I, too, was one of those kids. My parents took the method described by laramary.
Refusing (and “forgetting”) to do homework had started out as boredom, became about control, and evolved into open warfare. I, too, could entertain myself with just about anything. They stripped my bedroom down to nothing but furniture and blankets, so I would have nothing to do but homework. They assigned me pointless tasks (writing the same thing over and over). Sign in/sign out sheets, two-parent supervision at the dining-room table. Everything that is listed in the “by force if necessary” method of homework assurance was tried. I was so oppresively supervised and disciplined that the only thing I had left was control over my grip on the pencil. So I would. Not. Write. The phase lasted far (FAR) longer than it would or should have naturally, because it became a pride thing. It took a long time for our relationship to finally heal from the Homework War.*
I think what would have worked for me (before it became a war) is what you seem to be doing with your son (as mentioned in your last post). I saw homework as pointless. If they could have made it seem useful to me, instead of making it about control, I would have done it. This may be easier for you, because in my case, I was acing my tests. I didn’t need the reinforcement to learn the concepts. Maybe if you can turn your son on to the concepts, the homework will follow.
I had a fabulous history teacher, who asked me why I didn’t do my homework. I told him I found it pointless and boring. Instead of saying the same thing everyone else said (“We all have to do things we don’t like! Everything can’t be fun!”), he said, “Well, what if I gave you homework that wasn’t boring?” So while the rest of the class was answering the questions at the end of the chapter, he’d highlight some random person or even barely mentioned in the text, and have me research it. He would assign me other books to read. He let me poke through his collection of early 20th century magazines (oh, how I loved that). Was this unfair to the rest of the class, me getting special treatment? Probably. But he sure made me love to learn. And I always did my homework for his class.
*Sometimes, even, I’m not sure it is healed. A dozen years, a bachelor’s degree, honors in my major, and a successful career underway. . . and when my last company folded and I called them to say, “I got laid off,” the first words out of my father’s mouth were, “Were you doing your work?”