded in my muscles took control.
 I spun about my adversary, prowling for a hold.  We grappled.  Struggled.
 Somersaulted.  Sweat drenched my mud caulked torso and my breath hammered
my chest.

	"I shot between his legs, knocking the farm boy on his back.  I
pinned his shoulders to the ground.  The men bawled out the count.  At
"12" I locked the farm boy's feet about my neck and raised his legs into
the air.  The crowd clamored for ploughing, and I rammed my drooling,
stiffened farm tool up the vanquished wrestler's quivering, grease slicked
road to glory.

	"The wide green daystar sank below the distant mountaintops.  The
bright blue moon ascended from the silent seas.  My sperm was planted deep
within my comrade's loins.  During the season of the misty rains, farm
boys would drop their offerings in the fresh ploughed soil.  Ewes rooting
in the soil would swallow up the seed and incubate the pod.  And in the
proper time my eldest son was born on Mona Maternesse."

	A metal gong reverberated in the darkening air.

	Kare'enyi Na'aklyi rose and gripped his staff.

	The orphans followed the old warrior to dinner.


				BOYHOOD'S END,
				Episode #2,
			by HazeMaster@aol.com

	"The seasons passed.  My body grew into the fullness of manhood. 
Time after time I triumphed in the wrestling competitions, siring four
strong sons."

	Within the trellised vineyards, Noble Warrior Kare'enyi Na'aklyi
continued his narration.

	"During the harvest season men elected me to lead a crew of
scythers.  After we thrashed and baled the crops, recruiters from Masa'att
Academy descended on the Mona Maternesse.  Never before had our boys
beheld Hermanutas.  Their smooth skinned beauty puzzled lads accustomed to
our husky, rough hewn men.

	"Lieutenant Commander Antemodes Ahrkantepodes addressed the
assembly.  I feared my heart would choke my throat.  The broad shouldered,
wide chested officer's confidence overwhelmed me.  His square jawed
self-assurance drew the breath out of my lungs.  His wide spread stance
bespoke a potent manliness that I dared only fantasize.

	"The Hermanuta towered over any farmer on Mona Maternesse. 
Iridescent golden red hair spilled down his back.  A thick red golden
beard rested upon his barrel chest, and his mustaches turned upward in
fearsome prongs.

	"Antemodes Ahrkantepodes orated in a deep, baritone voice.  Blood
pounding in my head befuddled the sense of his words.  Snippets and
snatches pierced my understanding as I gaped in wonder at the straight
backed officer so sumptuously filling his midnight blue uniform.

	"'A lifetime mission dedicated to the highest service . . . .
testing your courage and endurance, pressing your strength and
perseverance to the utmost levels . . . . acknowledging inner reserves of
fortitude . . . . confronting challenges, innovating successful strategies
. . . . striving always to surpass your personal best . . . . pursuing
ever bolder goals with ever braver plans . . . . and always serving,
serving, serving, serving . . . . '

	"My head spun as I heard those words.  Yes, I would serve
Lieutenant Commander Antemodes Ahrkantepodes.  I would prostrate myself
before the cockmeat bulging from his snug fit uniform.  I would succeed in
every quest.  I would serve as equerry to Lieutenant Commander Antemodes
Ahrkantepodes, swelling his heart with pride for his brave, strong
fuckboy.

	"And this bold officer would plough me with his hard, thick
manmeat, plough me, fill me, fuck me, ram his cockshaft up my road to
glory till he seared my prostate, flooding me with his steaming manseed
while my glory hole exploded as I swooned into the black hole of the
altiverse bursting with the Lieutenant Commander's hot manfuck."

	Duke the astronomer and Marine Private Vinnie Borsa wrapped their
arms about each other.  United States Marine Corps Master Sergeant
Schnuffler stroked his drooling cock beneath his paisley sun dress.

	The Noble Warrior Kare'enyi Na'aklyi's narrative continued.

	"Masa'att recruiters examined the Mona Maternesse farm boys.  We
knew no maiden modesty, and paid no mind to hands that measured, weighed,
pinched, poked, and probed our naked flesh.

	"Out of 180 boys examined, recruiting sergeants marched 70 chosen
ones to a woodshed which they constructed just beyond the planting fields.
 We waited, standing naked, on the grassy knoll outside the shack, while
the recruiters called the boys, one at a time, inside.  Screams, shrieks,
and sobbing sounded from within.  A dozen farm boys slipped away before
the Hermanutas mispronounced their names.  But I stood firm, knowing that
I could surmount any harsh ordeal, proving my worthiness to serve
Lieutenant Commander Antemodes Ahrkantepodes.

	"At last a sergeant bawled my name and pointed to a heavy canvas
curtain.  I entered a windowless, white walled cubicle.  Four Hermanutas
wearing long white smocks held clipboards by their sides.

	"Two recruiters hoisted me on a metal platform suspended by
crossbars from the ceiling.  Markers indicated where I must place my feet.
 The sergeants pointed upward and I saw markers on the ceiling for my
hands.  Without the men speaking a word, I knew I must not move my hands
or feet off these markers.

	"After I balanced myself comfortably, the Hermanutas shaved my
pectorals, then swabbed my chest with cold, stinging astringents.  The
foreigners screwed sharp clawed metal clamps to my nipples, threading a
silver chain between each vise, pulling it taut and hanging metal weights
along the tether's length.  Pain burned fiercely.  I gnashed  my teeth,
but did not sob aloud.

	"Before I understood the purpose of their tools, the recruiters
inserted a long rubber hose into my glory hole, irrigating the insides of
my butt with freezing cold water.  Never had any man on Mona Maternesse
been so rudely douched.  But through the gross humiliation I stood firm
and did  not cry or flinch.

	"After the Hermanutas purged my guts, they shaved my asscrack,
butt, and ballsack with a sharp straight razor.  The sergeants slathered
up my shaven slit and glory hole with slimy jelly squeezed from a white
tube.

	"The strangers unwrapped a thick piece of black Zharquoya wood
carved like a cock, but ribbed along its lengthy shaft.  I gasped and
clenched my butt.  The sergeants spread my shaven asscheeks wide, sliding
the artificial manmeat deep within my road to glory.  I yearned for
Lieutenant Commander Antemodes Ahrkantepodes' massive tool to occupy my
hole.  Whatever shame I must endure to gain that goal, I would not shirk
the test.

	"One Hermanuta turned the wooden shaft within my butt as if it
were a winch.  Another sergeant flicked my armpits with Aquilla plumes.  A
third Masa'att recruiter stroked my shaven ballsack with a soft suede
glove.  The fourth alien tugged the weights suspended from the silver
chain linking the sharp clawed tit clamps.

	"Never had any man on Mona Maternesse been so publicly mortified
by smooth skinned strangers from another galaxy.  I shut my eyes as the
room gyred about.  I longed to serve as equerry to Antemodes
Ahrkantepodes.  I longed to prove my worth to honor his enormous cockshaft
with my lips and tongue.

	"Pain seared my nipples.  My body quivered from the torments to my
prostate, balls, and armpits.  My purple cockmeat throbbed, threatening to
explode before these foreigners from 'civilized' galaxies.

	"Shame!  Torment!  Pain!  Humiliation!

	"A simple farm boy from the Mona Maternesse, my body quivered,
trembled, shook with spasms.  But hands and feet not move from their
markers for fear of never serving Antemodes Ahrkantepodes . . . .

	"The wooden cockshaft screwed my butt hole.

	"Aquilla feathers tickled tortured both my armpits.

	"Metal clamps chewed my nipples.

	"Soft suede gloves stroked my shaven ballsack.

	". . . my nipples burned, my head spun, my legs quaked, my
prostate pulsed, my cockmeat shot and shot and shot and shot geysers of
thick hot joy juice splattering the doctors' clean white smocks till I
tumbled into an exhausted sleep dreaming of Lieutenant Commander Antemodes
Ahrkantepodes."


				BOYHOOD'S END,
				Episode #3,
			by HazeMaster@aol.com

	"The Hermanutas summoned seventy Mona Maternesse farm boys to
their examination shed.  A hovercraft carried just twenty nervous lads to
the far side of our planet, beyond high mountain ranges none of us ever
dared explore."

	Kare'enyi Na'aklyi resumed his narration in a raspy whisper.

	"The sergeants deposited us, naked and unarmed, in a clearing
surrounded by wooded hills.  The ship ascended, disappearing in the sky. 
The daystar sank beneath the tangled branches of the tall, old trees. 
Chill breezes fell upon us and we all knew fear.

	"Great distance sundered twenty would be midshipmen from our  warm
bunkhouse.  Never had we been separated from our comrades.  Never had we
hiked more than five days out from our familiar compound.  This prelude to
our future as Masa'att midshipmen cowed and disheartened us.

	"But visions of Antemodes Ahrkantepodes warmed my blood.  I vowed
to win his favor with my strength and courage.  To kneel before his
monumental cockmeat, worshipping his awesome maleness.  To take his
swollen shaft into my mouth and, slurping up his jism, thus absorb the
mysteries of the Lieutenant Commander's proud manhood.

	"We farm boys huddled in the clearing's center.  The woods around
us loomed dark and impenetrable.  The breezes rustled the dense branches
of the thick trunked trees.  Strange, unseen nightbirds 'koo koo'd' to
each another in the darkness.  Night beasts prowled through the
undergrowth and--

	"'YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!'

	"A mutant sprang into the clearing, huge, hideous, and roaring
loudly.  Red eyes burned in its bloodied face.  Long arms with sharp
clawed paws flailed at us farm boys.  A pink tongue lolled from open jaws
between the monster's jagged fangs.

	"'YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!'

	"Boys shrieked, tearing pell mell into the woods.  A moist hand
grabbed my wrist, clutching me tightly as we ran.  No light penetrated the
forest.  We heard small birds scatter before us, dodged the low hanging
boughs that threatened to decapitate us.  Leaping over gnarled roots and
fallen tree trunks--

	"'WHOOOOOOOOOOPPSSSSAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!'

	"--we landed on a hunter's trap and tumbled down into a deep,
malodorous pit.  Seasons of rain filled the pocket with fetid water rising
almost to our nipples.  Snared prey had left their droppings, starved to
death, and decomposed.  Thousands of flies buzzed round the putrefied
corpses.  The stench overwhelmed us.  We barfed until our guts emptied
completely out.

	"No, this repugnant bight would never be the final destination on
our voyage through the night.  I meant to attain greater goals before my
journey's end.

	"Slippery shit and mud coated the pit's deep sides.  The flies
tormented us, biting our exposed skin and drawing blood.

	"I hoisted up my younger, smaller, lighter partner to my
shoulders.  Reaching up to the forest floor, his fingers found a long,
thick, fallen limb and hauled it down into the hunter's snare.  We pounded
the bough in the mucky sediment beneath the rancid waters.  The branch
rose just beyond the cesspool's upper lip.  I steadied our escape route
and my partner scampered up hand over hand.  Because of my heavier bulk, I
shimmied up the rough bark with the limb between my thighs.

	"Our old familiar moon now floated high above the trees, flooding
the forest with its bright blue light.  I recognized my comrade as
A'arnstyi A'ariolyi from a neighboring village.

	"Sucking leaches coated our legs.  Shit and decaying vegetation
smeared our torsos.  The moonlight showed a broad path through the woods. 
Trees now appeared as distinct shapes and did not threaten us like
phantoms out of childhood nightmares.  Following the trail, we heard the
sounds of rushing waters in the distance.  A five mile trek led us to
cataracts tumbling down a rift in the stone face till they cascaded into a
deep pool.

	"At once we dove into the cleansing waters.  The chilling tarn
invigorated and refreshed our bodies. A'arnstyi A'ariolyi and I scoured
each other clean with smooth round stones.  We swam out to a tortoise
shell shaped boulder rising from the loch's midpoint.  Abetted by bright
moonlight, we plucked leaches from each other's legs till we were freed of
scavenging bloodsuckers.

	"We sprawled upon the broad, high rock, watching each other's
shafts grow tall and firm beneath the moonlight. A'arnstyi A'ariolyi
pinched my cockhead--the Mona Maternesse challenge to a wrestling match!

	"At once the younger, lighter boy pivoted up and mounted me,
taking advantage of his speed and grace. A'arnstyi A'ariolyi grabbed me in
a headlock--until I seized his leg and flung him on his back.  We
grappled, rolled across the slippery moss, fought close and tight,
smelling each other's breath and crotch and armpits. A'arnstyi A'ariolyi's
legs slid out from under him.  I pinned the rascal's shoulder's to the
rock.

	"I thrust my tongue inside my captive's mouth, forcing my
vanquished foe to stretch his jaws while my swift, flicking tongue
explored the hidden corners of his throat.  My teeth nipped A'arnstyi
A'ariolyi's ears and neck, his hard brown nipples and his fulsome
ballsack.

	"Suddenly, A'arnstyi A'ariolyi shot between my legs, hurling me on
my back, throwing his weight on top of me, knocking the wind out of my
chest.  The youngster pinned my shoulders to the rock and won the second
match.  Impudent knave, he dared to thrust three fingers up my glory hole.

	"I writhed upon the rock, moaning like Vhe'erstarken beneath the
spring moon.  Slowly A'arnstyi A'ariolyi's slid five fingers up my road to
glory.  I cried out like a boy the first night that he sleeps within the
House of Men.  Completely overwhelmed, I forfeited every advantage of my
height and bulk--and vowed that this brash youth would pay for my
ensnarement.

	"We each knew the next match would be the last, and that the
victor would master the vanquished now and ever more, whether on Mona
Maternesse or brave new galaxies our Destiny would lead us towards.

	"As vanquished wrestler, I assumed a position on my hands and
knees.  A'arnstyi A'ariolyi slapped my butt as if I were his pussy boy. 
He thrust his rump before my eyes and blew a fart into my face.  The
reckless youth blasted my honor, daring me to redeem myself.  Our shafts
stiffened, our cockheads dripped, knowing that from this round one final
victor must emerge.

	"A'arnstyi A'ariolyi grabbed me in a headlock.  I dropped down on
my belly.  He scissored me between his legs.  Rolling on my back, I arched
up, flung A'arnstyi A'ariolyi off, and sprang away.

	"Seizing the offensive, I shot between the rascal's legs and
brought him down.  I hurled my weight upon A'arnstyi A'ariolyi till my
body pressed him to the mossy rock.  Mansweat poured down our sides,
adhering us to one another.  I shoved A'arnstyi A'ariolyi face into my
left armpit, forcing the youth to slurp my sweat before I gained the
rightful victory.  I flung his legs into the air and locked his ankles
round my shoulders.

	"A'arnstyi A'ariolyi bellowed as I fired manpiss into his purple
face.  The golden shower soaked his hair, his pits, his chest, his
abdomen, his crotch.  I pinned his shoulders to the rock--and jammed my
engorged shaft into his hole of shame.

	"A'arnstyi A'ariolyi clenched his sphincters tight to lock me out.
 I punched his ballsack hard.  A'arnstyi A'ariolyi howled.  Thrusting my
hips, I rammed my throbbing cockshaft up the young knave's road to glory.

	"Slowly I drew my cockshaft out until only the swollen head
remained inside my vanquished foe.  And then I ploughed the shaft back in,
slamming the sobbing youngster's prostate.  I showed no mercy to the
conquered knave, sliding my manmeat in and out until he panted like a
Hermanuta woman taken on her bridal night.

	"At last I fired my rod, filling A'arnstyi A'ariolyi with my
scalding manfuck.  My shaft exploded into him, swelling his innards with
my viscid jism.

	"Before I gave my captive his release, I pushed my purple dick
into his throat, forcing the gasping knave to lick my manmeat clean.  And
then I spread my cheeks and pressed my glory hole against A'arnstyi
A'ariolyi's lips.  The rascal's moist, pink pussy tongue scoured my butt
hole squeaky clean, affirming with his willing service that he was my boy
and he belonged to me forevermore."

	"We found a cave high in the rock behind the cataract.  The lad
gathered dry dead wood from the forest floor.  In the moonlight I searched
the cave for flint, and striking stones together generated sparks to set
the wood ablaze.  A'arnstyi A'ariolyi piled the cave with ferns, creating
a futon, and snuggled in my arms before the fire.

	"A'arnstyi A'ariolyi sucked my toes, confessing that he burned for
me to take him as my boy.  Too well I knew the tricks of lusty knaves. 
What deceits would I stoop to in seducing Lieutenant Commander Antemodes
Ahrkantepodes?  As always in all galaxies, the 'boy' pursues the 'Man'
until the 'Master' has captured his 'quarry.'

	"Midnight confessions and tall tales ensued, the one commingling
with the other to weave 'fact' and 'fantasy' from common cloth.  The fire
burned low and we dozed in each others arms, dreaming of bold adventures
yet to cum, slumber foretelling brave careers in the Masa'att--

	"WRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

	"Startled, we leapt awake.

	"A monstrous Ng'mnon trespassed into our abode.

	"WRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

	"A'arnstyi A'ariolyi screamed, hiding his head beneath his arms.

	"Standing erect, the Ng'mnon towered over any Mona Maternesse man.
 Long fur spackled with dripping blood matted the beast's torso and limbs.
 The creature's six arms terminated in enormous sharp clawed, bloodied
paws.  The fiend's head sprouted pointed ears, curved horns, and three red
blazing eyes.  Scars slashed the Ng'mnon's head and body.  A hefty tongue
lolled from the monster's gaping mouth, while large fangs pierced with
bleeding flesh arched from the creature's top and bottom jaws.

	"Rising from a pendulous, eight-sacked scrotum, the beast's
sixteen inch blood smeared cockshaft stood erect and drooling.

	"WRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

	"A'arnstyi A'ariolyi shrieked, shitting his guts out in the cave's
far corner.

	"Wrapping my hands in the moist ferns, I seized the thickest
branch smoldering in the campfire.

	"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

	"Bellowing like a Vhe'erstarken, I charged wielding the burning
limb.

	"The fiend leapt back, seizing the bough and--

	"WRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

	"--howled as hot ash seared his paws.

	"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

	"I charged again.  This time the monster snapped the branch in two
before the embers singed his flesh.

	"WRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

	"Roaring, the nightbeast rushed me, saliva gushing from his
gnashing jaws!

	"YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

	"A'arnstyi A'ariolyi sprang forward.  Like an athlete at
Zhordiah's Victory Games, he hurled a glowing bough into the Ng'mnon's
middle eye.

	"WRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

	"The beast howled, charging at us with six arms flailing like
windmills on the Cha'aztroz rice fields.

	"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

	"My boy and I jeered back at him, rushing the creature with fresh,
flaming limbs.

	"WRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

	"Searing the monster's leathery nipples with our brands, drove him
backwards from our nest.

	"The nightfiend staggered, screaming, as his long fur smoldered
into glowing strands, and stumbling ever backwards did not notice that the
cave's mouth yawned--

	"WRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

	"The Ng'mnon lost his footing on the slippery stones, tumbling
backwards into the cascade.  His carcass splashed into the pool below,
sinking without a trace beneath the cold, dark, silent waters.

	"'Well little lad, you've proved yourself to be a manly man!'

	"I shoved A'arnstyi A'ariolyi underneath the cataract.  I scoured
his shit clogged butt hole with a pumice stone, fucking the rascal three
times as we stood beneath the pounding waters.

	"Then we returned to bed and slumbered dreamless till the break of
day."

				*****	

	"We awoke to the songs of unseen birds.

	"I fucked A'arnstyi A'ariolyi in our cum drenched nest of ferns. 
We swam ten laps around the forest pool.  I fucked A'arnstyi A'ariolyi
twice more as we lay upon the rocks to dry beneath our warm, green
daystar.

	"Arms wrapped about each others shoulders, we strode forest paths,
now brightly marked by daylight.

	"As the trail widened and the woodland curtain parted up ahead, we
heard shrill voices crying in the Mona Maternesse tongue.

	"My boy and I rushed forward and discovered four lads on the brink
of an abyss.

	"Deep, wide, and lined with jagged stone, the gorge sundered the
path back to the forest clearing.

	"'Cease wailing, silly girls, before I fuck ya like a flock of
yearling sheep!'

	"Silencing the boys' tears, I set them searching for the longest,
fattest logs in the forest.  By midmorning, we collected an awesome
stockpile at the lip of the crevasse.

	"We shoved the biggest pole across the gorge until only the height
of one small boy remained on our side.  Even so, the bridge lacked the
length to span the gap, but any fearless boy could reach the far side with
a running broad jump.

	"We lashed our bridge together with four other logs, then
criss-crossed our remaining stockpile over the five poles, making the
timbers stable and secure.  Wrapping stout cords of sturdy hemp about our
waists, we started out across our homemade bridge.

	"The log held steady underneath our weight.  Reaching the half way
point, I broke into a trot, then ran, then leapt, then soared into the air
and sailed through empty space to safety on the other side.

	"The young knave A'arnstyi A'ariolyi easily duplicated my
exploits.  But the four brothers on the bridge quivered and sobbed in
fear.

	"'C'mon ya little sissy girls!  Get over here right now!  Ya make
me come and get ya and I'll fuck ya like a flock of yearling sheep!'

	"The eldest boy, emboldened by my taunts, ran towards the gap and
leapt, sailing safely across.

	"The second brother rubbed his arm along his dribbling nose.  He
took a breath, stepped back a pace, then ran forward and jumped. 
Spreading his arms wide open the boy flew across emptiness, arriving
safely on the other side.  But their two brothers clung together, weeping
and not stepping forward.

	"'Yo, sissy girls!  Ya earns ya passage with ya pussy holes!'

	"A'arnstyi A'ariolyi coiled one end of a long hemp around a stout
tree trunk.  I cinched the other end about my waist.  Leaping across the
gorge I landed squarely on our wooden bridge.

	"'C'mon ya sissy girls!  Who needs to get her pussy hole fucked
real, real bad?'

	"Third brother quaked, dropping down on his knees to suck my toes.

	"'Please help me Sir!  Please help me get across, Sir! Please,
Sir, please!'

	"'You silly little twat!'

	"I bent the boy over my knee, whipping his butt until both cheeks
glowed fiery red.  Thrusting five fingers up his pussy hole, I punched his
prostate out, making him lick my fingers clean.

	"'Think ya can be my brave strong boy, or do I have to toss ya off
the bridge!'

	"'Yes, Sir!  Yes, Sir!' the tyke exclaimed.

	"The middle brother filled his lungs with air.  Shutting his eyes,
he ran and jumped and landed safely on the other side.

	"'And now you, sissy girl!  What'll Big Daddy do to make Miss
Pussy take the leap?'

	"The youngest brother locked his arms about the log and wailed."

	"'No way!  No way!  They're ain't no fucking way!'

	"'You stupid little girl!'

	"I slapped his face until his arms relaxed their grip about the
log.

	"I slung the lad across my back, binding his wrists around my neck
so he would not slip off.  I broke into a run, when suddenly a sharp
clawed, sharp fanged Vhortahr glided up from the abyss on leather wings.

	"'O fuck, I do not need this kinda shit!'

	"I punched the Vhortahr's long beaked head, then hooked a right
into his gut that knocked his lights out.

	"'Hasta la vista, baby!' I yelled as the monster crashed into the
rocks below.

	"And then without breaking my stride I leapt and soared into the
air.  I touched down on the other side in time to hear the Hermanuta
mother ship descending."


				BOYHOOD'S END,
				Episode #4,
			by HazeMaster@aol.com

	"Our cruelest ordeals now commenced.  The starship rendez-vous'd
with cruisers from far Grossengaluten outlands.  All new recruits the
Hermanutas transferred to the care of giant Krugkopfs.  None of us here
had ever left our native planet.  Fear churned our stomachs, tightening an
iron vise about our chests."

	The evening cool descended on the Convent of the Healing Sisters. 
In a low, rasping whisper Noble Warrior Kare'enyi Na'aklyi resumed his
narration.

	"When the starship touched down upon its destination in a distant
galaxy, the Krugkopfs bawled out 'Sooo-eee Triefenfuckers! 'Sooo-eee
Triefenfuckers!'

	"The buzz cut demons penned us in the ship like livestock.  The
cargo hold opened.  Hydraulic winches lowered our cage to a high platform
atop metal girded scaffolding.

	"Large metal claws swung overhead, catching recruits around the
waist with leather harnesses.  We hovered in the air, all four limbs
dangling from our midsection.

	"The Krugkopfs stood atop rows of nearby scaffolding.  As young
men drifted in their range, the tattooed devils captured the unfortunates
and sheared us hairless head to toe.  My shame at this humiliation seared
my soul--surely had I proven my manhood beyond the need for such a public
degradation.

	"But the archfiends knew even harsher torments.

	"Slapping adherent stencils to our butts, the Krugkopfs branded
our asscheeks with stinging pink and purple dyes.  Shamefilled tears
spilled from our eyes--even the strongest recruits bawled like frightened
children.

	"Bellowing 'Sooo-eee Triefenfuckers! 'Sooo-eee Triefenfuckers!'
the moist lipped hell hounds tossed us in the dust so that we landed on
our hands and knees like barnyard animals.

	"The bolder recruits stood upright, challenging our high rumped
tormentors.

	"Guffawing Krugkopfs pronged the rebels' naked buttocks with sharp
pitchforks.  The sergeants slammed resistors in the nuts with canvas sacks
of corn cobs, pelting their heads with hard pellets of dung.

	"Soon every boy dropped down on his hands and knees, braying
loudly like livestock.  Jeering 'Mooo!  Mooo!', 'Baaa! Baaa!', the
Krugkopfs drove us from the starship to a farmyard, penning us in a thick
planked sty."

	Duke's hardon swelled and stiffened in his homespun trousers. 
Circles of pre-cum widened on Marine Corps Private Vinnie Borsa's crotch.

	"On hands and knees we wallowed in the mud and muck and mire.  The
sergeants dumped old fruit into a wooden trough running the length of our
pen.  Yelling out 'Sooo-eee!  Soo-eee!' Krugkopfs whacked our butts with
prods that sent electric current surging through our naked skin.  Boys who
accomplished brave, heroic deeds, now shit their guts out in our muddy
sty.

	"'Baaa!'  'Mooo!'  'Baaa!'  'Mooo!" taunted the capped toothed
hellish angels.  From three sides of the coop the wranglers whacked and
pronged and stung our naked asscheeks.  Formerly proud young men now wept,
staggering blindly in the piss and dung.

	"'Baaa!'  'Mooo!'  'Baaa!'  'Mooo!'

	"'Git at ya feed ya lowly Triefenfuckers!'

	"'Baaa!'  'Mooo!'  'Baaa!'  'Mooo!"

	"We lost all pride.  We lost all shame.  We lost all sense of
self.

	"We gobbled up the rancid, stinking fruit, then puked up over one
another.  The stench of vomit, piss, and dung suffocated our nostrils. 
Our excretions blended with the sty's muck and mud and mire to cake our
naked pelts with rank putrefaction."

	Heedless of the orphans surrounding them, the Duke and Marine
Private Vinnie Borsa wanked each other off.

	"I swilled in chaos and confusion.  Flailing limbs struck me in
the face.  Tumbling bodies slammed my chest, knocking me on my back. 
Elbows connected with my abdomen, and blindly kicking feet crushed my
ballsack.  Truly I had degraded myself to a barnyard brute.

	"The Krugkopfs jeered and pelted us with apples.

	"'Baaa, baaa, ya lowly Triefenfuckers!'

	"'Mooo, mooo, ya lowly Triefenfuckers!'

	"At last we wretched livestock collapsed from exhaustion.  Bereft
of dignity and self-respect, we nestled in the vile, disgusting sty, a
fitting pen for bestial barnyard creatures.

	"The Krugkopfs allowed no respite.  Throwing open the stockade's
wooden gate, pink nippled hell spawn fired stinging blasts of water from
high pressure hoses at our sheared and battered skin.

	"Like maddened beasts, we rushed from the corral.  Those rash
enough to stand upright the Krugkopfs soon subdued with sharply focused
hosings.  The prudent galloped on all fours into a vast, high ceilinged
barn where we collapsed into the hay strewn stalls.

	"The sergeants attached metal nozzles to our cockshafts, then
screwed a clamp with four ball bearings round our scrotums.  Using these
torturous devices, the moist lipped archfiends milked us three times daily
till they drained our ballsacks empty.

	"The Krugkopfs pounced upon those boys who could not fill their
metal pails to the indicated mark.  Jeering, "Dry dick!  Dry Dick!" the
blue eyed demons painted their victim's cockshaft red and stained his
balls with stinging violet tinctures.  The recruiters forced eyedroppers
of salsa picante into the sobbing po'boy's piss hole.  Never before had I
heard men screaming like women, the slaggards' red, contorted faces
dripping snot and tears.

	"Recruits who could not fill their quotas two days running
disappeared from the barnyard.

	"Further degradations confronted boys with enough spunk to make
the mark three times each day.

	"During the daystar's light, we wallowed in our muddy coop.  By
night we slept in straw filled stalls reeking of our own puke and shit. 
We slurped our swill out of communal troughs the Krugkopfs used as
urinals.  But no humiliation surpassed the games our sergeants devised for
their own amusement.

	"Smoking their fat cigars, the high rumped hell hounds lounged
against the coral fence, laughing and placing bets.

	"For our first competition, the recruiters stuffed po'boys'
rectums with squishy plums from Vedantiana.  Each recruit's mouth burrowed
inside his partner's pussy hole, retrieving treasures lurking all along
the glory road, scarfing them down without chewing.

	"Teams losing three out of five matches vanished from the
barnyard.

	"For teams winning five matches out of eight, soft fruits gave way
to small green apples from Deannadienst. Instead of swallowing the entire
fruit, the po'boy bit four chunks from the apple, and, wrists bound to his
collar, inserted the core within the sphincter of a second waiting boy.

	"The Krugkopfs' largest bets were wagered on the final
competition.  The buzz cut hellish angels slathered hard, sharp corn cobs
with hot melted butter from Ursulagrandee.  The sergeants stuffed the corn
cobs up a po'boy's pussy hole, making the lad squat with his legs splayed
wide apart.  His partner slid beneath the squatting boy, who shat the corn
cobs one by one into his gaping mouth.  The recruit filled his cheeks with
the corn cobs, then using just his tongue and lips, passed them back up
inside his partner's butt.

	"Any team winning five matches, the sergeants declared champions
and retired from the games.  The smooth skinned fiends enrolled A'arnstyi
A'ariolyi and myself in ten contests before we gained our final victory. 
The Krugkopfs had retired only four teams before our triumph.  The
sergeants declared three more teams champions while the blood red moon
waxed once to fullness and then waned to nothingness.

	"Now two boys from the Mona Maternesse remained in competition,
having won four victories in twelve matches. Pink nippled demons wagered
high stakes in favor of their adversaries, two husky Lykanthines who won
four competitions out of eight.

	"Torches blazed in the night.  Jugs filled with mountain
lightening passed from hand to hand.  The sergeants guffawed as they
belched and farted at each other.  The stench of cigar smoke overwhelmed
both the players' sweat and the unwavering stink of dung and urine.  I
pressed close to the railing, watching the capped toothed devils prep the
contestants.  Krugkopfs stuffed handsfull of corn cobs up each po'boy's
glory hole.  Carefully I kept count.  The Lykanthines received two less
husks than the Mona Maternesse boys.

	"The whistle blew to start the match.  The po'boys quickly shat
their loads into their partners' mouths.  The recruits' cheeks swelled up
like chipmunks on the Nonazhenricks.  The drunken Krugkopfs roared
encouragement.

	"'Go Lykanthines!  Go Lykanthines!  Go Lykanthines!'

	"Now the determined players stuffed the shit smeared corn cobs
back into their partners' pussy holes.

	"'Go Lykanthines!  Go Lykanthines!  Go Lykanthines!'

	"The players strained to complete their appointed task.  Their
faces flushed deep red as purple veins swelled out along their necks.

	"'Go Lykanthines!  Go Lykanthines!  Go Lykanthines!'

	"Three teams collapsed before the final gun.  Only the Lykanthines
and Mona Maternesse boys remained in competition.

	"'Go Lykanthines!  Go Lykanthines!  Go Lykanthines!'

	"The burly Lykanthine peeled back his lips, ramming his final corn
cob up his partner's road to glory.

	"'Go Lykanthines!  Go Lykanthines!  Go Lykanthines!'

	"The victory gun fired off its load.  The Krugkopfs roared,
punching each other's beer guts.

	"One corn cob remained in the Mona Maternesse farmboy's cheeks. 
The screaming Krugkopfs declared the Lykanthines the newest champions.

	"Without thinking I vaulted into the coral.  Seizing the judge's
gun I fired into the air.

	"The boys fell back from the stockade.  The Krugkopfs bristled at
my interruption.

	"'Wait up!  Wait up!' 

	"My voice sounded from deep within my gut.

	"'This match has not been fairly played!  The Lykanthines were
given less corn cobs to pass--'

	"The blow sent me reeling across the length of the coral.  The
Krugkopf slugged me in the face, breaking my nose, although I didn't
notice till next morning.

	"The red faced judge ground his boot heel into my crotch, then
unbuttoned his fly and fired a hot gold stream into my face.

	"'Got any more smart ass remarks, ya ball-less piss slobbering
Triefenfucker?'

	"I slithered through the mud until I reached a burlap sack of corn
cobs.  Before the Krugkopf even saw, I pulled the drawstrings tight,
whirled the sack twice, and slammed it in the judge's crotch.

	"The drunkard roared with pain.  The blue eyed hellish angels
bellowed out their anger.  Triefenfolken roared back our bold defiance.

	"'Kare'enyi Na'aklyi, here!'

	"A'arnstyi A'ariolyi handed me a splintered rail from the coral
fence.

	"My body flying of its own accord, I slammed the bawling judge's
head with my weapon.  His skull split open as he crumbled in the muck and
mire of the coral.

	"'Liberation!  Liberation!  Liberation!'

	"Our young men raised a victory chant.  In a moment the inspired
Grossengaluten recruits deconstructed the coral fence to a hundred
weapons.

	"'Liberation!  Liberation!  Liberation!'

	"The drunken Krugkopfs reeled through the barnyard.

	"'Liberation!  Liberation!  Liberation!'

	"Brandishing wooden clubs above our heads, our heros drove the
smooth skinned devils in a fast gallop.

	"'Liberation!  Liberation!  Liberation!'

	"Bursting in flames, the blazing barn illuminated our hot night.

	"'Liberation!  Liberation!  Liberation!'

	"The Krugkopfs stumbled into one another, tripped, staggered, fell
into the mud and dung.

	"'Liberation!  Liberation!  Liberation!'

	"Our heros pounced upon our tormentors, ripping the sergeants'
uniforms to shreds.  Emboldened by our victory, we Grossengaluten recruits
mounted our fallen oppressors.  Spreading their asscheeks wide open, we
fucked the Krugkopfs shitless till the break of day.

	"'Liberation!  Liberation!  Liberation!'

	"Our young men ploughed the Krugkopfs' tight round butts, our
hard, fat mancocks punching out their prostates.  I rammed my drooling
dick up five cum dripping Krugkopf assholes.  A'arnstyi A'ariolyi
administered hot piss enemas into seven purple welted buttcheeks. 
Grossengaluten fists corkscrewed up brown lipped sergeants' glory roads.

	"'Liberation!  Liberation!  Liberation!'

	"At the conjoined apogee of Hermanuta Serenissima's twin moons,
Ahrkimaggeo and Vosaquatus, Lieutenant Commander Antemodes Ahrkantepodes
administered the solemn oath enrolling we Grossengaluten recruits as
members of the plebe year class at the Masa'att Academy."


				BOYHOOD'S END,
				Episode #5,
		(Revised 10/22 by popular demand)
			by HazeMaster@aol.com

	Thus I began my education as a Masa'att midshipman.

	First day as plebes, barbers shaved our heads, sculpting each
platoon's barracks emblem on our scalps.  Because Grossengaluten plebes
had not learned to read, we identified dorm mates by the topiary hedges on
their skulls.

	Academy tailors fashioned our uniforms.  In warm seasons plebes
donned white trousers and jackets; in cool seasons we dressed in navy
blue.  Regardless of color, the trousers adhered snugly to our butts and
crotches.  The brass buttoned plebe jacket terminated at our belt loops. 
Academy regulations forbade a plebe's jacket from covering his privates.

	On the parade ground upperclassmen taught plebes how to stand and
march.  Jaws thrust forward.  Shoulders thrown back.  Chest fully
expanded.  Stomach tucked in.  Pelvis pushed backwards.  A plebe always
displayed his buttocks, no matter what the time or season.

	The first trimester's tumult kept me hard from before reveille
till after taps. Upperclassmen yelled orders in our faces, bellowing
sounds we could not comprehend as words.

	"Yo, shit head, look how you fucked up again!"

	Sweating, I bent over to scan the monitor.

	"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-yow!"

	"GOTCHA, PUSSY ASSED PLEBE!"

	Red faced I leapt into the air.

	If any upperclassman spied a plebe bent over from the waist with
buttocks in the air, the upperclassman squeezed the po'boy's balls and
mounted him.

	The upperclassman rode his pony the entire day, whipping the
plebe's butt with a riding crop.  The upperclassman fed and watered his
mount in the stables, curried the plebe with grooming brushes, then fucked
him before the entire platoon.

	My cockmeat stiffened when I heard the dread sound "Gotcha!"  And
many mornings I awoke from sticky dreams of being so abused before my
classmates.  No Mona Maternesse farm boy ever enjoyed such a prolonged
turn on.  I could not wait to serve as equerry to Antemodes Ahrkantepodes.

	And daily upperclassmen taunted us, "If you think this trimester's
rough, just wait until we get you on your plebe cruise, krongk shits!"

	Civilian instructors taught Grossengaluten plebes to read and
write Hermanuta Serenissima "new script."  (Kaduma Masters presented their
lessons orally.  Only after the Second Drodai'ic War devastated Kaduma
Pentangles, did Hermanutas compile their Teachers' wisdom.)

	After three lunations of the twin moons, Vosaquatus and
Ahrkimaggeo, we joined classes with plebes from other galaxies.  Our long,
arduous syllabus compressed millennia of learning into twelve trimesters.

	Mornings began before the daystar rose, with stretches
calisthenics, push-ups, sits-ups, and a 12Z run.

	Morning classes: Multi-Galactic Languages and Traditions;
Rhetoric, Composition, and Debate; Military History and Strategy;
Political History; and Trans-Galactic Etiquette, Diplomacy, and Protocol. 
Examples ranged throughout the altiverse.  Assignments required further
research at the library.  Helmets with sensors plugged into our skulls
transmitted lessons from the database directly into the cerebral cortex. 
But navigation of each database depended on the student's skill and
curiosity.

	The morning ended in the field house doing endless reps of
presses, curls, and squats for every muscle in our bodies, followed by
twenty-four laps bare assed naked in the chilly pool.

	After luncheon, we studied Physics; Bio-Chemistry; Trans-Galactic
Navigation; Design and Drafting; Computer Systems Internals; Weapons
Technology; and Engineering (Mechanical, Electrical, Stella, and
Ahrkimaggeo-Crystal).  In an enormous hanger, plebes disassembled and
reconstructed vehicles for travel on land, water, air, and outer space.

	To end the afternoon, we practiced hand to hand and small arms
combat, then drilled with our battalion until dinner.  Racing to the
barracks, we double timed up broad stone steps, the upperclassmen
screaming in our faces, grabbing our crotches, and smacking our buttocks
while we galloped past them bellowing like Tauromitra herded to the
slaughterhouse.

	"Move that fat butt, ya mangy Triefenfuckers!"

	"Hustle ya ass, flabby Verkauffah merchants!"

	"Moo!  Moo!  Moo!  Moo!"

	Upperclass gross outs could not quell the hardon bulging in my
trousers.  No Mona Maternesse farm boy ever had such stimulation to stay
stiff and drooling.  I could not wait to serve as equerry to Antemodes
Ahrkantepodes.

	And daily upperclassmen taunted us, "If you think this trimester's
rough, just wait until we get you on your plebe cruise, krongk shits!"

	Midshipmen sanctified their evenings to intensive research beneath
the library's sensor-cortex helmets.  Prowling the alternet from archive
to archive and galaxy to galaxy, the wealth of information dazzled me. 
Instructors rewarded students for drawing logical conclusions utilizing
significant data retrieved from sources spanning multiple aeons and
galaxies.  But the sheer joy of learning kept me at my studies till plebe
curfew sounded.  Upperclassmen continued their library research through
the night.  Plebes returned to barracks before the final watch.

	The plebe class showered within a huge communal lavatory, pipes
extending in four rows the room's entire length.  Pairs of  plebes shared
common shower nozzles.  We soaped our partner's up, then shaved each
other's bodies hairless under freezing streams of stinging water.  Our
shower buddy also shared our sleeping cot, again arranged in four long
rows in the communal dormitory.  We slept beneath a thin white sheet,
naked, except for leather codpieces.  Academy regulations forbade a plebe
to bring himself or any other plebe to orgasm.  Instant expulsion
penalized that rule's violators.

	Our shower and sleeping partners rotated in accordance with the
Hermanutas' arcane calendar based on the conjoined phases of both moons,
Ahrkimaggeo and Vosaquatus.  Sometimes two plebes shared the same cot for
many, many nights.  Sometimes the partners shifted after only several
couplings.  Any plebe who unraveled this arcana, upperclassmen allowed to
masturbate at will.  But no plebe in Masa'att Academy's long history had
ever pierced the Mystery of the Twin Waxing Waning Moons.

	Every plebe performed morning duty for a suite of upperclassmen. 
We shined their boots and polished their buttons and belt buckles until
the surface gave us our reflections back.

	I brought the upperclassmen steaming mugs of dark brewed caffeine.
 Standing at attention, I announced: "Good morning, SIRS!  What service
may this lowly plebe perform for you distinguished gentlemen this morning,
SIRS!"

	The upperclassmen threw their blankets off, exhibiting their
roaring hardons.  Dropping into a squat, I sucked off all eight
upperclassmen in the suite.  I learned to recognize the taste and scent of
every upperclassman's crotch within my dorm sector.

	The Hermanutas' pale white, uncrowned, slender cocks were ivory
smooth, picked out with veins like skeins of colored marble.  Their fair
haired crotches neither sweat nor smelled, and their asscracks were always
squeaky clean.

	Humongous mushroom caps crowned the long, fat Lykanthine shafts. 
Reeking with sweat, precum, and shit, their woolly crotches gave off
pungent odors in the early morning.

	The Krugkopfs' short, fat, dark brown knobs telescoped out the
moment my tongue slurped them, expanding into a humongous rod between my
gagging jaws.  Plebes unable to breathe through their nostrils quickly
vanished from the Academy.

	SZoid cockmeat blossomed from their nests of braided crotch hairs.
 SZoids never bathed.  As duty plebe I tongued their thickly matted balls,
sucking the lice out of their long, blond hairs.

	The upperclassmen stroked my shaven skull, murmuring,  "Slurp it,
muffy mouth.  Lap up that mancum with your twat tongue, little muffy
mouth.  Yeah, c'mon, lick it muff mouth.  Ya know ya loves it cuz ya baby
dick gets hard n droolin every time ya tastes my meat."

	At each conjoined lunation of the twin moons, Vosaquatus and
Ahrkimaggeo, the platoon presented the Muzzy Muffy Mouth Awards for
Cocksucking.  I won the medal more often than any middie in my plebe year.
 Surely no Mona Maternesse farm boy ever kept his dick stiff for as long
as I did.  I could not wait to serve as equerry to Antemodes
Ahrkantepodes.

	And daily upperclassmen taunted us, "If you think this trimester's
rough, just wait until we get you on your plebe cruise, krongk shits!"

	Plebe platoons rotated guard duty assignments.  The plebe stood at
attention the entire watch.  Chest thrust forward and butt thrust back, he
resembled an ancient sand filled hour glass.  If he heard footsteps in the
night, the guard discharged his flare launcher and bellowed his challenge:
 "STOP IN THE NAME OF LOVE, BEFORE YOU FUCK MY BUTT!"

	I greeted guard duty assignments with a drooling hardon.

	Upperclassmen returning from the library, field house, or weapons
range amused themselves at the plebe guard's expense.  Gliding behind a
plebe on soft soled shoes, the tormentors flicked tongues in the guard's
ear murmuring, "Moo-eee.  Moo-eee.  Moo-eee."  Hearing that sound, I knew
again my doom was sealed.

	Upperclassmen played with my butt, commenting on its attributes
like gross Verkauffah merchants at a livestock auction.

	"Nice firmness here."

	"Nice roundness."

	"Good meaty heft."

	"Good bulk."

	"Fine dinner for an entire village."

	Blowing cigar smoke in my face, upperclassmen relieved me of my
launcher, unbuttoned my tunic, and twisted my nipples.

	"Nice suckling teats."

	"A good milk cow."

	"Fine dairymaiden for a village nursery."

	"Moo-eee!  Moo-eee!  Moo-eee!  Moo!"

	Upperclassmen unlaced the webbing of my trousers.  Bayonets
slashed my briefs to shreds.  Upperclass fingers yanked my erect dick,
squeezing my shaven balls and probing my asscrack.

	"Nice sausage meat."

	"Tasty with Guernstein mustard."

	"Tastier still with salsa verde."

	"Fine elasticity in the bean bag."

	"Good weighty plums inside the sack."

	"Nicely skewered for shish kabob."

	"With clean, well lighted kishkes for the village kids to romp
around in."

	When northwinds crisply blew, the upperclassmen bent me over,
quickly fucking me in turn with their spit lubricated cockshafts.

	But if mild breezes wafted through the treetops, the upperclassmen
lingered, toying with their hapless captive.

	"Yo, plebe pup really gets turned on when his kid meat is hangin
loose under the starry firmament."

	"Yeah, pouchie's such a pussy face, he oughta stay a plebe for
three more years."

	My cockhead drooled anticipating what the upperclassmen might mete
out as punishment.  Perhaps they'd tickle torture me tonight.  Perhaps a
spider whip flogging my nuts.  Perhaps a ballstretcher or leather cinch
about my swollen, purple cockshaft.  Most certainly warm golden showers
from head to toe.  And sometimes all of the above.

	Eventually, the upperclassmen abandoned their sport, leaving me
standing at attention, minus tunic, trousers bunched about my boots,
condemned to pass the night as best I could sporting a roaring hardon.

	Thanks to sharp farmer's ears and constant wakefulness, the
upperclassmen only "pounced" me four times each trimester.  But many,
many, many evenings I heard upperclassmen torment my platoon mates. 
Precum soaked through my shorts and trousers, and I imagined I was once
again the tortured plebe guard.

	And daily upperclassmen taunted us, "If you think this trimester's
rough, just wait until we get you on your plebe cruise, krongk shits!"


				BOYHOOD'S END,
				Episode #6,
			by HazeMaster@aol.com

	At every third conjoined lunation of the twin moons, Ahrkimaggeo
and Vosaquatus, our platoon participated in twenty days of field
maneuvers.  I anticipated these bivouacs with a hard, drooling cockshaft.

	Convoys transported the platoon 24KZ from the Academy.  Our
redoubts alternated between fly infested marshlands, eroding beach heads,
and jagged, stony mountainsides.  Plebes departed before daybreak,
reconnoitering the terrain, selecting the command post, and establishing
camp before upperclassmen arrived.

	Officers always found fault with our site selection, commanding
plebes to strike camp and rebuild it to their satisfaction.  As plebe
corporal, upperclassmen punished me for such mistakes by pissing in my
fatigues the entire day.  Supervising squads while wearing piss drenched
cammies laced into my boots proved an unfailing turn on for me.

	During the day the platoon performed calisthenics, marched 36Z
carrying full 48Q backpacks, ran obstacle courses while rounds of
ammunition fired overhead, rappelled up sheer rock faces, constructed
bridges spanning wide ravines, damned rivers and dug trenches, then hunted
down the game our messmates ate for dinner.

	At night platoon officers presided over Courts of Honor.  My
cockshaft inevitably snapped to attention during formation, and
upperclassmen loudly pointed out precum stains on my fatigues.

	Officers commenced the ceremony by presenting the Sarah Siddons
award to the plebe who maintained the highest scholastic grade point
average while keeping up the longest sustained hardon.  Throughout plebe
year, I never failed to win that glittering prize.

	While my face flushed bright red, high resolution projectors
beamed holographs into the dark night sky.  Me with a hardon wearing full
dress uniform on drill formation.  Me with a hardon running track in gym
shorts.  Me with a hardon in fatigues repairing an old Lucas Starship.  Me
with a hardon in my khakis at the library computer banks.  And always
fully detailed close-ups of my crotch to show the precum stains.

	The middie band played drum rolls while the platoon serenaded me:

	"Boner boy!  Boner boy!  KN is our boner boy!
	"Hoist that rod, always hard,
	"Show the faculty!
	"Keep it up!  Keep it up!  Keep it up!  HARD!
	"Our boner boy!  RAH!"

	Platoon lieutenants stripped me naked.  The tech squads beamed
search lights at me, assisting all the troops to see my roaring hardon. 
The battalion commander tied a blue silk ribbon round my cockshaft.  The
gold medal dangled between my thighs resting against my ballsack.  Academy
regulations obliged me to milk myself, while upperclassmen wagered on how
many times I'd shoot, how far I'd fire my load, how high I could fill the
platoon cum bucket.

	The evening breeze raised goosebumps on my naked flesh. Every
middie's attention focused on my shooting iron.  As a proud a member of an
elite corps of midshipmen, a first class scholar, a competitive athlete,
an outstanding draughtsman, an excellent mechanic, and a corporal in my
second plebe trimester, life gave me no reasons to feel humiliated. 
Masa'att midshipmen learn to take whatever jokes their mates dished
out--and learn to give it back as well.

	Before the daystar rose, the first round of maneuvers had begun. 
In the dead hours of night I led my commandos over 24Z of rough terrain to
gain a redoubt overlooking the "enemy's" fortified bunkers.  Moving
swiftly, we mined their perimeter with high powered explosives.  Then we
retreated to our trenches for much needed sleep.

	Awakening, we smelled their breakfast cookfires.  Trusting their
fortifications, the "enemy" commanders sent out no patrols.  In camouflage
fatigues and charcoal smeared faces, my squad slipped down the hillside
through the purple shadowed brush cover.  The daystar had not gained the
second parsec when we detonated our explosives.

	VVVRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!

	Our discharge shattered the still morning.

	Two bunkers lost their western walls.

	Screaming warcries of legendary Dardalukes from fabled Zhagahdir,
my men raced forward, firing Uzis.

	BRAATT!  BRAAATT!  BRAAAATT!  BRAAAAATT!

	I led the charge into the first bunker.  The confused "enemy"
capitulated instantly.

	BRAATT!  BRAAATT!  BRAAAATT!  BRAAAAATT!

	We rushed the second bunker before officers organized defenses. 
Fortifications still protected third bunker.

	Shouting out "Tora!  Tora!!  Tora!!!" my commandos bombarded the
"enemy's" position with grenade launchers.  The bunker walls collapsed. 
Fires broke out within the compound.

	BRAAMM!  BRAAAMM!  BRAAAAMM!  BRAAAAAMM!

	Defying smoke and chaos I raced through  enemy  flack, vaulting
over their crumbling fortifications.  My squad subdued resistors, taking
the last holdouts without losing a single man while suffering only minor
burn wounds.

	Ours was the first squad returning victorious to headquarters.

	The night the Court of Honor promoted Corporal Kare'enyi Na'aklyi
to plebe sergeant.  They also promoted another plebe corporal for valiant
leadership--a midshipman from the Quogue planetary system.

	Academy tradition prescribed competition between newly promoted
plebe sergeants.  Upperclassmen stripped us naked, greasing our bodies
with machine oil.  The upperclassmen bound our hands behind our backs,
looping a nylon cord below my cockhead.  Like Hermanutas, Quogues
possessed smooth, white, slender, headless cocks.  The upperclassmen
slapped a strip of velcro on the Quogue sergeant's shaft, knotting the
nylon cord around the velcro strip.

	While middies wagered on the match, I wrapped my arm about my
rival's shoulder.

	"Listen, bro," I whispered into his ear, "let's have ourselves
some laughs tonight, and pull a super goof on all these upperclassmen."

	The Quogue stared at me as if I were mad.

	"Not Academy regulation, Mister."

	Upperclassmen pulled taut the nylon cord between the new Quogue
sergeant's cock and mine.  We faced each other on a wooden plank above a
bubbling mud pit.  A bright red line bisected the wood plank.  Whichever
sergeant pulled the other over the red line, gained 6 points.  Whichever
sergeant pulled the other over the red line and down into the mud pit
gained 12 points.  Whichever sergeant first scored 60 points won both the
competition and the offensive position in tomorrow's war games.

	The whistle blew.

	The middies roared.

	"GO KN, GO!"

	"QUOGUES RULE!"

	"GO KN, GO!"

	Plebes wagered their PX allowances on me.

	Upperclassmen bet heavily upon the Quogue, and with a wide point
spread.

	Though I was taller, heavier, a better all round athlete, the
Quogue was a psychotic killer without any feelings.

	"GO KN, GO!"

	"QUOGUES RULE!"

	"GO KN, GO!"

	Centering my body, focusing my ki, I breathed deeply to clear my
mind.  The Quogue sprang forward, flying through the air, jaws opened wide
to slash my jugular with his incisors.

	Leaping backward I pivoted.  The Quogue veered off his course,
splashing into the mud pit.

	The score: 12 - 0, my advantage.

	"GO KN, GO!"

	"GO KN, GO!"

	"GO KN, GO!"

	His squadmates pulled the sergeant from the pit.  Dripping with
mud, he glowered at me with death darts in his eyes.

	I slapped the Quogue's shoulder.

	"Yo, dude, chill out.  Let's have some fun with this and get
together for a brewski later."

	"Not Academy regulation, Mister."

	The Quogue dropped to a wrestler's squat, settling his weight
evenly on both feet.  Grounding himself, his eyes narrowed into twins
beams of piercing hatred.

	The Quogues directed psychic energy at their opponents,
penetrating the adversary s mind, attempting to un-nerve him.

	His burning rage pounded my consciousness.  My mind accepted all
the toxic poisons he flung out at me, took in his anger and his need to
win.  But still my ki remained serene and centered.

	My opponent and I each waited out the passing clock.

	"GO KN, GO!"

	"DUNK 'M, KN!"

	"GO QUOGUES!"

	"QUOGUES RULE FOREVER!"

	The Quogue leapt backward, pivoting.

	I spun around the Quogue, landing on both my feet.

	Rocking my hips, I tugged the nylon cord.

	Once more the Quogue tumbled into the mud pit.

	The score: 24 - 0, my advantage.

	"GO KN, GO!"

	"GO KN, GO!"

	"GO KN, GO!"

	The plebes roared their encouragement.

	Upperclassmen pelted the Quogue with piss filled condoms.

	High stakes demanded the Quogue win the match through either skill
or treachery.

	Again we faced off on the wooden plank.

	I blew kisses at my adversary.

	He shrieked curses at me.

	Thoroughly slimed with mud and piss, my opponent resumed his
wrestler's stance.  The Quogue's pupils dilated into bright red beams,
overflowing his lurid yellow corneas.  His tension vibrated along the
nylon cord binding our cocks. Shutting my eyes, I sunk inside the belly of
the Quogue, joining his quest after ancestral warriors to guide his body
on the path to victory.

	"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

	Fiercely screaming, my adversary hurled himself at me, feet aimed
directly at my head.  Crouching, I let my foe sail over me, his force
plunging us both into the muddy pit.

	"QUOGUES RULE!"

	"GO KN, GO!"

	"QOUGUES RULE!"

	"GO KN, GO!"

	Screaming, the crowd demanded carnage.

	Loosing his footing in the slimy mud, the Quogue submerged beneath
the muck and mire.  Fiercely tugging the nylon cord, he pulled me under
after him.

	Arms bound tightly behind our backs, we grappled on the pit's
slick floor.  We dared not breathe the noxious mud into our lungs, but
still we fought like savage Zhvata'ah warriors from the mountains of
Barya'amanah.

	My adversary kicked me in the mouth.  I pressed my bulk on top of
him.  Pinning him down, I ground my knee into his face.

	"GO KN, GO!"

	"GO KN, GO!"

	"GO KN, GO!"

	The plebes roared as my head emerged above the mud.

	The Quogue burst from the muck and mire.  Blood streamed down from
one eye and open wounds spackled his mud slimed torso.

	The Quogue sprang at me, biting through my ear.

	"GO QUOGUES!"

	"GO QUOGUES!"

	"GO QUOGUES!"

	Jamming his thigh into my groin, my adversary shoved me down,
incisors slashing my cockmeat.

	"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

	Mud filled my throat as pain seared through my wounded shaft.

	My rival spread his jaws around my testicles.  A moment's pause
forfeited my manhood.

	Bucking my hips, I thrust the Quogue sprawling across the slimy
pit.

	Slithering on the floor, I found my foe, grinding my heel into his
groin.

	I slid my shoulders in between his thighs, lifting him up above
the mud.

	"GO QUOGUES!"

	"GO QUOGUES!"

	"GO QUOGUES!"

	The upperclassmen roared, thinking their man now claimed his
victory.

	Rising to my full height, I dumped the Quogue across the wooden
plank.

	Straddling my thighs over my writhing foe, I pinned him to the
plank and jammed my bleeding cock into his hole of shame.

	"FUCK HIM, KN!"

	"FUCK HIM!"

	"FUCK HIM!"

	"FUCK HIM, KN!"

	Kicking fiercely, the Quogue struggled to buck me off.

	But my superior bulk planted him firmly on his belly while I
ploughed his butt hole.

	"FUCK HIM, KN!"

	"FUCK HIM!"

	"FUCK HIM, KN!"

	Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I saw myself degraded from proud
midshipman to barnyard animal.

	"FUCK HIM, KN!"

	"FUCK HIM!"

	"FUCK HIM, KN!"

	Firing my load into my vanquished foe, this plebe sergeant
resigned as game cock for officers' party entertainment.


				BOYHOOD'S END,
				Episode #7,
			by HazeMaster@aol.com

	Under cover of night, my squad stole to the beach 4Z east of the
campsite.  Inflating rubber rafts, we paddled through the surf,
circumnavigating the high, sheer cliffs that dropped directly to the sea.

	Before the daystar rose, my commandos made a beach head 70KZ past
"enemy" lines.  We deflated our rafts and stowed them beneath camouflage
netting.  The "enemy" had fortified itself within an ancient castle keep
atop a 1200Z fjord.  We could not scale their battlements, but we could
decimate their forces squad by squad.

	As the sky pinkened and clouds shone with gilded scrolling, loud
cawing gulls gyred overhead.  Descending from the fortress, patrols
foraged for game amidst densely tangled scrub brush.  Soundlessly my squad
took out 40 men. We left our trophies stark naked, blindfolded, gagged,
ankles bound tight together and wrists tied behind their backs.  Markers
with our squad emblem jutted from exposed butt holes.

	Wearing the enemy's fatigues and bearing canvas sacks bulging with
game, my squad easily passed through every checkpoint, taking out 20 more
men in the process.  Once in the kitchens we unloaded our bounteous hoard,
then overcame the mess staff.  Since cooks and KP squads did not qualify
as combatants, we merely blindfolded and gagged them, stripped them bare
assed, then left them bound as couples in the 69 position locked within
the castle's vaulted pantry larder.

	We set the cook fires burning under cauldrons of oatmeal so that
the enemy would not suspect our ambuscade. Silently racing to the
battlements, we swiftly captured all 12 lookout sentries.  Stealing up to
castle turrets, we took out 16 anti-aircraft squads.  Flashing a signal to
our waiting forces with a silver mirror, we donned gas masks and secreted
ourselves amidst the sprawling castle's nooks and crannies.

	VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

	VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

	Shattering the bucolic early morning silence, our hovercraft flew
low over the undefended castle.

	BRAAATAATAT!  BRAAATAATAT!  BRAAATAATAT!

	Machine gun fire split the air.

	BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!  BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! 

	Explosives detonated in the courtyard.

	The castle quickly filled with smoke and flames.

	Now single snipers, my commandos raced through the inferno,
confounding chaos with confusion.

	The battle raged till almost mid-day.

	I took out over 30 men myself.

	My squad did not suffer a single casualty.

	At the field ceremony afterwards, the battalion commander awarded
each of my men a silver star.  I not only received a silver star, the
commandant pinned a Golden Bear First Class on my grunged fatigues.  On
the trucks returning us to our bivouac, I learned that last night's new
Quogue sergeant had turned coat and decamped with three squadrons for
Xyla'anta.  Honor demanded I avenge the upperclassmen's insult to my
comrade.

					*****	

	As I lay in my sleeping bag, my glory hole blazed like the night
flares shooting from the bakelite mines of Ommegamon.  Sharp pains surged
through my glory road, like raging fires devouring the Forests of
Anakryon.  I thought, despite my vaccinations, I contracted dysentery. 
But when I found tight loops of nylon cord binding my arms inside my
sleeping bag, I knew at once the nature of my distress.

	"YOU FUCKING KRONGK SHITS!  YOU FUCKING UNTIE ME BEFORE I FUCKING
WRITE YOU UP FOR COURTS OF DISHONOR!"

	Raucous laughter bombarded my pup tent.

	In keeping with Academy tradition, my commandos threw a "party"
honoring my receipt of the Golden Bear.

	"YOU WORTHLESS FUCKS!  I'M GONNA FUCKING PUT YOU ON BATTALION LIST
FOR THREE TRIMESTERS!"

	The hooting laughter outside increased with my agitation inside.

	Loosing control, I pissed myself, then, screaming from the pain, I
shat out three enormous rock hard turds that nearly split my glory hole.

	"Yo!  Sarge KN, ya gotta personal problem?"

	The men collapsed my pup tent, jeering as I writhed in my shit
filled sleeping bag.

	"Yo, Sarge KN, ya sho' do shake a nasty booty!"

	Clutching themselves as if their sides would split from laughter,
my squad cut loose the nylon cords and slashed my sleeping bag open.

	At once a furry creature with a long thin snout scurried across
the ground sniffing at all my turds.

	A Laxiter from Planet Vhenn.

	Deftly the creature slid his snout into my glory hole.  I felt its
tongue roll up my glory road.  Deep in my bowels two forces struggled for
control.  My kishkes heaved.  The Laxiter withdrew its snout from my
asscheeks.  A broad, flat worm, longer than my arm from my shoulder to my
fingertips wrestled to free itself from the Laxiter's cilia covered
tongue.

	And so my men "congratulated" me on my commendation for valor.

					*****

	Night and silence.

	Commandos, faces blackened with burnt cork, padded on rubber soles
around the camp's perimeter.

	Using split logs jointed together with no nails, plebes had
constructed an officers' club.  Sliding into the dug out cellar, we
affixed timed devices to the wooden floor boards.  Then scurried to the
scrub brush, waiting, watching.

	The first device exploded as the moon Vosaquatus ascended into the
seventh parsec.  Grey smoke filled the cellar with smells of massive
farts.

	The upperclassmen made rude jokes, and went on playing cards.

	The next device exploded as the moon Ahrkimaggeo rose over the
horizon.  Brown smoke spread the odor of bear turds all about the mess
hall.

	Upperclassmen emitted gross animal sounds, and went on drinking
cold Mos Eisley beer.

	The third device exploded as Ahrkimaggeo crossed into the fourth
parsec and Vosaquatus sunk behind the distant mountain range.  Black smoke
covered the wooden cabin with the scent of menstruating Hermanuta women.

	Choking and coughing, upperclassmen stumbled down the loose porch
steps, losing their footing on the oil slicked path, they careened against
metal drums haphazardly re-engineering their redoubt into an obstacle
course.

	We took out the twelve highest ranking officers.

	Bound, gagged, blindfolded, stuffed in rough canvas sacks, and
dumped in transport trucks--the officers suffered a bumpy 100Z ride from
the campsite to the savage Vha arghos mountain range.

	We staked the naked upperclassmen out spreadeagled on the open
rock face.

	Chilling winds pricked their exposed skin.

	Nocturnal howls of prowling predators tormented the captives'
imaginations.

	Close beating wings of sharp beaked scavenging night birds
terrorized our prisoners  fantasies.

	Drum beats and piercing warcries filled the nightscape.

	 NYAH GOONAH GOONAH!  GOONAH GOONAH! 

	 GOONAH GOONAH!  GOONAH GOONAH! 

	Commandos tweezed each hostage's pubic hair, and balls, and
armpits.

	We bagged small game, skinned them alive, and rubbed their bloody
entrails in our captives' pits and crotches.

	The hours of night pass along slowly, slowly in the wilderness.

	The scurrying of padded paws.

	The flapping, folding wings.

	The pounding drums.

	Shaking rattles.

	Fierce ancient chants of savage shamans.

	Each separate, clear, articulated sound breeding new fears or
nourishing existing phantoms.

	 NYAH GOONAH GOONAH!  GOONAH GOONAH! 

	 GOONAH GOONAH!  GOONAH GOONAH! 

	The screams commenced as warm, moist tongues lapped up the fresh
cut gore from newly shaved crotches.

	"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

	"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

	The shrieks intensified as sharply pointed beaks pecked out bloody
entrails nestling in hairless armpits.

	"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!"

	"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!"

	"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

	"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

	Civilized warriors gloat not over vanquished opponents.

	My commandos drove back to camp and calm untroubled slumber.

	Next afternoon MPs arrested us for insubordination.

	The Ma'asatt High Tribunal heard the charges read against my
squad.

	The Tribunal expelled the twelve complaining upperclassmen.  Sissy
boy crybabies have no place as Ma'asatt midshipmen.

	Each of my commandos received his second silver star, and a
transfer to second year barracks effective immediately.

	The Tribunal upgraded my promotion to Staff Sergeant and pinned a
Silver Wolf First Class on my left nipple.

	And the Tribunal announced my squad would leave on our first
Inter-Stella Cruise the next trimester.

		*****	To Be Continued	*****

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