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- 02/12/2025
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Operation Ganymede - 12. Chapter 12 - The Shadows of Obedience
The Shadows of Obedience" follows young Arnfried during an interrogation by Dettman. Under the guise of a preparation test for the Mission, Dettman intrusively explores both Arnfried's physique and psychology, unveiling the abuses of power and the submission to which he aims to prepare his "candidates".
9:20 PM, Room of the Two Hitlerjugend, Arnfried Klein and Amalrich Eiseinmann
The twilight had draped the room in deep shadows, the flickering light of a lantern adding an almost ghostly atmosphere. Arnfried Klein, sprawled on his bed, let out an exasperated sigh after the officer's comment.
— Pff… it was tough when he said that thing about checking if we were "comfortable"!
He began to take off his shirt, so large it floated around him like an ill-fitting sail, a mocking smile on his lips.
— Haha yeah, did you see that?
— How would you feel if…
Amalrich's voice was cut off by a sharp call at the door.
— KLEIN!
— Oh, what now?
The door opened with a sinister creak, revealing a young messenger, a "pimpfe", in charge of the night dispatch. His silhouette was outlined in the gloom, one hand on the handle, the other holding a message.
— The Oberleutnant is calling for you!
— NOW??
— Ja. He said in his office.
The words echoed through the room, leaving Arnfried bewildered, his shirt half-open. Amalrich, the "blond" of their duo, shrugged, looking just as confused:
— W… what should I do? Go like this?
He pointed to his disheveled attire, the drooping shirt.
— Ja… in any case, that’s what I would do.
— OK OK.
Arnfried's fingers, clumsy under pressure, fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, barely fastening them before undoing them again.
Knock knock…
— ENTER!
— KAMERAD KLEIN, SQUAD B, ACAD…
— Ja ja, that’s fine. Sit down.
The atmosphere in the officer's office was heavy, imbued with a mix of polish and cold tobacco. Klein sat on the worn chair, facing the desk, under the inquisitive gaze of the officer who brought another chair closer, his interest almost palpable.
— I'm starting with you for the private interviews.
Arnfried's confusion was evident, his eyes searching for a comfortable position, wondering if his legs should be open or closed, his back against or not against the backrest.
— Don’t worry. This is just an interview for the mission. Even if the questions I'm going to ask might seem somewhat... how shall I put it... disturbing... I need to know a bit more about each of you to avoid unnecessarily exposing you to risks you couldn't handle. Okay?
Arnfried, still perplexed, received this speech like gibberish, his back still unsure of its place.
— Perfekt. But first, did you find what I asked for?
— T… the underwear? Ja. There was one in the basket.
— Mmm… Show me.
— H… how? Here??
— Hurry up, show me!
With nervous haste, Arnfried attempted to undo the button of his too-tight shorts, standing up abruptly, uncertain of what to do next.
— S… should I lower them??
— JAA… HURRY!
What followed was a comedic struggle to get the shorts down, his hips swaying from side to side until they finally gave way, falling to his knees.
— Gut. Jaa…
The officer pulled at the shirt that had fallen onto Arnfried's thighs.
— Take it off, please.
— T… the shirt??
— Go on!
Arnfried redid the buttons he had just done up, finding himself bare-chested, shorts at his knees, facing the officer, a palpable vulnerability in the air.
— Ah, well there you go… now we can see better! Guut… with this (pointing at the underwear and its "condition") you’ll pass for a real local or who knows, a city kid come to take shelter in the area! Turn around.
Arnfried complied, each movement accentuating the discomfort caused by the holes in his underwear and the shorts clinging to his thighs. He made a half-turn, then a quarter, adjusting his movements with his knees almost stuck together.
— Like this?
— AH JAA… OKKK… PERFEKTT!! More true to life! Then, as if coming back to his senses: OK. Gut. Sit back down.
Arnfried reached for his shirt, but:
— NEINN!
— N… nein?
— Nein. And not the shorts either, leave them where they are. You need to get used to it.
The officer, with feigned nonchalance, picked up the beige file he had already gone through that morning.
— OKK... You told me that you have?
Arnfried's voice trembled with emotion.
— M… my age… ah… uh… (emotion when it grips you!) ...14... 14 years old, mein Oberleutnant.
— And three months, right?
(Damn… the same mistake as this morning!!) Arnfried quickly corrected himself: JA MEIN OBERL…
— OKK. Tell me... where are you in terms of growth?
— H… how so?
— Are you already a man?
Arnfried, bewildered, stammered:
— Uh… I… I don't know. …I mean, I…
— "Be at ease," I've already told you. I just want to know where you stand in terms of your development.
— Devel… ? Well… g… good!
— Meaning? If you had to compare yourself to others your age, what would you say?
— Uh… like them. …I think.
— You think or you're sure?
— Ye… I'm sure. Same as them!
The officer, with a scrutinizing look, pointed directly at the boy's crotch:
— Here, for example, where are you at?
— THERE?! Uh…
— I know, these are questions that might seem embarrassing, but if you can't handle even such mundane questions, you might as well know now that I won't be able to keep you on the list of candidates!
— Uh no-no, it's fine!
— OK. So?
The officer kept his finger pointed, making the situation even more uncomfortable. Arnfried, his eyes downcast toward the indicated area, answered:
— Well (looking this time at the spot as well) ...h… hair… do you mean?
— Exactly!
— Y… yes, I have some.
— A lot?
— A little, yeah…
— Since when?
— Last year.
— Perfekt! Color?
— Uh… like my hair!
— Meaning?
— Brown… but not quite. A bit more… I don't know… lighter.
— Chestnut?
— Uh… yeah, like that.
— OK. Where? Above the penis? Under the testicles?
— Above.
— And below?
— Nein.
— Sure?
— Yes yes.
The officer noted each answer with suspicious meticulousness, intensifying Arnfried's discomfort. These questions far exceeded those asked during medical visits at the Academy.
— OK. Have you ever had sexual intercourse?
— Sex… NO!
— Sure?
— JA JA MEIN OBERL…
— OKOK. So never had intercourse with a girl?
Arnfried shook his head no. At least this question was expected, but the next one caught him off guard:
— And with a boy?
— BOY… ?!! NO, MEIN OBERLEUNTNANT!!
— Tss… forget the doctrine classes, will you?
Arnfried, perplexed, didn't know what to respond.
— And understand well that if I'm asking all these questions, it's, as I told you from the very start, to ensure you can truly handle the framework of the mission. OK?
Arnfried nodded, his sweaty hands almost wiping on his thighs, the atmosphere growing increasingly oppressive. He had to excel, prove his courage as any good Hitlerjugend would.
The officer, with an intonation betraying a clear interest, continued:
— To check your suitability for the mission, there's still one test to pass. Stand up, please.
Arnfried, already bare-chested with his shorts pulled down to his knees, straightened up, his underwear revealing a slight bulge that betrayed the shape of his sex. He sought a point on the wall behind the officer to avoid his gaze. The officer spread his knees, inviting the boy to come between them. Arnfried complied, his heart pounding, the heat from the officer's body too close to ignore.
— Good, now stay calm.
The officer's voice, soft and almost hypnotic, accompanied his long, cold fingers as they began to explore. They first rested on the bare chest, the palms tracing circles around the nipples, awakening unknown, almost forbidden sensations. Each touch seemed to ignite a fire under the boy's skin, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.
The hands then moved down, sliding with deliberate slowness towards the flat stomach. Each movement was calculated to prolong the contact, the fingers lingering on every curve, every muscle, exploring, claiming. Arnfried, his eyes still fixed on that distant point on the wall, felt each caress like a silent burn, his breath becoming shorter, his body frozen in stoic silence.
Then, without warning, the officer's fingers leaped to the thighs. They wrapped around the firm flesh, the palms pressing gently but insistently. The movements were now bolder, the hands moving up and down the naked thighs, exploring every inch of exposed skin, every tense muscle under the pressure of that unwelcome hand. The sensation was both disturbing and strangely enchanting, leaving the young Hitlerjugend in a state of inner turmoil, his gaze still fixed on that imaginary point, refusing to look down at the hand touching him.
The officer's hand climbed a little higher on thigh, the fingers brushing the seam of the underwear. This intrusive caress provoked a recoil in the boy, his body instinctively trying to distance itself from this unwanted contact. The officer stopped, an expression of feigned incomprehension on his face.
— What's the matter, Klein? he asked, his voice betraying false innocence.
Arnfried, visibly annoyed, bit his lips, words failing him. He didn't know what to answer, his gaze still fixed on that distant point, as if to escape the reality of the situation.
The officer, insistent, then reminded him of the terms of the Mission, those he had explicitly laid out during the preceding dinner:
— Remember, Klein, for those selected in the context of the Mission, their body will no longer fully belong to them. It will belong to the Reich. This means you must feel no embarrassment, no hesitation, no compromise in any situation involving your body. You will be in service of a cause greater than yourself, and your commitment must be absolute.
The officer, staring at Arnfried with increased intensity, then posed the crucial question:
— So, Klein, what is your decision?
In Arnfried's mind, the words echoed, mingling with fear, confusion, and an acute awareness of what his "yes" would imply. The officer's hand was poised, waiting, ready to continue its path.
After a moment of heavy silence, Arnfried, reluctantly, took one step forward, then another, to reposition himself between the officer's knees.
The latter, returning to the stitching of the underwear, then went as far as to brush against the visible bulge beneath the cotton. This contact, albeit light, was a cruel reminder of the situation he was in. The officer, feeling he now had complete control over the boy, let his fingers linger, starting to palpate gently.
— You see, Klein, every aspect of your body must be known for the Mission. We must be sure you are prepared for any situation that might arise.
Through the fabric, Dettman detected the sex, first feeling the base, firm and thick, a sign of ongoing puberty. Continuing his exploration, he followed the member with increasing conviction, noting its modest yet promising length, its warmth, and a certain rigidity that betrayed the boy's unease and nervousness.
— The resistance, Klein, that you feel now, will be very useful. It prepares you to never falter, even in the toughest moments of the Mission.
Taking his time, his fingers explored more precisely, detecting the outline of the glans, slightly more voluminous through the fabric, indicating the foreskin was still well present, not retracted, which gave him a brief thrill. Dettman even amused himself by trying to guess the shape of the foreskin, feeling its flexibility and how it partially enveloped the glans.
— As I told you, your body is now a tool for the Reich. In this capacity, every part must be known, used for the common good. That's the price of total commitment.
Moving up to the pubic area, his fingers gently caressed through the fabric, trying to discern the state of the hair. He felt a slightly rough texture, suggesting the hairs were few but present, sparse, offering a soft, light sensation under his inquisitive fingers.
— Now look, even the smallest details are important. All this is part of your education, your preparation. Never let silence trouble you, Klein, because in silence, the enemy can grow. Speak, act, always for the Reich.
All this time, the officer spoke in a calm, almost hypnotic voice, masking his true intentions under a veil of discourse on devotion and service, leaving no moment of silence for Arnfried's discomfort to grow too large.
Arnfried felt trapped in a whirlwind of contradictory emotions. The horror of what was happening, this invasion of his personal space, his integrity, was almost palpable. He felt each pressure, each movement of the officer's fingers as a violation, a desecration of his being. Yet, the words of the Oberleutnant echoed in his mind, reminding him of his duty, his mission, the self-sacrifice for the Reich.
"My body is no longer mine, it belongs to the Reich. I must feel no embarrassment or hesitation..." he thought, the words blending with fear, creating a tearing internal conflict. Each caress seemed to reinforce this notion of absolute duty, of service to a cause greater than himself, but at what cost? Arnfried wondered if he could truly dissociate from his own body, if he could endure this ordeal to prove his commitment.
The officer, satisfied with the submission of the one he held between his knees, continued, his fingers now more daring, touching directly, almost with a certain reverence, what the boy kept as most intimate and private. Arnfried, his eyes still fixed on that distant point on the wall, felt part of himself detach, seeking refuge in mechanical obedience, a dissociation of his mind from the physical reality of the moment.
But deep inside, a voice screamed, howled against this injustice, this manipulation. Was the notion of duty supposed to go this far? Was he really meant to sacrifice his humanity, his dignity, for a mission that at that moment seemed far removed from any glory or honor?
Then, the officer made a sign to indicate it was over. Relieved, Arnfried didn't waste time, struggling to pull up his shorts, a task he anticipated to be as arduous as taking them down had been! He fidgeted, pulled, and finally managed to put them back in place, though not without difficulty.
Meanwhile, the officer, feigning to be absorbed in his notes, scribbled a few words on the file from the beginning of the interview. Arnfried, still in shock from what he had just endured, retrieved his shirt and put it on, his hands trembling, awkwardly buttoning it up.
Once ready, feet together and body straight, Arnfried executed a rigid Nazi salute, launching a "Heil Hitler, mein Oberleutnant" that bizarrely brought a bit of normalcy back to what had been so surreal!
The officer responded with a simple nod, still seemingly preoccupied with his file. Klein then turned to grab the door handle, but before he could leave, the officer added:
— Tell Eiseinmann it's his turn to come down.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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