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Subject: Boys Guild Chapter 20, Gay, SciFi/Fantasy, Adult Youth, This story is a work of fiction. It never happened, it never will. The characters and locations are all make believe and any resemblance to any place or person, living or dead, is simply in the mind of the reader and totally unintentional. Situations and sexual activities of the characters are fantasy, don’t try dragon riding at home. The story is also the first in a series of stories about Kind Draviad’s Realm. Please let me know if you enjoy by email to nicholas6996 (at) hot mail dot com Copyright 2018 by Nicholas Nicholby, all rights reserved. Not to be distributed or duplicated without express written permission of the author. The author hereby grants the Nifty Archive a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancellable license to use, modify or alter and edit copy for clarity or style, reproduce, display, make compilations of and distribute the work. The Boys Guild The upcoming chapters of Boys Guild contain some intense situations and may cause trigger events. Please read carefully if you are susceptible. Events include acts of kidnap and imprisonment. Also please consider a small donation to the Nifty Archive. Think of how many times you have read the various authors pleas and think in terms of “if I had a nickel.” If Nifty would receive a nickel for every time you think that, it would go a long way toward defraying expenses and insure this free service remains available and free. The DONATE button is above the story indexes and anonymity is a foregone conclusion. No amount is too small to help. Also consider sending me your thoughts on this story. I really appreciate the reactions and comments at Nicholas6996 (at) ail Chapter 20 – Pulled and Plucked The Farrier was pleased but a little surprised at how fast things had gone with Jolly. True, there had been a couple of glasses of wine and then a bit of a looksee as the girl managed to get her few clothes off. He thought he remembered a slinky rub or two of the girl’s soft body up against him while she undid his shirt and the buttons on his trousers. Now that he recalled it though he didn’t think he’d had the opportunity to get those same trousers actually off before the girl had tipped him onto the definitely hard bed and proceeded to climb aboard. Seemed as if it was almost at the same time that he felt a hot wet moistness close around his lance and the girl was bucking and moaning and she did something which made his stones practically jump off his body as they unloaded a stallions worth of nectar. He knew it must have been up inside her, because as she climbed off there was a wet gushing out across his stomach. The girl had found a towel or something and with a quick, not so gentle wipe, she had him back standing with his trousers and shirt being fixed back up. His brain was just catching up with his stones as the brief Red Orechasm met another glass of red wine and the girl was taking him back in to the room with the weird chair. As he stepped in front of the strapped in boy he forgot to step a little sideways and the boy’s terrified wail and spraying tiny lance definitely broke the buzz he had been enjoying. Taking the pincers up he figured a job was a job and while today it was teeth he had been promised really good pay for the gelding job, especially if he just gave instructions and watched while someone else with a curious mind learned how to actually do the job. Well, a little boy piss was nothing at all compared to a mule dump. He figured he’d get on with it and then maybe get another crack at Jolly or even that sweet apron girl. While the room had been more or less empty Clipper had almost ripped every muscle in his body trying to move against the straps that held him in the chair. He couldn’t as much as wiggle. About the only things that could move were his eyes and his lance. His lance had decided to try and hide from everything and his eyes had momentarily shut to allow his brain to dream of green fields and soft breezes. When the door opened it was obvious the breeze wasn’t fresh. A blast of funny smelling smoke and loud raucous laughter popped his eyes back open. What they saw was not in the least peaceful. The pincers were back. The man wielding them too. Clipper’s lance poked out and sprayed every bit of its stored contents and more around the room. It didn’t help. As Clipper saw the pincers come up he managed a gargle of a scream but it did nothing except perhaps draw his lips back from the object of everyone else’s attention. Clipper looked around the room hoping for an ally or a rescue or anything to make this nightmare go away. All he saw was his mouth clearly reflected in the mirror. “Look Sweet-Pea, you can see everything this way. It was so interesting watching that first one explode into pieces as the pincers grabbed it. escort Then the blood dripping out, oh my!” The girl with the mirror smiled at him confidently. Clipper’s eyes were drawn to the mirror and he couldn’t look away. He watched as the pincers came closer and closer to the teeth. His mind cringed, his body couldn’t move, as they once again tapped on his remaining upper front tooth and then down on the lower ones. His brain heard the tapping like it was a cannon shot between his eyes. Then the pincer seemed to slip halfway into the mouth in the mirror. There was a tremendous scrapping in Clipper’s head. There was a grinding and a popping. The tooth in the mirror did seem to just explode as the pincers bit in and grasped a good hold. White flecks of tooth, wet flecks of saliva and red flecks of blood were all spattering around. Clipper felt his head yanked to the left, but the mouth in the mirror was yanked to the right. Then there was the backwards yanking to the other side. His brain briefly considered the interesting phenomena of why it felt one thing but saw another. Just as it thought it might feel the mouth forced up because there was a definite pulling down all inquisitive considerations were extinguished. Goo or not when the pincers pulled down and then began twisting the real live pain ran from the tooth upwards as it sounded in his head like a wagon crashing on the cobble stones. Clipper watched the tooth break loose, fall apart and the blood come flowing out. “Much better,” the Farrier said. “See? Didn’t hardly hurt none at all and there’s a lot less blood.” Clipper knew the man for a liar as well as a butcher. “Sure could use a shot of liquor,” the Farrier said to nobody in particular. Nobody at all paid him any attention. “Ah well,” the man said. “Sweet-Pea is it? Just another couple of yanks and you’ll be all fixed up and better. For a while anyway.” Clipper’s mad fascination with watching the mirror did nothing to make the next few minutes easier. With that damnable grinding, popping and exploding inside his head Clipper watched the bottom right front, or was it the bottom left front, tooth follow the uppers in a puff of white chunks and red froth. The excruciating twist and yank insisted in his head that it was the whole mouth. The mirror told him that that would have been too kind. One of the girls whispered to Molly and she motioned to Jolly to take the farrier in hand again, so to speak. Sweat-Pea watched as everyone swam through his tears and out of eyesight range again. He knew better than to even hope this nightmare was done. Fritjof was making his way slowly through the reception room at Molly’s. Slowly because that was by far the most enjoyable way. The girls knew who had money and who had power and all the other chumps were left standing with their lances up or out as each girl he passed made a play to be his date for the evening. Despite the pleasure of some gropes and rubs, both by him and on him, he was here on business first and foremost. Molly was informed as soon as he entered the door. She now came sweeping across the reception room and the girls were scattering for the corners. When Molly swept they knew to be out of the way. Latching on Fritjof’s arm Molly guided him not so subtly toward the back black hallway where she ushered him into a room of tasteful, yet spartan business efficiency. Pushing Fritjof into a black leather arm chair Molly had a shot of liquor in his hand as she reached across the large black desktop and retrieved a small stack of parchment. “I believe you will find the accounting correct. I would appreciate payment immediately. That was quite a disturbance your men caused and I have had some extraordinary expenses,” Molly traced the fingers of one hand down Fritjof’s cheek as he glanced at the parchment and flipped to the back page where the accounting totaled to 32 gold. “Why you thieving B…” he began but Molly’s claw like fingernail had begun pushing into his neck right at that spot where he preferred to be the one placing the knife. “Well, yes. I’m sure you have. How is our little Sweet-Pea? Recovering nicely from the extractions?” Fritjof managed to say without moving his jaw and thus his neck very much. “Just let me reach here in my pocket and I’ll get my purse,” Fritjof tried the bluff. That pocket was where he kept his special knife, not his purse. “No, I think I can manage for you,” Molly grinned as her other hand tossed Fritjof’s purse out on the desk. It paid to have girls with many skills Molly always advised when asked about business secrets. “Tell you what,” I’ll just keep what you owe and then have any left over returned in the morning. After all, you might choose to spend a little more this evening as a celebration. Oh, you won’t be finding this in that special pocket either,” Molly flipped her hand and Fritjof’s special knife was izmit escort bayan quivering where it was stuck deeply into the desk top well out of reach. “Certainly Miss Molly,” Fritjof was already plotting what he would do to the madam at the first opportunity. “Good, then let’s go see your little Sweet-Pea, I think the Farrier wants to talk with you anyway,” Molly applied some not so subtle pressure and Fritjof rose from the chair more to protect his neck than to be polite. “Be a nice boy now,” Molly let go of Fritjof’s neck but made a point of digging the point of something decidedly sharp into his side as she took his arm and led him from the room. Clipper’s face was covered with all the tears of frustration and pain, the snot from a nose that refused to answer any brain signals since the goo had been spread around his mouth and the spattered bits of white and red. His chest was a mass of drips of blood and saliva that went spiraling down well past his lance and stones. The lance and stones once again had decided to take a holiday and were nowhere to be seen except as vague bumps. The butcher was back and having a close look at the condition of the pincers. The condition of his own self seemed to be much awry with pants barely fastened and hair mussed and sticking up every which way. Clipper couldn’t help but notice the goofy grin on the man’s face and the noticeable unsteadiness of the man’s hands and ergo the pincers. His eyes still were drawn inexorably to the mirror and as he watched the shaky approach of the pincers to the mouth once again he tried another scream but nothing would come out. Then the mirror shifted and there was a disturbance of some sort. Clipper looked from where the mirror had been to where the pincers had been and saw them still in the hands of the butcher, but dropped down and out of action at the moment. Looking at the man’s face Clipper tried to look where the man was looking. Of course his head was still immobile and he couldn’t see anything. Then what he suddenly saw was perhaps even worse than what he had been seeing. The Boss of this operation had stepped into the room and was now standing in front of Clipper and looking with interest at the boy’s splayed open mouth. If Clipper had hoped for any reprieve it was obviously not to be. “Well, continue, continue,” the Boss said to the Farrier. “Looks like good work so far. Hear you want to talk, can do that later, let’s see how this is done?” Fritjof glanced at the man. “Yes Sir, right sir,” the Farrier was rattled by the man. Clipper looked for the mirror, he had to make do with listening to the real thing. The pincers came up and began their inexorable movement towards his mouth. They touched and then scrapped the last of the front teeth. The scrape echoed in Clipper’s head almost worse than any of the others. The grinding began, there was that strange popping and then the explosion and then stuff was raining down on his tongue and the Farrier was jumping back and saying, “Shit Fire! That one broke clean in two. That’ll be messy now.” NOW! Clipper’s brain was screaming. Now it will be messy? What the hell has this last lifetime been if not messy? The pincers came in again. This time the scrapping was almost interminable. The grinding was deafening. The twisting was excruciating. The yank seemed to have caught on something and there were several yanks and then several more. “Well, that side won’t come out, so have to do this side first,” the man calmly said. Clipper thought he would explode on the spot. Serve them all right if they were drowned in a flash of bloody guts, splintering bones and flying teeth! Oh so many flying teeth, although fewer than he would have liked. The new scraping and grinding and popping were mercifully quick. A yank and the Farrier was giving a sigh. Clipper dared to hope it was over. It wasn’t. “Now the other piece,” the Farrier said. “Should come out nice now. Nothing to hold it.” Once again Clipper heard the unbearable and felt the unimaginable. This time though the pain was tremendous and he screamed as the tooth popped out and the blood came spurting down his chin and landed on his chest. He could feel it almost frantically running down around his lance and stones. On his tongue and down his throat the blood was hot, smelled fresh and tasted of whatever made a boy almost always lick a fresh flesh wound. “Opps, guess the Apothecary’s tincture is wearing off,” the Farrier said to no one in particular. Clipper eyes opened up just in time to see The Thing come bursting through the door and right past everyone to stand next to The Boss. Molly was loath to be pushed aside until she felt the chilling cold of the monster. Everyone else felt it too and suddenly there was a mad dash to get out of the room. “Boss, Mr. Fritjof sir,” The Thing was strangely obsequious izmit sınırsız escort as he whispered. “I just heard, the ship was taken some time ago by the Navy. The crew is being interrogated now.” “Ah, yes. Well good job all,” Fritjof was saying to the almost empty room as a whole. “Have to go now, pressing business. Take care!” And The Thing and The Boss disappeared out into the night via the back door. Tomas, Cobar and Zekial had been watching the front door of Molly’s Red Door House of Profane Orechasm and trying to figure out what they could do to find out what was going on inside. As they saw the tall dark cloaked figure simply push the giant doormen aside and storm inside Cobar had taken the lead and grabbed the other two by the arm and they swept inside right behind that Thing. Everything was a riot of confusion in the Reception Hall and Cobar just kept following the cloak down a red hall then down a black hall and into a room. Watching the Thing move across the room and talk to the man standing looking at the weird chair they edged around the room and almost choked as they got a view of Clipper strapped, agape and bleeding. Tomas almost spewed his dinner. Cobar gasped and Zekial acted. Before anyone could tell what happened, the Monster and the Boss had just swept from the room, Zekial twiddled his fingers at the Farrier and the man fell forward against the table and to the ground, the straps holding Clipper snapped as if they had been made of string and Cobar, Tomas, and Zekial holding Clipper were instantly standing on the parapet of the Wizard’s tower. The Wizard stepped right out of the air, took Clipper from Zekial and said, “To the workroom.” Cobar and Tomas blinked and found themselves standing in a room with many strange tables filled with weird apparati. The Wizard was bathing Clipper in a low bath of what must have been warm water. The blood was washing away and they could see that Clipper wasn’t wounded, at least not on his chest or stomach or anywhere the vast blood flows had been. The bar from between his teeth was laying beside the tub, Tomas could see that it was almost crimped in the middle. “Get me the green formula,” the Wizard said to Zekial who quickly brought a beaker of smoking green liquid. Cobar and Tomas watched as the Wizard poured some into Clipper’s mouth. “Drink, then use the next mouthful to swish around. It will take the taste of the blood away,” the Wizard spoke to Clipper. Clipper’s eyes were unfocused but he must have heard because he swallowed and then swished and swallowed again. “He will live,” the Wizard said to the boys. “He needs rest and quiet. Zekial, take him to the tower bedroom.” Zekial took Clipper from the Wizard’s arms and as Cobar blinked they disappeared. The Wizard turned to the boy’s, “Tell me what you can.” They began a long and often circular telling. Back at Molly’s The Thing and Fritjof had been quick and fortunate. They had made it out the back door. Everyone else in Molly’s suddenly found themselves trapped. No door or window would let them pass. A few desperate merchants and high Guild members had even tried to batter a new opening out to the street and one to the alley. Still no one could pass. After the reality of the situation set in the bar was plundered and the girls did an even more brisk business although no one was sure what the morning would bring or if anyone was actually paying. Zekial laid Clipper on the bed and twiddled his fingers at a small table. The green smoking liquid beaker appeared and Zekial held it to Clipper’s lips again. Clipper tried to drink but his tongue and lips were not completely cooperating and the gap where the bottom front teeth had been made a convenient escape path for the liquid. “Dash it,” Zekial muttered. The liquid ran back upwards and jumped back in the beaker. Zekial put it down and laid Clipper against the pillows. “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere. I’ll get Jaxx.” Before Clipper could protest Zekial was gone. Clipper’s mind was swirling with the furor of the rescue, the warmth and safety of the bath washing away the nightmare although it wasn’t really gone. Every time Clipper’s tongue moved it seemed to find the ginormous craters where so recently teeth had been. Clipper was a mass of contradictory feelings. He would kill that Farrier. How could he let Jaxx see him like this? Everyone would point at his mouth and whisper about the boy with the missing teeth. What if The Boss came back? What if The Thing found him? His head was splitting, his eyes were heavy, the green drink was warm in his tummy, he couldn’t stay awake. He was not going anywhere. It might have seemed a long time but it was really only moments. Zekial had found Jaxx sitting at the Boy’s Cafe nervously waiting for Tomas or anyone with any news. Zekial had taken his hand and said, “He’s safe. Come.” Jaxx was suddenly looking down at Clipper asleep in the soft bed of the Wizard’s Tower. He threw off his shirt and trousers and crawled into the bed beside the boy. He felt his own tension release and he was soon sleeping with his arms around his special friend.

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