Barracks Bitch

[Assmunch]

47 minutes ago, BoYGaSM said:

I just have to say… you are so talented!  I get so wrapped up in your words it allows my imagination to consume me and nothing else but the story plays out in my mind just like a movie.  Its so real it’s almost as if i have ACTUALLY seen the movie… if that makes any sense.  It also helps that i was in the Army 15 years so it really does manifest easily having knowledge of the topics you touch on and the fond memories of my time as an MP in the Army (mostly all under “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” so this absolutely touches home for me!)

Thanks bud!  It was a long time ago for me growing up on way too many military bases, but I try to put a little something of everything I remember into this story.  It makes me feel good pulling up those memories, the little stuff you don’t really think would matter - what it was like in the base gym, or the PX, the buildings that were mostly old (didn’t matter which post you were on sometimes you wondered why they didn’t just fix shit) and how you wondered who rated so high they got a new or renovated one.  You know what’s some of my favorite memories?  It’s how being on base just FELT different than the outside world.  All the rules changed when you went through that gate.  I’m really glad I hit the right notes.  Hearing from former service how what I write just takes them back to their own time in gives me that added push to try even harder to bring the reality of that time into clear focus.

[laguyinhou]

17 hours ago, BoYGaSM said:

I just have to say… you are so talented!  I get so wrapped up in your words it allows my imagination to consume me and nothing else but the story plays out in my mind just like a movie.  Its so real it’s almost as if i have ACTUALLY seen the movie… if that makes any sense.  It also helps that i was in the Army 15 years so it really does manifest easily having knowledge of the topics you touch on and the fond memories of my time as an MP in the Army (mostly all under “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” so this absolutely touches home for me!)

Same here, @BoYGaSM. It's all so familiar, so comfortable...like remembering the fun times with your unit. For me, sadly, it's also scary. Weeble's experience at Bragg reflected mine in the fleet-with two exceptions: it ended my career, but not before I was attacked and raped with a broom handle for being the queer on ship. Like Weeble, I made a decision not to out the 10 or so guys I'd been with-even my version of Wicomb, though he became a right bastard instead of just being distant. 

[Assmunch]

47 minutes ago, laguyinhou said:

Same here, @BoYGaSM. It's all so familiar, so comfortable...like remembering the fun times with your unit. For me, sadly, it's also scary. Weeble's experience at Bragg reflected mine in the fleet-with two exceptions: it ended my career, but not before I was attacked and raped with a broom handle for being the queer on ship. Like Weeble, I made a decision not to out the 10 or so guys I'd been with-even my version of Wicomb, though he became a right bastard instead of just being distant. 

That’s fucking awful.  It’s unfortunate that your experience was not unusual back then.  Once word gets out fear of association turns things ugly as if the only option for the predators is a demonstration of violence or bullying to prove they never wanted to do it to begin with.  The lies they have to tell themselves to hide their willing participation (mostly from themselves) breeds anger.  And even now it adds insult to injury that the general belief is that if a soldier is assaulted it’s their own fault somehow.  I have tried to avoid the darker aspects, or dance around them, of being gay in the military back then in the hopes that I wouldn’t stir up too many painful memories but I tend to blame leadership the most for what happened and continues to happen.  They set the tone, they determine what is acknowledged, accepted, and allowed.  A hands off NCO, a distant or mission focused Officer sends the message that the complex social aspects of commanding a unit isn’t a function of command, when it fucking well is and I know for a fact from my Dad that Officers are actually taught at length about managing the individuals under their command.  And ignoring it only means you leave that sort of thing up to troops who have been taught that judging the subtleties of the UCMJ or unit behavior isn’t their concern which leaves street justice as the most common go-to. ‘The Army doesn’t care about your personal problems, Private, figure it out or we’ll figure it out for you.  And you won’t like our way of figuring it out.’   I’ve known many types of Senior NCOs and Officers.  Not all were competent in their command.  In fact, the good ones were rare.  Selection for promotion and placement is heavily weighted towards time, personal accomplishment and performance often ignoring how they got it done.  No, the military shouldn’t be some feel good happy place, there’s too many idiots, fuck-ups, whiners and slackers for that.  But there’s also the assholes, predators, and bullies who perform well but are never corrected or disciplined for how they do more to ruin a unit’s morale than any cocksucker could ever do.

[laguyinhou]

4 hours ago, Assmunch said:

I have tried to avoid the darker aspects, or dance around them, of being gay in the military back then in the hopes that I wouldn’t stir up too many painful memories

But that's just it. Some things must be faced head on. You don't need to dance around them. The best and worst times in my life happened in the Navy, and given the choice between having to relive the bad parts so I don't forget the goodand never having been in at all-well, I'd choose being in every time. 

[Assmunch]

                                                                 ZEUS & WEEBLE

 

Victor reminded him of George, his boyhood friend from so long ago.  It was hard for Gabriel to judge the smaller guys when he looked down from so far above.  A difference of a couple inches, or ten to fifteen pounds all looked the same on their tiny bodies.  But one thing was always the same - that eagerness to prove themselves so that everyone else would think of them as one of the guys.  George was good at that.  When Gabriel would watch him longingly after their friendship ended he saw George fit in easily with a couple of the other guys at school.  That made him both happy, and sad.

Victor had almost exactly the same way of smiling no matter what it was.  Victor always made sure to let the guys know how great they were doing, how strong, how fast, how proficient.  He knew the best compliments to give.  And he was ready to lend a hand no matter what the task or duty was.  He volunteered more than anyone else.  Some of the Bravos were reluctant, would grumble or try to trade off the duty Andrew told them to do.  Victor never did and seemed happy to do anything.  Gabriel hated to watch him struggle and had to stop himself from helping Victor all the time.  Andrew had quietly talked to the rest of the Bravos and told them to only give Victor a hand if it looked like he couldn’t do something, and to let him try first.  He said Victor needed to be proud of what he could do, and the more he could tackle himself the better off he would be.  Andrew was pretty smart.

He wanted Victor to know he would watch out for him by putting his arm over his shoulder.  He was so little.  Gabriel could fit his entire shoulder from neck to outside in his hand.  Victor scooted closer to him when he did that and he squeezed his hand, being very careful to do it gently.  They followed Andrew out the barracks exit to the area with the tables and benches where the other soldiers liked to smoke their cigarettes.  There were five tables there, plenty of room to give some distance.  Zeus noticed the others never bothered or tried to intrude upon the Bravos if there were more than two of them together.

“Let’s sit here.”  Andrew said, indicating the furthest table from the door.  The yellow-orange glow of the sodium area lights above painted everything in brightness and shadows.Victor sat down and Addison went to go sit by Andrew across the table.  Addison belonged next to Andrew, they were a team.  Gabriel couldn’t fit easily between the bench and the table, so he straddled the bench with Victor on the bench to the side.

“You want to tell me what’s going on with you, buddy?”  Andrew asked.  Gabriel loved the way Andrew always said it straight out but never accused or pried.  Gabriel suspected Andrew had already figured out why Victor was acting different, that’s what Andrew was good at.  And he was good at letting you say it yourself.

Victor looked down at the table.  Gabriel could see his hands between his nervously bouncing legs clasping and moving apart, his fingers dancing with anxious energy.  Addison and Andrew couldn’t see that.

Gabriel didn’t really know why, but it seemed the right thing to do when he moved forward and put his arm around Victor and snuggled up to his small body.  “It’s okay Victor.  You can trust Andrew.  He’s not mean.  And Addison isn’t mean either.  They are really good.”  He said softly down at Victor’s head.  “They helped me and they will help you.” Gabriel felt Victor’s small body tremble.  Was he afraid?  “Don’t be afraid, Victor.”  Gabriel tried to think of what Andrew would say.  Both Sleeper and Andrew were just watching, silent.  Gabriel liked how they could do that.  They probably didn’t know that waiting was a bigger help than saying anything most of the time.  And he didn’t know why he felt like Victor needed him but that’s the feeling he got.  Or maybe it was that Victor needed all of them, he was just closest.  Well, he could do that.  He could do it because he didn’t do it for George.  His only friend.  But now he had Andrew and Addison.  And he suddenly realized he could have as many friends as he wanted.

**********

Victor didn’t want to look at these big guys, and suddenly he felt even more like an imposter.  What was he doin here?  Guys like them belonged here, not him.  They were men, he was just a boy.  And gay, which the Army absolutely said don’t belong here neither.  His previous hopes of being straightened out by the military now struck him as laughably foolish.  All he’d done was put himself into a situation where he had constant temptation and torture.  He was 20 years old now and this dumb experiment proved everythin except what he wanted to happen.  Two years and he didn’t feel any different.  Well, except he’d learned not to swallow all the dicks.  He supposed that was worth somethin, anyway.

“Victor?  C’mon man.”  Sleeper said gently.  “You have that look again.  What are you thinking about?”

It was time to stop pretendin.  Besides, they’d see it all eventually if they hadn’t already so what was the use of tryin to hide it?  It was pretty damn clear it was only a matter of time before things played out exactly like they had in the 128th back at Bragg.

“I don’t belong here.  At least not like you guys do.”  Victor finally said.

Assmunch and Sleeper both had the decency to look confused.  That was nice of them to pretend like that.

Sleeper jumped in before Assmunch.  “You’re a Bravo, our brother Weeble.  You sure as shit belong here.”

Assmunch nodded.  “That’s right.  But why do you feel like you don’t?”

Victor took a deep breath.  It could be worse, he supposed.  At least he was doing this on his own terms and gettin ahead of it before he messed up during some critical mission or operation.  “That’s nice of you to say and all, but look at me.  It takes so much more effort for me to do the same things you guys do.  I struggle every day doin stuff you guys find easy.  And what am I gonna do in any kind of direct engagement or combat?  I’m only gonna get someone killed because I can’t keep up.”

Assmunch snorted.  “You keep up just fine, Weeble.  None of us worry about you anymore.  Yeah, when you first started it was pretty rough.  But you weren’t any different than Wanker or Holler.  Hell, even Chunk was struggling until he dropped that weight he brought with him when he came to Germany.  Maybe you were too wrapped up in struggling to keep up to notice the others around you, but you weren’t the only one.  Now, you do great.”

“But I don’t feel like it.  All you guys slow down so I can keep up.  You always end up helpin me in some way.  Nothin’s changed, I’m still not good at this stuff like you guys are.”  Victor explained.  Now that he started, he was feeling more confident that he was right.  “I’m just holdin the Bravos back.”

Assmunch shook his head.  “Ah.  So you’re feeling sorry for yourself.  You think the rest of us find this stuff easy.  We don’t slow down for you, Victor, we push you to keep up with us, and you do.  Sleeper, how’d you do on last year’s M4 qualification?”

Sleeper shrugged.  “29.  Not awesome.”

“32 for me.”  Assmunch said.  “What about navigation?”

“Ugh.  Barely.  I have the simple stuff down, but without Zeus and Cellblock with me in the forest in Germany I’d have led the guys to a cold death in that storm.”

Assmunch nodded.  “I’m better, but nowhere near as good as Zeus or Bootlicker.  And what did Sleeper do in the forest? Sleeper got Zeus and Cellblock to help him.  But we all know you qualified with a 37 on the M4, and your navigation and map reading is better than 80 percent of us.  I could keep going but being able to ruck 40 pounds for 6 miles isn’t the only test of whether you belong here, Victor.  Every single one of us depend on our brothers to give us a little help.  That’s what brothers do.  You’re our brother so we help you too.  And don’t forget you didn’t start out as Infantry, so you’re having to catch up to a lot of us with the physical stuff.”

“It feels like I won’t ever catch up.  And you guys are talkin about Ranger School.  There’s no way I’m gonna survive.”

“Yes you will.  You haven’t given up so far, and all of this has been really difficult.  Why would you give up now?”  Assmunch asked.

Victor took a breath.  “I guess I’m not givin up, exactly.  I don’t wanna quit, and I don’t wanna stop bein a Bravo.  You guys are totally nice to me, like…all of you.  I guess I feel like if I can’t be like you guys and keep up by myself then I’m not really one of you.  I feel like I’m pretendin’ to be a man.  It sounds so stupid.”

Assmunch’s eyebrows went up in surprise.  “A man?  Victor, you ARE a man.  You aren’t pretending.  Do you think even half the guys you went to high school with could do what you do now?”  He paused.  “Oh fuck, I know what you need.”

“What are you thinking, Assmunch?” Sleeper asked.

“Well, you all need it I think.  Maybe I’m not doing the brothers any favors by keeping our noses to the grindstone and staying focused.  You all need a reminder of who the fuck you are and how far you’ve come.  We’ve been stuck behind Army walls for the last 8 months.  It’s easy to lose sight of what all this means and I realized something when I went home.  I want you guys to realize it too.  We’re going off post Saturday.”

 

                                                                    ***********

                                                                   ASSMUNCH

 

We finally got through Tower Week and while it seemed to go by quick, it also felt like we learned a thousand skills, terms, and details.  We were kept running from location to location, listening in class, demonstrating what we were taught and of course jumping from taller and taller towers.  We didn’t jump from the 250 foot tower, we were lifted up with a fully deployed parachute canopy and dropped, so you could learn to use the slips to guide your descent, and get a sense for how to hit the ground.  It was way quicker than you expected.  After a while, the height doesn’t even register and I have to say I don’t have any idea when I stopped thinking about that harness snapping into my groin but fuck I was relieved it wasn’t as punishing anymore.  Not as punishing, but still not non-existent.  You don’t stop moving or doing tasks from 0430 until 1800 after evening chow.  And even after you were released it was study time because at any time while you were on the course a Black Hat could ask you to show and tell anything you’d been taught up until then.  ‘What’s the donning procedure for the Harness Assembly?’; ‘Name 3 differences between the T-10C and the MC1-1B Canopy’; ‘demonstrate the 4000-count Exit Position’; ‘what are the 9 points of adjustment on the parachute harness’?  They could tell at a glance who knew what they were doing, who made a mistake, and who was fucking off.  It was their job to spot the slackers or those who were unprepared just as much as it was to instruct us and keep us from killing ourselves.  Their duty was to make absolutely sure any unprepared soldier never made it on a plane for Jump Week.  They didn’t yell if you got it wrong, they simply pointed out your mistake and instructed you on the right answer.  I guess, for just this one thing, the Army figured fear and terror wasn’t a good motivator.  Check back with me later in my career, there might be other things too, but right now, it was refreshing not to have a mistake shoved into your face.  At this point, just about all the dead weight had dropped or been booted.  All we had left to do was Jump Week, when we got to do five actual jumps from a C130 or C17.  That was what this was all about…qualifying on your actual jumps.  But, as we’d learned this week, way too many things could go wrong.  Some were things you had to be prepared for - landing in a tree, water, power lines… a fucking building or structure of some kind.  Others were malfunctions like your main parachute failing to deploy, lines getting twisted, descending into another paratrooper during descent.  And then there were the mistakes.  I don’t even want to think about those.  If you were lucky, you’d only end up in a hospital for 8 weeks and physical therapy for 6 months after that.

I’d told the guys we were going to enjoy our Saturday night out, but that morning at 0930 I grabbed Zeus to go around with me and talk to each brother individually to clear up anything they weren’t sure about, and to judge where they were having trouble.  I was really proud of all of them, at how seriously they took the training and how they helped each other in between giving out heaping portions of ridicule and shit.  What else were brothers for, right?  I’d also had a quiet word with everyone about making Weeble feel even more included.  Here’s the thing with Weeble:  we weren’t doing him any favors by treating him like he needed our help.  I don’t know where the good middle ground was but we didn’t need to treat him like he was one step away from failing all the time.  After our talk Tuesday night I realized what I told him was true - he’d come a long way and he wasn’t the same soldier who seemed so inept when he first got to Germany.  He’d grown, and we needed to grow with him.  We’d fallen into a habit of watching out for him and he wasn’t fooled that it was for any other reason than he was the smallest.  Sure, he needed the help way back then.  But now he was 100% Infantry and we all needed to treat him no different than we’d treat any of the others.  Just not like we treated Bootlicker because it literally took the whole Platoon to squeeze his ego and his brain into normal people size.  Well, we were here to keep his ass grounded and we made sure he knew it.  But Weeble?  It was past time he stopped being the smallest brother, and became a brother in reality.

My sessions with the Major were already showing benefits in all sorts of ways.  I felt more centered, more focused and more aware.  I did better on our morning runs, now up to 4 miles, and in morning PT.  Of course, our morning runs weren’t a race because they wanted you to maintain a steady pace.  You had a minimum completion time and a max. Still, the Bravos and any of the randoms who had an actual physical MOS felt 4 miles was a joke.  I actually used the run time to meditate.  I’ll go into detail some other time, but running was already a pretty mindless activity and with a group it became even more mindless because you had bodies around you that guided your path and pace.

Benning ran a bus to town for the convenience of the soldiers in the Airborne Course, as well as those who were on temporary duty or assignment and had no personal transportation.  We couldn’t stay out late if we wanted to catch the bus back, but that was okay.  2330 was the last bus which was fine because I didn’t want the Platoon to have a wild night.  We could also get a cab if we wanted.  Back then all the MP’s needed was your name and assignment to let a cab on post to pick you up.  And the cab drivers who had the area around the base were pretty well known by the MP’s at the gate.  Most of us couldn’t drink because Georgia’s legal drinking age was 21 so I didn’t think we’d be up for staying out too late anyway.  In the afternoon we all went to the PX because more than a few of the guys realized their favorite shirt didn’t fit anymore or they wanted something new to look good in.  We didn’t wear our civvies very often.  I think my plan to get them to realize we were set apart from civilians was going to work pretty well, it was a strange feeling for way too many of the brothers to dress civilian.  Combat boots walk a whole lot different than Nike Airs or Converse High Tops.  Dimples was going to wear his boots but we told him not to be an idiot.  I guess he thought he was going to impress some girl with his boots.  Dimples wasn’t too bright.  We had Potter take a picture of us with Wanker’s Canon 35mm and we made Wanker promise to get us all a copy of the print.  That photo would become one of my most precious possessions in the years that followed.

“What the fuck are you fucking around for?  Let’s GO!”  Demon cajoled with a hyper energy we all felt.  Demon hated sitting still or waiting.

“Troll…” Cellblock said.

“Yeah yeah, I got him.”  Troll replied.  Troll was actually one of the ones we were waiting for.  He rarely sped up or was in a rush.  “The bus won’t be back for another 15 minutes Demon.  Settle down. Besides, it’s 1930, we’re going to get to an empty bar and be jacking off with each other until the crowd gets there later.  We’re not missing anything.”

“Yeah, but it’s not HERE.  Come on, Come on!”  Demon refused to be calmed.  He wasn’t feeling anything the rest of us didn’t feel.

“Did everyone get enough cash this afternoon?”  I asked.  That was another thing that felt slightly off, carrying a wallet with money and I.D. It was different than being on duty somewhere that you needed it versus a physical training course.  You didn’t carry your wallet during training because not only did you have no use for money, everything in your wallet would probably get ruined with sweat, water, dirt, mud or any number of other things and a lump in your pocket got in the way more often than not.  At Airborne, all you needed was your I.D. and meal card during duty hours so those were the only items you kept on you.

Of course we invited Potter, Battles and Lenger.  They’d asked around and heard of a bar uptown that allowed under 21.  I have no idea why they hitched to us for our night out when they were all a few years older and didn’t have to hang out with young Army Privates but I guess they had their reasons. We got lucky with a bus that was almost empty so we could all get on as a group and the cheap, basic nature of the white vehicle made me smile because like everything Army it was built for utility not comfort and reminded me of a school bus.  The guys were totally hyped and I felt a little bad for the six other passengers who had to endure the rowdiness of 32 twenty year old soldiers on their first night out in 7 months.  The night was chilly and I was mesmerized by the yellow/orange sodium streetlights making pools of light in the darkness as we passed close to buildings.  In between, the Army let the darkness rule.  As a training base, there was the occasional bit of foot traffic on the sidewalks as soldiers went to various Saturday night activities the base provided like the movie theater, bowling alley, gym, rec center, or even just going to hang out with someone they knew or just met.

“Did you always want to be a Corpsman, Lenger?”  I made sure to pronounce it correctly as Len-jer as he’d pointed out last week, turning to look at the Petty Officer.  Zeus was sharing a seat with Potter, Sleeper was next to Battles, and I shared with Lenger.  Potter and Battles were never far from Zeus and Sleeper.  Although all the branches had their rivalries and you always believed your branch was the best, it just felt like Marines went with Army, and Navy went with Air Force.  Navy and Air Force utilized machines to wage war and fight.  The Marines and Army… well, we WERE machines.  We were the boots on the ground.  We led the charge, went in, looked the enemy in the eye and ruled the battlefield.  We had a mutual respect between our branches even if we argued over who did it best.  I admired how the Marines bred toughness and competence.  But I admit to being a little puzzled why the Corpsman seemed joined at the hip with Battles and Potter.

Lenger shrugged and nodded.  “Free medical school?  Fuck yeah.  I don’t have to shoot someone in the head every day?  Fuck yeah.  I don’t have to dodge shells, bullets and mortars? No brainer.  I don’t have to crawl around in mud with you bastards?  Oh hell yeah.”  He laughed.  I couldn’t argue with that, but he wasn’t done.  “Seriously though, I like fixing people and my parents don’t have enough money to send me to college and medical school.  Never thought I’d be jumping out of a fucking plane though.  I still don’t know why I signed up for the Airborne Course.  They told me it would qualify me for an overseas station and I’d move to the short list.  You know how it is, every bit of extra training moves your file to a better desk.”

I could understand that.  Getting stationed OCONUS (Outside the Continental US) was a hope most enlistees had.  The military and crafty recruiters really sold the whole exotic adventure angle of enlisting because they knew it would seal the deal and get that signature.  But like everything military there were no guarantees or promises and they held that carrot out in front of soldiers to incentivize training and performance.  If there was one thing the military was good at it was offering incentive.  Offering.  Delivering, well not so much unless you constantly qualified at training and performance.  I could only speak for the Army, but foregoing competence for political advancement eroded any trust the ranks might have in you.  And there were plenty of those types - the ones who kissed ass and climbed by stepping on those around them.

“Yeah, but you just have to get on a ship to go around the world.”  I replied.

Lenger’s face scrunched.  “Nah. Boats aren’t for me.”

I laughed.  He grinned.  I think he knew what I was going to say before I even said it.  “You joined the Navy and you don’t like boats?”

“See?  You mud crawlers never understand.  I’m fine with the sea, ships, all that.  I just don’t want to be on one for six months and bunk three high, hop through hatches all day, ask for permission to go topside to see the sky once a day.  I guess the worst part is you’re never alone and it’s never quiet.  Some guys like that part of it.  I don’t.  It’s always close quarters on a boat.  I did my stretch, never want to do that again.”  He explained.

I nodded.  I wouldn’t like that either.  It did make me wonder if the Navy had anything like an Infantry Platoon where you became brothers and stopped minding having them around all the time.  “You have to be an Officer to be a doctor right?”  I didn’t know that for sure, but it made sense.

“Yeah, which is another reason I asked for shore duty.  I need to finish school, get my degree.  Then I get a commission and can go to Medical School.  Potter was saying you hoped to get your Ranger tab?”

“Not just the tab, Sleeper, Zeus and I want to be Rangers.”  I answered.  “Maybe a few of the other Bravos too. I haven’t asked them.”

Lenger looked at me.  “What about Officer?  Any plans to get a Commission?”

I shrugged.  “Not sure.  I don’t know if I’m Officer material.  That’s a whole different world up there.”

“Dude, you’re absolutely Officer material. I see the way you handle your guys.  But the most revealing part is how they follow you. I have to be honest, Potter, Battles and I all wish you could tell us how you do that.  You’re what?  19?  20?  You don’t yell, you don’t give orders… you just tell them what you want and they get it done.  Hell, they don’t even argue which I have to say just shatters my entire preconceived notions of Grunts.”

That made me laugh.  “Oh, we’re still Grunts.  All of us certifiably dumb enough to pull a trigger.  I don’t know, man. These guys are my brothers.  I feel responsible for them. I want all of us to do well, be our best. We’re at our strongest when everyone pulls together so that’s always been my goal. I don’t give orders because I don’t have to make them do stuff.  They’ve never let me down, so I won’t let them down.”

Lenger nodded.  “Yeah, definitely Officer material.”

“I guess I had some good Sergeants and El Tees as examples.”  I said.  “My dad had a lot to do with it too.  I just try to behave the way he said I should.”

The bus passed through the security gate and we were suddenly on civilian soil.  I know I was imagining it, but the air felt different.  The curbs weren’t as crisp, the land alongside the road seemed wild and ignored.  The businesses appeared a bit shabby.  I don’t think civilians understood how every detail on a military base was organized, purposeful, directed, overseen, and inspected.  Sure, civilian contractors were employed to manage the maintenance and upkeep of just about everything with a few important exceptions but God help whatever Officer commanded base operations if the grass wasn’t mowed or there was anything sloppy on the grounds.  If a full bird or a two star saw that shit someone was getting a directive.  Which meant the civilian contractors would have a military escort while they did their work for a week.  Just passing through the gate felt like you entered a different world.  The civilian world was wild, unmanaged, disordered, chaotic.  Even the buildings were irregular without any sort of plan to their arrangement.  The military functioned on order.  I knew the brotherhood were noticing the view out the bus windows when it got quiet.  Sure, they didn’t know why yet, but this was the feeling I wanted them to understand.  We were different.  We weren’t part of that world.  We were something more.  We could visit this world for a time, but we belonged in the Army world.  Eventually we might manage to strike a balance like my Dad did, but the ways we were molded by the Army would never leave us.

After a few stops, Potter announced our destination was coming up.

“Time to LET LOOSE BRAVOS!”  Demon shouted.  Oh holy fucking hell… the last thing we needed was Demon off his leash.  I wasn’t going to herd him, or any of the brothers.  That would defeat the purpose of the exercise.  If chips were going to fall, they’d do it without my control.

“God help us.”  Lenger muttered.

I snorted.  “Whatever happens tonight, at least it’ll make a great story to tell the Squids, right?  Besides, I heard Fleet Week sets a high bar.”

He laughed.  “Touché.  I can’t fucking wait!”  And that made me laugh too.

***********

The bar was empty.  Everyone that was under 21 got a stamp on their hand in some kind of invisible ink that only showed up under a black light.  Well, except for the Marines and Lenger because they were all a few years older.  But it was a nice bar, and because we’d gotten there before 2200, we didn’t have to pay cover.  Bonus.  There were a few different areas with a bar in each one.  I was looking forward to seeing the entertainment that the dance floor would provide.  As you walked in there was a large area with two pool tables, a couple dart boards and a pinball machine.  Around the corner was a sort of lounge area with a few high top tables and another small bar.  The dance floor was through a wide doorway and up a couple steps.  Off to the side of the dance floor was the largest bar.  Potter had chosen well.  Just judging by the size of this place, it was going to get really busy in a couple hours.  I hoped there would be a lot of women.  Not for me, Kevin was the only one on my mind, but even if they didn’t score I wanted the guys to remember what it was like to just have a good time.

We soon got into Take The Table pool games while we passed the time until the bar filled up.  Weeble surprised us all.  He kept the table for over an hour, killing everyone who challenged him.

“Fuck dude…you’re so lucky!”  Shark said after the second time he lost in the rotation, watching Weeble sink the 8 ball in his called pocket.

Weeble shrugged.  “You played really good Shark.  That 6 ball bank shot was amazing!”

Shark scowled.  “You had easier shots.  Every time I had to shoot the cue ball was buried.”

I watched Weeble as he smiled at Shark’s disgruntled comment.  “But you still sunk five of yours with harder shots, Shark!  You’re a good pool player.”

I didn’t know a lot about pool, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that every time Weeble had a difficult shot and he missed the cue ball ended up in the worst spot for Shark.  Over the course of the hour I watched Weeble hit shot after shot and leave the cue ball in almost perfect alignment for the ball he shot next.  I felt goosebumps up my spine.  Weeble knew what he was doing.  He wasn’t going to lose unless he wanted to lose.  I grinned when I also realized he was hiding how good he actually was.

By this time the bar had started filling with both locals and military from the base.  There was a group of four country boys watching the pool tables who looked like good ole boys.  The way they were leaning in to talk to each other over the loud music signaled they were hatching some plan as they commented to each other about Weeble’s shots.  Weeble kept looking over at them a little too regularly for me to think he wasn’t clued in to what they were planning.  So I went up to him as Cellblock racked the balls.

I leaned in to talk in Weeble’s ear while he chalked his cue.  “I think those four want a piece of you.”  I said.

Weeble shot me a shocked look.  “What do you mean, Assmunch?”

I glanced at the country boys real quick.  “They’ve been watching you play.   They’re hatching some plan.”

Weeble looked nervous.  “Like what?  Assmunch, don’t leave.”

Huh?  Why was he so worried?  He could beat these backwoods country fuckers without looking.  I could tell just by looking at them they thought they were the shit, some lucky prize for some unlucky girl who had the misfortune to swallow the drinks they’d ply her with before carrying her blasted ass out the door.  They’d probably just fuck her drunk in the backseat of their truck and leave her in the parking lot without her panties to find her barely conscious way home.  I knew the look, knew their type.  They had all of Sleeper’s arrogance without his kindness.  His swagger without his humility.  And nowhere near his looks.  Sure they were four good looking guys, decently built but nothing remarkable next to the guys in the Bravos.  And they were going to be really sad…so sad, when the girls saw them in the same room with Sleeper and Zeus.  They’d be lucky if there was enough alcohol in the entire bar to make the women forget about Sleeper and Zeus.

“Hey black boy!  We gonna take next.”  The tallest asshole called out just as Cellblock finished snugging the 8 ball into the center of the rack and rolling it forward over the set spot on the green felt.  I felt the hairs on the back of my neck spike.

Cellblock looked at me.  I gave him an angry look back and shifted my head sideways.  However he wanted this to go, I was behind him.  He looked a little defeated and I suddenly felt both anger and sadness.  How the fuck was this 1993 and this fucking bullshit still happened?  I got up off my stool and was just about to intercede when Potter walked up.  I swear to FUCKING God this FUCKING Jarhead had the most horrible timing.

“Hey Assmunch, I got you a drink.  Pour it in your virgin glass.  Here’s an empty for what you’re drinking now.”  He handed me the empty.  The bar had clear glasses for the alcohol drinkers and red plastic cups for the underage patrons.  Once again, my initial impression did the Lance Corporal a huge disservice.  As I poured my plain coke into the empty and swapped it with whatever alcoholic beverage Potter had selected for me I mentally apologized to whatever God the Marines worshiped.  Potter had been nothing but a complete brother.

“We’re about to have a problem, Marine.”  I said.  “These fucking rednecks just called Cellblock a black boy and took the next game.”

“Hoo-rah, time to stack some bodies.”  Potter flexed his impressive body and gave an evil smile.  Yeah, that was the last time I’d doubt Potter.  And actually, it was the last time I doubted any Marine the entire time I served.

I looked at Cellblock with a similar grin, but was surprised when he shook his head surreptitiously with a serious, frightened look.  I was going to need a talk with him for whatever that was about.  Bravos don’t back down.  I learned later that Georgia still had a reputation with black people for continuing the worst racial abuses imaginable.  Cellblock explained it using terms like ‘uppity niggers’ and ‘teach them to know their place.’  I remember the shock I felt at that.  I mean, I wasn’t completely clueless, I knew subtle racism was still around.  But this was like something out of the 1950’s.

“Sure guys!”  Cellblock said, turning around with a smile.  “I’ve already played a couple times.  You can play Victor.”  Totally and completely out of character for Cellblock, to be so effusive and servile.  I might be crazy, but it almost sounded like he tried to sound more … fuck… more white.  Cellblock sounded nothing like that usually.  He was more rough around the edges intelligent, direct, even challenging.  And ‘Sure guys!’ From his mouth just hit wrong…It should have been ‘Aight’ or better yet ‘fuck yo white ass’.

“Damn straight.  Luke, you want first?”  The biggest of the pack said to the skinny redhead of the group.  Tall and lanky, Luke stiffened up like he held the entire white race on his shoulders.  Poor Weeble had a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face.

I walked up to Weeble and whispered in his ear.  “They shit on Cellblock.  Teach them you don’t fuck with the Bravos.”

He looked at me, and I kept his gaze until his eyes hardened to match my own.

“Twenty to play on my table.” The lead redneck said, throwing a bill down on the table edge.  He seemed confident that his redheaded buddy had some skill.

Oh, now… this fucking backwoods piece of racist shit was already counting his paycheck.  Well, even though I’d never seen the redhead play, there was no way I was going to leave Weeble out to dry.

“Just $20?  I guess you’re afraid or don’t know the price.  Victor’s table costs $60.  It’s cool if you can’t afford it.”  I had confidence in Weeble, I had been watching how he planned every shot.  There was no way this small town fucking bar table idiot could outplay my brother.  And even if Weeble lost, we’d walk away and forget about these fuckers.  $60 was worth it to walk away from garbage like this.

The redneck posse huddled in a nervous, fervent conversation.  Lead redneck… hell, let’s just call him the Grand Dragon, because it was highly likely his Uncle-dad-Grandfather ran the local Klan chapter… angrily gestured his three buddies into silence and I chuckled when he held out his hand and they deposited three $20 bills.  This fucker….  Wow… I saw no indication of how huge his fucking balls had to be because the front of his tight jeans were completely flat.  He’d bet money he didn’t even have.  Wow… Maybe Bootlicker could take lessons from this fuckwad.

I squeezed Weeble’s shoulder, and leaned in.  “Take it all, brother.  Let’s make the boys some money.  If you feel good about it, slack off and make it seem like you’re just getting lucky.  Let’s milk these assholes for every dollar they got paid working at the hog farm.”

Weeble grinned.  “I can do it.”  He said.

I took out the whole sixty bucks I’d gotten for the night from my wallet and handed it to Potter.  I only expected to actually spend maybe $20, but I wanted to have enough to cover someone else if they needed it.  “Get their $60, bud.”

Potter went over to the Klan and held out his hand.  “Fuck you!  We ain’t lettin’ one of your buddies hold the money.” Grand Dragon spat.

I raised my eyebrows and smiled.  “My buddy’s a Marine.  Are you saying that Marine doesn’t have honor?”  Well that hit a nerve, but let’s be honest here, Potter may not be Sleeper’s size, but he was still jacked and there was no mistaking he could kick some serious ass.  The Grand Dragon had at least half a brain because he handed his sixty to Potter.  And of course Potter did the honorable thing and stood off to the side visibly holding the game purse so that no one had any cause to start an argument.

“Victor, it’s your table, go ahead and break.”  I said, nodding to Weeble.  “Bar rules, no slop, call your shot and contact with the opponent’s ball first loses your turn.  Clean shot on the 8 ball to win.”  I announced.  “Multiple balls sunk on the break is breaker’s choice.  Scratch is cue ball behind the line.”  Standard shit, but I wasn’t going to let them have any room to cheat.  I already knew they would if given half a chance.

“That’s right.  Break ‘em midget.”  Grand Dragon sneered.  It was going to take everything I had not to force his teeth down his worthless throat with my fist.  I signaled to Cellblock to come stand beside me.  There was a certain amount of smack talking expected, but country cousin-fucker over there was way over the line.  ‘Trust Weeble.’  I told myself and took a deep breath.  I automatically fell into Major Collins’ lesson and the calm descended.  I reached out and grabbed Cellblock’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  He looked at me and I gave him a smile.  “Weeble’s going to get you some payback, brother.  Just watch.”

And it was a work of art.  Weeble could have taken the win without ever letting the lanky redhead have a shot, but he played it sly and sneaky.  He missed shots I knew he could make and somehow left the redhead with no clear shot.  Weeble attempted to sink his 2 ball and instead nudged Redhead’s 9 ball right in front of the pocket.  And Redhead was a bull in a china shop on the felt, slamming the cue ball and sending it spinning around the table into other balls even when he made his shot.  There was no finesse, no strategy, no positioning like Weeble orchestrated.  Redhead was the sort that believe power demonstrated skill so he hit the cue ball hard, every time.  Unless you’d seen Weeble’s hour long run before the Klan showed up it absolutely looked like he was outmatched.  The best part of it was how frustrated Redhead got when Weeble never left him a clear shot to any of his balls, even though Weeble refused to sink any of his own.  I had a hard time not laughing at how Weeble was making it seem like he was the absolute worst player ever to play while at the same time frustrating Redhead so much he couldn’t stop whining.

Finally, it was down to Redhead having a half table rail shot on the 11 ball, while Weeble still had his 5, 1 and 6 ball scattered over the table.  At a casual glance, it looked like Weeble was going to lose.  Except there was no shot on the 8 without it contacting Weeble’s 1 ball by the corner pocket.  Even if Redhead made his 11, which I seriously doubted he had the skill to both sink a rail shot AND line up for the 8, he was never going to be able to get past Weeble’s 1.  Of course Redhead missed his rail shot on the 11, but he did position it near the corner pocket for his next shot.

It was a thing of beauty how Weeble ran the game without making it look like he knew what he was doing all along.  I leaned into Cellblock.  “You’re going to want to get the guys.  Weeble is going to empty these fucker’s pockets, and I want them to see it.”  Cellblock grinned and darted off into the depths of the bar.  I crossed my arms and put my best Sarge’s scowl on my face as Weeble lined up for his shot on the 1, his last ball.

He struck the cue ball so gently I felt my stomach clench.  There was no way it was going to hit with enough force to roll the 1 into the pocket.   

“Hah!  The little midget don’t have the strength.  He’s all tired out.”  Grand Dragon laughed.

But damned if that cue ball didn’t kiss the 1 just enough to ease it behind the 8 ball and move it towards the pocket.

“It hit the 8!  I saw it hit the 8!”  Grand Dragon was already celebrating. If the 1 ball fell, Weeble would lose his turn based on slop and Redhead would have a clean shot on the 8 for the win.

Of course the 1 never touched the 8.  But that wasn’t going to matter.  Grand Dragon was going to cheat so he didn’t lose his $60.  I watched the 1 ball trickle towards the pocket.

 

And it stopped, blocking the 8.

 

I had a whole new appreciation for Weeble in that moment.  He knew.  He knew there would be bullshit.  He never wanted that 1 ball to fall.  And the cue ball barely moved off the rail.    Weeble set it all up.  I watched him turn to me and smile that fucking bright happy smile of his.  This was the Weeble I wanted to see all the time.

The brothers were filtering in to stand watching around the periphery as Redhead tried to line up on the 11 but the cue ball was too close to the rail to get a clean hit.  He totally scuffed it but somehow managed to send the cue ball in the general direction of the 11 ball which was all it took because it was just a couple inches from the pocket.  Redhead was no true pool player, or he would have missed so that Weeble was left with an impossible shot. Instead, Redhead was going to lose the game without Weeble having to do a thing.

After the 8 ball fell Potter handed the $120 to Weeble with a smile.  The guys were all congratulating Weeble and he looked like he won the lottery.

“You’re not done, midget.”  Grand Dragon shouted.  “You got real lucky, but you gotta play me now.  Double or nothin.”

I stepped forward.  “We just came out to have some fun tonight.  I think we’re done playing pool.  Table’s yours.”  I said.

“You can leave.  But the midget is going to play me.”

I looked around dramatically.  “Play all the midgets you want, Sparky.  I don’t see any here, but knock yourself out in that fantasy world you got going on.”  I turned around to walk back to the guys and something told me he wasn’t going to let me go.  I trusted the feeling I had and half turned to see his hand extended to either grab me or push me.  It didn’t matter which.

“If you still want to finger fuck your sister later with that hand you need to get it the fuck away from me, dickhead.”  I growled.  Okay, so that was probably the wrong way to de-escalate this, but c’mon… I was working with a fucking cave-man here.  What else was going to get through his Neanderthal skull?  If there’s one kind of guy I knew all about, it was this small town fucking cow turd has-been high school hero.  It would be my distinct pleasure to dismantle this racist piece of ignorant shit one vital organ at a time until he cried blood.

“Let’s step outside and say that again, asshole.”  Grand Dragon blustered.

I blinked.  Points for stupidity and an utter lack of awareness.  Double points.  “I’m not going to have a bar fight with you.”  I resumed walking away.

Well fuck.  This wasn’t how I wanted this night to turn out.  But I’d had about enough of these cockweasels.  This wasn’t going to be easy. I took a deep breath, found that calm center and turned around to give him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry about the sister thing.  Look, no one in my group wants to play pool with you.  And I don’t want to fight you.  Let’s just pretend this never happened and get on with our night.”  I offered.

“What about my money?”  He shot back.

“Victor won it.  It was your idea to bet money in the first place.”  It wasn’t looking like he was going to let this go.

“One game.  Same stakes.”  He was really pushing it.

“Do you even have $60?  You had to borrow from your friends the last time.”  He looked at his buddies who didn’t look happy.

“I tell you what, if you win, you get your $60 back.  If Victor wins, you walk away, enjoy your night and we can all just call this a learning experience.”  I offered.

“Fine.”  Grand Dragon grumbled.  I didn’t know why he was grumbling, it was a pretty sweet deal for him.  But, I told myself, Neanderthals can’t math too good so I couldn’t expect higher brain functions like realizing when someone was giving him a gift.

“Great!  Your rack.”  I fake-smiled the words in his direction.

There’s no need to describe what happened.  Weeble broke, then ran the table.  Grand Dragon never got to use his cue stick.  He was angry and in shock.  There was absolutely no luck in what Weeble did.

“Have a great night.”  I said, putting my arm around Weeble and leading him to the other part of the bar where the dance floor was.  The rest of the guys followed us.  “Wow Victor, where did you learn to play like that?”

“I bought a book.  And there was this place all the kids used to hang out called Mr. Z’s Gameroom in a strip mall.  They had eight pool tables and it wasn’t expensive to rent one for a couple hours.  They had all the best arcade games too, Ms. Pac-Man, Galaga, Street Fighter, Golden Axe, like every one of the best.  I’d just get a table and since I was alone different guys would ask if they could play me.  I can’t play too good on a regulation table, it’s too big for me.  But bar tables are easy.  Here’s your money back.”

I took my $60 back from him.  “No shit, you really know how to work the ball, Victor.”

He laughed.  He really was a naturally happy dude.  “I didn’t even do half the tricks I know.”  He grinned.

I wasn’t really a dancing kind of guy, so I just stood off to the side watching the Bravos have fun.  I should have known the Klan wasn’t going to let things go.

I was sipping the drink Potter had brought me keeping tabs on all the Bravos and whether they seemed to be enjoying themselves.  Sleeper was doing his best trying to teach Zeus how to move on the dance floor but it wasn’t going well.  They had a couple girls with them who were trying really hard to bark up the wrong tree.  Even so, I could tell both of my friends were enjoying the attention.  Sleeper knew what they were after, but it was so obvious that Zeus didn’t have a clue.

Cellblock was sweet-talking some pretty thing at the bar, Troll was on the dance floor surprising everyone with his fancy feet…hell I never would have thought he was a good dancer but my man could move.  Overall, half the guys were working their novelty to the local girls and the other half were as awkward as I expected.  On my third scan, I realized I wasn’t tracking Weeble because he was lost in the tall crowd, it was because he just wasn’t anywhere.  I made a circuit of the large dance floor, then went through the door to the lounge area, and finally the game area near the front door.  No Weeble.  I got a cold feeling when I also didn’t see the Klan anywhere.  Bathroom.

I went to the corner in the lounge area where the bathrooms were.  It was still only 2245 so the place wasn’t super packed yet and there wasn’t a line at the bathroom.  I pushed open the door and saw the Grand Dragon had Weeble cornered by the long trough urinal. Victor looked terrified and I wondered why.  Country Cousin-Fucker might be a big boy, but he was a dumb piece of shit and Weeble could handle him with no problems.

“Victor, quit fucking around and kick this inbred fucker’s ass.”  I said, crossing my arms by the door.

“I can’t Andrew.  They might kick me out.”  He seemed completely defeated.  “I’ll just give him his money back like he wants.”

“Stay out of this or I’ll kick your ass too.”  Grand Dragon snarled.

I sighed and ignored his ridiculous empty threat.  “Weeble, the Army won’t kick you out and you won’t leave the Bravos for fighting.  We aren’t on post, and this isn’t another soldier.  None of this is a military matter.  Stand up for yourself and show this piece of shit why we’re the best.”

“Give me my money midget!”

“You have to do it, bud.”  I told Victor.  I kind of wondered where the Grand Dragon’s Klan were, he didn’t seem the type to do anything without his friends.  I moved my foot to wedge the door.  This shouldn’t take long.  “Put him down Weeble.”

Grand Dragon was no trained fighter.  If he had any sense he’d use his longer reach to stay outside of Weeble’s striking range.  Instead, like all idiots who were over confident in their ability he used his size for intimidation.  In a real fight, intimidation was an amateur dependence that only left you open for an attack.  It wasn’t lost on me that Grand Dragon hadn’t even begun smacking Victor around.  Bullies were always reluctant to have a true fight.

“Assmunch… I don’t—“. I didn’t let him finish.

“Fuck him up, Weeble, NOW!”

There’s something to be said for training.  A direct command takes a short cut past the decision making processes and action follows automatically when you’re trained for it.

Now Grand Dragon was somewhere around six feet tall which put him a head taller than Weeble.  That meant nothing.  The sad part of all of it was how casually Weeble moved, grabbing Grand Dragon’s right wrist and smoothly stepping under his arm (size difference advantage superior move) twisting it with an almost gentle force until Grand Dragon was bent over and attempting to turn.  Then Weeble kicked the country boy’s left knee from the side and just like that he collapsed where his chin hit the lip of the trough urinal and he crumpled to the piss splattered floor.

Three seconds, tops.  Weeble released his opponent’s wrist.

“Victor, you can’t ever be afraid to fight.”  I told him.  “Don’t ever take shit from anyone.  You’re always going to have people underestimating you and treating you like you aren’t their equal.  Well you aren’t their equal, you’re better.  And with most guys, it’s only going to take one time of you proving that for them to give you the respect you deserve.  None of us go looking for a fight, but if one comes to us it’s sometimes going to be unavoidable.  You deal with it.  Figure out the consequences later.  Now let’s get out of here.  I figure you earned a drink.”

“Are we just going to leave him there?”  Weeble asked as he walked over to me.

“Yep.  His friends will find him.  Other people will just think he passed out drunk.  And trust me, he’s not going to tell anyone that you kicked his ass without any kind of fight.  He’ll make up some excuse.  Who knows, maybe he’ll get lucky and wake up before anyone sees him laying in piss.”

We left the bathroom.  I checked my watch.  2249.

Guess it was time to round up the guys.  I didn’t want to wait for the last bus… it was going to be full.

Everyone except Potter, Battles and Lenger reluctantly came along.  The Marines and Corpsman were going to stay out, drink, and catch a cab back to base.  It looked like they had some chicks interested.  Potter probably had a sure thing the way the woman was snuggled under his thick arm.  Battles was going to have to wingman it for the chick’s friend but she didn’t look disappointed in second choice even if she wasn’t getting as cozy with him.  Her body language was still hesitant but her facial expressions demonstrated interest.  Frequent smiles, eye contact, that pretense of bashfulness.  Yeah, all Battles had to do was make a move.  Maybe they would be catching that cab back in the morning.

I sat with Weeble on the bus back to Benning.

“You had the most interesting night of all of us, bud.”  I told him, laughing.  “Hey guys, guess what Weeble did?”  I announced to the brothers.

“Besides kicking our ass in pool?  Dude, you’re something else!”  Troll called out.  Weeble smiled big.

“He KO’d that asshole in the bathroom when he tried to make Weeble give him back the money he’d won.”  I told them.

“No shit? Fuck yeah, that’s what he gets for messing with a brother!”  Bootlicker cheered.

I held my hands up with a single finger.  “Put him to sleep in two moves.”

Sleeper got up and clapped a hand on Weeble’s shoulder with a big handsome grin.  “That’s my man!” He congratulated.

“Damn bro, you kicked ass all over the place tonight you fucking badass.”  Chunk called from the back.  “WEEBLE ROCKS!”

The rest of the guys all chimed in with various congratulatory shouts.

“Get up and acknowledge your fans, bro!”  I slapped him on the back.

Weeble stood up on the seat and took a sheepish bow with what I can only describe as a surprised smile of pure happiness.  When he sat back down I said “See?  Don’t ever doubt yourself again.  You belong with this group of idiots.”  I politely ignored the tears that started to form in his grateful eyes.

[daddybear54]

A true leader indeed, the way Assmunch has lined up all the pieces needed to show Weeble how to believe in himself. I just had the biggest grin all over my face when the Bravos were on the bus heading back to base and cheering for Weeble.

[Assmunch]

4 hours ago, daddybear54 said:

A true leader indeed, the way Assmunch has lined up all the pieces needed to show Weeble how to believe in himself. I just had the biggest grin all over my face when the Bravos were on the bus heading back to base and cheering for Weeble.

I’m glad that part made you smile.  Weeble is kinda awesome, he needs to know he is.  One of the best qualities of leadership is seeing opportunities for growth in every situation you can, even the most unfortunate situation. Assmunch does it naturally because he wants everyone to be better.  If he thought Weeble was going to get his ass kicked, he might have taken the guy out himself, but before he did he would have let Weeble try.  Then the celebration on the bus would have been about how Weeble took a beating but still kept fighting, which Assmunch would have explained demonstrated that Weeble was as tough as any of the other Bravos.  And instead of feeling bad about getting his ass kicked, Weeble would have felt like he made it through a gauntlet, and a rite of passage as a man.  That’s just how Assmunch sees things.  I love writing Assmunch chapters so much.  

[laguyinhou]

Fucking awesome chapter, @Assmunch. Thanks again for such a compelling story. 

 

[Assmunch]

Sunday

 

Watching the clock was never good but we’d agreed on 10 a.m. so that’s when I would call.  0958.  The phone in the day room went through the base switchboard and I didn’t feel comfortable talking with Kevin on a line that might be monitored.  It probably wasn’t, but it could be.  Possibility vs. Probability.  I wasn’t paranoid, that was a known possibility on a military base.  That’s something you learn when you grow up as a military brat.  I chuckled at the sudden thought that Dad might have told us that when we were kids so we’d behave and not play around on the house phone.  It seemed more likely that the military would potentially monitor office phones than base housing.  The feeling that I couldn’t call my dad to ask if it was all made up still hit me hard.  We could have a laugh about it, or he’d say ‘go ask your Sergeant.  They love questions like that’. And I’d say ‘That only worked once Dad.  God, Sergeant Keegan ripped me a new one.’  Yeah, my own Dad pranked me in Basic.  Took me a couple days to stop being mad and see it for the joke it was but man was I pissed at him.  I think it was his way of telling me to maybe relax a little, that being super recruit, super serious, follow all the rules Soldier was going to cause me problems.

I still wasn’t going to take the chance with the barracks phone and besides, there were just too many soldiers hanging around to have a relaxed conversation.  So I stood outside the closed bowling alley at a BellSouth payphone rotating Mom’s Sprint Long Distance calling card in my hand counting down the minutes.  The late January morning was cold and gray with an unwelcome gusting breeze that seemed to go through me standing out in the open.  At 30 seconds to 10 I started punching in numbers.

“Building 24 Engineering Lab, please.”  I directed the young sounding guy who picked up.

“Just a sec.”  He replied.  There was a click, and phone ringing.

Kevin picked up right away.  “Four seconds late.”  He said, not even saying hello.  Awfully brave of him to assume it was me calling and not some professor.

“Bite me.  There’s a lot of numbers to punch in, asshole.”  I countered.

“Hey, four seconds is a lifetime in Engineering.  Probably even longer jumping out of a plane.”  I imagined that smirk of his I loved as he said it.

“I miss you.”  I said.

I heard him sigh over the phone.  “I always miss you.  Your leave wasn’t enough time after a year and a half.”

We both let the heartfelt silence hang for a few seconds.  There was no accusation in his statement, nothing to be said that we hadn’t said already.   In those seconds was a recognition that our time together for the next couple years would be short, bittersweet, and never enough.

“So anything exciting happen this week?”  I asked trying to avoid thinking about how we’d hardly ever see each other.

He chuckled.  “Nothing compared to you probably, but we’re having to make up for the lost week because of the storm, which means a ton of homework and reading.  I got my student account for the mainframe, so that’s cool.  We have to use this FORTRAN program for my Structural Principles class.  And we have an email address at the school.  Do you have electronic mail?  You could send me letters.”

“Like letters in the computer?  And the rest of that sounded like you made up a bunch of words.”

He laughed.  “It’s real words, dude.  Yes, email is in the computer.  Right now it’s mostly government and universities, but you need a mailbox on a mainframe and a way to log in.”  He explained.

“I can’t see the Army ever letting us on some sensitive military mainframe.  At my old unit we had a personal computer in the command offices we could get permission to use if we needed to write something up but there was no access to a mainframe.”

“Well that sucks.  This summer I’m going to take a Computers for Engineering course.  It’s all going to be computers pretty soon.”

I admit I was a little jealous for the first time.  It wasn’t that I was interested in computers like my jock nerd boyfriend, it was just that he was seeing the world on the cutting edge of technology while I was learning skills that had hardly changed since WWII.  Wanker and Weeble had more experience with technology than I would probably ever see.  I wouldn’t trade being Infantry for the world, but it would be nice to learn some other stuff too.

“How are you doing in Track?”  I wondered.

I could almost see him shrug.  “You know, workout, train, run.  My time in the hundred is better.  And my vertical increased by two inches.  I should do really well at Winter Nationals in March.”

I smiled.  “You’ll be great, man.  I wish I could see it.”

“Me too. So what about you?”  He asked.  “You finally jumping out of a plane this week?”

“Yep.  I’m sure it’ll be intense, but I’m ready.”

“Are you nervous?  I’d be pissing my pants.”  He said.  I doubted that, Kevin didn’t have a problem in the self confidence department.

“A little, but not because of the jump. I’m really excited about that part. I just want to do it right.  I actually can’t wait to step out that door.”  I explained.

I heard him laugh again.  “Better you than me, babe.  I wish I could be there to watch you and your buddies do it.  See my totally fine Army boyfriend float down and land.”

It was my turn to laugh.  “Float.  I wish it was floating.  You hit pretty hard.  They showed us a video tape in class one day of all these landings.  It’s not like the movies.  Imagine jumping off the roof of your house.  Sometimes you get lucky and you’re into the wind, if there’s wind, and the right amount.  Then you just touch down.  We’re still supposed to collapse and roll though.  But most of the time it’s not gentle at all.”

“Well shit.  Don’t break anything.”  Then he asked the same thing he’d asked the last two times I called.  “Any idea when you can get leave?”

I felt a little bad.  It wasn’t that I didn’t think about Kevin.  It was just there wasn’t a lot of time to daydream about when I could see him next.  I’d already done the math in my head and the soonest I could figure would be a couple months minimum.  I saw two possibilities - One, after Jump School I got a permanent duty assignment somewhere and would have to put in some time before I was permitted any leave.  And second, they would send us on to Ranger School which was sixty one days, then I would receive a permanent duty assignment, have to wait, then submit my request.  I had plenty of leave accumulated, but depending on my unit and duty I may not be able to take it when I wanted.  “I’m not sure.  I’ll let you know next week after I finish here what the possibilities are.”

He didn’t reply right away.  That brain of his. Kevin was the only person I knew who crunched stuff in his head ALL the time.  So I waited. When ten seconds went by in silence, I knew this wasn’t the usual gear turning. He had something important on his mind. Just sitting silent on the phone knowing he was on the other end felt good, like we were connected and closer than six states apart.  Or was it seven?

“I know it’s only been a couple weeks, Tom.  But I really miss you bad sometimes.  And I don’t want to act like some lovesick girl, but I feel like some lovesick girl.  Most of me knows and understands you have to do this, and focus on your training, and everything is up in the air right now, but I can’t help the other part of me that just wants to be with you.  And I don’t want to drop everything here even if I had the money to travel.  It’s just hard, you know?”

I closed my eyes and leaned against the payphone enclosure.  “Yeah.  Mostly I try not to think about it, baby.  And it sucks that we just got back together and then separated again. I’m not finished with you, Kevin.  I don’t think I ever will be.  So I don’t think about it so it won’t hurt so much not being able to hold you. And now that Sleeper and Zeus are a thing, I wish all the time that you could be here with me, doing all this by my side like they get to do.  We’d have so much fun.”

“I think of that sometimes too - what it would be like if you went to school here, we could go on dates, do homework or read together.  God that sounds so stupid, but we could do anything…just do it together.”

I smiled.  “That doesn’t sound stupid at all.  It sounds sweet, and romantic.    And exactly what I would like - watching you do my homework and watching you read.”

That made him laugh, and it sent a jolt of happiness through me.  “God, you’d owe me so many blowjobs, I’d make sure you were so deep in blowjob debt you couldn’t ever leave me.”  He joked.

And that made ME laugh.  “News flash hot stuff…You’re not getting rid of me.  One of us is always going to owe the other blowjobs.  I think you still owe me three.”

“Three?  How’d I rack up three?  I think it’s you who owes me two.”

“Hmmm…” I mused.  “I’m not sure, I just know it’s three for me.”

“You just made that up.”  He accused.

“Well now it’s four.”

“Four?  How is this debt blowjob system going to work if you just throw another one on the pile whenever you want?  That’s no system of fair trade.”

“Well, the exchange rate is pretty favorable for you. If you want to exchange your blowjobs for fucking me, I’ll cancel two blowjobs for every fuck.”

“Hmmmm…”. He mocked me.  I know he was mocking me.  “Do multiple orgasms count as a single fuck?  Or is it just one fuck per orgasm, because that doesn’t sound like a good trade at all for you.  And what’s the conversion rate for me?”

“You just worry about paying off your debt.  You’re up to six now.  And no, you don’t get to count a fuck for every time you shoot a load in me.  If your thick sexy cock doesn’t leave my ass, that counts as a single fuck no matter how many times you cum.”  I thought I was doing pretty good making this up as I went.  Well, it may have been completely made up on the spot, but I was liking the possibilities.

“Fuck Tom, you have my dick leaking.  I’m gonna wreck your tight grunt hole then next time I see you.  The first one’s going to be rough, just like you like it.  I mean, really rough.  I have a lot of pent up frustration to take out on your hot ass.”  His voice had lowered to a sexy, throaty growl that had my entire body flushing with heat.

“Fuck yeah.”  I said.  “My dick is so hard right now babe.  I want you to make it hurt so good.”  God, I hadn’t cum in two weeks and I could pop so easy right now.

“Yeah?” He said with just the right amount of cocky brutality, a derisive sneer in his voice. “You gonna beg for it?  Smack you around a little bit before I jam it up your ass to make you scream like a little bitch?  Huh?  Is that what my little soldier wants?”

“Yes sir.  This Private needs to know his place, sir. Jam your hot cock all the way in balls deep.”  This Kevin turned me on like crazy.  He was so quiet and passive ordinarily, but became a dominant and dirty rutting beast sexually.  It was such a turn on knowing I brought it out in him and that he loved it as much as I did and that his usual laid back relaxed personality could change so drastically into this dangerous animal.

His answering growl sounded like a mix between a lion’s purr and a dog’s warning, long, low and filled with violent potential.   I felt a thrilling jolt go straight to my dick and my shitter twitched.  That sound made me want to get on my hands and knees and pull my sweats down to my thighs for him right then.  Fucking hell.

“I’m gonna pin you down and rail you so deep and hard your dick will squirt every time I fuck into you.  I might have to tie you up while I use your hole so you can’t move or touch yourself.  I’ll just bite down on your neck to keep you still.

Fuck… I was on the verge of shooting in my pants.  “I’ll do whatever you want, sir.” I said, taking shorter and shorter breaths.

He chuckled.  “Sounds like the little straight soldier boy is gonna cum in his pants.  Do i need to smack you?  You can’t control yourself?  Just the thought of my hard throbbing meat wrecking your sweet hungry cunt makes you want to shoot?  Maybe I need to yank and twist your nutsack before I smack you in your handsome face?

“Fuck, Kev…Kev…shit…”. I barely yanked the front of my sweats down as my cock, with a fucking mind of its own, started spewing jizz all over the sidewalk.  I didn’t even touch it.  Fucking spurt after spurt in regular continuous jets like some cum dispenser filling jizz bottles at the hot nut factory in Ballcream, New Jersey.  Goddamn.  I was hoarsely grunting ‘I love you, I love you, you beautiful fucker, I love you so much.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m gonna cum.  Oh fuck….Jesus I want to fuck it into you so bad.”  He was grunting and gasping over the phone right behind me.

I flicked my dick with a shake to get the last drops of cum off before quickly pulling the waistband of my sweats back up.  “I love it when you call me soldier boy.”  I confessed in between deep breaths. Something about how he said it with both admiration and belittlement made my insides go all weak and fluttery.  I was HIS soldier boy and belonging to him was a special type of thrill, but what escalated it into the realm of sexual heat was how he claimed me as his soldier boy because it turned him on.  Like I was his favorite toy to play with.  Holy shit he flipped my dick switch like no one else.  “I’m coming to see you as soon as I can, baby.”

“I can’t wait, babe.”  He replied.  “I love you, Tom.  I can’t wait to kiss you again.” He said softly.  He said the word ‘kiss’ just like he kissed me.  Like The Kiss.

That almost unmanned me into a weepy mess.  His beautiful lips.  There were so many things about him that I couldn’t put into any order of importance.  His strong masculine jaw.  His grey flannel eyes.  His soft sensuous lips.  His incredible long thick hair.  That fucking comfortable meaty thick powerful body that was transformed into an athletic masterpiece that would take Michaelangelo to do it justice.  Then there was his love for me.  How he always made me feel like I was the center of his universe.  His strength now both physical and emotional.  With him behind me everything felt so easy.  Life ahead was going to be so amazing with him.  I felt everything inside me settle into a quiescent calm, like I had found an indisputable truth of self.  This was it…this was not some place he took me when he pulled me in with his eyes, or his kiss, I didn’t have to go anywhere inside, didn’t need the place where there was no me to feel it.  It was so easy, I just needed to open myself and accept that I was his.  The distinction may seem minor, even irrelevant but at the bedrock foundation of my soul I would never be ‘ME’ without him.  I suddenly saw us with a clarity that made my heart beat with joy and relief.  Fuck, it was a brutal shock to realize my heart was so relieved that I finally connected the right dots in my traitorous head and now they were on the same page.  What the fuck was I thinking the last 2 years?  Oh God, I would never forgive my brain for that betrayal.  I could have loved this beautiful man like he deserved since the day I met him.  I could have saved him the pain and heartbreak I’d so cruelly caused both him and myself.  My fucking brain was so shitty and selfish.

“Tom?”  Kevin asked, uncertainty filling his words.  “You still there?”

I didn’t realize I had been quiet so long.  “Yeah. I just realized how much you mean to me, and how much time I wasted.” I said with a shaky voice.  “You’re everything Kevin.  I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you.  I promise.  I love you.  I want every Kiss you have.”

 

**************

WEEBLE

 

 

The guy at the gym kept looking at him, which was fine and all, because the guy was pretty good looking, but Weeble was going to stick to his decision not to mess around with guys on post.  And that time in the snow shelter in Germany, he wanted to head behind the curtain so bad but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  If he lost the respect of the Bravos he’d do whatever it took to get himself booted. There was just going to have to be a different set of rules for him than there was for others like Wanker or Puta.

Besides, he didn’t know the guy.  He couldn’t take the chance.  Weeble focused on the rest of his workout and chose to mostly ignore the looks he was getting from the guy.

As he was walking out the main door he felt someone running up behind him, so he didn’t release the door so it wouldn’t slam shut in the guy’s face.  He glanced back.  It was the guy who had been staring at him.

“Thanks man.”  He said to Weeble.

Weeble gave him a smile, even though he didn’t feel like encouraging whatever the guy intended.  It was probably nothing.  “Sure.”  He replied.

“You stationed here?” The blonde asked while keeping up with Weeble who was continuing to walk.

“Jump School.  Hey look, I don’t got a lot of time, I gotta get back.  Gotta clean the barracks.”  He said trying to avoid whatever this was.

The guy wasn’t taking the hint.  “I’ll walk with you.”  He was about 5’10”, maybe 160.  Not a big guy, but he did have those squinty eyes and prominent nose Weeble found handsome. Even if he was more Weeble’s type with bigger muscles he wouldn’t have chanced it.

“I’m gonna run.  You know how Jump School is, run everywhere.” Weeble tried again.

The guy’s smile dropped.  “Yeah.  See you around, I guess.”

“Sure.”  Weeble said just as he kicked up into run.  He didn’t take a look behind him in his desire to avoid the awkward interaction.

 

The run back was a great warm down from his workout and as he passed the last building before the barracks he felt pretty good.  Maybe Assmunch, Sleeper and Zeus would be around.  He’d been thinking during his workout that he could trust Andrew and if they had a minute he would tell him the other stuff.  It would feel good to get it out.  Assmunch didn’t seem like he had any problem with Wanker or Puta, he treated them just like he always had.  He decided he would see what Assmunch said about telling the other guys and he could help him figure it out.  For the first time in months he felt like he could really make it in the Army, and everything was going to be so much better.  He did have cleaning to do before chow time but that would only take a couple hours. Now that all the randoms were gone who only came to Airborne for the achievement award the job of keeping up barracks discipline should be more evenly distributed.  Petty Officer Lenger was the Alpha Company Leader for our group because he held the highest rank, but he seemed to defer to Lance Corporal Potter to actually keep the randoms in line.  Potter mostly didn’t interfere with Assmunch handling the Bravos but he didn’t seem to have any problem being an asshole to the randoms to get their asses moving.  During Ground Week he’d had to sort out a few attitudes for Lenger.  Once the uncooperative ones got the message Potter and Battles were going to sabotage them at every turn which resulted in the Sergeants Airborne dosing out punishment of pushups or a run, or especially harsh training they began doing what was required.  He actually saw Potter take a shit in one guy’s boot.  Like he’d practiced it a hundred times he walked casually over to the guy’s bunk where he’d left his boots while he went to take a shower, dropped his pants, squatted, and dropped a steaming log perfectly aimed down the neck of the boot.  The whole thing took about five seconds. That was one of the fun things about the military - holding your shit and learning how to take a fast dump when you finally had a small window of opportunity.  Weeble thought it was super hilarious the way Potter smiled at the guy in the next bunk who was looking at him stunned.  Potter just smiled and said ‘How’s it going?’ As if he was just sitting down to have a beer.  Potter stood back up pulling his pants with him, snugged his belt and walked away.  He liked Potter and Battles.  He thought they were both super fine.  And really nice guys once you got to know them.  Potter didn’t care that everyone knew he did that, he wasn’t afraid the guy would have any way to get back at him and it did send a pretty strong message.  First rule you learn as a fresh Boot - watch your stuff and if you can’t, have your buddy watch your stuff.  Well, maybe not the first rule, Weeble thought, but definitely one of the important ones.

Weeble was still silently laughing at the memory when he was blindsided from the left.  He went down hard, bouncing in the dirt to the right of the sidewalk.  Before he could recover, he had a knee on his neck.

“Get the cuffs on him.”  He heard.  “Quick, before anyone comes.”

Weeble tried to kick and stuggle, but the guy on his neck was using his full weight.  He felt increased pressure bear down, choking off his air and blood as the guy leaned down.  “You should have given it up willingly.  I would have made sure you enjoyed it, been real nice about it.”  He blacked out just after he felt the handcuffs click.

He came to riding in the vehicle’s backseat.   His two attackers were in the front.  One of them was the guy from the gym.  The other was in uniform and he could see an MP patch.

“You got a good one this time Barnell.”  The other guy said.

“Yeah, he looks like a kid, fucking prime.”  Weeble felt a wave of nausea wash over him.  “Cuffs almost didn’t fit.  Wish we had more time, I have duty at 1400.  He awake yet?”  Weeble closed his eyes.

“Still out, but it won’t be long.  Let’s use the maintenance shed over by the Armory.  I can’t be gone long either.”

It didn’t take much to connect the dots and Weeble felt a panic start to boil up.  His hands were cuffed behind his back, the metal rings so tight it felt like they were cutting into his skin.  He couldn’t see any way out of this.

He was still trying to come up with a plan, maybe swing around and kick the driver in the head, force a crash, hope they were too out of it to stop him from getting away.  Kick the back window out and try to get out before they could grab him?  He’d have to go head first, probably land on his head jumping out and they were driving too fast for him to survive that without injury, especially on pavement.  And even if he did, getting up to run away fast enough was not going to be possible with his hands cuffed.

The vehicle stopped before he could come up with a good plan, and alongside the panic he felt a crushing sense of defeat.

“Get the door open before we get him out.”  Barnell said. In under a minute they pulled him from the vehicle.  He struggled, trying to writhe out of their grasp, but Barnell gave him a hard knee to the face as he hung face down with Barnell’s arm hooked between his cuffed wrists and the other guy pinning his ankles together under his arm.  The position was agonizing, almost pulling his shoulders out of their sockets above him.

“Please don’t, guys.  I won’t tell anyone, just let me go.”  He pleaded, close to tears.

“Maybe we’ll let you go when we’re done.  Maybe we’ll just shoot you in the head and throw you into one of the craters on the artillery range and cover your body with a little dirt.  You’ll end up in so many pieces no one will ever know what happened to you.”  Barnell said calmly as he threw Weeble to the dusty concrete floor of the shed.

The logical possibility sent a chilling cold throughout Weeble’s small frame. “I won’t tell.  I won’t tell.  I promise.” He sobbed, the tears bursting out beyond his control.  “Please don’t kill me.  Please.”  He whimpered. Weeble didn’t want to die.  He didn’t want this to be his last memory.

“Jesus you’re such a fucking baby. You’re pathetic.”  Barnell said, giving Weeble a heavy kick in the side.  “Let’s do him like the last one.  That shelf worked great.”

Weeble saw the two clear a few items off the middle plywood shelf against the wall.  The open shelving was made from lumber and plywood, three shelves high with the middle one being waist high.  They picked him up and shoved him through the end of the shelf so his chest was down on the plywood and his legs were hanging off the end.  His feet couldn’t touch the ground.  Barnell yanked his wrists up and forced the cuffs over a hook that held a looped extension cord so his arms were suspended above and behind him.  He felt his hands go numb.

Then he felt his sweats pulled down to his thighs as Barnell exposed his ass.  The other guy grabbed Weeble’s head and pulled it to the edge of the front of the shelf.  “Open up.  Suck Daddy’s dick.”  The guy said as he unzipped and fished his already hard cock out of the fly of his BDU’s.

Weeble couldn’t see any choice but to do exactly what they wanted so he opened up his lips for the 6 inch dick.  “That’s a good boy.  You be a good boy for Daddy and keep your teeth off it.  If you’re a good boy Daddy will give you a delicious milkshake.”

He felt Barnell pull his asscheeks apart and heard him hack up and spit a wad in the crack of his ass.  Then he felt the head of Barnell’s dick swipe across the wetness before pressing against his hole.  “Fuck, I hope he’s cherry.”  Barnell said.  “I love Grunt cherry.  Legs here is gonna graduate from Jump On My Dick school today.  Gonna get them red wings.  You cherry Legs?  Any of your buddies been up this pretty little boy hole?”

Weeble couldn’t answer with the dick fucking in and out of his mouth.  He didn’t know if he should.  He didn’t know if Barnell really wanted him to answer.

A knee crashing into his nuts made him pull off the dick in his mouth, yell out in pain and sob even more.  “Fucking answer me you stupid fucking piece of shit!”

“No!”  He whimpered through his tears.  Almost as soon as he said it the other guy forced his dick back in between his lips.

“Hell yeah!”  Barnell celebrated as he thrust his cock with full force up inside Weeble’s ass, balls deep on the first entry.  Weeble yelled out again as a stabbing overwhelming pain radiated out from his asshole across his entire lower body.  An involuntary seizure forced his muscles to cramp.

“AHHH!   NO!  STOP!  AHHHHHHHHHH PLEASE” Weeble pleaded.

“Fuck yeah, buddy!  Teach this little bitch how to be all he can be.”  The guy at his head encouraged. “If he ain’t bleedin’ you ain’t tryin’. Get my dick back in your mouth bitch.  Daddy ain’t done with you.”

Barnell withdrew his dick completely, then punched it back in violently, sending another wave of excruciating pain through Weeble’s body.  The other guy was holding Weeble’s head now in a strong grip, fucking his mouth with equally violent thrusts that were stabbing the back of Weeble’s throat.  Weeble choked in a long gag and the guy yanked his dick out and stepped back suddenly just as Weeble vomited his breakfast.

“Fuck, I love that part.  Like I made him cum from his throat.  So fucking hot.”  The guy said, stepping carefully around the pool of vomit on the floor.  Some of it never made it beyond the plywood shelf, and he grabbed Weeble’s head again and slid his face into the puke so his mouth was off the edge.  “Daddy’s gonna make you cum again, little boy.”  He said as he pushed his dick back in.

Barnell was still stabbing with his dick, busting through Weeble’s bloody ring over and over again, grunting with effort and mumbling “hot little boy hole.” Over and over again.

Weeble was lost in the pain and torture.  The dick in his mouth forced up several volleys of putrid vomit, and each time the guy stepped back to watch it spew until Weeble only had dry heaves left.  The guy didn’t pull out after that, watching Weeble’s tiny trapped body jerk with every empty choking gag.

The amount of tears a man can cry is infinite and never ending.  One tear for every interminable mile you fall down into the hole of despair that swallows the spark of your soul and smothers it with a darkness so black it eats the happiness that sustains you.  Even the worst pain refuses to follow a man into that well of empty nothingness.  Weeble went away.

[daddybear54]

What a rollercoaster ride. One minute wanting to cum right along with Tom and Kev in that phone call and the next wanting to vomit myself as those two maniacs raped Weeble. Powerful as hell, but definitely not comfortable reading.

[Assmunch]

1 hour ago, daddybear54 said:

What a rollercoaster ride. One minute wanting to cum right along with Tom and Kev in that phone call and the next wanting to vomit myself as those two maniacs raped Weeble. Powerful as hell, but definitely not comfortable reading.

Yeah, I know.  It was NOT easy to write.  While I wanted a longer chapter, I couldn’t drag the rape out.    I really just couldn’t.  😞

[daddybear54]

3 hours ago, Assmunch said:

Yeah, I know.  It was NOT easy to write.  While I wanted a longer chapter, I couldn’t drag the rape out.    I really just couldn’t.  

This is one of those times that this site needs a hug emoji.

[laguyinhou]

Thanks for the chapter. Excellent writing as always. 

[backpackguy]

Wow Assmunch...I was floating on the clouds with Tom and Kevin...such powerful writing and the emotion...caused me to weep uncontrollably with love for both of the guys!! In mid-paragraph I ran into the bed room where my partner was taking an afternoon nap, hugged him while crying my eyes out and professed my love for him...like Tom and Kevin, I am not "ME" unless it is "US."  And then Weebles savage rape...what a roller coaster ride...I identify with Weeble as well since I am a small guy..5'5"...I can relate to his to his uneasy feelings of inadequicy because of his size...Keep up the GREAT work...LOVE this story!!!!😍

[Assmunch]

5 hours ago, backpackguy said:

Wow Assmunch...I was floating on the clouds with Tom and Kevin...such powerful writing and the emotion...caused me to weep uncontrollably with love for both of the guys!! In mid-paragraph I ran into the bed room where my partner was taking an afternoon nap, hugged him while crying my eyes out and professed my love for him...like Tom and Kevin, I am not "ME" unless it is "US."  And then Weebles savage rape...what a roller coaster ride...I identify with Weeble as well since I am a small guy..5'5"...I can relate to his to his uneasy feelings of inadequicy because of his size...Keep up the GREAT work...LOVE this story!!!!😍

Thanks backpackguy.  As much as I planned Weeble’s trauma, it still took a lot to actually write it and I put it off all week.  Personally, I have a special place in my heart for the smaller guys, my husband is also 5’5” and just as happy and determined as Weeble.  Back then, he had no meat on him at all. He’s told me stories of when he was in the Army and the guys in his unit were heroes in his eyes but what that really says to me was how he didn’t feel like he was really one of them, a hero himself.  He was always looking up at them.   When he reconnected with many of them 20 something years later, it was a huge surprise to him that they considered him like a brother, as an equal.  The overnight change in him and his confidence because of that one realization was amazing to see.  He loved his time in the Army, and when he got booted it really crushed him.  It seemed to me like getting booted reinforced his belief that he didn’t belong there.  Now I have to put Weeble back together.  Which will be a far more enjoyable task.