Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

By the time I was done I was sweating big time, and my heart was thumping in my chest. If you thought that not having feet meant you couldn't get exercise, think again, as Lt. Hunky Vosloo of the Plump Basket could prove you wrong.

"So it looks like the troep is a happy boy today," he said, nodding at my still plump dick. "Wagging your tail because the rank is touching your puny, maimed body." He was sitting opposite me and had my left leg in his hands, thoughtfully examining my still rosy stump and fingering the sensitive edges with his warm thumb, all the while working aromatic medical lubricant around the tip as he massaged the healing scar. He scooted closer on his chair, the legs making a crass scraping noise on the tiled floor, and before I knew what was happening he had gripped my vulnerable ball-sack in his right fist and squeezed hard. I saw stars, since he wasn't fondling, but rather had the intention to hurt. A literally nut-numbing ache radiated upwards and outwards from my gonads. His voice was cruel, soft and harsh, and he continued to squeeze my testicles in a vice-like grip. His face was right up against mine and I was impaled by his hazel, hate-filled eyes. I could taste his clean manly breath on my lips as he spoke, and my already meager breath evaporated as my heart thumped in my chest at his devastating proximity.

"You shouldn't get your hopes up little girl-boy, if a real man like me was interested in men I wouldn't choose a legless poofter like yourself. If that's what I wanted I would stick with real girls, one who had the ability to take a real man-dick in a real cunt, and could carry babies for me. So give it up, you damaged queer reject, it will never happen!"

For good measure he moved his hand upwards on my now rock hard and drooling cock and speculatively explored my not unrespectable 7 inches with his fingers. He shook his head and tutted. Then he abruptly released my dick and balls and rapped cock sharply, sending a blinding, mind-numbing pain up my core and body.

And to my dismay I shot my load in my shorts!

While I was still in the spasms of my pain-induced ejaculation and orgasm, he stood up and looked down on me, and the embarrassing dark mark of cum that stained my gym shorts.

"Fokken pateties...!" (fucking pathetic) he murmured, again shook his head, and stood, making as if to leave. At the door he paused without turning to face me.

"Tomorrow afternoon after lunch, report to my room. I have some laundry that needs to be done. Be there at two, and don't be late. And now get back to your fucking barracks, queer. You and your fucking stoned buddies have an inspection in an hour. And Jesus help you if I'm not happy. I can make even a bunch of army reject cripples wish they were never born!"

With that he disappeared down the passage. Stoned or not, I sighed and succumbed to the mixture of horniness and fear that flooded my body.

CHAPTER 4

After being caught stoned by our Lt. any prospects to of a quiet Saturday afternoon watching sport disappeared like mist before the sun. When I got back to the barracks I announced that we were in for an inspection in an hour and we started cleaning up. Normally Saturdays were time off, after some drilling in the early morning but not today.

Not today.

First we moved the bunk beds out of the way and we washed the floor. This was an interesting process, what with all the missing limbs. It was a bit like a zombie apocalypse where all the zombies were obsessed with cleanliness.

Lucky no more limbs fell off in the process.

Then we moved bunks back and arranged them perfectly and made our beds using cardboard templates. Moving two-tier bunks is no mean feat even for able-bodied men, but for the collection of sick lame and lazies in this room it was a miracle. But we did it and every time we got better at it. The spirit in the room was pulling us together as a team, and for those who were worse off than others, the team pulled together even more, and helped out.

Our trommels (trunks) were next, the folding of the clothes and equipment strictly prescribed by tradition. Just short of the hour we dressed and in our uniforms and took our positions at our respective bunks. Only just in time as the guy closest to the door announced the arrival of the officer. No. Make that "officers".

A swarm of neatly dressed men in officer's uniforms made its way through the room silently. They were on a mission. Each had one white glove on a hand, and they were sticking their fingers and noses into places we didn't even think of. What started as a relatively quiet, yet threateningly sinister experience, quickly devolved into a rampage, as they found dust in the most unlikely of places. Voices were raised, trommels (trunks) were upended, bunks were tossed over, and one corporal even took his dick out and pissed all over the floors and on one troeps' bed and bedding.

Lt. Adolphus Hitler was the spokesman.

"Well, you can see that didn't go to spec. We, the officers of this little shit hole of a barracks, can only say, we are DISAPPOINTED! We do our best to make life easier for this bunch of human rejects, but you THROW OUR KINDNESSS BACK IN OUR FACES! But we are lenient and give you another chance! We'll be back in an hour and the place will be right. We will do this ALL Night, until we're satisfied...!"

John, the troop whose bedding was pissed on was missing his right hand and foot. But he had a great attitude and when the last officer left the room he quipped, "Lucky I'm into golden showers hey?" We all laughed our asses off (to add to all the body parts that were absent, ha-ha).

This lightened the mood and we started over again. The purpose of the army was to be meaningless and to try and demoralize us but we had already lost so much that all we had was our unbroken spirits.

I won't go into the whole long, long sad story of the fateful Saturday afternoon. We were harassed deep into the night. The rank went off drinking in between each episode and came back progressively drunker and rougher, until eventually they didn't come back. We were all exhausted because of course it was twice as hard for us to do what would be hard and tiring for a "normal" man. But we managed to have a lot of fun, because we carried on ingesting special cookies since we were already in the crap so what harm could it do?

One interesting thing though: when I was just sliding under the sheets of my bunk bed, Ben, a huge guy from a farm in the Free State, and my bunk mate (top, because he was missing only one foot, the left one) came and sat on the side of my bed. He patted my ass which was under the blankets already and then let his hand rest there. He leaned forward until his mouth was inches from mine. His voice was kind and protective.

"How you doing, gay boy? How is that asshole Lt. treating you in therapy? Let me know if he hurts you and I'll fuck his pretty face up so he'll never be able to get laid again."

He leaned in for the last inch and kissed my cheek. My heart was hammering in my chest. He pulled away but only a centimeter. I turned my face toward him to look into his eyes, which were right up close, and staring into mine. I couldn't pull away as I was trapped on the pillow. I decided to pretend this was all normal and spoke.

"He really worked my ass today," Ben giggled softly and raised his eyebrows, "No, man, not like that!" he turned his mouth down knowingly and nodded slowly. I continued. "But besides being an asshole he's making me stronger and he's very gentle with my legs. He's just a dickhead, that's all. He can't help it."

Ben then did a shocking thing. He came in the last few millimeters and kissed me softly of the lips. He just rested his mouth there, and as I caught my breath, opening my mouth to do so, I felt the tip of his tongue playful entered my lips. We kissed gently and non-sexually for moment, my heart almost climbing out of my mouth to join his warm, spitty tongue in my mouth. He pulled away at last, whispering in my left ear, his breath warming me and tickling the soft hairs in the shell.

"Let me know if there's anything I can help you with, gay boy. You're alright," he said and contracted his right hand, which was still on my butt. Then he grabbed his crutch, stood up and laid it across the bottom of his top bunk. He looked down at me a winked.

"Ben, can I ask you something?" I asked softly.

"Sure gay boy," he murmured, standing on his good right foot and leaning down, putting his hands on my bunk. Again he was close, and I wondered if I was going to get beaten up.

"Will you stay down here tonight? I could really use a warm, strong body about right now," I whispered.

A devilish smile crossed his handsome Afrikaans face. He was blond, with extremely curly, coarse hair, (what remained after the regulations army cut) bushy blond eyebrows and a deep golden tan. His shoulders were wider even than Lt. Hitler's, and he had no shirt on, about to go to bed. His biceps looked like he wrestled cows to the ground, but not in the gym-fed way guys have now. His muscles were work-cultivated. He had big juicy looking pink nipples, and some soft looking blond hair between his naturally muscular pecs. His neck was like a tree trunk that sprouted out of the alabaster of his shoulders and at this time of the night, his blonde beard was providing some scruff that stippled his handsome, honest cheeks. His lips were pink and moist, and smiling.

He was in his boxer shorts, an enticing lump swinging in the front of the loose folds, which were just above eye level for me.

He nodded.

"Now don't rape a defenseless Afrikaans farm boy you naughty gay pervert," he admonished as I opened the blankets. I was on my right side facing him, also only in my boxers. He leaned his left knee (of the no-foot) on the bed, and nimbly maneuvered himself until he was lying on his left side, facing me. I pulled the blankets over him, and he put his right arm around me and pulled me closer so I had my head on his left shoulder and his left arm was curled around my back., holding me tight.

"Aren't you worried the other guys will get the wrong idea?" I asked softly.

"What wrong idea can they get, with me half naked in bed with a gay boy?" He chuckled softly and pulled me closer. He put his right knee over my left leg end enfolded me completely in his embrace. Our stomachs and soft dicks touched and the warmth of his skin and the smell of his masculinity was so comforting. Just then the lights went out.

A voice called out: "Hey gay boy, call me if you need a somebody to protect you from that Free State farm hick. You might need a real man...!"

Ben laughed and I could feel his furry tummy, soft against mine, jiggle with mirth.

"I have a little sister that can come and protect you Wessels," he shouted in response, and laughter filled the dark barracks.

"Ben, will you come and lie with me when you've done being comforted by the gay boy? PLEASE?" There was good natured laughter dotted around the room, and some sleepy voices added, "Shut the fuck up... It's midnight for fuck's sake!" Other assenting voices joined until it was quiet.

I fell asleep in Ben's arms feeling safer than I ever had.