Iraqi girl raped my marines

Painting from war in Bosnia

IRAQ 1958 COUP- Royals murdered

Coup in Iraq

A group of Iraqi army officers have staged a coup in Iraq and overthrown the monarchy.
Baghdad Radio announced the Army has liberated the Iraqi people from domination by a corrupt group put in power by "imperialism".

From now on Iraq would be a republic that would "maintain ties with other Arab countries". It said some 12,000 Iraqi troops based in neighbouring Jordan have been ordered to return.
Major-General Abdul Karim el Qasim is Iraq's new prime minister, defence minister and commander-in-chief.

As Iraq's new revolutionary government settled down to consolidate its rule, one of its first efforts was to erase the memory of the bloody regicide that brought it to power.

Though the number of people killed probably exceeded no more than 30, the rebels had an uphill job in hiding the bloodthirsty work of their own assassins and the permitted fury of the street mobs. Last week 10.000 Iraqis a day were trooping through the gutted mansion of 70-year-old former Premier Nuri asSaid, whose naked body was dragged through the streets a few days before. While the rebels begged newsmen to "see things as they are today, not as they were last week," and even closed the ransacked royal palace as if to erase the memory of the massacre there, grim tales of the revolt continued to come to light. In Athens a Belgian reported how the body of Nuri's son Sabah was dragged through the streets by a mob waving knives and portraits of Egypt's Nasser. And from his bed in Amman, 36-year-old British-trained General Sadiq Shara recited the gruesome events that took place around the swank New Baghdad Hotel.


High profile murder in Iraq

What happened in Iraq, when General Abdul Karim Qasim decided to take control of the government in 1958.The family (Mayada's family) was in Europe when they heard that General Abdul Karim Qasim, an army officer, had ordered a number of soldiers to surround the royal palace. Over loudspeakers, they ordered the family to step outside. It was only 7:45 in the morning, but soon afterward, the kitchen door at the back of the palace opened and the royals began to spill out. The officers shouted for the family to step toward the little garden at the side of the palace and stand next to huge mulberry tree. The royal family lined up, along with the servants. The very young king, confused, kept saluting the officers.A captain by the name of Al-Obousi shot at the king, splitting his skull open. Everyone else then opened fire. After the massacre, the bodies of the family were dragged to a van, and a crowd began to loot the palace.As the van passed through the palace gate, a man at the gate jumped into the van and stabbed all the dead bodies. The van was then stopped by a military jeep, whose soldiers took the bodies of the young king and the regent. Crowds had begun to gather, and to pacify the angry mob, the driver threw them the body of Faisal's regent, which was promptly stripped naked, dragged across Baghdad and hung from one of the balconies at the Al-Karhk Hotel.

The crowd then cut off the hands, arms, feet, legs and genitals, ripped off his mouth, then dragged what remained of the body to the Ministry of Defense and hung it there. A young man from the crowd then took a dagger and ripped open his belly and several men in the crowd draped the regent's intestines around their necks, like necklaces, and danced in the streets. Finally, someone took the regent's body, splashed it with gasoline and set it on fire. The remains were thrown to in the river.



King FAISAL II- Last king of Iraq

Crown Prince Abd al-Ilah ( Regent)

Prime Minister Nuri as-Said



"You Just Cannot Imagine." At 9:30 on the morning of the coup, a group of rebels arrived at the hotel in search of a general and three Jordanian ministers of the Arab Union. They ripped out telephones and ransacked the front office. With about 20 other foreigners, apparently seized at random, the Jordanians were loaded into a truck that started off for the Ministry of Defense. Among those seized were three Californians: Robert Alcock, George S. Colley Jr., senior vice president of Bechtel Corp. of San Francisco, and Eugene Burns, former A.P. correspondent. The truck drove slowly through milling streets. In front of the ministry gates the truck was trapped by a stalled vehicle in front of it, and the mob attacked.

"They tore off the tarpaulin and started pulling people into the street. One of my colleagues, Ibrahim Hashim, the Arab Union's Deputy Premier, who was sitting beside me, died from a stone hit in the head. Everyone who was pulled down was cut to bits. I saw a young German or Swiss of about 30 grabbed by the head and pulled down by the mob. About eight people started slashing and stabbing him and beating him with rods. Then they cut off his head. I did not see the death of the American, Burns, but later, one of our people told me he was pulled down and killed like the others. You just cannot imagine it.'' Finally someone got the gates open, and "those of us who were still alive on the truck tried to jump and run for it. Anyone who could not reach the gate was killed and dismembered." Shara made it.

Trying to live down the blood bath, the new government sent soldiers all over Baghdad with green paint to erase extremist anti-Western slogans. Photographs of violence (including pictures of the naked corpse of the Crown Prince hanging footless from a post, and the dismembered body of Premier Nuri being dragged through the streets) disappeared from shops. Strict orders were issued to the public against molesting foreigners. The violently anti-Western newspaper Al-Bilad was told to stop its inflammatory editorials; the radio kept issuing reassuring reports on the oil industry, whose refineries went on producing and whose foreign technicians were not bothered. Outside the burned-out hulk of the British embassy appeared a sign saying: "You should not have acted this way. These people are our guests and our friends." Premier el-Kassim himself reportedly told his London embassy: "For God's sake, make it clear to the West that we are still their friends."

STORY OF CANNIBALISM

The Adventures of Kimble Bent
Chapter XVI The Cannibals of the Bush

http://www.nzetc.org/tm/scholarly/tei-CowKimb-t1-body-d16.html


Chapter XVI
The Cannibals of the Bush

After the battle—The slain heroes of Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu—A terrible scene on the marae—What Bent saw from his prison-hut—The sword of “Manu-rau”—A funeral pyre—Priestly incantations—A soldier's body eaten—Why the Hauhaus became cannibals.

On the morning after the battle, Kimble Bent and his companions, who had been informed by a messenger the previous night of the result of the forest engagement, hurried back to the stockade.

The news of the repulse of the white troops had spread with incredible swiftness all over the Maori country-side, and the Hauhaus from the neighbouring villages gathered in Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu to hear the story of the fight and to share in the distribution of the loot taken on the battle-field.

The village was crowded with Hauhaus, all in a fearful state of excitement, a delirium of triumphant savagery.

Yelling like furies, shouting ferocious battle-songs, waving their weapons in the air, the victorious warriors were there with their spoils—carbines, swords, revolvers, soldiers' caps and belts.

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More frightful still was the sight of which Bent had just a glimpse as he entered the gateway of the pa.

Laid out in a low row in the centre of the marae, side by side, were bodies of many white soldiers, nearly twenty of them, all stripped naked—the fallen heroes of Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu.

Just a glimpse the white man had as he entered the blood-stained square. The next moment he was surrounded by a howling mob of Hauhaus, grinning, yelling, laughing fiendishly, shaking their weapons in his face, all in sheer hate and contempt of anything with a white skin.

Two or three of the Tekau-ma-rua men whom Bent knew came bounding up. One of them said to him:

“Tu-nui, you must come with me. It is Titoko's command.” The Maori led Bent to a small thatched hut on one side of the marae. Here he shut the white man in, and fastened the low sliding-door on the outside.

For a little while the white man sat in the gloom of the windowless wharé, listening to the demoniac shouts of the Hauhaus outside, and wondering what would come next—whether, indeed, his own body would not soon be added to the terrible pile of slain soldiers on the marae.

At last, hearing Titokowaru's great voice raised in commanding tones, Bent's mingled curiosity and

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fear impelled him to search for a loophole from which he could see what was going on.

Discovering a small crack in the reed-thatched walls of the hut, he enlarged it sufficiently to gain a good view of the assemblage on the village square.

There they squatted, men, women, and children, their faces smudged with charcoal or with red ochre, the paint of the war-path. They were seated on the ground in a great half-circle, facing the staring white corpses of the slain pakehas. The frightful clamour of the savages had given place with strange suddenness to a dead silence, as they listened to their war-chief's harangue, and watched him pacing quickly to and fro, with his sacred taiaha in his hand, now carrying it at the trail in the taki attitude, now dandling it high in the air as he intoned a chant to his battle-god Uenuku.

“Bring out my pakeha Tu-nui-a-moa!” cried Titokowaru, when he had ended his speech.

A Maori rose, and, unfastening the wharé door, led Bent out on to the assembly-ground.

He was taken up to the corpses of the slain soldiers, and one of the Hauhau chiefs asked him if he knew any of them.

Bent walked slowly past the dead, scrutinising each body carefully. He recognised two of them. One was an old soldier who had been a comrade of his in the 57th Regiment, and who had afterwards joined the Colonial forces.

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The other dead soldier he identified was von Tempsky. The major's body lay there naked, with a deep tomahawk cut on the right temple, and the long, curly black hair matted with blood. The other bodies were hacked about the head with tomahawks; this was the work of the Maori women, who delighted in mutilating the dead in revenge for those of their relatives who had fallen.




Before announcing his recognition of the white warrior's remains, he turned to the people and asked if any of them had taken from a pakeha officer a sword with an unusual curve in it, and a cap bound with a brass band.

A Hauhau jumped up and said, “Yes, I have them.”

“Show me which soldier you took them from,” said Bent.

The Maori, with von Tempsky's sword in his hand, pointed to the major's corpse.

“Well,” said Bent, “that is the body of Manu-rau, whom the pakehas called von Tempsky, and that is his sword.”

A great “Ah-h” came from the people, and the exultant possessor of Manu-rau's sword of wondrous mana went bounding down the marae, flashing the weapon above his head, turning his painted face from side to side in the hideous grimaces of the pukana, and thrusting out his tongue to an extraordinary length.

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The Hauhaus were in a frenzy of excitement when they realised that the renowned Manu-rau was indeed lying dead before them. Some of them proposed to drag the body out and cook it in the hangi, so that they might have the satisfaction of devouring their most dreaded enemy, and eating his heart, the heart of a tino-toa, a warrior indeed.

But Titokowaru, raising his sacred spear-staff, forbade the handling of the dead for the present.

Bent was now ordered to return to his hut, and the door was again fastened on him. The proposal to cook and eat the bodies of von Tempsky and his comrades was debated in a wild korero. Bent, from his eye-hole in the wall of the wharé, saw Hauhau after Hauhau, the orators of the tribes, jump up, tomahawk or gun or sword in hand, and furiously declaim as they went leaping and trotting backward and forward in the open space between the ranks of the victors and the dead; and the deeds of the battle-field were told again and again in great boasting words.

Von Tempsky's body, the pakeha-Maori had observed while on the marae, had not been mutilated, except for that tomahawk cut. His heart had not been cut out, though Bent half expected it would have been. The rite of the Whangai-hau, the ceremony of propitiation and burnt sacrifice following a battle, had not, however, been omitted. On the previous night, Tihirua, the young war-priest, had

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cut open a soldier's body and had torn out the heart, which he had offered in smoke and fire as oblation to Uenuku, the God of War, chanting a karakia as he watched the heart of the hated white man smoking in the flames.

“Manu-rau's “famous sword, too, was set apart as a sacred gift to the gods; it was a parakia, or taumahatanga, a thank-offering for victory. It became a tapu relic, and was religiously preserved by the Hauhaus. It is in their possession to this day.

Presently the bodies of the slain—the “Fish-of-Tu”—were ceremoniously apportioned amongst the several tribes represented in the village, as Bent again watched from his eye-hole in the wall.

One of the chiefs paced up and down past the pile of dead, with a stick in his hand. Pointing to a soldier's corpse, he cried:

“This is for Taranaki! Take it away!”

Pointing to the others, he said:

“This is for Ngati-Ruanui—take it away! This is for Nga-Rauru—take it away”—and so on until the whole of the dead men had been portioned out to the Hauhau clans to deal with as they deemed fit—subject always, however, to Titokowaru's approval.

The Nga-Rauru, the wild tribe of the Waitotara River, were the only men who actually took a body from the line of dead.

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Two warriors jumped up and, laying their weapons aside, seized a dead soldier by the ankles and dragged the corpse away. One was Wairau, the other was the celebrated scout Kātené Tu-Whakaruru. This Kātené was a strange fellow. He had fought for some time on the Government side against his own countrymen, then he suddenly reverted to Hauhauism and barbarism, and led his warriors against his old friends and commanding officers, McDonnell and Gudgeon, with utter valour and ferocity. Now he was to turn cannibal.

Kātené and his companion dragged the body along the ground across the marae to the cookingovens in the rear of the dwelling-huts, watched in silence by the people. “I could not say whose body it was,” says Bent, “but it was a man in good flesh!”

When the two Hauhaus had hauled their body away to the hangi for a terrible feast, the tribes sat in silence for a few moments, gazing intently on their dead enemies lying there before them. It was a calm, windless day, and the midday sun beat hotly down on that ghastly pile in the middle of the crowded marae.

Titokowaru rose, taiaha in hand. In his great croaking voice he cried:

“E koro ma, e kui ma, tena ra koutou! Tanumia te hunga tapu, e takoto nei; e tahu ki te ahi. Kaore e pai kia takoto ki runga ki te kino. Te mea pai me

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tahu ki te ahi!” (“Oh, friends, men and women—I salute you! Bury the sacred bodies of the slain, lying before us here. And burn them with fire! It is not well that they should be left to offend. They must be consumed in fire!”)

At this command the people dispersed to collect fuel for a funeral pyre. They brought logs and branches of dry tawa timber from the surrounding bush and from the firewood piles in the rear of the wharés, and a huge pile of wood was built in the centre of the marae. Even the little naked children came running up with their little hands full of sticks to cast upon the heap.

All the mutilated bodies of the white soldiers—except the one that had been dragged away—were lifted up and placed on the roughly levelled top of the pyre, which was about four feet high and about fifteen feet long.

Titokowaru ordered his men to place von Tempsky's body on the fire-pile first, and then lay the others on top of it. The chief suspected, perhaps, that some of the Hauhaus wished to cook and eat Manu-rau's body, and he so far respected his gallant foeman even in death that he resolved to spare it that last degradation.

So the major's body went on first, and then around and above it were heaped the other soldiers. On top of the bodies more wood was thrown.

Bent's hut door was now unfastened, and the

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natives called to him to come out. What he saw he will tell in his own words:

“When I walked out on to the marae, I met two Nga-Rauru men I knew from Hukatéré village, on the Patea River. They had come to Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu with a gift of gunpowder to Titokowaru. With them I presently went down to the cooking-quarters to see what had become of the body that had been dragged away. There we found a large earth-oven full of red-hot stones, and there they were engaged in roasting the white man's corpse. They had prepared it for cooking in the usual way, and were turning it over and over on the hot stones, scraping off the outer skin.

“The cannibal cooks looked round and asked me savagely what I wanted there. They threatened that if I did not leave instantly they would throw me into the oven too, and roast me alive.

“I returned to the marae, and was sitting amongst the crowd there some time later, perhaps an hour, when I saw a man's hands and ribs, cooked, carried up. The human flesh was placed in front of the two powder-carriers from Hukatéré, who were sitting close to me. The meat was in a flax basket, and a basket of cooked potatoes was set down with it. This present of food was out of compliment to the visitors.

“The two Maoris refused to touch it, saying, ‘No, we will not eat man!’ So the other natives ate it.

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The rest of the body was also served round, and the people consumed the whole of it.

“Kātené and Wairau were two of those who ate the cooked soldier. I saw Kātené squatting there, with a basket of this man-meat and some potatoes before him. He took up a cooked hand, and before eating it sucked up the hinu, or fat, that was collected in the palm just as if he were drinking water. The hands when cooked curled up with the fingers half-closed, and the hollowed palm was filled with the melted hinu.

“Titokowaru did not eat human flesh himself. His reason for abstaining was that if he ate it his mana tapu, his personal sacredness, would thereby be destroyed.”

The younger people in the pa were rather awestricken by the preparations for the cannibal feast, and stood together some distance away from the hangi. “I stood with them,” says one Te Kahupukoro, who was a boy at the time; “I was afraid to join in the eating, but the savour of the flesh cooking in the ovens was delightful!”

When the warriors, a little later on, were enjoying their meal of man-meat, some of the little children were heard calling out to their fathers: “Homai he poaka mou” (“Give me some pork to eat”). They had seen the meat carried up in flax baskets, and thought it was pork.

Now the white soldiers' funeral pyre was set

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alight. An old man, Titokowaru's tohunga, or priest, walked up to it with a long stick of green timber in his hand, an unbarked sapling with a rough crook at one end. He stood in front of the pile as the flames shot up and chanted a song. Then, when the logs with their terrible burdens were well alight, he began a strange incantation. Using his long stick with both hands he turned over the burning logs, pushed them closer together to create a fiercer heat, and forked the bodies into the midst of the blaze. And as he did so he recited a pagan karakia, the chant of the Iki, anciently repeated over the bodies of warriors when they were being cremated on the battle-field. These were the words of the incantation (the mystic meaning underlying some of the expressions would require many notes to fully elucidate them):

Translation.
Ka waere, Clear them away,
Ka waere, Clear them away!
Ka waere i runga ma keretu, Sweep them into the earth,
Ka waere i raro ma keretu, Into the stiff and useless clay.
Kei kai kutu ma keretu, There let them perish and decay.
Kei kai riha ma keretu,
Whakatahia te kukakuka, Sweep man's flesh to earth again.
Whakarere te kukakuka,
Te roua atu, Fork them that way!
Te kapea mai. Haul them this way!
Roua ki Whiti, Fork them to Whiti,
Roua ki Tonga, Fork them to Tonga,
E tu te rou, To the ancient homes of man.
Rouroua! Here I hold my fork erect,

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Takataka te kape; I turn them this way, that way.
Kapekapea! Quickly stir the funeral pile,
Ka eke i tua, Now this way haul, now that!
Ka eke i waho,
Ka eke i te Maru-aitu Their spirits far have gone;
Te ihi nei, The flesh alone remains;
They have gone the way of Destiny.
Te mana nei, Their courage no longer stirs them;
Their pride and power have flown;
Nga toa nei. Their valour's gone!
Ko tai ko ki, In the fullness of life they fell—
Ko tai ko rea, Like the fullness of the tide!
Ko tai takoto ki raro. And now they lie naked before me!
Ma peruperu! They leaped in the war-dance;
Ma whiwhi! They were strenuous in battle;
Ma rawea! But they fell.
Haere ake ra te ihi o nga toa, Farewell! spirits of the brave!
Te mana o nga toa, The pride and power of heroes!
Te whatu te ate-a-Nuku Heart of Earth, and heart of Heaven—
Te whatu te ate-a-Rangi. For both joined to produce you!
Huri ana te po, Now turns the night—
Huri ana te ao, It turns to day again.
He rangi ka mahea; The clouds obscure the sky;
He whai ao, We search for light,
He ao marama! The perfect light of day!

The people sat there on the marae, silently watching the burning of the dead. Far above the trees of the surrounding forest rose the thick black column of smoke from the blazing pile. It went up as straight as an arrow, unswayed by any breath of air, to a great height. To the savage watchers it

– 192 –

was verily the incense of the battle-field, rising to the war-god's nostrils. “Now and then,” says Bent, “a body would burst, and the blaze of flame and the smoke would leap straight up, high into the air.”

Long the Hauhaus gazed at the dreadful crematory blaze on the palisaded marae, replenishing the fire with dry logs as it burned down, until all the dead were consumed, and nothing but a great heap of charcoal and ashes remained.

. . . . .

The revival of the ancient practice of cannibalism was the most hideously savage feature of Titokowaru's method of warfare. It was not meat-hunger in this case; it was a battle-field rite. In olden Maoridom war was war to the death, and to the oven; it was no use beating your enemy unless you killed him, and no use killing him unless you also ate him. The eating of soldiers' bodies not only glutted racial revenge; but also—in Maori eyes—destroyed the prestige of the whites; it ruined their mana as men and as warriors.

The Taranaki Maoris tell a singular little story in explanation of those man-eating rites in Titokowaru's camps. In consuming bodies from the battle-fields they were only putting into practice the spirit of a speech made by old King Potatau te Wherowhero a decade or so before.

Potatau—grandfather of the present “king” of

– 193 –

Waikato, Mahuta Potatau te Wherowhero, M.L.C.—was a warrior of exceeding renown three-quarters of a century ago, and a cannibal of cannibals.

Te Wherowhero Kai-tangata—“man-devourer”—he was called. Many a time he raided Taranaki with his war-parties of Waikato and Ngati-Maniapoto and Tainui. At Pukerangiora, about 1830, he slew hundreds of Ngati-Awa tribespeople, and with his warriors cooked and ate them. Nearly thirty years later he was set up as king over the confederated Maori tribes in the centre of the island.

When the Maori kingdom was first established, the then governor of the colony visited old Potatau, and discussed the Maori aspirations for independence. The governor, according to the Maori story, endeavoured to show the king the folly of opposing the sway of the white man; if it did come to warfare—which was not then contemplated by either side—the British soldiers would soon make a clean sweep of the ill-armed and ill-provisioned Maori.

“You are wrong,” said Potatau; “it will take you many a year to sweep away the Maoris—you will never do it.”

“But,” said the governor, “suppose we fight you, and drive you into the forest, far away from your cultivations, what will you do for food?”

“Why,” replied the old king, “I have plenty of food even in the bush—the berries of the tawa and karaka trees, the heart of the mamaku tree-fern,

– 194 –

and the nikau, and other foods of the forest. We can live on those.”

“And suppose I chase you with my soldiers, and fight you in the forest, and pursue you so that you cannot even get those things to eat, the berries and the mamaku, what then will you do for food?”

Said old Potatau, grinning, “Then I'll eat you!”*

This half-defiant, half-jocular speech of the venerable warrior of Waikato was repeated word for word, as it is given here, in every Kingite village and in the Hauhau pas of after years; but it was left for Titoko's bushmen of Taranaki to put into actual execution their old foeman's commissariat methods.

“Titokowaru heard it,” say the Maoris; “and when the war began, and he became a fighting chief, he did as Potatau would have done—he fought his enemy in the forest, and slew him there, and ate his flesh for food. And, as Potatau had predicted, it was many a year before the war was ended—and even then Titokowaru was never caught.”

Another from Somalia

MOGADISHU, Somalia (Reuters) -- Somali insurgents dragged soldiers' bodies through the streets of Mogadishu before burning them on Wednesday in heavy fighting that killed at least 16 people and injured scores more, witnesses said.

The corpses of five soldiers -- either from the Somali government army or their Ethiopian allies -- were desecrated during some of the worst clashes in the lawless capital since the interim government took over in December, witnesses said.

In one place, men dragged two semi-naked corpses by the feet while members of a crowd chanting "God is Great" kicked and pelted them with stones, a Reuters reporter said. (Watch a soldier's body being dragged through the street, as civilian casualties also mount )

Scene similar to aftermath of Black Hawk downing

In another, three bodies were hauled round by rope, kicked and then also set alight, witnesses said.

The grisly scenes recalled the aftermath of the 1993 shooting-down of a Black Hawk helicopter by Somali militiamen during a failed U.S. operation to hunt down warlords.

Images of dead American troops being dragged through the streets of Mogadishu were the beginning of the end for a U.S.-U.N. peacekeeping force which quit Somalia in 1995.

As well as the five soldiers, witnesses and medical sources said at least 11 civilians died in Wednesday's clashes.

The fighting, which wounded at least 81 people according to hospital staff, began early in the day when insurgents fired at Ethiopian and government forces in tanks parked at the Ministry of Defense, residents said.

When the tanks moved out to defend their position, fighting escalated because Islamist sympathizers and clans feared they were about to be targeted in a forced disarmament drive.

Two new fighting fronts then opened up in the afternoon.

More dead guyz on the slab

Dead guyz

Exhumation of remains

PAULPIETERSBURG May 7 1998 - SAPA

TRC EXHUMES BODIES OF MK FIGHTERS

The bodies of four Umkhonto we Sizwe operatives who were paraded naked through the streets of Paulpietersburg before being executed in the early 1980s were exhumed near Paulpietersburg in KwaZulu-Natal by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission on Thursday.
The exhumed bodies will be reburied in the cadres' home towns in special ceremonies over the weekend, African Eye News Service reported.
The commission's special investigations unit was, however, unable to exhume the body of a fifth MK cadre, Henry Nkosi, because none of his relatives could be traced.
Nkosi and a fellow MK operative, Bheki Mchunu, were killed by security branch policemen on December 8, 1982, after a taxi driver transporting them on a mission turned out to be a police informer.
"Large numbers of MK cadres were murdered after being sold to the police by taxi drivers. The taxi drivers, in fact, got so good at it that they became regular police informers," said TRC investigative unit spokesman Fanie Molapo.
The policeman and his son who allegedly killed the two freedom fighters have not applied for amnesty, despite being publicly connected to the murders, Molapo said.
Vusi Mbongwe, James Masango and Bafana Mahlombe were sent to search for Nkosi and Mchunu by MK commanders in Swaziland but were also reported to police by taxi drivers in June 1983.
They were arrested, stripped naked and marched through the local township to the police station where they were later repeatedly shot at close range with automatic rifles and pistols before being buried naked in unmarked graves.
© South African Press Association, 1998This text is for information only and may not be published or reprinted without the permission of the South African Press Association

Saudi national-Beheaded and crucified

Saudi executed and crucified Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Dec. 31 (UPI) -- Saudi Arabian authorities Friday beheaded and crucified a Saudi national convicted of killing and robbing his mother. The Saudi Press Agency quoted an Interior Ministry statement that said the convict was executed and crucified in public in the southern province of Baha. Friday's beheading brought to 34 the number of people executed this year in Saudi Arabia, mostly smugglers. Earlier this month an Iraqi and three Pakistani drug smugglers were beheaded in the Red Sea port city of Jeddah. Executions of people convicted of murder, rape, armed robbery and drug trafficking are conducted in public, in line with Shariah, the legal code of Islam, which is applied in the conservative Muslim kingdom. Some 52 people, including expatriates, were executed in Saudi Arabia in 2003.
(Excerpt) Read more at washingtontimes.com

Navy Seal Neil Roberts-Executed by Al-Queda

Al Qaeda Executed G.I.During Battle





Soldier fell from copter under fire, was captured & shot
By RICHARD SISK

Daily News Washington BureauWASHINGTON -- Navy SEAL who fell from a helicopter during a mountain firefight was captured by Al Qaeda forces as his commanders watched helplessly on a drone's TV screen and later executed, U.S. battle commanders said yesterday."We saw him on the Predator being dragged off by three Al Qaeda men," said Maj. Gen. Frank Hagenbeck, who watched the battle in real time by a transmission from a Predator spy drone overhead.

Air Force commandos later recovered the body of Navy Petty Officer 1st Class Neil Roberts, 32, after a fierce 14-hour firefight Monday in which seven Americans were killed and two helicopters were lost. Maj. Ralph Mills of the U.S. Central Command said Roberts survived the fall and was executed by gunfire.Hundreds of U.S. troop reinforcements loaded with heavy equipment were airlifted into the mountain battlefield today, preparing for a lengthy confrontation with Al Qaeda forces.

The fresh troops were delivered by helicopter from Bagram airfield, a sprawling former Soviet base north of Kabul that is becoming the focal point for U.S. operations in Afghanistan. They were armed with shoulder-launched rockets and night-vision equipment.Bob Hanson, who lives two doors from the Roberts' family in Woodland, Calif., and knew Neil all his life, said the SEAL's death was a "tragedy.""Neil wanted to do his part for his country," said Hanson, an ex-Army Ranger who served in Vietnam in the early 1960s.

"He said becoming a SEAL was the greatest thing that happened in his life." Despite the losses, Hagenbeck said U.S. troops engaged in Operation Anaconda had killed hundreds of Al Qaeda and Taliban fighters in southeastern Afghanistan.In battle yesterday, Army Apache AH-64 helicopter gunships and Air Force fighters "caught several hundred of them with RPGs [rocket-propelled grenades] and mortars heading toward the fight," said Hagenbeck, commander of New York's 10th Mountain Division. "We body-slammed them and killed hundreds of those guys," Hagenbeck said in the mountain town of Sirkankel.Hagenbeck and Pentagon officials described major gains in the U.S. offensive across the Shahikot mountain range and U.S.-led forces have been able to enter the first cave complexes in the area, finding large caches of weapons.The fiercest fighting, however, occurred Monday, when G.I.s stranded around their downed helicopter fought for more than a dozen hours to protect the wounded and safeguard the bodies of their dead comrades. "We don't leave Americans behind," said Air Force Brig. Gen. John Rosa.Six helicopters were involved in the mission, and two of those were abandoned in the mountains after they were disabled by enemy fire.

Two MH-47 Chinook helicopters began the assault at 3 a.m. Monday by trying to land troops. The first chopper to land took fire and lifted off immediately to escape.As described by Pentagon officials, Roberts fell out as the stricken chopper veered up and away toward safer ground. But another military official suggested the chopper landed, then was hit and everyone except Roberts piled back in as it flew off.At 6:30 a.m., two more Chinooks renewed the assault a few miles from the scene of the first incident. The first chopper to land was hit with withering enemy fire, and six U.S. troops were killed and 11 wounded in the firefight.The second Chinook landed its troops, and they took up the fight. They held their positions in close combat for 12 to 14 hours into the night while waiting for relief.Two more helicopters, thought to be armored Air Force Special Operations CH-53 Pave-Lows, recovered the troops and all the dead and wounded at both sites, and returned to base.Maj. Bryan Hilferty said about 1,000 U.S. troops from the 10th Mountain Division, the 101st Airborne Division and the Special Forces were doing the fighting.The flag-draped coffins of the seven servicemen were flown aboard an Air Force C-17 transport yesterday to Ramstein Air Base in Germany, where honor guards transferred them in a solemn ceremony to a C-5 Galaxy for the flight to Dover Air Force Base in Delaware.With News Wire ServicesOriginal Publication Date: 3/6/02 Daily News ServicesExcerpted from the March 16, 2002 edition of Bits N Pieces, the newsletter of the National Alliance of Family.

Negro Lynched

Near Bethany, La., Grafton Page, 30-year-old Negro, was stripped naked. His hands were bound to a bough above his head. He was beaten to death with pine knots. Such was his punishment for "molesting" 22-year-old Blanche Abram. While drunk he had forced her into his automobile, driven furiously, almost hit a truck. careened into a ditch, knocking the girl unconscious. Such were the facts, reported last week by officers of Caddo Parish, of a curious lynching—curious because not only Grafton Page but also Blanche Abram and all members of the lynching bee were Negroes.

Violence

Excerpts from Remembering Ken Saro-Wiwa

Nobody knows exactly what happened on that bloody Saturday, May 21, 1994 because no proper police investigation was conducted and no forensic evidence was offered at the subsequent Tribunal. According to the unremittingly antagonistic prosecution witnesses, it seems that the chiefs were holding a meeting in the palace of His Royal Highness, Chief James Bagia, the Gbenemene of Gokana, when one of the commercial motorcycles popularly known as okadas pulled up sometime before noon and said that Saro-Wiwa had told his followers that the people at the meeting ‘were sharing money given to them by Government and Shell’ and that ‘they [the youths] should come to the venue of the meeting to deal with you [the chiefs]’. A few minutes later, the palace was invaded by a mob of up to two thousand youths, some on okadas, three or four to a machine, others on foot armed with clubs, machetes, bottles, iron rods, broken blocks, stones and a garden rake. The leader of the mob shouted ‘E-sho-be’ to applause and directed that they kill one Celestine Meabe, who was set upon and ‘the whole crowd impounded around me and beat me to a state of complete coma’. Meabe survived to become one of the chief prosecution witnesses.A second witness, Alhaji Mohammed Kobani, younger brother of Chief Edward Kobani and the main source of the events that day, said that he was himself attacked but was rescued and taken into a room in the palace, where he was able to shield his brother. Someone outside then directed the mob to go and bring the chiefs. Four of them were marched out, including Chief Albert Badey and the Orage brothers. They were set upon. They managed to stagger back into the palace but were attacked again as they huddled in a corner. Chief Badey made a bid to escape and was pursued; Chief S. N. Orage was beaten to death ‘on the spot’. Chief Edward Kobani and Chief T. B. Orage, whose right eye had been pierced in the first attack outside, were stripped nearly naked and the latter led out of the palace. Alhaji Kobani said that his brother, whom he tried to help, was sliced on his back and hands with a broken bottle by one of the assailants while another buried the teeth of the garden rake in his skull. A third shoved a pole up his anus. Later, somebody was heard to say, ‘Rise up now and go and contest the election with Ken Saro-Wiwa.’Seeing that his brother was dead, Alhaji Kobani fled to the shrine behind the palace because, as he later told a British journalist, ‘I am an Ogoni man and I know churches are just window dressing.’ He said that if he had entered a church or a mosque ‘they would have killed me there’ but that their ‘fetish belief’ made them afraid that the repercussions ‘would be on their families for generations’. However, he was helped in no small part by the courage of the Gbenemene, who hurried from his sick daughter’s bedside when he heard ‘crying and wailing of people around me’ and refused the mob's demand that he make a libation for attack. He made a libation for peace instead and then entered the shrine to await help. That was at about 2 p.m. Unknown to them, soldiers at a nearby checkpoint, as well as police in Bori, the main Ogoni town, refused to leave their posts when they were told what was going on because, they said, there was no senior officer around to order them to do so.Chief Albert Badey, meanwhile, who had last been seen fleeing the palace, almost made it to a waiting taxi in the company of another intended victim, Chief Francis S. Kpai, but the mob proved too much for them. They then headed for the Methodist Church but found that way also blocked. A woman offered them shelter and locked them in an inner room but gave them up after being threatened. A sympathiser then apparently helped Chief Badey to a bench but the mob circled around him saying that they were going to kill him and then proceeded to beat him to death with ‘all types of things such as bottles, stones, sticks, blocks and any other things they can lay their hands on’. Chief Kpai fared better. According to his own testimony, he was beaten, stripped and dragged back to the palace, where he was left for dead. When he came to, he saw Chief Edward Kobani being beaten as his brother tried to rescue him. He then followed Alhaji Kobani into the shrine and confirmed that the Gbemenene made a libation for peace but added that some members of the mob fetched fuel to torch the shrine until one of their number prevailed upon them to desist.As some of the mob assailed the shrine, others commandeered a white VW Beetle. Two witnesses on their way back from a fishing expedition said that they saw a large group of people pushing the car and were made to kneel down and swear never to reveal what they had seen. One of the witnesses said that he saw the naked corpse of a fat man inside the car and the corpses of two others being carried on an ‘improvised stretcher’, one of which he identified as that of Chief T. B. Orage, the only victim whose killing was not apparently witnessed by anybody. The car was then set alight. Meanwhile, Chief T. B. Orage’s daughter, who was staying in the family house two-and-a-half kilometres away, was informed by a breathless okada driver that ‘they have beaten your father [and] you need to rescue him’. She hurried over but was unable to gain access to the palace for the crowd. She noticed a car burning in the distance. Someone in the crowd, recognising her, advised her to leave. She was set upon but managed to reach the okada; as she sped off, she heard someone shout, ‘Slit her throat!’ The scanty police report the following day observed that the car was pushed into the thick bush and that portions of flesh suspected to be the remains of the murdered chiefs were found at the scene. A relative of the Orage brothers later claimed that ‘some parts of their bodies were eaten’.

ARRESTED IN THE NUDE

POLICE STRIP SEARCH

A student's punishment

This story, although inspired by the Duke University Rape Case, is entirely fictional. None of the characters in the story are meant to reflect on any actual person. The story is for entertainment purposes only. In reality, it is the author’s opinion


It was one of those large private universities which were known for academics as well as athletics. Also of the athletes, many of whom were on scholarship, that attended, none were more exulted than the Lacrosse Team. It should be noted at this point that this particular college, unlike so many others in the country, was without a basketball team. It had lacrosse, water polo, swimming and diving, as well as several other sports. Interestingly enough though, the sports that were favored seemed to be the ones played by white males. The lacrosse team was near the end of a winning season, when it was decided to have a big rowdy party, including prostitutes and strippers. Randy, the captain of the team, and a son of a corporate executive, planned on this. He was not noted for his “sensitivity” to either women or minorities. The team had neither. And as a final note, Randy, like the rest of his teammates, hated homosexuals as well.“Well, Tom, you looking foreword to scoring some bitches”. “Yeah!” was Tom’s reply. We’ll fuck’em good and hard. “That’s right”. The two talked on and on about their future sexual plans. “Yeah, but what if they don’t want to?” “What’s the difference?” The two then laughed at this for the next ten minutes. So young Tom and the team captain Randy talked on and on about what they were going to do to the strippers or prostitutes they were going to hire for their party. (Strippers, or prostitutes, because in the minds of these boys, they were the same-only one charged more. They never took no for an answer.) The two young men continued talking and walking through the campus, up to the sports complex that housed the team’s facilities, and inside they went, down the stairs, and into the restricted area of the team locker room. “You know the code?” “Yeah.” They entered the code to the locked doors, and inside the two went, to change and get ready for practice. Practice went well that late spring day, and soon all the boys on the team were ready to hit the showers. So they marched, single file, helmets on and carrying their lacrosse sticks, back to their locker room. The door was opened, and in the team marched, joking and laughing all the way in. Soon inside the locker room, the air filled with the smell of sweaty athletic bodies, which, to some, would be repulsive, but to others, inviting. All these tall, perfectly built, eighteen, nineteen, and twenty year old men in a room, preparing to shower after their practice. Lots of loud obscene talk at the same time, as Randy and Tom told the others about the party they were planning for that evening. “I already called some of the chicks…” “Are they hot?” “They fuckin better be, for what we’re pay’in them!” “Oh, shut the fuck up, your old man can spare the change!” “Yeah, he thinks I need the money for my education!” “You do, your sex education!” And so on and so on this locker room banter continued. By this time someone turned on the showers, and the loud noise of the roar of water flooded the entire room, adding its ambiance, to the atmosphere of sweat and trashy talk that so often is the environment of young men about to engage in the group showers that athletes seem to take more as a kind of bonding ritual than as a hygienic necessity. “Yeah, turn the fucking water on…its always so fuck’in cold when I get in there!” The boys let the showers run for several minutes before even beginning to undress. They hated to walk into cold water. After a few more minutes of trash talk, the topic of “queers” was broached. “Maybe we should roll some fags after the party!” Suggested one of the boys, to the enthusiastic agreement of the others. It seemed that always the topic of homosexuality was brought up just at the time when the team members, almost in unison, started to undress. This almost seemed a way to avoid any finger pointing on the part of anyone, who might be afraid of showing too much interest in the bodies of his teammates. For, truth be told, this was the moment that any closet homosexual would be waiting for-the lacrosse team members were starting to strip. Boots, helmets, blue jerseys, shorts, everything, even jock straps, was coming off. The look of blue and black lacrosse uniforms was fading and being replaced by a solid mass of white flesh, as the perfectly formed, but youthful men of the college lacrosse team stripped themselves completely naked, and proceeded to the shower room, without even picking up their towels. Their bodies were too sweaty, and they were comfortable in the nude, at least in front of each other, that is. (If the reader wishes to pause, feel free, and imagine the procession of totally nude lacrosse players marching to their showers. Their bodies almost uniform in their perfection, from their youthful faces, smooth chests, muscular backs, flat stomachs, well shaped legs, and yes, I don’t mind saying, even their private parts. No one’s penis was overly large, but in youth the sight still seemed delectable. And as they walked past, imagine their smooth, firm buttocks flexing up and down. It is no wonder these boys were worried about “queers” in their locker room!)After the showers were completed the boys dressed, not before giving each other a few “smacks” on each other’s backsides, though. Why they felt the need to do this after every practice, I’ll never know. But, I sure envy the loud smacking sound each bun made when slapped hard! They were soon dressed and off to their dorms for preparation for the upcoming party. Randy and Tom especially were intent on having a good, dirty, time.The party that night was a real blast. Around midnight, a black stripper came, and proceeded to undress right in the middle of the entire team! The drunk lacrosse team, especially Randy and Tom, shouted out, “more, more , more, show everything, you slut!!” The woman, who didn’t look half bad, did several things in front of the boys, even bending over and displaying her most intimate private parts. She even spread her cheeks, and gave these guys a good long look at her anus and her vagina, even opening up her lips. The boys on the team were rock hard at this. Both Randy and Tom were starting to experience the sensation of precum on their penises, and being soaked through their tight Calvin Klein briefs, that all these affluent kids seemed to wear. Finally, Randy, a well-built but not overweight brunette, offered up his organ for inspection by the dancer. He unzipped his fly, and out popped his fairly sizeable, rock hard penis, just slightly oozing a little precum. “Now, you nigger bitch suck, this white man’s Johnson! Don’t you hear, bitch, the ‘Massah’s’ calling you!!!” The other team players got a real laugh out of this. The woman, though, didn’t see the joke, and proceeded to put her skimpy outfit back on. “Where you going, bitch?!” Randy demanded. “Hey, bitch, we fuck’in paid you. You’re not gonna leave now. Stop, you fuckin cunt! Now!” Randy, and soon tall blonde Tom as well were cursing the woman, who was intent on leaving the party because of the obvious racist taunts of these kids, who seemed to think that, just because they paid her, had every right to do whatever they wanted with her. She attempted to leave, but faced a throng of well muscled young athletes who stood between her and the door. “You’re not leaving. You think you are too good, we’ll see about that!” Randy went to grab her by the arm and pull her away, but she resisted, and proved surprisingly strong, even to the young athlete, who like his teammates lifted weights. “Give me a hand, Tom!” Tom hesitated, but decided to help his buddy, and the two soon dragged her, kicking and screaming toward the upstairs bedroom. Some of the team laughed at this; others just stood there in stunned silence, but no one intervened on the woman’s behalf. “Now, bitch, for the real entertainment!” Randy said this as he and Tom dragged the woman upstairs. In a few minutes the others could hear the woman screaming, and the two boys laughing and shouting from the upstairs bedroom. After struggling with the woman for several minutes, they decided to let her go, without having sex. “You aren’t worth the trouble, bitch!” She left, enraged at their conduct. As she left the other boy’s, who made no effort to come to her assistance during the attack, yelled racial taunts at her. She vowed to herself that she would get even for their behavior. So, she went to the nearest police station, and told the desk sergeant that she had been raped.Down that quiet street, several police patrol cars and a paddy wagon rolled, with their sirens off. In front of the large house, where the team held the party, the police stopped. The sergeant, a large black man with a deep, commanding voice, said, “okay, we know what happened here, let’s do what we know we have to do! She said their names were Randy and Tom. And you know the description. Let’s get them while they’re still sleeping.” The police advanced upon the doors to the house, and using their expertise undid the locked doors, and were soon inside the house. Inside, it was dark, and quiet. It seemed that all the lacrosse team had left after the evenings “action” was over. That is, all but Tom and Randy, who were the hosts of the night’s festivities. They were both upstairs, sound asleep. Several officers, including the large black sergeant, proceeded up the steps toward the two young men’s room. Inside the room, the police shouted, “wake up…police, we have an arrest warrant for…..(and gave the names of the two)!” Randy, with the sleep still not out of his eyes, rose slightly in the bed, and turned on a nightlight that was right next to him in the bed, on a small night stand. “Hey, what……hey, what the fuck is this?” “Are you Randy Anderson?” “Yeah. Who wants to know?” “The Hillsdale Police, that’s who, you are under arrest for…….” The officer gave a description of the charges and the arrest warrant. By this time, Tom, in the next bed was also beginning to wake up, and was likewise greated by a similar statement. Both young men started to get nervous when they began to realize the gravity of the situation. “You mean, like we’re arrested?” Queried, Randy, whose big brown eyes were starting to get bigger, and whose quivering chin was just about visible under the mini beard that seems so popular with some young men these days. “Come on, let’s go!” “Now?” “Yeah…..now!” The sergeant was getting impatient with Randy, who clearly had a different definition of now than he. “Okay, but just let me have a chance to get dressed. You guys can wait in the hallway….” “Now!!!” Demanded the sergeant, and in one yank, pulled the covers clear off Randy, revealing him nearly naked and only wearing grey low cut jockey briefs. “Hey, what the fuck!” Randy tried to cover himself, but two other officers quickly intervened, and had the young man out of the bed, and they threw him, face down, on the floor. Randy didn’t seem to expect that at all, and fell, uncharacteristically, in a thud, with none of the balance that his chosen sport normally requires. His frame was long, and fairly well muscled. He had a nice tan, and just a little hint of chest hair, good for a college student of only twenty years of age. His legs were long, and clearly well shaped, with just a little brown hair over them. His back was smooth. Any hairiness only separated him from the female of the species, but in no way detracted from his youthful body’s appearance. His bottom, of course, was covered mostly by his grey briefs, but the sight still looked delectable, almost as though the underwear was only worn as a “teaser”. This of course was not the intention of Randy, who was a typical homophobic jock. It was merely the underwear most comfortable for athletic usage, and it provided more coverage than a jockstrap, which no one on the team wore, for that very reason. Before Randy had time to react, his arm was twisted to the breaking point behind his back, and the handcuffs were secured with an authoritative click. “Wait, wait, what the fuck…..my clothes, my clothes!” The protests only resulted in a punch in the flat, slightly hairy stomach, of the lacrosse captain. This doubled the youth over and sent him to his knees. He was yanked, coughing, up again, and kept quiet after that. He was left standing, in his jockeys, with his hands cuffed behind his back, and his one elbow held securely by one of the police officers. Smooth and blond Tom saw this activity, and gradually his own insecurity grew. After the subduing of Randy, which only took less than a minute, the police turned to him. Although muscular, about the same height as Randy, only a little heavier, the young man’s eyes grew wide open with the emotion of fear in them, which was apparent even in the dimly lit room. Not wanting to provoke the police the way his friend Randy had, Tom simply put his hands up, and stepped out of the bed and stood, hands up and level with his head, in his red plaid boxers. “Turn around, and put your hands behind your back!” Tom complied, and was soon cuffed. Then both boys, heads low in shame, were marched in handcuffs out the door, down the steps, and toward the paddy wagon, still in their “skivvies” . The arrest was done quickly and efficiently, and the big black sergeant praised the other officers for that. “Good job, men, now let’s process these punks downtown!” The doors to the paddy wagon were slammed shut, and off the police cars went, in the direction of the main processing jail for Hillsdale.The police, cars and paddy wagon, pulled up to the jail. It was a fairly large building, and served as a holding facility not only for Hillsdale, but for every other community in the county as well. “Get out, boys!” A police officer summoned the arrestees, who climbed out of the van, still cuffed and stripped to their underwear, and led them into the facility, up a few steps and through the double doors, to be processed and held inside. The other officers, including the big black sergeant, followed.Inside the facility were several desks, all piled with paperwork, and sitting in each were either police officers, or male and female secretaries. In all, about thirty people were in the large front office area of the facility. They all seemed to be busy doing something. But when the double doors opened, it seemed as though the room got suddenly quiet. Typewriters stopped banging, people stopped talking, filing cabinet drawers stopped opening and closing. The people, male and female alike, just looked up. There they saw the half dozen or so uniformed officers, not an unusual sight, and the nearly naked arrestees, which was unusual. The police looked back and smiled, even the sergeant, but the two young men-Randy and Tom-looked up in horror at the obvious attention they were being subjected. This was especially true of Randy, whose body was certainly something to be proud of, but who didn’t appreciate being put on display. From head to toes Randy’s frame was firm and well-shaped. He had a nice tan, long legs, a flat stomach, and just enough body hair. He had a little bit of hair on his chest that tapered down to a narrow trail that led to his stomach, then below to his navel, then down to the waistband of his grey low cut Calvin Klein briefs (“yummy!”). His rather narrow face was tanned and handsome, with no lines, his hair, cut short, was brown as were his eyes. As I said before, he had a tiny beard on his chin, the style nowadays. For a second or two, Randy looked back at the eyes upon him, but then turned away. Then he turned his head back and forth, as if by doing this he could make his almost naked frame disappear. It was plain to all in the room that the young man was extremely embarrassed-and terrified. Tom had a similar demeanor. The police clearly enjoyed a huge psychological advantage over the two boys. At this point a lieutenant, a white man in his fifties with a pot belly and bald head, came over and spoke to the sergeant. “Serge, can you come into my office?” The two men then stepped into a small enclosure and shut the door behind them. They were clearly visible through the windows, which surrounded the lieutenant’s office. “Look, you didn’t even let these kids get dressed? You can’t lead them through here, practically buck naked, in front of every person, male and female, who works or visits here. What will their lawyer say?” “Sir, with all due respect, I think these kids committed a heinous crime and are covering for it. It outrages me to think they will walk because we have only the word of the victim here. Please, let me have some leeway here. I know that I can psychologically break these two smart assed punks.” “Okay, but by tomorrow, if you don’t come up with anything, like a confession, they have to be released!” “Thank you sir. I think one day with them will be all I need; its almost morning now.” Then the sergeant left the lieutenant’s office, and motioned to several officers to accompany him and the two college boys through the large reception office and through a dark hallway in the back and toward the special interrogation rooms, that were isolated, without windows, and were used for questioning and examining suspects. The boys paraded through, their faces showing more and more terror with each step of their bare feet on the cold hard floor. As they walked they wondered what was going to happen to them. Tom wondered if the unbuttoned fly to his boxers would open, and Randy just hoped that his tight low cut briefs didn’t ride up and give him a “wedgie” in front of everybody. Their hands remained securely cuffed behind their backs, increasing their humiliation.Past the large reception area, the two young men were marched, and down into a long dark corridor, which was lit only every few feet or so, by some pale light bulbs on the ceiling. They all walked past several doors, which were on both sides, and came to an ordinary door marked, “interrogation room”. The sergeant took out some keys, unlocked the door, and soon the two handcuffed suspects, and at least four other police officers, were inside. Inside the room itself, which was not very large, and like the hallway, had a bare floor, were several metal folding chairs, and a wooden folding table covered with a sheet. Over in the corner, the two nearly nude youths saw, was a tripod with a video camera. This gave the boys an ominous feeling. At this time, fortunately, the handcuffs were removed. Tom stood feeling his wrists, and looked down. Randy just stood, arms at his sides, looking around. The sergeant, and the other officers each took up chairs, and all had a seat in front of the two suspects, who were obliged to stand, side by side. At this time Randy spoke up, and asked if they would be given anything to wear. His reply was “later”. When he asked when, the reply was harsher, one of the officers just said, “shut up, and do as you are told!” For the next ten minutes the officers took turns firing questions at the two lacrosse students, and attempted to trip them up on their answers. Nothing conclusive was learned. Finally the sergeant spoke up. “Okay, my boys, since you don’t want to cooperate, we will have to put you under arrest, and hold you until your lawyer arrives and you post bail! You will now be searched fully!” At this point the sergeant, and one other officer, ordered the two to remove their underwear. They did so, and then were made to bend down, and hand these over to the officers, who placed them on the table. Then they were ordered to raise their hands high above their heads. “No, higher than that! Higher!” Then the police separated into two groups, one for Tom and one for Randy. They surrounded their respective subject, and looked up and down for any evidence of the crime. They were separated at this time, and made to stand at opposite sides of the room. At this time, someone reminded the sergeant, “hey, we had better have this on video!” The sergeant agreed, and soon the video camera was turned on, and the boys were informed that it could cover most of the room, and that the video was needed for “your protection”.The search of the young men’s bodies continued, only now, frustrated, the police demanded that Randy assume a spread eagled position. This was even more humiliating for Randy, who couldn’t help but notice that the police seemed to be fixated on his genital organs, and on his healthy bush of course pubic hair. Randy was obliged to stand there, motionless, as two police, the sergeant and one other officer stared at his entirely nude body up and down. The sergeant stood in front of Randy, and the other officer stood behind him. They continued, up and down, looking for anything that may suggest the crime. Finally, Randy was allowed to lower his arms, this he did, breathing a sigh of relief. But this positive feeling was short lived, though. For at that point, one of the officers said, “Now, son, pull up your penis!” Randy was stunned. Did he really mean that? He thought. He was not too familiar with strip search procedures and wasn’t sure if this guy was joking-or a pervert. He soon found out. “Look, asshole, I said to pull up your dick. You understand, you dipshit?!” Randy was now starting to tremble. But he did what he was told, and reached down, and grabbed the end of his penis, and pulled it up, for the two officers to inspect. Next he was told to raise his balls. He did this without hesitation. By this time Randy knew where things were going, although he tried not to think about it……On the other side of the room, Tom was being searched in a similar fashion as Randy. His body, unlike Randy’s, was smooth. His penis, which was smaller than Randy’s, was likewise inspected. He had very little pubic hair. One of the officers even joked. “Believe me kid, you ain’t got nothing to hide!” All the police in the room laughed at that one. Tom, like Randy, knew by now where these police were headed. There was no avoiding it…..Then a knock happened at the door. “Come in!” The door opened, and in walked a fat, middle aged woman, wearing a nurse’s aide’s outfit. “Its about time! We were getting worried.” She smiled, then looked at the two nude, and terrified boys, “did I miss anything?” “No, besides, we have the video. You can even have a copy, to show for ‘educational purposes’. We aren’t forgetting you. I’ll tell you what, since we respect you for coming all the way down here so early in the morning, we will let you do the honors.” “Not just yet, I have a surprise. She is just out of the hospital. You can come in now, honey. With that, in walked a second woman. She was a young African American woman, and she looked familiar…..she was the woman that they had hired! How humiliating! They were performing for her! This was too much, the boys, who avoided this gesture out of fear of looking too vulnerable, couldn’t avoid it anymore. They both, almost in unison, cupped their hands over their genitals. Tom, his face now bright red, seemed even more affected than Randy. Accustomed to be scene in boxers, this state of total nudity in front of the two African American women, degraded him even more than Randy. He not only grabbed his “jewels” but also pressed his knees together, and looked almost like he was play acting, his posture crouched down slightly. But everyone in the room knew that it was not acting, for looking at his handsome, smooth face, topped with short blond hair, everyone could see his eyes fill with tears as he started to cry. The big black sergeant smiled as he saw this. Good, he thought, that is what I want to see. The two ladies also smiled, especially the victim. If I didn’t know any better she thought, I wouldn’t believe this scared young thing was one of the men who “dissed” me. He looks pathetic, she thought, well, I hope he gets what’s coming to him!The big fat nurse sat down on one of the metal chairs. “Come here, sweaty!” Tom looked up, eyes filled with tears. “You heard her kid. Move it!” At that the big black sergeant grabbed Tom’s arm, almost pulling it away from his genitals, and shoved the young man toward the nurse. “She’s going to examine you! You do what she says, boy! Understand?” “Uhhh…(sob, sob, sniffle), yes…sir.” Tom replied. This brought a big smile from the nurse. She thanked the sergeant for handling the situation so well, and looked up at her prize, who was standing right in front of her. By now he stopped cupping his “jewels”, after all, what was the use?The tall, muscular, blond lacrosse player was thus made to stand, completely naked, in front of this fat middle aged black nurses aide. The woman, with a smile, did her job well. She examined the young man’s penis, its tip, and the very light touch of pubic hair seen on his groin. She made sure to examine up and down his body as well, and made him, as earlier, raise his arms above his head, and turn around several times. She gave the well built young jock a good going over. You couldn’t say she wasn’t doing her job. Finally, she said, “now, sweaty, turn around, bend over, and open up your cheeks for me.” Tom blushed. He hoped that they forgot about that. Not a chance. Meanwhile Randy looked on, by now well aware of what he, too, was in for. In the end, both boys went through full body searches, by this woman. They held back their tears during the ordeal, though, and were slowly recovering their composure. But dried tears were still visible on their faces. For the record, both Tom and Randy also had their anuses examined by the woman. All the while their accuser, her own private parts wet by now, looked on. It was a once in a lifetime sight-the visual humiliation of two arrogant college lacrosse players. It made her humiliation at that party well worth it! Oh, she thought, to see a naked young white college athlete bend over and spread his butt cheeks….yummy! And just. She was, by ogling, actually raping them with her eyes. Finally, the sergeant, who made sure the video camera was capturing all the action, spoke up. “Nurse, we will have to gather some evidence of this crime. We will need samples of both their pubic hair, and of their semen.” The two boys looked at each other in horror. “Fine”, replied the nurse’s aide, “let me get some things.” She reached into a small medical bag that she was carrying, and got some tiny plastic bags, and some scissors. She summoned Randy first. The tall, brown haired man had ample body hair for a male his age. This included his pubes, which were a thick bush. Although he wouldn’t admit it, this was a source of pride to him in the locker room and showers. Since he had already been examined by this woman he didn’t hesitate about stepping foreword to be asked to sacrifice a few pubic hairs. When he did so, the woman, like an inexperienced barber, started chopping away. Randy stepped back, surprised. “Wait!” “What are you doing?” This only brought on a loud command from the big black sergeant to get back to his place, and submit to the sample collection. He did so, and she continued cutting. Randy didn’t want to look down, but had to, briefly. He noticed, in horror, that his groin was now practically bald! With his tan that was evident elsewhere, the skin in this particular location looked almost pale white, and was obvious even from far away. He felt thus even more emasculated, and as a result tears came welling up and he started to cry. Tom went through the same procedure, although the damage was less obvious on him as he had little body hair to begin with. The nurse, however, made up for this by going on and on about the lack of development in his sexual organs. This eventually had the same impact as the shearing did to Randy. The victim, meanwhile, started to giggle. As far as she was concerned, this show made everything worth it. Now, the sergeant, as a final humiliation, saved the best for last. “Now we will need samples of their semen, remember?” He handed each young man a plastic cup, with their name on it. “Use these.” Randy, still shaken, spoke up. “Okay, sir, uhh, where is the bathroom?” “Bathroom?” “Uhh…yeah, I mean, you know, for…..” “Ha, ha ha, you don’t think that you are going to use a bathroom, do you? You will do it right here! For all of us to see! And the video camera to record the event for posterity! We need the video for training purposes, plus the public wants to see what is really going on!” Tom and Randy started to cry again, uncontrollably this time. They pleaded, and pleaded. “Please, no, no sir, we’re sorry, please, not that, it won’t happen again, please, sir, please!” But the sergeant, the cops, and the two ladies, especially the victim, would have none of it. “Start jerking off! Now! You don’t get out of here until we have a sample! You’ve got five minutes!” Neither Tom nor Randy had erections. The sergeant gave them five minutes to ejaculate, or he would jail them both for lack of cooperation, and put them with “bubba”. So, with tears in their eyes, and faces bright red, both lacrosse jocks started masturbating. It was a job, because in their nervousness, and lack of privacy, their penises wouldn’t seem to cooperate. Randy’s, although larger initially than Tom’s, actually seemed to shrink a little. The lack of privacy was really turning them off, so they continued at a feverish pace. “Uhh, uh, uh, uh, uh” said Randy. “Ah Ahh Ahh Ahh” said Tom. Soon both their faces, and even their chests and stomachs were getting reddened. And remember, it was all being filmed! “Four minutes!” More hard work. Finally, erections started to form on the boys. “Four minutes and twenty seconds!” Desperate, the two were now banging their meat, and practically screaming. “AAAAHHHHH!!!!, AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!” You would have think they were being tortured. “Four and forty seconds, Bubba’s getting ready!” Desperation! Screaming and pounding their meat. The women couldn’t believe it! Wow! What a show! Even the male officers were starting to get turned on! Finally, Randy shot a load, followed by Tom. They tried to catch as much of their loads as possible, but made a mess on the outside of their cups. Out of breath, panting hard like he just went a marathon, Randy, between gasps of air, said, “okay…(pant pant pant) here it is…(pant pant)…here (pant)…here, sir.” Randy handed over his cup, followed by Tom. “Thanks, guys, you did real well. Unfortunately, you were just one second late.” Then he turned to one of the other police officers…. “Okay, officer, get these two ready for transport to the County Prison! Bubba won this one! Ha ha!” Randy stood there, looked at Tom, who looked back. Then, in unison, they both started wailing again, this time more like little girls, than scared young men, and then they just fell to their knees and continued crying, and crying.The sergeant then left the interrogation room, along with the nurse and the woman who was raped. He went to the lieutenant’s office. “Well, lieutenant, you see what I was saying? I managed to break these kids real fast. I want to see their attorneys try and wiggle their way out of this!” “Good, sergeant!” , replied the lieutenant, “what are you doing now!” “Getting them ready for transport, sir. We have them in bright orange jumpsuits! The other inmates at the county jail probably already know about this. They always do!” “Fresh fish!” replied the lieutenant. Then both men laughed and walked together to the interrogation room. They were just in time to see Randy and Tom, dressed in sandals and those aforementioned orange jumpsuits walking gloomily out of the room, and down toward the rear of the police station. Their hands were shackled along with their ankles. The guards assigned to them, who were both African American, didn’t want to take any chances. The sergeant and the lieutenant smiled as the rear doors were opened, and the two prisoners were led into a small courtyard to a waiting municipal van. They stepped in and the doors were slammed shut. Then the rear gate way doors were opened, and the van disappeared down the road-toward the county jail. “Bye bye, assholes!” laughed the sergeant. “What about the videos of their processing?” “Don’t worry, sir, they are being saved.” “Good, I want us to be covered!” “Don’t worry, sir, and I would like to suggest that these be kept for the purposes of training some of our corrections officers.” “Good idea, sergeant, but I would like to watch them first, in addition, I think that we can sell them to some video stores, for ‘educational purposes’ you know.” The two men laughed at this, they knew that it was common practice for the police in the town to arrest people, usually young white males, and have them submit to strip searches and even total body cavity searches. These were videotaped, for the “protection of the suspects” and it was common for these videotapes to be sold to local video stores. Under the law these were not considered pornography, but educational. They were part of keeping the public “informed” and hence protected. Needless to say, these videos were better gay porn, and cheaper, than anything else available. It gave the police an extra incentive to do their jobs well. Local college kids complained bitterly about the videos, but, hey, if you can’t do the time (or the video) don’t get in trouble.The lieutenant got the tape, and put it into his VCR that was in his office. “Wow, you really did a good job sergeant! Amazing! You really got those punks scared! I thought these college lacrosse punks were pussies, but I didn’t think that they were that pathetic. They are crying like girls!” “Yeah, and that’s what they will be..girls!” More laughter. The van pulled up to the front wall of the county jail. On either side there were high guard towers. It looked like something right out of the movies. The front gates opened, after the passes of the drivers were checked. “Right in guys!” Smiled the guard at the front gate. Then in drove the van. On either side, playing basketball or lifting weights in the exercise yard, were several dozen inmates, mostly black, but also some pretty scary looking white guys as well. Then someone yelled: “fresh fish! Fresh fish!” Tom and Randy were horrified! They knew that they were being yelled at. “Look, uhh driver, sir, you aren’t going to put us with them are you?” “Don’t worry, kid, they don’t know who you are, yet. Waite til I tell them, then you can worry! Ha ha ha!” Randy just looked in horror at Tom when he heard these words. His heart sank. All his hope was fading. Then the van went inside the building to a processing area. The doors slammed behind the boys. They were weighed, and photographed, again. They stood at a desk and filled out some paper work. Then some more doors were opened and they proceeded into the prison itself. There were cells on either side, and lots of inmates looking out and taking interest at the two scared young white boys that were being led in. A few catcalls and kisses were blown at them. Randy and Tome tried to ignore this. For a second Randy even tried to look tough, but it was no use. His fear was just as obvious as Tom’s. They were marched through the jail all the way they walked. Then they went downstairs to a shower area. It was not like the area they were accustomed to going after lacrosse practice. It was dark and dirty. They were led by two African American guards, the same two who drove the van that got them here. They wore grey uniforms that said department of corrections. They were led to a large, bare shower stall, where an old black guy, Randy figured he was an inmate, was standing there with a hose. “Okay, assholes, here you sons a bitches will be processed!” “Look, sir, don’t call us that, we have…” Bam! One of the black officers punched Randy so hard that the young man was knocked clean on his ass. “Don’t you speak unless you are spoken to, asshole, you got that, you little pussy?!” Randy looked up. Then he said quietly. “Uhhh…yeh…I mean, uhh, yes, sir.” He then got up, and stood next to Tom, who looked just as terrified. And waited for instructions. But no instructions were forthcoming. The two guards just stepped foreword, and as the elderly black guy holding the hose beamed a bright smile, unzipped the jumpsuits, and quickly stripped them off the two university lacrosse players. Tom and Randy were left standing in their sandals, naked before the three black men. Tom looked down. He gently put one of his hands over his small penis. Randy looked down, too, and realized in horror what the police had done at the police station. Their pubic hair was gone! This was a startling remembrance. And there would be no privacy here. Needless to say, Randy also tried to “cover up”. But it was too late. “Hey looky here! They shaved! They must be fruitcakes or something!” The inmate trustee said these words, even though he knew better. He knew of the custom of police of taking large samples of pubic hair from suspects, especially cocky young white guys. It was an effective tactic to break them, to emasculate them. In this situation, it worked like a charm in the two lacrosse dudes.Then, the corrections officers ordered Randy and Tom into the shower room, and to “do what the trustee tells you, or else!” The boys knew by now that these guys really meant business. So they stood, naked, in the shower room, and, under orders from the elderly trustee, “assumed the position”, feet apart, hands behind their heads, eyes front. The trustee and the guards smiled, looking over the two young men. Smooth and well muscled blond Tom, with his face looking like an angel, or slightly older looking, and leaner and hairier Randy. Naked, and standing in this position, the sight was almost too good to be true. These were young white university lacrosse players, both of them. And now, an inmate, an African American, was standing there, hose in hand, and was in charge of them. He looked at their faces. Despite being nineteen and twenty years of age, in their vulnerable position, they looked younger-even Randy. The old man smiled as he looked them up and down. Sometimes one or the other of the boys would take a quick peek from side to side, or even make eye contact with the trustee or with one of the corrections officers. Always this would be followed by a sharp rebuke: “I said eyes front..asshole, you understand, boy!” “Uhhh, yes, sir!” The young men were obviously completely intimidated by their tormentors. This was good. They would be easy to control. They were under the power of people that last week they would have despised. The situation of their lives was now upside down. They remained in that position, a position of surrender really, for several more minutes. Then the trustee turned on the hose, and proceeded to wash the two beautiful young men. He let the hose go all over their young athletic bodies. He was sure to see to it that he got up and down their sides, and, with their legs open, he got between there too, and was sure to get their penises. After all we wouldn’t want them dirty now, would we? He thought. Finally, they were ordered to turn around, and thus reveal their naked butts to the three men. They of course could not see them, but they felt the eyes upon them. And the hose kept spraying. It was humiliating. Simply a degrading procedure that had more to do with breaking down a young man’s spirit than with hygiene. But if that was its sinister purpose, it was most effective on the two young white college athletes. And indeed, their buttocks were worth looking at, if I may say so, and not have it seem in poor taste. Then finally the inevitable order: “bend over, and spread your cheeks! Now!” The two youths were a bit surprised. They didn’t know how far this hosing down was going to go. They also knew, however, that there was nothing to do about it. So, inevitably, you guessed it, they bent over, legs spread, and pulled their buttocks wide apart for the total viewing of the three black men. Their anuses were plainly visible in this obscene position. Can’t these people at least let a man keep some of his dignity? Thought Randy. Tom was by this time on the verge of tears. This is just wrong he thought. Nevertheless, the hosing continued, with the old trustee even starting to sing! The two corrections officers were actually starting to get hard ons under their uniforms. It was too good. Two young white privileged university lacrosse punks under their power! Justice, they thought. Now they will be degraded and humiliated. That is how it should be. We have the power. All the power now. There privilege means nothing in here. And look at there anuses. One a little hairy, and one smooth and pink like a kids. Great eye candy!After this point the boys were allowed to stand up straight again, and let there privates, at least as far as their anuses go, be covered, if only by their beautiful buns. They were still naked, though. And humiliated. And above all scared. They then had to raise their arms again, straight out to the side, and submit to another humiliation. That was delousing. The trustee, his own old pecker starting to get hard by now, put some delousing powder in his hand and proceeded to toss some under each young man’s arms and between each man’s legs, near their now smooth shaved groins. Then, as an added affront, they had to bend over again, although without spreading their legs, just bending their knees, and open up the view to their anuses again. Delousing powder was spread there, too. Now these young men, stripped naked, were perfectly sanitized. Now they were ready to meet the rest of the prison population, who by now were aware of their offenses, and generally were waiting their chance to get even!Tom and Randy were then tossed some prison clothes and some underwear. “Put these on!” The two young men then got dressed in their new outfits, and were greatfil that their nudity was finally being covered. They were then led out of the shower area and into the general housing cell block area. They walked with the two black corrections officers into the big cell block area, that was full of mostly black, but some tough looking white inmates as well. It was a scary place. Tom and Randy stayed together. “No , you two are going to be separated. Don’t worry, assholes, we will find new lovers for you both! Ha Ha HA” The two boys looked at each other in horror. “See you later, bud”. They gave each other a final handshake and embrace, and each went to a different section of the prison accompanied by one of the corrections officers. Tom was led to a small cell, with three black guys in it. “In there you go!” Tom stepped inside and soon the door was slammed shut behind him, and the guard walked away, “pleasant dreams, lover boy!” Then he walked away laughing. Tom, just stood there, staring through the bars. Then he turned and sat down on one of the bunks. His three cellmates looked at each other, then at Tom. “Hey, dude, you one of them dudes that they say raped that black girl at the college?” “Yeah, I am I mean…” Tom realized his mistake; he should not have admitted who he was, although clean cut college kids like him were rare enough in this place to make him stand out. “Good, asshole, cuz, we were waiting to get a piece of you!” “Don’t you touch, me…I’ll call the guard, I will!” Tom then yelled out for the guard, but the other three guys just laughed, “you think that he cares, he’s a ‘brother’ too, even the white ones don’t care!” Then the three jumped on Tom, who fought back hard, screaming for help, to no avail. Kicking and struggling, his three attackers were driven back, only to surround Tom like a pack of wolves waiting for another chance to pounce on their quarry. Tom yelled for help some more, only succedding in getting the attention of the other inmates on the cell block, who from their cells, were enjoying the spectacle. “Fresh fish, fresh fish!” They kept yelling. “that one is about to get it”. Loud cheering, even drowning out Tom’s cries for help. Tom continued to fight, but more in desperation, as though he knew that he was only postponing the inevitable outcome. There would be no help for him in here.Tom kicked and hit his assailants at least several times. He was strong and athletic. But eventually one of them got on Tom’s back and held him from behind, putting the boy off balance and hence making his subsequent blows ineffective. But Tom kept on swinging nevertheless, futile as it was. Finally, with his arms held, and kicking instead, at least one of his attackers was in position to make a good counterattack. Wham, wham, bang bang. Repeated blows were struck into Tom’s stomach and chest. Gradually Tom grew weaker and weaker under the onslaught. He was then punched several more times in his stomach, and eventually went limp, collapsing under the weight of the blows. At that point his other two attackers had more of an opportunity to join in the assault. Tom was finished, and clearly being beaten into submission. It was no use to resist at this point. Tom fell, gasping and coughing, to the floor of the cell, on his hands and knees. The other inmates watched on, and cheered. “Now, we begin the fun part! Let’s get this bitch!”Laughing and smiling, the three men then lost no time in ripping off Tom’s shirt. They revealed Tom’s strong tanned, but bruised upper body. Then the boy’s pants were pulled down, all the way to his ankles. His shoes the attackers didn’t even bother with. The onlookers outside watched from their cells and cheered some more. It was a great show. “Nice ass.” “Look at that butt!” “Wow, I sure would want a piece of that!” “How many cartons of smokes are you selling ‘her’ for?” The yelling and cheering continued. Tom, just laid there being stripped. He was by now too stunned to offer any more resistence. He was now naked, except for his shoes and socks, which of course only served to make him look even more exposed. He was still trying to get up, but was shoved back down on his hands and knees. “Down, bitch!” Tom stayed down, remaining almost naked on his hands and knees, then he felt something weird. It was hands on his bare bottom, feeling and kneading his cheeks, like dough. “Nice, nice, nice smooth ass, like marble, yeah, firm, nice ass,” Someone kept saying. Tom’s face went red. This was totally humiliating. He felt his buttocks actually being pulled open by one pair of hands, while the other two held his back and his head, keeping him in the down position. Various comments were made about his body. Until now, Tom never really understood what it felt like being raped. His whole manhood, no, even his feeling of being a person, was disintegrating. Tom next felt a hand feeling all the way between his buttocks, which, being on his kness with his legs fairly spread, were pretty much open. The fingers felt Tom’s anus, and worked their way down all the way to the young blonde’s scrotum, and his penis then to his groin. “Hey, its smooth here!” His assailant noted the shaved groin area of the young man. “Why is that, bitch? You a fag, or what?” “Well, one thing is clear, if you ain’t a fag yet, you soon will be!” Tom didn’t answer. He kept his head low. The physical violation made him too humiliated to say anything. Then he felt something on his anus. It was cold and wet. At first he thought it was a penis, but it wasn’t. It was his assailant’s mouth! He was biting and licking the area between Tom’s buttocks and biting and licking his anus as well. Tom kept his head down. In a strange sort of way, it actually felt exciting! It was humiliating, but Tom couldn’t resist, so he closed his eyes, and started to relax. He actually began to feel a strange pleasurable sensation. It was starting to make him feel sexually excited. Even his own penis started to get hard. This was shameful to him. Was he a fag? He thought. The two other black guys kept holding Tom down, and the third, behind him with his hands opening Tom’s cheeks, kept licking and biting and spitting, thus violating the young lacrosse player’s body in a most intimate way. Tom started to moan and get hard. It went on for several minutes with Tom’s butt crack getting filled with saliva. Then his assailant backed up, and statrted to undo his own trousers, and reveal a huge black dick, which was rock hard solid. He lined it up with the young man’s spit covered anus, and pressed home. It penetrsated the young guys hole, which was already partially relaxed from all the feeling and fondling it endured. Tom felt some pain, but not as much as you would expect. The penis pushed deeper and deeper into the hole, until it could go no further, it was in all the way up to the black man’s balls, which were banging Tom’s much smaller pair. To Tom it felt weird, a dick all the way inside his body. It hurt, yes, but then he started to relax, as though he was about to move his bowels. It seemed as though the dick was going in all the way to his stomach. Tom, in a perverse sense, was almost enjoying it. His body relaxed, and his bowels loosened, his anus got larger, and soon the assailant was pumping in and out, to the cheers of inmates, as that big black dick pulled out, spit and shit came out of Tom’s loose hole. Tom, humiliated and completely submissive, breathed heavy and started to moan louder and louder. He lost the psychological ability to resist, and just started to moan and get almost as loud as his cheering attackers. “Uhh uhh, oh yeah…uhh..uhh, oooo, yeah, more , oo yeah, my ass, more ohh yeah…you are the man…oooo my ass yeah” Tom was actually asking for more! What was the use? He may as well enjoy it! Then the other two took turns on Tom, with the same result. Tom was rock hard and full of sexual delight down there. No use in resisting now! In the end the three black men ejaculated in Tom, and on him as well. Tom, for his part, rolled over on his back, exhausted and flushed red from the experience. He lay there, naked, on his back, his one knee bent, with his shoes still on, covered with cum, his erection gradually receding, and his eyes shut. He was a beauty like that. He was also sexually broken. No future assailant who wanted a piece of him would have any problem. The three looked down and smiled. They knew that they would, in the coming days, make some good money off this beautiful blonde white boy. Wow, what a gorgeous sight, him lying there like that!By this time, of course Randy was led to a different cell block, and to a different set of roommates. He proceeded into a cell occupied, as was the case with his teammate Tom, by three other inmates. In this case, however, two of the other inmates were white, like Randy. The two white guys, one slender and the other bald and overweight were members of some local motorcycle gang. Both sported tattoos on their well muscled arms. Randy nodded at his cell mates, and then sat down on one of the bunks. The black guy looked him over, and nodded to the other two men. Randy, for his part, soon felt the urge to take a leak. The cell, although small for four people, had a sink and a toilet, of course no stall. Randy walked over to the toilet, opened his fly, and proceeded to relieve himself. As he was doing this, he noticed that the skinny white guy was checking him out. “Hey, dude, nice cock you have.” Randy just finished. He felt awkward talking while in the middle of urinating. Finally, he finished and was relieved to be able to close up his fly. After all, what does someone say to a remark like that?“Hey, dude, I here you are one of them University lacrosse players they got locked up in here. I was dying to meet you. Hey, you know you look real cute. How about it, dude, why don’t you and me be bunk buddies? You see my friends? They can be your friends, too? Hey, we all need friends, and you’re real cute? What do you look like naked? Hey, when you get into the showers we will have a better chance to check you out, but how about stripping for us so we can have a preview?” The three men laughed at this. Randy didn’t know what to say. “Look, I am not gay, and I, uhh, don’t like guys looking at me like that. I am not that kind. If you guys want to do that to each other, fine, but count me out!” “Ha, bullshit, you college jocks are all queers! Come on, all those group showers! You guys are always smacking each other on the ass. Hey, I bet you love it when practice is over, so you can check out all your pretty boy buddies in the locker room and in the showers. Hey, is there any guy in particular that you like smacking his ass? I bet there is.” Randy’s face turned red. The truth be told, he was no stranger to the camaraderie of the locker room. And, there were times indeed, after practice, when he did kind of get of rush from touching the buttocks of a teammate. But he still never thought of himself as gay. He was confused. At this point of indecision, the black guy joined the skinny white guy and approached Randy. Randy tried to step back, but hit the wall behind him. Then the skinny white guy said “Get ‘em!” The two rushed foreword, butRandy fought back hard, and after a few minutes of scuffling it seemed, was about to successfully protect his honor, if only temporarily. Then at a pont in the fight where Randy had his two assailants backed up, and he was standing in the middle of the cell, the big fat White Motorcycle dude got up off his bunk, and grabbed Randy from behind, in a chokehold. Randy’s breathing was cut off by this man’s powerful and huge right arm. “I see, guys, you can’t even take care of a college punk, I’ll have to help you two!” Randy struggled, but his breathing was cut off, and soon he was having trouble even staying conscious. The other two laughed, looked at each other and smiled. Then the white one said, “well, let’s have some fun!” Then the two, casually and with little urgency, proceeded to undress Randy, as though it was simply a minor housekeeping chore. They even whistled while they were doing it! Randy, gasping for breath and trying to stay conscious, was soon under no illusions about what was happening. He couldn’t look down, but he felt his clothes getting looser, and felt the air on his skin. Then he wished he would pass out. He remembered the conversation, and even without looking down he knew the truth. These two men were taking off his clothes! He was being stripped naked! His undershirt, which because of the chokehold, could not be pulled over his head, was torn to pieces. His underpants were already removed. A comment came from one of the two about his shaved pubes. Randy was choking, but still conscious. Maybe that is all they are going to do, he thought. But he knew that wasn’t true. Tears started to fill his face and roll down his cheeks. He knew at that point that it was no use. He was going to be raped.Finally, the choke hold was released. Randy, either because he was out of air, or because he was psychologically traumatized, I don’t know, but he fell to his knees. He was entirely naked. In this instance his attackers even took off his shoes and socks. They stood over him. “We got something for you, dude! We got it from the kitchen!” Randy looked up. The thin white guy picked up a can of Crisco and showed it to Randy. “We’ll just apply some!” Then he kicked Randy over, on his hands, and then shoved his face down to the floor, where the black guy held his head down, leaving Randy’s ass on bent knees, high in the air. Randy’s face turned red with shame. The grease was being applied, liberally, to his anus, and all over the area between his buttocks, which were of course wide spread given the position Randy was in. He never had a lot of fat back there anyway. You might say that he had a lot of “fat” there now, though, if you want to make a joke out of it. Randy lay there, on his knees, face held down to the floor by the black guy, with a greased ass. If only he knew, though, what was happening behind him, his level of terror would have been far greater. The truth is his attackers had something more in store for him than just a rape. The huge, fat, ugly and bald, white guy full of tattoos, and with massive arms and fat hands, was covering his right hand with the grease!The other two men looked at each other and grinned. Then they increased there holds on Randy. The black guy really trying to hold Randy’s head and neck, and the skinny white guy bending back Randy’s arm behind his back, almost to the breaking point. This seemed excessive to Randy. After all, he was already subdued. Then the fat guy leaned back, aimed his greased fist at Randy’s greased ass, and, throwing all his weight foreword, threw one massive punch……WHAM!!!! At this point I cannot describe the sound that came out of Randy. It was loud, it was weird. And for a man with a normally deep masculine voice, it was high pitched. Everyone in the prison, guards include, heard it. How could they not. It was like a thousand little girls screaming. It was loud and high pitched. For Randy the pain was unbelievable. It was as though his entire body was being torn in half, like a perverse King Solomon had split him in two like the baby in the story. But this was no King Solomon. This was three cons taking vengeance on a rapist because they knew full well that his money and his lawyers would get him out of here in a few days. And one would have thought that this was biologically impossible, except that it happened. The big fat man’s fist and even his forearm penetrated Randy’s anus and tore right through his sphincter muscles and buried themselves deep inside of the young man. The fat man was literally, up to his right elbow in Randy’s body. It was sick, perverted, and weird. The three attackers let out a loud cheer and released Randy. The fat guy pulled out his arm. It was covered with grease, blood, and excrement. Randy had blood and feces shooting from his now torn open bowels. When he was released he just collapsed, prone on his belly, naked, and spread eagled, on the floor of the cell. Blood and shit flowed from what used to be his anus. It was now a huge, greasy and oozing hole. Then the two other men, copying the fat man, also shoved there hands inside their victim. They didn’t need him on his knees to do this though. And they didn’t need to go about any real effort, either. The hole was large enough to accommodate their arms. They just stood over Randy, knelt down, and shoved their hands up his bare ass, between his spread legs. It was fun for them.Then the three men got up, and washed there hands. And sat back, smiling. Then a guard came by. He saw what happened. He was very angry. “Okay, guys, I can see what happened here! I am not going to tolerate this! Look at this mess! You three are going to clean this cell out now. I am going to get the mops out. This cell is a shithole! Hey, I don’t care who you rape, but I am responsible for the cleanliness of this cell block, and you three better clean up this mess!” Oh, well, every bit of fun has its price, and after Randy’s body was removed and taken to the hospital, they had to scrub the entire floor of the cell for all the blood, grease, shit, spit, cum, etc. etc, etc., that were left there. The guard was right. It was a mess. They resented mopping though. “Hey, how come those college boys never seem to be mopping!” “That shows what you know! I gave mop duty not a half hour ago to the blonde headed kid. You know, its funny, but, according to the two guys he was with, he slipped, fell, his pants came down, and somehow, the mop handle ended up stuck in his rectum. Ain’t that weird?” “Uhh, yeah, yes, sir, its very strange, I don’t know how that could have happened.” Then the guard, and the three inmates all started laughing. In the next two weeks, the two college lacrosse players were released from the jail. The police didn’t have enough evidence. Their lawyers got their confessions tossed out. Many people thought the two got away easily for rape. Tom and Randy knew better. They quite lacrosse, and had to undergo months of hospitalization for there damaged parts. The psychological counseling, however, took years. They learned what it was like to be a victim, and regretted what they had done. For now on, they learned to respect African American women, and not to taunt them, lest they be accused of rape. Justice had been done.