The Boy Hunter
by Hentai Jones
BookRix Edition 2015
Copyright by Amé
Hentai Jones:
THE BOY HUNTER
When all the virgins are sold the young
boys are the only merchandise left!
The war was not over now by a long reach, the people were still hungry and frightened, and in this part of the country there was no work or money left. All morals were gone too, and the last thing that brought in some cash or exchange was sex. Sex with young fresh meat was preferred, and hunting juveniles was the task of the day. My uncle was good at it - he caught some very pretty girls with his clever silent tranquiliser gun, which weren't home by dark or strolled off their way too far. But as he told me: business was getting damn dry on this side of the valley.
We lived in a huge camouflage painted tin shed in the woods, unseen from the road and from the air. The dogs were all eaten by now and the rusty jeep was out of petrol since months. We survived on a dire diet of skinny rabbits and stringy wild turkeys, and our brew of cheep coffee was the most bitter in the world without sugar and milk! But both of us didn't want to get involved in all the senseless killing, were happy to stay away from murder and looting, but determined to make the best out of our secluded situation in the dark forest.
He organised me some rope, cuffs and collars, fine food, and one of his cheeky tranquiliser guns. I had used them before to hunt the wild pigs in the hills for dinner - and then he sent me away, far to the other side, to our abandoned hunting lodge in the woods. He told me to catch three at the time, and to bring them over at night - I would get half of the sales! That was a lot of trust in me, and I felt a stir of responsibility to the man that had fed and clothed me so far. I was still young, but the war needs the young to keep things going whilst their fathers get murdered in the fields.
The walk was long, the bridge over the river was bombed out, and the sandbag bunkers on both sides told of a violent and hateful past. I knew, that getting caught on this side of the river meant nothing less than a bullet between the eyes, but the endless war had awakened the hunter instinct in me, took the fear of death away and sharpened my senses to a level you could only find in Rambo movies! In my camouflage gear I was fitting into the dappled light of the forest like a chameleon, and I had learned a long time ago to move without sound.
The lodge was still a bit away, when I spotted some movement and colours through the trees: some white and blue like a school uniform. Oh - it was only a boy collecting kindling a bit far from home! Personally I have nothing against boys, find girls rather dull and stubborn! But he was so young, could have been my younger brother? His shorts were real short and showed a lot of hairless skin down to the maroon knee socks - I felt a tingle of lust! Anyway: this here was not about lust or love - this was business!
I watched him a while through the bushes whilst I steadily closed in on him. His blond hair was cropped short, his face soft like the one of a baby, and his pink lips pouting like the ones of an unhappy girl. Again a touch of tenderness tried to steer me off the path of duty - I had to prove myself and couldn't fail! And with a single dart right in in his upper thigh I just did that. The young boy fell headfirst into the ferns and as still as a corpse. Only his tiny bum stuck up into the air from the undergrowth like a beacon.
From there on I followed the clear instructions from my uncle, and in my emotional confusion I silently thanked him now. First: removing the dart and band-aiding the sting, then turning the victim over, preventing it from suffocation. Make sure that breathing returns to normal before gagging it. With some pantyhose I did that perfectly, and with another two I fixed his wrists and ankles. Pantyhose is a strong but lightweight bondage device that doesn't hurt and doesn't bruise, my uncle had enlightened me. Then I checked his pockets for knives or money, but with no success. I brushed dirt of his knees and dry leaves from his hair. He was a sleeping angel, and if I ever had wished for a younger brother - but no: this was strictly business!
After the predicted three minutes he opened his sky-blue eyes and looked at me - not if I was a predator, more like I was a strange new friend. He checked his bondage, and then he nodded. What a clever boy, I thought, in the war everybody takes any chance to stay alive! Then I asked him quietly: »You come with me without trouble?« He nodded again, flashed his blue eyes at me as confirmation. I undid his ankles and wrists, pulled the little brother up until he was steady on his legs, told him to pick up the kindling and to move ahead - and: that I would watch him!
He was such a peach: lovely legs, cute bum and such a demure attitude. Not for long we reached the abandoned hunting lodge. It was dark and musty inside, and the little brother obediently dropped the kindling by the fireplace. Being captive in a war is bad luck, but a long shoot away from a firing squad! Staying cool is the best way to stay alive. But my uncle had told me more than enough, never to trust anybody in a war, not even an unborn baby! So I shackled him up with the handcuffs at the center post and he didn't make trouble.