Assmunch

Thanks man! Yes they were nice, had a bit of a cold snap, but otherwise excellent. I hope yours were wonderful too.

Sorry about the long delay. The Holidays had a lot to do with it. But here’s the next installment. Day One - 0400 hrs. “The biggest enemy you will face is your own mind.” The bearded ex-soldier lectured as he strolled between their ranks, raking his dark eyes over each of them as he passed. The early morning was cold, near freezing temperature, and his breath steamed out into the stagnant air. He didn’t scream or yell and his tone was conversational as he spoke. “You will be hungry. You will be exhausted. You will want to give up and quit. You will want to sleep. Your resolve will be tested. You must have an iron will. The weak, the shallow, the poorly prepared will be culled from the herd. We are here to prepare you. Every one of us has endured the training you will experience and we have all succeeded. Many of us have gone beyond that training. All of us have seen combat.” Around the perimeter of the ranks the Bravos had formed were other men, clothed in khaki tactical uniforms, none of which adhered to military uniform or grooming discipline. Some had shaggy hair, some had various forms of facial hair, most stood with hands in pockets to keep them warm. All of them looked rough and unforgiving as they fixed the Bravos with deadly stares of promised punishment. “You will be instructed and tested on knowledge and skills. We will evaluate your performance of the various Battle Drills. We don’t have enough time to broaden the depth of your skills by a great deal, and your ability to learn will dictate how much we can fit into the time we have. The faster you learn, the more we’ll teach. I have been told that you are dedicated and serious, but if you think this is going to be some camping vacation in the woods we will take a pound of flesh and send you back. You will not waste our time, nor your own. I don’t know what makes you special in the eyes of the Army and I don’t care. You are not special and we are not here to coddle you. First rule: Respect given is respect earned. Second rule: Honor and Integrity among brothers. I shouldn’t have to explain that, but I will. You will be honest with yourselves, and with us, and with your squad mates and your unit. Third Rule: Pay attention…to EVERY…THING. Men, make your selections.” Thirteen men moved inwards to walk among the Bravos. “You. Follow me.” Could be heard again, and again as the men picked out their chosen soldiers. A few had four Bravos, some had three, others two, and there were three who pulled only a single Bravo behind them. Soon, they all melted away into the wooded darkness, leaving only Weeble standing there alone. He stood there for a few quiet minutes, looking around and listening. There had to be someone here, right? Sound carried far in the winter woods when the air was thin and gradually all indications of his brothers walking away disappeared. Did they mean to leave him behind? Why wasn’t he picked? Weren’t they gonna teach him too? Was he s’posed to stay here and wait? Did he miss the signal to follow one of the men? Maybe he blinked at the wrong time and missed it. He was sure he was payin’ attention like they said. It had to just be a mistake. Weeble felt a slight panic start in his stomach and move into his chest. His heart began to beat faster, his breath became short and quick. They didn’t pick him. They knew he was weak and wouldn’t be able to keep up. He wasn’t going to move on with the other Bravos. The day he’d been dreading had finally come. It didn’t matter how hard he tried, or how skilled he became, he wasn’t a REAL soldier like the other guys. Once he was thrown in front of actual men who’d seen combat they saw right through him. Weeble fought to keep the tears from filling his eyes. The realization sank in that it wasn’t up to him, or his brothers. The Army wasn’t any different than gym class in high school. Even the coach, who was supposed to be fair, was reluctant to inflict his weakness on a team. He stood there in the dark doing everything he could to hold himself together, and it was taking everything he had. ******************* KEVIN It rarely bothered him that people thought things came easy for him, that he hardly had to work at them. That wasn’t true, but he didn’t feel any need to correct their assumptions. When it did bother him was when they used it as an excuse to leave most of the work for him, and he didn’t have time to pull someone else’s weight on a group project. As usual, he flirted with the irrational desire to sink the entire boat so that all three of them would fail the Fluid Dynamics project. It would serve those two right. But he knew he couldn’t afford anything below a 100%, not if he wanted to be inducted into the Honors Engineering Society. A star like that from MIT on his resume would open all the right doors. When he’d come back from Tom’s graduation from the Airborne course, he’d discovered his team had slacked off. None of the calculations had been done, and worse none of the experiments had been run to provide the data for the calculations. He’d even written up specific, easy to follow instructions on setting up the experiments, scheduled the lab time, reserved the equipment for his team when everyone knew the lab time and the equipment were extremely hard to come by. The FORTRAN program was written and compiled, error free, waiting for input to produce the graphs and tables, done by himself of course. He’d done everything possible to make it EASY for them to do their share of the project, and they’d blown it off as if it wasn’t 30% of their final grade. He was borderline angry at the incompetence and laziness. And he was trying to figure out what he’d have to NOT do so that he could make up the work. He couldn’t drop track practice for the week or coach wouldn’t run him at this weekend’s meet, and he needed this meet to qualify for Indoor Nationals next month. Even now, walking to the Taekwondo class he’d spent his preciously scant money on made him feel guilty for spending his free time on something non-academic. And that made him resentful because it was an important element in his plan to be the kind of man Tom would want. Tom was tough, and capable, physically imposing and borderline deadly. Kevin knew the Army would change Tom, but he hadn’t quite been prepared for the power, efficiency and granite-like solidity his boyfriend exuded even when he stood completely still. It was seductive and drew him like a moth to a flame, possessing a heady magnetic presence like the gravity of a celestial body. He could describe it no other way when simply being in the same room with Tom he felt a pull to be next to him, and when standing even a few feet away his skin thrummed with what had to be an imagined field effect, as if every cell in his body struggled to fly towards Tom for even the briefest physical contact. The fight not to kiss him this past weekend when they were in the presence of his mother, or in public was abject torture. There was not enough kissing, never enough. He salved the wound with small gestures, brief contact for no more than a three count, knees touching under a dinner table, a pat on the back, a playful grab or wrestle. Columbus, Georgia was another military town, with eyes everywhere and no one could mistake Tom for anything other than a soldier held to a strict code of conduct. Kevin could reason himself into accepting that this was the situation he’d signed up for, loving a military man, and he wouldn’t change that for anything, but it didn’t mean his very soul didn’t scream for release at some ridiculously inopportune moments. Another leash, which he could endure only because it would enable a future he desperately wanted. A future that at times seemed too distant to bear. He repeated the mantra he’d grown used to in the last month: Just a few years, and he needed this degree. A partial scholarship paid for the tuition, books, and a meal plan, his on campus job in the engineering lab paid for his dorm room he was hardly ever in which was a godsend because he could study and complete his vast amount of homework in the lab while he assisted the students who came in to complete assignments. He was lucky to be one of those chosen from all the applicants. On campus jobs were in high demand for those unfortunate enough to have poor families that couldn’t pay for the expensive school. Kevin’s parents didn’t believe in higher education, which they made clear when they tried to force him to go to work for his father’s towing company. He couldn’t imagine a more depressing and limited life, making money from people in unfortunate circumstances. Circumstances they wouldn’t be in if they had the kind of money to avoid being towed. Repossessions, illegal parking, breakdowns on the side of the road, unpaid tickets, seldom the situations wealthy people found themselves in. His parents weren’t bad people, they just had no motivation to do better, to be more. It often occurred to him that frequently the path of someone’s parents either ensured their kids would have a similar life, or in an act of rebellion completely opposite. He always envied Tom and his family. Tom’s parents owned their own house where Kevin’s parents rented, and it seemed so nice. ‘I don’t gotta fix nothing, just call the landlord’ his father said, as if that was of great benefit. ‘It’s too expensive to buy a house, and that’s how they harness you to the plow. Material things..’ his father said the word as if were a curse, ‘…are a trap meant to enslave the masses.’ It was something his father repeated rather than thought of himself, Kevin realized very young. His father wasn’t intellectually astute enough to form a philosophy like that himself. He steered his mind away from the issue of his parents. He didn’t like their complacency, but was unwilling to entertain such unfilial thoughts as blame, not when he grew up fed and clothed with a roof over his head, none of which were of a quality to indicate anything more than necessity. Clothes from thrift stores was what they wore, even his parents. Food that was edible but cheap, preferably a bargain or free. Now older, he realized his parents just didn’t know any better and that was how they were raised, and doubly crippled by the tumultuous social upheaval of the late sixties and early 70’s. The hippie movement might have contributed great things to the culture of America, but it also damaged an entire generation with hopes that there was any real alternative to capitalism. Maybe in some other country, but socio economic SYSTEMS that had been developed and refined over two hundred years just weren’t subject to change by a few thousand entitled adolescents who couldn’t understand that they had the luxury of their arrogant judgment precisely as a result of the hard work and sacrifice of the very parents they scorned. True systems of oppression existed in far too many other nations and it shamed Kevin to hear his parents consider the opportunities provided here as some evil scheme by tyrannical overlords to bind and entrap average people. In fact, it was made worse by his eventual understanding that ethnic groups in this country faced actual oppression every single day, frequently supported by law. If there was one thing he was grateful for that his parents had taught him, it was that if you didn’t buy into structures of class, everyone was equal. It had an unintentional effect on Kevin, who took the lesson to mean there was nothing holding him back except himself and he could rise to any level he desired. And that people of a higher level weren’t exceptional or special, just lucky to have advantages that others didn’t. His parents would be dismayed if they knew that their belief in a crushing system that diluted all individuality was exactly the system their son would use to excel, a system that didn’t care at all who you were or where you came from. It was a system that required the same steps for everyone, and education was the first necessary step. That was the argument they used when he left for MIT, that it would turn him into a robot slave focused on nothing except materialistic selfishness. Which was ironic considering Kevin could almost guarantee his father cheated on his taxes, and rationalized it by fooling himself that it was only to keep the fruits of his labor from the government that didn’t deserve it, rather than the true motive that he wanted more money. After all, his father didn’t give his money away to the poor, or a charity, he spent it. Quite a bit of it on beer and cigarettes. ‘Grrrrrr’ he growled as he trudged through the light snowfall of the early afternoon. Well he was in quite the mood if he’d gone down that rabbit hole of his parents’ failings. It was hard to regret any of it when it resulted in who he turned out to be. He sighed. Life certainly had a sense of humor. He felt better as he walked into the storefront near the MIT campus that served as the Taekwondo gym. He stamped his boots dutifully to shake off the snow before stepping off the absorbent mat just in front of the door. Maybe he’d be lucky and his dorm mate would be gone when he got back to the room. He would need a shower and a change of clothes before heading to the lab for his evening shift. “Kevin, you’re early.” The instructor greeted, serious as usual. Gary was someone Kevin struggled to figure out. The phrase ‘you’re early’ came out as some kind of complaint rather than a pleased observation. Kevin had the feeling Gary tried to hard to project the image of a tough and serious leader but in comparison to Tom and his Army platoon the pretense couldn’t be more obvious. Maybe among martial arts students and competitors that type of personality radiated strength, but Kevin saw it as foolish and unnecessary. It was even more apparent now that he’d seen Tom’s buddies and how relaxed and fun-loving they were when they weren’t on duty. From Tom he’d learned that competence and knowledge didn’t need arrogance for support. The harder you worked to prove you held a certain level only proved your own self-doubt. If you needed others to recognize your accomplishment your achievement wasn’t complete. He also found it strange that Gary didn’t seem to adhere to the true philosophy of a martial arts foundation. For Gary, it seemed to be about competition rather than self-improvement and mental growth. However, Gary pushed, accepted no excuses, and definitely possessed skill, which was what Kevin wanted. He didn’t need to approach this as a hobby because his goal was to keep up with Tom, at least in this aspect. He didn’t need to know how to shoot an enemy, or conduct a mission but knowing the mentality of mutual combat was important. He needed to show Tom that he understood at the very least. And he couldn’t understand without experience. So he didn’t respond to Gary’s accusatory greeting, if it could be called a greeting at all. Responding to useless observations wasn’t Kevin’s thing, especially the sort of observation that held an unspoken opposite: Gary was more irritated by students who were late. Kevin walked over to the row of chairs against the wall of mirrors and began changing out of his winter layers of clothing and into this dobok. He and Gary didn’t have anything to speak about, really, and Kevin found Gary’s personality grated on his nerves. Gary was far more gruff and hard-assed than he had to be, but again, it all came across as an act of intimidation rather than who Gary truly was. Kevin couldn’t help but feel like Gary was some sit-com character on TV, or Mr. Miyagi’s enemy in Karate Kid. The funny thing was, Gary thought his act brought him respect. Kevin just thought he was a fool. ‘Fuck, I’m in a bad mood’ he thought to himself as he sat in his usual spot on the mats to center his mind for the start of his warm up. According to Gary, these were the feelings he had to let go of in order to achieve focus. ************************* Weeble lay on his stomach hidden at the top of a small ridge, looking down on the four men below him. It was Dumbo, Shark, Alaska and one of the men from the compound. One of the things Weeble was trying to find the answer to was who these guys were. It was clear the Bravos were sent here for special training. ‘Well, MORE special trainin’ He thought to himself. But he’d also take the opportunity to learn what this guy was teaching his friends. He had nothing better to do, so why not? Weeble stayed in the clearing where he was abandoned for an hour or so, talking himself down from his near panic. Yeah, he was feeling sorry for himself, arguing with the demon in his head about why it wasn’t fair that they hadn’t picked him. He started thinking of all the reasons why the other Bravos were selected and he wasn’t, trying to come up with the reason why they were qualified and he wasn’t. His current decision to act didn’t occur to him until he’d almost automatically dismissed Assmunch, Sleeper and Zeus from his internal judgment. Of course they were chosen, all three were competent and skilled. And then it hit him: what would Assmunch do if he were in Weeble’s place? He certainly wouldn’t be sitting there feeling sorry for himself. Assmunch wouldn’t accept being useless. Then his thoughts naturally fell to the other Bravos. Zeus and Sleeper wouldn’t care what their hosts thought of them, hell Sleeper would probably find a good place to take a nap. Bootlicker would see it as an opportunity to sneak around and do his own thing, maybe test out a few tricks to throw a wrench in whatever their hosts had planned, just to see what the response was. Puta would just find a group and insert himself without asking, daring them to throw him out. He went down the list of Bravos and none of them would just sit there. They wouldn’t LET someone else exclude them. Cellblock would find a way to get a message to the Bravos about this and come up with his own plan. Demon and Troll would train, maybe test their skills at infiltrating the compound. But all of them would do SOMETHING. In the end, it was Weeble’s curiosity that determined his current situation. He wanted to know what the Bravos were learning. He wanted to know the point of being here. Their voices carried up to him in the cold air, even though they weren’t talking very loud and they were thirty feet away. He considered how cold air in the woods when the trees had no leaves allowed sound to carry further, and filed that fact away knowing if he wanted to stay hidden he had to be quiet. He wondered what the range would be on hearing people talk, or move. “Always have a plan.” The man instructing the three Bravos explained. “Plans start with a goal, then an examination of your current situation, your resources, limitations. Know your team and their capabilities. Know your battlefield, and EVERYTHING is a battlefield. Define your arena, your sphere of action. Thinking with those terms for every situation, no matter how small, trains you to see the path to success. You already do it without thinking for many things, but it doesn’t mean you don’t take these steps. It’s just that for most day to day activities you just do it automatically. Example: Your goal: get food. Situation: You’re hungry, maybe weak and tired. You have three men, so you need enough for all of you. You have environmental options - plants, if you can identify those safe to eat. There’s a compound, you know there has to be food there. You could hunt, plenty of squirrels, deer if you can kill one. Does anyone in your team know how to hunt, skin and field dress a kill? If the answer is no, you’d be wasting energy and time choosing to hunt. Your arena is these woods, which includes the compound. If you were on Post, or an urban environment you could simply walk to the chow hall, or a restaraunt.” “Won’t we be given that information, and training, before a mission?” Alaska asked. The man shrugged. “Sometimes, but you have to be prepared to come up with that yourselves. Sometimes you’ll be the ones giving that briefing. But either way, knowing the questions you need to ask, the information you need to achieve your mission, that falls on your shoulders. Details matter. What time is full dark? How much daylight do you have? When or where is re-supply? If there’s no re-supply what materials and resources can you bring with you? Can you acquire any of that during the mission? Can you call for a drop? You’ll have attack windows and deadlines, so coordinating objectives has to happen. Having the most information allows you to adapt to a chaotic battlefield. And battlefields are always chaotic. You can’t always depend on receiving orders, and a good leader will let you worry about the details of HOW to conduct the mission. Look at it this way: no one tells you how to tie your shoes anymore. You’re trusted to know how to do that by now. As a leader you shouldn’t be telling your men how to tie their shoes unless the mission is shoe-lace dependent and only a specific type of tying will work. There’s always some exception, of course, for special circumstances. You’ll have leaders who think they have to tell you how to tie your shoes, figuratively speaking. They’re usually not good leaders.” Shark snorted. “Met a couple of those.” He said with a smirk. “But we’re low grunts, coming up with our own ideas is kinda the opposite of everything they’ve been screaming at us.” “Yes and no.” The man responded. “There’s going to be a lot of ‘yes and no’ to all this. You’re taught not to question orders, to move when you’re told to move, to sit when you’re told to sit. That’s good training, it’s something you needed to get used to. It eliminates that hesitation that will get you killed. But it doesn’t mean you won’t have other roles you need to shoulder, at other times. You have to be ready to step into leadership at any time. By now you all know what it takes to run a squad, or you should. We saw you guys split up into smaller teams and head off on your own. You chose a leader of your smaller groups who determined your course, how you would achieve the overall mission objective, get to your target, and what you would do on the way. That’s how it usually works. The Army doesn’t want robots who don’t think for themselves, in spite of what your Sergeants may have beaten into your skulls. There’s a point to every method they’ve used to train you. If you’re smart, you’ve figured out when they tell you to dig a hole, they don’t necessarily want or need a hole. What they want, is that you internalize following orders no matter how stupid or useless you might THINK the activity is. Because whatever information you have it’s always less than what your leader has and you might never know the purpose, but there is ALWAYS a purpose. Digging that useless hole has a purpose, even if it’s just to adjust your attitude.” The silence stretched as Weeble’s brothers considered that information. Then Dumbo spoke. “So, why are we here? Training, sure. But for what?” He asked. “Good question, and a perfect example. I don’t know. I wasn’t told. I don’t know why I’m supposed to train you, I was just told to do it, and I don’t even know if our boss knows, that information may be above even his level. What I do know is that I don’t NEED that information to complete my objective. Would it be useful to know that? No, if it was, my commander would have given me that info. That’s how the chain of command works, how it SHOULD work. He trusts whoever hired us to provide the best intel to achieve our objective. I trust him in the same way. I’ve been told to dig a hole, so I’m digging the hole.” Weeble remained motionless on the ridge above as he thought about that and realized it expanded his entire view of the military by several levels. In ordinary circumstances the Bravos would have a mission, because all units, regiments, companies, battalions, commands had missions. Before he joined the Bravos, his overall mission was to keep the birds flying, the Apache Helicopters. In the shop, it was chewing through the constant maintenance checks for air worthiness, flight hour requirements, equipment details, tracking service checklists and a hundred other mechanical details that were necessary daily. But the Bravos were never given an overall mission except Infantry training, which honestly since he’d re-classed to Infantry he’d learned that training was continuous for Infantry across the entire Army, every day, every week, every month. Their host was right. It didn’t matter why. Someone decided training the Bravos this way was necessary and Weeble understood their operational effectiveness had soared in the time since he’d first put a foot down on German soil. He felt a rush of satisfaction that he could never imagine the Weeble back then laying alone in the woods eavesdropping on other soldiers thirty feet away without them being aware of his presence. Maybe Wicomb was right: he was a little bit of a badass now. A grin stole across his face at the thought. HE did this, and it wasn’t all that hard. “So we can you ask you questions, you’ll teach us anything?” Shark asked. The man chuckled. “Yes and no. I’ve got a lot to teach you, and not enough time, so we have to keep it to combat missions, tactics, and the skills necessary to operate. But I won’t tell you… how did your Sergeant put it when he screamed in that pretty boy’s face? ‘Shut your dickhole?’ That shit was hilarious.” Alaska jumped in. “Fuck, you were watching us? Dammit. Sarge was right, we should have set a perimeter. I hate when Sarge is right. So who are you guys? We know you’re military, or at least trained that way.” “Good observation. Yes, we are. Most of us fought in the Gulf War, some of us former JSOC, some RIF’d but most were at the end of their enlistment and chose not to take the re-up offers. Iraq sucked. Re-integration into civilian life is difficult, after all what we know isn’t all that useful on American soil and I have to tell you once you’ve seen combat it makes it even harder to fit in. But there’s a niche for highly trained former military as contractors, and the boss figured out that the U.S. government pays very well for certain skill sets and that there’s no shortage of situations across the world where the presence of U.S. Military is a detriment or disadvantageous. There’s also plenty of tasks that don’t need military involvement that are better suited to a civilian force like protecting or moving assets, retrieving specific items, gathering intel, training foreign locals for various engagements or to provide protection, embassy security, skills trades with NATO allies. We fill the gaps.” “That’s so cool.” Dumbo said. “Yeah, it’s good work, for the most part. My turn. Who are you guys? I know you’re Infantry, but you’re more capable than you should be at your age and rank. I’m not ashamed to admit you caught us underestimating you.” Weeble saw Shark stiffen up. It was almost unnoticeable, and someone who didn’t know Shark probably wouldn’t catch the tension there, but Weeble saw it. What spooked Shark? Weeble slowly moved his head to the right and examined the woods. Nothing there. He repeated the move to his left…nothing there either. The sounds in the woods hadn’t changed. Hmmm. Was it the veteran’s question? Why would Shark get tense about that? It was Alaska that answered. “Just regular infantry. About half of us were offered a re-class from our previous MOS, the rest had already done AIT for Infantry so we figure we all had to get unit training as a Platoon. We spent 6 months in Germany doing that, with Sarge…the guy you saw screaming at Sleeper… pushing us through training.” Weeble could see the veteran’s face change, his eyebrows squeezed slightly, his eyes fixed on Alaska. The man didn’t respond right away. He looked at Dumbo, then stared at Shark. The look he then gave Shark made Weeble’s hair stand on end. The veteran moved his head to face Alaska, but his eyes were still on Shark. “You were ‘offered’ a reclass to Infantry?” He said, almost so low Weeble couldn’t hear it. “Yeah. I mean, not exactly like that, it was more ‘We have a special training program available you’ve been recommended for, do you wanna?’ I didn’t really know it was going to be Infantry.” Alaska said, completely unaware something was off about the question. “And they put you with soldiers who were already Infantry?” The man continued. Alaska shrugged. “Yeah, where else were they going to put us?” “And they spent money to train you in Germany?” Alaska nodded. “You trained with other soldiers there? What base?” “Grafenwoehr. Why?” The veteran moved his face back to Shark. “No reason. What’s your name, Private?” He asked Shark. Weeble saw Shark swallow. “Gallick. They call me Shark.” “Step over here with me for a minute, Shark.” Weeble couldn’t hear them speaking, but the veteran seemed intense as he stood just a few inches from Shark and conversed with low voices. Weeble could see Shark start out nervous and scared as he kept his answers short. Whatever the veteran was asking, Shark didn’t like it. Then gradually Shark’s nervousness turned to defensiveness and determination as the speaking lengthened into drawn out silences, and finally Shark shrugged, shook his head, and pointed to the single chevron with a rocker on his upper arm while leaning forward to say something final with what appeared to be frustration. “So what do you think they’re talking about?” A voice whispered from just over his shoulder and Weeble just about screamed and jumped out of his skin. Only his training kept him from anything more than a minute jerk. The exceptionally cold knife placed against his neck made him freeze into stone. “How long you been there?” Weeble asked in a trembling whisper, attempting to cover to his fear and the pounding of his heart. “Long enough to kill you. Long enough to watch you maintain discipline. Answer my question.” The voice whispered. “I don’t know, but Shark don’t like it. And your buddy don’t like the answers he ain’t getting, neither. There’s a lotta head shakin goin on, lotta eyebrows squeezin together.” Weeble said. “Speculate.” The voice ordered. “Your buddy thinks Shark knows somethin bout why we’re here.” Weeble said, still watching the group below where Shark and the veteran had returned to join Dumbo and Alaska, but also trying to roll his eyes back to catch a glimpse of the man without moving his head. He couldn’t see anything. “And does Shark know that?” He was about to shit himself, his stomach was gurgling and his guts felt like a wild animal was trying to get free. The man asking questions could be anyone, out here in the woods, no one would find Weeble’s body, not for days. He could be killed just for spying on these deadly men and their secret, hidden maneuvers. Weeble gave a tiny shake of his head, one misstep, one lie, and that knife could be yanked backwards before he could blink. He could be buried in leaves in less than a minute. He didn’t have much choice. As long as he was talking, the man wasn’t moving. “He might know, but I don’t think so. I saw the squad leaders talkin yesterday, they didn’t seem too excited, not tore up neither. But who knows?” “You’re visible and exposed.” The voice whispered. “You just shared Intel with an unknown. I won’t be nice next time.” The threat was whispered with a brutal severity Weeble didn’t doubt for a second. Weeble waited for the next question, but it never came, he just felt the knife leave his neck. He slowly twisted his head to look behind him, so slowly just in case. The man was gone. Completely silent and nowhere in sight. Surely he could see him walking away, the visibility in the winter woods was so clear that unless he could hide behind a skinny tree Weeble should be able to see him, hear something rustling through the leaf bed on the forest floor. But there was nothing. Anywhere. He couldn’t believe anyone could sneak up on someone like that, just appear and disappear like a ghost? Weeble felt a tingle surge up his back. That was something Weeble wanted to learn. And he’d made three mistakes. Critical mistakes. Mistakes that came from assumptions. He assumed they’d abandoned him. Maybe they did, and the voice just happened to come across him as he was moving through the woods. He didn’t have to specifically be looking for or watching Weeble. But, there would have been nothing for him to find if Weeble had hidden himself better, found a better position that hid him from the group below AND any others. And then, the surprise and adrenaline made him run his mouth, his fear loosened his tongue. Just a simple threat and he spilled everything. He didn’t know who snuck up on him. Sure, it was probably one of the men from the compound, one of their hosts. And maybe they were friendly, but Intel wasn’t something he should share unless he received something of value in return or the person he shared it with was entitled to it. Fuck. So, not only was he dead, he was a traitor. A dead traitor. Which was really the only kind of traitor anyone should tolerate. And dead men don’t speak, so he should keep his fuckin dickhole shut from now on, like Sarge said. He smirked. Hunter Wicomb sure liked it when he opened his dickhole. Weeble felt his own dick begin to swell, and immediately squashed the thought. This wasn’t the time. At least he kept his pants clean, but just barely. It didn’t happen often, but it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been forced to just let go in his pants. Most of the time on a march or patrol you had time to dart to the side of the road or path if it was urgent, drop your pants and push a turd out, then pull em back up real quick and get back in position. Sometimes it came on you too fast and you couldn’t get em down in time. If you were in fixed position, you didn’t move for anything, and it could be hours. You learned to keep an MRE bag, or box in your pack or one of your pockets that you could whip out if you needed it. Taking a piss wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t easy, but you could let one go without stopping. Again, you didn’t usually have to take a piss in the middle of a patrol, but if you did you just pulled your dick out and aimed it away from the guy in front of you. Your body does something that shuts down those sort of functions while it’s busy exerting itself. And the desire not to shit yourself, or piss yourself is stronger than most people think. Weeble knew of one guy who didn’t shit for two weeks in Basic, he didn’t like people seeing him poop, so he held it because their toilets were in a line and open to the sinks and showers. In Basic, you were NEVER alone, it wasn’t allowed, against regs for a recruit to be by himself at ANY time, even in the latrine, even for a shit. When he finally couldn’t hold it anymore, he clogged one of the toilets in the latrine with a turd almost as big as a man’s forearm. That guy never lived that down, the whole barracks came to look at that brown crocodile floating at the top of the overflowing toilet No one could believe something that size came out of that guy’s asshole, and whatever it was that clogged the rest of the toilet wasn’t much smaller. He said it felt like he was having a baby. They called him Turd Baby the whole rest of Basic. When they had their training module for medical which was more about which injuries you WOULD report to your drill sergeant, and which you wouldn’t, they got a brief talk on why you didn’t hold your shit or piss and what it could do to you if you did. Turd Baby was given a buddy that was in charge of making him take a shit at least once every two days and calling out at morning formation whether Turd Baby had taken a shit yet, for everyone to hear. “PRIVATE HAWKINS, HAS PRIVATE BARROW TAKEN A SHIT TODAY?” The Drill would scream out, while Barrow tried to endure the embarrassment. “Drill Sergeant, Private Hawkins has not taken a shit today, Sergeant!” Barrow would yell at the top of his lungs. “PRIVATE HAWKINS HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE PRIVATE BARROW HAS TAKEN A SHIT?” “Drill Sergeant, it has been forty eight hours since Private Barrow has taken a shit!” “PRIVATE HAWKINS ESCORT PRIVATE BARROW TO THE LATRINE TO TAKE A SHIT.” “YES DRILL SERGEANT!!” He was called the Dookie Herder, The Shitherd, or Poolice, which he hated. If he hadn’t taken a shit for two days, their Drill sent Turd Baby and the Dookie Herder to the latrine while the rest of the class got smoked until they came back successful. One time, someone gave Turd Baby some chocolate laxative without telling him so they wouldn’t get smoked the next morning while they waited for him to shit, and that didn’t turn out too good. Laxatives don’t MAKE you shit, they make it easier to shit. Poor dude couldn’t stop shitting. They got smoked for an hour straight, and Dookie Herder said he counted thirty flushes and twice as many ‘oh god’s’ while he tried not to pay attention to the sounds coming from behind him. Weeble figured that was Turd Baby’s own fault, if he didn’t save all that shit every day, he wouldn’t have so much he needed to get out. Weeble was surprised. He hadn’t thought about Basic Training in forever, it seemed so long ago. It seemed like he saw a completely different Victor back then. He was just a kid, stupid and scared, while everyone around him seemed so grown up and tough as well as far more capable than he was. Older now, he could look back and see how stupid and scared EVERYONE was, and while there were a couple guys who did well as recruits most everyone else wasn’t that much different than Weeble. Turd Baby was so scared of anyone watching him shit that he almost landed himself in the hospital. His head spun for a moment while his two lives overlapped - who he used to be, and who he was now. So different, but so much the same. He still believed everyone else had their shit together, the rest of the Bravos were more capable, and he was the sad, scared, wimpy, small guy. But what if he wasn’t? In five years would he look back on his time with the Bravos and see that they were ALL the same, just like how he saw Basic now? Well, except for Sleeper, Zeus, and Assmunch. Those three weren’t normal. But the rest? Would it look the same to him as he remembered about himself and the others in Basic? No one had their shit together in Basic, they were all idiots, all just learning what it meant to be in the Army, all of them breaking one reg or another more out of ignorance than anything. Just a group of barely adult kids who didn’t know what it meant to be a soldier. All of them were screamed at by the Drills daily, even hourly. In hindsight, he probably fell toward the top of his graduating class because he put his maximum effort in daily just to prove he wasn’t lacking. There were plenty of other recruits that didn’t seem to give a shit how well they did, whether they maintained discipline, and didn’t take it seriously. The truth was, if he’d bothered to see it, the Bravos treated him like he belonged. He wasn’t some pathetic disappointment to them, he was their brother and he pulled his weight. They didn’t see him like he saw himself, and if he was honest it all centered on his size. It was almost as if after a certain point they didn’t even notice he was short and rather physically average. He mentally corrected that thought - since he’d joined the Bravos he’d filled out pretty nicely. He could look at himself in the mirror and appreciate his unfamiliar muscles, his low body fat, he even had a full round butt that Hunter seemed to like a whole lot. He danced away from that line of thought, it wasn’t the time to think about sexy Hunter and those eyes. Or that dick. The guys below were watching the veteran from the compound doing something with a net that appeared to be the size of a small blanket. “This is your foundation.” He held up the net in one hand. In the other, he held a roll of twine. “This is what you tie the material on with. Use your environment, what you see. We have some pine, different types of leaves, but there’s no grass. The goal is to break up your profile mixing dark materials, and light materials. Never create a uniform ghillie made from one material. Your BDU’s stand out in the winter woods, there’s almost no green here, it’s all brown but your BDUs are green. If you were in the Middle East you’d be required to wear desert camo, which is brown. That’s first. Second, you’re shaped in the outline of a person, and the eye will grab that shape before anything else. Third, movement should be minimized the closer you get to an enemy. Slow, and I mean painfully inch by inch. It might take an hour to cross ten yards, and you vary your profile. Never move in a constant head-first direct line. A quick scan by the enemy will catch if that lump of grass suddenly seems ten feet closer. Pay attention to more than just the front view, you should be hidden from every location around you.” Weeble was riveted. Of course they knew about camouflage and ghillie suits, but creating them on the go was never something they were taught. The veteran continued. “On a mission in the wild you should have these two items in your kit. Make your ghillie boring, unremarkable, with no unusual features.” Weeble didn’t have either, so he’d have to get creative. He slowly moved away from the edge of the ridge. ***************** Two hours later, he waited patiently for the group ahead to turn their heads away. They were on their knees with their butts seated on their heels. He wasn’t yet close enough to hear what was being said, but he recognized Troll, Cellblock and Holler with a different man who was gesturing with his hands to the ground where a couple pine cones stood on end, with some fist sized rocks placed strategically around. He saw his opportunity and scuttled behind another tree. He’d looked at the ground ahead and found enough bare spots or rocks to step on to get there silently. The tree he actually wanted to hide behind had too many leaves around the base so he gave up on that one. When he first hunted for materials to disguise himself, he was lucky and found a shrub that had a mess of tiny branches, twigs, and green leaves that were about the size of his fingernail. He didn’t know what type of bush it was, but it broke up the pattern of his BDUs without him having to cover every inch. He used mud to cover his hands, face and neck, stuck some bark from a rotting tree down the neck of his blouse so it stuck up behind his head and on the sides. He had several pine branches with both green and brown needles tucked into his belt upwards and downwards, front and back. He had loose pine needles and oak leaves covering his patrol cap. He found a vine and used it to create a roughly woven ‘hat’ that he stuffed handfuls of leaf litter and pine needles into. That vine was useful, and he draped more of it down his back, tucking several lengths down his boots. He crawled forward slowly in a duck walk, praying no one would glance his direction before he could position himself. He waited for the wind to gust and send the branches overhead rustling and he timed his crawl with those. Once, Cellblock looked around, probably just checking the perimeter, and Weeble folded into a ball the instant he saw Cellblock’s head move. At that point, he was close enough to hear a little of what was being said. He wasn’t sure he should chance getting any closer, but as his eyes darted around he noticed a rock, maybe a boulder no more than shin high not too far away at 9 o’clock. It was a better position, provided more cover, was closer, maybe twenty feet from the group. He just had to find a way to get there. He was just about to make his move when he felt the cold knife against his throat again. “Better. But still pathetic.” The voice whispered. This time, Weeble felt anger well up rather than fear. What the fuck? “Every time you fail, you get cut.” The knife left his throat and a half second later he felt a sting on his ear. The knife was back at his throat before he completed the gasp. “That was just a taste. Next time I won’t be gentle. I will carve you up.” Weeble resisted moving even though the words threw a bucket of cold water on his anger. Was the guy following him? He’d been watching everywhere, trying not to stay in the open, he even left Shark’s group hoping to leave the area where the guy first found him. “What are they talking about?” The whisperman asked. “The compound, I think.” Weeble answered automatically, hoping to avoid another punishment. Another flick came, another sting on his ear. “You don’t learn, stupid. Who am I?” Weeble hesitated. “I don’t know.” He mumbled quietly. Another flick and his other ear stung and then the knife was pressed more firmly into the skin of his throat. “I’m the enemy. Bring me those pine cones. And you better get away clean.” Weeble faced a moment of indecision. If he did what the voiced asked, would he be punished again for cooperating with the enemy? Would he be punished for refusing? He didn’t know the right thing to do. “Three…”. The whisperman said. “Two…” “Fuck you.” Weeble said. “Get ‘em yourself.” The cold steel slid across his neck an inch. He felt blood drop down his skin. Whisperman was a fucking psycho. Weeble rolled away from the blade when he felt the cut, onto his back and kicked out with both feet feeling both boots make contact with something solid. He didn’t wait to see Whisperman recover, he ran. He knew Cellblock’s group probably noticed the commotion and him running away but he didn’t care that he blew his cover. He had to get away. “I’ll find you, little puppy. You can’t hide.” The man’s voice called out into the woods as Weeble ran for his life. “Hey! You can’t be here!” Weeble heard another man’s voice call. “On your knees!” That had to be the guy with Cellblock’s group. Weeble ran, not knowing if that was for him, or Whisperman. He heard gun fire, small caliber, five rounds, a handgun of some kind judging from the crisp ‘pop’ of each trigger pull. The projectiles weren’t in his direction, he didn’t hear anything hit around him, so they must have been for Whisperman. Fuck! Fuck! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. What the fuck was happening? Who was Whisperman? The soldier that was part of the compound group didn’t recognize him and actually shot at him. Weeble hoped he caught a bullet. He was flying through the woods as fast as he could run, and he realized he had to make a plan. Hide out? Definitely, until he could get his bearings. He remembered a small ravine to the east. Weeble scrambled over the uneven ground of the woods, careening around trees and trying to identify anything that would give him cover as he ran. He had to disappear, put as much distance and objects between himself and Whisperman as he could manage. He ran generally east, but in a chaotic path of blocking trees, shrubs, hills, depressions, anything that might hide him from view. When he got to the ravine several minutes later he furiously buried himself in dead leaves against the side of the ravine, hunkered down in a depression that was a foot deep so that the overhang covered him. He hoped the cut in his neck wouldn’t get infected from the mud he’d covered himself with. His breath came in gasping heaves that he knew he had to slow, it was far too loud. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK He knew he’d probably left some kind of trail, but hopefully the dormant winter undergrowth resisted easy identification. He couldn’t stay here long. Remaining in place ensured Whisperman would find him eventually, and it sounded like the psycho had a boner for him for some reason. Maybe he recognized someone else spying and not part of the group from the compound. He had to stay on the move. But where was safety? The compound was the only place he could think of. Even if they didn’t put him with the others, at least they wouldn’t kill him. Psycho Whisperman could have killed him twice, he thought. If he really wanted to, but he didn’t. He was toying with Weeble, he seemed to enjoy making him afraid. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill him, Weeble got a totally creepy feeling from the guy. Whisperman kept using his knife, without hesitation, like he enjoyed it, cutting him four time, drawing blood. He promised worse the next time he saw Weeble. And he kept asking what the groups were talking about. Was he trying to get intel on the compound? On the group running things? It was clear Whisperman wasn’t afraid of the men in the compound, he’d damn near invited the soldier in Cellbock’s group to confront him when he called out to Weeble, to taunt him, exposing himself in direct opposition to what he’d first whispered to Weeble. Someone like Whisperman would have noticed the sidearm the man carried. He must not be concerned he’d be caught. Weeble didn’t doubt that at all, Whisperman was silent and sneaky. Fuck. Weeble felt a shiver go up his spine. An idea occurred to him. Would Whisperman teach him? The compound guys weren’t doing it, they’d left him as if he wasn’t worth their effort. All the Bravos were chosen specifically. Maybe Whisperman would show him how to get intel, if that’s what he was after. He had the advantage of being invited here as a Bravo. The compound guys wouldn’t suspect him as a spy. And maybe the psycho would teach him how to sneak around and stay hidden. He’d love to learn how to do that. Weeble trembled. It was a risk. It could go wrong. Whisperman was a psycho, probably couldn’t be trusted. But, what options did he have? He couldn’t hide out here, as well as survive. He’d need to eat, and Whisperman could catch him any time he was out in the open. He didn’t fool himself that he had the skills necessary to evade someone like Whisperman. He could avoid the other groups easily, but escape someone who was deliberately hunting him? Weeble couldn’t imagine a single scenario where he could reach the compound without Whisperman finding him. If he was Whisperman, he’d already figure out that’s where Weeble would head. ‘Fuck him’ Weeble thought. ‘Fuck that asshole!’ He repeated as he tried to calm his breathing. He was trapped. He couldn’t make it to the compound unless he was VERY good, and he had no illusions about pitting his skills against Whisperman’s. Pre-Bravo Victor would have curled up and cried. But he was Weeble now. He was a fucking Bravo. Even pre-attack Weeble… what was that guy’s name? Delfin? No, Delnick… fucking rapist. Dead Delnick, HAH Delnick Dead Dick… whatever… even that Weeble would have given up and laid down to die. This Weeble? THIS fuckin’ Weeble wasn’t gonna let this fuckin psycho determine how this played out. Screw him. And screw his momma too. Just because she was the bitch that made him. Weeble began to form his plan

Yes, Walters and Horvath were in a meeting with Major Apone just after the Bravos finished their training in Germany, and Apone told them then because the Bravos and Charlies had completed Phase One of the program successfully without any trouble to report. But because they were going to be sent to Benning to be alternate resources for the Bravos and Charlies they were told what to specifically look for - breakdown in morale, assaults, etc. Major Collins knows that if there is going to be a crack, anything to discover, or trouble…it would happen at the start when the troops are freshly thrown together, or during the hardest training of their entire career at Ranger School. Pressure, exhaustion, pain and difficulty will fray even the tightest unit and expose weaknesses. From the end of Chapter 17: “Sir, what’s the purpose here?” Sergeant Walters asked. “What are we supposed to be looking for?” Major Apone sighed. “A breakdown in command, morale, unit cohesion, any problems caused by homosexual troops. Squads and Platoons are tight knit units and the test study wanted to limit potential damage during phase one. This comes straight from the top, from the Pentagon. All this talk of homosexuals serving in the military makes us all nervous. There’s similar test cases being run for women in combat roles. The Gulf War showed it’s impossible to keep women away from combat danger even if they don’t participate in combat roles. Off the record, we’re having more problems integrating women than we seem to be having with homosexuals. And that’s purely for two reasons: One - the men don’t think the women can do the heavy lifting and pull their weight like a man, and Two - fraternization among the troops.” The cool thing about Assmunch is his intense focus and he NEVER takes his eye off the ball. He knows there’s an answer in the clues, he just has to think his way through it. His gift has always been how he can look at things from a different perspective, discard his bias, understand what factors are important to someone else. He may not be super smart with facts or knowledge, but he’s incredibly intuitive and clever in figuring out puzzles or finding solutions given limited inputs.

Thank you! The Bravos really should be more careful, Sarge could have overheard the squad leader meeting, and then they’d be screwed. Yeah, Sarge knows… but he’d have to report that the Bravos know. That would not be good at all.

Thanks Drew… some chapters are a little more complex and take me longer, but I will keep it going! It’s great to hear compliments!

Hidden in a tree some distance from the platoon was a man dressed in wilderness camouflage, and he was studying the Bravos while remaining immovable inside the evergreen branches of the large pine. No leaves of the deciduous trees blocked his view. The leaves had long since fallen to the ground. “Him. I want HIM.” The man holding binoculars called down in low tones. It was clear who he meant, the guy who seemed to be in charge of the platoon, the one everyone paid attention to. “Copy.” The man standing by the trunk answered before running off. The man in the tree was still questioning his decision to do this favor for Collins. But technically it was one of the tasks they advertised to customers so he didn’t have an automatic ‘no’ ready when the Marine called him. Usually when they trained troops or squads for specific ops it wasn’t at their compound on the Georgia-Alabama border it was on some foreign soil elsewhere in the world. U.S. troops, foreign troops, operators of all sorts. Collins paid well, the U.S. govt usually did, which tipped the balance in favor of a ‘yes’ in this unusual case. Cherries. Every single one. They looked like children. Patrol discipline wasn’t terrible, except for the noise they were making. “Guess they didn’t get the message.” He said to himself. Collins had left it up to him how he would run this, and he decided against briefing the babies before testing them. Run of the mill grunts were instructed and ordered - ‘don’t color outside the lines’, ‘shoot that’, ‘sit there’, ‘don’t eat the crayons.’ These grunts weren’t run of the mill. Figuring out the sitch was part of operating without intel, adapting a mission, creating a mission, defining the battlefield, all important factors that would tell him what these kindergarteners lacked. He mentally shrugged. “Collins did say to push them. Over the cliff is still pushing.” ************************ Assmunch came to decision. How this day had proceeded left too many unanswered questions for him to feel comfortable operating as if this were a normal patrol. He considered this to be enemy territory. An entire platoon was too big to accomplish any objective without intel, and they created a big fat target for attack or ambush. A big, noisy, easily herded target. After listening to the opinions of his men, he turned to Cellblock. “We’ll do a 5k Shotgun.” Cellblock nodded before turning to give orders to the teams. “Three man standard.” Cellblock announced. The Bravos immediately broke into their teams. “5k due Northeast. HEE-HAW” No one waited, they had their orders and a plan. Hide. Evade. Escape. Harass. Attack. Weaken. Something Cellblock had come up with in Germany to handle situations when you didn’t know where your enemy was and were marching blind. You picked a direction (northeast), selected a distance to reconverge (5k), broke off into smaller teams (3 man), head off into different directions along a 180 degree arc (shotgun). Assmunch took a few deep breaths and settled into the zone while the rest of of the Bravos disappeared into the woods. All the elements came together in his head, clues he’d noticed as they patrolled without attempting to figure out how they connected. The topography of the terrain they’d traversed. The time of day, the drop off point, the delays, having no briefing or mission, no objective, the few things he knew about their hosts and Major Collins, their training up to this point, Germany, being allowed to break the rules in small ways, unusual skills not normally provided to Infantry privates. Evaluation of existing proficiency coupled with identification of deficiencies was always step number one. That would be his first step…well after selecting participants, but he had no way of knowing or determining which selection criteria were used. Create a baseline. Develop a plan, a program. Challenge, instruct, test, train. Eliminate external factors and isolate. Increase the intensity of training, build on previous lessons. It all floated around in his brain until an arrow of lightning pierced his thoughts. “Chunk, head out and join up with Alaska’s group. That way.” He pointed. He and Chunk were the odd two man team left after the Bravos split up into their 3 man shotgun. “Leave your gear, it’ll just slow you down. We’ll take it with us.” “We…..?” Chunk said in confusion, while unlatching his kidney strap and chest strap and letting his ruck drop to the ground. In two seconds he was gone. They were beyond argument, discussion. The Bravos trusted that he had his reasons, had a plan and a goal in mind. Assmunch used the time to go deeper, leaving just the smallest part of himself to monitor Automatic brain. He had nothing more to figure out. If their hosts hadn’t already decided to deprive the Bravos of their leader, they would soon, especially after seeing the Platoon disperse. There was no point to making it hard for them to take him, it would only wear him out. These were guys who didn’t lose, especially against a 20 year old Private. There wasn’t a lot of math to do to arrive at the answer that Assmunch would be loser in any scenario. At least this way, he could get a mind-nap even if he left a sliver of his awareness on alert. He made himself comfortable in a ruck flop on the ground and waited. It wouldn’t be long. Thoughts of his recent weekend with Kevin and his family kept him warm. ************************* “Clever.” The man in the tree muttered as he saw the Bravos split up and scatter. Only two of the teams would be exposed to the traps his men were currently setting up on the path to the compound. The others would circumvent them. He no longer had confidence the traps would be successful. There was no way the Platoon could know the exact location of the compound but with this tactic it wouldn’t be difficult to triangulate. However, they couldn’t communicate with each other. The smooth and fluid way the troops went into action spoke of a precision execution of a previously developed drill. At some point they would have to converge again if they planned to act as a unit. Did they know he didn’t have enough men to chase after ten teams? At least eight of the teams would locate the compound. Once found, they’d wait and gather intel. The rats would find the cheese. He welcomed knowledge that the infants had made his job slightly easier. He wouldn’t have to herd them. He was also pleased that Collins had sent them kids with at least a little experience. He hit the radio button on the handset hooked to his vest. “Let them go. Base, prepare for perimeter incursion, line of sight…”. He did a quick calculation in his head…” contact in two ticks…1400.” He saw the target squat down and assume a relaxed seated pose. “Discontinue target hunt and capture. He’s waiting for you. Target will cooperate.” The man thought for a couple seconds. “You’ll only need one man, Cage. Send the rest to shadow the infants. You have free rein to play. Do not incapacitate or injure.” His men would watch and determine how able and skilled these little babies were. After they were rounded up he’d get reports on who the thinkers were, who gave orders, who led and who followed. From that he could develop a program to focus on their deficiencies. ******************* Zeus scrambled up the twelve foot rock face then planted himself on his stomach to reach down to grab Weeble’s outstretched hand to pull him up from Sleeper’s lift. Weeble climbed over Zeus, using the big man’s ruck for handholds. Once his hands were free, Zeus grabbed Sleeper’s free hand to do the same for him, waiting until Sleeper gained his feet before rising to stand. “We have a shadow.” Zeus said, turning his head for his gaze to drift over the shadow’s position without stopping. Sleeper nodded. “I saw one, you think there’s more?” Zeus shook his head. “Negative.” “Sneaky snake.” Weeble commented. “He’s gonna be hard to shake. He’s gonna be a problem.” “Yeah. Do we deal with him now, or wait?” Sleeper asked. “Now.” Zeus replied in a dangerous tone. “We don’t know if we’ll have the opportunity to escape his observation further on. He’ll lose momentary track of us once we get away from this ridge. Best opening we’ll have. He maintains distance, but that doesn’t mean he won’t engage at some point.” Sleeper nodded in agreement. “Weeble…” “I know what to do, Sleeper.” Weeble interrupted. “Give Zeus your ruck.” Sleeper said as he started forward and away from the edge. When they were sure they were out of sight, Weeble slid out of his straps while still moving and darted off into the scrub. Sleeper grinned watching Weeble skitter off to the cover of a dense thicket twenty yards off to the right. No one moved like Weeble, fast and low, his legs pumping furiously. “Let’s move.” Sleeper said, setting off at a quick jog almost at the same moment Weeble skittered away. The diversion relied on disguising that one of their team had peeled off. Their shadow had to think he was still following all three. And no matter how good their shadow was, Weeble was one of the fastest they had in a scramble, not to mention wriggly and writhing, all wild rabid and feral. He was worse than Shark. Shark hit and ran, he didn’t wait around. Weeble would only run if it served a purpose. And if Weeble got caught it worked to their advantage too, as it would slow their shadow down. He’d have to make a choice, and there really wasn’t a choice. Their shadow couldn’t allow Weeble to continue to randomly distract him from following his other two targets. He’d lose track of them. Even captured, Weeble would be an anchor around the shadow’s neck. Had it been an actual enemy who meant to do them harm, they would have used a different approach, splitting up to harass the shadow individually in rapid engagements intended to tire and confuse. Sure, it would slow their progress toward their objective, but eliminating an enemy behind you took priority. Too much havoc could be wrought by even a single man. Sleeper shook his head. Whoever was calling the shots were seriously underestimating the skills of their targets, and it would be foolish for Sleeper to avoid taking advantage of that mistake. They sent one man? Sleeper wouldn’t make the same mistake though, he fully expected their shadow to be very, very good at bushcraft. It was arrogant for him to allow himself to be spotted, but was that deliberate or were their hosts completely unprepared for the Shotgun? Those were questions Sleeper couldn’t answer. But just like a fighter jet released countermeasures to deal with a fired missile during a dogfight in the air, the Shotgun was meant to create too many targets for a single attack to succeed. And the 3 man Shotgun could be further dispersed to create three more targets if necessary. He had no doubts that the other squads had their own shadows and were dealing with them in similar ways. Either way the dice fell, Sleeper didn’t have to worry about their shadow anymore. ********************* “Fuck him up, Demon.” Cellblock said. If their shadow was smart, he’d bolt. There was plenty of room for him to escape between the points of the triangle they’d surrounded him with. Even if he was really good, he’d have a hard time prevailing over three attackers if he waited for them to engage. The group of them stood spread six paces apart in an area where the trees were spaced further apart. “Wait.” Their captive said. “We’re only evaluating you.” He said in a calm and reasonable voice. “If you attack, there’s going to be injuries. A lot of injuries.” Something in his tone made it a certainty rather than a possibility. He didn’t seem bothered, or nervous at all. In fact, he stood relaxed with his arms crossed. “You could surrender.” Troll offered. Their shadow turned his head to study Troll. “You want a captive?” Troll shrugged. “Not really, you’ll slow us down. Or we could leave you tied to this tree here.” The man laughed. Cellblock realized he liked this guy. He looked to be in his late 20’s or early thirties, bundled for the cold so it was hard to see his body shape, but he stood about 5’11”. He had an easy friendliness to him, with brown eyes that never lost a look of amusement. “That would suck, but you know I’d get loose. You would have to take me with you. I could give you intel.” It was Cellblock’s turn to laugh. “Are you going to give us intel?” “If you ask nice, sure. Why wouldn’t I?” The man replied. “We weren’t told not to.” Cellblock sighed. “You could lie. You probably already are.” Another laugh. “Well isn’t that how it goes? You have to figure out what’s a lie, and what isn’t?” He waited a few seconds for Cellblock to make a decision. “What do you think Demon?” He asked, looking at the only member of the squad that hadn’t spoken. Demon grinned. “I like to fight. I know I won’t win against you, not by myself. But I could make it difficult on you to continue following us.” The shadow raised his hands as his eyebrows lifted up onto his forehead. “What am I going to do? All I have to do is slow you down, which is going to happen either way we do this. I’d rather do it the friendly way. After all, I don’t REALLY want you to cry every time you have to pee for the next four days. I’m going to hammer my boot between your legs and put a size 11 footprint in your taint. You’ll probably puke, and we won’t be going anywhere for at least an hour. It’s 50-50 whether you’ll have little Demon’s running around when some poor stripper finally agrees to marry you.” Demon scowled. “I don’t like threats.” The happy shadow smiled. “You’re in the wrong line of work for that, buddy.” Cellblock sighed. “We have to secure your hands.” The shadow nodded and crossed his wrists behind his back. “Demon, secure your ruck on the captive.” Cellblock ordered. He was pleased at the momentary scowl that flashed over the shadow’s face. But it disappeared fast and was replaced with the man’s normal bemused visage. “Troll, your ruck goes on the front.” Now the scowl remained. “Demon, secure his wrists when he’s latched in.” “You know I can’t march far with this weight.” The shadow said. “I can’t see the ground, I’m going to trip and fall a lot. That’s going to slow you down.” Cellblock grimaced. “Ouch. And with your hands tied you won’t be able to catch your fall. We really should have thought this through better. Move out.” “Look at it this way, your feet are free, you can still put that boot in my taint. I kinda got a boner for it now.” Demon licked his lips and smiled with a wink as he grabbed the right shoulder strap on the Shadow while Troll grabbed the left. “We’ll try not to let you fall.” The set off to continue in the direction they’d been originally traveling. “The compound is that way.” The shadow said, indicating with his chin a direction off to their left. “We know.” Cellblock said without pausing or changing direction. “Good luck throwing Troll off.” Cellblock said a silent word of thanks that the Sergeants Bravo had trained them full of hard lessons in Germany with few breaks. He couldn’t imagine how they would have handled this situation back when they were green. ********************* They’d been in woodlands exactly like these before, prior to Germany. A lot of scrub growth, crowded thickets and difficult paths to navigate forced them to stick to one or two easier to travel routes. “When do you think it’ll happen?” Dumbo asked. “Pretty soon.” Bootlicker answered. “Eyes sharp. “You take under, Dumbo. Wanker, you take over.” “He’s still back there.” Wanker observed. “You sure, Wanker? I’d have come up alongside by now, maybe even ahead.” Bootlicker murmured, keeping his voice low. “Yeah. Twenty yards back. He’d have to circle too far to track us alongside and we haven’t given him time. The squirrels behind us haven’t started running on the floor again, still darting through the trees overhead.” “Good.” Bootlicker replied. Now…would it be a diversion, a trap, or a delay? These guys had home turf advantage. If it was him, Bootlicker would have set up something that combined all three with enough time. The cry of a red-tailed hawk sounded close by, a lonely and mournful screech in the cold quiet of the woods. Bootlicker took in the surroundings. A slight rise, maybe three or four feet to their left beyond which appeared dense growth. Too bad it wasn’t summer, there’d be juicy blackberries on those. His stomach growled with disappointment in the season. He’d brave the almost guaranteed yellow jacket swarm for a handful of blackberries at this point. A clearing beckoned at 1 clock through gradually spreading tree trunks. Both directions were desirable for strategic purposes. Their pursuer would avoid the clearing, not wanting to walk in the open. And he’d know his targets would want to avoid a clearing for similar reasons. When you’re on patrol in the woods clearings were prime ambush locations. The enemy could hide and attack from cover while your squad was pinned in the open. A smart patrol would avoid the clearing. The trap would be at the top of the rise to the left. “Bootlicker…” “I know, Dumbo.” Bootlicker answered. He was thinking, but he couldn’t take too long. Their pursuer would use the time to circle around. He suddenly realized THIS was the diversion, they were expected to take some time to evaluate their choices. There would be a trap either way they chose, but because the clearing was the least desirable option the trap there would be less troublesome because almost no one would choose that option in this situation. His squad had taken the route directly pointing to the ultimately expected compound to the northeast. If it was a prepared trap, which was likely on a route their hosts selected for them, it would be something intended for an entire Platoon rather than a smaller three man squad. Assmunch had changed the game and their enemy didn’t have time to revise their carefully laid obstacle course. It was too early for sacrifice. “Are you clocking, Wanker?” He asked. “Shadow on the move, east.” Bootlicker nodded. As expected. He had to wait. Their pursuer would take position in the woods across the clearing once he circled around. So foolishly confident for a lone tracker. Is that what their hosts thought of them? Did they really think they were bumbling idiots? “Let me know when he’s likely to lose eyes on us.” Bootlicker said. “We move along heading one hundred fifty degrees on Wanker’s go. Max speed.” “Copy” Dumbo and Wanker echoed. Thirty seconds passed in silence. “Now.” Wanker breathed, and the three of them darted immediately to the southwest, the small rise with the blackberry bushes above covering their quick retreat. “We have thirty seconds max to find cover to hide our route. There!” Wanker pointed to a large fallen tree beyond which was yet another wide expanse of shrubs and low growth. Running full out was difficult on even ground when you were rucked and loaded, and in the woods it was downright dangerous, but they didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t a sprint, and you didn’t pump your legs you barely lifted your feet. “If he’s smart, he’ll just meet us up ahead rather than try to follow us, but it’ll take him a bit while he waits for us to to appear. He should figure it out pretty quick.” ******************* “I’m just about fed up with these little fucking bastards.” Beggar said to the tree he was leaning against in a squat. He’d waited in position, taking the opportunity to swallow a nutri-bar in two bites. “Babysitting job my ass.” He stood up gingerly. He had what he came for. He’d take his time heading back to base, maybe they’d all arrive at the same time. He wondered how the others were doing and if they were having as much trouble as he was. One thing was clear, these bastards weren’t the babies they’d been told to expect. That actually pleased him. He’d recommend that the dial get turned up to 11. With a smile he walked casually through the woods dreaming of punishing these three pukes in particular in the week to come. If anyone were watching, they would notice he walked with a slight limp favoring his left foot. The one with the big ears would be his special project. “Payback’s a bitch, motherfucker.” He muttered as he stopped and sat down on the ground to remove his boot. He was going to have to wrap his ankle. It hadn’t stopped throbbing with the usual walking it off. He chuckled. The spring loaded sapling was a lucky hit. He still couldn’t figure out how he tripped it. And he hadn’t had time to investigate how they’d done it in the first place. Fucking. Little. Green. Grunt. Bastard. Mother. Fuckers. ****************** “We can’t have lost him.” Dumbo said. “He’s up ahead somewhere then.” Bootlicker said. “Probably snacking on a box of crayons waiting for us.” Wanker said, making them all chuckle. “You think he’s a Marine?” Dumbo asked. Wanker shrugged. “Who knows? He rolled down that hill like a big dumb bag of rocks though. That had Marine written all over it. I didn’t expect that little tree to whip that hard. But then,” Wanker chuckled, “neither did he.” “It was a thing of beauty.” Bootlicker said, smiling. “But don’t get cocky. Stay focused. He underestimated us, let his guard down. It won’t happen again. If anything, I expect payback.” “There’s not much further to go, if Holler was right. I don’t think he’ll have time to hit us.” Dumbo said. “You could be right, but let’s expect it anyway.” Bootlicker replied. Wanker groaned. “I wish I had a box of crayons to eat. I’m starving.” Bootlicker patted him on the back. “Don’t worry. Holler knows his shit, we’ll be eating soon I bet.” ****************** “Is that all of them?” Gregory asked, his eyes watching the Private sitting in a chair in the middle of the compound’s courtyard. Gregory was in the tower four stories up with two of his commanders, looking down. “All but three, sir. The squad with the big guy and the little guy are in the wind.” Jackson replied. “Wasn’t that Nancy’s squad?” He asked. “Yes, sir. Can’t reach Nancy on the radio.” Gregory squinted and furrowed his brow. Just who had Collins sent here? These were kids. Nancy was no-contact. Beggar came back injured. Ghost allowed himself to be captured and used as a pack mule. But thank God for that because he might just be one of the only ones to actually get anything in depth in terms of the skill level of these kids. Ghost was friendly, non threatening, engaging and talkative. He was one of the few really likable guys he had. If anyone could get an inside track on these kids, he would. One thing was clear: this Platoon was disciplined and trained for ordinary missions. They operated far above what he’d normally expect from Privates. The 3 man squads were currently hidden in a 180 degree arc around the compound’s perimeter. Like they knew where the compound was from the very start. Like they’d had a plan. And intel, except Gregory knew that wasn’t the program…unless Collins had lied to him, which was unlikely. “Sir, we’ve got a vehicle coming.” “Well this day just keeps getting better. I should charge Collins double.” Gregory said to no one in particular. “Doesn’t look like they’re in the mood to stage a rescue op of their man. Let’s bring them in. The last three will show up eventually. I have a feeling they’re not far away, and watching everything. Take a plate of food to our captive Private. Let’s see if that coaxes them in. If not, round them up. Day’s getting late.” “My pleasure, Sir.” Jackson said before darting down the steps of the tower. “Let’s go see who our guests are, Vince.” Gregory said to the other man as he walked to the steps himself. ******************* “They’re going to see the fire and the smoke.” Weeble said. Sleeper shrugged. “We’re not hard to find.” Sleeper said, watching Zeus field dress the buck they’d killed. They got lucky, finding this buck struggling with his antlers caught in the fork of a tree. “Besides, you want to eat, right?” Weeble’s stomach growled, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’ll take that as a yes. But first, go do recall. There’s enough here for everyone.” Sleeper continued. Weeble darted off in the direction of the compound to signal the first squad back to their location. One man from that squad would go to the next squad’s position and relay, and so on. Sleeper looked over at their captive. “What channel have they switched to?” He asked for the twentieth time. The man shrugged. “Come on, Nancy. This doesn’t have to be difficult. I just want to make sure my guys get a meal in them, then we’ll all walk into your base like good little soldiers. We’re here, we have no where else to go. We’ll even let you go to report.” Sleeper coaxed the captive who was tied hand and foot. They’d taken no chances and hog tied him. “We know the drill, the enemy has comms, radio silence and a new channel for anything critical. There’s nothing critical now, there is no radio chatter for us to find. We’re all here, right where you wanted us to be. We can’t get intel. But we can radio in and begin negotiations. You guys have the upper hand and we both know your side is only waiting to see what we’ll do. Nice trick putting Assmunch front and center there. But we don’t need to rescue him. None of us are going anywhere except where you want us to be. Game’s up.” Nancy blinked slowly, as if bored. Sleeper sighed. “Look, you get to tell the story however you want to, we won’t say a word. You just got unlucky when we set Weeble on you. You’re the one who made the bad call to let him lead you into Zeus. We all know you didn’t expect us to have the training. You should be mad at your commander for not briefing you properly. You’d have done alright if you’d met up with one of the other squads. And we sincerely appreciate you not going for blood, we know in a real fight we stood no chance.” The lump on Nancy’s cheek was going to turn into an angry bruise. “Zeus got lucky hitting you with Weeble’s ruck like that. For a big guy, he’s got fast reflexes. Sorry about having to drag you, but you were out and we couldn’t carry you and our gear. Come on. We aren’t the enemy.” He watched Nancy’s eyes gaze off, as if lost in thought. Playing the scenarios in his head most likely. Sleeper gave him time. “Get the fire going, Addison. I’ll slice it thin so it cooks faster. We should be able to eat most of it. The rest we’ll bring with us.” Zeus said. Sleeper set to the shavings with his sparker, blowing on the mound when it caught then added dry tinder to the small flames as well as bark and twigs. In less than a minute the flames were big enough to add the smaller branches and wood. Unlike their camp out in the state park, there was no flat slate stone in the area they could use for a cooking surface. “He’s useless Zeus. We should just let him run back home.” Sleeper said. Zeus shrugged. Soon, Weeble came back with Puta and Dimples and they all grabbed chunks of meat from Zeus to hang over the fire. Sleeper took turns feeding Zeus bites as he continued butchering the carcass of the buck. Gradually the other Bravos filtered in and took their place around the fire. Sleeper watched Weeble take a strip of cooked meat over to Nancy who turned his head away when Weeble offered him a bite. Sleeper shook his head. He watched his brothers devour the meat like rabid wolves. “Eat fast. They should be sending out a team to round us up by now. Either that, or they’re going to attack. Let’s not get caught with our pants down. And don’t overload.” Sleeper called out. He really didn’t have to tell them to hurry. Half of them barely chewed the meat before gulping it down. Cellblock spoke up just as he finished his meal. “Let’s just walk in the front door. We’re all bushed, let’s find out what all this is about.” Nancy let out a sarcastic laugh. “You’re tired? After a half day’s walk in the woods?” He grinned. “I can’t wait. This is going to truly suck for you soft little babies.” “Says the man who didn’t carry 45 pounds on his back all day.” Shark pointed out. “45? You don’t even have plates, full mags, a full camelback. You’re babies. Don’t worry. Well show you what tired is.” Nancy retorted. Sleeper traded a look with Cellblock. The first clue. Sleeper gave the handsignal for squad leaders to meet before stepping away. Zeus stood up and held out his field knife with bloody hands to Alaska to finish with the carcass. After the squad leaders were gathered, Cellblock spoke first. “Our guy was pretty talkative. I like him, he’s friendly.” “Did he say what we’re doing here?” Shark asked. “Training. He didn’t say what kind, but he did say it was supposed to toughen us up.” Cellblock answered. “He said today was all about evaluation.” “Which means we fucked up.” Shark said. “We played this wrong by showing our skill level.” MiniHulk nodded. “We’re going to get hit hard.” He took a deep breath and threw his ugly head back. For a guy with almost no neck he seemed to have no trouble moving his blocky caveman head around. Sleeper heard leaves crunching behind him, and he turned to see Bootlicker walking up to the group. “I hope you worked your magic and found us some info, Bootlicker.” Bootlicker grinned. “Oh, I’ve got info. I meant to tell Assmunch but we never got time. I looked through our file in Ulrich’s office.” No one was surprised Bootlicker found his way into the Training Regiment Commander’s office. “We have a file?” Cellblock said with suspicion. “Yes. You’re not going to like it though.” Bootlicker replied. “Fuck. I wish Assmunch was here.” Sleeper said. “What’s the file?” He said with surrender in his voice. “We’re part of a Pentagon test program.” Bootlicker said. “What kind of program?” Cellblock asked. “Homo’s in the military.” Bootlicker said with a matter of fact tone. Cellblock looked at Shark, MiniHulk, Zeus and Sleeper. “But we’re not homos.” He said it casually, as if it was just another basic fact, unbothered by the implication or the association. “Charlies are in the program too. I didn’t see anything on the Alphas or Deltas, but it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out they’re in the program, we were all together in Germany. I guess since it was just Bravos and Charlies in the Airborne Course they only gave Ulrich information on us.” Bootlicker continued, ignoring Cellblock. “Major Collins is running the program.” “Fuck me.” Sleeper breathed out. “You’re in the right Platoon for that, apparently.” Shark said with a chuckle. “Did the file say how many of us are gay?” “No. But we know Puta is. Maybe Wanker, and Troll sure likes getting Wanker to suck his dick. It doesn’t matter.” Bootlicker answered. Cellblock nodded. “Yeah, that’s not the real problem. What if we get known as the Homo Platoon? Who knows about this, Bootlicker?” “Program is Classified, but not Top Secret. So not many, and it’s definitely not general knowledge.” Bootlicker explained. “Probably just command.” Cellblock hissed. “Bootlicker… you looked at Classified documents? And now you’re telling us? We’ll all hang for this.” He said in a whisper. “Then you better not tell anyone.” Bootlicker said with a grin. “And why are you whispering?” “Because I don’t want to go to jail, fuckwad. And we have to tell Assmunch!” Cellblock argued in a heated whisper. “No one’s going to jail, Cellblock. Relax. Man, you’re way too uptight.” Bootlicker replied. “Yeah, Assmunch will know what to do.” Shark said. “I don’t like that we could get a reputation. Some of us are set on re-upping. I have to do eight to get the G.I. Bill stuff they promised.” “Me too.” Cellblock said. “What do you think about this, Sleeper?” MiniHulk asked. “I…”. Sleeper paused. In truth, he didn’t know how he felt. He didn’t care about the program. Or rather, he didn’t care that it was a study of Homosexuals in the Military. He actually liked the training and getting to hang out and work with the Bravos. But he knew he didn’t have a future in the military so any reputation or career roadblock wasn’t a threat for him like it was for the Bravos. Their nervousness was understandable. What would Assmunch do? “This is what we signed up for.” He began. “We all volunteered for this.” Cellblock interrupted. “I wouldn’t have if they told me what it was for.” Sleeper held up a hand. “Doesn’t matter Quincy. It’s a done deal, you can’t back out. Actually, I don’t know about that, we probably could back out, if we were willing to let Collins know that we know about the study program. But that would mean we had info we shouldn’t have. The Major seems like a good guy, but he’s career military and someone will get punished for this. If it’s us, we’ll probably just be booted. So I don’t see that as an option. We’re stuck for now, right?” “I guess.” Cellblock answered. Shark nodded while MiniHulk just shrugged. Sleeper continued. “Second, we’re getting training NONE of us would be getting if we weren’t in the program. And C, I don’t know about you guys, but I love the Bravos. I love being here, I love going through this with all of you. I don’t want to be anywhere else. Number four - they probably offered this to plenty other troops, we’re the ones who said yes, and while some of us were selected because of being gay, we don’t know who that is, or if we have any others besides Puta. Which means no one else will know either, especially because it’s Classified. Once they’re done with the program and get what they need, our file will go into a drawer in an unlabeled filing cabinet in the basement of the Pentagon and no one will look at anything but the report conclusions ever again.” Bootlicker nodded. “I don’t think our selection was random. Usually studies have control groups and test groups, and I don’t think we’re a control group. Maybe the Alphas and Deltas are the control, maybe regular Army is the control, who knows? The file didn’t lay out how the study was created, just the purpose. It’s probably just a basic briefing for Ulrich and the inclusive file is in Collins’ hands. And we aren’t mentioned specifically by name so Ulrich doesn’t even know which of us is gay, just that some of us COULD be. Ulrich did have a bunch of information on our comings and goings, performance at Airborne, how we interact with each other, fights, arguments, how Assmunch usually resolves everything or tasks us. The cadre loved us, by the way. Called us ‘dedicated soldiers’. The best part? We’re slotted for Ranger School.” Sleeper held his hands up as if to say ‘See? I’m right.’ “Are you going to tell Wanker, Bootlicker?” Shark asked. “Did the file say how he’s been sucking dick and taking it up the ass?” “Nah.” Bootlicker said. “I told him it doesn’t matter if everyone’s cool with it, he can’t be open about it. So he’s been careful, which is what I’m training him for. Our activities are secret ops, and that includes his extra-curricular activities. He doesn’t need to know about the program. No one but us and Assmunch needs to know. We don’t need anyone fucking up and letting it slip. We need to play this smart, ride it out and see where it takes us. If THEY know that WE know they’ll either drop us back into the regular ranks of infantry, or send us all back where we came from.” Cellblock reluctantly nodded. Shark seemed to be giving it some thought. “We don’t really have a lot of choices here.” Sleeper said. “Do you think Weeble’s gay?” Shark asked. “Why? You want some of that?” MiniHulk said with a smile. Shark laughed. “Not into dudes, you ugly fuck. No, just wondering about that guy that came for our graduation. They seemed pretty tight.” Sleeper sighed. “Let’s not go around trying to figure out who’s gay. If anyone is, let them keep their secret. All of us have stuff we want to keep private, at least for now. We’ll know when they want us to know. It’s not going to change anything, I’m not going to treat anyone differently, just like whatever Wanker does isn’t a problem as long as it doesn’t fuck with what we need to do and it doesn’t pull us down. We don’t know even a little bit of whatever Bootlicker and Wanker get up to, which is their secret to keep unless they want to tell us. So same thing goes for any other secret we might have. That’s our plan. And Bravo business stays Bravo business, agreed?” “Yeah, Brotherhood matters stay in the Brotherhood.” Cellblock agreed. “You’re right.” Shark said. “It’s not a big deal, we can’t do anything about it, and it’s a Bravo thing besides. If it needs to change, Assmunch will help us figure it out.” MiniHulk nodded. “Bravos for life. I feel like the minute I was put with you guys being in the Army just made sense. I love the shit we do, I love doing it with you guys.” “We’re not gonna have a group hug, are we? You bunch of homos.” Shark said, making everyone laugh. “Zeus, you good? Need to add anything.” Sleeper asked. “No, Sleeper. I’m good.” Zeus answered with his usual flat lack of emotion. Which meant he didn’t have a problem with any of it. Zeus wasn’t usually in on the squad leader meetings but he needed to get used to giving input. One on one with Sleeper Zeus didn’t have an issue with speaking up. But when the Bravos were present, he rarely spoke. Sleeper understood now that it was a confidence thing. Zeus didn’t feel like he had anything important to contribute, and that the rest of the Bravos usually covered everything he would say anyway. And, he was happy doing whatever the others decided. If he didn’t like it, he would simply not do it, like drinking alcohol or being stupid. “Okay, so once everyone is done eating, we load up and walk in the front door?” Sleeper moved forward. “Yeah, what else we gonna do?” Cellblock answered. “May as well get this punishment suck started.” Shark replied. MiniHulk nodded. “Not really much choice, is there?” They made their way back to the other Bravos who were slowing down on the deer meat. “What’s the plan?” Troll asked. A voice from someone hidden in the woods nearby called out. “The plan is you all go back to your families in box with a flag draped on it. You fucking stupid morons! You’re all dead. Where’s your perimeter guard?” A figure stepped out from behind a thick oak. “Sarge? What are you doing here?” Sleeper called out. The scowl on his face deepened as he watched the Bravos scramble to their feet and assume parade rest. “At least you haven’t forgotten THAT.” Sergeant Walker growled as he walked up. “You disappoint me, men. I thought I hammered it deep enough into your empty skulls that YOU DON’T FUCKING ENCAMP WITHOUT SETTING A WATCH! No fucking wonder they flew me across an entire… FUCKING … ocean to babysit you ugly useless pieces of shit. I wouldn’t allow any of you to exist on the bottom of my fucking boots. What a SPECTACULAR waste of my time and of the Army’s money. Your fathers should have jacked off into the fucking toilet and flushed all of you into a septic tank. What the fuck did I do to deserve this?” “We -“ Sleeper started. “DID I ASK YOU A QUESTION, GRUNT?” Sarge trotted up to within an inch of Sleeper and screamed into his face, coating it with a liberal amount of spittle. “WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DEAD MEN DON’T SPEAK YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING DICKHOLE OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL SHOVE MY BOOT DOWN YOUR FUCKING THROAT!” Sarge was driving himself up into a frenzied rage, and all of them knew what that meant. On the first circuit around the compound they saw Sarge helping himself to some of the deer meat, cooking it on a branch over the flames. On the second circuit around the compound they saw him sitting with Assmunch talking, and the deer carcass was gone. After the third time around Assmunch waved them over and they did fifty burpees and fifty mountain climbers, which ended them. “Set up camp.” Sarge ordered. “Here? But this is -“ Bootlicker tried to stop Wanker, but wasn’t fast enough. “YOU PICKED THIS GODFORSAKEN POSITION! AROUND THE COMPOUND THREE TIMES. Get the fuck out of my sight.” Sarge screamed. As the Bravos stumbled away for another brutal run you could hear Wanker taking a load of abuse. No one spoke when they returned and immediately began setting up camp. The location was definitely not suitable for camp. It was on a slope, the small clearing wasn’t large enough and the trees too close together, the ground was uneven, and there were way too many blind spots. Only groans could be heard, along with grunts of effort. Assmunch tasked three at time to walk the perimeter and keep watch. The sun had set by the time they were through and only the fire provided light for them to see. The temperature was dropping with every minute. “Grab some water and sit down. Class starts now.” Sarge said. When everyone was settled, he continued. “Private Brickmann, distribute the handbooks.” Each of them received a RANGER’S HANDBOOK. “This is your bible. You will memorize the Ranger Creed tonight. Each of you will recite the Creed by memory before you sleep. Private Brickmann, read it out loud. After you finish, you’ll begin Montelongo.” They took out their flashlights and opened their handbooks. They would get no sleep that night

LOL but of course!!! Hope you had a fantastic Thanksgiving bud!

“So why do they call you Puta instead of Puto?” Valentino asked, still snuggled under the covers to stay warm while Julio brushed his teeth in the mirror above the sink. Julio smiled in the mirror back at the sexy, somewhat innocent blonde. “Is better. When you call a man by a woman name, is two insults, not jus one.” He emphasized his point with his toothbrush. “Beside, dey only call me dat because das what I call dem. I don’t tink dey even know what it mean.” “What does it mean?” Valentino asked, seriously. “It mean ‘handsome’, very very handsome.” Puta replied with a straight face. Valentino nodded his head slowly in agreement. “Yeah, that makes sense. So you can call me Puta too.” Julio grinned. “Ay! No! It means whore, like a prostitute. Guapo is handsome, like you. You are guapo, muy guapo.” Valentino lay there with his mouth wide open in shock. “You… Ugh! I can’t believe I fell for that.” Julio walked back to the bed grinning. “Is what I like about you, guapo. You are very sweet.” “I’m not going to believe another word you say.” Valentino pouted, turning his head away. Julio climbed up on the bed on his hands and knees. “You are very sexy when you are angry, tesoro miso.” “Lies.” Valentino replied. Julio nuzzled Valentino’s neck with a growl. “Jess, like dat. Is making me want you more.” He kissed and licked his way up his lover’s neck, stopping his tongue at his ear to nibble and lick softly and slowly. In a soft voice he said “I think you are beautiful, sexy, sweet, a good man.” Punctuating each word with another lick, or a kiss. Valentino was moaning softly. “It’s not true.” He mumbled. “Is all true. You taste good, you smell good, you smile is like da sun when it rise above the ocean, you lips… mmm la fruta dulce…” Julio kissed his way over Valentino’s forehead with little pecks. He placed a hand on Valentino’s cheek and gently turned his head to look at him. He stared into Valentino’s eyes. “I am falling in love with you, Valentino.” The blonde closed his eyes and sighed. “Julio…. Please don’t play with me, not about that, okay?” Valentino was used to being disappointed. Most guys, at lease the ones he developed crushes on, were never interested in any kind of involved long term relationship. Sure, they loved having sex with him. He knew he was attractive, but his opinion was he looked boyish and not quite grown up. His ears stuck out just a bit too much. Not as bad as that guy Dumbo in the Bravos, but more than what he considered normal. He sighed. It didn’t help that he couldn’t suppress his eagerness about everything. He just wanted to jump in to get a task done, to learn the material, complete the training, pretty much everything. Even things he was reluctant to do, he just started immediately because he wanted to get it over with. So, he knew he came across as younger than he was. He even still volunteered way too much, which was a good thing and a bad thing. The other Charlies appreciated when he stepped up, keeping them from being assigned the duty. But it was getting to the point where he thought they expected it. “I not play with you about this, my love. At first, jess… we jus have fun.” Julio said, still stroking Valentino’s face softly. “But I see you are a very good person.” Julio sighed. “We not know where we go now, but maybe we don’t see each other again for a long time. I want you to know, Valentino, that I like you more than for jus fun. Is not bad to say how you feel.” *************************** Why did it have to be twenty two degrees out? At least the morning was sunny and the day would warm up above just above freezing in the afternoon. In the fucking dirt again, god DAMMIT. “This FUCKING SUCKS!” Demon shouted, expressing exactly what every single one of them was thinking. “Just think of that pussy you got this weekend, Demon. Happy thoughts.” Dumbo countered. “Yeah, well I’d rather be licking pussy than tasting this dirt. That was some good shit. Perfect tits too.” Demon responded with a little more calm. “Any ideas, Bootlicker?” Assmunch called out. The Bravos were currently immobilized, tied securely hand and foot and on their sides stripped down to underwear and tee shirts, scattered across the small clearing. “Yeah, I’m gonna have Wanker pull my dick out so I can take a piss on his ropes. Maybe that will loosen them enough he can get free.” Bootlicker answered. “Seriously, Bootlicker?” Wanker said angrily. “Hey, it’ll be nice and warm.” Bootlicker said with laughter in his voice. Half the Bravos laughed. “Fuck you, Bootlicker.” Wanker responded. “And fuck the rest of you too, assholes.” “Do it, Bootlicker.” Assmunch said. They had to get free, find their packs and gear where ever those guys had stashed them, and get warm. The clock was counting down. It was too cold to delay. “Pee on someone else. Why does it have to be me?” Wanker whined. “Pee on Weeble, he’s smaller, he can probably get out the ropes easier. He’s got little lady hands.” “You’re closer. I don’t want to crawl all the way over to Weeble.” Bootlicker said, already scooting his way towards Wanker. “Fuck my life. I hate every single one of you.” Wanker said in defeat. “You’re cut off, no more special privileges.” He threatened. “Aw, c’mon Wanker, don’t be like that. Some of us count on that.” Troll said. “We’re not the ones pissing on you. Hey, maybe you’ll like it, you never know. It’s a fetish some people have.” “Jess, Puta. Da Golden Showers. Lotta people like it, you maybe like it too.” Puta chimed in. “Just stop fucking talking about it!” Wanker shouted, making everyone laugh with the unhinged furious tone in his words. “I get to pee on you then, Bootlicker. Fair is fair.” Bootlicker laughed. “If we get tied up again, I’ll let you pee on me Wanker. Now reach in for my dick. It’s right there, feel?” “Yeah, I can feel your dick, you can stop humping into me asshole. This better work. Hold on…. There, it’s out.” “Here goes…” Bootlicker warned before letting loose. Wanker felt the hot stream pour over his hands, then it strengthened into a forceful flow. “Shit, it’s hot! Fuck Bootlicker, why is your piss that temperature?” “Temperature differential, idiot”. Bootlicker answered, grunting. “It feels warmer because you’re freezing. Shut up, I’m focusing.” “I’m free.” Weeble called out from further away. “Hell yeah Weeble, untie me!” Alaska responded immediately. “You can stop, Bootlicker!” Wanker exploded, trying to move away. Bootlicker laughed. “Sorry, can’t stop mid-stream, I have to finish.” Assmunch noticed the cloud of steam rising from between Bootlicker and Wanker as the hot urine splashed into the cold air. Well, Bootlicker was a dick, but Wanker should already know that. He couldn’t imagine how soaked Wanker was getting, Bootlicker was probably spraying all over Wankers back. At least he was getting a little warmth from it. And honestly, Assmunch thought it might be a fun thing to try with Kevin one day. Maybe. But in the shower, definitely not anywhere else. Wanker succeeded in rolling to his knees away from Bootlicker. Weeble of course freed Zeus and Sleeper first, then Sleeper untied Assmunch, and Assmunch went directly to Bootlicker and Wanker. Fun and games were fine, but no need to prolong Wanker’s torture. “It’s just piss, Wanker, settle down. It’s not going to hurt you.” He said as he undid the wet nylon paracord around Wanker’s wrists. “Doesn’t look like it was going to work anyway. I guess paracord doesn’t stretch when it gets wet like regular rope.” He looked over at Bootlicker, who was grinning. He already knew that, as Bootlicker would, of course. These two and their pranks. They’d sort it out between them. Wanker might be mad for a little bit, but he’d get over it. No one else wanted to play their kind of games, so they were stuck with each other. Holler and Alaska were already discussing figuring out where the men who’d done this to them took their packs and gear. Cellblock joined them, gesturing to the ground, then off to the west and the three of them split up slightly to head off in that general directly taking different routes. It wouldn’t be far, that much Assmunch knew. Probably 50 yards off in the woods, or less. The goal wasn’t to deprive them of their gear, but to make them search for it. Assmunch went over everything he remembered from the time when Major Collins turned them over to a group of fifteen rough looking men. They were transported several hours from Ft. Benning. Every time one of the Bravos tried to talk, they were shouted at to shut the fuck up, and these guys weren’t relaxed, they were serious, hard and unforgiving. They weren’t wearing uniforms of any kind, just basic khaki and desert colored tactical clothing. Every single one of them had facial hair of some kind, some full beards, mustaches, goatees. Definitely not active military unless they were SOF (Special Operations Forces). Those guys could do what they wanted and didn’t have to maintain grooming standards. When they reached their destination they were told to pack out for patrol, only given scant seconds to get themselves loaded up before ten of what Assmunch guessed were former soldiers began running off into the woods beside the compound they were in. There was no command, no order, but he knew the expectation was to follow. He began running immediately. The ten men were unencumbered by packs and gear and they set a brutal pace staying far enough ahead that it was extremely difficult to keep sight of them. The Bravos hadn’t run like this in weeks. They were also running on empty stomachs as they had been given no time to eat before they left the base well before sunrise. At least he’d told all of them to fill their canteens, even though the Bravos hadn’t needed the reminder. Any time you were told to gear up you didn’t dare neglect a single preparation. Sarge had taught them that with enough pain and suffering that it was now something they just did, every time. The message so far had been clear: the mission had begun and while they might not know the objective they were to operate as if they were in a combat zone which meant no questions, peak awareness, and act with deliberate attention. They would be told what was expected when it was time for them to know. Until then, pay attention. Assmunch memorized landmarks as he went, and he knew the Bravos were doing the same. An outcropping here, a hill there, this weird tree, following a ravine carved by washout during successive rains, a grouping of bushes that had vibrantly green leaves in the middle of winter. They were going overland in terrain, not taking a formerly beaten path, which made their exertion harder. Up, down, rarely level. At this pace, your knees, back, and ankles were likely to give out so extra care and attention were necessary to avoid injury. Two hours and extreme exhaustion later they were encircled in this very clearing and told to strip, which they did and then they were roughly restrained with knotted paracord as they were standing, their hands behind their backs. The final indignity was being shoved sideways to topple to the ground. The inexperienced might have been injured, but after Airborne they all automatically collapsed into a PLF that saved them from injury. They all just lay there grateful to have the rest this afforded after the insane ruck pace they’d just endured. Assmunch hid his surprise and how impressed he was when the ten men easily grabbed two or more of their packs and left the clearing. But that was useful information because he knew they were unlikely to take them very far before discarding them. Which also told Assmunch they were expected to retrieve them. Which meant they were expected to free themselves by any means necessary. See? There was information in every situation. He assumed when they found their gear they’d have a clue to the next objective. And if his gut feeling was right, it would be something they would have a very difficult time reaching before dark. If they didn’t achieve it, they would suffer for it, he knew. There was the slight possibility that a reward waited if they could succeed, perhaps the warmth of a campfire, a warm meal. So far, this was Infantry training basics: out for patrol, some form of ambush, a dirty trick to hamstring the platoon or squad, being pushed to force them to extend their limits… there’d be some sign of what they had to do next. The Bravos knew better than to call out when they found their gear, and instead Cellblock returned at a run. “Found it. We better hurry, there’s going to be a delay.” He said cryptically. Assmunch frowned when he saw what they were dealing with. All of their gear, every piece of equipment and clothing was strewn about, having been yanked out of their rucks before being thrown haphazardly over an area roughly thirty yards square. An area that didn’t have good drainage. Mud and ankle deep water everywhere. Up in the branches of several trees, more gear. “Let’s get to it, locate everyone’s blouses first, dry is top priority. No sense putting on trousers or boots yet. Chunk, Sleeper, Dumbo, Wanker, Holler, Weeble and Troll, you stay here and sort everyone’s stuff. The rest of you, let’s go swimming.” Every piece of clothing, every piece of gear and equipment would have someone’s name written on it in permanent marker. More information came from this scene of chaos and destruction: these guys weren’t going to make it easy on them. In fact, they were going to be worse than tough, they would descend to the worst levels of punishment and torture. Was it a test? Preparation? Did it matter? “Fuck, they destroyed the MRE’s we had.” Dimples called out, holding up an open kit that had several tears in it most likely made by a field knife. Yeah, this was definitely intended to be a level below hell. “Anyone seeing any sleeping bags? I haven’t come across one yet.” Fuck… if they had to shelter somewhere it was going to be almost impossible in this freezing weather. “Then let’s hurry up, the longer this takes, the sooner darkness comes. We need to be on our way.” Assmunch announced, pulling up a pair of underwear that said ‘Chambers’. Weeble’s. Fuck they were small. He chucked them over to the group waiting on dry land. “Cellblock, there has to be some sort of clue about what we do next. Find it.” “I’m on it, Assmunch.” Holler called out in his thick twang. “Nuthin thisaway, Cellblock. Might could be yonder.” Did people really talk like that these days? Assmunch supposed so, after all there was a real live hillbilly right over there freezing in his underwear talking in a whole other language of made up words and gibberish. Holler was an incredibly likable guy, fairly innocent and eager. It would be easy to base an assessment of his intelligence on his speech, but Holler wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t as smart as Cellblock or Bootlicker, but he learned his stuff as well as everyone else, maybe with a little help on the reading part. Assmunch suspected Holler had a reading disability. He had more than a little trouble struggling his way through some of the manuals they were given. But that didn’t mean he was stupid, far from it. Once something was explained to him, he connected the dots just fine. And he was clever. He taught everyone who didn’t already know how to place every element of their weapon in a specific order and place when field stripping so that it could be reassembled in the quickest time. Even if you were right handed, it was faster to put some parts with your left hand because re-orienting your weapon ate up valuable half-seconds. All of them practiced Holler’s method now and were within a second of each other in their races. Dimples, on the other hand, was a master at loading a magazine. Click, click, click, click, click…his hands moved so fast you couldn’t see him palm the next round before he pushed it down and in. Fortunately, their captors hadn’t been total dicks, and made sure the important gear and clothing stayed dry, but there was enough wet stuff that Assmunch wondered if it might be useful to light a few fires to dry the stuff out. But that would take time, and Assmunch had his intuition gnawing at him that time was something they didn’t have much of. It wasn’t long before they each had every piece of their gear and kit and they busied themselves with re-packing their rucks. “Figure it out, men, we have to move.” He called out, making the decision he knew he was going to make from the very start. Still, you can’t ignore the options and actually have to consider their usefulness. Doing that becomes a habit over time, and you might miss a critical element at a crucial time during a mission, so never skip the options part. No fire. Had they been left with food, it might have been useful to fuel up before patrol. “Nuthin, Assmunch”. Holler called out before running to his pile. “Not a thing, Assmunch”. Cellblock echoed from his search area. “Well fuck. Holler, pick your team. Guess we have to do this the hard way.” Assmunch grumbled. “Alray know.” Holler called back. “He knows which direction they went, or already figured it was going to be the hard way.” Cellblock repeated. Early on, the Bravos set up a system where anyone who understood what Holler said just repeated it in plain English. Most of the time, it wasn’t that hard, and Holler was making an effort to say things clearer, but every now and then he rolled marbles around in his mouth while he spoke. Holler smiled. “Yup, Yup.” “Both.” Cellblock said. “Good, I’ve got a bad feeling this is going to really suck, and we won’t eat until we reach our objective.” Assmunch said, causing a low murmur. “They say that in the Army, the biscuits are so fine, One rolled off the table, and killed a friend of mine.” Shark called out. The Bravos answered in cadence… “OH I DON’T WANT NO MORE OF ARMY LIFE, GEE MA, I WANNA GO HOME!” And from there, everyone called out their favorite verse. Pancakes, coffee, meat, Soon, they were following Holler through the woods and brush as he tracked their captors. It didn’t go fast because even when Holler darted up ahead, it could be a false trail. The group stayed at a deliberate, slow pace while the scout and his team investigated the signs of previous passage. Tracking Patrol was in the hands of the scout. The platoon only had to stay aware for signs of ambush. Holler’s team was reliable, consisting of Footlong, Shark, Silent and AF who had proven themselves time and time again to be the best at discerning the most minute indications. Tracking was a talent, not something that could be learned entirely from a book. Holler explained it was a a feeling you got, mostly intuition, and your brain put different signs together. Only in the best circumstances did you have a boot print in the mud. More often it was how the vegetation was positioned, it was thinking like what you were tracking ‘I’d stay on hard ground, so that way isn’t an option’, or ‘brambles too thick up there, I’d want to keep moving quickly, so it has to be that way.’ Game trails were great, and useful if speed was the need, which was usually the case for anything that was running away from something. If deception and ambush, or getting lost was the goal, hiding places, high ground, cover…those were likely to indicate direction of travel. Were your targets experienced or a novice? Choices would be made, different for each. Hundreds of small inputs that Holler said he didn’t have to think about anymore. He had a reliability scale in his head that just made him know he could count on a sign or indication. He came running back. “Eh split up”. He said. “Of course they did. What do you think they’re doing?” Assmunch asked, he didn’t even question Holler’s conclusions anymore. Holler shrugged. “Might could be they wanna come round n hit us from aside.” “Ten of them? Hmmmm. Seems unlikely, but I’ll have Demon pick perimeter scouts.” Assmunch replied. He received a single nod from Holler. Best to cover as many possibilities as you could. “It’s up to you, Holler. What’s our move?” “Eh know we followin’, eh want us ta, athink”. Holler grinned. “Athink we oughta not.” Assmunch chuckled. “You want to throw a wrench in their big plan?” “Yup.” “You got an idea of where we need to be?” “Sumkinadea” So Holler had come to a decision about what they needed to do. It wasn’t a 100% certainty, but he was confident it was the right thing to do in this situation. With an unknown enemy who definitely had a plan, most of the time you wanted to be unpredictable, choose the craziest safe option, something they might not have planned for. You force them to adjust and they might just make a mistake. “Cellblock, MiniHulk, Sleeper, Shark…”. Assmunch called out to his squad leaders, who came running over. “First, anyone know where we are? My guess is somewhere in Northern Alabama.” Assmunch asked. “Yeah, they brought us mostly north. If we’re over the Georgia/Alabama border, it’s not by much.” Cellblock answered. “Holler wants to change the game. Agree? Disagree? Options? Counters?” Assmunch asked. “Is our objective to find these guys, or fortify a position and wait?” Shark asked. “Holler thinks we’re meant to follow them but they aren’t making it easy. If we’re being led to an encampment they aren’t going straight there, which means they’re burning time. You have anything more, Holler?” Assmunch explained. “Yup, been goin nor’east, roundabouts, cept not drectly. Figger what we need gonna end up thar anyways.” Holler heaved his shoulders. “Howbout fuckitdoit? Caint be far.” Assmunch gazed at his squad leaders. The best thing about them was they all thought differently. Cellblock liked safe options. Sleeper was aggressive, preferring confronting a challenge directly, testing their limits, busting in through the front door with shock and awe. Shark was sneaky and brutal, if he could add a little damage to an objective he would. Shark never wanted to use a door, he wanted to blow a hole in the side of the building and go in that way. “Last thing they’re ready for.” He’d say. Shark and Demon got along great. MiniHulk was usually by the book, deliberate and precise, never in a hurry, chipping away at an objective and eroding resistance. And even better, they each defended their position with well thought out support. The four squad leaders were looking at each other, and Assmunch knew they were mulling over what they would do and comparing it with Holler’s choice. Sleeper was the first to respond. “Fuckitdoit.” He said. Cellblock crossed his arms and scowled. “Fuckitdoit” Shark agreed, shooting a challenge at Cellblock. MiniHulk looked at Cellblock. “What’s the advantage of doing it this way? Get there sooner? We don’t even know what ‘there’ is.” Sleeper crossed his arms to mirror Cellblock. “Give us time to recon, maybe catch them unprepared.” “You really think these guys are unprepared? Really? These guys?” MiniHulk asked. Cellblock waved a hand indicating the woods. “You know we’re probably being watched, right? They probably haven’t let us out of their sight the whole time. Whatever this op is, we’re the mice in the maze.” “All I know is, if we don’t follow their script we don’t step into their traps.” Shark replied. “Who knows what they have waiting for us?” “And how long do you think they’ll run us around in circles wearing us out? We can’t do this all day, none of us have eaten.” Sleeper shot back. “We can’t play by their rules. Every action they’ve made so far was to slow us down, delay us. They’re either buying time, or they don’t want us to find the encampment until they’ve decided we should.” “You’re assuming there’s an encampment.” Cellblock argued. “there’s SOME kind of base of operations. We just have to find it.” Shark said. “You sure it’s that way, Holler?” Cellblock asked, gesturing to the northeast. “Yup, gotta be.” Holler replied. “Here’s what I think. I think we’re being evaluated.” Cellblock began. “They are testing our skills. I don’t know what this whole thing is, but we know these guys are military, or ex military but they aren’t wearing uniforms.” This is the part of Cellblock Assmunch loved, why he was a valued squad leader. He dissected things, and then laid them out for everyone to see clearly. He had a perspective that weighed and evaluated the composition of a problem, narrowed down the possible solutions. “What if this is a Q course? We fail if we don’t go through each section.” “Then we immediately re-run it.” Sleeper answered quickly. “And they didn’t bring us through a gate, there’s no signs about a military installation, government property, we weren’t dropped off in a compound or depot.” Shark threw in. “Some secret Q-course? That’s not how it works.” MiniHulk put his hands on his hips. “What if this is a Special Forces course? It wouldn’t have all that Shark. There wouldn’t be some big sign “HEY, SOF SKILLS COURSE, RIGHT HERE!!!” Assmunch thought that was a good point. There were plenty of installations that weren’t broadcast as a military facility, just a basic chain link fence with no signage except ‘no trespassing’. But, even places like that had SOME kind of building or facility, even if it was a bunker in an otherwise nondescript hill. “I’m tempted to agree with Holler. I don’t like playing follow the leader. I don’t like playing by their rules when we don’t know who THEY are, or what they intend, or where they are leading us, what they’re going to do to us.” Assmunch began. “They didn’t instruct us, just set us loose. They WANT us to figure it out for ourselves. I think the reason they are just wandering out here, why they split up now, is they are waiting for us to make a decision.” he looked at Cellblock. “If this is an evaluation, it’s an awful lot of trouble just to see how we track an enemy and patrol over terrain. I’m assuming they already know we can do that. Now they want to see what we can really do. They want us to choose.” ***************************** Hidden in a tree some distance from the platoon was a man dressed in wilderness camouflage, and he was studying the Bravos while remaining immovable inside the evergreen branches of the large pine. No leaves of the deciduous trees blocked his view. The leaves had long since fallen to the ground. “Him. I want HIM.” The man holding binoculars called down in low tones. It was clear who he meant, the guy who seemed to be in charge of the platoon, the one everyone paid attention to. “Copy.” The man standing by the trunk answered before running off.

Yes, I actually had more encounters planned…but, Lamont’s kind of an asshole and writing him disgusts me a little. Not for the sex, but how he goes about it. He’s kind of a predator. Anyway, I planned for him to fuck the salesman he saw, who was going to be reluctant and Lamont was going to sweet talk him into doing things he didn’t want to do, culminating in Lamont fucking him bare after the guy asked him to use a condom, but Lamont relents and pulls out to cum. Then he was going to the Heretic, and get fucked on the dance floor, blow a guy in the bathroom, but bolt when someone tried to fuck him raw in the dark room. Going back to the motel, after 1 a.m. on a Friday night, the motel gets very cruisy. There’s a lot of foot traffic. I was going to have Lamont have a few safe encounters until 3 a.m. At that point, he’d have been awake for 24 hours. I REALLY wanted to do the Saturday night at the Eagle I’d set up, and get into some leather play, but again, my soul felt greasy after what I did write so I decided I’d sent the message I wanted to send, which was WHY the Bravos are so special, and seeing Lamont, a Charlie, and how he behaves and who he is, I wanted people to understand with that contrast how much better of a person, a leader, Assmunch is.

Absolutely! We absolutely don’t want boring. LOL

LOL. Yeah, my chapters tend to run long, but I’m glad you like it!

Thanks man!

Dude, as far as I’m concerned I love everything about you, and consider you part of our community, not to mention the absolute best of both worlds when it comes to sex. FTM are male in every way that counts for me, plus the added bonus (if not fully transitioned) of that pussy. Fucking, eating, all of it. Trust me, there are plenty of us here that consider you sexy and desirable. And those that don’t…like most other things…who cares about them? Belonging is only part acceptance…the other part is asserting your right to be included.

LAMONT Private Nathan Lamont knew he had to be careful, but he had a plan. He was overjoyed when the Charlies were given a four day pass after their Airborne graduation with the big city of Atlanta, Georgia so close by. He’d checked with everyone to see what their plans were and wasn’t surprised when everyone else decided to stay local to party and relax. He could get a hotel in Atlanta in Midtown and no one he knew would be around that he had to avoid. He would stay in the Cheshire Motor Inn, a place with a particularly seedy reputation within walking distance of the new bar The Heretic. He also wanted to hit the Atlanta Eagle, another bar that catered to the Leather scene. Two of those places were on the restricted list the Army maintained to keep soldiers away from unsavory and illegal activities. Lamont was well informed about how to avoid notice and it was never any problem to keep under the radar. His dick remained hard from the moment he decided on his plan, but he had no outlet for his sexual frustration at the moment. His usual go-to, Valentino, had been avoiding him ever since the first week at Airborne and he’d come to the conclusion that the pretty, agreeable, and energetic blonde soldier found another dick to fuck his amazing ass. That was a shame, because Valentino was a fun fuck, simultaneously submissive and eager. Even so, Valentino was strictly a bottom, and Lamont had his cum-filled balls set on getting fucked as much as he did the fucking. His opportunities for sex were rare and he had to get as much as he could in the next three days. Lamont easily found the bulletin board at Benning on which rides were posted that were available to Atlanta, both official and personal and he selected one at random. A Corporal Etlinger wanted $20 in gas money, which was a little expensive, but the ride met Lamont’s other requirements. He didn’t want an official ride that would put him in Atlanta, and a Corporal was low enough rank that a Private from a different unit riding with him wouldn’t raise eyebrows. And hopefully the Corporal wouldn’t have a lot of questions about his intentions even though he had a story prepared about visiting a friend who had moved there. His last task was to check his kit, gear, and equipment into the storage depot on post where soldiers could drop off their stuff when they went TDY or to a special course elsewhere that didn’t require them to have their gear. He was only going to bring his small backpack with a couple changes of civilian clothes. Corporal Etlinger’s glittery metallic brown Mustang with white pinstriping down the side pulled up to the curb two minutes before 1400 hrs. Lamont saw an arm wearing a blue plaid flannel shirt reach out to the passenger door to open it. “You Lamont?” The voice called out. “Yeah, that’s me.” Lamont answered, stepping towards the open passenger door. “Get in, let’s get on the road.” Etlinger said. Lamont pushed his backpack behind the passenger seat into the back. “Bucket seats? Nice!” He commented. “Bitchin ride, dude.” He said as he climbed in. “Thanks. Only reason I signed up for this bullshit.” Etlinger responded. “Don’t slam the door.” Lamont had lucked out. Etlinger was a fucking fox. His loose fit, straight leg Levis looked new, and under his open front plaid flannel button down, a crew neck black tee shirt hugged his somewhat muscular chest before tucking into his jeans. He had a heavy gold chain encircling his neck. Etlinger’s brown hair and brown eyes gazed at him with intensity. Handsome, but not pretty and just rough enough around the edges to look like good blue collar stock, the look was enhanced by the five o’clock shadow on Etlinger’s jaw. Hmmm. Now that he was inside the Mustang, Etlinger’s five o’clock shadow looked clipped, edged and cultivated rather than natural, which was a turn off. Lamont didn’t like it when guys tried too hard to look good, or affected stuff he considered decoration like some loud and flashy bird doing a mating dance. He did have great teeth and a nice body, but his eyebrows looked sculpted and shaped. Lamont revised his earlier assessment, Etlinger obviously thought of himself as some kind of player, some hot shit asshole. The gold chain, eyebrows, stubble, glowing white Nike high tops with the laces loose rather than tied, the tongue pulled forward - fucking Ugh. The only thing missing was a cut in the eyebrow to mimic a scar, and some line patterns etched into the buzzed hair just above his ear like Vanilla Ice. Lamont imagined the only reason he didn’t see any of that was grooming regs wouldn’t allow it. He wondered what Etlinger did in the Army, he seemed to have way too much time to focus on how he looked, plus a shit corporal getting a Friday afternoon off? “Seatbelt. I don’t need any MP bullshit.” Etlinger ordered. “Where’s the $20?” Probably some admin job, command staff, his CO away for the week for one reason or another, his Sergeant or LT taking the opportunity for a short day, long weekend for themselves. Lamont scrambled to grab the belt and secure it. That was another thing, Etlinger was talking to him like he was irritated, ordering him rather than asking. And fucking Corporals didn’t get to order fucking Privates to do fucking anything. They could, sure…if they wanted to get a reputation as a dick, but it was unlikely that the Private wasn’t going to call their bullshit. But Lamont was just here for a ride so he pulled out his wallet and fished a twenty out and handed it to Etlinger. That’s fine, it was just a couple hours or so. They didn’t have to talk. Lamont looked out the passenger window. He didn’t miss that Etlinger hadn’t said ‘thanks’ when he handed him the money. His opinion of the Corporal fell even further. The drive to I-85 went by fast, neither of them saying anything. Even if Lamont wanted to say something, the unrecognizable hip hop group blasting through the stereo speakers made it impossible, with the thump of a subwoofer (probably in the trunk) buffeting his body. He couldn’t even decipher the words or what the song was about. Lamont wondered how much Etlinger spent on all this image bullshit. Probably everything he made. Well, they didn’t have to be friends. Lamont relaxed his attitude. Who cared anyway? He realized he was being bitchy because Etlinger disappointed him after his initial assessment and went from fox to fuckwad. The Army was full of Etlingers. Young idiots with the first real steady money they’d ever had and poor financial choices quickly followed. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. It had been an early morning. He didn’t really sleep, just dozed. He was in an unfamiliar car, with someone he didn’t know (and didn’t much like) which meant his training wouldn’t let his brain let go of all awareness. Infantry never rests unless your brothers are around you to take watch and let you collapse unconscious for a couple hours of good sleep. Worst way to fall asleep, and the best sleep you get. Nothing better than your lights just going out and you remember nothing until you get shaken awake two hours later. So yeah, he wasn’t sleeping but he didn’t need to. Another thing you learned out on patrol was how to close your eyes and rest your body and brain without actually falling asleep. It could bring you back to almost human when you were too exhausted to even move. He felt the car slow and opened his eyes. They were coming to a traffic light, on a street crowded with buildings. Probably downtown Atlanta. He reached over and turned down the radio a bit, receiving a dirty look from Etlinger. “Hey, any chance you can drop me off near my hotel? It’s off of Cheshire Bridge Rd, near Piedmont.” “Sure, give me a roadie and I’ll drop you off.” Etlinger replied with a smirk. “Seriously man?” Lamont said with a scowl. “I’m not sucking your dick, dude.” Rule Number One: No military. Well, except for Valentino, but Lamont knew Valentino wasn’t going to say anything. This guy? Absofuckinglutelynot. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to walk a few miles. Hell, walking an actual sidewalk was a luxury compared to rucking over terrain. Just the thought of getting near this fake-ass poser’s dick made his stomach turn. Lamont was proud to be a slut, but he was a slut with standards. “Let me out here.” He said. “It was a joke man.” Etlinger complained in sullen accusation, as if it was Lamont who crossed the line. He reached behind the seat and pulled up his backpack, then leveled Hip Hop White Boy with a look that promised violence. He could take this asshole apart with one hand without breaking a sweat. “Pull over, fuckface. I’m not asking.” Lamont’s patience was gone. “Okay, man. Relax.” Funny, Etlinger’s entire tone and demeanor changed completely. His cockiness was non-existent, his face no longer held that cultivated jutting jaw, one eyebrow raised, no fake snarl on his lips. He literally deflated. Now Lamont could see the actual person Etlinger was, and he looked sad and pathetic. Without his image act, the corporal was not impressive at all, just some poor kid (hah! Etlinger had to be three or four years older than Lamont, but Lamont couldn’t help seeing a kid). All veneer, no substance. What the hell was happening to the Army? Lamont also felt a little shook with the realization that people older than him, with more rank, weren’t necessarily better people with their shit together. He shouldn’t be surprised by now. The worst was realizing that about a superior officer in your chain of command. When that happened, it really stung because without competent leadership you were surely dead, and you began doubting your training, which in turn undermined your confidence in your missions and objectives. And those were the BIG 3 in Infantry: Training, Mission, and Objectives. Etlinger pulled into a parking lot, some fast food place called The Varsity. He’d eaten before leaving the base, so he wasn’t hungry. As soon as the Mustang stopped, he popped the lock and opened the door to climb out. “Look, dog…” Etlinger started. Lamont just about threw up in his mouth. Dog? Was that some kind of insult? He ignored the idiot. He made sure to slam the door before walking away. Back at Benning Lamont had studied a map of Atlanta, and the area he was going to be staying in, so he knew roughly where he needed to be. All he had to do was figure out where he was currently. He walked to the nearest intersection, which was not far. He was on North Avenue and the Interstate wasn’t far away, about a block or two. So, he was Southwest of his target location. He started walking. He reached the Cheshire Motor Inn at 1830 hrs just as it was getting dark. The walk was pleasant. Neighborhoods, a huge park, strip malls, offices, historic homes, just like any other American city. He checked in using his fake I.D. He was 22 year old Abel Calloway, from Fort Wayne, Indiana. His fake was professionally done, and had cost him $1100 but it was money well spent as he got a birth certificate, a social security card, and a driver’s license, all valid. Abel Calloway was real, or at least he would have been if he had lived past the age of 8. The Cheshire Motor Inn was a relic of the 1950’s, it had a couple two story buildings side by side, then one single story row across the parking lot. Your room opened out onto the parking lot, a single big window beside the door. But Lamont didn’t care about any of that. What he did care about was that the Motel was cruisy. And close to the bars and other places he wanted to hit. As he was walking to his room, he noticed a man in his late 20’s or early 30’s unloading a suitcase from his Chrysler LeBaron. The suit and tie, the LeBaron, the Motel, a worn suitcase… salesman most likely, saving money by getting a cheap Motel room. The man caught Lamont staring and nodded in greeting. Lamont nodded back. Not bad. Not the best looking guy, but hey, dick was dick, and he wasn’t gross or ugly, just out of shape. Besides, the gold wedding ring on his left hand made him a desirable target all by itself. Lamont didn’t necessarily have a thing for married guys, it was that they were clean and safe for the most part. Married guys were just as worried about catching something and bringing it back to their wives as Lamont was. Plus, married guys were primarily straight guys who just needed a little relief, or to get their freak on once in a while. Whether they were suppressing actual homosexual feelings was something Lamont didn’t think about too much. It didn’t matter why, what mattered was there was an awful lot of otherwise straight married men out there who didn’t mind getting off with another guy. But there were two other things Lamont appreciated about married guys - first, they almost always topped or wanted a blowjob and rarely reciprocated, and second, they were usually older guys. He guessed it took some time for your marriage to become boring enough to find some way to get that thrill again that wasn’t happening with your wife. The salesman was a possibility, but later. First order of business, get a shower, make sure he was cleaned out, then something light to eat. A restaurant called The Collonade was nearby, but it looked expensive. Real restaurants where you sat down and a waiter brought your food were all too expensive for his Private’s pay. On his way to the motel just up the block he had walked past a mom and pop Italian place he’d try instead. He could probably have dinner for ten bucks. After eating, he popped a couple breath mints before walking inside the adult novelty shop across the street. He needed lube. It was a shame he’d have to throw out whatever he didn’t use, for one practical reason and one personal reason: Carrying an unsecured liquid in your gear was a recipe for disaster. You may as well just take the top off and pour it all over your stuff yourself. And second - he sure as hell didn’t want anyone seeing him with lube. All sorts of questions would come up. The whole idea of lube was still a new phenomenon for the average normal American. Deviants and perverts were the ones who found it necessary to use assistance for sex, like toys and lube. It was getting more common, but still one of those ‘better not anyone know’ type of things. While trying to decide on which brand to buy, he notice a sign behind the register that said ‘$5 minimum purchase for tokens’ and asked the clerk what the tokens were for. “Video booths behind that door over there.” The clerk indicated a door off to the side of the shop. Lamont perked up at hearing that. “I’ll take $5, thanks. And the WET with the blue top, small bottle.” He preferred Wet, just seemed a little more slippery and long lasting. There were other lubes that just became sticky or dried out in the air. Once his purchased was made, he went to the door. It took his eyes about ten seconds to adjust fully from the glaring fluorescent lights out in the store to the darkness of the area behind the door. A dark, seedy Candyland awaited. The place was moderately busy, with about sixteen or so booths arranged in a small maze. There were some guys leaning against the wall near the entry door, but Lamont could see more bodies wandering around further back. The sound of porn could be heard from somewhere nearby. He decided to just walk the place first, get an idea of the layout, as well as check out the clientele before he made any decisions. He felt the eyes of the three guys near the entrance checking him out, and he gave a mental smile but ignored them. He wouldn’t have to chase anyone down, not in here. The entire place was painted black, with the only light being an ‘EXIT’ sign and small lights above the booth doors indicating if one was ‘In Use’, as well as the ambient glow on the ceiling from the tvs playing porn in the booths. Just enough to see someone’s basic features. The hallways were small, making it difficult to pass by another person without touching. The smell was familiar, and his body had a now automatic response of surging heartbeat, increased blood pressure, shallow breathing and an instantly hard dick. It was the smell of sex, exclusively male sex, an underlying scent of men, and cum mixed with basic antiseptic Lysol. Every single Adult Theater or place where multitudes of men had sex smelled exactly like this, and the scent became associated with sexual thrill, orgasm, the hunt, hard cock, grunts of pleasure, hunger, thrusting anonymously with strangers, complete abandon and fifteen other now automatic reflex thoughts and feelings. Smell was one of the most powerful human senses in terms of automatic nervous system response. Smell was what warned you a predator was near, spiking your adrenaline immediately. The smell of food spurring hunger. Rot or death indicating possible danger, disease, revulsion. Perfume or cologne signaling seduction and your guard relaxed. Every single smell in the entire world forced your body to react before your mind even translated what the smell meant. Before you knew what the world was, as a newborn infant, the smell of your mother instilled comfort and safety. Smell could trump rational observation. It was why they were taught very early on that deodorant and cologne weren’t used when you were on mission, on patrol, or out in the field. The enemy could catch the scent on the wind, and a smart enemy could determine your location. Simple human sweat could be anyone, including a fellow enemy or soldier, but created scents were very specific. You still didn’t want to get too ripe though, but dirt, sand, some leafy plant with a strong odor usually took care of the worst ripeness. Part of their field training included using scent to recon and track. Smoke from a fire, oil and metal from heavy machinery, a cigarette, food cooking. They were taught that cigarette smoking was forbidden in most situations for that very reason, and that frequent smokers had a deadened sense of smell that couldn’t pick up subtle clues that others could and that the smell of a burning cigarette traveled a very long distance. As with the guys by the entry door, Lamont felt the eyes rake over him in the dark and the focused attention sent a single message: fresh meat. He’d have to be careful. The pushy ones sometimes made it difficult for others to approach him. A slut with standards chose the daily special, rather than being chosen by them. Sometimes Lamont was direct, when he wanted to fuck. Being assertive and dominant sent a clear message who was taking care of who. Which mean the opposite behavior signaled a willingness to get fucked or suck some dick. It was always better to draw the nervous ones in with a little shyness, but repeated looks that darted away when you were caught looking indicated interest, and promoted increased assertiveness by your target. Sometimes Lamont wanted eager, desperate and hungry. But today he wanted reluctant, nervous, doubtful. He wanted the ones who were picky, and he knew he could get them. There were always two or three in places like this. Guys who hated the necessity of having to resort to anonymous sex, who hadn’t yet reconciled the feelings they got from trashy anonymous sex with the regretful thoughts of self recrimination they had for not liking vanilla sex as much. Lamont knew he could inspire desire, just by being young and in incredible shape, for men like those. His youth, at 20 years old, indicated he was relatively pristine, they’d read it as inexperienced, and if there was anything that type wanted it was a fresh, young, clean body. He’d learned sex club etiquette not long after he turned 18, but there were additional rules in Adult arcades and theaters. A direct look before entering a booth said ‘follow me in, or take the next booth for gloryhole action.’ Once in a booth, if you hadn’t checked out the person in the adjoining booth first, a quick glance through the hole would tell you the level of interest, whether you were interested yourself, and what type of action they might be looking for. Stroking your hard dick indicated you wanted your dick sucked or to fuck. Just being in a booth with a gloryhole indicated you wanted to be watched at least, and were potentially looking for action. If you wanted to provoke, all you had to do was choose a movie and start rubbing your cock through your pants. There actually were booths that were completely private if you were just there to watch Schoolgirl Vixen III take it up the ass while you beat your sad, neglected meat in a place that would get you excommunicated from your church if they knew you couldn’t even bring yourself to ejaculate on the floor and instead held a wad of paper towels you’d hastily grabbed from the bathroom to hide your shameful orgasm. After all, Jesus might watch you jack off, but flaunting your pleasure weakness by spraying your seed everywhere was stepping over the line. There were plenty of those types that frequented places like this too. They could be spotted by the avoided eye contact, nervousness and the way they made a beeline towards a booth. But cruising had it’s own unwritten rules, developed over decades of secret, hidden places that catered to the world of men who didn’t want intimacy or involvement. Even back when homosexuality was against the law there were places men could go for anonymous sex in which neither party knew who the other was, thereby avoiding exposure. Masked parties, back rooms, secret clubs, abandoned buildings, infrequently visited locations like parks at night, wharves and piers with cargo creating dark and hidden areas, truck stops and gas station bathrooms. Lamont figured a man’s sexual needs invariably drove him to find any outlet for his desire, and while a minority percentage of men were devoted to women in general, and eventually to one woman in particular, the vast majority of men just wanted to get off with anything that had a hole. They’d settle for a women to provide a family, comfort, and taking care of the home. But for them, it was only a matter of incentive and desperation to determine the degree to which they’d sink to have the primordial thrill of spilling a load of jizz from their balls into just about anyone, whether it be a whore, a mistress, a cocksucker or some random stranger they’d never meet again. In video arcades, once in a booth, not pulling your dick out, or sitting on the bench or chair meant you were the one looking to service cock. Or it could mean you were just passing time in a booth, or waiting for just the right guy. Lamont hated the ones that just sat in a booth without doing anything. It basically took two booths out of commission. If all you wanted to do was sit there, get one of the booths without gloryholes. He’d once thought maybe they just wanted to watch another guy jack off without any interest in actually having physical contact, but fuck…everyone that came to these places wouldn’t just want to have someone watch them jack off, would they? Up ahead stood someone that immediately drew Lamont’s interest. The way he was leaning against the wall, affecting a casual boredom and disinterest piqued Lamont’s curiosity. The low visibility didn’t reveal a lot except the guy’s basic build which was decent enough to be suitable for Lamont’s needs - trim waist, average but developed shoulders, just slightly smaller than Lamont. As he got closer he saw short, close cropped dark hair and a goatee, along with a very proud nose. Handsome, maybe blue collar, kind of rough looking. Somewhere between late 20’s and mid 30’s. Something about him started Lamont’s cock dripping. Damn, he had to reel this one in. He knew the play, the guy’s boredom said Lamont would have to seduce. Lamont let his eyebrows relax and opened his lips slightly as he passed him, putting out an innocent vibe. He changed his shoulders from confident to uncertain and meek, he slowed his stride. When the guy’s eyes met his, Lamont looked down. Looking down was ‘damn I was caught, I’m scared’. Looking away was sometimes dismissive and sometimes uninterested, but it always signaled confidence. Lamont wanted this one to think he was prey, so confidence was the wrong play. He waited a three count before performing a quick look as he passed. That was important, the second look. The second look said ‘I really liked what I saw.’ Lamont turned the corner and stopped. His heart was beating. He loved the game, the hunt, the chase, the uncertainty and potential. Would the guy follow? Lamont suddenly thought if the guy was following, giving in too easily would make the guy dismiss him. His intuition was something he could rely on, it had never failed him, and it was finely developed from the time he was 12 and began learning the ropes of seducing his teammates on the swim team, and some of their dads. But his proudest moment was seducing his coach when he was 16. Lamont inhaled. He could smell the scent of someone’s recent orgasm, probably from the booth at his back. Cum, that heady odor a man exuded as he was driven to shoot his seed, it all floated in the air around him. He pushed off the wall and walked slowly. He didn’t look back. If the guy was following him, it would be better if he thought Lamont didn’t know he was being followed. Hunters wanted to catch their prey, feel powerful doing it, getting a thrill from an unexpected attack. Lamont heard steps behind him. He moved aside to the row of three booths, trying to make himself small. He was a scared little baby animal, unsure of his environment, seeking safety. “‘Scuse me” a deep voice came from his left. Lamont let himself shrink further towards the wall. He pretended to be startled, flattening himself against the booth door behind him, which gave way and opened. He shot a shocked look to the man with the voice. It was his target. He darted inside and closed the door. If he was right, the booth next door would open in few seconds. Lamont reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple tokens to feed them into the machine. A porn started, some pretty blonde was getting SuperDicked by a black guy wearing a white tee shirt. She looked so small, his cock was fucking huge, stretching her pussy to the absolute limit. The scene panned out and there were four other huge black guys surrounding her. Lamont thought her pigtails were a nice touch, it made her look like she’d just turned 18 if not younger. Damn, that dude was giving it to her hard, and she was yelping. Poor little white girl, she was going to get fucked full of so much black cock. She probably wouldn’t make her Chemistry test tomorrow, so sad. She was going to get kicked off the cheerleading team! Lamont kind of hoped this was the kind of video where they fucked her full of cum, leaving her pussy dripping. But he knew the scene had just started, so he hit the ‘NEXT’ button while he waited for hot goatee guy to commit. Lamont bent over to look through the gloryholes on either side. Nothing yet on his left, where he expected goatee guy to come in. On the right was an even older guy, hard to tell, as all he saw was a decent six inch cock being stroked through the zipper fly of the guy’s jeans. Definitely straight. Straight guys loved pulling their cocks through their flys, as if exposing themselves more meant they wanted to do gay stuff. Still, the wedding ring, heavy watch, hairy arms, and large gut put the guy on Lamont’s list. Dick was dick, and clean married dick, even just six inches, was dick worth sucking. Guy probably wouldn’t fuck, Lamont knew the type. But a nice thick load of mid-life crisis and empty nest dissatisfaction would energize him for his night out later. Daddies were always so grateful. He heard the creak of the door to the booth to his left, and the latch click. He darted a quick look, noting the white tee shirt and Levi jeans matching goatee guy. Lamont immediately stood up and felt himself through his own jeans. Fuck, or get fucked? Goatee guy would decide. Lamont waited ten seconds, didn’t see the guy’s fingers come through the hole, so he bent over to take a look through the hole. Fucking Goddamn holy shit! Goatee guy had his pants pulled down to mid thigh stroking a thick eight incher. Lamont was done playing games, this was a cock prize, fucking FIRST PRIZE in the cock contest. But he didn’t lose his cool. The game was the game, the hunt was the hunt. Too forward, and the stud would bolt. He tentatively put his index finger on the rim of the hole, then pulled it back quickly. Hard to miss if Mr. BlueCollar Goatee was looking, which Lamont knew he was. Hell, Lamont could hear the lame dialogue of the porn BlueCollar Goatee was watching, and he sure as hell wasn’t watching Mrs. Bigtits tell the Plumber that her washing machine was leaking and all she wanted was to put another load in. But BlueCollar Goatee was playing the game too. Lamont watched while his stroking slowed, and he grabbed his balls and dick together, shaking it up and down. He expected Lamont to be watching, that’s what made Lamont’s heart skip a beat. Lamont felt his salivary glands release a gush of saliva. This dude had waited patiently for just the right guy to walk in, wanting someone who would appreciate the beauty of his perfect cock, his big hanging balls. Well, BlueCollar Goatee had hooked the right fish with his bait because Lamont knew exactly what this guy needed. And at that moment, Lamont knew if the guy wanted it raw, he would have it. His intuition was thrumming. There was a thrilling confidence, almost arrogance to this guy that Lamont loved. This one loved to fuck, loved his own dick and wanted to push it inside someone worthy. This was a guy who chose who he had sex with carefully, who didn’t just fuck any hole he could get, and Lamont knew he could get any hole he wanted in this place. He dripped masculinity and aloof confidence. Lamont knelt down in front of the glory hole and hooked his finger, keeping it there this time. He put his face close, so the guy knew what he was getting, a mouth, available, waiting and willing. And he knew which mouth it was, he’d seen Lamont dart inside the booth. There was only one reason BlueCollar Goatee was doing his dance. It was a message: show me you want it, because all eight inches wants you. The guy kept stroking slowly, obviously enjoying the tease. He squeezed towards the tip, producing a clear drop of pre cum before pointing his dick toward the hole. Lamont stared watching the thick fluid gather then start to descend, dripping in slow motion. He did the only thing he could, he opened his mouth and put his tongue out. BlueCollar stepped closer and wiped the head of his cock across Lamont’s tongue. Lamont was beyond the game now as his tongue retracted to savor the salty flavor of this magnificent man. Fuck, his fluid tasted unbelievable. He was lost now, succumbed to the wanting, the desire. The game was over. BlueCollar was going to sink his dick into his waiting mouth. His eyes barely saw through the top of the hole, but the hunger had a hold of him and the tease had him tunneled, everything in his focus was this man’s naked hips, his hairy wild bush, his thick rigid dick and the turgid penis grasped tightly in a masculine fist. The presence of tiny black hairs on the knuckles of BlueCollar’s hand sent Lamont into a spiral of lust. This was a man, a tough fucker who knew the value of what he held. He considered his cock as a trophy to be acquired, something for a winner, an achiever. Lamont knew that every cock he lusted after was on this pedestal, and BlueCollar loved the game, the hunt, just like he did, which only heightened Lamont’s lust. This was a competitor, and the challenge demanded he make the interaction as competitive as he could. So Lamont did the unexpected. He stood up and pushed his own impressive dick through the hole…because BlueCollar was being a tease, and this was the moment that would determine how their meeting happened. If BlueCollar was going to hold back, Lamont would press. Oh, he understood the value, the allure, the seduction of holding back, but it was time to engage, to breach… either BlueCollar wanted direct engagement or he wanted more. Lamont had decided a dick was penetrating one person or the other. And a young 20 year old iron-hard 7 inch curved cock would force BlueCollar Goatee to decide what he wanted more… hot young innocent mouth or hard dick. Lamont was ready for either but his preference was to be the one taking BlueCollar’s cock. He felt a hand stroke his cock, a good sign. BlueCollar wasn’t afraid to touch a dick. The stroking was… amateurish… perfunctory. Definitely a ‘not interested in that but still willing to play’ message. Lamont withdrew to find BlueCollar pushing his cock in almost right beside his. Fuck, here it was. Lamont dropped into a squat, pushing his mouth onto the hard dripping cock in front of him. He swallowed it half way, not wanting to send the message that he was experienced…yet. He let out a deliberate choke, gagging. “Fuck, you better suck that dick, boy. That’s what you wanted.” He heard BlueCollar say from the other side of the wall,. Lamont did another dive, as if he was eager to please, and choked again. “Yeah, choke on that cock. Go deeper, faggot.” Fuck…Lamont had hit the jackpot. A dominant, abusive straight dude in denial. Right off the bat he hooked a dude who was just waiting for some faggot hole to force his dick into. If there was any God looking out for him, this BlueCollar Goatee would fuck his raw dick violently up his ass as deep as he could force it and spew a healthy load of baby batter guts deep into Lamont’s willing and receptive fuckhole. In the age of AIDS, a raw fuck and ropes of straight cum were rare commodities. It almost never happened. Lamont’s intuition told him this was a guy who was either between girlfriends, or had decided fags would take his cum when women demanded a condom. The sexual world for straights had changed just as drastically after the mid 80’s when they figured out AIDS wasn’t just a gay disease. Now everyone was scared. Everyone was putting on condoms. Fucking dental dams were being used just for cunnilingus. Porn was changing, cumshots were never internal or near an opening. AIDS had changed everything. The throat slime was all over Lamont’s chin, and he had to back off the huge cock to take a breath. He looked over his shoulder and saw that six inch cock shoved through the hole. Guess that guy was watching the action after all. That was the benefit of being the middle booth in the glory hold triplet. What the fuck, why not. He stood up and went to suck old dude’s dick, bending over. BlueCollar could wait. He was hooked. Might be good for him to sit in frustration. Lamont didn’t play any games with six incher…he swallowed that whole, all the way down. It wasn’t too thick or unmanageable. Nice size. A mouthful. He knew his ass was facing BlueCollar’s gloryhole, deliberately. BlueCollar would have to make a decision. His cocksucker was otherwise occupied…what would he do? Oh, how unfortunate, there was only the untouched butthole of a 20 year old inexperienced youngster right here … what should I do? BlueCollar did what every hormone laden hardon encumbered male would do. He spit on his cock and pushed. Lamont was penetrated at both ends, the booth perfectly dimensioned for him to press his ass to the hole behind him and at his head. Fuck yeah. He had a moment of pure bliss. Cocks at both ends, and his favorite one in his ass, another in his mouth. If they came at the same time, in his holes, he’d cum without touching himself. He knew BlueCollar didn’t put on a condom, which frightened him and thrilled him at the same time. Fuck, what was he doing? The guy was a stranger. He couldn’t stop himself, even so. He knew if BlueCollar wanted to fuck his jizz deep in his ass he wouldn’t stop. He wanted that guy’s cum, he wanted it deep up his ass. Fuck, old guy in his mouth was welcome to shoot too. Old married guys who were gut-laden, wife and three kids, cock through his fly…he got relief maybe a couple times a year if he was lucky. Lamont would gladly swallow every swimmer the guy pumped out. BlueCollar was pumping head to balls when the older guy unloaded with a series of grunts into Lamonts mouth. It was sweet and thick, every successive volley heavier and more voluminous until Lamont’s mouth was filled with cum. Damn, the guy must have been saving that up for a while. Spit or swallow? Reason prevailed, and Lamont spit the wad of jizz out onto the floor. The fantasy was fine to entertain, actually sucking down a stranger’s load was something else entirely. As disappointing as it was, Lamont had to be careful. But the thick thrusting cock stretching his asshole was sending him into a state of abandon. It had been too long since he’d felt a raw dick up his ass. 8 months to be exact. He knew he was playing with fire and the danger element contributed to his heady, heightened arousal. BlueCollar was bouncing against the plywood wall of the booth, thrusting hard, not caring about the damage he might be doing to the young pliant hole on the other side. Fuck, BlueCollar was so deep. Lamont kept still, pressing his ass back against the hole, mentally willing the man to lose control and shoot. He could hit the bathroom after and expel the man’s seed, he told himself. That would reduce the risk, right? Yeah, that would be fine, no different than spitting a load out from his mouth. Lamont had always loved that place in between, the thrilling indecision where what your mind wanted disagreed with what your conscience told you should be done. It was the choice, the potential for complete satisfaction that remained just out of reach. It was leaving the decision to the very last minute, would BlueCollar pull out or would he seek to force his cum deep inside Lamont? Would Lamont even know the moment it was happening or would BlueCollar ejaculate silently without providing a clue? Had the man already cum and was he just fucking his deposited load into a frothy foam now? Lamont realized then that he didn’t care. The man was sexy, hot, virile and being inseminated by him was what Lamont craved. Fuck, he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t resist his basic nature. The game he played with himself was the most fun, how he told himself he wouldn’t be a complete whore when the real him understood he had no true control and that he would always take the risk. No, he’d say, not this time. This time I’ll be careful, I won’t do what I did before. But then he’d do it anyway because caution, safety, protection were just not ultimately satisfying. Most of the time in this day and age, the top made the decision for him, putting on a rubber before fucking, which did sooth Lamont and he did honestly love the rest of the sex, the kissing, the sweaty bodies, the grunting and feeling of a full, stretched ass, of being dominated and submitting himself to a man. All of that was wonderful and satisfying. Very few interactions resulted in what Lamont would term ‘bad sex’. However, raw, risky dangerous sex was in a whole different universe, whether it be a risky public location that could result in being caught, a person who was supposed to be untouchable because of their position like his swim coach, or having unsafe sex without a condom. Sometimes he thought there must be something wrong with him that he loved it as much as he did. Why couldn’t he like plain, straightforward vanilla sex as much as he loved the other kind? Why was something illicit and forbidden such a thrill? But those were questions for him to ponder AFTER he committed the act, not while the most incredible dick he’d had in a long time was fucking him so good he didn’t even care that another dick had come through the hole in front of his face. Not a bad dick, but he hadn’t had the opportunity to see the guy attached so he wasn’t going to touch it. He was a slut with standards, and the new dick didn’t meet his standards. Lamont raised his left leg to put it on the bench in the booth, giving his ass a better spread and allowing him to feel BlueCollar’s awesome cock in a different way. Fuuuuuuccck, the dude knew how to use that cock, deep long strokes that alternated between brutal and deep, to slow and shallow thrusts. He’d been at it for more than five minutes and Lamont knew the guy was holding off, determined to enjoy the young 20 year old hole as long as he could. Quality recognized quality, and BlueCollar probably understood something like this young hole didn’t come along but rarely. BlueCollar paused in his thrusts, and Lamont knew the moment was near, he was trying to keep from shooting. This was the moment, the time for a decision. He could pull off, let BlueCollar shoot all over his ass, feel the warm, sticky liquid spurt over the sensitive skin and drip down. He knew he’d already made his decision the moment he saw the guy’s cock through the hole, he wouldn’t pull off. Besides, he told himself, untold amounts of precum had already been fucked deep inside him, who knew how much was already pooled in his guts, so what was the harm in more? A simple rationalization that he might regret later, but regret had no place in the present. Regret was a future thought that considered the past, always, restricted by its own rules of operation. Now that the choice was reconciled, Lamont’s bloodstream was flooded with all the adrenaline, serotonin and endorphins his nervous system needed to send his head into a maelstrom of sexual pleasure that rivaled an orgasm. Lamonts balls were fully retracted, his dick as hard as he’d ever felt it, dripping with its own surging young pre-cum. He started moving his ass up and down on the dick, fucking himself back onto the shaft. BlueCollar began shoving even more violently and they met in a perfect rhythm of synchronized lust. BlueCollar had made his own decision, just as Lamont had done on numerous similar occasions, the decision to inject his hot load inside the hole beneath him regardless of consequences. It was the ultimate feeling of sexual release when a top and a bottom agreed on how it all would end, when they merged as a single rutting beast with one goal: FUCK to IMPREGNATE. Lamont let out an involuntary moan, he wanted it so bad that he’d lost all sense of his surroundings. His brain was fully focused on the cock in his ass, the vision of this rough, sexy man’s muscular ass propelling his thick hairy cock into Lamont’s willing asshole, pounding against the booth walls and sending the unmistakable sounds of violent sexual release out into the rest of the arcade which were more apparent now that both of their video tokens had run out of time. In an instant, Lamont felt the wall behind him shake, the cock inside him stop and spasm, the motions of the man behind the wall became erratic, breaking the rhythm. Lamont closed his eyes and pressed fully against the wall. He was being inseminated, milky white sperm shooting out deep inside his guts in ever increasing jerks of the hyper masculine fuckpole so beautifully designed by genetics and nature to commit this very act inside a warm bodily cavity. Lamont never felt so rewarded or complete as when his hole achieved this purpose of bringing another man to orgasm, as if he’d fulfilled his purpose, that he’d done everything right and giving release to a man filled an emptiness inside him. When he bottomed it was almost completely about allowing the man to use him fully, he almost didn’t even care about his own dick, or shooting his own load. He knew how it felt to cum inside another man’s ass, to fill them with his seed, to give them that potent genetic fluid meant to pass along a part of himself to a worthy partner. It was as if a part of him would then live inside them for the rest of their lives. It was a form of procreation, inseminating another, and it didn’t matter if it resulted in pregnancy. Some form of his genetic material would fertilize the membranes it found. Sperm had an infallible directive - wriggle inside and disintegrate to disperse your payload for absorption. It was this that he wanted from certain men, from specific cocks. He wanted part of their attractive masculinity to be implanted in him, just as he wanted his to mix with specific other men. And he knew he would feel all the best attributes of BlueCollar merge with him making him a stronger, more capable man. BlueCollar had slowed his thrusts, almost completely stopping in motion, before pulling his cock out of Lamont’s ass. Lamont hurriedly turned and looked through the hole. He wanted one last look. Fuck, that was a beautiful cock, something about the dark hairy busy framed its now shiny length perfectly. BlueCollar was in the process of using a papertowel to wipe it clean before pulling up his boxers and jeans quickly. He seemed in a rush, a feeling Lamont knew all too well. The act was completed, it was necessary but now that it was finished the urge to leave trumped everything else. A quick check of the hands on each of BlueCollar’s pockets, probably to assure himself that nothing had fallen out, like his keys, money, or wallet, before he unlatched the door and left. Lamont liked his style. No thank you, no words exchanged, no final look. In fact, every action indicated that Lamont no longer existed. That comforted him, another indication that BlueCollar had resorted to this for one purpose, to get off and nothing more. Lamont searched himself for any sign of disappointment, regret or fault for what he’d done, and found nothing except the desire to allow that man to do the same thing again. He ran a couple fingers over his freshly fucked hole and played with the sticky reminder of his conquest. Fuck, if he didn’t have another dick his entire weekend he’d still be satisfied. A fuck like he’d just taken was going to make it difficult to enjoy any other men for weeks, he knew. He realized he was done here. He had no desire to troll around to find what was likely to be disappointing after that, but he’d keep the rest of the tokens because he also realized he’d probably return here at some point over the next couple days. He also needed to get a couple hours sleep before going out tonight. The hunt at a gay bar was a different kind of game involving flirting, tease, projecting a persona to bait interest. Along with that came the ability to completely relax among others of his kind without looking over his shoulder at who might be watching. Lamont imagined the disappointment in the men positioned along the halls of the arcade as he walked out the exit.

Thanks man! I was deliberately holding back on touching on Sleeper’s backstory because if I’d done it BEFORE the relationship with Zeus, it would make Sleeper look like a bad guy. And he’s not. But yeah, it’s one of the twists I needed, to get Zeus to grow, so it will be painful. And trust me, it’s truthfully hurting me to have to do it. But they do have a little more time together, so there’s that.

Thanks man!

As usual, my vacation made me want to never come back. LOL. And I am sore from work, and it’s not even strenuous, just wiring for new lights and drywall patching. But damn my shoulders and legs feel all the overhead work and ladder climbing. Last night I slept good for the first time since being back. It’s rare for me to sleep past 4 a.m., but this morning I woke up at 5:15. It felt like being on vacation again. Sleeper’s parents won’t give up, so they will find a way, but he has a little more time, and he needs to stick around long enough to let Assmunch and Zeus know his real story. It’s funny, isn’t it, how the branches are filled with people from so many different backgrounds, some you look at an wonder ‘why would you put yourself through this if you could have a fantastic life without superiors ordering you around all day?’ But everyone has a different reason for joining up, and some do it on impulse, or they just want to get as far away from their previous life as they can. Back in my dad’s day, it was about the security of a promised career, decent income, being legitimate. Now I hear a lot of stories about learning trades and being instantly employable after a 4 year or 8 year enlistment. And of course, all the branches now have the ‘up or out’ approach, so hanging around just treading water for a paycheck isn’t possible. I hope your four day weekend at the beach house was fun!

SLEEPER AND ZEUS Sleeper was nervous. He didn’t like it when he didn’t know what was next. Assmunch had gone off with his family and his boyfriend. Kevin was nothing like what he imagined he would be. Sleeper felt a little bad that he thought Kevin would be more… well… gay. Instead, the dude was impressive. Not just the way he looked at you with those startling grey eyes, which felt like he pulled you apart like a weapons disassembly, but also his weighty silence felt a lot like Zeus. Leave it to Assmunch to pick someone dangerous and smart. Sleeper didn’t feel exactly threatened, but Kevin had measured him with those eyes and Sleeper felt challenged. That was the truth of it: Kevin challenged him, with just a stare, no words, like Sleeper better live up to Assmunch’s expectations. Protective? Jealous? Asshole? Competition? Sleeper couldn’t choose the sense he received, and that was probably more unsettling than knowing. Kevin felt solid and immovable. Just the sort he’d choose for his best friend if a dude was where he wanted to plant his dick. Sleeper couldn’t picture Kevin getting fucked, the guy seemed wound pretty tight. Assmunch had told him Kevin had fucked him, but Sleeper wondered if it ever went the other way. It had to, right? It wasn’t like Assmunch was going to lay down for just anyone. Sleeper hadn’t been paying attention when Assmunch left, so he had no idea where he was staying. More than half the guys were going to get hotel rooms in town and relax for the next four days. A few were talking about some State Park and a lake. Sleeper thought it might be good to join them, but he didn’t know what to do with Zeus. Gabriel had made it clear there wouldn’t be any more sex because it was against the regs. Sleeper couldn’t bring himself to be angry with Zeus, he wasn’t exactly wrong and besides it was impossible to get angry at a God you loved. Plus, part of Sleeper realized he was risking getting booted and that worried him more than anything else because his four year enlistment contract was the only thing keeping him from having to return to his mother and father. So whatever Zeus said, whatever he wanted, Sleeper would deal with. But none of that kept Sleeper from wanting it. He growled with frustration. He’d finally reached the point where he understood the whispered ghosts of Gabriel’s subtle emotionless moods, felt like he had unlocked a deeper connection with Gabriel and that they knew each other in a way that didn’t require talking about it. Now Zeus was back to being a blank wall while they didn’t get a moment away from the Bravos or the Army. “What should we do, Addison?” The source of his frustration asked from beside him. “Don’t know, Gabriel. But we don’t have anywhere to stay here on Benning.” Gabriel shrugged. “Where’s Andrew?” Okay, he could work with that. Zeus preferred to stick by Assmunch. Or maybe the huge man thought Assmunch would tell them what to do. “He’s already gone with his family and boy—his friend Kevin.” Fuck, he almost slipped up. Zeus knew, that wasn’t the problem. It was that you didn’t say anything like that out loud, not on post. Of course it would probably be taken as a joke anyway, someone was always referring to someone else as a ‘boyfriend’ when taking a dig at one of the brothers. “Bootlicker, take your boyfriend out for some fun.” Talking about Wanker. “Troll, control your boyfriend.” Talking about Demon. But that was between the Bravos. Sleeper didn’t need some random overhearing him describe Kevin, a civilian, as Assmunch’s boyfriend. Sleeper watched the drills of the next Airborne Class from his seat on the grass next to Zeus, his back leaning against his duffel, his legs on top of his MOLLE, enjoying the chilly, crisp remainder of the morning just before noon. It felt clean, and Sleeper loved the feeling of achievement and completion you got at the end of training. An expectant potential existed right at this moment between an awarded accomplishment and unknown assignment that would follow. Down the street another group of students were being double timed, probably going to the gravel pits for more PLF drills, something about them looked green. Cadre were shouting out instructions, students calling out replies. Benning during daylight was a bustle of activity, a well choreographed dance of moving AIT trainees just out of Basic (quartered and instructed in another area of Benning), Airborne students, Command duty functions, and day to day operations, maintenance and duty of both Airborne Regiments and Ranger Regiments. All the civilians from the graduation were probably cleared off post already. A Staff Sergeant was directing some Corporals and Privates while they loaded the tents from their graduation onto trucks. Probably Airborne, but who knows, he couldn’t see their patches from here. It was shit duty, so they could also be fuck ups going through AIT or some dumb fuck from training command. If it was punishment, the SSgt would have them run behind the trucks breathing diesel exhaust while he rode on the back screaming at them to keep up. That brought a smile to his face. Nothing was better than seeing someone get smoked. Getting smoked was a term that described any exercise punishment suck, not really breathing exhaust. Run a mile, pushups, sit-ups, mountain climbers, dig a hole and fill it in, move rocks (think 40 pound rocks), crawl… limited only by the imagination of the Sergeant but usually geared toward completely exhausting you. It happened ALL THE FUCKING TIME in Basic, and it was how you got to know your Drills were fucking assholes. If your Drill saw a cloud in the sky… you get smoked and do fifty. If he didn’t like how you said ‘Good morning Drill Sergeant’ you get smoked and run three miles. Your left eyeball didn’t match your right eyeball right on the very thin edge of the brim of his cap? Crawl on your elbows and knees for fifty yards then do fifty burpees. Didn’t have your manual memorized for that week’s instruction? Can’t name parts of your weapon; your Drill’s middle name (hint: they NEVER told you their middle name), you didn’t eat fast enough, your shoulder didn’t line up with the man next to you, you get the picture. Fifty was a common number, probably because it didn’t eat up too much time, but still got you worn out because doing them slowly wasn’t an option with a screaming Drill kicking dirt at you and spitting on you when he screamed. In AIT you didn’t get smoked as often unless you or your Platoon fucked up. Sometimes it was Company wide, but Company wide meant you pissed off your First Sergeant somehow, probably by failing to meet some target in either operations or training. Still, there was always the chance of a random smoking just because. After AIT, it hardly happened at all in the regular ranks but in Infantry you dealt with it until you ranked up enough that someone else was the target. One stripers got smoked just for fun in Infantry until you learned to just stop bitching about it. It fell off in direct proportion to your attitude. Sleeper sighed. He could do this for the rest of his life and be happy. He loved that his future was completely in his own hands. No family obligations. No expectations of fictitious ancestral honor to adhere to even in private moments. He could say ‘fuck’ all he wanted. He didn’t have to pretend to be someone else. He could eat what he fucking wanted, well, most of the time. His words and actions were all his own, and they affected only himself. He let out a small laugh of happiness, which caused Gabriel to glance over. He just winked back. Eventually he might tell Assmunch and Gabriel about his upbringing, his family, their connections and money, but for now he loved the freedom he felt. He loved how no one knew who he was or where he came from and just expected him to be a regular guy, just a grunt. Freedom was always relative. For him, the rigid and regulated U.S. Army was far more free than he’d ever been in his entire life and his future felt wide open, exciting, and unpredictable. He loved that he could play the average but competent regular guy and no one expected greatness from him. Being normal was a relief. He could finally relax. Just some dumb Private in a green sea of other dumb Privates. Anonymous and completely unremarkable. Every rank he achieved was due to his own efforts and his own desires. Awards. Recognition. Not a single person gave a fuck that he was Addison Cristobal Augurius Emigdio Montelongo Garrido on his Certificado de Nacimiento for Spain, and Addison Christopher Garrido-Montelongo for his American Birth Certificate. He almost hated that name. Almost. “I heard a few of the guys saying they were going to camp in Standing Boy State Park. You wanna go?” He asked Gabriel. Gabriel smiled, mostly with his eyes, but his lips lifted just slightly too. “Yes.” He said. Wow. A whole ‘yes’ instead of the usual noncommittal ‘okay’. Hmmm. Gabriel must be in an exceptionally good mood. Sleeper felt his own spirits lift even higher with the realization. “Cool. Let’s do it.” He replied to Gabriel, and the sudden urge to kiss him popped into his head. He immediately squashed it. Nope. Just bros. ‘Keep it together, Addison. Don’t scare the Giant God’. He thought. They already had everything they needed on their backs, even food if they were willing to eat the MRE’s in their packs. Which Sleeper wasn’t. Besides, he might have maybe five, it’s not like they carried a whole pantry of supplies with them. They usually got issued MRE’s during field training or patrols, and they could buy them on Post if they wanted, but the good ones were usually picked clean by the time you got there. Ratfucking the MRE’s was commonplace. He chuckled. ‘The good ones.’ Yeah, well he’d pick eating an MRE sitting in the dirt with the Bravos over the silent, joyless, scrutinized mealtime with his parents, holding his fork just right, not drinking a sip until the end of each meal course, always sitting upright, and a hundred other rules and manners of Class society. He told Gabriel they needed to go shopping at the Commissary first. ******************* By 1600 they were setting up camp in Standing Boy. He let Zeus scout a good site with running water of a decent creek nearby, after a two hour hike into the woods. It wasn’t a dry year so the Park Ranger at the entrance said campfires were okay, but they had to be extinguished if they left camp for any period of time. That wasn’t a problem. “But I know I don’t have to worry about you Ft. Benning boys.” The Ranger said, which said more about his recourse of reporting them to the base than any real confidence in them as individuals. Starting a fire from scratch took little effort anymore, and partially burned wood meant getting the next fire going even easier, so putting it out was no trouble at all. “You want a tent?” He asked Gabriel when he brought another armload of deadwood from the woods. Gabriel shrugged. “Yeah, weather’s nice. You’re right, no tent.” He said, dumping the wood by the fire pit Gabriel had dug out and encircled with rocks. Besides, if the temperature was cold, you got condensation on the inside walls of the tent fabric from breathing and body heat, which invariably ended up dripping on you, or raining down on you if the wind shook the tent or you rolled over and shook the tent yourself. Tents were great for the rain, but just too many problems if it wasn’t. And tents were even worse than sleeping bags for concentrating the smell of two grown men. If you had to exit the tent for any reason, then went back in after being in the fresh air, the smell just about made you pass out. Added to those basic practical reasons, it was already ingrained in both of them that hiding yourself away inside a tent meant you had no sight on your perimeter and sound was blocked, so you could easily be caught unaware. Sleeper didn’t expect to have anything to worry about, but being lax about their environment went against all their training. Funny how that worked - how the Army slowly erased any civilian comfort from your blood in that constant glacial grind until you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore how the Army wanted you to do something as unremarkable as camping out. “You hungry? I’m hungry. You feel like chicken, or steak?” Sleeper asked. They had splurged at the Commissary, knowing the temperatures for the next few days wouldn’t rise above 40 degrees so meat would keep just fine for three days until they cooked it, or already cooked meat would keep too. They’d bought about fifty pounds of food and Sleeper was going to eat everything he wanted, whenever he wanted for the next three days. He silently sent his hope that Gabriel would choose steak, really willing it to happen. Steak. Steak. Steak. Ever since he saw the inch thick ribeyes his mouth was watering with the taste of wood fired beef. It was a chant in his head. Steak. Steak! Steak! “Can we have steak?” Gabriel said like a kid at Christmas. Sleeper threw his head back and let out a long, loud wolf howl, scaring something in the woods not too far away. When his breath ran out, he laughed. “FUCK YEAH WE’RE GONNA HAVE FUCKIN STEAK!!!” Gabriel was smiling like a fool. “Give a howl Gabriel! We’re MEN and we’re eating MEAT TONIGHT!!!” And he threw his head back again and roared. Gabriel followed with a resounding howl that sent shivers down Sleeper’s spine. Fuck, the Ranger at the entrance probably heard that. He found himself grinning at Gabriel with pride and amazement. “Get a fire going, I’ll get the stuff out and hang the rest.” While the wood burned down to a manageable and consistent level, they arranged the rest of the camp. A latrine dug ten feet from the fire, a paracord over a branch 16 feet up to hang the pack holding the food, tied to another branch 6 feet up, dead sticks and brush scattered in a ring around the camp to provide advance warning of anything larger than a house cat intruding, pine straw bedding under the sleeping bags. He managed to convince Gabriel that zipping their bags together was best and he promised he wouldn’t try anything. “Okay Addision.” Gabriel had finally agreed. “We can still snuggle though, won’t hurt to keep warm. And it’s not against regs, right?” He said. Besides, even a doubled sack was going to be filled to capacity with him and Gabriel, so they were going to be on top of each other regardless. “No, it’s not wrong. Okay.” Gabriel smiled. Sleeper’s heart soared. Who cared about sex? They could just cuddle up, maybe talk about stuff, tell jokes, fall asleep. It even felt like that was better, keeping their honor intact. “Hey, why’d you build a rock table in the fire?” Addison asked. Gabriel had found two eight inch tall stones that he put on either side of the fire, and had placed a relatively flat rock that spanned across and balanced expertly on top. Gabriel cocked his head. “For cooking, Addison.” “What? How?” Addison really didn’t know much about cooking. He could use a sterno to heat up an MRE, probably cook an egg, but that was it. “The fire heats the rock, gets it real hot. You have to pick the right rock though, the wrong ones explode. A flat, thin piece of slate is good, if it’s dry.” Gabriel explained. “No shit?” “How were you going to cook the food, Addison?” Gabriel asked. Addison felt embarrassed. “I hadn’t thought about it, I figured we’d just stick stuff over the fire, on a branch or something.” Gabriel grinned and shook his head. “The rocks help at night too, when it’s cold.” Sleeper gave him a dry look. “Yeah, I learned that too in Survival. But they didn’t cover gourmet camping, bro.” His giant friend looked at him with a sweet, innocent look. “It’s okay Sleeper, I’ll make sure you don’t starve and die.” Sleeper froze in shock. “Fuck me…did you just make a joke, Gabriel?” The smile he got from his big blonde friend blazed like the sun, his hazel eyes playful, and Addison’s heart swelled just that much more. “Fuckin proud of yourself, are you?” Sleeper laughed. “That was really good! Alright, one for Gabriel. I’ll get you back.” Gabriel turned out to be an excellent cook, or maybe Sleeper was just hungry enough to eat his own leg, but regardless the steak and vegetables were incredible. He knew it had something to do with being there alone with Gabriel, out in the wild, with not a single worry or care. They ate side by side, and every so often he’d lean up against Gabriel’s shoulder and give him a grin as he chewed. He loved how sitting next to each other his head came just over Gabriel’s shoulder and he was the small one. They didn’t speak, just enjoyed the moment and the peace of the woods. Yeah, this was just perfect. They took their time, both of them choosing to eat with their hands and share the warmth of the fire. They didn’t have a house around them, but a domestic comforting peace settled inside him and he realized he would take eating a simple meal in front of a fire with this man over anything else in the world, for the rest of his life. There was something about Gabriel that held no motives, no worries, no fears, as if life for him was an entirely clean slate and life was ever forward and never looking back. Addison’s heart had dreamed of exactly that since he was old enough to realize the prison of his name and the shackles of his family. He’d never been deeply religious, in spite of his family’s strict Catholicism, but he felt compelled to say a silent word of thanks to God for this time in his life, for the beauty around him, and the beauty of the man beside him. “Hold on, you have something on your face.” He said. “What? Where?” Gabriel asked and started to raise his hand to wipe. “No, I’ll get it.” Addison replied, figuring his hand was just greasy enough from holding the now non-existent steak. He reached out gently at first, then wiped his hand solidly across Gabriel’s cheek and onto his forehead. “There. It’s gone now.” He grinned. “You just…” Gabriel started, his mouth hanging open. Addison was up and running just as Gabriel reached out. “Too late, bro! Got you back! We’re even!” Laughing as he ran toward the creek nearby. “I’m going to catch you!” He heard Gabriel shout, which only made him laugh harder. He kicked off his boots, and stripped off his blouse and undershirt as he ran, then unbuckled his belt and pants. He bunny hopped to get out of them. Gabriel was really close, so he had to hurry. Just before Gabriel got to him, he jumped naked into the creek. “Fuck it’s cold!!!” He shouted. “Don’t make me come in there, Addison.” Gabriel said from the bank, hands on hips, a stern look on his face and a smear of black char and grease from his cheek across his eye to his forehead, making him look like an angry tribesman. He actually looked kinda hot, like Arnold Schwarzenegger in the first Predator movie. Predator 2 was okay, but not as good as the first one. Sleeper hadn’t even seen the first one until after he was out of Basic. After a group at AIT had gone to see Predator 2 at the base theater in 1990 they were floored with disbelief when they found out Sleeper hadn’t seen the first one, so one of his AIT buddies rented the VHS and they watched it in the day room that night. His parents didn’t feel movies in general were a good use of time, so he’d rarely seen one at a theater, and they certainly didn’t have a VHS machine at home. You’d need a TV to hook one up anyway. “Hey bro, you got something on your face.” Addison replied, laughing from his position in the middle of the creek. He sank down to his shoulders and ducked his head in the freezing water, washing his hands. It really didn’t feel too bad once you were in, but he knew he couldn’t stay for long. “Come on, you need to wash too. Don’t be a baby.” Gabriel crossed his arms and scowled, then threw them up in the air and started stripping. Addison let out another wolf howl as he watched his beautiful naked man try to navigate the creek bank carefully, eliciting a grin from Gabriel. They each grabbed a handful of dormant grass from the bank and scrubbed themselves quickly so they could get out of the freezing water. Gabriel shot him a frown as he rubbed the grass across his face to get rid of the stubborn grease Sleeper had smeared there. The blonde giant dipped down under the surface to rinse. He came back up slow, stopping when the water was just below his eyes. The look he gave Addison promised retribution. “No! Gabriel, we’re even! Don’t even think about it. Don’t. Don’t.” Addison said seriously, moving backwards toward the bank while he pointed at his friend with one finger in warning. “Don’t.” The giant exposed the rest of his face. The worst part was that he didn’t say a word while he tracked Addison with his own movements, his hazel eyes half closed. “You better not!” Addison continued, hoping to buy time to get away. He was being hunted. He had no idea what Gabriel had in mind but he wasn’t going to wait around to find out. He took a quick look over his shoulder to determine how far away the bank was. He broke the rule about taking your eyes off your opponent. When he jerked his head back around Gabriel had a handful of creek mud that hit him square in the face, and the battle was on. Addison reflexively batted the hand away but the mud accomplished the goal of blinding and distracting him for a critical moment, enough for Gabriel to capture him in a grapple that lifted him off his feet, their naked bodies coming together and Addison felt momentarily weakened by the seductive heat of Gabriel’s skin in the freezing water. Fuck, the heat of that huge body felt good. Still, he fought, squirming in Gabriel’s embrace while blind, he didn’t want the runny mud to get in his eyes. The water helped him get his arms up between Gabriel’s muscular elbows and he flexed outward trying to break the massive man’s hold. He arched backwards with a grunt and Gabriel’s arms released, and Addison flopped backwards in the water. He quickly wiped his face and stood up. On dry ground, Addison could put up a good fight with Gabriel in normal circumstances even though he always lost to the height, weight and skill advantage Gabriel had over him eventually. However, in the waist deep creek with a soft muddy bottom Addison had little hope. But fuck if he was just going to give up that easily. He decided his only chance was to go on the attack, throw Gabriel off balance and buy himself enough time to get out of the creek and run. The challenge was how? The creek was waist deep for him, but only thigh deep for Gabriel. Still, the bottom wasn’t level or solid enough to provide stable footing so if he could knock the giant off his feet he might create an opening to give himself the lead he needed. He couldn’t delay too long, the cold water and air were leeching the strength from him already. He dove under and grabbed onto Gabriel’s ankle, planted his feet and yanked it up, maneuvering it onto his shoulder then pushed up off the creek bottom. Standing up with a jaw clenching smile he saw a determined scowl on his friend’s face. The huge man was precariously balanced on one foot, reaching out to Addison with both hands that didn’t quite reach him. Addison gave him a taunting grin then pushed his leg up off his shoulder, toppling the giant backwards into the water. Addison didn’t wait to gloat, he dove away and scrambled towards the creek bank. He could make it. He didn’t make it. He was out of the water, but the creek bank rose three feet or so forcing him to climb. He felt his right ankle get locked in an unbreakable grip and a sharp yank dropped him to his chest and stomach, knocking the air out of him with an audible ‘OOOF’. Then, embarrassingly, Gabriel slowly dragged him across the dirt and grass like a dead carcass back into the water where he leapt on top of him from behind. “Pesky little rabbit.” Gabriel grunted into his ear. Something about the way he said it so rough and chastising only completed his possession and Addison found himself going limp as Gabriel stood up. The heat of that amazing body pressed against him from his shoulders down his back to his knees, Gabriel’s strong arms wrapped tightly around his chest, one leg pinning Addison’s shins…Addison felt all fight and desire to escape leave him. The ease with which this God held him, firm but not crushing, it was solid, secure, safe. Addison breathed out as he felt an overwhelming trust warm him. “Good rabbit.” Gabriel breathed, climbing out of the water still holding him in that incredible embrace, not even struggling for balance as he strode with casual steps of confident strength up the embankment. Once on dry ground, Gabriel flipped him around without effort and settled him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Stay, rabbit.” Gabriel’s deep voice mumbled, one arm securing Addison around his thighs. Addison let his cheek settle against the warm, muscle bound back. He should be cold, but he wasn’t. As Gabriel carried him back to the camp, Addison felt the large hands roaming up and down his legs and over his ass and it was so soothing, he was so relaxed, he let himself drift off. The early morning wake up, the jump, the graduation, clearing out the barracks, and the hike to the campsite loaded down with all their packs and gear then the battle in the creek finally hit him, and settling into Gabriel’s beautiful massive warm body did the rest. He woke up snuggled warmly inside the sleeping bag with Gabriel wrapped around him, a soft snore coming from the giant’s mouth pressed up against his neck. He had to take a piss, but Gabriel’s left arm and leg were on top of him, his right under Addison’s head wrapping around his neck and his huge hand resting on Addison’s chest. He gently moved Gabriel’s arms, trying not to wake him. “Settle, Rabbit.” Gabriel murmured, returning his arms to surround Addison. “Sorry, beautiful. I have to pee.” “Mmmm, I like when you call me beautiful, Rabbit.” The giant replied sleepily, smiling into Addison’s neck. Addison felt a flush of warmth go through him as the deep tones of Gabriel’s voice washed over him. He twisted around to turn on his side facing his beautiful man. Here, now, Addison thought of nothing except the magic of this moment. Gabriel pulled him closer, swallowing him with his big body. “I love you, Addison.” Gabriel’s eyes were half open, gazing with dreamy relaxation. His hand had moved to rest on Addison’s ass and it felt like that’s exactly where it belonged. Gabriel’s other arm pulled inwards to hug Addison closer until they were connected from head to toe. Addison let his head relax onto Gabriel’s, cheek to cheek. “I love you too, Gabriel.” It surprised him how easy those words came, unforced and feeling like a foundation so deep there was nothing else more important. Had he never felt real love before, he wondered? Whatever he thought he’d felt with the two girls he’d dated secretly until his parents found out, it wasn’t this. He’d never been so willing to risk everything, he didn’t even care about anything except the feeling of this beautiful, good man’s arms around him, listening to his voice, looking into his eyes. Gabriel’s hand came up to stroke his face, and he still marveled at how large it was, fully covering him from jaw to hair. Gabriel moved his head back to smile at him. He leaned in and kissed him. Addison was ready, pressing forward, but Gabriel pulled back after just a touch of the lips. “Go pee, Rabbit, then come back.” His voice rumbled. “Yes, boss.” Addison smiled. He extricated his naked body from Gabriel’s, and the giant refused to help, remaining limp so that Addison almost wanted to just give up and stay, his aching bladder be damned. He finally climbed out and immediately missed the warmth even though it wasn’t that cold outside the sleeping bag, probably just 38 degrees or so in the quiet early evening just before sundown. They must have slept for a few hours. He noticed Gabriel had cleaned up the remains of their meal and fed the fire, as well as collected their clothes from the trail to the creek. He must have been completely zonked out not to notice any of that, or Gabriel climbing into the bag with him. Even though he had to take a mean piss he took his time sauntering over to the edge of camp, taking a quick glance back to see if Gabriel was watching him. The big man had just the top of his head poked out of the bag, exposing only his unblinking light hazel eyes. Addison turned halfway and leaned his elbows against the tree beside him and let loose, keeping his eyes on Gabriel who was riveted to his performance. He posed himself with his weight on one leg, knowing it would flex his ass while he arched his back and leaned over to let his dick hang. Addison grinned and closed his eyes letting the relief of a good long piss relax him, knowing Gabriel was watching everything. When he was just about done he looked at Gabriel again, who had pulled his entire head out while he watched Addison’s dick dribble out the last drops. Gabriel glanced back up at Addison’s face, his lips slightly open, then looked back down again, so Addison took a moment to turn to face him and stretch in a big lazy yawn with his legs spread and all his muscles tight and stretched out. “Rabbit….” Gabriel said with a growl, a warning. Addison found himself chuckling. He didn’t know or care why Gabriel had settled on calling him Rabbit, but he found he liked it. “Coming, boss.” He replied with a smile. He made sure to return just like he’d gone, sauntering so that his big thighs flopped his dick and balls from left to right. As he climbed back into the bag, Gabriel grabbed him roughly to pull him down. “Andrew is right.” Gabriel growled. He pulled Gabriel’s arm back around him and nuzzled his way back into the crook of the big man’s other arm to lay his head on the comfortable bicep. “About what?” “You’re a show-off.” Addison smiled, taking the opportunity to enjoy the smell of Gabriel’s skin, his armpit just a couple inches from his nose. He nuzzled in deeper as Gabriel pulled him in. “This feels so good.” he gave the area where Gabriel’s shoulder and pec met a soft kiss. “Do you want to sleep some more, Rabbit?” “Mmmmmm, not really. Let’s just stay like this and talk.” He answered. Gabriel’s hand was rubbing up and down his back softly. He could feel the hard length of Gabriel’s cock pressing into him, which made him smile even more knowing how much Gabriel liked his little show. ‘We’ll see how long he can hold out.’ Addison thought to himself, deciding he’d push Gabriel to the limit of his no sex promise. He’d keep it, because it was important to Gabriel, but there was a lot of room to play without crossing that line. “Gabriel, if we weren’t in the Army, would you be okay with us being together?” He suddenly asked, letting his buried hand stroke the big muscles of Gabriel’s chest. Why had that question come out? “Yes.” The deep voice answered without a pause. “Even letting everyone know?” He asked, uncertain of the response. Gabriel’s arms tightened around him. “I would tell everyone you were my boyfriend, Addison. I want to tell them now, but we can’t.” “So we’re still boyfriends?” He asked, surprised. Gabriel sighed. “Boyfriends are in your heart, Rabbit. You’re in my heart, and I’m in yours.” The way he said it cracked a dam inside him that he hadn’t realized was there. The sincerity, the plain, unadorned raw honesty grabbed him inside and pulled at him until the simple words caused him hurt and joy simultaneously. It was that straightforward to Gabriel, the only requirement and it was so pure and innocent Addison repeated it softly as he breathed. “You’re in my heart.” “Shhhhhh, Rabbit. It’s okay. It’s not sad.” Gabriel murmured into his head, rubbing his back. “Don’t cry, Rabbit.” Addison sniffed, and wiped his nose with his free hand. “Not really crying, buddy, just wasn’t expecting that.” He answered gently. “You really are beautiful, Gabriel.” Addison didn’t cry, hadn’t shed a single tear that he could remember since he was five. His parents wouldn’t have it and besides, what did he have to cry about? Cry about his soft, pampered life? His every need being met while what he actually wanted was withheld? His frustration redirected into activities and lessons and duties until he fell asleep exhausted enough to never dream? Transferred in the care of nannies, tutors and bodyguards that shuttled him from place to place who no doubt had strict instructions to keep him at arms length just like his parents did? Cry about what? Some fictional concept of freedom and individuality that always felt foreign to him until he met the Bravos? Until he met Andrew who actually bothered to ASK him what he thought, what he liked, what he wanted and wouldn’t give up until he felt comfortable enough to actually vocalize the things he’d never been allowed to say. He now knew his parents had been fortunate to have such an agreeable child as him, who didn’t argue or fight or throw tantrums but instead quietly accepted that they had his best interests at heart. He wasn’t so sure of that when he got old enough to realize there was so much more out there in the world he’d never experienced. The stories of the Spanish explorers and conquistadors his parents insisted his tutors taught him called to him, enamored him and he fell in love with the adventure of their lives, their battles, their fierce nature and tough resilience. That was why he wanted to join the Army, why he’d filled out all the enlistment paperwork, took the ASVAB, and left his parents with no choice but to let him go. By the time they found out, there wasn’t anything legal they could do to stop him. He did feel a little bad for deceiving them. They weren’t bad people, and he did love them. He was mature enough to realize they were doing what they thought was best, that they were never mean or cruel, they praised him when he did well, often talked to him about how to resolve problems he was having. But they were distant and unavailable for most of his childhood, far too busy to be involved in his day to day activities. They had functions to attend, parties, meetings, businesses to run which required frequent travel. But when they were home, they did carve out a little time for their cherished only son. Addison wasn’t bitter about it, his basic decent nature felt grateful for the time he actually did get to spend with them. When they were all together his parents didn’t talk business or work, they talked with Addison about how things were with him. He felt a little guilty that he had only written them a few letters telling them what he was doing. He wasn’t avoiding them, exactly. It was because it felt like being in the Army was for HIM, his own personal experience, the first thing in his entire life that was entirely on him, for himself, and something he wanted. He could take four years for that, his family obligations could wait that long. His parents would have to understand. He felt a sudden unexpected panic as an uninvited thought intruded: two years left. That was all. Just two years to grab every experience he could. Two years to be someone different before returning to his boring life of every minute scheduled for him, every decision made for him, every step planned, appearances, dress, inoffensive small talk, schooling his face into the vapid, empty, neutral smile required. They chose his friends, and they would choose a selection of acceptable women that he could date, all of them beautiful no doubt, intelligent, from the best families. But first, University, probably Oxford or Cambridge, not for the education exactly, but so he could rub elbows with his peers in the nobility. His parents had high hopes. After reading extensively, Addison knew minor nobility like his family weren’t truly considered peers, as a cadet branch, but his mother felt one must not fall behind if one was to be taken seriously among the peerage. Addison felt that entire view of the European nobility was outdated and archaic. Among the young whom he’d met, the overwhelming feeling was that in order to maintain their position they couldn’t be seen as placing themselves above the citizens of their respective states. Image was everything. Princess Grace of Monaco, and Princess Diana of England were beloved by the people of many countries. Addison felt that there was a lesson there that his parents could learn. But even so, he wasn’t stupid. His father’s business connections, their financial success, depended upon being welcome in the highest circles and it was their name that ensured that more than their money and businesses. His parents had even dined in the White House with President Reagan. The titles of nobility in Spain are a mess. At different times in history noble titles were eliminated, then reconferred, inherited titles done away with, then re-established, new categories created as honorifics without blood relation to the King or any other noble family. Over two thousand Spanish nobles. But in essence, they were a cadet branch that traced their lineage back to the Viscount Jofre of Terragona. Addison’s cousin Reynaldo Maria de Patricio Ruiz Montelongo Escobar held the actual title, and he was ten years older than Addison. They’d met when Addison was 16 at a family wedding in Spain. Cousin Reynaldo wasn’t a first cousin, but was a very laid back guy who didn’t take himself too seriously, and actually told his parents that at family events titles and deference were absurd. “Just relax, cousins, and enjoy yourselves. We have to deal with that garbage too much in the world out there, we can relax here in private.” Addison was trained too well to show his shock, but Cousin Reynaldo was younger than his parents by 15 years, yet he spoke to them as if they were contemporaries, and dismissed any importance of their status with just a few kind words. That was the moment when he understood his parents took themselves far too seriously and the rigid nature of his upbringing was completely unnecessary. Cousin Reynaldo was refined and well mannered, yet he came across as a normal person. Not long after their return to the States he joined the wrestling team at his private school, much to his parents’ confusion. Of course they objected. “It’s coarse and beneath you, Addison. All that rolling around with sweaty men, like animals. You could get injured.” His mother explained. “What’s the point, Addison?” His father asked. “If you want to learn how to fight, we’ll get you a tutor, or you could train with Marco.” Indicating Addison’s bodyguard. Little did his father know he’d already been having Marco show him how to take care of himself. It said a lot for Marco’s dedication and loyalty that he hadn’t told Addison’s father about it. But of course, why would he? It wasn’t forbidden. Addison suspected Marco did not approve of how his parents raised Addison and so he sought to teach him as much about real world things to which his parents would never allow him to be exposed. Marco had been with them since Addison was 5, having been just 21 when he was first hired, Addison’s parents seeing the necessity of growing a bond between them. Now he’d be 36, and Addison knew he was helping his parents in other capacities. He suspected his parents were keeping Marco around for when Addison returned, even though he hadn’t said he’d return. He wrote Marco far more letters than he’d written his parents, writing him every week. Addison idolized the man, a larger than life figure who was both serious and humorous. Marco took his duties to heart, and recognized Addison needed a male figure he could be relaxed with, so in the unscheduled moments of his life Marco would invent games for them to play, quiz him on things he’d taught him, and let Addison be silly. He also knew Marco might also show the letters to his parents, but that was okay. He just wrote about what he was learning, doing, his achievements, the friends he’d met, and generally about the Army experience. As he’d been taught, his letters contained nothing intimate even if what he wrote was personal. He sighed. Only people of a higher class saw the distinction between intimate and personal revelations. Addison hated that. It was one of the reasons he loved the Bravos so much. They were so free with their intimate feelings as if there was no harm in exposing yourself to people you trusted. It was his last remaining wall within himself, and he felt guilty that he hadn’t told his brothers who he was. He just couldn’t take the chance that they’d change, that they’d see and treat him differently. He loved being considered just another soldier who they could insult, yell at, joke around with. He felt like he belonged when they did that. And most of all, he felt guilty about Gabriel. He had never intended for things to go this far. How would Gabriel take the news that he couldn’t find a way out, his family would never allow him to escape and that he couldn’t bring himself to leave them behind. He was wracking his brain to find a way for he and Gabriel to stay together, as impossible as he knew it was. But even if they both left the Army, he knew Gabriel would have a problem with his eventual marriage. He could easily hire Gabriel as a body guard, have Marco teach him how it was done in Society. Andrew would understand the difficult position Addison was in, but Gabriel wouldn’t. Even Addison’s parents might reluctantly accept a relationship between he and Gabriel, enduring the necessity of keeping Addison happy so that he could marry and have kids and be the dutiful son to all outward appearances. And that was the true issue - maintaining appearances. As long as that was accomplished, just about anything could be tolerated. But Gabriel would never allow himself to have a relationship with a married man. The very idea had WRONG written all over it. Gabriel was very clear about how he felt about wrong. A low purr rumbled through Gabriel’s chest, pulling him back to the present. He snuggled in deeper choosing to focus on the comforting feel of Gabriel’s huge body rather than depressing thoughts of his trapped existence. ********************************** “Sir.” Major Collins answered the phone. “Mark, why do I have a Mr. and Mrs. Montelongo tormenting my staff?” The General’s voice didn’t sound angry, and actually sounded amused. “I have no idea, George.” Collins sighed. “Maybe asking for special treatment for their son?” “I’ve put them off, but that fuse is almost burnt. Is he one of the kids in your test program?” “Yes, Sir. Private Addison Montelongo in one of the Platoons we have scheduled for RIP in a couple weeks. “I’m actually impressed. How they figured out which command their son was under is beyond me, no one is supposed to know the participants. You think the kid told his parents?” General Middleton asked. “Not possible, the soldiers don’t know anything about why they’re in the program. That would defeat the purpose of the study. I suspect the parents have other resources.” He answered. “Mmmmmm”. The General mused. “I’ll figure it out, but something tells me I won’t have to. They are persistent, and if I know their type they will be frustrated enough soon to overplay their hand. Do you have the file on Montelongo?” “In my office. Major Baker knows where the participants’ files are. I’ll call her when I get off the phone with you and tell her to bring it over. You want anyone else’s or just Montelongo’s?” “Send over Brickmann’s file too, he made some sort of impression on the team in Germany. What’s your opinion?” Collins knew George was asking for the unofficial information he’d never put on actual paper, things outside the weekly report he gave the General personally. “Solid soldier, keeps it professional, shows unusual concern for his men which might be a problem in combat. In some sort of relationship with an MIT engineering student, which is unclear. Kevin Copeland. There was some kind of love triangle between the two and a girl in high school, again unclear but almost certainly sexual. Both Kevin and Carol attended the funeral of Private Brickmann’s father a few weeks ago, so the relationship may be ongoing. The Copeland boy keeps to himself at MIT, no social life to speak of, but the girl has been quite active socially and sexually at USC.” “Security risks?” “I’m confident there’s no security risk. Brickmann knows how to stay in his lane. And we’re listening when possible. Copeland and the girl aren’t idiots either. There’s signs that Brickmann’s mother and brother know about the relationship with Copeland and the girl, so any kind of blackmail scenario seems unlikely. And once Brickmann knows that WE know all about him, he can’t be compromised in that way either. Except for suspected homosexuality, he’s squeaky clean, and eats, breathes, and sleeps Army.” “Hmmmmm. After I look at his file, I might want to talk more about Harris. From what the team in Germany reported, we don’t see a soldier like this too often.” Collins grinned. “I’d have to agree. If you met him in person, you’d see it. There’s definitely something there. I hope you’d let him have his time in Regiment if he gets through the Ranger course, so he could establish his unofficial credentials with the Rangers before moving him anywhere else. You know how it is with that sort. Interestingly, he, Montelongo and Gunnerson put in for a Ranger re-class just before we sent them to Airborne.” “I remember, Mark. Rangers hold themselves to a higher standard.” The General laughed. “Almost as bad as getting jumped in with a street gang. Of course, that was back in my day. Never been so glad to get my ass kicked. But today’s Ranger no doubt has other hazing to endure to be accepted. Anyone else you think merits special notice? If this program succeeds, we’ll need people out front. Best to recognize potentials now.” Collins did have a few standouts in mind. “I’ll put together an overview by tomorrow and have Baker get the files to you with the others. I do have to say, George, that this group is pretty fascinating. It’s beyond the scope of this program, but we might want to look into selective unit composition. We chose each of these groups from soldiers their previous units considered as outliers, those who didn’t exactly blend for some reason, homosexuality wasn’t the only selection criteria. But put a group of them together and they seem to understand each other in a way that doesn’t happen in regular units. It might be worth examining the dynamic as a separate program after we get done with this one. Some of it is leadership, their platoons trust Brickmann and Lamont.” General Middleton chuckled again. “We’ll see. The pile of your suggested programs and studies keeps growing. I’m actually glad to see you get a little hands on in the field on this one.” “Well thanks for approving it, George. After the report for the Armed Services Committee on Iraq, doing something that might promote some good in the Armed Forces is a pleasure. That was nasty business.” “But necessary. War always opens the door for soldiers to get creative on earning extra income. It happens every time, but we can’t be lax about it or ignore it, especially the big stuff like armament and military equipment. Just be glad that was your task instead of what Major Baker had to do with the looters. That involved breaking down American doors on American soil on top of prosecuting service men and women, some with rank. I did not enjoy that. Are you planning on staying through the Ranger phase?” Collins had given it quite a bit of thought and really couldn’t come up with a reason for his presence. The Ranger course was its own little world and the RI’s knew what they were doing, and there could be no distractions or interference if their evaluations were to be accurate. He’d be a distraction. “No. I’ve got work to do back in Washington. I’m here until they are turned over to RIP, then we’ve got their Sergeants Walters and Horvath on standby for them during the course. They were read in after their phase was complete so we could use them for this phase. If Horvath and Walters did their job well enough in Germany, RIP shouldn’t be impossible for them, but the RI’s are going to be a bit angry that their normal 14% pass rate won’t be accurate for this class. Plus, I’ve got something special in store for them between now and RIP, so I’ll be out of contact for a couple weeks.” “You’re going to cheat, aren’t you?” The General said. “Aw, George, you wound me. It’s not cheating. They will qualify, and succeed on their own abilities. But the point is to have them in Regiment. It wouldn’t be a very good study program if all our participants failed out, would it? I’m just making sure they have the knowledge and skills not to fail.” “Yep, cheating.” “Besides, this gives me a chance to have them evaluated outside of the military structure and command. These guys are very close knit. I want to see what they do without rules. I might have a few more files for your special attention at the end of it. Depends on their performance.” he explained to his friend. General George Middleton had become a friend more than a superior long ago. “Well, just put it in the report, and I’ll see you in two weeks, Mark.” “Yes, Sir.” He heard the General chuckle just before he hung up. ‘Sir’. ********************************* His prediction came true the very next day. “I’ve told them you are unavailable without an appointment, sir.” He carefully stacked the files in full view, making sure that Private Montelongo’s file was on top. “No, Lieutenant, they’ve succeeded in getting my attention. Anyone who can get as far as my outside door isn’t your ordinary visitor. May as well show them in. Oh, and find some Black Tea and brew a pot. Ask Candler, he’s a tea nut, he’ll have some. In 15 minutes bring it in. A tray would be nice, Mrs. Montelongo would like that touch. Any chance you have any service experience?” The Lieutenant shook his head. “Hmmmm, just ask Candler, he’s probably got all the materials, and might even like putting on a show.” “Yes, Sir.” Ten minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Montelongo were shown through his door. He stood to greet them. He wasn’t exactly sure who their sponsor was, but he did know you didn’t walk the halls of the Pentagon without some very high placed friends. He felt standing in respect would start whatever this meeting was on the right note. “Mr. Montelongo, Mrs. Montelongo, it’s a pleasure. I hope I’ve pronounced it correctly.” He said with a smile. He had to admit, this was a nice diversion from the usual phone calls with staff, the joint chiefs, Senators or senior Pentagon officials. And he did find their determination amusing, so he was in a very gracious, pleasant mood. Upon first impression, Mrs. Montelongo was stunning, a real beauty with night black hair, exceptionally pale skin, and brown eyes so light they almost appeared golden. Her prominent and defined cheekbones accentuated delicate skin, full red lips he was sure didn’t have lipstick present, and a remarkably straight nose. He knew from his research she was 45 years old, yet she could easily pass for her mid 20’s, if it wasn’t for the fierce steel in her gaze. She wore a tight fitted black dress that hugged her athletic and slightly voluptuous body, black sheer hose and shiny black pumps. She had refused to clip her visitor’s badge to her dress, he noticed and instead chose to clip it to her clutch bag that she held at her abdomen. Mr. Montelongo was likewise exceptionally handsome and fit, though he showed his age of 48 by the hint of grey at his temples that had just begun to intrude upon his thick, dark hair. General Middleton felt a twinge of envy. His own hair had started greying prematurely when he was only 35, and had gone fully silver by the time he was 48, and now it had changed again in the years since to a brilliant white. But at least he still had a full head of hair. “Please, sit. What is it that I can do for you?” Mrs. Montelongo smiled, a genuine smile he couldn’t help being affected by. “You’ve pronounced it perfectly, General. However did you get it correct? The slight pause between the first and second syllable, the slide of the third without overstressing. You must have spent time in Spain.” In fact, he’d called a friend at the Spanish Embassy for information about the Montelongo’s, and he’d been coached on the pronunciation. He’d been correct in his guess: they were very well connected. “I admit I cheated. I called the Embassy for coaching.” He faked a wince and shrugged. He hoped it would play. Mrs. Montelongo laughed, a musical and delightful sound. Her husband held out his hand to her which she took as she sat gracefully in the overstuffed chair across from his desk, on the edge of the seat as was proper, her ankles crossed, her back at a rigid 90 degrees that would put to shame any troops at attention on a parade march. Mr. Montelongo released when she was in position, then sat himself, fully reclining to rest against the back of the chair, and surprisingly crossing his ankle over his knee in a relaxed position. Somewhat a study of opposites. She smiled. “Oh, it IS nice to make matters easier with just a phone call, I agree. Your friend seems very knowledgeable. I’m sure we know him. Possibly the Ambassador’s secretary Francisco? Jaime de Ojeda y Eiseley has the most proficient staff.” General Middleton smiled. Yes, he liked her, and her games. “And now you surprise me in return, Madam. You are correct. Francisco has become a personal friend, our sons work in the same law firm.” “You must be very proud.” She remarked. He was just about to respond when there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, Candler entered carrying a tray. Perfect timing. “I took the liberty of having tea brought. Black Tea, I believe?” He raised his eyebrows with the question, along with a slight but pleasant smile. Her face was radiant. “Oh, yes, we’ll get along fine, General. Does your man pour?” “He does.” Candler was playing his own game, and MIddleton wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. Instead of his uniform, Candler had changed into a black suit, black tie, white shirt, every inch the trusted servant rather than a Brigadier General of the U.S. Army. His lieutenant must have explained the situation to Candler, thank God. Another on the long list of reasons he had the lieutenant on his staff. Anticipate your superiors. “Cream, no sugar.” She said. General Middleton had expected it to come out as an order, but instead it was downright pleasant and not arrogant at all. “Yes, Madam.” Candler said in his most subservient and serious voice. “Would Sir care for tea?” Mr. Montelongo grinned. “Sir would love a Bourbon. If you’ve got it.” “I can do that.” Middleton replied, turning behind him to his credenza and opening the bottom drawer. He pulled out two Waterford tumblers and the decanter he stored there. The set was a promotion gift when he’d received his third star, from the very same Francisco whose ears were probably burning at this very moment. A gift not too extravagant, which wasn’t allowed between a foreign national and a General at the Pentagon. “It’s Jack Daniels, if that’s okay.” “A bad bourbon doesn’t exist, General.” Mr. Montelongo replied. He poured two fingers in each tumbler, then stood to deliver Mr. Montelongo’s to him personally. If there were actual stakes to this meeting, he might have entertained the power play of setting the glass on the edge of his desk so that Montelongo would have to retrieve it. But there was no point to petty games like that in this situation, and the General firmly believed you could catch more flies with honey. By this time Candler had delivered the teacup and saucer to Mrs. Montelongo. “I certainly didn’t expect Wedgewood in the Pentagon, General. Your tea set is beautiful.” “Oh, it’s not mine, Mrs. Montelongo.” General Middleton replied. She smiled. “I know. It’s his. My compliments General Candler, it’s a fine set, and you make a lovely pot. I do appreciate the service, though it wasn’t necessary. I do hope Francisco didn’t make me out to be some kind of monster if you saw the need for this performance.” Out played. Well, Francisco hadn’t been exaggerating. Mr. Montelongo was sipping on his bourbon with a pleased smile. “I don’t blame you, General, but you’ll find it damn near impossible to out maneuver my wife.” He raised his glass in a salute. “Damn good try, though, fun to watch.” “No, Francisco told me your preferences, to be sure.” Middleton explained. “But he warned me against being anything but direct. I thought he was exaggerating. Turns out he gave me sound advice.” Her laugh, once again, was a thing of beauty. “I think that all went very well, and I hope I surprised you as much as you surprised me, General.” He had to admit, she had. “It’s not often I’m not the one in control in my own office, Madam. I offer my surrender.” “Accepted, of course. With one condition.” Here it comes, he thought. Get me off balance, then go for the kill. He had to admire her skillful manipulation. Still, he was no pushover. “Which is?” He prompted. “You pour a little of that bourbon in this lovely teacup. I love Black Tea, but a touch of bourbon fortifies the spirit.” Middleton found himself laughing in spite of himself. She glanced over at General Candler and winked. “Don’t be so dour, you must try it yourself before you judge.” She turned once again to look at him. “I know you’re a busy man, so we won’t waste your time, and we have a luncheon with the Ambassador in an hour. The presence of my son’s file between us, on a stack of similar files, tells me you already know why we’re here.” Middleton had gone over to pour a splash of bourbon in her tea. “I admit I don’t. I know it must be about your son, but nothing specific. I decided to familiarize myself with his record when it became apparent you wouldn’t give up trying to get ahold of me. Candler, the Lady recommended you give it a try. It would be rude to refuse.” He said to his junior. Candler poured himself a cup, using the one he expected to serve to Mr. Montelongo and held it out. “That’s the spirit.” Mrs. Montelongo nodded. “I appreciate your being prepared. We’d like you to give him a hardship discharge. We understand he’s involved in some special training program that no one will talk about, but as our only child we can’t risk endangering his life.” “And how does your son feel about this?” He’d tried to get ahold of the Private, but he was off post on a pass and no one knew where he was. Even if they did, Middleton wouldn’t cancel his pass just to get some answers about why his parents were making a nuisance of themselves. “He’ll resist. He did this on his own, without our approval.” She said. The term ‘without our approval’ said volumes about what kind of family this was, in spite of Mrs. Montelongo’s charm and beauty. “I assure you, he’s in no danger. The program he’s in is still in the training phase. The real world phase is next, of course, but considerations can be made to keep him in country.” “Every week he’s in your military is a week he’s not learning what he needs to be a part of this family, General.” “I understand your position, and his value, Mrs. Montelongo. Have you considered that what he’s learning in the military has its own value, something he can’t learn anywhere else? Your son is very capable, I’ve read his file, and I’ve no doubt you have your own informants keeping tabs on him, so you know he’s doing well. He only has a four year enlistment. What’s wrong with letting him ride it out? He seems to want to, he’s made no reports to his superiors that he’s unhappy. If I may say so, he’s cut from the same cloth as you. He’s been very careful not to excel, staying solidly at the top of the middle, when I think we both know he could do so much better. I think he’s enjoying himself. His careful positioning tells me he’s got a sharp mind, and the ability to keep himself exactly where he wants to be. All-State Wrestling Champ in his weight class? A 4.2 GPA in his academics, with honors in Physics, Calculus, History and Literature. A 1596 on his SAT, almost acing both math and language. I suspect he did that on purpose, failing to achieve a perfect score. Your son is smart enough to know what he’s doing, I think. I’ll be direct, as Francisco suggested: I think your son needed a break, needed to take some time to find out who he was, who he wanted to be. He’s trying incredibly hard to be absolutely normal, to raise no flags, he tells no one who he is, did you know that? Not one of his closest friends know his father owns and runs a multi-billion dollar international company, shakes hands with royalty, has dinner with the President and is the 375th wealthiest person in the world. They probably don’t know about your family at all. I don’t know many young men who wouldn’t brag about that or try to get special treatment. Yet, your son doesn’t. It says quite a bit about who he is. I think you’ll find he’s far more cooperative with your future plans if you let him have this time. He’s got two years left. The more your interfere, the more he’ll resent you. Take it from a father who made that mistake. My son and I eventually repaired our relationship, but it wasn’t easy. I think Addison will get whatever he’s looking for in his time with us, even if it’s just having the experience of being a normal kid, if you let him, and he’ll return to you with a new focus.” He hadn’t intended to give parental advice, it just came out. The usual hard line wasn’t going to work with them he intuited. While he could probably kick the kid out of the study program easily enough, Collins would be irritated, saying it compromised the results. Collins needed this study to be without wrinkles in order to make clear recommendations. He’d custom built this program after visits to the militaries of several allied countries to study the interaction between homosexual troops and their comrades. But only Americans knew the peculiar opinions of puritanical Americans. He wouldn’t change a single thing about the study program without talking to Major Collins first, and he was out of contact for two weeks. “We know our son, General. He didn’t do this to spite us. He has some romantic notion of being a soldier, with all the tough, gritty brutality it involves. He has no idea what true war is. He’s playing a pretend game, knowing there are no actual consequences for his failure.” She sighed. “We’ve spoiled him, it’s true, but he’s a good boy. And every year he’s playing pretend he isn’t getting the education he needs to take his place in the business. Release him from your program so that his discharge can happen. We’ve already arranged it.” She looked at her husband. Mr. Montelongo finally leaned forward. “Senator Graham’s office will have the paperwork on your desk this afternoon. We appreciate your doing this for us.” It was clear the Montelongo’s were accustomed to getting their way, being in control, and navigating the political hallways of Washington, D.C. He was going to have to choose his options very carefully. People like them had backup plans and alternate strategies waiting in case their initial request was denied. He was going to have to figure out just how important this kid was to the study program. One thing was certain, the Montelongo’s absolutely could not find out the nature of the study program. He had a feeling the hell they could unleash would make actual wartime combat feel like a fun day in the park. What a fucking mess.

thanks man! I appreciate that.

You know the Kevin and Tom parts are beyond everything normal. Those two are truly animals for each other. I don’t know why, just that it’s where they find the the most primordial version of their bond. They are abandon and chaos. And amazing.

Battle Buddies - Chapter 16 ASSMUNCH I waited with the other Bravos and the randoms for Lenger and the Sgt. Airborne to walk our floor. We all had our rucks, our backpacks, and our duffles crammed with everything. Most of us didn’t bother sorting and organizing the stuff before we did. It didn’t matter, we could re-pack them later. Our ruck was always packed out anyway. Sometimes you didn’t get a lot of notice ahead of time to move out so our ruck was ready for mission as a matter of habit. It was just our casual stuff we had to get shoved away. Our lockers were empty, the doors open. After Sgt. Airborne inspected Lenger would go behind him and close the door. He actually made Lenger get on hands and knees in the center of the bay so he could stand on his back to look around for anything that might have been forgotten on top of the metal lockers. Sgt. Airborne wasn’t going to find anything, not in the bay, not in our lockers (or on them), not in the hall, the day room, the latrines, the showers, our instruction room, or outside perimeter of the building. Speaking of the perimeter, that’s where Kevin and Tim waited for me, on the benches. It sucked that they couldn’t watch this part of the process, I think they’d both find it interesting. But at least they got to watch the next class of Airborne do their small tower jumps across the street. That’s where I sent them when I had Sleeper give Hunter Wicomb a warning. Just before we were dismissed, we lined up in front of Sgt. Airborne’s desk so he could tell us where we were supposed to be. The randoms were released back to their units, or told where to report for holdover, and the Bravos were handled last. We were told we had a four day special pass, but to report back in front of Command at 0500 Wednesday. The difference between special pass and leave was the difference between a ditch and a canyon in terms of freedom. With Leave, you could go anywhere, get on a plane even. A Special pass meant you were subject to recall at any time, and you had to stay within a certain radius of your post depending on the length of the pass. A commander could cancel your Special Pass whenever he wanted, for any reason. Leave, once approved, wasn’t so easily withdrawn, it was a right, not a privilege. And most Commanders were highly reluctant to pull a soldier off leave, plus they had to have a VERY good reason. Bootlicker tried to get my attention alone while we were doing clear out, but there was just too much going on, too many things to do, and I felt like I had to be in ten places at once plus Kevin and Tim were with me most of the time. Everyone wanted to be released so no one was slacking off, not even the randoms. Bootlicker didn’t seem too worked up about whatever it was, so I knew it wasn’t urgent. I’d talk to him when we got back from our pass. “We’re going to have to jog to the Exchange. It’s not far.” I told Kevin and Tim when I got outside. “I’m actually hungry, especially since I get to eat different food than Dining Facility stuff or MRE’s.” “Is it really that bad?” Kevin asked. The wind was gusting just a bit and his hair was flipping back off his shoulders. “Depends on what you think is bad. Sometimes you’re so hungry it tastes like the best thing you ever ate. Then two days later you’ll try it again and it tastes blah. The Dining Facility has to feed hundreds of troops at once, so everything is made in huge portions. I’ve never had a vegetable that tastes like anything except mush. There’s some meats that are decent. The meatloaf is usually good, especially with the gravy. Breakfast is probably the best. SOS is my favorite. But you gotta watch it. It’s not fun puking it back up if your Sarge decides your Platoon is goin on a ruck march.” I explained. Kevin’s eyes looked sympathetic and horrified all at once. “Our dining facilities have really good food.” He said, talking about MIT. I laughed. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. Spoiled little princes and princesses.” He shot me a look that promised future retribution for that comment. I said a prayer of thanks. Bring it on, Kev. “So, the trick is we aren’t actually running, we’re just jogging. It’s cool enough outside that it’ll keep us warm without sweating.” I knew both Kevin and Tim were in excellent shape, and a twenty minute run wasn’t going to kill them. We were going to be a little late, but not too late. While we double timed… sorry…jogged — Older soldiers figured out eventually how to double speak and that you only used military terminology in the military setting. Unless you were telling a story to your friends, you used common civilian terms where you could. Like, with other soldiers I’d say gunship, or AH, or AH-64. But with civilians I’d say Apache Helicopter. Guys that threw out terminology and acronyms left and right were either trying too hard to sell their military experience to people who didn’t know any better or sound more important than they actually were. But to another soldier or sailor it sounded pretentious and idiotic if you weren’t talking to one of your own. It worked the other way around too, in case you were wondering. If you said ‘so I took my gun’ to other military, they’d just stop you right there and ask ‘which one’, or instantly assume you didn’t know shit about shit. You had rifles, and you had pistols, and you had military issued weapons, and personal weapons. You had long range, short range. And the weapon you preferred or used sometimes said more about you that only another soldier would understand, like what kind of unit you were in, what you did in that unit, and more. A civilian wouldn’t know what ‘so I took my M16’ meant, or the other information that phrase imparted, but another soldier would know immediately, you were probably on watch, patrol, battle drill, or taking a position and they’d definitely know you were on duty, on mission or training. You didn’t always carry, but Infantry carried more often than anyone. Other MOS’s would only carry rifles on high alert, and side arms if they were deployed at a forward operating base. In the military, you learned to call things what they were, or refer to them with specific terms (either nicknames, jargon, or abbreviations). Your kit was one thing, your gear vs. equipment was other stuff, your pack versus your ruck, uniform, etc. With Kevin and Tim, I didn’t have to modify a whole bunch, they grew up in a military town. But right now, I was on pass, with civilians, so I was ‘jogging’. I needed to be better about switching between the two ways of talking. I started off leading the pace with Tim on my right and Kevin on my left, trying to keep us to an easy jog, but soon Tim had other ideas. Ah, the exuberance of youth. “C’mon! Let’s race!” he cried out surging ahead. Kevin smirked at me and leapt forward. In dress shoes and slacks, but damn I could see the flex and expansion of his muscles as he ran and he looked amazing. He really had the most fantastic legs and ass. Kevin didn’t have a Sleeper level ass, it was wider and beefier, probably closer to Chunk’s ass. It looked sturdy and substantial, and hard as a rock. Just a fucking solid mass of brute muscle. I was going to bury my face in there later and have a fucking feast. I think I was going to have it sunny side up, with Kevin laying on his stomach. Fuck yeah. Kevin wasn’t going to let Tim have the lead. I shrugged and let them be stupid because I knew they had no idea where they were going and they’d have to wait for me anyway. Maybe Kevin wouldn’t even break a sweat, but neither of them was loaded down like I was. I sure as hell wasn’t going to get into a race with either of them when I was encumbered. When I caught up I threw my duffle to Kevin and my pack to Tim, keeping my ruck on my back. That should even things out a bit. Kevin looked at my duffle, hefted it to gauge the weight, then pushed it out to Tim and took the smaller backpack from my brother’s hand. “Hey, that’s not fair, you’re bigger. You should have the duffle.” Tim complained. “Get used to the weight, brat.” Kevin said, shouldering the smaller pack. “You want to train, run with as much as you can bear.” I did the exchange without stopping. “Go ahead and race now. You’ll learn.” I said. Tim had to adjust his stride to accommodate the bounce of the duffle, which was now on his back, his arms through the straps. Duffles aren’t exactly made to be carried on your back because the handles didn’t tighten, so Tim had to hold the straps while he tried to run so it wouldn’t bounce and slide down below his ass. The key to carrying anything on your back was to keep it high and not let it get below your waist. “How do you run with this shit?” Tim said. “Fuck me.” I laughed. “We aren’t even going that far or that fast. Toughen up, little bro.” It was evil, I admit. Even trained soldiers didn’t run with duffles on their back, and even if we did I’d pack it different so the weight was distributed in a certain way to make it easier. My ruck was always packed in a very specific order, the heavier stuff down low near my center of gravity where the back support and kidney straps would stabilize it and keep it from bouncing all over the place or making it difficult to maintain an even stride. My pack and my duffle, I’d thrown stuff in so it had no balance or distribution to the weight. That oughta keep both of them from getting us all sweaty. That was payback for neither of them offering to carry anything to begin with. I did feel lighter, but it wasn’t because I’d given Kevin and Tim stuff to carry. It was because of my Wings. That feeling would probably wear off eventually, but every time you pinned or sewed something new on your uniform you felt a certain energy from it. A new rank, an award, a patch, a tab…you felt good. It earned you just a little tiny bit more respect. The word ‘respect’ didn’t get paired with the word ‘Private’ very often so I’d enjoy this feeling for the short time it flowed through me. I still hadn’t gotten over the intense rush of parachuting from a plane and man did I want to do it again. I hoped my application for Ranger Class went through, and not just for the opportunity to Jump again, but for the fifty other skills I’d learn. And to be around other guys who were just as hungry to be masters of warfare. Damn, I can’t tell you how good it felt to have my little brother and Kevin with me right now. Just us men and I couldn’t have chosen two better companions. It seems stupid when we were only jogging to the PX to meet my mom, but something about this moment would stay with me for years to come as one of my favorite memories. My life felt balanced and in harmony, I was me, they were them but together we had something important with each other. As a soldier you always lived in one world or the other, rarely both at once. You shucked off your uniform to force yourself into civilian mode for a few hours, or put your uniform on and dismissed the casual nature of civilian life for duty. Having your family participate in something military with you was a blend of the best of both worlds and it had its own magical energy that always felt like everything was finally right. I wondered for a brief moment if the opposite was true: could you find that feeling with your brothers doing something civilian? I’d love to just go camping in the wild with the Bravos one day and find out. They were a great bunch of guys personally and professionally, and at the very least we’d have a fucking blast together. We could fight and make up, laugh, be serious, decide our own adventure. I really should have been careful what I wished for. After eating at the cafeteria with Mom, we headed to the hotel, which was a good distance from Benning. Of course, the town wasn’t that big so we’re only talking a few miles. Mom wasn’t stupid, she made sure we weren’t anywhere near the area of town where the weekend partying would take place which was always lively late into Friday and Saturday nights when soldiers took it off post. The partying wasn’t restricted to bars and often extended well into the early morning hours at hotels and motels making life miserable for anyone else staying there. It made me think Mom and Dad had more than a few experiences when they were young, and that made me smile. She knew how young soldiers behaved. My mom was really the best mom. Kevin and I were sharing a room with Tim, Mom had her own next door so we got the rental car emptied of the drinks and snacks she’d bought as well as the luggage. They hadn’t brought much, it was only going to be for a couple days. My stuff took up the bulk of what we had to transport. “I need to get out of these clothes.” Kevin said. I liked that he made an effort to look good with his slacks and dress shirt, but I knew he had to be hating it. Kevin hated anything tight. I suspected he wore the super tight slacks and body hugging shirt just for me, and I appreciated the display he put on for my benefit. Running track and training developed his thickness into a solid dense body that felt like it was just on the verge of action. You could feel and see the potential in his muscles. In high school he was an inch or so shorter than me, but he always had me in the size department. Since then he’d grown upwards to just shy of six feet so his mass was distributed so much more proportionately. I fucking loved it. Still the same thick legs and round ass but they tapered together more. Amazing calves too that I might just barely be able to wrap my hands around. When he stripped down I stared in appreciation at the skimpy briefs he wore. Kevin liked wearing boxers because ‘I gotta be able to move’. So he’d switched it up, and I had to believe he did that for me as well. A sexy line of dark pubic hair tufted over the waistband of the briefs in front, and the top of the crack of his ample ass rose from the back. The pouch in front did an excellent job of accentuating his meaty bulge but I could see the outline of his shaft pointed down and over his big nuts. He must have seen me checking him out. “You like them?” He asked, pulling gently on the sides of the waistband to reposition and pose with a smirk he somehow made look innocent. Oh fuck him. “Oh hell yeah.” I said instead. Of course Tim was over on the other bed watching too, but Kevin never got embarrassed about anything. And we both knew Tim liked to look at Kevin too. Hell, I don’t think there’d be many people, men or women, who wouldn’t like to look at that. “Good.” Kevin continued smirking, then turned away to bend over at the waist and dig through his bag. Fuck, now he was just being a tease, sticking his ass out at me like that, legs shoulder width apart, his meaty ass stretched the fabric enough that I could see the crack of his ass right through them, the baseball sized pouch that contained his cock and balls hanging between. My dick was half hard before THAT, and now it sprung to a solid steel gun barrel. I hope he let me fuck him once during this trip. Once was all I wanted. Just because he was teasing me with it didn’t meant he’d give it to me, I knew. That was the mind-fuck part of the game. Carol had taught him well. I’d get whatever he decided I could have and fuck if that didn’t drive me near to shooting in my underwear. “You better hold that.” He said, still bent over. I still didn’t know how Carol and now Kevin knew I was on the verge of shooting, he wasn’t even looking at me. Fucking sadists, the both of them. “Would you guys just kiss already.” Tim said. “I know you want to, don’t hold back because of me.” Kevin stood up and looked back at me over his shoulder. Another pose, another tease. Damn, his back was wide. I saw his eyebrow raise, and I knew immediately what he was thinking. “Excellent idea, Tim.” I said, and got up. Once I was on my feet, Kevin and I moved together towards Tim and pinned him back on the mattress. Then we both smothered him with kisses all over his head and neck while he did the absolute least he could to fight us off but still make it look like he was resisting. “Not me! You guys!” He argued. I planted one last kiss right on his forehead. “Thanks for coming to my graduation, Tim.” I said with a smile, looking straight into his eyes. He was a good little brother. That made him smile. Kevin had climbed on to straddle Tim to hold him down, but he didn’t move when he grabbed me by the chin and pulled me up to him. “Hey…” I said. “Hey yourself, handsome.” Kevin replied, hitting me with those soft flannel eyes. I was gone. Lost in the Kiss, again. “I wish I could kiss someone like that.” Tim said, finally breaking the spell Kevin had put on me. Tim was still laying there pinned by Kevin’s ass, relaxed and dreamy eyed. Kevin smirked. “One day, brat. Some girl will rock your world and you won’t know what hit you.” He told Tim. “Let me up, I’m going to take a shower.” Kevin gave a chuckle. He reached behind his back and grabbed Tim by the crotch. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He said, climbing off. “Don’t whack it so hard you pull the skin off, pervert.” “You’re too old to remember what it’s like, asshole.” Tim said. “I get hard at everything. I’m not a pervert.” “That’s gonna cost you, brat.” Kevin said roughly and he flipped Tim over masterfully and yanked his pants and underwear down while putting his knee across Tim’s shoulders. “Tom! Don’t let him do it!” Tim squealed, squirming. “Me? I can’t save you.” I said, laughing. “He could take both of us. Besides, you called him old, you deserve it.” Kevin licked his hand and planted a solid whack to Tim’s bare asscheeks. “Agggghhh! He called me a pervert!” Tim squealed. “Guess one wasn’t enough, he doesn’t sound sorry.” Kevin said calmly and gave my little brother another whack. “Okay! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I called you old!” Tim begged. Kevin eased up on his knee. “Good. Don’t let it happen again.” Kevin didn’t know Tim like I knew Tim. Something else was going to come out of his mouth. I heard it coming a mile away. It was in the way he left his insincere apology hanging unfinished. “Asshole.” Tim breathed, not loud, but not quiet enough to escape notice either. WHACK! Kevin didn’t hold back this time. He took it easy the first two swats, going for shock more than effect. But this time…Hell I knew how hard he could smack your ass when he put some effort into it. And the smirk he threw me when he did it told me he knew what was going through my mind. His look promised I’d get equal treatment at the moment of his choosing. Fuck my cock was dripping now. “Ow! Ow! You ass—“ Tim stopped himself. Now he was sorry. Properly. “You … person!” He finished. I guess that was the only thing he could think of to finish what he started to say in a way that wasn’t going to get him another swat. Kevin dismounted then gave Tim a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry if I hurt you, little bro. You okay?” Kevin knew he couldn’t hurt ME, but Tim was an unknown. Tim chuckled, and I knew he was okay. “Yeah, I’m not a baby.” Tim stood up and Kevin and I noticed his boner hadn’t gone down at all and was sticking out nice and proud with a slight curve to its length. He gave us both an evil look as he took a step toward the bathroom. “You hit like a girl anyway.” And he took off. Kevin almost caught him but got the door slammed in his face and we could hear Tim’s laughter echoing. “SUCKER!” Fucking little brothers. Such a little shit. “I’m going to teach him a lesson when he gets out.” Kevin growled. It was my turn to give Kevin a smirk. “Good luck, I’ve tried.” My boyfriend’s grey eyes turned stormy as they looked at me. “Looks like I’m going to have to take it out on you.” Oh fuck yeah I thought as my dick jumped. “Strip.” He ordered me, sauntering over to the chair in the corner of the room. He sat down slowly, spreading his legs and slouching down. He leaned his head on his fist and started groping his dick through his briefs with his other hand. “What if Tim comes out?” I said, starting to remove my uniform. “First, you better do what I told you to do.” The threat was clear, and thrilling. He paused for a couple seconds to underline his seriousness. “Second, so what? It won’t be the first time he’s seen us fuck. Third, he’s in there beating his meat, probably thinking of us fucking anyway. Fourth, it’s been years since he could take a long hot shower. I remember what it was like at your house. Five minute max. He’s sixteen, he’s going to enjoy that shower until the water goes cold and he’ll probably jack off enough times to clog the drain. We have plenty of time. Fifth, why aren’t you naked and crawling over here already? You’re going to get double for making me wait.” He growled. Damn, he knew just how to get me torqued up. The voice he used to make his little speech had every nerve in my body revved up, rough, barely controlled patience and assertive demand in every word. Crawl, he wanted me to crawl. Two could play at that game. I dropped to my hands and knees and fixed my eyes on his crotch. “Oh, is that what you want?” He said, spreading his legs wider. He lifted the leg of his briefs and pushed his thick cock out. He leaned back, never taking his eyes off me. His eyes were half-lidded in a sleepy sort of way, but make no mistake, they promised a brutal immediate future. He took up the entire chair with his beefy size, looking like a heathen warrior sitting on a throne of skulls. He pulled his foreskin back briefly, then re-hooded his hard cock. I caught a glimpse of precum glistening at the tip. “Mmmm, yeah, that’s it… stalk your prey.” I licked my lips as I took my time stretching out my limbs in a slow and languorous movement, rolling my shoulders with every extension. I was going to take my fucking time. He wanted to play animals? Fine. I kept my head low as I crawled, my lips in a snarl. Playing with my prey was a panther’s prerogative, and this beast before me was not too big for me to handle. I could taste the sweet juicy meat already. “Good kitty. Come here, I have a treat for you.” Like hell I was going to be that easy. Yeah, I wanted it, so much it was driving me crazy, but he started it and the game was no fun if either of us gave up right away. I looked away, over to the bed, the door, down at my hands. I took a quick glance back at him with a bored look and saw a scowl coupled with a dark, sinister smirk. “Disobedient.” Just one word, but it held so much meaning as a promise. He sighed and shook his head once. As if he actually regretted what he had to do. I wasn’t fooled. I created a plan all my own that had nothing to do with his desires. All he had to do was move. Whoever moved first lost the first round. He took his hand away from his gorgeous cock and ran it through his hair, that sexy rake that pulled it away from his gorgeous face. “I guess you want it the hard way.” I blinked slowly, completely still. Even though I had been waiting for him to move, his leap from the chair took me by surprise, it was that quick. I saw his muscles tense, but I’m ashamed to admit I let my focus lapse to enjoy the ripples of them under his skin. So many beautiful muscles holding all that comfortable effortless power. His hand was around my throat in half a second. I bit his wrist and grabbed him behind the knees. He jerked his hand back. I grinned up at him and yanked him off his feet. Whoever was below us heard a nice booming thud as his entire weight hit the carpet, or maybe not. Hopefully it was concrete, but who knows? “That’s going to cost you.” He grunted kicking his leg over to scissor my head. “You think you’re the only feral beast in this room?” He could talk all he wanted. One of us was getting fucked. As much as I wanted it to happen to me, I was going to make him earn it, and if he wasn’t man enough… well too bad for him because I was going to sink my dick balls deep in that magnificent big ass of his. I drove my hand up between his humongous calves and pried his ankles off my neck. Yeah fucker, I learned a few things in the army. For which I received a hard kick to the face. I saw stars for a second. Damn, so it was like that, huh? Oh fuck yeah. Bring it on, stud. If we both didn’t end up bloody I was going to be sorely disappointed. “Remember, you asked for this. I’m going to ring your fucking bell until you’re a nice, domesticated pet.” He growled. And he sent his heel into my chest. I rolled to take the majority of the force out of it, but it still felt like he reached my spine. I got to my feet, grinning. I let him climb to his feet as well. He didn’t even fix his briefs, his thick, hard dick still coming out the leg. It looked angry. I snarled. I crouched in a fighter’s stance. He smirked. I had a moment’s doubt. He wasn’t worried at all. “Aw, look at the training.” He said in a condescending tone like he was talking to a kindergartner. Then he just stepped forward slowly, not protecting, not guarding. I took a swing. It was a mistake. He barely moved and my wrist was in his grip. His hard, unbreakable grip. I gave him two rapid shots to the kidney which barely registered on his face. He yanked my arm down and around, my only choice was to let him flip me over. I’d recover when my feet reached the floor, I wasn’t worried. I should have been worried. Because he punched me in the gut while I was still flying over. And he didn’t pull it. “FUCK!” I gasped. And then he punched me in the face. Fucking hard. Then he didn’t wait he gave me a hard knee to the hip, full force. I went down to my knees. Fuck, where was that emptiness when I needed it? He was taking me apart. I was going to feel this tomorrow. He bent over to whisper in my ear. “C’mon Tom, you’re better than this. You better start fighting back or I’m going to have to fuck you when you’re unconscious. And don’t think I won’t.” He was right. I was taking it easy on him because I still thought of him as the man I loved. It was still a game to me. That had to go. I breathed, closed my eyes for a moment and felt the emptiness take me. I cautioned myself not to break any bones, but everything else was open as a tactic. “Oh-ho… Look who decided to show up to the fight.” Kevin said when he saw the look in my eyes. “C’mon killer, show me what you can do.” tit for tat. I round-housed him right in that square handsome jaw, which made him take a step back and shake his head. Even in my zone he looked so fucking hot when his head rocked with the force of my kick and his hair flew. Fuck yeah, I clocked him GOOD, and I decided I would kick him in his head a couple more times just to watch it again. “Nice.” He smiled. He had blood on his teeth. Fucking sexy as hell. Now he crouched, on guard. I guess he decided to take it seriously. I had to put my heel into his sternum next, like he had done to me. Automatic me planned it. A fake to get him to open and turn slightly. I had to heel him with a back kick, but he played it exactly like I orchestrated. “Hey…are you…. ? Oh you fucker.” He laughed, gasping at first, then his big, booming full laugh. He figured it out. Every shot he had given me, every time he rang my bell, I was doing to him. “But, time’s up, hot stuff. I want to fuck two loads into you before your brother gets out of the shower, so as fun as this is, I’m going to have to put you down.” That’s what he thought. I went in for a disabling strike but it glanced off the nerve cluster just below his sternum. I ignored the spike of pain that traveled through my wrist when my half-folded finger knuckles hit bone. The spike of pain distracted me for maybe only a tenth of a second, but it was enough for him to wrap my head in his big arms. “Time to go to sleep, beautiful.” He whispered. ********** I came to feeling his hips slamming into mine as he plowed my ass with all his weight. My legs were pinned by his hands, splayed out onto the mattress beside my hips. “Welcome back sexy.” He murmured with a smile. Fuck I loved him. “Took you long enough.” “Have you cum yet?” I asked him, not sure why that was the first question out of my mouth, but his insistent pounding and the fullness in my ass were all I cared about. I couldn’t have been out that long. I had never felt this relaxed. I drifted in a state of perfect ease. “Just waiting for you, baby.” He stroked twice more, powerful deep thrusts. “Number one.” He said, pausing for just a couple seconds as I felt his thickness expand and throb along with a sub vocal growl from his throat. He looked deep into my eyes as he shot his seed inside me. And that made my dick suddenly spring up. I’d gone soft when I lost consciousness, but with his cum shooting inside me it didn’t matter, my own cum started pouring out of my dick. Fuck! I came soft, what the hell? That’s what he did to me, and our fight unlocked something visceral inside me, some connection to him I couldn’t explain. “Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhh fuuuuuuuccccckkkkkkkkkk” I moaned in a long, deep heave as the cum poured out of my dick onto my stomach as my head arched back. I didn’t shoot, it poured out of me and holy fucking hell it was amazing, like one long continuous spurt of jizz originating in my prostate. I looked up into his smiling face. “You’re” SLAM “So SLAM “FUCKING SLAM PERFECT! SLAM SLAM SLAM He dove onto my face and kissed me with his bloody mouth and I just kept cumming. I was going to pass out again. I felt the world close in, the light became a tunnel, and then nothing. ************ I woke up again with him gazing at my face with a look of deep love radiating from those soft flannel eyes. He was still on top of me, inside of me. He kissed me again, this time full and everything, it was The Kiss. I had never been so happy, so content, so completely submitted to him. “You’re incredible. The things you make me feel, Tom.” He whispered, tears in his eyes. “Did I hurt you?” I laughed with a joy I don’t think I’d ever felt. “You hurt me as much as I wanted you to. I meant it. You’re perfect, Kev.” “Why do you do that?” He asked, grinning. “I was going to be all gentle and loving and treat you like my beautiful, wonderful Tom. I wanted to show you how much I love you. Instead, we end up kicking each others’ ass until we’re bruised and bloody then have the best sex we’ve had, ever.” I gazed at him, serious. “I feel how much you love me every time you meet me on a new, higher level. Every time I think I’ve left you behind, you come up and meet me. I was going to beat you bloody and fuck you if you didn’t get me first. I can’t believe you got me. But….” He waited. But I didn’t fill the silence. I just fell into his eyes. “But you were waiting for me to get there with you…”. He finished. He locked me, pulled me in. And just as I was spiraling down, he said “I’ll do whatever I have to, Tom, to be right beside you, always.” his kiss was in my soul. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just get dressed over here while you keep your dick in my brother’s ass.” Kevin didn’t move. He just smirked. “Lesson.” He whispered. God it felt awful when he yanked his thick cock out of my ass, but he was up and off the bed in an instant. Part of me wanted him to beat my little brother bloody too, for ruining the moment. I didn’t have the strength to participate, I was too far in that feeling of contentment, so I watched. Part of me knew I was just laying there exposed, the blankets fallen off the end of the bed. But men were men. Naked, cocks out, bare-assed, only weak men cared about that. I rolled onto my side to see what punishment Kevin would demand. He would never go further than Tim could endure. And after he took me without breaking a sweat, I knew Tim was going to get what was coming to him. “Tom. Control your boyfriend.” Tim tried first. I just remained silent. “C’mon Kevin. It was just fun, right?” Tim continued when I didn’t interfere. Kevin was walking slowly towards him. I knew his dick was still hard, at most he’d cum twice. Usually it took four times until he was done. Poor little Tim. No, Kevin wasn’t going to fuck Tim. But the picture of Kevin the Beast striding slowly towards you with a rock hard thick as fuck cock paints a whole different picture than some dude fully clothed, right? And Tim didn’t know what to keep his eyes on. Kevin knew that, his rather large dick bouncing out in front of him as he walked. “Did you call me a sucker?” Kevin said, in a surprisingly conversational tone. “Well… It was… I mean… “ Tim stammered. “It made me think you weren’t really sorry. Like you apologized without meaning it.” Kevin was now just a foot away from Tim. Both were naked, but only Kevin was hard. I guess Tim had whacked all the stiffness out of his not too shabby teenaged dick in the shower. “I meant it, I swear.” Tim said, his eyes wide. Kevin stepped forward, now they were almost touching. He bent down, Tim was still shorter than him by four inches or so. I saw Tim’s body tremble. Kevin whispered something in his ear and I saw his lips move across the flesh there, like a caress. Kevin made sure his lips touched Tim’s ear. I knew how soft Kevin’s lips were, and how they felt so good when they brushed across you. I was enjoying this. I knew how Carol had taught Kevin everything she knew, so I know Kevin was playing with my little brother in some way. We were both sure Tim was probably bi, and we knew he had a thing for Kevin. Nothing was going to happen, but Kevin was getting his pound of flesh for Tim’s impertinence and disrespect. Kevin couldn’t be that close to Tim without his dick rubbing up against his stomach, he was way too close. Then Kevin pulled his head back slightly to line up with Tim’s face, their noses touching. I wish I knew what Kevin whispered to Tim. “Are you going to be a good boy?” Kevin said, his lips so close to Tim’s I found myself wanting to see them touch. Kevin’s eyes were locked onto Tim’s, and I watched my little brother’s chest heave with deep breaths. Tim didn’t want to move away, even a centimeter. “Yes, sir.” Tim said, with the barest breath. Kevin put his hand up on Tim’s head and stroked his face. “Good boy.” He said, and gave Tim the barest brush with his lips. When Kevin turned back around to me where Tim couldn’t see I got the most satisfied smirk I’d ever seen on him. Fuck… Kevin was just insane. I didn’t miss the renewed boner my brother sported, and the dreamy smile on his face as well as his closed eyes. I was also newly bonered. And after that performance, I didn’t care if my little brother watched. “You better pull the sheets up.” I said when Kevin came back. “No, you want him to know what real love is?” Kevin asked. “He needs to see it. That last part, he’s not ready for. But this, I want him to find this for himself. Girl or guy. Are you in?” Kevin asked me. He raised is eyebrows. I didn’t know how to answer. I wanted to protect my little brother. I didn’t want him to think of sex as dirty, or something to be ashamed of regardless of how he wanted to do it or who he wanted to do it with. But part of me also didn’t want him to think this was an invitation to join in. After what I just saw between Kevin and Tim, I knew I’d want Kevin to be the one to show Tim what sex between two men could be, just like I felt good about Carol teaching him about sex with women. Tim obviously carried a crush on Kevin from the start, and I loved that. Tim saw Kevin as a hero, and if he couldn’t emulate me or dad, Kevin was the next best choice. I knew Tim’s personality though, and he’d blaze his own trail. Shit… this was up to me. Was Tim ready? I had no idea. I felt the right decision settle on my mind. It was up to Tim. I looked over to my little brother, who was still standing where Kevin left him, hard teenage dick erect, his hero-worshipping eyes on Kevin who was next to me. “Tim?” I called out. “Yeah Tom?” the expectant hope in his voice cut me, just a little, I know what he wanted, just from his response. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that too, just a little. But he was my brother, and he had to grow into a man of his own mind before I’d even consider crossing that line. Right now, he had heroes, he had larger than life men who were everything he wanted to be, and he just lost his biggest hero, his father. In this, I had to be resolute. My little brother was a HUGE part of my heart. I wanted him to be a man to be proud of, a man HE would be proud to be. I know he would let either Kevin or I do whatever we wanted with him, but I didn’t want him to be anyone’s plaything, manipulated into conditioned responses, submissive to the first person that gave him a boner, afraid to be confrontational or draw the line between what was worth it, and what you could leave behind you in a forgotten pile of trash. Maybe Kevin was right. If I walked away from Kevin today he’d pace behind me two steps away until I looked back and then he’d challenge me. He wouldn’t let me take another step until I proved I wanted to leave him behind. And it would be damn hard to prove that. I couldn’t figure out how he maintained his independence, his own path, but I still had him right beside me. How the fuck did he do that? He was like no one I’d ever met. He was ALL him, but somehow he was part of me too. I don’t think I was him… I sure as hell couldn’t meet him on that intellectual brain level he was at. My brain didn’t turn in gears like his. I knew, I saw, it came to me, I understood…but fuck if I could explain it. It was all intuition for me, some fucking kind of magic that just connected the dots without understanding how. Kevins gears clicked until all the pegs fell into the right holes and he knew every peg, every hole, every gear, every turn. He dissected until all the tiny pieces were revealed. Me… hell I saw people as whole and complete, and I just understood what that meant. But Tim had to see how real it was. He had to know the depth it could reach. That stuffing your dick into someone was fine, but there were levels so much deeper where souls fucked, where minds inseminated and fertilized. Sex was biological. But making love was metaphysical. Levels existed, and I was sure humanity hadn’t found them all, not after my altered state experiences. Hell, how had Kevin made me cum just after regaining consciousness? I felt the dive over the cliff was imminent and right. I loved my baby brother so much, maybe more than I even loved Kevin, that I wanted him to know, to understand how deep that chasm of love could be so that he had a lodestone to orient towards when he found love himself. I know he loved me, and I absolutely know he was in love with Kevin, but a love all his own was what I wished for him, something he would value and protect with every fiber of his being. A love that lived and grew inside him as its own immutable truth, like what I had with Kevin. “Come here, Tim.” I said softly. I watched him walk over, trepidation in every step. I looked up at Kevin, into his eyes, those beautiful, soft flannel eyes that held all the emotion I pushed with every beat of my heart, He knew what I would ask. I looked up at Tim, standing next to Kevin. They were so different. Tim was unfinished, not yet complete, his face needing me to be the one to decide. “Tim, do you want Kevin to kiss you? Nothing more, just a kiss?” I saw a tear fall from Tim’s eye. “Yes, but I don’t want to hurt you. Is it okay, Tom?” The pleading in his words…fuck. He thought he would steal Kevin from me? Kevin answered, reaching up to hold Tim’s young face in his hands. “Tim…Little bro… I love you, you know that right? You aren’t going to hurt anything. Tom loves you with all of his heart. I love you too. It’s okay. We want you to know what that love feels like.” Tim was looking down. He was crying fully now, tears just pouring from his eyes. He looked up, his eyes full of hope. Kevin moved in slowly and first kissed Tim with a gentle peck, just barely brushing his lips on Tim’s. I saw Tim’s body go limp, but Kevin was ready, and surrounded him with his capable, comfortable arms. And then… Tim felt…. The Kiss.

Thanks man! And you’re right…about not rushing it. I want to do it right. These early chapters have a bigger purpose than being entertaining. But I also don’t want to have the story and the drive to write it recede to the back of my mind. That happened when I went to Texas, and it was so hard to bring it back. I will definitely write at least a little every day while on the cruise, so it stays fresh.

Damn, thanks man!!! Next up, Kevin and Tom. I hope I can get it done before my cruise next Wednesday. Then it’ll be two weeks before I can post again.

Thanks. Yeah, this one got to me too. Weeble needed this.

WEEBLE AND WICOMB Assmunch was on a tear trying to keep all the guys movin to clean up the barracks before clear out. I didn’t mind much cuz I wanted to get out of there too so I could spend the rest of the day with Wicomb. I gotta say though I kept findin my eyes goin to Assmunch’s friend Kevin. Now that was a nice piece of man right there. He looked a little uncomfortable in those tight slacks and white dress shirt that didn’t hide nothin of what he had goin on. But that hair, and those dreamy eyes, eyes almost as nice as Wicomb’s. I was used to seein muscles, hell Sleeper and Zeus were damn near perfect, but somethin bout seein ‘em move in tight fabric like Kevin had on was so fuckin distractin. Nice meaty bulge too, not like I was starin or nothin. It was just, well… there, ya know? Hard to miss was all. It would be easy for a civilian to seem awkward or out of place, but Kevin wasn’t none of that, just walkin around easy as you please like he belonged. When the brothers teased him about his hair he just gave ‘em an easy grin like he didn’t care. Whatever he said back was too low to hear, but it made the brothers smile or laugh. Just comfortable in his own skin, I guess he was. Sorta like Assmunch. Some guys just knew who they were and that was that, with nothin to prove. That was easy for big guys like Kevin. “He’s definitely something, isn’t he?” I heard Wicomb say. I froze like a mama deer hearing a twig snap. “Relax, Victor.” He continued, puttin a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve been checking him out too. He’s got a lot to look at.” I glanced back at him, still uncertain if I was caught doin somethin bad. Lookin was one thing, but I had to try to remember if I had gone over the line. Wicomb chuckled. “Bud, you don’t have to worry. It’s cool.” Damn. He definitely caught me. Crap. I wondered if he figured out I liked guys. That was gonna ruin everythin. It was one thing to do Wicomb a favor for bein nice to me on that trip to North Carolina, and a whole nother thing for him to think I was gay. If he figured it out he probably wouldn’t want to be my friend. I felt a panic start to crush my chest. “Hey, I gotta ask Assmunch somethin, you mind strippin my bunk? I’ll be right back.” I rattled out in a rush. Wicomb looked confused. “Uh, sure bud.” I couldn’t walk away fast enough. I wasn’t lookin for Assmunch, I needed a quiet corner to get myself under control. FUCK! Okay, no more lookin at no one, I gotta be cool. Just around Wicomb. The brothers didn’t care or even notice if I stared at them. Sleeper kinda loved it actually, gettin stared at when he shook that butt of his. I swear he made his dick and balls flop around on purpose when he walked around naked. He’d stretch or yawn while he was standing naked in front of you, darin you to drink in an eyeful. He drove me fuckin crazy sometimes. I loved it. I guess I got too comfortable when none of the guys cared, and we all just accepted more than the usual examination by our brothers. Hell, when your platoon had an actual pissin for distance contest in the showers, then some of them went for a cum-shootin contest, no one cared who was lookin. Footlong even let us feel the weight of his big ole dick once, givin anyone who wanted to a chance to feel what a real big dick felt like. Just the once though, and I think he did it so the guys would just stop talkin about it. He seemed embarrassed by it. I think I’d have to explain to Wicomb. It honestly wasn’t no big deal. Sure Kevin was beautiful, but it was because he was exotic, you know, so different from the Bravos with his long wavy hair like a pro wrestler. “You good Weeble?” Shark asked when he passed me in the hall as I was leanin up against the wall slowin my breath down. I nodded. “Yeah, just had a moment. I’m good, brother.” Shark tilted his head and knitted his eyebrows together, fixin me with a hard stare. “If you’re lying, I’m going to beat it out of you. You’re either good, or you speak up, got it?” It was the concern in his voice that finally relaxed me. My brother would be there for me if I needed it. Just knowing that…well it made me NOT need it, if that makes any sense at all. I smiled. “Yeah Shark, thanks. I’m good now.” He nodded. “Just so you know, it’s when you don’t smile that we know. And we know your fake smile too. Any one of us will have your back, bro. You just pick one of us.” Fuck these were just the best guys. “Thanks for that. I love you, brother.” Shark reached out and pulled my head into a quick arm lock. I felt a kiss on the top of my skull. “I love you too, brother. Get back to your friend. He’s standing there looking like an idiot.” Well, shit, I couldn’t go back bawlin like a baby so I dried the tears before they could fall out of my eyes. I knew walkin back that I’d have to tell Wicomb. If he was the guy I thought he was, or who I hoped he would be, then it wouldn’t matter and he’d still be my friend. If he didn’t understand, then I figured I had plenty of better men in my brotherhood to be friends with. It was kinda funny how we all just tracked each other with part of our attention all the time. We knew immediately when somethin was out of the ordinary. Yeah, my Brothers were all I really needed, if it came down to it. The words sounded good, but I knew it would hurt if that happened, just like it always had. I took a breath before walkin back into the bay. Wicomb knew the barracks drill and my beddin was nowhere to be found, already deposited in the canvas laundry cart sittin at the end of the bay with an Army green AIRBORNE B1A stenciled on the fabric. He’d even rolled my mattress. I walked up with a smile. “Well that brought back all sorts of unpleasant memories.” He said. I guess he was talkin about the clear out. I saw Wanker across the way sittin on Bootlicker’s shoulders shovin who knows what crap up into the ceiling and replacing the ceiling tile. Those two were always up to somethin but they had each other. It seemed like they each found somethin they needed in the other one. But Bootlicker was the boss of all that, whatever it was. “What are they doing?” Wicomb whispered in my ear, throwin his really good feelin arm over my shoulders. I shrugged. “Secret Bootlicker stuff. We don’t ask. Assmunch might know.” “So, all of you have nicknames?” He asked. “Yup, it kinda just happened early on. A couple of the guys started it the first week, and after our first Barracks Bitch Saturday everyone had a nickname. A couple changed along the way, like Assmunch, but most stuck that first week.” I answered. “So what’s yours? Killer? Pit bull? The TERMINATOR?” He emphasized that last one dramatically with an Arnold accent. I laughed. “We don’t have no names like that, it’s all just fun. I’m Weeble.” “Wait…what’s Barracks Bitch Saturday?” Wicomb interrupted. I wasn’t sure how far to go to explain, and was saved by Sleeper in all his glorious nakedness. I saw Wicomb give Sleeper a long, slow once over while Sleeper waited patiently for Wicomb’s eyes to stop roamin. A cocky grin was plastered on his incredible face. “Damn.” I heard Wicomb say under his breath. “You should see Zeus. He’s a BIG GODDAMN when you see him naked.” Sleeper said. “Barracks Bitch Saturday was our only night without the fucking Sarges breathing down our fucking necks, so we had a party in the barracks. One brother got picked to be our slave, the unlucky fuck. Maybe Weeble can tell you about his turn at Barracks Bitch. I’d say you’ll find his second and last times the most noteworthy. Right Weeble?” I shot Sleeper a glare while his handsome prick face grinned with pretend innocence. “Well? What happened?” Wicomb asked. I scowled at Sleeper, who just winked at me. “I thought we weren’t tellin.” I said with a growl. Sleeper put his hands on his hips. “Oh, I think Wicomb can be trusted.” Then Sleeper’s grin dropped and a look passed over his face that I recognized from when I told them about what Delnick and Barnell had done to me. “You can be trusted, can’t you Wicomb?” What was happenin? A look passed between Sleeper and Wicomb. Just the tone in Sleeper’s voice caused the other Bravos within earshot to stop what they were doin and look over at us with a serious look. What the fuck was happenin? “Hey Sleeper, yeah, Wicomb’s good. It’s no big deal.” I said, tryin to smooth things over. “Victor…? What’s going on?” Wicomb asked softly, frozen in place. Sleeper stepped up close, pretty much pressin his naked body against Wicomb, and his eyes never left Wicomb’s face, they were exactly the same height. “Weeble means a fucking lot to us.” Sleeper said in a whisper no one else could hear. “Treat our brother with respect. He likes you, pretty boy, so If you’re just here to use him, fuck off or we’ll fuck you off.” And with that, Sleeper moved to the side and his face resumed its cocky grin. “The second time he was Barracks Bitch. That’s the best one. And Weeble? Tell him ALL of it, then you’ll know.” And then Sleeper walked away. “Hoooooly fuuuuuucckkkk.” Wicomb breathed out. “I’m sorry Wicomb, I didn’t know he was gonna do that.” I said, feelin really bad for Wicomb. That was a little mean of Sleeper, Wicomb hadn’t done nothin. “No, Victor. He’s right, and I’m glad you have guys like him to watch out for you. If I was more like Sleeper none of that bullshit back at Bragg would have happened to you. Look, let’s get this shit done so we can go somewhere and talk. I promise it’s nothing bad.” ****************************** ASSMUNCH Sleeper found me finishing up in the day room. He made me roll my eyes the way he just walked around dick out, shaking his perfect ass. I’m sure Kevin was loving every single minute of it. And Sleeper was loving every minute Kevin was loving it. I’d had Zeus get Tim and Kevin out of the bay before I sent Sleeper in to do his thing. I didn’t want them getting the wrong idea about Sleeper, or the Bravos. “You get it done, bro?” I asked my freeballing friend. Sleeper nodded. “Yup. It was exactly how you called it. Hunter Wicomb couldn’t take his eyes off all this foxyness.” He ran his hands over his chest and stomach. “Stone cold sex fox.” I gave him a slow blink and a deadpan look. “Yeah. Uh. Never do that again, ever. Or say those words. I will seriously puke on ‘all that foxy mess’. Ugh.” “FoxyNESS, you fucking asshole.” Sleeper laughed. Which cracked me up too. “I rubbed my dick on him. And I said something stupid.” I gave him a stare. “What did you say Sleeper?” The dick rubbing… well it wouldn’t be the first time Sleeper rubbed his dick on someone. I couldn’t figure out if he was marking them with his scent, or it was an insult, or some kind of dominance thing…whatever, if he was after you he was either going to teabag you or dick wipe you. Not important. Sleeper shrugged and had a sheepish look on his face. “Well he didn’t move back like I expected him to, so we were, like, dick to dick. And that kinda threw me so it didn’t quite come out like we talked about.” “WHAT. DID. YOU. SAY?” I swear to God I was going to grab his hanging nuts and yank them backwards up through his perfect ass crack in a nutsack wedgie. “Okay, well he did get the point, let me just say that first, okay?” He pointed both his index fingers at me like two pistols, thumbs cocked. “Message delivered and received.” Why the fuck was he drawing this out? “Say it.” “Okay, I said ‘Weeble means a fucking lot to us. Treat our brother with respect.” He paused. “That’s exactly what we talked about.” I didn’t see a problem. Sleeper looked down. “Um, yeah, well that’s where it went off the rails. I said ‘If you’re just here to use him you can fuck off or we’ll fuck you off.’ “Wha——“. I shook my head. “What the fuck does that even mean? We’ll fuck him off?” Sleeper cringed. “I know. I panicked. I think I called him a ‘pretty boy’ too.” I sighed. “Well you better hope we don’t have to follow through on that. If he was checking you out like you say, he has a much different idea of us fucking him off than you meant.” “I was trying to be clever like you.” I snorted. “You’re the pretty one, dumbass. Not the clever one.” His face changed into what I can only describe as a look of righteous victory. “YES! I’m the pretty one. You finally admit it. HA! Hey, you think my operator designation during ops can be Bravo Fox? That’d be so cool.” After which he turned about face and shook that perfect dumper all the way back down the hall while whistling some made up happy tune. “You’re fucking mental, you know that?” I called out to him as he strutted away. He flipped me the bird over his shoulder. And yeah, I watched those marble boulders of his amazing ass bounce until he turned the corner. *********************** We ended up at Wicomb’s hotel room off post. He wanted to get out of his uniform. I had my duffle and packed ruck with me so I put ‘em by the chair. Our Sergeant Airborne released us and after he gave orders to the randoms and holdovers, he told us Bravos we had four days liberty but we had to report back at 0500 Wednesday. I had nowhere to go. I hoped it was okay if I stayed with Wicomb until he went back to Bragg. “Victor?” Wicomb started as he came out of the bathroom. “I need to be honest with you.” “About what, Wicomb?” Wicomb grinned. “Hey bud, can you… call me Hunter? I mean, if you want to. I’d like that.” I smiled. “Sure Hunter. Wow that sounds weird.” He shook his head. “No, the way you say it, it sounds perfect. ‘Hunner’. It’s your southern accent.” He told me. It did sound weird though, to me. I’d always called him Corporal or Wicomb. But Hunter suited him too, it was a man’s name, strong. “Hunter. Hunter. Yeah, I like it.” I said, smiling up at him. “Do you think I could stay here with you Wic— uh, Hunter? I don’t have nowhere to go until I report back. I can pay you half for the room.” “Dude, don’t worry about it, okay? You can stay with me, and you don’t have to pay me half. ” Hunter Wicomb said. “Thanks, that’s real nice of you Hunter Wicomb.” Okay, I gotta stop that, that was way worse, his whole big name. “But…you only have one bed. I can rack on the floor, I got my bag. This’ll be fun! What do you want to do? I have liberty! Oh! I’m hungry! We just had MRE’s today. Hey, can we go to Burger King?” Wicomb held up his hands. “Slow down, bud! Sure, we can do anything you want. And you don’t have to sleep on the floor in your fart sack, bud. Geez, you really want to climb in that thing when you don’t have to?” I shrugged. “I’m used to it, it’s no big deal.” The truth was - I wasn’t sure if I should sleep in the same bed, I really wasn’t. I don’t know if I could sleep next to Wicomb all night just a few inches from his beautiful face. I probably wouldn’t sleep much. “Fuck. Here goes.” Wicomb said. “Victor, look, I um… shit! Victor, please don’t tell anyone what I’m about to say if I’m wrong, okay?” “I wouldn’t Hunter. You’re a good guy, you’re really nice. You’re my friend, right? I wouldn’t do that to a friend.” But now I was concerned. “Are you in trouble, Hunter? I can help. I know how to do stuff now.” If someone was messin with Wicomb well… I’d fuck ‘em off just like Sleeper said. I don’t know exactly what that meant, but I was pretty sure a beatin was in there somewhere. “No, bud, it’s nothing like that. Okay, I’m just going to say it. Please don’t hate me.” He took a deep breath. “Victor I’m gay, and I thought… well,” he paused. “I like you, Victor, a LOT. I understand if you aren’t. I mean, you’re such a bad ass, nothing stops you. I don’t even know how you got through infantry training but you did. I just thought that, you know… last time….” I was stunned. I had a million things goin through my head. “But you didn’t say anythin. After. Why Wicomb? If you had, it woulda changed everythin.” I should have been happy, right? And I was, truly really. I just wanted to know. I would have done so many things different. And then I realized what I would have missed out on. I never would have taken that offer from my Lieutenant that put me with the Bravos. I never would have learned to be strong. I would never have learned what I could do, what I could endure, and who I really was. I would never have learned what it meant to have brothers like the Bravos. I stood up real slow and went over to Wicomb. In a way, he’d done me a big favor. “Hey, bud… it’s cool.” He said, sounding frightened. “I can go. I’m sorry, it was just a mistake.” “Shut up you idiot.” I said, and it came out surprisinly as a command. I grabbed his head and pulled him down into me for a kiss I’d wanted to lay on him from the moment I first set eyes on him back at Bragg. With every kindness he’d shown me, every pat on my back, every smile he gave me when he said ‘Good morning Private Chambers’ like he was just glad to see me. Because he tried to protect me from the guys in the shop bein assholes to me. No one is happy to see Army Privates unless there’s some distasteful duty that needs doin, but Wicomb was always happy to see me. I came up for air and looked at his stunned face with those dreamy electric blue eyes. Such a fuckin stud. And a great kisser too! “I’m gonna do somethin I’ve been dreaming of.” I don’t know where it came from, this confidence, this control and dominance but I wasn’t stoppin. “I’ve had a thing for you since I first saw you, and you bein nice to me all that time, even after all the shit came down, I just wanted you more. I hope you’re ready, we’re gonna fuck our brains out.” Wicomb gulped. “You don’t want Burger King?” I threw him on the bed. “You’re the only King I need right now. We can eat when we’re exhausted.” I sure hoped he could keep up, but even if he couldn’t I’d fuck myself on his beautiful dick if I had to. The first time was kinda awkward, but I know it was on account of me takin charge when I didn’t know what the fuck I was doin. So I’ll tell ya about the second time. Which was WAY better. “Dang, bud.” Hunter said after the first time, in heaving breaths. “Holy shit you’re a wild animal. So meek and innocent on the outside.” He busted out laughing. “What?” I asked. “Fucking Sleeper…’if you’re just here to use him…’. Is that what he meant when he said you were going to fuck me off? Job well done, soldier. Mission accomplished.” He put an arm over his eyes. “I think you broke my dick with that amazing ass of yours. Holy fuck. I’ve never had the cum vacuumed from my balls before.” I was layin beside him, curled up in his arm tryin to catch my own breath. “Sorry, I just been waitin for that a long time. I kinda got carried away.” He chuckled, it was kinda awesome hearing his laugh and voice through his chest. “Sorry?” He snorted. “The fuck you are.” That made me laugh. I wasn’t, even a little bit. “God I love to hear you laugh. You know Victor, you’re just amazing all the way through. How are you so happy all the time, about everything?” I shrugged. “I don’t know, I just am. It’s better when you laugh and there’s lots of good stuff happenin all the time. Bad stuff happens, but it’s never as much as the good stuff. It never is. So if there’s more of it, that’s what’s important.” And then Hunter rolled over and kissed me. He kissed me like he wanted to, I felt it. I knew, because no one had ever kissed me like that in my whole entire life. It was all soft and tender, but with that intense hunger of a man. This time, Hunter was doin the drivin. Hunter was grinding his nice big cock into my hip. I liked his dick, the way it was surrounded by a dark bush of pubic hair that got thinner before blendin right into his dark leg hair. He also had a little trail of hair up his stomach to his chest where it spread out over his pecs. It wasn’t a lot, just enough to look like a man. See, that was the thing about Hunter I liked the most. Everythin about him was all man. From the way he walked, to his five o’clock shadow, to his slightly hairy muscled chest, his broad shoulders, his sturdy legs and awesome butt…and that dick of his. Nice large hangin balls too. I spread my legs and wrapped them around his waist. “Yeah? You want it again?” He growled in between aggressive kisses. “Yeah, please fuck me.” I breathed. “You’re so sexy. I can’t help it. I want your dick in me so bad.” “Grrrrrrrrr…” he looked me in the eyes with intense hunger. “Fuckin’ hot little muscle body on you. You looked good before, but now… holy shit Victor. Your tight little body gets me going. I love that you could kick my ass if you wanted to.” He broke off and pushed up onto his knees, then grabbed my legs and threw them up, knees to shoulders, bendin me in half. “Look at that sexy tight fucking hole. Shit, that’s nice.” Big tall dark and handsome Wicomb was tellin me I was hot. Damn. He started grindin his big ole dick in my crack, rubbing it all over my asshole and it was drivin me crazy. I reached down to grab it and get it in my hole, but he swatted my hand away. “You had your turn. All you have to do is let me love this hot man under me. I’ll make sure you get everything you want, stud.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearin. He called me a man, and a stud. He started kissin my neck, lickin my ear and movin down lower. I had a moment of confusion and doubt. What was he doin? Where was he goin with that mouth? Yeah, I showered at the barracks when I helped scrub the showers down, but that was a couple hours ago, and he fucked me already once (well…it was more like I rode him like a Triple Crown jockey goin down the back stretch just a head out of first place). I probably wasn’t smellin too good down there, especially after sprayin my cum all over myself. Besides, what do I do? How do I act? I was drunk that one time I 69’d with Barton, and he was the the only guy who’d ever sucked my dick or got anywhere near that part of me with his face. And I was tryin not to remember anythin about that asshole. “Relax, Victor.” Hunter said, grinnin up at me after momentarily takin his long tongue out of my belly button. His hands still pressed down on the back of my knees, pinnin my legs up. I was pretty much at his mercy. “I want to taste all of you. This is a dream come true for me.” Huh? Guys didn’t want to do all that stuff, that was sorta my job doin it for them. A man laid back and let you take care of what he needed, or he pushed you down and worked his dick in you until he came. That’s what turned me on, knowin I was gettin them worked up to cum. I usually didn’t cum if I was just blowin ‘em, mostly cuz it wasn’t about me. I jacked off after, when I was alone. But men like it when it’s all about them. And I liked it when they liked it. Mostly they just wanted to feel their dick in a warm hole and they didn’t take too long to get off, maybe a minute or two. I really liked bein the one that got ‘em off like that. The faster they came, the better I figure I did, and I was pretty good now, I knew. Men didn’t really want to do all that other stuff, the kissin, takin it slow, and definitely not a lot of touchin or talkin. And lickin me? Hell no. So I’m just gonna say it, Wicomb’s mouth felt weird lickin its way down my chest, and it made it so I was thinkin more about what I was supposed to do, how I was supposed to act (was I supposed to moan, or tell him it felt good? Hell, I don’t know how it felt…I mean, maybe good but did it feel like THEY thought it felt when I did it to them?). I was really worried. It wasn’t as incredible as they made it seem if this was it. Should I feel more? Was I doin it wrong? Was somethin wrong with me? “Hey, bud… relax. What’s wrong?” Wicomb asked, letting my legs go and coming back up to look me in the face. Shit. Yeah, I was doin it wrong, I shoulda moaned or somethin. “Nothin’s wrong, Hunter. You don’t have to stop.” He fixed me with those deep blue eyes and somethin told me I was caught. “You’re not having fun. What’s going on?” He asked. His deep manly voice was so sweet. I tried to smile. “No, I am.” “Victor, you don’t have to lie to me, bud. I want you to enjoy this too. Tell me what’s up.” Now I was embarrassed. Everythin was goin so good and I ruined it by not knowin what the fuck I was doin. You’d think I’d be better at sex, I’d had sex with eight guys, including Wicomb, so you’d think with that many I’d be as good as a professional. Eight guys is a lot. But I had to be at least a little good, or they wouldn’t cum so fast, right? Wicomb sighed, then brought his hand up to my face and stroked my cheek. That felt so good, ‘specially when he looked into my eyes that way. “You’re not used to a guy treating you like this, are you?” He said. “Look bud, good sex goes back and forth, both of you should be enjoying it.” I looked away. “I do enjoy it. I like makin a guy cum. I like bein the one that gets him to cum.” Wicomb chuckled. “Yeah, you’re good at that. Well, better than good. You suck dick better than anyone I’ve ever met. And your ass? The way you work that beautiful thing… fuck! But Victor…sex isn’t always just about getting the other guy off. I mean, that’s great if you don’t have feelings for them, sometimes just busting out a load gets your head back on track. But if you really like the guy, like I really like you, it goes back and forth. Yeah, I could just shove my dick in you and nut real quick, but if that’s all I wanted I could find a hundred guys I could get that from. You’re special Victor. There’s something about you, I’ve seen bigger, more capable men crumble when faced with some of the shit you’ve gone through. You’re so incredibly strong. I didn’t realize that until after you left. I kept thinking about how you showed up at the shop every single day with a smile on your face after the guys started treating you like shit. I’d see the way they hurt you with what they said, but you still tried like hell to be good to them, to treat them with respect, do what they said, to stay happy. You never got sullen, or angry. I know damn well a couple times you wanted to cry, I saw it, but you never did. You just let them be assholes to you and didn’t change who you were because they treated you bad. It takes a strong person… a real MAN… to walk through a situation like that with his head up. Victor, I don’t just like you. I admire you, I want to be more like you, I want to see the world the way you see it, where people are good, filled with optimism and hope. I want to look at every day like it’s going to be the best day. And if I can’t do all that, I want to watch you do it, because somehow when I see you looking at the world with those eager, gentle, kind, smiling fucking BEAUTIFUL eyes it makes my heart soar. I kicked Barton’s ass because I couldn’t stand thinking about how he might have destroyed that smile. And he was being such a smug prick. Why the fuck would he even care? He probably secretly likes dick himself.” I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want Wicomb to know about Barton. Nothin good was gonna happen if he knew. But the rest of what Hunter said hit me kinda deep. He thought about me that much? I still couldn’t look at him. “I don’t know about all that Wicomb.” “Hunter…please Victor?” He was right. It was just because he was older, and I looked up to him that it felt weird calling him by his first name. If I wanted him to be my friend - and I did - I needed to use his first name. “Hunter…do you really think about me that much?” Hunter sighed. “Almost every day, Victor.” He turned on his side and put his arm around me and pulled me into him, his front against my back. He kissed my neck. Man, he felt so warm and good holding me like that. I fit just perfect snugged up in his arms. “I’m glad you wanted me to come visit you. I felt like an idiot that I let you go without telling you how I felt. I was scared to come, but I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t.” I reached up and grabbed his hand, it was stroking my chest real nice like. “You were scared? What for?” “I was nervous you weren’t gay, even if you gave the best fucking blow job I’ve ever had. I thought I had taken advantage of you. I asked you to go see my brother because I had a huge crush on you. I wasn’t going to try anything, but you kept staring at me. Maybe you don’t realize how you come across when you look at a guy like you do, but it was like I was something incredible in your eyes. Like I was important. It felt like you saw me as some big hero. You just focused all your attention on me. That felt good. I thought I might have forced you into doing something you regretted, and after the rumors started I was afraid you thought it was me who told them. It wasn’t, I didn’t tell anyone, Victor.” I turned around in his arms, ready to look him in those deep dreamy eyes. “I know it wasn’t you, Hunter. I know who did it.” He stared at me. A few seconds went by. I guess he was doin the math. “It was Barton, wasn’t it?” My heart started beating real fast. Would he hate me if he knew? He pulled me tighter in his arms. “That fucking asshole. You sucked his dick, didn’t you?” I tensed up, but he kept going. “You gave him the best blowjob that ugly fuck will ever have in his entire life and he shit on you for it. I’m going to kick his ass again.” Hunter kissed my head again, but didn’t stop, just kept his face pressed against my hair. “I’m sorry, Victor. He shouldn’t have done that.” “You don’t hate me?” I asked weakly into his chest. “What?” He pulled away to look me in the eyes again. It was hard to look back at him. “Hate you for what? Victor, no.” I wanted to believe him. His face got really hard and serious. “Dude, you suck whoever’s dick you want to suck and don’t feel bad about it, ever. Do you understand? It doesn’t make you a slut, or a whore, or anything except a red blooded American male. Sex is awesome! It’s fun, it feels good - even better when it’s someone you love - so enjoy it. It feels good even if it’s just getting your rocks off.” “Yeah, but …. I didn’t have no feelins for him, it just happened because we were drunk. That’s different.” Hunter laughed. “Drunk stupid sex is good too, my man. Sometimes it’s exactly what you need, no feelings, no real concern for who they are, nothing to get in the way of just doing it. Sometimes that makes it even better, knowing it’s only about the dick or ass. Do you think Barton cared about anything except getting his dick drained? I guarantee he didn’t give two shits about you. Did you get off?” It felt weird talkin about this, with him, like it was somehow wrong. But a part of me wanted to be honest. I don’t know why, he just gave me a feelin that it was okay. “Yeah, after he went to sleep.” “Jesus, Victor.” Then - “What a fuckin tool. Look, bud, I think I get it, you like getting a dude off. You like being the one that makes them feel good. I also think you believe they’ll like you more if you let them do what they want to you. There’s nothing wrong with that except it doesn’t really make them like you more. Guys like that only care about getting off. There’s a whole lot more to sex if you let yourself get a little something back too. It’s okay to want more from them. Fuck, now I feel bad about that time in North Carolina. I did it to you exactly the same. I let you blow me and I didn’t give you anything in return.” “Hunter, I wanted to do it that way. I didn’t expect nothin back.” I thought he was bein too hard on himself. I know he didn’t get it, that there was somethin real sexy about a man just takin what he wanted then puttin his dick away and pretendin like nothin happened, even though we both knew he loved it the whole time. It was excitin like that. And it was real good thinkin about it later and jackin off to how I remembered it. That’s how real men were, just happy as pie if they got their balls emptied. Sometimes they said thanks, which felt good too. Sometimes it was just a smile. And later, when they were nice to you or treated you like a normal person it felt extra good. That meant they really appreciated what you’d done for them. Plus, that usually also meant they’d ask you to do it again sometime. “Besides, you did plenty. The way you treated me the whole entire trip, not countin the blowjob… you made me feel really good. That was real important to me.” Hunter sighed. “Maybe I’m the one thinking of it the wrong way then. For you, anyway.” He propped his head up on his elbow and reached out to stroke my face, smilin at me. Hunter had nice teeth, real pretty and white. “Damn you’re cute.” He said. I shrugged. “I’m just me. That’s all.” “Arrrrrgggghhhhh, fucking adorable. It drives me nuts when you do that ‘Aw shucks’ thing.” And he reached out to put his lips on mine, and then his tongue in my mouth. I loved feelin his tongue go past my lips. Hunter did it gentle, his tongue was long so he got it deep in my mouth. It just felt incredible. And he didn’t just leave it in there with his mouth open and pressing down on mine, he moved, sucked on my lips, he played with my tongue, hell, he played with my whole mouth. You could just tell Hunter Wicomb knew what he was doin. I hadn’t kissed but one guy in my whole life, and one girl. But the girl wasn’t no French kiss. She did it on a dare from her friend. And we were just 14, so neither one of us knew what real kissin was. The guy… well that was nothing like this. I gotta be honest, compared to Hunter’s way of kissin, that other guy was sloppy. He was doin it while he fucked me, moaning. He was a nice guy, not much to look at but super friendly. I met him at the mall one time, and next thing you know he was doin me in the back seat of his car. I was just gonna blow him, but he wanted to fuck me too, so I said okay. It wasn’t no big deal. I liked kissin like this a whole lot more. Maybe Hunter was right, it felt different when it didn’t feel like they were doin somethin TO you, like you were doin somethin together. I wasn’t gonna tell Hunter, but I also liked it when they did it TO me, except not kissin. Kissin was way better when it was back and forth, like he said. Alright, enough of all that, I had the sexiest man ever runnin his hands all over me, callin me cute, and kissin me. This time, I let him do it how he wanted. Now that I knew how much he wanted to do it this way, it didn’t feel so weird. In a way, I was givin him what he wanted, and that made me feel good. Real good. It was nice knowin I just had to be me and he liked ‘just me’ a whole lot. When he reached down and started playin with my hole it felt so good. He had my legs spread again, his other hand pinnin my leg against my chest while he never stopped kissin me. He rubbed his dick against my hole and I couldn’t stop myself from moanin. I couldn’t wait until he slid it up inside me. “You like that, huh?” He growled, and the sound of it drove me crazy. He made it sound rough. “It feels real good.” I was feelin all warm and emotional so I wrapped my arms around his chest and pulled him into me. I wanted to feel his body on me. He pulled his mouth off mine and spit on his hand, then put it back down to wet his dick. His eyes never left mine. He put his dick in me so slow, not like the other guys had fucked me. It didn’t hurt at all, not even a little, and bein a little sore from the first time actually felt even better. I’d never been fucked twice in a row like this. Usually the guy was done right after the first time and we just got dressed. And like I said, most of the time they didn’t last long on account of how I was really good at sex. Damn…DAYUM! Hunter was pretty good at sex too. That was so good when he got all the way in and I felt him pressed all the way against me, just perfectly deep. He stayed there for a few seconds, and I felt his rock hard dick jump. “Oh fuck, Victor. Your tight little hole feels so good.” He said as he moved real slow. He was fuckin me with his whole body, so nice and easy. I was relaxed. I ran my hands down his back and grabbed his butt to feel him move. I wasn’t tryin to control anythin, just wanted to feel him do it. Most guys don’t like you touchin their butt durin sex. Guys that wanted to fuck didn’t want you gettin any ideas about playing with their butt, I learned that my first time with Brody, the football player I told you about. But Hunter loved it. I don’t know what made me take the chance, I only knew I wanted to feel all of him. His ass felt awesome, I could feel it clench and relax as he pumped into me real slow and easy. I kept one hand on his nice butt, and let the other one rub all over his back. All I gotta say is WOW! He was makin my asshole feel amazin! But my body too! I wanted him to fuck me harder, faster…but I also wanted him to keep going like this, nice and slow, deep, then shallow. I couldn’t decide. I think his dick was breakin my brain. Every time he got his dick all the way in, he did this thing where he squeezed his ass and I’d feel his dick jump inside me as he held it there. Then he’d take another pump, but at a different angle. Sometimes he would do short strokes using just a couple inches of his dick. He never stopped kissin me. God, I hoped he wouldn’t cum, I wanted this to go on forever. My whole entire body was movin with him…I was fuckin him back while he was fuckin me, my legs were clenchin around his waist like I was climbin a oak tree, my arms and shoulders were unconsciously flexin with his movements, my head and jaw kissin him while he was kissin me. I started moanin. So much was happenin, so many things were goin on, I couldn’t focus on just my ass, just my mouth on his, my hands all over him, my dick gettin all smushed between our stomachs drivin me crazy too. I didn’t care what was goin on, it felt like every nerve in my body was singin. I’d never been fucked like this before. “Hunter, please don’t stop.” I begged him. “I’ll go as long as you want, stud man.” He growled back. “You are just perfect. Your ass is perfect, your smile is perfect, your body is perfect, the way you fuck is perfect.” “I’m just doin what you’re doin. You’re incredible.” I gasped. “Mmmmmmmm”. Back to not talking. I was all for that. Only two other guys had fucked me face to face like this. Brody back in high school, and George Thibideaux’s dad in his shed out back. He was supposed to be showin me where the lawn mower was for when I came to cut his lawn that summer after graduatin. Showin me the lawn mower took like maybe 15 seconds. The other minute and a half was me on a workbench gettin plowed by Mr. Thibideaux’s six inch dick. You know, I tried not to be disappointed when a guy doesn’t have a big dick, but Mr. Thibideaux’s didn’t feel like much at all. But it didn’t take too long, and he was real nice to me, always smilin and askin me if I needed anythin. Hmmm, maybe plowed wasn’t the right word. Stickin. Yeah, he was stickin me with his six inch dick, not thick at all. That’s what it felt like. He paid me $20 extra every week because he said his lawn never looked better. He always helped me put the lawn mower away in the shed after. That was nice of him, because I always figured that’s what he was payin ME for. And then he’d lift me up onto the workbench and do his thing. And Brody? He liked lookin at my face, but he didn’t kiss. I didn’t care no more about what I was supposed to do, how I was supposed to act. Everything Hunter was doin left no room in my brain for wonderin about all that stuff. I just kept thinkin how this was the best fuckin I’d ever had. God, I’d let him fuck me all he wanted. I felt like my dick was always on the edge of cumming, like if he just did it a little bit harder I would shoot. He’d been fucking me for ten minutes now, just nice and easy and slow, and it was the best thing I’d ever felt in my whole entire life. And then, he rolled me over until I was on my side, and he had one leg behind me, and one leg in front, with my underneath leg between, and my other leg restin on his chest and shoulder. I didn’t think he could go no deeper, but I was wrong. WAY WRONG. He kept up the same slow strokin, nuzzlin his face against my foot while he pumped his beautiful dick so deep into me. I sure’d never been fucked like this and oh my good gracious! He was pushing up across somethin that felt like he was fuckin the cum out of me. “Harder, please!” I was grunting and breathin real hard now. He didn’t change how fast he was goin, but if felt like he was punchin my asshole in the best way. And he was givin me this look like I was doin somethin to him, only I wasn’t. I was just there, lost in this incredible feelin. I couldn’t stop lookin into his gorgeous blue eyes, those eyes were what I first fell in love with, the very first time I saw him when I transferred into his unit at Bragg. There was electricity in his eyes, like they glowed. “Unngghhh. Yes! Oh please!” He was sendin me into some desperate need for him with his fuckin. “Oh gosh, it feels so good.” “Yeah, buddy. So fucking good.” He grunted out. “Hunter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum, don’t stop.” I cried out, and he sped up just a little, but kept goin just as hard. “Come for me, stud man. I want to make you cum.” He punctuated every sentence with a thrust deep up inside me. He musta been fuckin me for 20 minutes now and it was the longest fuck I’d ever had, it was so incredible every single minute from the very start. How was he doin this? We were both sweating, and as he bent over me his face was dripping sweat onto me and I swept my tongue out to swipe a drop from my upper lip. The taste of him sent me over the edge and my dick started spurtin all over the place. “Ooooooohhhhhhhhhh Godddddddd.” I cried out. “Fuck me, please fuck me.” I didn’t know what I was sayin anymore, things were just pouring out of me everywhere, my words, my sweat, my cum, heat, and I swear sparks were comin off me too. My head was thrown back and my hands grabbed his hips to pull him into me as hard as I could. “FUCK! ME! FUCK!” I screamed. “YES! Fuck, I’m cumming too! Oh shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He grunted and I knew he was shooting all his cum up inside me. I didn’t think I could feel even better, but knowin I was takin his cum felt so right like I was made for it, like my ass was the place his cum was supposed to go. Usually a guy cums fast, like a few strokes, then pulls out right after. But not Hunter, he just slowed down, got more gentle again, repositioned so we were back fact to face and he started kissin me again while still stroking. “God, it’s still coming.” He said. “It’s so incredible. You’re incredible.” He said between deep tongue kisses. I felt all relaxed, like nothing in the world needed doin except this, except kissin him and holdin him, and keepin my hole on his amazin dick. Too soon, he stopped moving, keeping his dick inside me, but it was goin soft, I could feel. I still didn’t want him to pull it out. I wanted his dick in me all the time. He was murmuring all sorts of sweet things to me, rubbing his face up against mine, his beard stubble rubbin soothinly on my cheek. “You’re so beautiful Victor. Such a sweet man. I love everything about you. You fit so right here in my arms.” No one had ever told me nothin like that, not afterwards, and I couldn’t believe someone like him thought about me that way. I loved the way he called me a man. I loved the way his arms felt like they were comfortin me, not just holdin me in position. I loved how he wanted to touch me with his whole entire body like he was enjoyin how I felt. It was so different from all the other times. It felt like … like …. Together. Like he wanted the same thing as me. “Hunter…” I said. “Thank you for bein nice to me.” I didn’t realize sayin that would start tears fallin from my eyes, but that’s what happened, and I didn’t feel stupid at all. “Hey. Hey.” He said, smiling. He wiped the tears from my cheeks. “You deserve to be treated nice, stud man.” He chuckled, his deep voice makin it sound so sexy. “Well I never made anyone cry before. I must have done something right.” That made me laugh, even though I was still cryin a little. “That was the best sex I ever had. But this part is even better.” He smiled. “Yeah, I have to admit, this part has to be my favorite part so far.” He stroked my buzzed hair and looked deep into my eyes from just an inch away. I sighed. “I could stare at you forever.” He cocked his head. “Am I too heavy? Do you want me to get off you?” “No!” I said real quick. I liked his weight on me. “You aren’t crushin me. Stay like this, okay?” He grinned. “You sure?” And he relaxed, which meant all his weight came down. Oh fuck. Damn, that felt even better, knowin I had all of him pressin down on me. That was the best part of big guys. “Yeah. Just like that. I feel safe.” I just blurted it out, I didn’t know that was gonna come out of my mouth. He whispered in my ear. “You’re safe with me, Victor.” I felt the tears start again and I hugged him real tight