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Banged in the Barnyard by Fontenot LeBlanc

"I'm tellin' ya guys, he likes it!"

Noises of discomfort rose up. The shifting of feet, a clearing of the throat, the scratching of an ankle... those sorts of noises. Everybody, save two, were having second thoughts about being there.

"Yer funnin' us."

"Naw! Hand to god!" The taller mouse raised his hand up and made a crossing gesture on his chest with two fingers, as if he were actually making a solemn vow to god. Hiram giggled at the notion.

"Ya see?!" one of the other mice croaked, pointing at Hiram. "He's laughing! Ya'll are just playin' a game."

"We ain't!" said the leader, shoving the shorter mouse who had spoken. "I done swore! He's been doin' it to me 'bout a thousand times yet! In the fields! I'll sneak off when my Paw ain't watchin' an get it behind a rock or somethin'."

More shifting of feet. A clearing of the throat. The scratching of an ankle.

There were five of them in total, and they came in an almost comical variety of heights and widths and ages. Three Hiram knew: they were boys from his field, around his own age, whom he'd known at least by face his entire life. They'd grown up together, played stickball together, shared dinners at the mess, all that. The other two were a mystery, though Hiram thought he recognized them as being from the farm across the way.

The five of them surrounded him on 180 degrees, standing shoulder to shoulder, forming a kind of half-circle. They were far enough away that Hiram couldn't reach out and touch them, but close enough that they could see him clearly. Hiram was on his knees in the grass, sitting Asian style, hands folded in his lap. He didn't look at them. They, for their part, tried not to look back.

"Mitch, you ain't nothing but a tale."

"I DUN SWORE!" roared Mitch, the leader. "Ask Pudge! He gives it to Pudge 'bout as much as me!"

Hiram's cheeks reddened beneath his soot-gray fur. They were talking about him as if he weren't there.

"Right whenever his dad cuts him loose from the shoe shop in the evenings. Ever wonder why we don't see him much anymore?"

All the boys stopped and turned to the chubby white mouse on one end of the half-circle, eyeing him suspiciously. The boy, Pudge, anxiously worked his tiny little paws together in front of him, staring at the ground. Or, rather, at his gut, which was preventing him from staring at the ground. "Oy! Look at that! Ole Pudge done lit up like a Christmas tree on the Forth of July!"

Minus the incongruities in the boy's simile, Hiram knew he was right without even having to glance up. The chubby mouse had always been rather prone to blushing.

When Hiram would wait for Pudge outside of his dad's shoe shop, he'd watch from beneath the rusted old tractor parked on the yard. The boy would come out of the shop, cheeks flushed, sweaty, tugging off that little black apprentice's apron that was about five sizes too small for his expansive gut. He'd glance around and make off through the grass towards the dirt lane, as if heading for the catfish pond to swim. Then, right as the little shoebox store had disappeared from view beyond the wall of the stables, he'd hook a sharp 90-degree turn and head off towards the dilapidated old barn just as fast as his chubby little legs could waddle him.

Hiram would be there waiting. In his usual spot. Sitting Asian-style in the grass.

"So..." managed one of the smaller mice, fidgeting. "Ya'll are bein' serious?" "Like... for real?" asked another, sounding like he needed to swallow.

The boys' leader stepped forward, lips curling in a devilish grin. He sauntered proudly over to Hiram. Coming to a military halt before him, the boy lifted up on his bare toes. Hiram leaned in and the boy lowered his cloth-covered crotch down onto the bridge of Hiram's nose.

You could have heard a pin drop.

Even the crickets outside the stables seemed to take notice and cull their chirring. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Just four sets of widened eyes staring unblinkingly as Hiram's snout poked between the back of the older boy's legs. The base of the boy's tail swished across the tip of Hiram's nose.

After what felt like an eternity, someone spoke.

"Holey moley! He's lettin' him do it!" said one, giggling childishly. "No way! Ya'll really ain't funnin'!" Chirped another. "Perched it right there on the tip of his nose, like he's wearin' a hat!" Said another. "You don't wear hats on yer nose, Stupid." Corrected another. Hiram's little ears picked up the shuffling of feet. Although he couldn't see them clearly - his field of vision being occupied by Mitch's crotch - he became aware that the boys were circling around for a better view. One dropped to a knee right beside him, leaning in to oogle the spectacle up close.

Hiram's cheeks blushed deep red between the boy's legs. His vision was filled with the young mouse's bulge. The scents of Mitch's thighs and the heavy package draped on the bridge of his nose mingled in his sinuses, causing his mouth to water. Hiram felt five pairs of eyes sizing him up. His heart thundered against his little ribcage. He felt light-headed.

"How does it smell down there Hiram," asked one of the boys, chuckling. In truth, it was very nice. Mitch was one of his favorites. He rude, and never pretended to like Hiram for anything other than the services he provided, but something about him drove Hiram crazy. He worked in the fields, so every couple of days around lunchtime Hiram got to treat himself to the smell of sweat and tilled earth. And sunflowers. Tall sunflowers wilting in the noon day sun. "What else does he do?"

"Aw hell, this ain't even half of it! Watch."

Hiram felt the weight lift off of his nose. His snout was unsheathed from between the boy's thighs. He whimpered for effect.

Suddenly he could see the eyes staring down at him. He was encircled on all sides now. Some sneered, some looked on with revulsion. The others just looked curious.

Tiny paws fumbled at the pants in front of him, working diligently in the dim light bleeding through the cracks in the stable walls to undo the knotted belt. There was a cumulative gasp from the audience, who watched on in wide-eyed anticipation as events

"Lick it."

The boy's sheath sat atop a pair of gloriously weighty balls, dangling tantalizingly close to Hiram's nose. As if acting on reflex, Hiram lurched forward and planted a rough kiss on the midline between the two orbs. Then, one on each ball in turn, suckling at the delicate fur-covered skin with his lips, murring amorously.

The back of a hand swooped down from on high, connecting solidly with the side of Hiram's nose. Hiram squealed. "I said lick," the older boy growled. "Not kiss."

The side of his nose still stinging, Hiram whimpered. He wasn't surprised by it, though. Mitch had warned him that the show they were to put on might get a little rough. He had to take charge of the group after all, and what's a little pain if Hiram ended up getting everything he wanted?

Lowering his eyes, Hiram brought out his tongue and began pressing it against the boy's sheath, lapping at it like a popsicle. Mitch sighed, gripping a handful of Hiram's headfur. "Yo Pudge! You gettin' in on this or wut?"

Suddenly, the light was blotted out on another side as a large body crowded in. The undoing of a well-stretched belt. The shifting of a pair of trousers as they wriggled their way to the grassy floor. The smell of sweat and shoe polish.

A bright pink eye, wearily close to Hiram's, widened in amazement. "He's got your whole thing in his yap!"

And Hiram did too. Gripping Mitch by the base, Hiram had all but syphoned the boy's penis out of its sheath and was eagerly blowing it. His nose brushed the boy's pubic fur as he went all the way down to the base, delighting to find the shaft thickening and gradually becoming hard and full in his eager wet maw. With his free hand (the one that wasn't massaging Mitch's balls) Hiram felt around, found Pudge and began to jack his stubby girth. "We ain't s'posed to be doin' this," mumbled one of the foreign mice hanging back to watch. His breath hitched dryly in his chest. "Oh, we ain't supposed to be doin' this at all."

"I think it's neat," said the boy who had been watching near Hiram's face the entire time. He reached out and began to stroke the corner of Hiram's ear. Then he gave it a sharp tug.

"Ow!" Hiram said around Mitch's cock. He went to draw himself off so as to yell at the boy, but Mitch grabbed hold of the back of his head and thrust in, hilting himself all the way inside Hiram's mouth, making him gag.

One of the spectator mice who hadn't yet joined in spoke up. "Have you guys... err... y'know... ever..." he made a finger-in-the-hole gesture with his hands. "...yet?"

Mitch took a moment from his blowjob to crack a condescending eyelid at the boy, who was watching the proceedings with a solid red blush on his face. "Buggered him? Hell naw. That's gross. Pudge's done it a couple 'o times though." He closed his eyes again, grunting. "Ain't that right, Pudge?" Pudge, very much enjoying his handjob, only nodded.

"What's it like?" asked the foreigner mouse. "Oh Ronnie, don't," squeaked the mouse hanging back. Apparently the two were brothers.

"Feels great," Pudge wheezed. "He's tight."

"How tight?" pressed the mouse called Ronnie.

Mitch chuckled. "Thought he was gonna take my pecker the first time we tried it."

"Thought you said you ain't ever bummed him, Mitch," said the adolescent mouse digging his finger into Hiram's ear, giving him a wet willie.

"Err, well..." Mitch started. "Alright, fine. I may have done it once or twice before."

"Does it hurt him?"

"Ronnie, don't!"

"Who cares? He'll let ya do it."

Hiram craned his head to see if he could make out this new boy in the darkness. He could. Ronnie (which Hiram thought was a cute-sounding name) was standing off to the side. He had his penis in hand and was jacking furiously. The second tallest in the group and definitely the cutest overall, Hiram could feel the butterflies in his stomach doing barrel rolls and somersaults at the prospect of what was about to happen. Then he felt someone's finger disappearing into his nose. More than anything, Hiram wished that kid would leave.

Mitch grabbed the underside of his face. Hiram's attention was forcefully turned back to the tawny brown fur covering the boy's crotch, which was beginning to draw itself out and buck itself back against his face with wild abandon. Hiram did his best to create a cradle for the boy's dick with his tongue. Even with all his expertise, it was becoming difficult to stifle his gag reflex.

Suddenly, Hiram became aware of trembling hands on his rump. They smoothed gently over his cheeks before wandering to the valley of his crack. He felt the trouser button over his tail give, and squeaked as his pants were tugged down.

Panting all around him. Hot breath fogging the dimly-lit air.

Something brushed up against Hiram from behind. It was solid. It was nosing itself insistently against his back door.

And then, it drove itself home. All the way in.

"HRRRRK!!"

Fingers caught in the corners of Hiram's jaw just in time, keeping him from biting Mitch's penis clean off. "Hoy, easy! EASY! Christ bejeezus, if I hadn't caught him. . ." "You can't just cram it all in like that," rose a dull voice from Hiram's right. "He ain't a lady." "Crap, pull it out of him! PULL IT OUT!"

"Hnngn, can't," rasped the voice from behind Hiram. "Feels too good..."

By this point, Hiram was thrashing about and squealing, struggling violently to dislodge himself from the boy. But to his surprise, calloused paws reached down and gripped his shoulders from above.

"Nuh-uh - come on now. I promised them a show. Boys! Pudge, Donner, hold 'em down! Sweetcake, hop on 'is back 'an make sure he don't get up!"

With scarcely more than a moment's hesitation, paws shot out from the darkness - thick white ones and smaller fawn-colored ones. Pudge and the as-yet-named spectator (the brother of the mouse splitting him in half) held Hiram's arms. The smaller mouse hopped on the small of his half-nude back, digging his heels into Hiram's sides like little furry spurs, making him squeal harder. Hiram's face hit the dirt. Ronnie gripped his tail, slinging it over his shoulder as he barreled down on him, thrusting away.

"This is fun!" giggled the weight on Hiram's back as he yelped. "Ronnie, you're hurtin' him! We're hurtin' him!" "No we ain't," came Mitch's bare-faced lie. "He likes it. S'just gotta get used to it is all. An' he'll be beggin' for it."

But Hiram was practically screaming in pain. He could feel his insides start to rip as the boy's length hammered in and out of him. He wasn't big by any means - Mitch was much bigger - but having it all forced in like that. . . it was too much.

Hiram was thrashing now, clawing desperately at the ground, fighting for leverage, or to lift his back, or even just to move. The grip around his wrists tightened. The smaller boy dug his heels into Hiram's kidneys, making him want to puke. A pink-padded foot pressed his face down into the dirt. And behind him. . . the driving. Driving, driving, driving. Driving into his insides, tearing him up. Making him bleed. After a time spent sobbing in the dirt, the thrusting temporarily increased in intensity, and then subsided altogether. Ronnie sighed contentedly. "Hoo! That just about floats the cork for me!" He gave the two mounds of the boy's cheeks a squeeze, as if he was kneading bread dough. "Who's next?"

The fray looked at one another from their respective positions, tacitly ignoring Hiram as he sobbed on the ground beneath them.

Mitch looked at each with a stern air of authority. "One did it. We all doin' it."

Again, the boys looked at one another. They held their positions, but were silent. Mitch sighed. "Fine. I'll have a go. Move over Ron, get his head. Pudge, you're next."

The mouse's cock drew out suddenly. To Hiram, it felt like a knife leaving a wound. He could feel a trickle running between his legs.

A shuffling of feet. The foot on the back of Hiram's head was replaced, stomping him back down into the dirt. He felt a rugged palm grip the base of his tail.

And just like that, he was hilted again."HAAAAGHHH!!" Hiram shrieked into the dirt. It was like another knife - longer and thicker - had been stabbed into him in the other knife's place. Mitch gripped his tail - pulled it roughly out of the way. The driving began again, harder and deeper this time, puckering his insides, bruising his guts.

Hiram tried to get away. Not physically of course - had left him with no strength. He tried to escape in his mind - to be somewhere else, to be anywhere else. But that too was hopeless. His legs were kicked apart, and Mitch barreled down on him with his full weight. All he could hear were frenzied grunts and the mounds of his furry rump slapping against Mitch's pelvis.

After an eternity, Mitch buried himself in and sighed with relief. "Fill 'er up!" he called out, head back, eyes closed. "Alright, who was next? C'mon Pudge."

Once again, a dick was removed from Hiram. And once again, it was replaced.

At some point, Hiram must have fainted because when he awoke there was a different configuration of hands holding him down. He looked back, aghast to see Pudge tucking his slick and half-erect cock back into his shorts. Sweetcake, the smallest boy - the annoying one - had his pants pooled around his tiny ankles and was examining Hiram's worn and thoroughly abused tailhole, cradling his chin between his thumb and forefinger, seemingly lost in thought.

"So... into that thing?" "Yup," Mitch said. "Boy howdy," Sweetcake let out a woosh of air. "You fellas really did a number on his back door."

"Just cram it in already," Ronnie growled. We gotta be gettin' back to the field. If we're late for supper, Momma will tan me."

"Kay!"

Sweetcake drew himself up on tip-toes and Hiram felt something small being nudged into him. After having been violated for almost twenty minutes, he barely felt it. He simply hid his face in the crook of one arm, used the other arm to shield his head, and waited for it all to be over.

"Look at the little fella go," Mitch chuckled, elbowing Ronnie. "You'd think he was never gonna get it again."Sweetcake halted himself mid-thrust. "We can come back?"

Mitch grinned. "Sure. Whenever you want. I told ya, he loves this stuff. Look at his thing. Hard as a rock."

Hiram blushed, gathering his arms tighter around his face. He brought his knees together in an effort to hide his shame.

After a time the littlest mouse drew himself out. Thinking him done, Hiram went to rise onto his elbows - but just as he did, Sweetcake grabbed him by the curves of his flank and drove himself home one final time, eliciting a surprised Hrrrk! from the older boy.

"Whew! Kay - done."

The mouselet came down off his tiptoes, taking his underdeveloped penis with him as he retreated from Hiram's backside.

The eldest of the field mice cleared his throat. "Well, fun times Mitch," Ronnie grinned. "Do it again real soon, you bet. Gotta head back though. We done snuck out. It's in before suppertime, else we'll get switched."

The fieldmouse went to shake his hand, but Mitch stared him down. "Whaddya mean? Ya'll ain't goin' nowhere. I told ya, everybody's gettin' a turn." Mitch thrust his finger out at the only mouse who hadn't participated. "He ain't gone yet."

Ronnie's shy brother, Donner, stood off to the side, black eyes widening at being addressed. He had a grip on the tip of his tail and was busy worrying it between his sweaty palms. He fidgeted in place, looking back and forth from the frightening Mitch to Hiram's sobbing form. "M-Me?"

"Yeah you," Mitch towered over him. "You might snitch if we let you go without doin' it."

"I wouldn't snitch!" squeaked the timid mouse defensively. "Honest!"

"Oh come on, Don," Ronnie chided his brother. "Ain't you even a little bit hard?"

He ain't! I'm lookin' right at it. No bulge, no nothin'."

"I swear I won't tell nobody," Donner protested again. "I swear!"

Mitch crossed his arms. "Either get hard and bum him, or we're gonna have to make you do something else."

Donner's ears fanned back. "Like w-what?"

Mitch paused. He plucked gently at the whiskers on his chin, staring off into the middle distance, contemplating intently. With a snap of his long fingers, Mitch's face split from ear to ear in a wide grin."Oh, I got an idea."

Mitch grabbed Donner and lead him by the arm. When he got him where he wanted him, he brought a foot down on the back of the Donner's leg and the mouse went down.

Donner stared, horrified, down at Hiram's battered and badly leaking asshole.

"Clean 'im out," Mitch said, his voice a malignant purr.

Donner's eyes, round and large as saucer plates, went from the farm mouse looming over him to the loose, sloppy wreckage of Hiram's backside. The boy's pucker was beet red and mildly distended. One side seemed to have fallen in on itself, and there was a puddle of goopy mouse cum congealing on the ground beneath him.

There was no way.

"Can't decide?" Mitch asked. "Here, I'll help."

Donner was grabbed savagely by the ears. Before the boy could protest, Mitch had slammed his head forward, burying his muzzle beneath the violated mouse's tailhole. Someone cried out. Whether it was Hiram or Donner, no one could be sure.

"Clean 'im," Mitch growled through gritted teeth, having to fight to keep the field mouse's face mashed against Hiram's opening. "Clean 'im and I'll let ya go."The smaller mouse struggled as best he could, but there was no resisting. He was smaller and weaker than the farm mouse. Mitch's claws were pitting tiny holes in his ears.

Donner screwed his eyes shut. He began to clean the other boy's backside, shuddering violently as he went.

"Ho! Look at 'im go!" Sweetcake cheered. "Maybe he likes it," snorted Pudge. After a short stint of sniffles and wet slurping sounds, Ronnie finally spoke up. "Alright, alright, geroff 'im Mitch! He's had enough."

Mitch frowned but reluctantly complied, letting the boy up to a chorus of coughs and sputters. Donner had every boys' cum smeared across his mouth and cheeks. A thin line of it spanned between his tongue and Hiram's tailhole. Hastily he began to palm at his tongue, scraping at it with the pads of his paws while the other mice laughed. "YOU'RE SICK!" he roared, coughing up thick phlegmy wads.

"Oh, c'mon kid," Mitch snickered, helping the smaller boy to his feet and dusting him off. Donner shoved him away. "Had to get you to do something, else you might've tattled." "I SWORE I WOULDN'T!!" Donner screeched, breath reeking of cum.

"Well, whatever. Regardless. . ." Mitch drew himself up to full, distinguished height, standing authoritatively before them. ". . . ain't no one gonna tell anybody about what we did. Bummin' this dandy will be our little secret."

The rest of the boys looked on at the sordid mess that lay shuddering on the ground before them. They all nodded solemnly.

"Good," Mitch grinned. "Let's go. And next week, ya'll sneak out an' we'll meet back here. Same time." The five mice began to mill out through a hole in the barn wall.

The last to leave was Donner, who turned back right before ducking under.

Hiram was curled in the fetal position on the ground, clutching his tail to his chest, shivering and sobbing. Moonlight filtered in through the many gaping slats running overhead. He was in pain. He looked so alone.

Then the field mouse remembered the bad taste in his mouth.

He scowled at the crumpled figure. "Hey guys, wait up," he called out as he ducked through the gap, leaving Hiram alone to look after himself in the sagging old barn.

THE END