The Siege of Yodfat

By Alpenhorn
alpenhorn@hackermail.com


Copyright 2018 by Alpenhorn, all rights reserved

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now. 

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The Siege of Yodfat
[Alpenhorn 2018]

In 1975, when I went into eighth grade, my parents sent me to Yeshiva Yodfat, a Jewish day-school here in Brooklyn.  It seemed my mother did not like what I had been learning from all the goyim in the public schools of Brooklyn.  So they sent me to a Nice Jewish School, thinking it would make me into a Nice Jewish Boy.  (But she was wrong.  I could learn just as many nasty things from the kids at a Jewish school as I could from the kids at a public school.)  Objections from me?  If you knew my mother, you would know that I had no say in the matter.

Yeshiva Yodfat was not too bad.  It was very relaxed for a Jewish school.  We wore normal clothes.  We did normal things.  The school had grades 8 to 12, and we followed the same curriculum as the public schools.

One difference: we did have to learn about Jewish things.   Mostly Jewish culture and history, not much on religion.  The lunchroom served kosher meals.  Oh, the worst thing: there were separate classes for boys and girls.  Even the lunchroom had a stripe across the floor; boys had to sit on our side, girls on their side. 

Just beyond the boundary of the school property at a normal public school you might see kids smoking or buying junk food.  But at Yeshiva Yodfat, just beyond the boundary you would see boys holding hands with girls ... or even kissing.  No stopping hormones!

*

It was the first day of school.  As an eighth grader, I was known as a “shmona”, after the Hebrew word for “eight”.  The shmonas like me were getting lost in the building.  There were 20 shmonas; 11 boys and 9 girls.

Whenever they wanted to, the older kids made us stand at attention, look straight ahead, speak only when spoken to.  But then they would help us find our classes.  Or invite us to join the clubs.

A tenth grader made me and some of the other shmonas line up.

‘You, what's your name?’ he asked.

‘Austin,’ the kid replied.

‘That doesn’t sound Jewish.’

‘Sorry.  My parents were not very religious.’

‘That's OK.  You’re not the only one around here.’

He went on to the girl next to Austin.  ‘And you are ...?’

‘Mary Ann.’

‘Again, not a typical name for a Jewish girl.’

‘There is a story about that.  It seems my parents had planned to call their first child “Moishe Aaron” after the appropriate relatives.  But to their surprise, I was a girl.  So ... Mary Ann.’

‘And what’s your name?’   He pointed at me.

‘Joe,’ I answered.  ‘Joseph, actually.’

‘Good,’ he said.  ‘A real Jewish name.  And what is that “Yodfat” the school is named for?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Does anyone know?’

No one answered.

‘Not surprising.  Well, on the tenth of next month we will celebrate Yodfat Day at our school.  A special event after school, when the students have the building to themselves.  By then, you had better know what Yodfat is.  Or you’ll be sorry.’

‘How come they let the students be here alone?’  I asked.

‘Joseph!  Did I tell you to speak?’

‘No.  Sorry.’

‘I will answer anyway.  One day a year, we celebrate Yodfat.  The students stay after and clean the school.  It is our way of showing respect to the staff.  Now, get to class.’

*

There were rumors about Yodfat Day.  Strange and wonderful rumors.  But no real information.  When we asked about it, the older kids just smiled.  Austin’s big sister is in this school.  But even she would not tell him what happens on Yodfat Day.  Except, of course, that we clean the school.

It was true, though.  On that day all the staff left after school.  Teachers, office staff, lunch ladies, even the janitor: they all left.  We students remained.  A twelfth grade boy named Levi took charge of the boys, and a twelfth grade girl named Ruth took charge of the girls.  The boys would clean the main floor and the girls would clean upstairs.

Levi assigned the shmona boys to clean the showers and dressing rooms near the gym.  We were happy because we would get to see the inside of the girls’ dressing rooms and showers.  But that was a disappointment.  No difference from the boys’ side.  Except for big signs by the toilets, “Do not flush tampons!”

Something did happen to us.  We were scrubbing the walls of one of the shower rooms.  There was some horseplay.  And somehow the water was turned on.  We all got wet.

Levi came storming in and gave us a lecture.  But for some reason he seemed to be almost smiling while he did it.

‘Take off your wet clothes.  Hang them here on the racks to dry.  Then we’ll go into the gym for the fun part of Yodfat Day.’

‘Take off everything?’  one boy complained.

‘Everything that’s wet.’

Everything I had on was wet.  The other boys, too.  At least Levi let us keep our undies.  Fortunately I wore boxers that day.  The others’ undies included everything from white cotton briefs to tight skimpy European styles.

*

We went into the gym, feeling self-conscious about being almost naked.  When the older boys came into the gym after finishing their cleaning, they teased us about it.  We all laughed.

Levi explained the schedule: ‘First we have the shmona quiz; then we do the re-enactment; and finally refreshments upstairs in the lunchroom.’

Then he gave a big smile.  ‘With no teachers here, we won’t have to stay on our own side.’

We cheered.

‘Quiz time.  Shmonas:  Tell me about the siege of Yodfat.’

Fortunately, we had all known what the question would be, and we were ready.  We took turns, each adding more information.

Yodfat was a walled city in Israel.  In 87 AD, before their final destruction of Jerusalem, a Roman army under General Vespasian attacked Yodfat.  The siege lasted 47 days.  It was a bloody battle, but in the end the Romans destroyed the place, killing or capturing everyone living there.  Today, all that is left are some Roman siege ramps.

Forty of the leading men of the city, all that remained, took refuge for the night in a cave.  But they knew the Romans would be there the next morning.  They resolved that they would rather die at their own hands than be killed or taken captive by the Romans.  (It’s not as famous as Masada, but Yodfat was first.)

Suicide was considered a great sin.  So they came up with a scheme to avoid it.    They all stood in a circle.  Then counted from 1 to 7.  The seventh man would be killed by the others.  Then they continued counting 1 to 7 around the circle.  And killed that man.  And so on, until only one was left.  That man would have to surrender.

The one who surrendered became a slave of General Vespasian.  He was freed when Vespasian later became Emperor.  He took the name Josephus in Latin.  He wrote a history of the Jewish people, including the story of this siege.

‘Well,’  Levi said after we had finished.  ‘Some of that is true.  And some of it is all mixed up.’

He paused.  Consulted a few others.  ‘Your version was not too bad for mere shmonas.  You pass.’

We cheered.

‘Now we will do the re-enactment of the Siege of Yodfat.  The shmonas will play the men in the cave.’

We looked at each other.  A bit worried.

‘Don't worry.  No one will really be killed.’

I heard one of the other twelfth graders mutter quietly, ‘You may wish you had been killed, though.’

‘All shmona boys in the center of the gym.’

‘Can we get dressed first?’  I asked.

‘No, you may not.  Undies only.’

‘Stand in a circle.  No, you should be facing outward.  Back up toward the center.’

It was a little awkward.

‘Now I want you to link your arms at the elbows.  Interlace your fingers in front of you.  This way, if one of you gets cold feet and wants to turn coward, the guys on each side will be there to prevent it.’

I squirmed a little to test it.  Yes, guys on both sides holding me could definitely prevent me from breaking away.

There we were.  Eleven boys, standing back to back in a circle, arms linked.

And wearing only our undies.

Wet undies.

Eli called, ‘Next step.  Mo: open the door.’

Mo opened one of the doors to the gym.

The girls came in!  They had been quietly waiting in he corridor.  Waiting until the shmona boys were immobilized.  Now they came in.  They made crude comments about our bodies.  With no teachers there, even some the girls had foul mouths.

I suppose there is a psychology experiment here somewhere.  Of course we could all escape if we all just let go of each other.  But I could not escape acting alone.  Eli told me to keep holding my two neighbors.  I guess my subconscious was thinking: “I can’t get away, therefore I won’t let those two get away.”  Not entirely logical, in hindsight.

*

Eli and Ruth took charge.  All the others, boys and girls, were standing and watching.

They chose one spot in the circle at random.  Then started counting 1 2 3 around the circle up to 7.  At 7 they were somewhere behind me so I could not see.  Everyone except those of us in the circle had followed them around, so they were on that side, too.  The whole school, nearly 100 kids.

‘And you are...?’ said Eli to number 7.

‘Simon,’ the kid replied.

Eli said loudly, ‘Everyone: meet Simon.’

‘Hi, Simon,’ the gang replied.

‘Hello,’ said Simon, quietly.

‘You two, Simon’s neighbors: hold on tight,’ said Ruth.

‘OK.’

‘Ready?’  said Eli.  ‘Go.’

Simon let out a loud shriek.  I could not see what they did to him.  But I could feel him struggling:  Our whole circle was wobbling back and forth from it.

The kids watching were making a racket as well.  Laughing, shouting, and whistling.

Simon was loudly berating Eli and Ruth.  His language was, let us say, not permitted in this school.  My Bubbe used to say (as she washed my mouth out with soap) that using bad words just shows I have a poor vocabulary.  I think my Bubbe was wrong:  Simon had an extensive vocabulary!

Simon’s tirade lasted quite a while.  Eventually, Eli and Ruth continued around the circle.  Followed by the crowd.

‘One down,’ said Ruth.

Eli counted 1 2 3 up to 7.  It was me.  I was number 7.

‘It’s the loud-mouth,’ Eli said.  ‘Everyone: may I present Joseph.’

‘Hi, Joseph,’ they all replied.  Why were they so enthusiastic?

‘You two hold on to Joseph,’ Ruth repeated to the boys on each side of me.

Eli and Ruth stood right in front of me.  I was, to put it mildly, apprehensive.

Louder, Eli said, ‘Everyone: may I present ... the Rest of Joseph.’

The two of them grabbed my boxers and pulled them down,  below my knees.

I was so surprised I could not get my breath.  (So at least I was not swearing like Simon.)  The kids in the crowd started in again: shouting, laughing, whistling, pointing, leering.  But this time they were doing it because I was on display.  I tried to get my arms loose, but there was no getting away from my two neighbors. 

‘Two down,’  said Ruth, after a while.  Everyone laughed because “down” had a double meaning.

The process continued.  Eli counted 1 2 3 up to 7, skipping the ones with their undies around their ankles.  Stopping at boy number 7 each time to reveal the “Rest” of him.  Whenever the group circled around past me, they looked again at my no-longer private parts.  Some were trying to learn the shmonas’ names; each time they passed they would say: ‘Hello, Joseph; hello, Rest of Joseph.’

By the time four or five of us were on exhibit some of the kids started making comparisons between the different genitalia.  Longer or shorter.  Fatter or skinnier.  Bouncy or droopy.  Color of glans.  Amount of pubic hair, if any.

‘Here’s the shortest one!’  I don’t know who that was, but I’m glad it was not me.

Finally, there was only one shmona left who was not “down”.

‘Max, right?’

‘Yes.’  He was still held in place by the naked guys beside him.

‘Max, you are our Josephus.  Mazel Tov.  You get to keep your pants on.’

‘Thank you!’ Max was shouting.

Max (wearing only skimpy briefs) was smiling about how much he was wearing, compared to the other shmonas.

‘OK everyone,’ Ruth announced.  ‘We have fifteen minutes left before we eat.  Shmona boys: keep holding on to your neighbors.  We wouldn’t want them to get away, right?  Everyone else: enjoy the sights!’

There we were.  A display circle of 10 naked boys (and Max).  With  all the students of Yeshiva Yodfat strolling and ogling,  whistling and jeering.

*

Standing there being viewed by everyone, naturally some of us got erections.  Unfortunately, I was the first one it happened to. 

There was no possibility I could get away.  And no hiding it with my hands.

‘Look, everybody,’  someone called loudly.  ‘The Rest of Joseph is showing off!’

And so everyone came to see.  And comment.  It seems my erection curved in an unusual way.  Some of them held a discussion about that. 

Who knew?  I had not seen another boy’s erection since first or second grade.  So I had never thought that my curvy one was out of the ordinary.

David was the kid on my left.  One older girl kept coming back and staring at the Rest of David.  Finally she spoke to him.

‘Hi, I’m Hannah.’

‘Dave,’ he answered, looking at the ceiling.  What a way to meet a girl.

‘Yes, I know.  How are you?’

‘At this moment?  Embarrassed.’

‘Sorry, that was a stupid question.’

David was now looking at Hannah’s face, but she was still looking down below.

After an awkward pause she asked, ‘I wondered ... Who was your mohel?’

‘What?’

‘The man who did your circumcision.  At your bris.’

‘Um... I don’t know.  I was just a baby.’

‘You see, he did it really artistically.’

What a pick-up line!

Dave was red in the face.  ‘I guess I could ask my parents.’

I was wondering how that conversation would go.  ‘Hey Ma, some girl at school was admiring how artistic my circumcision is, and she wants to know who was the mohel.’

*

Finally, they let us go and get our clothes.  We went upstairs for food.

Without our little celebration, it would have taken ages for everyone at Yeshiva Yodfat to know me.  But it had happened in just one evening.  The kids now knew me very well! 

At the school I was always called “Joseph” not “Joe”.  There were other Josephs, so the kids might sometimes refer to me as “curvy Joseph”---as if being known by my erection was no different than being known by my hair color.









   
   
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