The Marine and the Troll Under The Bridge

[DevilDawg]

The Marine and the Troll Under The Bridge 7-31-2025

I have been trying to find the courage to post this one for a long time, It is one of the reasons I was just a Breeding Zone Lurker/Reader and not a full user. For those who have liked my Sticky Situation in another forum, this is darker. Many may not like it, Most Vets will recognize the shadows that haunt us. Rest assured that this is a work of fiction with some landmarks and truisms tossed in. However, my hesitation in posting is because this could have very well happened to me. It is not a happy fantasy cum true. Fair Warning, if you suffer from Military PTSD I recommend you skip it for the next pozzing story.

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Mike here, 21Years old, 5’11” when I stretch, 28” waist,160 Lbs. and a 7 inch cut dick and I am a Gay Marine. When I say gay, I mean in the spectrum of things, I am pretty damn gay. Or as gay as a virgin can be. In Highschool, I had eventually realized I was gay like my Uncle who at that time was also pretty damn gay. I mean I tried doing the traditional route, I dated girls in Highschool but never seemed to get as lucky as my peers, mostly it was a drain on my poor wallet. It had occurred to me that my friends might be fudging their scorecards some, but I had nothing to measure against. Marine Corps Bootcamp was not a discovery risk. Plenty of gay Recruits have earned their EGA. Boot Camp – East Coast/West Coast is pretty regimented down to 5 minute timeslices. If a Recruit has time to pop a Boner, the Senior Drill Instructor is letting his Junior DIs slack off. My uncle tells me that back in the day, female Beautiful Alluring Marines unofficially known as BAMs were only trained at PI, but then everything changed. Females were still taught makeup appropriate for the uniform, but they were expected to Shoot (Every Marine A Rifleman) regardless of sex, and both the Boot Camps in Hollywood and PI were machines that instructed Recruits in the Core Fundamentals of the Corps: Honor, Bravery, GUNG HO/Pulling Together, Combat Basics all while instilling the foundation of never leaving a Comrade Behind. Gung Ho was lifted from the Chinese, Semper Fidelis was the bedrock Prejudice of color were mostly expelled in WWII around the timeframe after Iwo. One color Mattered and it was Green (or) the flip side of that was Khaki. Old Corps Marines might dimly recall the mantra of Green Side Out, Brown side out, run in circles scream and shout. The ITV network at bootcamp was always streaming Sands of IWO Jima so that by the time a recruit graduates and goes to additional schooling or the Fleet, they have seen it around 40 times.

Aviation fields were integrated with Naval Training at NAS Pensacola if you had spunk, or were otherwise worthy, and failed a technical course, you might be dropped to a less technically demanding track like Avionics would drop back to Aviation Electrical, Aircraft Engine Mechanic might drop to Airframes and Structures so as to not waste the core aviation training you already had. Mechanics who were situationally aware at the line level units were evaluated for Crew Chief or Door Gunner Duty.

It was as a Crew Chief, my soul died. I had seen combat, I had even benefited from counselling during and after combat. I had lost Battle Buddies and Warrior Brothers, it was  a heavy burden. Some peers had committed suicide, prevention screening was heightened. Then the event that changed my life for the worse. During a training mission a catastrophic failure which prevented any real effort to Auto-Rotate dumped 4 of us and a UH-1N into Davy Jones’ Locker. Most Marines get Water Survival Qualified at least once. Aviation crew personnel in the Marines and the Navy are required to go through the Dunker Trainer. If successfully completed, you have a 9 in 10 chance of exiting a water crash if you retain consciousness during the initial ditch. I was knocked so hard I cracked my helmet but I was conscious enough to take a deep breath and try to move towards the front pilot in command a copilot seats as the sea rushed in but the flooding and the increasing darkness fuzzed my awareness. Then I was being pulled out backwards by my flight vest and broached the surface sputtering with the other surviving crew member Joe Richwalski who said “at least I don’t have to do Mouth to Mouth” as he inflated my flotation bladder in the vest took another deep breath and dove down, his vest remaining uninflated. I dipped my aching head and tried to peer though the murk. I was panicked but mechanically preparing to deflate my vest and dive when Joe again broached the surface. We can’t reach them and turned his face away but dove again in case he was wrong. The Rescue was pretty quick during combat or training – if a tracked flight goes off grid, the response is ASAP. My debrief and report got Joe cited with a Meritorious Service Medal and my head and orthopedic injuries got me transferred from flight status to medical holding.

Segregation of serious Combat Wounded Marines and those who suffer an injury as a line of duty incident is routine. If a Marine just back from deployment wraps their Motorcycle around a telephone pole while drunk, that is not usually a Line Of Duty injury. The fact that it was a mech failure of equipment with loss of life during operations training meant I was re slotted into a billet until I could be medically stabilized, evaluated and potentially medically discharged. My new Duty Station assignment was published, I was attached to Marine Barracks Annex, Washington DC. Because I had done band and music in High School, and Sound/Theater during the same period, by oddball chance I was slotted into a ‘Roadie’ billet supporting the Marine Orchestra. The in-brief/Welcome Aboard was typical but some of the specifics were non-standard. The extra decorum expected of Marines in the Nations Capitol, and the Rocks and Shoals that would get us into instant trouble. A whole list of historical infractions such as drunk Marines trying (and sometimes succeeding in the old days) of climbing the Whitehouse Fence; right down to Drunk and Disorderly; or the catchall ‘Conduct Unbecoming A Marine”. I had been low, now I was very low.

Then I learned my Uncle had died. While I had affection for my parents, somehow, I loved my Uncle more. The whispers not from my parents but from the cousins was that it involved complications from AIDS or HIV. Knowing my attraction towards men, and knowing the risks, the last time I spoke to my Uncle I had asked him to take my virginity. His response after a pause, Oh Mike, I love you like you were my own son. I could not possibly, and I heard something unintelligible, and he hung up. When I came back from the funeral, I still had some leave and I went on a bender. The Gayborhood on East Capitol Street that my Uncle had once described was gone. Remington’s, Mr. Henry’s, all gone. However, there were still plenty of bars and about 01:30 in the morning, I realized as they prepped for last call that I was too broke for a hotel, and too drunk to successfully bluff my way back through the security gate.

   This may be redundant for Vets who know it already, but perhaps for a few it will bring into focus just how much of a burden Marines can carry. The Marine Corps was born in a Bar so a drunk marine is nothing new. I had tied one on trying to anesthetize my mind from the pain of compounded loss. To add to my woes, it started raining, then pouring rain. I huddled under one of the overpasses in despair. I was as wary as I could be but even if I got rolled/robbed they would not get much. The ever-present homeless population noticed the high and tight haircut and most kept to their selected spots but one said to scoot up the underpass slope – the chilly wind is not so bad there. He said his name was Leo and I told him my name was Mike. Leo said Marine Right? I replied yes. Leo said thank you for your service. I hung my head. What’s wrong? I assure you are not the first Marine to pause under this shelter and you won’t be the last.

In my drunken state, I started recounting my story providing what a sober mike would realize was too much information. I fell asleep and became wakeful with some wonderful feelings. The rain was still pounding, my dick was out. Had Leo been blowing me? My erection had never been this hard even when jacking off and watching porn. I had no other experience to compare it to. I started buttoning up and Leo said no worries, just helping out a shipmate. I looked a silent question in his direction. ’82 he said after a bit, just before the Marine Barracks was attacked. Friends of mine went ashore from the LHAs for a card game. He leaned back over and unbuttoned my fly while keeping a wary eye on my reactions. I was silent except for a gasp as he took me into his mouth. My erection reappeared and within a short few seconds I blew a huge load down his throat and he swallowed and swallowed, suckling for a while. He must have kept a little because he pulled out a skoal can and hawked a gob into it setting it aside. He said roll over and I hesitantly complied. He pulled my jeans and shorts down and started licking my hole. I was paralyzed with fear and lust Fight or Flight did not even occur to me. My gasps were followed by groans as his tongue entered my anus. With the chill air, I felt warm and Rosy. My anus was relaxed from beer and Leo’s tongue. He stopped and moved up inserting a finger, then two, then three. He spat on my hole and I heard the skol can lid drop as he added my cum to my ass. I shuddered. He entered and not with a finger this time. The initial entry was sharp, but I was calm, and still drunk but aware. As my hole relaxed he went deeper, he was rubbing my love nut and every time my ass would clench he would sigh. Eventually he picked up the pace and his dick expanded further blowing a definite series of cum spirts up my ass. As he deflated and withdrew, he continued his soothing talk. Mike, I’m sure your Uncle would have eventually come around. Here is the gift he did not have the opportunity to give you. I’m sure he would have helped out a shipmate eventually. After all, we are all family now. Share it in good faith, you will join tour Uncle and Brothers in Arms soon enough….

…not the end….

[bbasslover79]

Really like Your writing style! Eager to read what’s to come. 

[DevilDawg]

Authors note: I appreciate the feedback, I really do. I also appreciate the back channel pep talks. Originally, The Marine and the Troll was going to be one part. I was concerned that the tragedies were not going to be tight enough and the sexual encounter inadequate. It seemed to be writing itself and I left the end open - when I saw some of the comments, I started on a part 2. I was annoyed at myself in that with multiple proofing’s typos still made it in the original. My only defense is that English was not my first language. I grew up speaking Hillbilly and was publicly educated.

For input, I was going to solicit input as a reply to this main thread. As a fan of many genres, a fictional simile that comes to mind is the Big Bang Episode where Sheldon breaks his new in box toy and swaps it with Leonard’s duplicate toy. His ethical conscience is represented by a 6 inch Spock and his guilty conscience is represented by a Gorn. It illustrates my absurd fear of breaking the story and being double fisted by a live long and prosper Spock hand side by side with a Gorn claw. On the flip side, not continuing would be a surrender which is against my nature. So, if you want me to continue, it will cum.

[Mvillebottom]

Absolutely, please continue!!  Love what you shared and look forward to reading more of your work

[DevilDawg]

5 hours ago, Mvillebottom said:

Absolutely, please continue!!  Love what you shared and look forward to reading more of your work

Secretly, I was hoping someone would say this. It would not be the first time I broke something, taking it out of the box, but then played with the box. If anyone would like to play with my box it is open and available. OK,  the next section is in work.

The first section amazed me since it just flowed. If it does break the story, you can always treat it like Indiana Jones 2 or 4 and fondly remember 1 and 3 even if Amy Farrah Fowler and her writers distracted us from our fond Indy favorites no matter which movie.

 

[DevilDawg]

OK, Shot!

Fair Warning, if you suffer from Military PTSD I recommend you skip it for the next pozzing story. Out.

“After all, we are all family now. Share it in good faith, you will join your Uncle and Brothers in Arms soon enough”….

As Leo moved aside, another Troll was ready to enter. I was stunned, certainly, thrilled, yes, aware of sensations I never thought had existed. As I was bred without vocal or physical complaints by myself or objections from the Marine inside. Leo lounged back and watched the show. He started what sounded like a practiced briefing. How many times had this happened? “Marine, you will remember some of what I say, but you will never forget the throbbing manhood in your hole as you absorb my spunk along with my neighbors. We are sympathetic, but we have needs. You seem to have some needs as well. You have been through some shit that’s for certain. A lot of people would have given up when faced with the challenges you have survived. You might have thought about ending it, but you are here so you are a stubborn Marine, the very best kind, the kind that does not give up. You think Recruit Training and the Crucible were tough? That SERE School was tough? The Crucible of life does not grade on a 4.0/4.0 scale; it is an off and on binary grade of pass/fail; surrender-fail/success-joy. Your Uncle would not like it if you just gave up would he”? I shook my head as the neighbor finished, and I had another dick pumping my ass. Leo continued –“Right now, you are sleep deprived, hung over, maybe still a little drunk. When you get back to your billet, shower and get some sack time there will be regrets about the choices you have made. That is natural. If you do have regrets, there are several resources on the card I put in your pocket. You will probably take that path. Just some advice, you do not want a Corpsman, or Squid Doc seeing that ass for a while, So the 1st resource on the list is the one I would try first. You need to ask them for PEP within 72 hours. Myself, I expect you will start PEP, then probably throw away the bottle and be back for a recharge”. I took advantage of Leo’s pause to mumble “Harder”! To my Impaler. Leo continued “Yes a lot of Marines are bossy bottoms. Devon, are you going to comply with his request”? “Nope” the owner of the BBC thrusting into me replied.  “Sir! Harder Please Sir”? I corrected. Devon replied “Sure thing since you asked nicely” and started pounding me upslope. As the conga line continued, it started getting light. Leo said “Alright let’s wrap this up. Don’t want to startle a dog walker”. He handed me a rag and instructed me to not wipe with it but shove it up my gape so I would not leave a trail to the sally gate. I CAC’d in through the Man-Portal at the gate and rushed to the billets and the Head. Part of me wanted to keep it in, part of me was saying if you do so, you will have a visible accident later. I flipped a mental coin and pushed out while on the toilet. A rush of murky stuff, gobs of white, and threads of red were in the bowl. Bright red was on the toilet paper I cleaned up with. I showered, shaved, got into a work coverall and was nodding off in the Day Room when the duty briefing snapped me awake. During the work detail I was a zombie, a delicate zombie who if caught off balance would break into a thousand little Marine Pieces. The Gunny gave a nod to the Sgt and he asked me if I needed to go to Sick Call. I responded No Sgt, just sore from a workout and got caught in the rain this morning. I tried paying more attention to the tasks at hand.

  The day sucked out all my reserves. Boot Camp Crucible and Aviation SERE were tough, but I felt I had achieved a new level of on the job training across the last 16 Hours. I skipped chow which was a bad idea and hit the rack exhausted. My dreams were an alternating series of delicious dreams and nightmares. Oh My God, what had I done? I replayed the normal half of liberty – off time. My Uncle, The Bar, the drinking, the decision not to tank and derail my medical and Veteran benefits, taking shelter from the rain; and the other side of the teetertotter - my lack of objection, of not fighting back, even participating moaning, and enjoying every thrust, every squirt of cum. This other side, it was not comprehensible to me. Willingly taking part in a neighborly gang bang rock throwing distance from 8th & I was (not) normal. Or was it? I approached my SGT before the duty day began. I had come back early from my bereavement leave and admitted that insisting on getting back in the duty rotation had possibly been premature. He gave me a nod and asked would three days work? I said yes, and he told me done. “Thanks for letting me know before the morning roster gets finalized, and Corporal, losing battle buddies is tough, losing family is tough, if you need a referral for additional grief counselling, all you have to do is give the word. I never have to worry about you slacking off. I looked down and said Thank you Sgt. I went back to my locker and bunk. Was I going to do this? My conscious mind was telling me to, actually it was yelling at me to get whatever the fuck PEP was and put the whole business behind me. Being gay was not the criminal offense it used to be. So to insure I could put all of this behind me, I committed to using the card. I changed to civvies and took off for the clinic. Each walking step my sore asshole reminded me of the trauma and possible infection it had gone through. But somewhere else the lustful part of ‘me’ was saying what a ride! Let’s do it again!

The clinic was perhaps an inadequate word for what was one division location in Washington DC of a large Non-Profit medical concern named after a poet and women’s health rights leader. Marines, along with all service members have learned to follow a rule of keeping ‘inappropriate’ behavior a certain distance from the Flagpole (so to speak). Since the Internet, this has applied to cyber behavior as well. Looking for porn on a government network would lock you out and get your name on the blotter. In the same vein, trying the same research on free Wi-Fi like the military branch community services provides on military facilities equate to the same thing. However, these days any Marine carries what in earlier eras would be considered a supercomputer. I was led to the proper sublocation, went in and asked the receptionist about PEP? I was directed upstairs and to another reception desk. When my turn came, I opened my mouth to speak but I was handed a clipboard. Please fill this out and return it to me. Names will be called  based on the type of service needed.

I reviewed the list already skittish, There were lots of checkboxes. I selected testing, PEP, and counselling along with possible STI exposure. Then the checklist tree bore embarrassing branches and fruit. Oral Exposure? Yes, Anal Exposure? Yes, I started realizing the implications of earlier questions of just one same sex encounter or multiple? Multiple. Protections used? None. The earlier question of bisexual, homosexual, and hetero sexual, exposure via  unprotected sexual encounters, this was getting difficult, things were getting fuzzy, and I.. Passed out.

...not the end....