Basic Training: 01byviajero©
James was 19 when he decided to join the army. He has taken a semester of classes at the local community college, but he really didn't know what he wanted to do. Classes were too expensive, and he couldn't justify taking out loans for an associates degree. On top of this, he still lived with his mom in their mobile home. She had done her best for him: she had worked one or two jobs to keep a roof over there heads. He wanted to do something to make her proud, and he really wanted to get his own place.
The two weeks before basic was turning out to be one hell of a send off. His mother had been practically beaming when he told her the news of his recruitment (he had actually recruited himself by walking into the Army storefront at the mall). She had started making him hot breakfasts like she used to when he was in elementary school. She made french toast, and scrambled eggs, and collar bacon everyday. He felt good to give his mother something to be happy about.
His friends had made it their mission to see James off the "proper" way. Kyle and Jon especially. They treated each sticky summer night like a going away party; bar-hopping, and especially looking for girls. James was up for it. He had given his two-weeks notice at Citgo over a month ago. He had nothing to do except read the paper, do a bit of fishing, and tone up at the gym. He was feeling great, but he was also starting to get nervous.
It was three days before basic, and the guys went out again. They hit a street where almost all the bars catered to the local colleges. They didn't card too hard, and the guys had bad fakes if they needed them. They had each gotten lucky a few times in the last week, and both Kyle and Jon seemed to be on a mission this night. Jon's older brother Mike had tagged along. For some reason James' heart was not in it anymore. They started at an open-air joint that was offering specials on wings and buckets.
"We'll take two dozen wings, a bucket of Buds, no, make that Coronas, and 5 Jameson shots Sweety," Jon said, handing the slim waitress their menus before they could even get a word in. The sun was almost gone in the West, and a slight breeze gave the first delicious respite from the days maddening heat.
"I guess we're getting started right then, huh Jon?" Kyle joked. They all hunched in, putting elbows down on the wrought-iron patio table. All except James. He remained leaned back in the arm chair. He was oblivious to the many tables of people around them. He twisted a steak knife around in his hand, and gazed at it distantly as he drew his thumb along the blade's edge.
"Hey James," Mike's head was cocked and eyes squinted and concerned.
"Hey buddy," James said half-heartedly.
"What's up, you starting to get nervous?"
James sighed once and leaned in like the rest of them, setting down the knife."Ya, I guess I am. Nine weeks seems like a long time." James half-frown looked serious. "I know I'm in good enough shape. I just have this feeling. Like, maybe mentally I'm not ready, or something bad is going to happen."
"No way man, you are one of the toughest people we know," Kyle said surprised.
The four turned and watched as the attractive waitress walked from the kitchen in back through the tables inside with their order.
"That is what you need James," Jon looked him in the eye and pointed, "some food, some drinks, and some ladies. You are going to kick Basic Training's ass. Then your going to come back here and tell us all the details. Hell, you might even convince us to sign up ourselves. We definitly aren't doing anything worthwhile to this shitty dust-box."
The waitress set down the food and the bucket of beer. As she set down the shots, Jon quickly looked up at her.
"Wait a second, there's 5 shots and 5 people here, that is, including you Sweety." The waitress smiled an shook her head in disbelief. "Now before you protest, listen here. Our good buddy James is going to Basic Training in 3 days, and we're trying to send him off right." She laughed, but before she could answer, a stocky clean cut man in jeans and a white t-shirt walked over and put his arm around her.
"Everything ok over here Eilene?"
"Yea Teddy, these guys are just seeing off their friend. He's going to basic in 3 days," she said with a knowing smile. "They offered me a shot."
The man laughed heartily. He put his hands on the table and looked at them all. "My girl isn't supposed to drink on the job, see guys?" He talked really quiet and controlled. "How about I take that shot for her?"
"Hell yea, no harm intended boss," Kyle said quickly, trying to diffuse the tension.
"Here's to your buddy," the man named Teddy said as he raised his glass. "May he watch his ass in basic."
The man slammed his shot and then slammed the glass back onto their table. He walked backed to his group, sat down, a looked over at them one more time. He didn't look back again.
The rest of the night past in a blur. When James wolk up, he put his head in his big hands and tried to piece together the night before. It only came back in fragments. Shots, bars, women, and that man. He vaguely remembered dancing with a some girl his age. And then he went to the bathroom and puked.
Basic Training started with a bang. His hair was shorn, like the rest. He was give a number, and all the recruits had their belongings checked for contraband. Those first days set up the monotony to follow. Up early, followed by calisthenics, chow. He became accustomed to being ridiculed by the Drill Sargeants, to physical pain, and to endless drilling. They marched, and marched. He learned how to use, maintain, and store many types of equipment. He was beginning to like it.
Around week 2, he noticed a new Drill Sargeant in his regimement that looked vaguely familiar. He couldn't quite figure out who he was. The Drill Sargeant, who's badge said "Shearing", seemed to know him too. And it was the constant low-stare he gave James that made him remember that evening.
"UP!" yelled Sargeant Shearing. The recruits were doing a grass-drill, and were constantly jumping to the ground and back up in different positions. They had been going for nearly 40 minutes, and the Sargeants command meant a brief, and needed, pause. "You are a bunch of fucking faggots! All of you are falling behind my commands!" Shearing walked between the recruits and looked at them as he screamed. "We will be here all night if you can't get this right!"
He ordered the recruits down again and into another endless series of repetitions. Then he walked behind James and stood there for what seemed an eternity. "Having fun yet?"
"Yes sir!" James panted as he spoke.
"You and your fucking duche-bag friends can kiss my ass."
He stood behind James the rest of the next 15 minutes. When he ordered the recruits back to the barracks, he kept James.
"Not you, you stay." The recruits left. "This will be fun, and besides, you won't get to eat you little bitch." He ordered James to start the drill again. He kept going, and going, and going. He started becoming delirious. "Alright you're done," said Sargeant Shearing, and he kicked James with in the gut with all his force. As Shearing walked away, James bent over in pain, throwing up, and yelling explicatives at the Sargeant between gasps.
The next two days past without incedent, but James was paranoid, and really regretting signing up in the first place. When it came time to go into the gas chambers, he felt slightly relieved somehow. The regiment filed into the gas chamber one by one wearing masks. After the doors were sealed, they waited for what seemed like an eternity. The recruits jumped up and down and yelled, trying to psyche themselves up. Then, they removed their masks, putting a hand on the shoulder of the person in front of them, and held their masks high above their heads.
Moments seemed like an eternity. The air was on fire. Everything James tried to keep from coughing was for not. His felt like they were filled with acid. They teared incessantly. The room was filled with the sounds of moaning and gagging. One of the Sargeants yelled that they were almost done, only 15 more seconds. But with each second, James got more and more desperate. He could not breathe.
The recruits were ordered out, and they followed each other blindly throug the doors to fresh air. They stumbled around, or knelt down and heaved. James was trying desperately to open his eyes so he could find somewhere to sit down, but opening is eyes was not an option. His eyes teared and clenched. He stumbled a few feet and came up against someone his size.
"Having fun yet?" Sargeant Shearing asked. But before James could respond, Shearing punched him square in the nose and knocked him unconscious.
When James awoke he was in the Army hospital. His head felt like a watermelon, and he could barely move. He looked to his side and saw that someone was seated there.
"Private don't move to much. Your nose was broken and your face is all swelled up. You need to rest."
"Sargeant Keany?" James mumbled through his swollen mouth.
"Yep. It's me. I'm real sorry about this, but its a mess I'm going to try and clean up. I reckon you know who did this to you?"
"Look, I don't know what you did to Shearing, if anything, but there was no reason for this. He knows. I threatened him, and he is very apologetic. Shearing is a great Sargeant. Maybe a bit insecure, but he means well all the same. Listen, I want to make you a deal." The older Sargeant sighed. "He could get discharged for this if you speak up. I don't want that. He is real sorry, and I transfered him to another regiment. Here is what I propose: You keep quiet about Shearing and I'll recommend you for honors, and a promotion. Both. On top of that, you can have the next week and and a half off to recuperate, and I promise you graduation. What do you say?"
James felt about his swollen face, and was amazed at its size. "How about I think on it. And for the record, I didn't do anything to Shearing."
"Sounds good. You seem like your going to be quite an asset to us one day." Sargeant Keany stood up to leave. "I mean it."
James sat in his bed the rest of the afternoon trying to think. He wanted to kill Shearing. He imagined smashing his face, and shooting him in the head. That bastard needed a wake up call. Keany's deal did sound good though. Honors. And if he didn't have to deal with Shearing, why create trouble.
The perk was hospital food. It was much better than the chow served in the barracks. For dinner, Keany sent over a steak. "Nice gesture," James thought. But when the nurse started into the room to take his plate, James hid the steak knife under his legs.
As night fell, James turned the knife slowly in his hands, feeling the sharpness of the blade grab at his flesh. He was boiling with anger, and his muscles flexed involuntarily beneath his hospital pijamas. As the lights went out in the hospital, he walked past the bathrooms, and slipped out a side door into darkness.
He had no idea what he was going to do. His anger mixed with fear, and he stalked along the compound towards the officer's barracks like a wild cat.
When he arrived he stayed perfectly silent, hiding with his back to the far of the farside of the cement building, listening. It was very quiet. With his adrenaline so high, everything seemed amplified. He heard a million crickets, the distant sound of a television, and a water faucet slowly and rhythmically dripping. He turned the corner to enter the hallway noiselessly and wondered how he would find him.
He slid along the wall another 10 feet and stopped. There, on the second door, was a sign that read, "Sargeant Theodore Shearing." He gave another hesitant look around and walked to the door. He tried the knob ever so slowly. Seconds passed before it was turned a quarter of the way. It was unlocked. He kept turning the metal doorknob at the same agonizing rate until it stopped. He held it there and listened for any sounds. Nothing.
He eased the door open a crack and peered in. Shearing had fallen asleep with a reading lamp on. He was in briefs and an undershirt, and was lying on top of the sheets. James watched him closely as he opened the door enough to slip in. He closed the door behind him with the same silent finess he had used in coming in. He crept over to the bed gingerly, and pulled the knife from his pants pocket. He held the knife close to Shearing's throat. His heart was in his own throat.
He tapped Shearing on the shoulder, and he jerked awake.
"Don't you fucking move or make a sound," James whispered huskily. "You fucked up bad."
Shearing's terror was evident. His breathing was labored. "I'm really sorry, I..."
"Shut the fuck up." James grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Get on the floor, on your knees." As Shearing slid off the bed James kept the knife to his throat. He stood over him. "I should kill you. Maybe I will." He thought. Keany knew, and would know. What the hell was he doing?
He played with the knife against Ted's cheek until he started whimpering. "Listen Teddy, you are going to pretend that you are Eilene now, and your going to suck my cock, and you are going to do it like you love me."
Ted's cheeks flushed. His breath was even deeper than before, and James could see his back expanding with each intake. His own breathing was labored too.
"You can start by undoing these pants."
Ted slowly brought his hands up to the string on his pijama pants. He pulled slowly, and the string gave. He pulled the loose fitting blue bottoms down to the knees. James brought his knees closer together and the pants fell to his feet. James' cock was rock hard already and it stared Ted in the face.
"Like you love me."
James felt Ted move his hands up along his cool pale legs. When his hands hit James pubic hair, James inhaled sharpely. He rubbed slowly along his mound, and played with his balls as he lowered his mouth onto James' glistening cock-head. He tasted his juices by swirling his tongue around and bringing it back into his mouth. He tickled his way up his balls and finally grasped both his balls and the base of his penis. He took half of James' thick 8-inches into his hot, wet mouth.
"Shit yea," James quivered still holding the knife. His balls were tightening. His dick was harder than it had ever been. He could feel Ted's bristlely beard growth, and his hot mouth was devouring his cock. Ted moved his fingers to James' taint, and started eating his dick greedily. James looked down. Ted was sucking him almost all the way down, and he was rubbing his own dick violently, even in this squatting position.
Ted brought his other hand back to James' drenched shaft, and jacked him off for a few pumps. He then went back to sucking his straining cock. James whimpered. Slowly Ted rubbed his spitty fingers around James' asshole. He slipped in a finger, then two, and pushed them in to the big knuckle. He kept them there. Ted pumped his own dick fiercely, and inhaled James' cock in slower, harder, and more deliberate strokes. Both men were moaning.
"Oh shit, yea Ted," James could feel his dick clenching. "Swallow down my load ok? Keep sucking, keep sucking."
"Mmm hmmm," was all Ted said.
James felt something warm and wet hit his shin, and then he was gone. Everything seemed small, then big, then small again. He felt Ted's wet mouth devouring his cock. In slow motion he dropped the knife and grabbed Ted's hair. He pumped load after load of his salty cum into Ted's eager lips. He could feel his balls slapping Ted's bearded chin. He came so hard it almost hurt. Ted lapped down every drop, and continued sucking for a while after.
"OK Teddy, we're cool for now," James said as he quickly pulled up and fastened his pants. Ted sat down on the bed.
"I'm really sorry again," Ted said looking down at the knife. James looked at the knife too. He opened the door.
"I know you are."