The Interrogation

Both prisoners were tied to posts ten feet apart in the barn. They had been stripped naked and were tied with their feet behind the post and with their arms stretched high over their heads. The man was about fifty, a little on the heavy side, and had black, curly hair covering his body. Like most really hairy men and apes his genitals were small, although fifty years of gravity had pulled them low in his scrotum. His flaccid cock, veteran of thousands of copulations, was nearly hidden in the dense mat of hair. That is, his balls had been small when Carl started the interrogation, but during the course of the questioning they had swollen to double their ordinary size. Carl had seen many men naked, and had handled many of theri balls, and knew that hairy men usually had small balls and cocks. The drugs and electro-shock machine at headquarters would reveal the true extent of their manhood, as they both brought out erections, but he didn't have these devices available in the field so he had to rely on old-fashioned pain and torment, and this subject's resistance was admirable. He had been beated, hit in his balls, and even threatened with castration, and still had provided no information.

Castration was not a usual option for Carl, as a man who would surrender his balls to keep a secret would die before revealing it. A man can only be castrated once, Carl knew, but can have his bones broken many times and will heal so that a resourceful interrogator can do it again. Castration was a designated punishment for many crimes against the Federation, and Carl had nutted his share of prisoners, but never during their interrogations.

The boy was tied to the opposite post in full view of the father. He obviously favored his mother, as he was much lighter in complexion than the father. He was still beardless, but a shadow of hair graced his upper lip and was spreading outward from his crotch and sprouting from his armpits. He was nearly as tall as the father, and his genitals were already larger than the father's. Carl figured that the boy was a virgin, as the Rebels rarely had girls with them. His only experience had probably been with his own hand unless he fucked sheep. A thin trickle of dried blood adorned the youth's hailess scrotum and slender teenage cock. Carl had grabbed the boy's balls two hours ago and nicked them with his knife in his search for information. The boy immediately pissed on ther floor and fainted, proving to Carl that he knew nothing.

'Perhaps the boy is the key to the father.' Carl thought, as he once again roughly grabbed the boy's nuts and unsheathed his knife.

"You are a brave man, Major, and although you don't fear death please consider the fate of your son. He killed two of my men today," Carl said as he brought the knife near the terrified boy's stretched scrotum. For that he should die. He fought bravely this morning however, and he deserves a warrior's death by a firing squad instead of spending the rest of his life as a castrated, toothless field whore forced to lick his own shit from his enemies' cocks. I offer a quick, merciful death for your son in exchange for some information."

The Major answered by spitting on Carl's shiney boots. Carl put the knife away and savagely kneed both the man and the boy in the nuts. "Send in Fulber!" He shouted to his aide.

Sergeant Fulber, or 'Full Bore' as he was nicknamed, was about thiry years old and had been with Carl many years. He had been wounded in the head during a skirmish four years ago, and that had resulted in a totally changed personallity for the soldier. Before he had been shy and reserved. Now he was completely uninhibited and would immediately obey any order. It was often said that Fulber would shit in his own mess kit and cheerfully eat it if ordered by Carl to do so. He was still a fearless, intelligent trooper, but he had lost the ability to speak and now replied with had signals and grunts. While they waited for Fulber to arrive the men released the boy from the post and trussed him up on the floor.

Fulber entered the barn and smartly saluted.

"Fuck the boy, Fulber." Carl ordered. Fulber quickly undressed. When nude it was obvious why he was called Full Bore. His seven inch penis wasn't extaordinarily long for a big man, but it was a full three inches thick and the sight of the naked boy had brought it to full attention. Before the head wound Fulber would have never publicly masturbated or taken a women, much less sodomized a boy, but the accident had unearthed some hidden penchant for boys and now he was hot to trot no matter who was looking.

Another side effect of Fulber's wound was his endurance. Most sex-starved troopers were only capable of a few minutes of copulation before they popped, but Fulber was always good for a least a half hour in the saddle and often twice that. He was soon putting all his heart into his command performance, and the boy, face down in his own urine, had stopped screaming. The father strained against his bonds, but still refused to speak even as he watched the violation of the boy.

Fulber enjoyed a forty-five minute aerobic workout before he rolled off of the boy spent, with his bloody cock rapidly deflating. The boy rolled onto his side, revaling a white puddle of his own seed had been forced from him by Fulber's prostate massage.

Carl opened his trousers and hosed the blood and semen from the boy's thighs before training the stream of piss on his head. He then grabbed the boy for the third time that day, unsheathed his knife, and then dragged the sceaming boy by his balls over to the father.

"This is your last chance, Major." Carl had barely finished speaking when the wad of phlegm hit him in his face. He didn't hesitate this time and ther knife finished its slice.

"Call for the field surgeon." Carl commanded, wiping his face. "I want this boy to live until he is old enough to execute."

Carl held the severed organs close to the Major's face. "Has the Rebellion sunk so low as to allow beardless boys to be castra...." A volley of gunfire interrupted his tirade, and then the door crashed in as the Rebel forces recaptured the farm.

The major donned a fresh uniform and met with the Captain an hour later in the barn.

"That was close." He told his subordinate. "You came just in time. By the way, how is the Horton boy?"

"The doctor has stopped the bleeding and is dressing the wound. He should be okay."

"I don't know how 'okay' he'll be." The Major said nudging the remains of the boy's manhood with the toe of his boot.

Both men were silent awhile before the Captain spoke. "At least we won't have to worry about him sniffing around our daughters anymore." The boy had lived with several families since he had been orphaned, and many of the fathers were starting to be concerned with the effect that the handsome teen had on their daughters.

"What about the prisoners we captured?" The Captain asked, changing the subject.

"Shoot them all except for Major Carl and Sergeant Fulber. The boy can deal with them when he's feeling a little better."

"Yes Sir! That should cheer him up some."