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....

 

[negchaserlooking]

Wow, thanks for that chapter. Getting into Mike's head, the conflict etc.

[bbfarm]

8th & I Barber Shop . . . many years in the 90s I’d trek down from NW just to get an authentic military haircut. 

And I’d swing by the GHC ~ what a place!

[Mvillebottom]

Great chapter, has my brain trying to have serious thoughts, and my ass quivering with lust and making it hard to concentrate .  Can't wait to read more.  Thank you for sharing your writing 🥵😁

[DevilDawg]

This is humming along, I do appreciate the comments. I would often take my Leather Daddy to Sousa Hall which (way back in the day) had the infamous Chicken Hut Gay Bar across the street. In those days it was easy enough to find a 17 year old Marine who had a beer in front of him, so demanding an ID as a license to play was the move of a wise breeder or LeatherDaddy. - U-know, an ounce of prevention is worth a pounding of cure, and way less expensive than a trip to the DC Jail in Lorton. Both Daddy and the Black Leatherman, both members of DC Leather clubs would go to the weekend concerts at Sousa (DC) and Schlesinger Hall (in Va). The Black Leatherman was a USAF Korea War Vet and had his way with many Marines from the Annex. He had quite a following of lost lovesick puppies (and this was decades before the K9 Pup Kink Trends.  Good Times! In awe I would listen and learn from these oracles of Leather Knowledge and cum away filled with knowledge, and other stuff - determined to do Daddy Proud. Speaking of Sousa, he will be making a cameo appearance shortly. Cheers and Semper Fi!

[DevilDawg]

Auth-Whores Note: The fair warning on PTSD suffers applies. If you are like me (sometimes) and surf through till the sex starts then scan through till the next section. If you are a civilian, a Sister Service Vet, or a Marine who appreciates just how much the universe fucks with us, this section is for you.  Hopefully T4 will make up for any missing pecker tracks in this section. Enjoy.

.Continued...

T3

My Uncle was saying something about going towards the light but someone else kept interrupting him. The rude interrupter was saying look at the light, follow the light with your eyes but the light was waving left and right, up and down. I felt like I was going to hurl. I closed my eyes and mumbled ‘enough already’. There were people around me, it looked like the interruptions were coming from a guy in a lab coat. Do you know where you are? I hazarded a guess “flat on my ass in the clinic”? I closed my eyes again and started a sit up. Woah Marine, just lay back, I’m going to get your vitals again. “Mike, can you see this paper? Please sign it if you can”. “How do you know my name”? The guy in the lab coat pointed at the form. “My name is Dr. Burroughs, it looks like you are back with us now. Your episode was a real attention getter in the reception area, great way to move to the head of the line but I know now it was not an act. Normally, you would be in a DC Fire Ambulance right now, but when one of our staffers looked at your paperwork and found your Common Access Card, he realized you would likely put up a fuss. I noted some indications of dehydration. Your ripped state is another thing. Normal derm fat is a natural shock absorber for more than just your ass so I broke a rule and stuck you with a saline IV. Now, there are some rules I have to follow and cannot break, and he asked a series of questions as to date, time, place, who my Commander in Chief was, etc. One more question, have you been thinking of harming yourself or others? I answered no, but could not avoid the pause (which he of course noted); and you are here for? “PEP!, I need PEP!” I blurted. Ok, there are some unanswered questions here, Do you know the HIV and or other STI status of the partner that prompted you to come in and when did this encounter happen”? “Maybe HIV positive and day before yesterday” I answered. Doc Continued “And the number of encounters”? I just stared blankly at him. “Mike, can I call you Mike? I really should know, it could have a pertinent bearing. Was it more than One”? I nodded. “Two”? I glared. “Three”? I hung my head and said “12, OK? Twelve but some of those were more than once. Happy now”? The doc looked at me and said “Mike, this is serious, if you were assaulted, I need to know. I also served and thank you for your service by the way, I should have said that earlier. You are not the first Marine to seek our services and you will not be the last, but if you were assaulted, I have to know”. “NO! I was NOT assaulted”. OK, easy, lets do a few things here. He turned to his assistant and asked for a kit. There are a couple of rapid tests for HIV, for an exposure like this it will only show if you have HIV antibodies now. Lay your hand flat on the counter please. This is only a little prick and he proceeded. The other type of rapid test is a swab of your cheek. Because of other possible exposures, we are going to do a comprehensive STD kit. Any time we do an IV, we normally do a small draw of blood for these testing purposes, the pull we normally do when doing an IV in situations like yours - namely passing out will suffice. Even if some of the flush is in the sample, the lab can see what it needs to. I see you are shaking some, is this normal for you”? I shook my head. “No? It is understandable. Some information and situational realizations can cause shock. From what you have told me so far, I believe this qualifies. I need you to use this cup and try to get more than a half inch of urine in it. He handed me a sample cup, two packages and two test tubes. This is an oral swab holding a package, it is a stick with a swab. This one does not go between check and gums, this needs to touch the back of the throat. Be slow and gentle. You don’t want to poke around back there. You could gag or poke into tissue. It goes in cotton swab first to the back of the throat. Once done, remove it, stick the swab end into this tube (careful, it has a solution in it that can spill), snap off the extra stem that does not fit in the tube and recap it. Same thing on the other swab but it goes up your butt. Take your time you do not want to cause any additional trauma. He pointed me to the restroom, and I did the sample cup and the swabs. As I returned, the Doc continued. We’ll have these results back Tomorrow or Friday morning. Now, for PEP, there is funding via a government/pharma partnership for Post Exposure Prophylaxis. For individuals who engage in risky sex, or have a protective measure like a condom break on them there is Post Exposure Prophylaxis PEP. That has to be administered within a short time window after exposure. It has been found to inhibit HIV from replication and helps the body in reducing exposure and preventing infection that overwhelms the body’s defensive immune system. We are towards the end of the window where these have been shown to be effective, so here is a cup of water I want you to take one of these pills now and he watched me take it. He handed me the bottle. This is a 30-day regimen. After that, we can transition to Pre Exposure measures which contain a lighter dosing of what you have minus the added binary meds. PEP is a binary combination of PrEP and a stronger medication. This can be confusing but your paperwork will include an information pamphlet. Read it please!  You take one pill a day for 30 days. Your info on your intake form is correct? Yes?, you will be called if another STI/STD is detected that merits Doxy or other Treatment. Those treatments are only used when needed since unnecessary antibiotic prescriptions can breed resistant infection strains. If needed, you will get a prescription notification by Tomorrow or Friday at latest. We need to schedule you to come back for another STI Comprehensive test in two weeks. We will check liver and kidney function and compare it to the baseline that will be generated by this current round of testing.  You will get your initial bottle of PrEP to start only after the PEP regimen is finished. I know this is a lot to absorb. In particular, this organization was started to assist people when confronted by overwhelming medical, psychological, social challenges and stigmas. While not a necessary component of PEP after action treatment there are highly recommended counselling resources that we offer as well as the extensive Patient Care Team Coordinators at the Veterans Administration for LGBTQ+ and Gender Diverse Veterans. Marines live by acronyms, but the Doc had said Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, and questioning along with gender and diverse. I was unable to recall it ever being said before directed in m y direction. My mind wandered - Had I really asked my Uncle to Poz me? Had I used the term privately or mentally? I started to feel a flush of heat as I turned red. Had I asked a man to fuck me harder under the overpass? “Mike? The doc asked. You look a little flush. As I said the enormity of processing this type of information besides the possible infection exposure is significant. When added together, it can be overwhelming. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you will follow the PEP regimen. Countless lives and collective losses to all humanity are wrapped up in this band aid bottle. Will you follow the regimen without deviation? I looked him in the eyes and replied “yes Doctor”. Doc continued “Second to last thing, some (not all) people taking this medical regimen experience varying degrees of gastrointestinal discomfort and or results. There is a lot wrapped up in these tablets. You can pick any time of day to take your dose, but I recommend taking your dose at bedtime or dinnertime to minimize the effect during the day. Now, last thing. How did you get here? When he learned that I had walked, he suggested a taxi or transportation service. All this concrete is a glaring solar oven even on nice days.

Outside, Mike looked at his phone shading the screen from the glare. He headed towards the National Mall. There was beauty and history in a capitol vista surrounded by the mundane. One location that was on his to-see list was the Smithsonian museum campuses on the Mall. Mike was never really into Dinosaurs and core required studies in high school besides math and sports were sort of boring. Unthinking he went to the Air and Space Museum but reversed and exited hastily. What was he thinking? It had been hard enough to board a commercial flight to DC, unthinkingly going inside the A&SM, he was back in the water, in the dark, unable to help or render aid to his officers, not looking out for his crewmate, knocked senseless and not even able to help himself. He sat in the shade and eventually the shakes faded away and he felt better. Post incident counselling was not optional in any branch of the DoD, so Mike knew this was survivors’ guilt along with a complete seabag full of troubles. He had been trained in techniques and issued tools to mentally allow him to continue to do his duty. But today, he was off duty, he had done what he intended to do and was faced with the monumental choice of ‘what now’? Mike was a checklist sort of person by training and he was already in the Department of Veterans Affairs local VISN computer as a result of his medical hold. An impulse prompted him to take the advice given to him at the clinic. He called the VISN-5 DC VA Medical Center Main Line and asked for the LGBTQ+ PACT Coordinator number. The operator kept asking what? Even with his previous shakes this was a topic of ‘normality’ and settled him down further. He was used to getting the run around. He said thanks and hung up. A quick google search and he had a point of contact. He dialed the number mentally composing his voicemail and was startled when a human answered. He rearranged his questions: Is this the Gay PACT Coordinator for DC Region? She answered yes. I’m a Veteran and was told you might have some counselling or group sessions available? I’m already in your system. Can I get your last name and last 4 of your SSN please? Mike knew to remain polite; he had heard horror stories of VA staff retaliating against Vets by reporting them for disruptive behavior. Mike took a deep breath and asked again, first, I would just ask, “are those programs even available”? He felt he might already have the answer with her non-answer. She replied, “many of our Vets have requested such services and we are looking into it”. I countered, “how long has this been”? “Since the Obama Administration” she replied. Thank you and I hung up. I was wondering if I had just screwed up and my phone rang showing Washington DC Medical Center. I exclaimed Fuck! Which got me some looks by passersby and declined the call. It rang again and I blocked the number. I had not provided my name and certainly not the last 4 of my SSN, but I was enough of a geek to know my name was on my voicemail and realized my info was also attached to my phone number so I blocked theirs before they could leave a Message or hear my greeting. Today was not going so well. Marines who do drugs often become former Marines or felons. But there was the vice that had started this rodeo, I could use a beer or maybe a dozen. I googled  DC Gay Bars and saw clubs that would not open for many hours, but one jumped out at him as being off of the beaten path. Following phone navigation, the tag line was correct. In the middle of a city block was a tiny brick building with parking, office and an apartment buildings on all 4 sides. He went in and it looked at first like any bar in an old repurposed building. There was a four-sided bar in the middle and stairs leading upstairs. A tired popcorn machine reminded Mike he had skipped chow the night before and had been too distracted to eat breakfast that morning. Probably, it was why he did a dirt dive at the clinic. He scooped a bag of popcorn, ordered a Blue Moon, devoured the popcorn, sucked on and ate the Orange and then chugged the beer. He asked for some ice water, very little ice, heavy on the water and ordered another beer. The water helped. The beer helped. He was able to remember happy times at the beach in Pensacola, trading comments with his classmates on girls in bikinis and the crass jokes Marines always had on tap. Thinking of girls in bikinis, his eyes drifted to a poster of a ripped stud – ‘Shirtless Men Drink Free - Thursdays 10:00 to 11:00’. The ‘crowd’ consisted of 6 people but new patrons were streaming in after work for happy hour. Mike had been paying as he went Forgetting to close a bar tab always resulted in a penalty regardless of what type of bar it was. Eventually Mike realized the bartender was asking a question. Another one? You, OK? Mike came to awareness, yes please, one more Blue Moon and a water and cut me off. Can you tell me about the shirtless night? He looked at my high and tight then back to my eyes. “Been going on for decades, that and underwear night”. The cups are moderate sized but the price is free. You keep up sliding the dollar tips and they’ll take really good care of you. His attention turned back down the bar and I finished my water and beer. I distractedly gave the thin bartender a wave when he was close enough, I said “another please” and he responded, I would love to take your money, but when a Jar Head tells me to cut him off, I consider it to be inspired words of wisdom from a Marine who knows when to say when. You want another water? No Thanks and thank you for looking out for me. I slid him another tip and walked out.

Every Marine gets a taste of Squad Bays. For Enlisted men, this starts in Boot Camp and might or might not continue past Recruit Training into the Specialty Occupation training. That first visit to San Diego or Parris Island washes away the basic civilian concept or any punk expectation of privacy. Privacy to chill, privacy to think, privacy to masturbate, privacy is not appreciated until it is lost and then it hits hard. Mikes ‘A’ School in Pensacola where Marines Train side by side in integrated classes with Male and Female Sailors and Marines is a bit unique. Once a Marine Graduates Boot Camp having earned their EGA they are expected to act like Marines (but with a necessary amount of guidance). Sailors at Pensacola are limited in their ability to wear civies until they get some more guidance in A School. Housing billets for single enlisted service members in a garrison environment, or in a school environment can range from several roommates assigned to a room, down to a typical number of two occupants depending on rank and other factors.   The era of the facility (when it was built) and how many renovations have occurred since then is a big factor in how many occupants to a room and the pairing up roommates. Senior officers and Senior Enlisted would normally have their own room. Middle and junior Marines would normally be paired with a Marine of equal rank when the room housed two but this did not always work out so well in fluid units and sections like medical hold.

Back at the Barracks, I reflected that no matter how many renovations occurred, a squad ready room was necessary in cramped barracks. Yes, with laptops and TV’s in rooms, personal selection of streaming video or music was fine in your own room, but these rooms were necessary for a host of other things such as required training in sexual harassment and other subjects was known as ‘mandatory fun’. Tonight, they were streaming Kelley's Heroes with Clint Eastwood, Telley Savalas, and other stars.

Marines love heckling Army movies. As I sat and watched for a moment some lines stuck in my head where the Oddball Tank Commander who I remembered from Animal House was chastising his mechanic crewmember who for some reason I recalled played the Love Boat Captain about never thinking positive thoughts. “Always with the Negative Waves Moriarty” when later lines again contained the words ‘Positive Thoughts’, I fled the rec room back to my room. I was trying to clear my head of sexual distractions the world kept throwing my way only to burst in on my naked roommate. I averted my eyes lest I be caught looking at things I should not. “What’s chasing you Mike”? Andy my Lance Corporal Roommate asked. He was a senior E-3, and normally I would be paired with another E-4 but we both tended to wake up yelling from dreams where we were drowning. So, this factor made us a roommate match. Andy had survived an Amphibious Combat Vehicle accident and in the few words we had shared he had been as helpless as I had been during my helicopter dunking. We both had agreed to not talk about it by simply avoiding the subject except for an occasional ‘dude, you OK?’ after a nightmare was marked by another scream waking his roommate.

Besides that, I had a real situation developing. I had rarely gone this long a time without rubbing out a load since I graduated Recruit Training. I was careful as a classmate had been caught jacking off and he had the double bad luck of having a last name of Bates. He flunked out of the aviation training track a nervous wreck after a few weeks of Gangway or Clear a path for Master Sgt Bates. I’m not saying it was not funny, but I did not want to experience what he did Firsthand, so to speak. As for the catcalls that would follow me around if it became known I had taken on a bakers dozen of homeless trolls in a gangbang under the bridge was painful even as speculation and I tried not to think about it.

With Andy in the room, my doing a ‘manual release/systems check’ in bed was impossible and I was afraid to perform a manual release in the Head for fear someone might hear. I was not certain I could stay silent. Just thinking about masturbation had my no longer virgin asshole throbbing. And my cock felt like it could shatter at the merest touch. Trying to keep my dirty mind in its sandbox and away from Images of Andy naked in our room, or the shirtless men drink free poster, I felt ready to explode. I tried thinking of girls at the beach in Pensacola, but those images always had hot guys nearby. I continued through my catalogue of memories until I remembered some church lady types and my boner fled. Keeping my hygiene kit ready if I needed to hide my boner again. I returned to my room. Andy was crashed in his sack snoring and I breathed a sigh of relief. There was a whiff, maybe a hint of ammonia smell. Had Andy jerked off during my torment? Bastard!

Thursday morning, after pooping out an apparently multi-colored aquatic sea monster sponge which freaked me out a bit - I stepped on the scale in the shower room it showed 150 Lbs. Normally maintaining or losing weight is what we Marines strive for, but considering the path my ass had been skipping down lately with HIV+ Trolls it is call for some concern. Or maybe it was just lack of appetite and some shame and embarrassment plus forgetting to hydrate? I looked in the mirror, was I wasting or was I ripping? I wrestled with my imagination. Wasting into an AIDS Skeleton after half a week? That was horror movie stuff. Regardless, I selected a big breakfast in the chow line. Then I struck off back to the clinic to see what kind of counselling was available. I had no plans for dinner, so I went ahead and popped my PEP dose for the day. I was considering the VA info no matter how incompetent or inept they had seemed the day before but first I would try the clinic.

I grabbed my beach bag that was basically a drawstring bag of lightweight blue nylon but had extra cords and could be worn like a knapsack with civvies and egressed the barracks before the muster. Corporals hanging around the Ready Room often got tasked with something, leave or no leave. I stopped by the 7-Day store/Marine Mart and bought some Gatorade and some bottled water and shoved them in the bag where an Amazon blister package would keep them cold longer.

This time at the ground floor clinic entrance he was more confident and asked for the counselling intake section, that I had a referral and intake paperwork was started. Income – I had my Leave and Earnings Statement on my phone, I marked and noted in my history section my PTSD, Death of Family/Loved Ones, Sexual Trauma but then I scratched that out. Rather than just male/female selections there was a section on identity and pronouns. Mike was starting to think this might not be such a good idea. Medical History, Drug History, Alcohol, Emergency Contact I left blank. On an unscheduled visit, without an appointment I was prepared to wait for a long time but when I was called, it had been less than an hour. I saw I was being called by a thin man in Khakis and a polo shirt with close cut hair. That’s me and stood. “Great, My name is Logan, please follow me” and we went into in inner office cubicle with no windows. My discomfort was noted and Logan said “I know this is a little cramped, do you have a history of claustrophobia”? “Some, but this is fine” I replied.  Logan Continued, “and how do you prefer to be addressed? You know my name and I identify as male”. While Logan was casually going through some papers, my expression change was noted. My thoughts changed from the internal comment ‘but was born Female’? To ‘Careful Mike’! I took  breath, “Mike is fine”. “Mike, first I must cover a few guidelines. Everything you say here is strictly confidential, but there are exceptions and those are thoughts of self-harm or harming others. Have you ever desired to go to sleep and never wake up”? Mike took a deep breath and said, “Yes and no, and it was already medically noted in my medical records.  I was in an aviation training accident. Both pilots were lost, I suffered head and other orthopedic injuries and would have also died if my crewmate had not saved me. Yes, I was depressed, Yes, I wondered why I survived, Yes, I have been diagnosed with PTSD. I’ve been told I am handling it ok and certainly would not be sitting here talking to you if I had previously thought of harming myself” It was at this point, I realized I had just likely screwed myself. Logan had been looking at me and allowed me to run-on without interruption. I wound down and finished off with “and my Gay Uncle just died”. Logan paused for a bit and said “That is a lot, I’m sorry for your loss, but there is also the matter of your asking for a regimen of Post Exposure Prophylaxis. You stated you were not assaulted but did not elaborate”. Shit, here it comes Mike thought. “Were these partners known to you or anonymous”? Mike realized the Devil was always in the details. “What would happen if I were to say I’d prefer not to say”? “Mike, this is not an interrogation, and unless you say the magic words it will not be an investigation. I can see the obvious that this is not a comfort area for you. Let me add another question. Do you regret some of the paths you have taken”? “Logan, to be honest, I really cannot say. It is not that I will not, but until you asked the question - it was not even on my checklist. These situations, these feelings, it is all so new to me I have nothing to measure it against”. Logan said, “that is an answer, there are no best answers, but it seems to be an honest one. You might benefit from a group that does have openings. This is a group that helps navigate the stresses of same sex discovery and there are group members who generally fit that situation when they discover they are not heterosexual”. Logan continued on as I took a breath – “that is a generalization, there are some military members of the group, but they are generally not dealing with PTSD. Without having access to your military medical records, we would not want to overlap treatments already in progress. Perhaps a group like this introductory one will allow the group leader to do further assessments and it might enable you to realize you are not the first person to seek help in discovering where you are and where you are going. That you are seeking counselling says a lot about your intelligence, your stability, and your desire to choose the best path forward. That group meets on Thursdays at 6 PM here on this floor. Will that work”? At my nod, he continued. “Here is some counselling you did not ask for. The days of Military Don’t Ask Don’t tell are over but this type of thing can change nearly overnight. There is nothing illegal about being LGBTQ+, but you might want to get a PO Box unless you want clinic mail going to your unit. Thank You for your service. I also served, but I realize some of these details get missed when you are thinking about bigger things. Now, the Business office has processed your paperwork you turned in. The PEP Treatments and tests are covered by grants and community program funds. Fortunately, or unfortunately for you, E-4’s over 3 years in service make more than they used to, it is at least above the poverty rate. The Business Office has assigned a Co-Pay of $10/visit. Is that doable”? I nodded yes. Today’s intake is covered. Next Thursday, I would recommend a check but cash can be taken. Now, just to summarize, this intake was based on the info and questionnaire response info you provided. To make sure you did not omit anything, and we did not miss anything, there is no question concerning gender identity”? I was shaking my head no. “At the end of the 30 day regimen of PEP, you will transition to PrEP. The Post Exposure is covered by a health program. The PrEP is under a different program. I would recommend checking with the pharmacy today or before your Two Week return visit for labs and sign up for the Manufacturers program for discounted PrEP. It brings the costs down considerably. People in the Midwest often have to pay a bundle for dosing. On the flip side – with the manufacturers program, a 30 day regimen via our pharmacy comes out to a couple of dollars a day. This might sound complicated, and time consuming but these small ounces of prevention are worth a pound of cure when you consider the regimen side-effects that HIV Anti-Virials pose. Here is a card, if you have further questions or find yourself in a questioning mode you can call the number there. If you are in crisis, the 988 number is on the card as well. Any other questions”? I shook my head and thanked uh, I was still having pronoun confusion… Logan.

I killed some time, drank my Gatorade before it got super hot and was chasing it with water. I was not going to be able to handle yawning around Washington DC NW Quadrant for over 10 hours. The bar where on Thursdays Shirtless Men Drink Free was just a few hundred Yards away but was also more then 10 hours in time away. Some of the things Marines learn to do in almost any location, under pleasant or difficult conditions are: Sleep (impractical); Game (just the cell phone); Horseplay (who with?); Jack Off (In DC, In Public? YGBKM); PT (The only real alternative). I walked down to McPherson Square Metro Station past where my Uncle said the hookers (boys and girls) would hang out in Franklin Park. The DC Metro Rail System is still a big deal. My Uncle said it was a big mess when they were digging up half the city to replace the old Trolley system.

There are many ways to get to Arlington from where I was in NW DC but only three were sensible. I could cross the bridge over the Potomac where Air Florida had crashed in the 80’s and near where the Army had downed PSA American Eagle Flight 5342 with a Black Hawk Via the long bridge walkway in January. I could ride the Metro across the metro rail bridge just a football field or two away from those same spots; I could take a Cab or Uber; or I could ride Metro under the river via Rosslyn. All of these choices were a little nuts for a Marine that had survived an Aviation Water Ditch. For some crazy reason, closing my eyes and enduring the ride seemed to make more sense underground thru the tunnel under the river rather than across the bridge. No wonder I was on medical hold. A Marine afraid of an amphibious crossing of a river and landing in Virginia was of no use to Corps or Country. I took a deep breath and chose the tunnel route. I got off of the appropriately named Blue line at Arlington National Cemetery. I did not go in. Chesty Puller with a Bull Whip could not have forced me through those gates. Instead, I went along the bike path and running trail down by the back road that led to the combined Joint Base Meyer – Henderson Hall, These two Marine and Army bases used to bump up hugging each other, now they were one with each other with an incredible Army and AirForce Exchange Service Location (and) a Marine Corps Exchange but weird shit like that rarely bothered Marines and I started to laugh as I thought about it, but then stopped laughing. Behind me was a vista like no other. The Lincoln Memorial, the Kennedy Center, the Jefferson Memorial, the Washington Monument, the Capitol and scores of other landmarks that caught the attention of locals and tourists alike. However, in front of me was the Iwo Jima Memorial. As I drank the last of my warm water, I realized I had never had time to reflect here. When the Marines had Sunset Parades here on Tuesdays during the Summer Months Just like Evening Tatoo Parades occurred at 8th & I on Fridays. I had been here plenty of times, but I was always working and sweating my ass off. I looked up and considered the Daily Routine those Marines must have had. Stones and Volcanic ash to sleep on, every horizontal distance mirrored in a vertical ascension or descent, not enough chow, and too many snipers. Eventually, the sun was dipping West behind the trees and I went uphill through the neighborhood to the Quarterdeck for Crab cakes, Fish & Chips and a beer or three. Despite my loss of appetite, maybe I could put some meat on my bones.

Later, buzzed and stuffed, I paid my tab and left for the Rosslyn Metro. The sun had set. I was buzzed, but no amount of brewer’s droop could divert the sensation of being horny and hard up.

I rode back over to NWDC on Metro, crossed K and L and walked down the alley to the bar. I am young enough I always get carded and the doorman handed me a cup. This was new I thought, I asked him “Shirtless Party”? Upstairs he said. I was being pushed along, the crowd was not a lazy 6 people like the other day, this was packed! I wormed through and up the stairs. There was an incredible number of hot guys with their shirts off. I pulled mine over my head and slipped it under my belt. I felt that my wallet was tight down in my left rear pocket, and my beach bag was stuffed in my right back pocket. If downstairs was crowded, this was nut to butt. I made it to the serving well, got the house rail drink, tipped the bartender who was an amazing bartending machine and moved closer to the wall. Yes, the cup was small. But I realized any profits lost would be recovered probably by 23:30 if this crowd continued drinking. I finished the rail and wormed back up for a beer. When I had finished that one, I was working my way up for another beer, got it, drank about half down and then - it happened. The cup was just coming down and I noticed an especially enticing chest with ripped abs and a treasure trail, but then I noticed its owner was looking back right at me, and I dropped my beer. I ducked down to fetch the cup to a couple of ‘hey watch it’ utterances from guys who had been splattered. I remained ducked down cursing. Surely it was the beers and the rail drinks, I slowly rose up and he was gone in the crowd. That is when I felt the tap and a loud voice that could be heard over the music. “Hey Marine, come here often”? It was Andy. Fuck!

...not the end...

T4

Edited 14 hours ago by DevilDawg
fixies

[negchaserlooking]

Loving the story, loving the detail

[Oldpeter51]

Great story….  And contemporary!