Scheusslich Boys Club


by Jason A. Andresen <Dpitzer@sonic.net>

Chapter One – wherein the club welcomes a new member.

Young boys can be terribly cruel to each other -- both intentionally and unintentionally. This story is concerned with intentional cruelty among a group of four young boys, all age 13-14. I was one of the boys involved and my memory of the events is vivid even twenty years later. Although it is not particularly relevant, the events of this story took place in Germany. Two of the four boys involved were German, of the other two I was American and the fourth boy was English. I make no argument that German boys are more or less sadistic than American or English boys. This story will support a view that boys, no matter what their nationality, are perhaps inherently sadistic toward each other.

Certainly, you will find in a group of four 12 year-old boys petty jealousies springing up. You might also find one boy who tends to be a leader. You will therefore also find one or more boys who are 'followers', who will do the leader's bidding. When the so-called leader is also the bully and displays sadistic tendencies, you have the potential for some interesting events. It's also interesting that some boys will remain in such groups even when they are treated poorly. I suppose it is the need to "belong" that keeps them there.

I had moved to Germany with my parents when I was six years old. My father was an exchange professor at the university in the town where we lived. He and my mom liked Germany and so my dad kept renewing his professorship year after year. I had learned to speak German easily. I don't even remember doing it. At home I still spoke English. In school I spoke mainly German until I went to middle school where mostly English was spoken. Even the German boys spoke English much of the time. Speaking fluent English was a status symbol among the German boys. The German boys in the "international" community I lived in tended, therefore, to speak English as much as possible – especially around their American and English peers.

I belonged to a 'club' of three boys. We had formed the club the year before this story begins. It was nothing more than a group of three boys who lived in the same university housing complex, whose fathers were all university professors and who attended a small university-run school devoted to the children of professors and other university staff. But that first year, I was the only non-German-born member of the club. Dieter and Hans were the other members.

Hans was our leader. He sort-of appointed himself that role but he was the leader type. He was somewhat a bully, always liked to be first in line, liked to have his way, etc.

At the beginning of our second year – during that summer – a new boy drifted into our midst. Trevor was also 12 years old and was from England. Like the rest of us his dad was a professor at the university. We got to know Trevor slowly since school was out of session and we didn't have forced daily contact. But we played sports together and it seemed natural that he should join our group since the four of us had so much in common. Trevor knew little German but was anxious to learn.

One summer day not long after Trevor and his family came to our little university community, the four of us – Hans, Dieter, Trevor and I – found ourselves in Hans' bedroom. It was the first time Trevor had ever been together with the three of us other than in a casual way or on the soccer field.

"Du kannst deutsch?" Hans asked Trevor. Trevor looked at me for a translation. "Never mind," Hans said to me in beautiful English. He turned to Trevor again. "I asked if you spoke German," he said. "You obviously don't. So, we will speak English in this club from now on. Jason speaks German well and of course Dieter and I do too but we also speak very good English. I better than Dieter but he is very good as well." Hans tended to give mini-speeches like this.

"Actually," Trevor began in his impeccable English, "I'd do with a bit of practice with my German." He was attempting to be accommodating, I thought. Hans didn't look at it that way.

"Actually," Hans said, mocking Trevor's very British accent, "we will speak English. Like I just said. Okay Trevor?" Hans was already establishing the fact that he was the leader of this group. He was also testing Trevor to see if Trevor could be ordered around.

"Right," Trevor said rebuffed but not wanting to press the point. Hans had won the first important test of his supremacy.

"Why do you want to join our club?" Hans next asked.

"Well, we will all attend the same school this fall, won't we?" Trevor said a little confused at the question. "We're already sort-of chums, aren't we?" Trevor seemed confused as to why anyone would question why he wanted to hang-out with guys his own age and socio-economic status.

"Very well," Hans said, "but you must undergo the..... Einfuehrung," Hans said. He looked at me to translate for Trevor.

"The initiation," I said to Trevor.

"Sure," Trevor said. "What exactly does that mean though?" None of the three of us knew the answer to that question since we had no "official initiation". This 'initiation' seemed to have been a spur-of-the-moment invention by Hans. Dieter and I looked blankly at each other.

"We'll tell you later," Dieter said, filling the silence and helping Hans out of the hole he had just dug himself.

"I can tell you this much," Hans said having now had a little time to think. "It will be uncomfortable. You will be paddled and switched." Hans was now coming up with ideas on the fly. "And you will have to undergo a full medical examination. You must be fit. We will look at everything."

"Yes," Dieter said liking the idea Hans had just pulled out of thin air. "You will be fully examined. You will show us even your private parts like your.....Arschloch....."

"Your asshole," I said, translating for Trevor as he looked at me.

"Yes, your 'asshole'." Dieter said, obviously enjoying the sheer sound of the English word.

"We will take your temperature too," Hans said. "Through your asshole."

"Ya, ihren Kackeloch," Dieter said enjoying the fact that Trevor did not understand his German slang word. Trevor again looked to me for the translation.

"He said 'through your _s_h_i_t_hole'," I said smiling, then turned to Hans for a ruling on the rules. "Hey, I thought we were going to speak English."

Dieter leaned forward toward Trevor and whispered loudly in his ear, "ihren Kacekloch....ihren Kacke....loch." He had become Trevor's German tutor and loved saying the German words.

"Do not worry," Hans said, "Once you have proven yourself and are a member you can take our temperature too."

"And switch our butts like we'll switch yours," I said getting into the spirit of things.

"I thought you said I'd be paddled," Trevor said. Trevor was happy to have found an apparent inconsistency in what we were telling him probably suspecting that we were making it all up as we went along.

"You were not listening, Trevor," Hans said with a very condescending tone. "I said paddle and switch. We will do both if we wish You have to say nothing." Trevor looked puzzled at this.

"He means," I said to Trevor, "that you have no say in it." I really liked this role of translator. It gave me a chance to show-off in front of Trevor.

"Is your club that good?" Trevor said. "I mean that I should just let you three paddle or switch my arse." This pissed Hans off. He slowly got to his feet and walked toward Trevor, a very serious look on his face.

"You should not make jokes at our club, Trevor. We may not ask you to join after all. We do not need new members after all. You should be more polite." Hans looked quickly at Dieter and me. "Halten ihn fest!" Hans said suddenly. Trevor of course didn't understand the German for "Grab him!" and so the three of us had Trevor immobilized before he realized what we were doing. Trevor struggled to get free but Hans and I held his arms tightly and Dieter held his legs.

"Hey, mates, what are you doing?" Trevor continued to struggle to break free. "Stop it, Hans!"

"Do you want to join our club or not to join?" Hans said in his not quite-perfect English.

"I said 'yes', Hans," Trevor said as he continued struggling. He then made the mistake of attempting to jam his elbow into Hans' stomach.

"Bastard!" Hans said, using an English word I had just recently taught him. He let go of Trevor's right arm long enough to punch him hard in the stomach. Trevor exhaled loudly. He stopped struggling immediately and went limp. I could smell the sweat that had broken out on Trevor's forehead. I grabbed the arm Hans had let go of and held both arms securely behind him. Trevor was not putting up any resistance now as he struggled to regain his breath.

"I have read a book on how to torture prisoners," Hans warned, although, knowing Hans, he had read no such book. Trevor had regained his breath but was still offering no resistance to the tight gtrasp Dieter and I had on his arms and legs. Hans stood holding his fist in front of Trevor's face.

"I'm not you bloody prisoner Hans," Trevor said. "Let me go! I said I'd join your bloody club didn't I!" Hans stood there looking at Trevor deciding what to do. He looked around his room.

"Okay, Trevor. Sorry. But you should take the initiation seriously." Hans said. "We will paddle you first, I think."

"Bloody hell," Trevor said. "Let me get my breath first, will you?"

"Once you are in position for paddling, you will have time, Trevor," Hans said as he walked to his bed. "You will lie across the bed. Bring him here," Hans said to Dieter and me, pointing to a spot next to his bed. Dieter let go of Trevor's legs and after a short push from me, he willingly walked to the bed. "You can rest now but first you must lie across the bed with you butt on the edge. To reinforce his directions, Hans grabbed Trevor by the back of his neck and forced him down on the bed. He was not quite satisfied with Trevor's position. "Move back," Hans ordered. "Butt on the edge." Trevor scooted back after Dieter tugged on his legs.

We all stood there watching Trevor as he lay face down, his butt over the edge, his legs on the floor. "Well? I said to Hans.

"He must be paddled to enter our club," Hans announced officiously.

At that time in Germany – perhaps still – there was a popular game called Wiffleballe. It was played on an outdoor court about half the size of a tennis court. It used a ball similar to a tennis ball but harder. The "rackets" were paddles a bit larger and more square-shaped than a ping-pong paddle. Hans now reached under his bed and withdrew a Wiffleballe paddle. He held it up proudly. "Das Paddel!" He held it out for all to see, including Trevor.

"Who wishes to paddle first," Hans said.

"Bloody hell," Trevor said again.

"I do," Dieter quickly said and he reached out for the paddle. Hans handed it to him. Dieter swung it back and forth in the air. "Yes!" he said. Hans looked at me.

"You hold his legs," Hans said. "I'll hold his arms." Hans walked to the far side of the bed and took hold of Trevor's arms by his wrists, pulling them straight. I got on the floor and took hold of Trevor's ankles. Trevor buried his head on the mattress.

"_s_h_i_t_! Stop it!" Trevor said.

"How many, Hans," Dieter asked as his lightly placed the paddle across Trevor's leather shorts.

"Eight!" Hans said to Dieter. "Then we will see. Fangst du an!" Dieter didn't have to be invited twice. He immediately brought the paddle back and then forward, hard on Trevor's butt. Trevor was wearing typical German short leather pants, common on almost all German boys during the warm summer months. The sound of the paddle hitting the leather was crisp and loud. Trevor did nothing for a second, then his entire body jerked as the pain of the paddle finally hit him. He said nothing but the three of us heard him as he took a sudden breath. Dieter brought the paddle back and down again. This time Trevor cried out -- a short, high-pitched squeal. He also pulled his legs against my grip and looking over the mattress I saw Hans tugging at Trevor's arms to hold them still. His squirming got him nowhere.

"Bloody hell," Trevor said just before Dieter landed the third blow. "Awwwllllllll! _s_h_i_t_!" Trevor yelled realizing that he was in trouble and that this was a serious game we were playing. The pain was apparently building up and Dieter's blows were not getting any lighter. I watched as Dieter lightly placed the paddle low on Trevor's shorts near his exposed legs. He again brought the paddle back and forward, hard onto Trevor's bare legs. "Awwllllllllllllll," Trevor yelled and really began twisting back and forth. I held his ankles tight as he attempted to kick free. The skin on the back of his legs where the paddle fell had turned a bright red.

"Halt!," Hans said to Dieter as he brought the paddle back for the fifth smack. "Von jetzt an die Hosen und unter Hosen herunterreissen."

"Speak bloody _f_u_c_k_ing English, Hans," Trevor yelled still struggling to free himself. He was now getting pissed – probably at himself for not putting up more of a fight when we first grabbed him.

"Sorry," Hans said. "Dieter and Jason understand what I'm saying. Tell him, Jason." Hans had a wicked smile on his face.

"He said the rest will be with you pants and underpants down," I said to Trevor.

"_s_h_i_t_!" Trevor said. "You didn't tell me that you were going to paddle my bare bum. I don't think I want to join after all. You guys are sick. Let me up!"


More stories by Jason A. Andresen