James Bond's Boyhood Adventures 9

By Pueros

(With thanks again to Erik, whose imaginative mind is behind some of the descriptions in this saga.)

Chapter 9 – Radios

(Jersey, Channel Islands, November 1940)

James, John, David and Moneypenny were as usual together when they left school one evening. It was early November and already quite gloomy, as well as chilly. However, this had not prevented someone unexpected and unwelcome from waiting for one of their number.

The Wehrmacht guard, whom Moneypenny had fooled and then attacked outside the military transport compound two months earlier, was standing close to the main school gate as the many pupils departed for their homes. He advanced towards the young foursome as soon as he spied the 13 years old redhead.

The four boys noticed, and were alarmed at, the guard’s approach. “Should we run?” whispered David. “No, that would be too suspicious,” James answered, equally furtively, “so act normally, as if we don’t care.” However, the boys’ display of nonchalance was to no avail, as the soldier hurried to overtake them and then grabbed Moneypenny by the arm. The man originally knew nothing of the English language but had picked up some words during his time on the island and now used some of them, although he was sure that the young person he was addressing knew German quite well.

“We need speak,” the guard said in broken English, with a heavy Teutonic accent, to the halted and fearful Moneypenny. “Why?” the red-haired boy enquired, not unreasonably, his arm still held firmly by the soldier. “Private,” was the German’s one-word reply.

“I don’t think so,” Moneypenny responded whilst trying fruitlessly to extricate himself from the guard’s grip. However, the boy was persuaded to change his mind when the soldier quietly retorted “But I know it was you dressed as female!” The 13 years old looked the man in the eyes, saw his confident determination, and then glanced back at his alarmed companions before announcing with surface calmness, although nervous tension was secretly churning his stomach, “I won’t be a minute!”

“Are you sure?” asked James, as Moneypenny began to be led by the guard to a quiet alleyway nearby, and he received a positive nod and a supposedly reassuring wink from his red-headed friend in reply.

“Please let me go and tell me what you want,” Moneypenny defiantly requested of the guard, as their secluded destination was reached, “as I assure you that I’ve never been dressed as a female.” Unfortunately, the soldier dismissed the boy’s protestation of innocence by declaring in German “Don’t lie to me. I know it was you and that you speak my language quite well too. If you don’t co-operate, I’ll pass on my suspicions to the S.S., explaining my sudden realisation as delayed recall. I’m sure that their particular methods will elicit the truth from you, including the identity of your co-saboteurs. Then, you’ll all really be in trouble!” The 13 years old had already recognised that he was in serious trouble and pondered his options for a moment, wondering whether to try to continue to deny involvement. It was again the look in the man’s eyes that persuaded him that such a course would be useless.

“Tell me what you want,” Moneypenny asked once more, but in German and with brave defiance now replaced by wary submission. The guard smirked, let go of the boy’s arm and replied “That’s better. You’ll find co-operating with me is best for all concerned.” “Depends what you mean by ‘co-operating’, as I’m no collaborator,” the 13 years old retorted. The soldier, maintaining his grin, responded “Don’t worry, I don’t want you to betray anyone and we’ll be very discreet!”

“Discreet? What do you mean by discreet? What do you want?” the puzzled Moneypenny enquired.

“I want you,” declared the guard, “or rather your body, dressed as a girl!” The soldier then moved his hand to the front of Moneypenny’s school shorts and began gently to feel the boy’s hidden genitals. The young recipient of these unexpected manual attentions was deeply shocked but made no effort to resist, as his cock quickly became hard.

(Dinard, Brittany, France, same time)

Fortunately for Jean and his fellow resistance captives, there was a delay in arranging their transport to a German concentration camp. They were therefore kept in dark dank cells in the basement of Gestapo headquarters until this logistical problem was overcome.

The group, comprising men and women in their twenties, as well as the 16 years old youth, was also fortunate in that not all of their captors were cruelly inhuman like Blofeld junior and senior. One of the new junior Gestapo officers, an Untersturmfuhrer, was already sufficiently disgusted at the methods indulged in by his superiors to repress local resistance that he had requested a transfer to the military. This young man had arranged for an army medic to attend the French prisoners to try to help them recover from their appalling injuries.

Neither the Untersturmfuhrer nor the medic had seen such horrific wounds previously. All of the women had been raped many times and there was an unspoken suspicion that the youth had been as well. Most had had some digits broken or crushed and teeth extracted. All displayed whip marks and other signs of severe beating all over their bodies, as well as freshly applied brands. Several had one or both nipple papillas missing. However, it was the 16 years old boy’s scrotum, crudely emptied of its contents, which most disgusted the two young Germans.

The medic tried his best to patch up the group’s physical wounds, given the limited resources he could acquire for the purpose, but believed that he could do nothing for the undoubted mental scars, at least until he talked about the horrors to a close friend. The latter, a young Wehrmacht corporal in the transport corps was, by apparent coincidence, eventually charged with driving the lorry that would take the bound French prisoners to the railway sidings, where they were to be loaded into a cattle wagon for transport to their sad destiny in Germany. The vehicle was to be accompanied by two armed motorcycle outriders for security, although most of those being guarded were still in no real state to attempt escape.

The corporal managed to arrange, with apparent humanity, to be accompanied also by the medic, who sat alongside him in the driver’s cabin of the lorry. The journey to the railway station should not have taken much time but an attempt was made to cut the length even more by taking a short cut, along a narrow muddy path and through some woods.

The motorcycle outriders had been warned of the lorry driver’s intent but were still puzzled at the route taken, believing that it extended rather than curtailed the trip. Their bafflement was compounded when the larger four-wheeled vehicle came to a stop in a clearing in the middle of the wood and they saw the Wehrmacht corporal disembark from his cabin, pistol in hand, accompanied by the unarmed medic.

The two motorcyclists had themselves come to a halt side-by-side and one of them asked the lorry driver “What’s up?” The pair received bullets in the middle of their temples in response. The Wehrmacht corporal then pointed his gun at the young medic’s head and fired.

(Jersey, Channel Islands, one week later)

Moneypenny had borrowed his female cousin’s school uniform again, as well as some items from his own school’s drama stores. The boy was now looking at himself in a mirror in his own bedroom and liked what he saw, causing his already hard cock, confined by a pair of girl’s navy blue knickers, to throb. He then climbed out of the window, shimmied down the nearby drainpipe, readjusted his apparel to its former feminine perfection and began to make his way to the place where the Wehrmacht guard would be waiting for him. It was a moonlit November night but, thankfully for the purpose at hand, cool rather than cold.

As Moneypenny proceeded towards the secret liaison, he had to adjust his knickers on several occasions to prevent his rampant cockhead from escaping from under the tight navy blue cover, such was his excitement at what was to happen. This had easily swamped any nervousness or guilt, either in respect of the imminent sexual act he was to be party to or the fact that he was consorting with the enemy. The former was a long-held dream of his, especially in this attire, and his conscience was clear in respect of the latter, for he had been successfully blackmailed, a circumstance he now did not find unpleasant.

The Wehrmacht guard had been unable to keep Moneypenny’s appearance in girl’s clothing out of his mind for long during the past couple of months. He found the vision very alluring, encouraging him to masturbate many times with the delectable form of the boy/girl at the forefront of his consciousness. The man generally preferred girls to boys but was happy to enjoy the latter when the former was not available. Unfortunately, neither had been available to him since his arrival on Jersey, such was the local population’s coolness towards the occupying forces. The soldier had therefore decided to take positive action to alleviate his desperate sexual needs by blackmailing the young saboteur, who offered him the prospect of the best of both feminine and masculine worlds.

It was past both Moneypenny’s bedtime and curfew but this did not stop the boy advancing carefully along the dark pathway that crossed the park near to his house in the village of St. Aubin. As he approached the little woodland that surrounded the park lake, a uniformed man stepped out from the shadows. However, the 13 years old’s progress did not falter.

“Hello, Helmut,” said Moneypenny, in German and with a deliberate convincing female affectation, as he came close to his Wehrmacht blackmailer. Like the boy’s, the man’s cock was already rigid just at the thought of what was to happen and he now had to bring all of his bodily restraint to the fore to prevent instant despoilment of his underpants at the moonlit sight before him.

“Hello, Marlene,” Helmut replied, using the feminine German name he had selected for his imminent young transvestite paramour whilst extending his arms to Moneypenny. The boy paused for a moment but a sense of sacrificial duty, considerably enhanced by eager ardour, soon overcame his doubts and he ran forward into the German’s clutches.

Helmut wrapped his arms around Moneypenny, the top of whose head only reached the middle of his manly uniformed chest. The Wehrmacht soldier looked down into the boy’s beautiful sensuous eyes, sparkling in the moonlight, and lowered his mouth to kiss the inviting rosy lips below.

Moneypenny closed his eyes as lips were joined in the man’s embrace. The boy’s whole body tingled in delight as the prolonged passionate kiss proceeded and he felt the man’s hands disappear under his pleated skirt and begin to fondle his bottom. Meanwhile, the 13 years old’s knickers gave up the uneven struggle to contain his rampant cock, whose engorged head started to emerge into the shadows through a widening gap between the side of the skimpy underwear and his upper inside leg.

It was not long before man and boy had disappeared into the trees, from where rustling sounds emerged as impassioned foreplay and then copulation was indulged.

(Dinard, Brittany, France, same time)

“Come back to bed,” Jean requested, “I’m missing you already!”

The handsome young man, whom the 16 years old French youth now knew to be neither German nor a member of the Wehrmacht, turned from the window, where he had been looking at the moon in post-coitus reverie. The beautiful naked Jean was staring at him with a sweet smile adorning his gorgeous face. “Can we make love again,” the boy asked, “or are you not up to it?”

The young man, also currently nude, had been amazed at Jean’s transformation since the rescue of his group from a fate worse than death. It seemed that the fact that the movement had been introduced to a British special forces’ infiltrator, who had promised to help them re-establish effective resistance and secure revenge for what had occurred, had reinvigorated the youth from deeply anguished eunuch, resigned to his dreadful fate, to confident determined fighter.

The whole process seemed to have been considerably assisted by Jean not only noticing his rescuer’s sexual interest in him, badly disguised despite his espionage training, but also seducing the young man, who had been unable to prevent himself from succumbing to the youth’s proffered charms. The 16 years old had never considered himself homosexual, although he appreciated male beauty, and had undertaken the seduction as the only way he knew to express proper thanks. However, his lover had taken so much care and consideration when sodomising him that, after the initial discomfort, he had thoroughly enjoyed the experience, as his prostrate was expertly manoeuvred into pleasurable play.

The young man had at first thought that he had hurt Jean, despite his caution, when the youth’s copious tears began to flow whilst he was simultaneously impregnating the 16 years old’s rectum for the first time. However, he was gladly disillusioned when the young eunuch reassured him that the tears were of joy, as, after the loss of his balls, he had thought that he would never again enjoy sexual pleasure. He too was pleased to be disillusioned in respect of an incorrect assumption.

The young man returned Jean’s smile and returned to the double bed, with his flaccid cock already hardening at the thought of further delicious lovemaking with the wondrous youth. As he proceeded, he passed the radio placed on the dressing table and on which he had just transmitted to London his intent to re-establish a local resistance cell, one that this time, hopefully, would not contain a traitor. He appreciated that he would not be able to send too many messages from here before relocating or the Germans would track him down using their triangularisation techniques and equipment.

Jean’s broken fingers and toes had mended, thanks to the kind medic, the one missing tooth Blofeld had extracted was not visible, even with the 16 years old’s broadest smile, and the signs of his vicious beating had disappeared. The small round brand marks displayed neatly in the middle of each of the boy’s sublime buttocks also actually added to the allures of his superb rear curvature.

Jean’s circumcision wound and empty scrotum had been nicely tidied up by the medic, so that the new eunuch’s amended genitalia were restored to being a very pleasant vision. As the boy and the young man began to make love for the third time that evening, the latter thought how lucky he was for the evil Teutonic Oberjunker had failed to destroy this supreme example of youthful Gallic splendour.

The young man had regretted having to shoot the medic. However, the flesh wound created on the side of the head of his fellow special forces’ infiltrator made it look as if he was an innocent victim of the attack by resistance partisans. He could therefore resume his covert operations after double-checking the welfare of the French prisoners, whilst the Wehrmacht lorry driver, supposedly abducted along with his vehicle, and undoubtedly later quietly murdered and his body furtively disposed of, disappeared.

In fact, the young man purporting to be the Wehrmacht corporal had driven the lorry to a safe house on a remote farm, where his vehicle was garaged for later transformation into supposed French agricultural wagon. The human cargo had been dispersed amongst similar local secure establishments, with those suffering worst from their injuries being allocated to a convent. However, Jean had insisted that he remained with his rescuer at the first port-of-call.

The young man, concerned for Jean’s wellbeing, had initially tried to resist the youth’s intent but, overcome by the 16 years old’s loveliness of both form and character, soon found his objections overridden. It was an overturned decision he had not regretted but only welcomed since.

Later, whilst they held each other in a light embrace, Jean perceptively told his lover “You’re not really British, are you?” The young man paused before answering in faultless French “No. How did you guess?” The youth smiled again, this time with a hint of glee at his successful observation, before replying “Two things.”

Jean gently took hold of the young man’s re-softened cock. “First this,” he announced triumphantly, “because it’s cut, like mine now is. I believe it’s rare for a Briton to be so altered.” The youth continued to fondle his bed companion’s penis, causing fresh growth, whilst proceeding “Second, I got you into bed too quickly. I would have thought that it would have taken longer with a Briton because they’re renowned for their reservation in sexual matters.”

It was the first time that Jean had confessed to seducing the young man deliberately. “Ah,” the latter declared with a laugh, as he began to tickle the youth in the places where he now knew that the 16 years old was most susceptible to such torment, “so you purposefully set out to get me into bed. You’ll pay for that!”

The bed now shook and naked limbs flew everywhere as the stronger young man tickled Jean remorselessly. The youth laughed hysterically and tried to fend off the offending fingers but to no avail. “Please stop!” the 16 years old screamed pleadingly amongst more, loud undisciplined chortling. “Only if you let me have my evil way again,” his tormentor responded. “Alright, alright!” the boy shouted and soon quiet descended again on the room whilst a large cock rode up an eagerly waiting rectum, previously well lubricated by much cum produced earlier.

Afterwards, Jean enquired “Are you going to tell me?” “Tell you what?” the young man replied, feigning forgetfulness. “Your real nationality,” the youth patiently responded, “and, if you can, your true name.” His older lover looked into the 16 years old’s sublime brown eyes and answered “The information’s available on a need to know basis only.” However, this did not put the boy off from pursuing his search for the truth. "But I need to know,” he suggested, “and no-one else will ever find out what you tell me.”

“The filthy Bosch won’t extract the information from me if they recapture me,” Jean continued bravely and truthfully, “because I’ll use one of those tablets you’ve given us all if they do!” The young man, still transfixed by the youth’s sensuous eyes, recognised, from the courageous determination clearly displayed within the gorgeous deep brown pools, that his young friend really meant what he had just said in respect of the cyanide capsules. However, it was more the irresistible eyes themselves that led to his meek surrender.

“I’m American,” the young man announced.

(Jersey, Channel Islands, same time)

Moneypenny had assumed the standing position requested by Helmut, hands leaning against a tree trunk and back slightly bent with bottom raised. The Jersey High School for Girls’ blazer had been shed and the eager German was engaged in pulling the white blouse up and out of the tuck inside the red pleated skirt, folding the upper garment in on itself to reveal the 13 years old’s bare lower back. The man’s cock hardened even more at the delectable sight of the delicious young flesh, now crowning the short vulnerable lower garment. If he moved his head sideways, he could also observe Marlene’s belly rapidly undulating as excited breathing intensified, the whole marvellous scene illuminated by moonlight filtering down into the small wooded clearing.

Helmut slowly raised Moneypenny’s short skirt to reveal the navy blue knickers underneath, with the wondrous curves of the boy’s hidden buttocks clearly discernible. He rested the bottom of the skirt on the lowest part of the 13 years old’s bare back, where it happily remained in place, before returning his hands to caressing carefully Marlene’s covered behind.

Moneypenny groaned again in ecstasy as the fondling of his rear resumed and his escaped cockhead dribbled yet more precum. His moans became even more impassioned when he felt Helmut’s fingers dive into each side of his knickers before gently beginning to pull the garment downwards. The boy heard the soldier gasp as lustrous creamy bumcheeks came into view before the sparse navy blue former covering eventually succumbed to gravity and fell towards the 13 years old’s ankles.

Hands now fondled Moneypenny’s bare backside, causing the boy’s fully released cock to quiver. The 13 years old then felt one of these hands pass under his slightly splayed legs to caress his nicely hanging and well-proportioned balls before progressing to run fingers up and down his rigid shaft, long for his age.

As these manipulations continued, Moneypenny felt Helmut bring his mouth towards one of the boy’s ears. “Tell me, Marlene,” the soldier said in German, “that you’re a common British slut who wants a good fucking from the superior race!” However, the 13 years old hesitated to comply, thinking, despite the unprecedented and distracting waves of pleasure sweeping through him, that there had to be some limit to his degradation.

Unfortunately, Moneypenny’s well-meant resistant intent was quickly swept aside when Helmut removed his hands from the boy’s body. The 13 years old’s uplifted bottom rose further, in apparent demeaning search for the lost pleasure providers.

“Tell me, Marlene,” Helmut commanded, as he unbuttoned the fly on his trousers to bring his desperate cock finally into moonlight, “or there’ll be no fucking. I’ll just wank over you instead.” The soldier had long before recognised the boy’s own desires, hardly believing his luck. He now knew that the 13 years old frantically wanted to lose his virginity, something he was happy to oblige him with, although now he wanted him to beg for sodomy.

“I’m a common British slut who wants a good fucking from the superior race!” Moneypenny soon heard himself saying. He was rewarded by the feel of Helmut’s substantial damp cockhead being rubbed up and down his bumcrack before eventually lingering above his anal aperture.

“Tell me again, Marlene,” ordered Helmut. Moneypenny could feel the man’s heartbeat invade his boy’s body through the throbbing monster poised to deflower him. “I’m a common British slut who wants a good fucking from the superior race!” the boy managed to repeat obediently between ecstatic gasps. The 13 years old’s body was then consumed by acute agony as his young hips were held firmly and another German invasion and occupation began. Nevertheless, Marlene’s cock simultaneously exploded, smearing the tree trunk immediately in front of him with young human seed.

Meanwhile, despite German restrictions and threats of dire punishment for disobedience, David and his family, like many other islanders, were listening to BBC radio broadcasts from London. John and his mother were doing likewise. The news of the continued extensive bombing of British cities saddened everyone. However, James was not at home, having supposedly arranged to spend the night with Moneypenny.

James was the only one aware of Moneypenny’s own mission that night, a course of action he had been unable to dissuade his friend from undertaking, not least because he had been unable to come up with a workable alternative to the Wehrmacht guard’s blackmail threat. The pair had dismissed the notion of shooting the soldier with his own rifle, captured two months earlier and now hidden in the Bonds’ garden shed, as neither yet felt capable of operating the weapon, let alone killing anyone.

James and his friend had also not told Mr. Boothroyd, mainly because Moneypenny declared himself to be too ashamed about the Wehrmacht guard’s sexual proposition to advise others about the approach. However, the older Bond actually wondered whether this assertion was true, as his fellow 13 years old seemed more intensely excited than disgusted.

James diplomatically decided to try to put his doubts and suspicions to the back of his mind, although he quietly and guiltily felt aroused by the thought of Moneypenny being forced into a sexual act. The older Bond had not yet developed a passion for girls, his body still experiencing the secret narcissistic homosexual tendencies undergone by many pubescent human males.

James only admitted to himself, usually when masturbating in his bedroom, that it was not only their pleasant characters that had encouraged him to make David and Moneypenny his closest companions but also their lovely bodies too. He now always positioned himself in the school showers so that he gained a close view of his friends’ nude forms, although he then often found himself forced to think of Latin conjugations in order to prevent visible penile arousal.

James also enjoyed the sight of the legs of David and Moneypenny, always happily revealed by their invariable wearing of shorts. He particularly liked the summer months when the boys would often be shirtless or attired only in bathing trunks. However, he had never taken his furtive interest beyond visual appreciation, apart from the occasional accidental-on-purpose brushing of a hand across one of his friends’ lower limbs or bottoms when the opportunity arose.

James had often wished that his friendship with David and Moneypenny could become less platonic and more physically pleasurable but fear of losing their companionship and being declared a ‘queer’ had prevented him from attempting actively to pursue the idea. His reluctance would have been very short-lived if he had known that his fellow 13 years olds shared his tastes and desires, each having a particular regard for the beauty of the Bond brothers.

Such considerations were, however, currently far from James’ immediate thoughts, as he was secretly spending the night with Mr. Boothroyd and not for sexual reasons. The heterosexual science master was instead introducing Bond senior to his radio, which he used to transmit information about the German occupation to England, the teacher having also been subjected to blackmail, but by his pupils not an enemy occupier. He had been persuaded to recruit the four young members of ‘Jerm’ to his covert cause in return for not being tailed everywhere by the enthusiastic quartet, desperate to be of assistance.

Boothroyd’s decision had been eased by discovering what ‘Jerm’ had amazingly already been up to and the fact that, in truth, the boys’ help could be very useful, although he proposed to ensure that their endangerment was minimised. It was a worthy proposal that was sadly to prove ineffective in practice.

It had been agreed that James would be the first to be introduced to Boothroyd’s various covert devices, some official issue, others of the science master’s own invention. The idea was that the boy could then pass on the instruction to his friends and brother.

Boothroyd was pleased to note that, as in class, James was a quick learner. The boy, on his part, was delighted to have just transmitted his first radio message, in morse code, to England.

(Dinard, Brittany, France, same time)

“But how can you be American,” Jean asked, “as the U.S.A. is neutral?” “Have your heard of the RAF’s Eagle Squadron?” was the reply, to which the youth nodded affirmatively. “Well,” his older lover continued, “there’s a similar secret group of Yanks in British special services, consisting mainly of linguists who know Continental Europe well. I speak French and German fluently because my mother and father came originally from Swiss Cantons where these languages were respectively spoken. My folks brought me up to respect all people, regardless of nationality or race. I hate what the fascists are doing here in Europe and travelled to England to offer my services in any way the British could find to use them. I had no idea that they would want me to join covert operations but I’m glad they did so, for I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.”

Tears of happiness formed in the young man’s eyes as he continued looking at Jean’s beautiful face. The youth responded “And I’d be in a concentration camp.” He then rewarded his paramour again for his salvation with another lingering kiss, before encouraging his older friend to continue his revelations.

“I’m sad that more of my countrymen don’t recognise the dangers posed by the Nazis and their allies,” the young man stated, wiping his tears, “for they’ll stop at nothing but world conquest. I’m sure that Russia will be a target soon but, I bet, back home the isolationists will continue to suggest that it’s none of our business and there’s nothing for America to worry about. They’ll probably be saying the same thing whilst German Panzers rumble up New York’s 5th Avenue!” Jean’s smile broadened at the joke but it lessened again when he noticed the seriousness in his lover’s face.

There was then a long pause, with the young man apparently lost in his own thoughts until Jean interrupted his reverie. “And your real name?” the youth enquired.

“Felix,” the young man answered, “Felix Leiter!”

(To be continued in chapter 10 - ‘Cells’)