Strange Landscape

by Tony Duvert

  the littlest ones are jealous because the bigger boys prefer me because of my green eyes blond hair if they tell me I’m pretty I believe them I’ve even plucked my eyebrows to look even prettier I get gifts they kiss my face talk to me make me touch their cocks I always sleep with Robert now all the others also sleep in twos but all the time changing partners they don’t make love with each other like Robert and me I loved that and his face I love that too it’s even more beautiful than that down there they drop their pants and get into each other’s asses too much not lovingly like Robert not the way they do it they do it on purpose it’s even forced on us seems they’ll beat us if we don’t

  the gray house resembles a school from the outside yet there’s no school within we wait around until our dinner is ready we take long walks we play games and everything they tell us that soon all that will change we’ll have to work since it’s the country perhaps they’ll plant plants

  the director and his wife inspected the attic just before breakfast they wish to see the newcomer they haven’t yet met the child moves away quickly from the boy against whom he has slept all night long he doesn’t dare get out of bed because he’s still naked the director marches over and pulls off the sheets sending him sailing to the floor slaps him twice across the cheeks shouting Stand when you’re spoken to Marco you are to send this one down to me tonight for a good whipping immediately after supper And you will also come to see me tonight for your injections adds the directress Claude spends the rest of the day in a state of growing terror Marco comes to fetch him after supper the director’s quarters are on the ground floor a gloomy office filled to bursting with stacks of old newspapers piled high in badly tied bundles the room leads into another chamber this one completely empty except for a bed and some yellowed photographs of children thumb-tacked to the walls the director empties out the little boy’s pockets confiscates everything then yanks Claude’s pants down without a word and gives him twenty-four strokes of a dog’s leash he sends the kid out sobbing all the way down the corridor to the apartment of the directress a drawing room of sorts walls hung with rotting pink silk fabric that stinks of stale cigars she clouts Claude and orders him to stop sniveling immediately prepares two injections one on the upper left arm near the shoulder the other on the ass the child struggles to hold back his tears especially since the woman frightens him so tall skinny with long bony hands a face long and narrow as a string bean gray head nearly bald except for frizzy bangs over a bulging forehead she warns Try not to get sick for if you do we’ll only have to inject you all over again my little man! but the kid got sick anyway several days later out of sadness more than anything else and they isolated him kept themselves fiercely busy with him during many long weeks the cured child finally allowed to rejoin the others his lovely eyes sparkled no longer his silky hair shorn close to his skull no longer had its sheen

  each night they took some child down into the cellar they slap him clap him whip him strip him shake him break him choke him poke him give him injections enemas take blood samples skin clippings they drug him mug him fuck him suck him knot scarves around his neck force him to swallow quarts of soup of bitter vegetables thick acidy leaves so green and rough against the roof of the mouth they tear the snot from his nose cut his fingernails and stick beneath them metallic barbs they dress him in costumes too large too tight too warm too short pour boiling water over him run currycombs through his hair drip corrosive liquids upon his skull and into his eyes they force him to kiss their stinking wrinkled ugly beaks then they reslap reclap rewhip restrip reshake rebreak him going at it madly until dawn and if they themselves are able to come before he dies he is saved they will touch him no more never again it’s their one rule they will care for his wounds praise his qualities to those visitors who come on late afternoons and evenings to caress these ganymedes covered with scars whose expressions are colder deadlier than those of any dead man the dorm was divided up into

  the dormitory was cut up by partitions tall as an adult each supported on its walls carved étagères cupboards shelves of varnished wood and a lovely oval mirror an amusing little room for each of them a curtain shutting it off from all the others and you can decorate yours according to your taste they showed the new kid his a vase of fresh flowers had already been set down there on the night table they told Claude to lie down that he could go downstairs whenever he was hungry no matter the hour then he was no longer the new boy he learned all the words codes secret slang of the others and looked with scorn upon what had existed in his life before this fine house these broad meadows and that lush private park in groups they go out to do battle against the village kids the children of those peasants are much fewer in number

  those pathetic clods didn’t resemble the children from the chateau at all they were ugly dirty crippled badly built badly dressed and stupid besides they had fathers and mothers they didn’t sodomize each other evenings they never looked at each other nude when they masturbated they did it alone and slyly into old handkerchiefs clotted with snot they didn’t know how to talk charmingly nor even how to fight ferociously they had to go to school they never wiped their asses after shitting they went to catechism every Thursday and to mass every Sunday they ran after silly giggling girls in summer in the fields they never had more than a few centimes to spend

  the children from the chateau counted out their wealth in bills pretty colored franc notes not in pitiful centimes they kept those centimes all the same for sweets sodas candies spreading the contents of a leather pouch of small coins out upon the counter and declaring to the grocery store lady quite proudly Take it all out of this my good woman

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  in the dead still center of night my breathing suddenly stops when a skinny belly presses down against my face I shove its wetness off my forehead darkness heavy sultry pulsing with the stink of young boys several hands skimming trying to unbutton my pajama tops unstring the bottoms I turn over on my stomach bury my head beneath the pillow try to return to dreaming but a tidal wave of arms legs suddenly crashes somebody grabbing one of my hands placing it around a firm cock that drips mucus between my fingers legs crushed within the vise of two muscular thighs I yank up those pajama bottoms but somebody else has grabbed both my ankles I clutch the pillow dragging it along with me as a sharp chin burrows into a shoulder blade a plump body all round and soft and smooth rides sidesaddle upon my loins their low laughter three or four arms forming a knot around my neck so I bite down hard into a hand the taste the smell of semen fingers salty against my lips some tiny prick demanding entrance within my ear all at once trickling its snail slime down my cheek I pinch a piece of somebody’s ass digging my fingernails into other haunches suddenly pressing down upon me up down up down pajama pants torn tops ripped one of the sleeves dangling in strips I must be getting a temperature this naked wet skin forcing itself down upon my face grrrs hisses spits lashes out at bare knees toes toe jam growling the guys leap roll wallow swallow clutch follow disappear hips some smooth others bony pitch somewhere below my thighs a steaming armpit like a vise clamping around my nose tiny arm encircling my waist a pair of legs digging into mine forcing them apart and from someone else laughter furtive kisses in that blackness the storm outside suddenly breaking against shuttered windows stimulates them my own sweat suddenly evaporating cooling they don’t hurt anymore soaring high above me their touchings mingling with my own various parts of various bodies flashing slashing nudity silky soft playing over me like gusts of warm wind over tall waving grasses bolts of lightning spaced ever nearer less blackness between each flash turning bodies to blue to stone I’m no longer naked but clothed in a garment of shifting hands mouths bellies out of which soar unseeing cocks I roll down to the far end of the bed I want to put the sheets up over my eyes but the circle of bodies forms a collar I grab onto links of its fleshy chain refusing to let go biting into limbs cocks arms spitting on alre
ady fluid skins and slippery muscles skitter beneath like mice under a carpet imprisoning me within a cage of stinking crotches and sour milkstained breaths drowning choking under all these pricks swinging testicles caressing my cheeks my flanks my own sex nothing left to do but die beating against these bars so thick fleshy dripping suddenly my prison opens wide as a bolt of lightning slashes followed by thunder crashes I get up and run to the window flinging wide the shutters breathing in deeply but they’ve followed me here too and I can make them out still cocks glistening eyes too in that humid darkness

  the garden emits an odor of rain leafy branches floating the air electric tingling crackling with thousands of prickles hurtling down into it I was able to put on knee breeches and sandals first before the others come galloping after I hurl myself headlong into the shrubbery where night will hide me

  after the noon meal always a siesta it was very hot they were not forced to sleep but they had to remain quiet speak softly not fight a dozen or so of the older guys always gather together beside a window whose shutters are shut tight against the heat the sun devours each slat of metal flames horizontal white yellow slavering oozing they huddle close whispering look over their shoulders chase away the younger uninitiated streaks of light slashing the chiaroscuro of bodies that seem in the sultry silence hardly to move at all heads bending closely together at times diverging these shimmering slats of shutters hurling upon their golden bodies slivers of patterns of broken mirror reflections turning flashing angular jagged light moving incandescent naked bodies hair catching fire and blazing forearms still smooth as peach fuzz and something someone in the center of that stillness Simon their leader jerking off above a tooth-glass he lets forth a huge glaucous jet then others more brief the boys laugh want to vomit finally Simon hands the receptacle to his neighbor who masturbates in turn ejaculating crouching down over the glass in order not to lose one drop the glass circulating from hand to hand little by little filling with globules dancing melting candle wax boils that burst like far-off flights of doves caught in sticky nets stretched stringy between the spout-holes of young cocks and the rim of the glass thick gouts shaken forth with sometimes trembling hands and when each boy has shot his load Simon takes the glass once more stirring the mixture of thin colorless liquids of white floccules of nacreous filaments the other boys looking around then breaking the magic circle heading toward Yann who sits on his bed oblivious drawing

  he sucks the hollow plastic cap that covers the chewed extremity of the ballpoint pen sucking the cavity of the stopper breathing in to create a vacuum and the cap clings to the tip of his tongue like some dark squirming leech he sticks his tongue out grandly then squints eyes crossing as he stares past his nose at it glance darting to the left to the right revealing the wet pink organ ending in a blue spike he pulls in his tongue lets fall the cap between his lips chewing sucking creating a vacuum once more going through that same routine for nearly an hour all the while drawing sketching never letting his spit drool onto those big white sheets to smudge the india ink Yann creates a sailboat a three-master with all the details he can imagine suddenly he sees an army of boys surround him quickly he stuffs his pad of paper beneath the bed he is collared struck pushed down upon his back arms outstretched to form a cross What do you think you’re doing huh? two of the bigger guys hold both sides of his head forcing him to open wide his jaws Simon sneers

  don’t complain faggot here’s something you’re sure to like pouring into Yann’s mouth the entire glassful of fuck the child chokes gasps swallows the wrong way coughs and calls out Claude! Claude! the sperm running down from both nostrils his face is splashed splattered with a luminous whiteness eyebrows to chin saliva snot tears all composed of that glistening fuck he wipes furiously with a corner of his bedsheet a horrible warmth rises up from the pit of his stomach to his temples and he pukes

  you are an extremely beautiful boy do you realize that? Claude nods he pulls wisps of horsehair stuffing out of a tiny hole in the silk seat of the antique red chair upon which he sits hairs black and curly cock hairs the man kneels before him like some ardent village swain he grasps one of the child’s hands he hasn’t taken off his overcoat he keeps it on no matter what the season

  you please me greatly Claude I could do a lot for you

  yes answers Claude in a muffled voice he is staring at a package wrapped all in ribbons on the console table the one with the curved gilt legs books probably give me your other hand Claude proffers a passive palm one quite clean the man kisses it softly his lips are thick and dry his long gray hair bristles around his collar when he leans forward

  stand up Claude the man seizes the child’s hips and kisses each item of clothing before unbuttoning it with great delicacy

  I’ve never seen this shirt before it suits you well

  they bought it for me last Tuesday the man always departs at six the child gives a quick glance at the clock on the far-off church tower the entire house is silent the antique drawing room bathed in sunlight smells of musty fruit preserves of moist wax of insecticide there are cockroaches Claude thinks of the swimming pool down by the river and his comrades who are swimming there right now or else playing football in the great meadow he will be there very soon too he will not tell them about the man for among themselves the boys never speak openly of what they do with their visitors in the various little anterooms of the chateau the man kisses Claude’s naked shoulders his hair his pale white infant’s neck and pressing down hard he lets his own face move along the boy’s spinal column yanking down the boy’s trousers and flimsy briefs with the same movement of one hand both hands plunging between Claude’s buttocks and then an enormous tongue this caress lasting longer and longer each time it is repeated and Claude despite himself grows hard at last he tightens his cheeks his anus opens and closes around that tongue that seems so obstinate and unconsciously his hand grips his own sex twists it shoves it up against his thigh and clenches closing tightly around it

  walk over to the window if that’s what you’d like the curtains like those on a theater stage held open by a sash rich purple velvet gold braidwork Claude feels silly standing there completely naked except for his socks and shoes so he takes them off steadying himself against a commode inlaid with bronze the man remarks You’re so graceful Claude I enjoy watching even your most ordinary gesture

  tortoise-shell wood shiny with wax glows golden in the afternoon light as do two bronze monkeys dressed like musicians who slowly revolve round and round beneath a glass dome there is also a doll dressed elaborately Directoire style high bodice flowing robe her face too heavily rouged pinkly powdered arms dangling down spastically over the edge of the console table gilt curved legs resting against the partition that forms an angle with the tall floor-length windows and there on the wall between it and the door leading off into the billiard room a huge rectangular framed engraving paddle-wheeled boat water color smudged with sepia the boat itself sketched in thin threadlike strokes riding upon a storm of curlicued india ink waves

  the child no longer sports a hard-on the man seeks Claude’s eyes which continue to avoid his penetrating look one hand idly scratching a buttock the man down on his knees once more thick lips gobbling up both balls at the same time as well as that pitiful cock so shriveled the siphon of a clam folded in upon itself the man shuts his eyes letting both testicles melt upon his tongue murmuring indistinctly like some toothless old drooling beggar sweat flowing greasy drops that stream from the creases of his hooded eyelids the tip of his nose the furrows of his mouth the lobes of his ears other drops forming pearls transparent warts upon temples and cheekbones

  I’m so warm please excuse me the man says standing up taking off his topcoat the first time ever standing revealed in all his nakedness of a black suit made from some thick felt fabric he unbuttons his jacket then the top buttons of his black vest beneath

  that would be a real funny sight wouldn’t it Claude were I to take off all my clothes? Claude in order to keep from answering stares
beyond his eyes invents and projects above the mantelpiece the silhouette of a naked man gaunt yet oh so hairy body it covers completely the oblique and much smaller image of a man dressed all in black felt reflected in the oval convex mirror Claude suddenly experiencing a vague squeamish feeling he hopes the man will never undress so completely a real weirdo never so much as once opening his own fly to show his own thing he always treats Claude in a highly proprietary manner yet brings during each of his twice-weekly visits some present always something serious too never silly and he has even grown more passionate now that Claude is able to shoot forth a bit of sperm There he goes starting in all over again old Pop the Human Vacuum Cleaner Claude thinks as the man once more applies his mouth to the child’s asshole and makes him hard again by adeptly pinching both foreskin and balls

  your sex grows more and more beautiful each time how old are you now? he sucks upon each of Claude’s balls but too roughly as if crunching jordan almonds biting into overripe fruits with stony centers the pain causing Claude’s cock to suddenly become quite limp drooping downward again shaft breaking in the middle resembling a water faucet Claude answers Twelve trying not to gasp too loudly

  no Claude you can’t be twelve you were already that when I first met you

  oh then twelve and a half I guess a little more maybe

  six months plus what?

  well maybe I’m thirteen then

  yes Claude that sounds more like it

  wait that’s not quite no not until nine more days

  nine more days the man murmurs nine more days before beginning that sucking routine of his all over again the rug needs cleaning too Claude thinks