The Fall of Fort McGaffre

By: Nicholas Hall
(© 2022 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

nhall@tickiestories.us

The dawn came up bright and clear, not a cloud in the mid-July sky to provide any relief from the intense heat as the small band of defenders settled in behind the walls of Fort McGaffre after being alerted there was to be an attack before the day ended! Endless days of bravado, strutting, bragging, threatening, and feints now were over. The day had come and they were ready. The enemy was well known to them since this would not be their first encounter!

Late morning, when the rallying cry broke out sending defenders to the wall, slipped into mid-afternoon with the pace of an inch-worm slowly working its way along a thin twig, maintaining balance by whatever means, careful not to fall, dashing itself to the ground or be picked off its precarious perch by a hungry Robin. They waited, with some trepidation, impatience, and restlessness, while the blazing, hot mid-afternoon sun beat mercilessly down on them and their position. The immediate surrounding area was devoid of any type of shade, although there were scattered tall, broad Maple trees a short distance from the Fort, causing the leader to doubt the wisdom of the Fort’s location since those trees could provide cover for the attackers. The only thing they could do was wait and sweat.

Their leader, Danny Walker, peering over the wooden balustrade along the top of the wooden fort, squirmed and wiggled feeling the rivulets of sweat slowly migrate down his back on the journey to his sopping wet butt crack and down his chest to his stomach to his crotch where the two streams met to congregate on his balls before continuing onward.

“God, it’s hot!” he muttered to himself, forgoing the temptation to reach down and dry his balls.

Looking around, he could see his compatriots were suffering the same fate, although Willie Brown, the smallest and youngest of his force, succumbed to temptation and had his hand down his crotch, reliving himself of excess moisture.

“Drink plenty of water,” he advised his small band of five other fearless fighters, “it’s fucking hot and you’ll need to be alert when the attack comes!”

They were, in total, six young men, ready to sacrifice all in defense of their position and honor!

“Yeah!” challenged Patrick Murphy, “remember to the victor goes the spoils, so we don’t want to lose, okay?”

Danny Walker marshaled his forces, in anticipation of an encounter the day before when the errant band of brigands (the “cock-sucking maniacs” as Jeremy Hamilton so labeled them), volleyed a challenge to the Fort and its defenders shortly after breakfast since the bastardly brigands announced their intention to attack sometime this day.

“Well, we’ll be ready for them,” Danny announced to Willie who just happened to spend the night with him, “for a little comfort before the battle,” Willie admitted.

Admonishing his small band of stalwarts to make haste, but be exacting in their preparations, ammunition was carefully prepared and packed into boxes and carted to the walls where they were stacked at each defensive position and ready at the sound of the orders from their leader. It was enough ammunition to last a frontal assault, but not a several day’s long siege.

“Don’t forget to watch your rear!” admonished Danny.

“Yeah,” responded Terry Clark, “or our asses will be grass and we’ll take it good and proper from the ruthless rabble!”

Satisfied, finally, their preparations were complete and all was in readiness, Danny declared to the anxious group peering over the walls of Fort McGraffre, “Now we wait!”

Shortly after two o’clock in the afternoon, Danny was alerted by the faint sounds of the gathering foe, now out of sight, but still within hearing distance.

Turning to Willie, he ordered, “Sneak out and see if you can spot them, who their leader is, and what’s he bringing to the fight!”

Willie scampered away!

Danny watched him skitter from tree to tree and shrubs, as Willie made his way toward the enemy encampment.

“He’ll have a good idea what we’re up against,” Branden Anderson proclaimed. “He’s clever, sneaky, and quick on his feet. He’d do anything, offer any bribe to find out what we need to know and the size of the ultimate weapons they might use.”

After what seemed forever, Willie finally reappeared, looking somewhat frazzled, but, strangely, a satisfied look on his face. Danny did notice, when Willie turned around to see if anyone followed him, a wet spot in his “uniform” right where his rear entrance was located.

“Well,” Danny asked, “what did you find out?”

Willie took a deep breath, reached around behind, scooched up his pants a little, wiggled his small butt, sort of readjusting things or spewing something out, trying to get more comfortable, and made his report.

“There’s a total of six led by Jeff Collins. You know him from last year, very well I might add, Danny. So that’s no surprise?”

“The others?” queried Danny.

“Well, Jeff is now fourteen, so the others are John Miller, age thirteen; Robert Morgan age fourteen, Dale Wallace, age thirteen, Don Owens, age thirteen, and Derek Butler, age thirteen. They’re older than us and are pretty confident they’ll be the victors, although I couldn’t see what their ammunition store held. From past encounters, we know they take great pleasure in conquering their opponents and helping themselves to what the losers have to offer!”

Danny nodded his understanding what now lay before them. He looked over his cohorts, taking an assessment of their strengths and best capabilities.

His defenders, including himself at age twelve, included Patrick Murphy, age eleven; Terry Clark, age eleven, Willie Brown, age eleven, Brandon Anderson, age eleven, and Jeremy Hamilton, age eleven. Fort McGraffre, located at the intersection of McGraffre Street and Fifth Avenue, was carefully constructed of four sheets of plywood, two on the front and one to each side, leaning up against sawhorses and angled with the slant upwards so any incoming missiles would be deflected upwards and over the defenders crouched behind the fort. With luck, skill, and cunning, they just might be able to hold out long enough for Jeff Collins to call a truce.

The McGraffre defenders were all clad in small, tight light blue nylon bikini swim wear, light enough to dry quicker, transparent when wet enough to distract the enemy, and didn’t require much effort to take off if needed in order to beat a retreat.

“Jeff’s considerably bigger,” Willie offered as he continued his report, “so he’s not going to be easy to handle.”

“Oh,” answered Danny thoughtfully, “he’s only a couple of inches taller, not very muscular, and probably ten pounds heavier.”

“No, you don’t understand,” explained Willie somewhat exasperated Danny didn’t see what he was referring to so grabbed his crotch giving it a couple of squeezes, “here and,” extending his hands, separating to indicate length, “much bigger! He grew in size since last summer!”

“How do you know?” Terry Clark asked, eyes wide with wonder and astonishment.

“I saw it!” exclaimed Willie. “His suit was all wet and I could see his pecker outlined under the nylon fabric. His dick was sort of laying down and pointing toward his left hip!”

“Suppose you just had to try it on for size- the suit I mean,” giggled Patrick Murphy jokingly.

“Nope!” declared Willie. “Johnny Miller’s!”

“Uniforms?” Danny asked.

“Like ours, you know nylon spandex red bikini briefs. Barely covers their cocks, I might add,” responded a smiling, obviously pleased with the sight Willie. “They’re a pretty fit bunch!”

Willie hesitated in his assessment, gained during his reconnaissance mission.

Noticing the hesitancy, Danny pressed Willie for more. “Okay, what else do you know you’re not saying?”

“Well, I overheard Bob Meyer and Johnny Miller, as I walked away trying to get my suit to fit right, something about Jeff Collin’s college brother. Seems like he brought something home with him when classes let out for the summer.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t know, but I hope he doesn’t join in the fight. I’ll bet he’s really, really big, kind of like a horse I think by the way he walks.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Danny acknowledged, speculating in his own mind just what it took to walk that way. “But, we have a surprise for them, don’t we!”

The rest of the crew, aptly held in the conversation with Willie and the physical features of Jeff Collin’s brother, nodded, and then as a group, laughed somewhat conspiratorial.

“Willie,” instructed Danny, “when I give the word, man the weapon and fire away!”

 *******

Jeff Collins was also in the process of “reviewing” the troops, so to speak, noticing not only the frontal bulges in their skimpy bikinis but a couple of the lads’ formidable “weapons” were standing at attention and eager to be put to use.

“We haven’t won yet,” he cautioned the two, grinning and running a finger up each upright standing, throbbing erection.

To the victor goes the spoils and Jeff intended to “spoil” Danny Walker good and proper!

“Johnny,” he said, “you know what to do when we begin the final charge.”

Johnny nodded, adjusted his crotch a bit, and grinned.

 *******

The street was quiet! Almost leery, as if even the birds knew something of calamitous proportions was going to occur. Suddenly, a dog barked up the street, annoyed and announcing the gathering of the young warriors intent on taking Fort McGraffre!

Alerted by the yapping and yipping of the dog, Danny and his fellow defenders quickly moved some of their boxes of ammunition (water balloons) closer so the balloon bombs could be grabbed and quickly thrown, vigorously and accurately, at the attacking force.

“Better get ready, guys,” Danny warned. “I think I can hear them coming down the street. I’ll bet they were hiding out in Jeff Collin’s utility shed; right, Willie?”

The hideout, the utility shed, was really a one car garage constructed behind the Collins house. The house had a two-car attached garage, but Jeff’s dad believed they needed a place for a small wood shop and a storage area; not that he ever constructed much from wood or had much to store in the shed. Never-the-less, the garage was divided into two rooms; one for a small heated shop with some power tools and work benches in it and the other as a storage area, containing a lawn mower and a snow thrower along with various yard and gardening implements and tools hanging on the walls. Bicycles were, during the winter, hoisted on pullies above the floor. During the summer they were in a couple of racks on the floor. Not only did the store room provide storage, but also provided plenty of space to entertain the troops or enjoy “the spoils of the battle!”

“Here they come!” shouted Terry Clark.

Indeed, they were; three stalwart young teen boys, dressed in their red, nylon bikini’s, walking down the street, their junk clearly observable wobbling and bouncing with each step. They quickly divided into two ranks; the front rank of three, with Jeff in the center holding the point position, forming a “V” or wedge. Directly behind each of the front fighters, was another lad, snugged up tight behind him since, strapped to the backs of the leaders, were old school back packs filled with water balloons, accessible and ready to be handed to the person in front.

The three front lads carried metal garbage can lids, held in their left hands, to act as shields from the expected bombardment they’d anticipated encountering- much like knights of old! The shields could be maneuvered then to protect their faces or their cocks and balls, depending on where the balloon was destined to strike. During the battle, they would be handed water balloons and use the shields to protect themselves and their compatriots.

“Hold steady, guys!” Danny cautioned. “Let them get close enough so we can pepper their balls. Awfully hard to fight when your nuts get smacked! Willie, Brandon, and Jeremy, aim high while Patrick, Terry, and I will aim low. They can’t protect their faces and balls at the same time, I think!”

 *******

“Make them waste their supply of water balloons,” advised Jeff to his crew, “just like we planned, okay?”

When they were less than fifty feet but not forty, he gave the command, “Fire away!”  and the battle was engaged. Jeff, Bob Morgan, and Dale Wallace unleashed  two quick volleys, hesitated just long enough for the defenders to raise up to retaliate, and quickly retreated, causing the balloons tossed by Danny’s crew to expend themselves in bursts on the ground or against the shields.

Again, Jeff pushed his crew forward, fired two more volleys, and stepped back. Again, many of the defenders balloons fell short but still enough to wet down Jeff’s crew.

The third time, tactics were changed. The two outside ammunition boys, shifted their shields and, reaching around, held the shields in front of the balloon throwers crotches in the front row. The only one in front who only had partial protection, was Jeff, but sufficient enough to cause just “glancing” blows to his particular precious parts.

Two more times Jeff advanced on the plywood fort being valiantly defended by Danny and company. Two more times he retreated, but the last time, he moved farther back down the street.

“Maybe they’re going to surrender?” Jeremy offered.

“I don’t think so,” Danny responded wondering what the hell Jeff was up to! He watched Donny Owens and Derek Butler leave the group and head onto the side street. They returned pulling two coaster wagons, each with a couple of boxes of bigger water balloons than they’d been tossing earlier.

Donny and Derek were joined by Johnnie Miller while Jeff, Bob, and Dale formed a line, with garbage can lids at the ready in front of them, effectively, temporarily blocking from view the activity going on behind them. As a group, they advanced to within twenty-five yards of Fort McGraffre. Far enough away so any water balloons tossed from the fort would be ineffective, but close enough for Jeff to use his “secret” weapon!

Donny and Derek each grabbed the end of a large elastic band with a slingshot pouch in the middle of it they retrieved from one of the wagons. They held steady while Johnnie placed a very large water balloon in the pouch, secured the pouch in his hands,  and began walking backward,  stretching the elastic band more and more! Taking aim, Johnnie released the pouch! The band, acting as a giant sling shot, snapped forward, sending the water balloon up and arching through the air, plummeting downward, and bursting on impact, whether it be on ground, boy, or fort! The first deluge released from the projectile, after landing in the midst of the defenders, not only soaked those nearby, but caused them to react with concern, diving under the plywood as best they could for protection.

“It’s one of those t-shirt throwing things cheerleaders use at football games to toss t-shirts up into the stands,” howled Jeremy Hamilton, so thoroughly doused his nylon bikini was plastered to his body making the material almost transparent, revealing the outline and features of his two and a half inch cock and small, marble-sized balls.

“I didn’t know Jeff’s brother was a cheerleader?” questioned Terry Clark.

“He isn’t,” answered Willie, “but the big-cocked guy he dates and gets fucked by on a regular basis is!”

With that, another water bomb hit close enough to Willie to cause his “willie,” now stiff to three inches plus, to be exposed, indicating his willingness to surrender and submit to being one of the “spoils.”

The bombardment continued and there was no way Danny and company could retaliate because of the distance.

The barrage of balloon bombs stopped!

Jeff’s crew slowly withdrew amid taunts of “assholes” and “fuckers” from the defenders!

“We soon will be!” Jeff laughed confidently in return.

Danny, concerned over Jeff’s confidence in a victory, pondered whatever it was, it was bigger than he’d anticipated and not Jeff’s hanging, flopping member. Jeff and his crew remained hidden from view, although it was evident they were just around the corner, somewhere near the Collin’s residence.

“We’d better get the power washer hooked up and working,” he announced to his little band of fighters. He watched as they hustled about making room behind the wooden fort for the equipment. Danny also noticed, since the wet swimming suits hid little, how “little” his boys were. Flaccid, almost all would have dicks of maybe an inch and a half to three and marble-sized balls, just what the older boys relished to fondle as they fucked their small assholes.

“Terry, help Willie haul the washer out here. Make sure the hose is hooked up and attached to the washer and the extension cord is plugged in to the outside receptacle near the garage.”

Still uneasy, as Terry and Willie raced toward the house, he asked Patrick,

“How we fixed for water balloons?”

Patrick looked over the boxes, previously full to overflowing, and started counting silently. Finished, he announced somewhat dejected by his inventory, “About enough for one good charge; not enough for two!”

“Better make them count,” Danny responded to the crew. “Aim for their balls.”

“And if they make it through?” asked Brandon.

“You know what to do,” answered Danny, “drop your suit and bare your ass in surrender and hope for one of the smaller dicked guys to grab you first.”

“Do they get seconds?” Willie asked now returned with Terry with the power washer.

“Only if you want it!” snorted Danny with a grin. “Is the ‘blaster’ all ready?”

Willie nodded.

“Then power it up and be ready to fire at them when they get close enough!”

No sooner had Danny made the announcement when he saw Jeff, at the corner, and his gang beginning the attack.

“Shit!” he shouted. “They’re on bicycles!”

Garbage cans attached to the front of the handlebars so as to deflect or stop any frontal attack on their faces or crotches, hanging on the crossbars were small bags containing water balloons, and lined up in a “V” formation, two to the right and two to the left of Jeff, they were barreling down the street, heading for the fort and its defenders.

“Wait a minute,” Danny muttered to himself aloud. “There are only five in the group!”

He had little time to contemplate who was missing and why since Jeff’s cycle charge had taken of the appearance of a calvary charge on horses. They were coming fast and there was little time to prepare!

“Fire up the power washer!” he commanded, “and fire away with balloons.”

He turned to Willie, shouting, “hit’em with full force before they can overrun us!”

With that, the defenders unleashed volleys of water balloons, most hitting or landing ineffectively.  Willie, turned on the power washer to straight stream and full force, and squeezed the trigger while aiming at Jeff, who was too damned close!

One full, albeit very short burst of water, spit out of the nozzle and the washer stopped, as did the water entering it from the hose. It was, as Willie shouted, as he squeezed and shook the nozzle and hose,

“Shit; just like an old man with prostate trouble! Can’t get another drop out of it!”

Danny looked toward the house to see what the trouble was and saw a grinning Johnnie Miller holding the electric cord and two hoses; the electric cord and garden hose was in one hand and the other held his very stiff and upright four-inch cock! He shook it, indicating he was ready and willing and the recipients were in front of him.

Jeff and company were off of their bikes and over the wooden walls before Danny could react in a final defense. Jeff was on him, both hands on Danny’s skimpy, wet swim suit, pulled it down, and gave him a light, but definite swat on his cute ass.

“We won!” he announced, looking around seeing his crew had de-pants the remaining defenders.

Fort McGaffre had fallen!

With the help of Jeff and the others, Fort McGaffre was dismantled and the plywood, saw horses, empty boxes, power washer, electric extension cord, and garden hose returned to the Walker garage. After everything was stowed away, the victors and the losers headed off to the Collins utility shed for the “despoiling!”

Danny, comfortable, face down on a blanket, Jeff buried to his sparce pubes in his rear portal, and pumping with a rhymical, swooshing back and forth motion, stimulating Danny’s erotic area and his own cock closer and closer to orgasm, looked over and noticed Willie spread frog-legged on his back with Johnnie Miller just finishing off with a shudder and a shout.

Shortly thereafter, as Jeff, feeling Danny’s bowels begin to pulsate in orgasm, unloaded his own love juice inside Danny, glanced over at Willie and observed Johnnie standing up alongside Willie watching as Bob Morgan was taking a turn up the magic highway. His attention was drawn away when he heard Danny ask,

“When can we do this again?”

“How about tomorrow morning after your folks leave for work? Stay in bed and be ready, I’ll come over. Oh, and yeah; ask Willie to sleep over. I’ll bring my older brother.”

***

The End

Thank you for reading “The Fall of Fort McGaffre.”

Posted: 12/02/2022