Secret of the village



       Shouta Magatsuchi stumbled as the familiar walls of his bedroom vanished, replaced by a sprawling forest bathed in dim, emerald light. The air smelled of damp earth and moss, and towering trees stretched endlessly above, their branches weaving a thick canopy that swallowed the sun.
       —W-where am I? —He stammered, clutching his small hands together as his heart thudded in his chest—.
       Before any of it happened, Shouta had been practicing his magic abilities as usual; testing circles, runes, and enchantments. Something must’ve gone wrong for him to end up somewhere else.
       It all felt familiar yet alien; like being transported to another universe that just barely resembles the original.
       Before he could process the shift, a rustling erupted nearby. Instinctively, he shrank back, expecting a monster –perhaps something even worse. Instead, a boy stepped out from the underbrush, his sharp eyes and strange attire catching Shouta off guard.
       —W-Who are you?! —Shouta demanded to know—.
       —Ah! Sorry! Sorry! —The little boy covered his face in fear, expecting an attack—. My name’s Rana, I mean no harm; I swear!
       Little by little both kids allowed each other to share glances. Rana looked to be a young boy with an androgynous appearance, with his high-pitched voice one could assume he was a girl. Of light skin and short, dark hair styled with a headband.
       His outfit included a sleeveless purple dress that added to his feminine look, paired with a turquoise bead necklace.
       And to feed into coincidence, Shouta was no different. Androgynous himself with straight purple hair falling just below his eyebrows, framing his face, and matching purple eyes that gave him a gentle, expressive appearance.
       Fair skin and rocking a light-coloured hoodie. Each other’s outfit was unknowable by the other and quickly triggered some curiosity within them –translating into immediate peace.
       —H-Hi.. —Shouta’s voice kept stuttering gently—. I’m Shouta. Where am I, exactly?
       —I don’t know. Last thing I remember is being with my mom; then a battle began and after a sudden flash of light I ended up here.
       —Fighting? —Shouta’s mind quickly thought of the dragon’s realm—. Like, dragons?
       —Wha- no! B-But my mom used to kill giants!
       —Oh, I see.. —Shouta felt disappointed—.
       —Sorry to ask so suddenly, but. —Rana swiftly switched topics—. Can you help me find my mom again?
       Shouta was reluctant at first; after all, he was lost too. There was no realistic way for him to help, but there was a chance that by helping him he could find out where he was –or better yet. How to get back home.
       And that’s how Shouta and Rana, now tentative allies, ventured deeper into the sprawling forest, their footsteps crunching softly on the mossy ground. The dim, emerald light filtering through the canopy cast eerie shadows, and the air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. Strange plants lined their path –glowing flowers pulsed faintly, and twisting vines seemed to shift as they passed. Rana stayed close to Shouta, his sharp eyes flicking nervously at every rustle, while Shouta gripped his staff, its familiar weight a small comfort against the unknown.
       —Do you think this place has monsters? —Rana asked, his high-pitched voice quivering as he tugged at his purple dress—.
       Shouta swallowed hard, his purple eyes darting around.
       —I-I don’t know. But we can’t just stand here. Let’s keep going –maybe we’ll find someone who knows what’s happening.
       They trudged onward, the forest growing denser, its silence broken only by distant hoots and snaps. Suddenly, a harsh rustling exploded from the bushes ahead. Both boys froze, hearts pounding. Before they could react, a pack of goblins burst forth –small, wiry creatures with green skin, pointed ears, and wicked grins. Their beady eyes gleamed as they brandished crude weapons: jagged clubs, a bent spear, and a chipped dagger. Six of them circled the boys, chittering in a guttural tongue.
       The lead goblin, larger than the rest, snarled and pointed its spear at Rana, lunging forward. Rana yelped, stumbling back into Shouta, who raised his hands instinctively.
       —S-stay back! —Shouta shouted, trying to summon a spell—. A flicker of light sparked from his fingers, but fear made it fizzle out. The goblins cackled, their laughter like breaking glass, and one swung its club, knocking Shouta’s staff aside.
       Another goblin grabbed Rana, its claws digging into his arm as it yanked a rope from its belt.
       —Mommy! —Rana cried, tears spilling down his cheeks as he kicked uselessly—.
       Shouta lunged to help, but a goblin tackled him, pinning him to the ground. The creatures tightened their circle, ropes ready to bind their prey.
       Just as the goblins began to drag Rana away, a deep voice roared through the trees.
       —Get off ‘em, you vermin!
       Five men crashed into the clearing, armed with a mix of tools and weapons –a pitchfork, an axe, a sword, and a heavy hoe. The leader, a broad-shouldered man with a scruffy beard, swung his axe in a wide arc, slicing through the lead goblin’s chest. The others joined in; their strikes rough but effective. A pitchfork impaled the goblin holding Rana, who scrambled free, while another man cleaved a fleeing creature with his sword.
       The fight ended swiftly –the surviving goblins screeched and fled into the underbrush, leaving their dead behind. Breathing heavily, the leader wiped his axe on the grass and turned to the boys.
       —You alright, lads?
       Shouta nodded, shaky but relieved.
       —Y-yes, thank you.
       Rana sniffled, clutching his arm.
       —Thank you... they were going to take us.
       The man grinned, his gruff face softening.
       —Name’s Takeshi. Lucky we were scouting nearby. What’re you two doing out here?
       —I’m Shouta, and this is Rana. —Shouta said, retrieving his staff—. We.. don’t really know. I think we were caught on some kind of teleportation spell.. I think…
       Takeshi scratched his beard, nodding.
       —Heard that story before. Boys like you show up sometimes. Come with us –our village isn’t far. Botan, our leader, will want to see you.
       “Sometimes?!” —Shouta thought, surprised—. “Does this mean we are not the first?”
       Exhausted and grateful, the boys followed Takeshi and his men down a winding path, the forest thinning as they approached a cluster of wooden houses nestled between fields. The village came into view, its inhabitants –all men –pausing their work to stare curiously at the newcomers.
       Takeshi guided Shouta and Rana through the village, weaving past wooden homes with thatched roofs and fields where men hoed rows of crops under the fading light. The villagers –exclusively men, their ages ranging from youthful to weathered –paused to eye the newcomers. No women or children broke the scene, only the rhythmic clinks of tools and the murmur of low voices. The air carried the scent of tilled soil and woodsmoke, a grounding contrast to the forest’s wild dampness.
       They stopped before a sturdy house at the village’s heart, its wide porch adorned with drying herbs.
       —Botan’s place. —Takeshi said, rapping on the door—. He’s our leader. He’ll sort you out.
       The door swung open, revealing Botan –a tall, broad man with grey-short hair and short beard. His simple clothes belied the quiet authority in his stance. Despite his position he looked just like the rest; a hardworking man.
       —Takeshi. —He said, then spotted the boys—. New arrivals. Come in.
       The interior glowed with the warmth of a hearth fire, its flickering light dancing across a table and scattered chairs. Botan waved them to sit.
       —I’m Botan. You’ve had a rough start, I reckon. What’re your names?
       Shouta straightened, clutching his staff.
       —I’m Shouta. This is Rana. Thank you for helping us.
       Rana, still pale from the goblin attack, nodded.
       —Thank you. —He echoed; his high-pitched voice soft—.
       Botan’s smile was warm but measured.
       —You’re safe here. Boys like you appear now and then, though we’ve no clue why. No women, either –just men. You’re welcome to stay, provided you pitch in.
       Rana tugged at his purple dress, frowning.
       —No women? At all? What about kids?
       —None. —Botan replied, his tone gentle but firm—. Our youngest here’s twenty-six, if that tells you something. It’s a mystery we’ve stopped trying to unravel. We make do.
       Rana’s lip trembled.
       —I need to get back to mom. We only got each other..
       Botan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
       —Some lads have searched for a way home –none’s found it yet. But don’t give up. We’ll lend a hand where we can.
       Shouta’s purple eyes narrowed.
       —So, we’re trapped?
       —For now; given you find a way back. —Botan said—. But you’ve got us. You’re not alone.
       The door creaked open, and a handful of villagers stepped in, drawn by curiosity. A wiry farmer grinned at Shouta.
       —I see you carry around that stick of yours. What gives?
       Shouta blinked, then nodded.
       —It’s a staff. I was testing it before I appeared here.
       —Magic, eh? —The farmer chuckled—. Fancy that.
       A gruffer voice cut in –Ryouga, a blacksmith with thick arms and a sceptical squint.
       —And you? —He asked Rana—. What’s your use?
       —I know blacksmithing! —Rana said, lifting his chin after noticing Ryouga’s attire—. My mom taught me.
       Ryouga snorted.
       —We’ll see if you’re worth the hammer.
       —Enough. —Botan interjected, his voice a quiet command—.  They’ve just arrived. Give ‘em time.
       He rose, gesturing to a side room with two narrow beds.
       —For now, you’ll need a place to stay, I have set up a couple of rooms here for newcomers. Rest up. Tomorrow, we’ll find you work, and you can meet everyone.
       Takeshi clapped Shouta’s shoulder.
       —You’ll be fine, kid.
       Shouta managed a small smile, and Rana murmured thanks. As they settled into the beds, the day’s chaos lingered in their minds –questions of home, purpose, and this strange, man-only world swirling as sleep finally claimed them.
       The following morning, Botan ushered Shouta and Rana out of his sturdy house, the scent of hearth smoke still clinging to their clothes. The sun hovered low, painting the village in soft golden light. Wooden homes with thatched roofs stretched along dirt paths, flanked by fields where men worked with quiet focus. 
       Botan walked with purpose, his grey hair catching the light as he pointed to a wide field. Men hoed rows of wheat, their shirts damp with sweat.
       —This is our lifeblood. —He said—. Wheat for bread and trade. We deal with other villages.
       Shouta’s purple eyes narrowed, his staff tapping the ground as he walked.
       —All the villages are like this?
       —Every village we’ve seen. —Botan replied, his tone even—. Some call it a curse. Others say it’s just the way of things here. No one’s got an answer.
       Rana tugged at his purple dress, his high-pitched voice trembling slightly.
       —But how do you… have families? Kids?
       —We don’t. —Botan said simply—. Boys like you show up –lost, confused. They grow, work, and keep the village alive. That’s our way.
       The boys shared a quick, uneasy glance. A world without mothers or sisters felt hollow, like a song with no melody. Shouta gripped his staff tighter, while Rana’s fingers fidgeted with his turquoise necklace.
       They moved on to a smithy, where heat rolled out in waves. Ryouga, the gruff blacksmith, pounded a glowing blade, his thick arms flexing with each strike. He glanced up, his squint fixing on Rana for a moment before he returned to his hammer.
       —Ryouga’s our smith. —Botan said—. Rana, you said you can work a blacksmith; this is where you’ll help.
       Rana swallowed hard, nodding.
       —I’ll try my best.
       Next, they reached a small orchard, where a lanky man trimmed branches with a pair of shears.
       —This is Kenji. —Botan said—. Keeps the fruit trees thriving. Shouta, he could use help if you’re up for it.
       Kenji turned, his weathered face breaking into a warm smile.
       —Plenty of branches to prune. You in?
       Shouta managed a faint smile, his purple hair falling into his eyes.
       —Sure, I can help.
       As they walked, the village’s strangeness sank deeper. No colourful clothes swayed on lines; no gentle voices drifted from doorways. The men moved with purpose, but the absence of half a world weighed on the boys like a shadow.
       They paused at a communal kitchen, where a burly cook stirred a steaming pot, he looked to be one of the young ones, with a simple  moustache and short brown hair –he wore a blue shirt and a blue bandana. The smell of stew, earthy and rich, pulled a growl from Shouta’s stomach.
       —We eat here. —Botan said—. And this is Daryl, the cook.
       Daryl grunted, ladling stew into wooden bowls. The boys took them eagerly, settling on a bench as Takeshi strolled over, his axe resting on his shoulder.
       —Settling in? —He asked, his gruff voice softened by a grin—.
       —It’s… different. —Shouta said, spooning stew into his mouth—.
       Takeshi chuckled.
       —Takes time. We all started where you are.
       Rana stared into his bowl; his voice small.
       —I miss my mom.
       Takeshi’s grin faded, but he clapped Rana’s shoulder gently.
       —Hold onto that. Might guide you yet.
       Shouta ate quietly, his eyes drifting across the village, men at work, men eating, men living in a world that felt unfinished. The stew warmed his belly, but a cold knot of unease tightened in his chest. This wasn’t home. And with every passing minute, he wondered if it ever could be.
       Finally, the last person they met at the moment came in to eat themselves. He presented himself as Tanabe; the scavenger of the village. He was a bulky man with a rather square body. Big hands, big nose, and looked like he didn’t take shit from no one without repercussions. Tanabe didn’t stay long enough to chat; but enough to intrigue the two kids.
       A such, hours passed by. The morning sun cast a golden glow over the village as Shouta and Rana finished eating, determined to prove their worth. Botan had assigned them tasks by then, and the boys were eager to contribute. Shouta headed to the orchard, where Kenji struggled with wilted trees.  
       —I can help. —Shouta said, his voice steady despite his nerves—.
       He raised his hands, and a soft purple light flowed from his fingers. The trees responded instantly –branches straightened, leaves thickened, and apples swelled into ripe, red orbs. Kenji gaped, then broke into a wide grin.
       —Well, I’ll be damned! That’s some trick, kid!
       Villagers nearby paused their work, clapping and murmuring in awe. Shouta’s cheeks flushed pink; he wasn’t used to such praise, but it warmed him all the same.  
       Meanwhile, Rana approached the smithy, where Ryouga hammered a blade with more force than finesse. The blacksmith’s thick arms glistened with sweat as he pounded the metal. Rana tilted his head, studying the work. 
       —You’re doing it wrong. —He said, his high-pitched voice cutting through the clang of steel—.
       Ryouga froze, his squint narrowing.
       —What would you know, brat?  
       Rana stepped closer, undeterred.
       —The angle’s off. You’re weakening the metal.
       Before Ryouga could protest, Rana took the hammer from a nearby bench and demonstrated. His small hands moved with precision, shaping the blade smoothly. The villagers watching whispered among themselves–“Listen to him, Ryouga! Maybe next time my knife won’t brittle, haha!” one said, chuckling. 
       Ryouga’s face darkened, his pride bruised as Rana handed the hammer back with a shy smile.
       —That was your fault! Not mine!
       As the boys regrouped later, Ryouga lingered behind, his gaze fixed on Rana. The boy’s androgynous frame and confident correction gnawed at him. 
       —I’ll teach you your place. —He muttered under his breath, his eyes glinting with something darker than mere resentment—. 
       Next thing you know, Botan approaches Ryouga to tell him to not let this get to him. Ryouga of course brushes it off, sure that he will get payback one way or another.
       Botan again warns him not to do something idiotic, but Ryouga pushes forward by teasing how they should “get a piece”. Botan reminded him that any display of lust would bring forth more goblins or beast folk to the village –but it was too late, he had made his mind.  
       That evening, Shouta and Rana sat by the hearth in Botan’s house, the fire crackling as they shared their stories. Shouta spoke of his world –dragons, magic, Kobayashi, Lucoa, Tohru, and so on. Rana, fidgeting with his turquoise necklace, recounted his mother’s battles, the queen’s blade and other events such as the “big battleaxe kid” that almost destroyed their shop once. Their differences sparked laughter, easing the tension of their strange new reality.  
       —You miss her a lot, don’t you? —Shouta asked, his purple eyes soft—.  
       Rana nodded; his voice small.
       —She’s all I’ve got. I just want to get back to her.
       Shouta thought of the girls and realized how blessed he was for having so many friends at his side, ready to help at a moment’s notice. 
       Shouta rested a hand on Rana’s shoulder.
       —We’ll figure it out together. Promise.
       A quiet bond formed between them, forged in shared displacement and hope. Exhausted, they climbed into their narrow beds, drifting off as the fire died to embers.  
       But the night wasn’t peaceful for long. Under the cover of darkness, Ryouga slipped into their room, his shadow stretching across the floor. He loomed over Rana’s bed, his breath heavy with intent.
       —Time to learn respect. —He hissed, clamping a rough hand over the boy’s mouth—.
       Rana’s eyes snapped open, wide with terror; his muffled cry stifled as he thrashed beneath Ryouga’s grip.
       He looked around to see if Shouta was there to witness and help him but soon realized that he was now alone –except for Ryouga.. Daryl and Tanabe.
       It didn’t take long for the nightmare to start, with Ryouga being merciless from the very beginning of the assault.
       With Rana under his grip, he spent no time as he went down on him like a piece of meat –licking his body as the kid shivered and cried. All while undressing both Rana and himself; a sign of hurry when you don’t know how much time you have left before people start asking questions.
       —The gods must be getting sloppy; bringing in boys that barely resemble men. Almost as if you were sent to be used.. —Ryouga monologued—. You know how long its been? I almost want to thank them for this blessing.
       For Rana, who was still in shock –it all sounded like gibberish to him. Gods, a world with only men; these things meant nothing to him when his only wish was to return home to his mother, who was probably worried sick for him. If only she was here; she would save him and bring forth justice.
       Instead, he was only able to cry her name deep within his mind, as his voice remained silenced, and his body used for lustful purpose.
       Rana tried to struggle against his captor, only to feel the pain of his insides being torn as Ryouga’s cock forced itself inside his plumpy hole.
       The violent stretching of his entrance was a glorious feeling for the abuser, his hips mashing against Rana’s butt like jelly and his insides wrapping around his dick like a suction cup trying to hold him in.
       Rana wasn’t into it; but his body was adamant to tell another tale. It got warmer, and warmer –getting worse with each thrust.
       Even under the silencing hand of Ryouga you could faintly hear a gentle moan while the act continued. Tears ran down, the pain growing worse, serving as inspiration for the others.
       It was a matter of time before one of the other two would want to join in on the fun.
       —Let’s give his mouth a better use. —Daryl whispered as he pulled out his cock—.
       It slapped Rana’s face; then it became his new muzzle as soon as Daryl forced it down his throat.
       Rana couldn’t breathe. The size was such that no air could get in or out as long as Daryl kept his member inside.
       And when it wasn’t, the kid was too busy choking on his own saliva to try and get some air. It was like a dance between life and death that gave no quarter.
       Tanabe couldn’t wait to be next, hurrying both to make it quick or at least move around so he could get his turn. It goes without saying; neither complied –expressing how much they deserved their fun too, and that as long as they get their way, Tanabe would have nothing to worry about.
       After all, there was still another visit.
       Meanwhile, Rana’s body kept breaking down more and more –almost shapeshifting to a more fitting form for taking cock.
       His guts now rested out of the way and his nose had master how to take air on its own. Even his tongue, now loosen up and dancing around Daryl’s shaft like it was a lollipop.
       Their manhood now impregnated the kid and convinced him that this was how it was meant to be. An object to be used for pleasure and nothing more.
       Long gone would be the days of working the fire, flint and stone. This was his new life.
       Both men could feel the change too, no more was Ryouga struggling to thrust his poor behind and Daryl could hardly hold it together as Rana’s tongue played with his prepuce –almost like it was meant to be. And if you looked closely, you could even notice bulges on both ends forming each time they were inside of him; and disappearing just as they pulled out.
       It was a matter of time for them to reach an orgasm together –shooting their cum at the same time inside the poor boy.
       A salty and sticky substance, the smell was even worse; but worst of all was the burning hot sensation as it went down his throat and up his hole. His legs trembled then went numb, her mouth puked semen that he couldn’t swallow, and his whole body shook like a victim of an electric shock.
       Finally had Rana turned into a living fleshlight as his mind turned blank and his consciousness died down. There was no response as both men pulled out, cum still pouring out.
       —Guess you’ll get your chance with the other one.
       Both men joked as they cleaned themselves. But if the intent was to bother Tanabe, it didn’t work –he was certain to have them keep their word as they all sneaked out.
       The next target was clear, Shouta. Probably the least deserving of this attack; as his only action was to grow the crops. Then again, a magic user was the same as a jack of all trades –anything anyone couldn’t do he could probably do it faster and better.
       He was a risk no one was willing to take.
       So, with the night still young they reached his room. Tanabe being the one to take the ropes this time before either Ryouga or Daryl’s could even think about it. Such was his desire that not even Shouta would be able to react to his swift attack.
       By the time the little wizard was able to open his eyes; not only were his pants down, but Tanabe’s cock was stiff and ready to go through heaven’s doors.
       Shouta tried to extend his arms and grab his staff, but a quick glance proved that his rapist had though well in advance –the stick was nowhere to be found.
       —Don’t worry about it, kiddo. –Tanabe whispered on a wicked voice—. Just be like your friend and it will be over in the blink of an eye.
       Shouta’s eyes widened with the mention of Rana –flooding his mind with all the possible scenarios where that made sense. An angry tear running down his eyes as he tried to fight back.
       —Just force it in, dumbass. —Ryouga mocked him—.
       How dare he question Tanabe, even if he was right. The point of it all was to do things his way; and his way called for some disturbing foreplay.
       Then again, he knew the longer he took the bigger the chances of being found out. Tanabe had no choice but to listen to the advice and force his cock down Shouta’s butt.
       The boy tried to scream; his voice completely muted out, while at the same time Tanabe’s moan was clear and loud.
       He had never felt such kinds of pleasure before. Was it because he was fucking another man? Or maybe it was his small frame which provided a tight fit. If this was what the other two experienced with Rana, no wonder they didn’t share. It was glorious.
       Thrusting yielded even better results. Feeling the pressure build up and then die down as his cock moved inside and out was starting to become addictive.
       And even better was that each time he was balls deep inside Shouta, the warmth of his body would transfer to him –urging him to go for more.
       Tanabe found he had no choice but to give in to his most wild desires and ravage this boy just as much as his partners did with Rana just moments prior.
       He would not be satisfied until Shouta had the shape of his cock; he would not reach climax until each hole was tested thoroughly. If he was going to orgasm, Tanabe would make sure it was the right orgasm; the best orgasm.
       As for Shouta, he faced a similar fate to that of Rana. His body adapting to the shape of a living fleshlight all while his mind turned off to avoid further trauma.
       By the time Tanabe was satisfied, Shouta’s body was a mess of fluids ranging from sweat, tears and cum –not only Tanabe’s, but his own too.
       Even Ryouga and Daryl were shocked by his performance. It seemed impossible to them that someone who was most likely a virgin could out-perform them enough to make them wish for a second chance. Live up to such potential.
       Shouta’s body talked the same talk. Even after being sexually harassed by a dragon to no end; there was no comparison –Tanabe’s cock was his new way to go.
       How he thrusted, the copious amounts of semen that he shot inside his little body, the smell – it all turned into something glorious as his mind dazed into oblivion; afraid to come back and face the reality of this nightmare.
       But like all things, his delirium had to end, and the truth settled in right after. Yet there was no screaming, not even a call for help.
       Just a little boy crying himself to sleep, curling up between the sheets as he wondered why this happened to him. Where had things gone wrong?
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