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WEEBLE
"Weeble! You got a phone call in the day room!" Chunk called out into the bay, which only made everyone look at Victor. He knew better than to ask who it was. No one questioned who was on the other end. If it was official, it would have come to the Sergeant's desk. Plus, you didn't want someone screaming into the bay "YOUR MOMMY WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"
He got up from his bunk wondering who would call him. He didn't feel much like talking, and he knew it wouldn't be his parents, even if they somehow found the time or money to call. He still hadn't come out of the funk he'd been in since the attack and he wasn't interested in whoever was on the phone.
"Hello?" He said when he picked up the receiver, dreading the response from the other end.
"Victor? Hey bud! You're a hard one to track down. How are you doing?"
At first he couldn't place the voice. "I'm doin okay." He answered with a non-committal flat tone in his voice, waiting for the recognition to hit.
"Wow man! Airborne huh? That's incredible! How'd you manage that?" The male voice said. It was friendly, like they knew each other well. "You sure you're okay bud? You don't sound like yourself."
It was the way he said `bud' that shot an arrow through him.
"Wicomb?" Victor asked as he felt himself starting to shake, his body trembling. Was it Wicomb? The only person who had been nice to him at Bragg? Who didn't treat him like some miniature mascot and the butt of daily jokes? Who was just a stone cold fox without even trying?
"Yeah Chambers, thought I'd give you a call to see how you were holding up, how everything was going. I tried to track you down last year, but they wouldn't tell me where you were."
Wicomb called HIM. Victor felt his insides go weak. Tall handsome Wicomb with the beautiful blue eyes and amazing body had been trying to get ahold of him all this time. He felt a flush of happiness. For the first time since the incident he felt like smiling.
"I'm doin really good, Wicomb. I can't believe you tracked me down. How are you doin?"
Wicomb chuckled on the other end of the phone. "Oh, you know, staying greasy keeping the birds flying. So you jumping out of planes now like a badass? Did I get it right? You're at Airborne School?"
Victor laughed, really laughed. It felt good to feel free enough to laugh with pure joy. "Just for Jump School, I ain't Airborne or nuthin." He answered in his southern Alabama drawl.
"Really? Damn, bud! You lucky dog. How is it? What's it like?" Wicomb asked with excitement.
"Oh man, it's so cool! You wouldn't believe it. A lot of practice, a lot of runnin everywhere and a whole lot of waitin, but we just did our first combat jump today and it was amazin!" Victor gushed. "It don't take long gettin to the ground once you jump out the door, but it's still fun as hell. We had a Hollywood jump before this...no MOLLE, no gear. It was SO intense!"
"I bet. Man, you ARE a badass! Fucking loaded down and jumping out of a plane. Holy fucking SHIT! Where'd they put you when you left Bragg?"
Victor got a thrill when he heard Wicomb call him a badass. "They offered me to take some special trainin, said it would be good for my career. It seemed like the right thing to do after...you know, with the guys there."
He could hear Wicomb take a couple breaths over the phone. "Yeah, I know bud. They were assholes. Hey, you know I ended up kicking Barton's ass? Kept running his mouth in the shop about how he was glad you were gone and a bunch of other stupid shit I'm not going to repeat. I got a formal for that, but it was worth it."
"Yeah? Oh man!" Victor exclaimed. Duncan Barton was the guy he suspected of outing him. "I hope you got him good." The words were out of his mouth before he gave it any thought, and it surprised him that he felt that way. Even during the worst of it at Bragg, he didn't want to hurt anyone. He felt differently now. He actually felt like if Barton was standing in front of him he'd shove his teeth down his throat with his bare fist, and fuck the consequences.
"Not as much as he deserved. I would have been in a lot more trouble if I had. But, he shut his mouth so he got the message." Wicomb said with his deep, sexy voice.
"Well thanks. It definitely needed doin." Victor replied.
"Hey bud, I was thinking..." Wicomb started, then paused.
After waiting a couple seconds for him to continue, Victor prompted "Yeah? About what?"
"Um, well Bragg and Benning aren't that far away from each other, maybe I could drive down one weekend and hang out? It'd be cool to see you again and hear what you've been up to."
Victor's heart jumped into his throat. "Really?" He felt a confusing combination of hope and fear. Hope that it was real, and fear of a crushing disappointment and screwing it up. He started shaking all over again.
"Yeah bud. It'll be fun. I mean, if you want me to. I know you're busy with the training and I don't want to get in the way and I don't know if you get time off but it's cool if you don't want to or you can't get away... I don't know, I was just thinking, that's all. It's probably not very practical, you probably have to study and --." Wicomb rambled on in a rush that came across as self conscious with a lack of confidence that was extremely out of character for him.
Weeble couldn't miss this chance. "No! I want you to!" Victor cut in before Wicomb backed out completely. "I'm graduatin Friday, it's our last jump Friday mornin, our only night jump. Can you come this weekend? The course will be over and `cept for barracks duty I don't got nuthin I gotta do. I might could be outta here come Monday so I might not be this close when we get our next assignment. After graduation I think they cut us loose for the afternoon, cuz everyone's got family coming to see us graduate. It's like a thing, you know?"
"Wow! You're going to get your Airbone wings? Victor, that's a fucking big deal! Holy shit! I'm definitely coming this weekend. We're going to celebrate!"
Victor couldn't stop smiling. All the tension he'd been carrying since Sunday, all the darkness that filled his head and muted his thoughts and emotions melted away. All the pain and hurt he wanted to inflict on every smug asshole he'd ever met who pretended to be nice just to get Victor to drop his guard... that left him, he felt the possibility of being clean again. Like he wasn't dirty, damaged, pitiful and pathetic. He felt the hope swell that maybe someone thought he was worthy. Maybe Wicomb didn't care about the rumors, or the possible truth of them, and maybe he saw Victor as a good person that he actually liked being around. Maybe Wicomb didn't think of Victor as some casual convenient plaything to use and throw away. Maybe he was worth more than a secret fuck and suck. A tear fell from his eye as he thought `I want it to be real' . He knew it was a moment of weakness he couldn't afford, but anyone else, at any other moment in his life, and he might have kept it together. But this was Wicomb. He wanted it to be real. The guy who stood up for him when it all hit the fan back at Bragg. The guy who was nice even after he'd gotten what he wanted. The guy who smiled when he saw Victor. The guy who didn't push, who didn't make things dirty with whispered comments and sleazy grins. And just after the recent brutal attack and rape by two men who saw him as exactly what every man saw since high school... a small, weak target they could get something out of without having to give anything back. Take, take, take. Use. Use. Use. After that, Wicomb seemed to care about HIM, about taking care of him, reconnecting with him, driving 8 hours to see him, making who knows how many calls to figure out where Victor was over almost an entire year. He saw Victor as a person. He actually WANTED to keep in touch. There hadn't been a single friend, a single acquaintance in his entire life that liked him enough to find him and keep in touch. Not a single person.
He wiped his eye on his sleeve. "I can't wait for you to meet the Bravos. That's my unit, every one's amazin. They're really nice to me. I'm really happy here, Wicomb. And you comin to visit is..." Victor stopped himself before he said something he'd regret. "Well, it makes me really happy too." He actually wanted Wicomb to meet the guys, all of them. He wanted him to see who he had around him every day. He wanted Wicomb to know he belonged here, and wanted to belong here. And yeah, part of him wanted Wicomb to be impressed that he was one of these guys, had become a Bravo.
"I'm glad, Victor." Wicomb said softly. "It's a date then." Then quickly followed by "I mean... I'll be there, bud. I'll leave a message when I get into town."
`You can call it a date if you want' Victor thought in his head. Even though it wasn't and Wicomb was just a nice person who only wanted to be Victor's friend, he could still imagine it that way, right? Even if Wicomb wasn't after a repeat of their road trip to North Carolina, Victor could still indulge himself in the fantasy, right? Wicomb was beautiful, manly, confident and a little cocky (but not as cocky as Sleeper...no one could be that cocky). Victor loved that. Maybe he could have his very own best friend, someone to talk to, someone who he could share everything with like the other Bravos had. Victor had never had a best friend. No one in his entire life liked Victor enough to be his best friend. Maybe when Wicomb came this weekend, he'd ask him if he wanted to be his best friend. He hoped he had the courage to ask. He hoped Wicomb wouldn't laugh...and instead say yes. He had a sudden doubt that adult men didn't have best friends, and that it was a kid thing. He shook it off. Maybe he wouldn't ask. It was okay if he didn't.
"Okay Wicomb. I can't wait! Thanks for callin to check up on me. That was really nice of you." Victor managed to keep his voice from shaking, and thought he did a pretty good job of sounding happy but not too affected, keeping it light and fun, without desperation or anything crazy.
"I'm glad I was able to track you down, Chambers. We're going to have a blast this weekend. Talk to you soon, bud."
"Yeah, talk to ya soon! Bye Wicomb." Victor said, hanging up with a smile that never left his face. He took a minute to dry his eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt before turning around. Wicomb was still his friend and he didn't understand why, but it filled him with a joy he thought he'd lost forever. He'd felt this hope before, which too often turned to disappointment and fear, but this time he needed it to be true. It was Wicomb. It didn't feel one-sided like all the times before. Even though he knew it was foolish to get his hopes up, he couldn't help it. It felt different this time.
Walking back into the bay, he saw Assmunch look over.
"Everything good, Weeble?" Assmunch asked.
Victor gave him a big smile. "Everythin is great, Assmunch!" And he walked over to his bunk with a spring in his step.
When he sat down he looked around and saw all the Bravos who were in the bay were looking at him with smiles, some big and on the verge of a laugh.
"What?" He asked, smiling back.
"Nothing, brother." Olympic said before anyone else could speak up. "We just missed that smile of yours. It's good to see it again." All the Bravos gave a single nod before they went back to what they were doing.
AIRBORNE AND RANGER TRAINING BRIGADE
FT. BENNING, GA
Col. Mark Ulrich looked over the roster of Class 2-1993 with a frown. He knew the participants of the Pentagon's special study, however he didn't know which specific soldiers were faggots. As far as he was concerned, the whole lot of them could fuck right off his base. That smug asshole Major Collins brought his little cocksucking fairy test program to Ulrich's Airborne and Ranger School but as much as he hated it he was powerless to do anything about it. Defense officials far above the level where his silver birds flew had decided. He was just a lowly Colonel and it irritated the hell out of him that a Marine Major thought he could walk into his Training Brigade and damn near give him orders of how he was going to run his classes. Even the way that fucker sat casually in the chair across from his desk irritated Ulrich. Like he was entitled, as if he were Ulrich's equal, relaxed and confident. It felt like disrespect. Even worse, the arrogant jarhead assumed without request. "When these boys graduate...". Ulrich wanted to growl at him "They don't graduate unless I say they graduate". "How are we going to...". WE? WE? "You know fuck-all about running this Brigade you junior piece of administrative shit" was what Ulrich WANTED say. It soured his entire day every time he had to meet with Collins, some Pentagon General's lapdog. When Collins executed his salute upon entering his office, and saluted before leaving, Ulrich didn't give him a return. It wouldn't surprise him if Collins was a faggot himself. But he was a Pentagon golden boy and untouchable.
Ulrich had to stop himself yesterday from screaming at Collins that he didn't want these fudge packers hanging around his base as holdovers between the BAC and RIP (Ranger Indoctrination Program). Class 2-1993 was scheduled to graduate the Basic Airborne Course tomorrow morning, but intake for the next Ranger class was 2 weeks away. Ordinarily the holdovers would have to be assigned temporary quarters until they could be moved into the Ranger barracks, and the batt boys would be returned to the 75th for whatever hazing was necessary. Batt boys were soldiers already attached to the 75th Ranger Battalion who only lacked their graduation from the Ranger leadership course. Until they made it through the course, they were only Ranger candidates and had the MOS designation 11xray.
But Ulrich kept his cool and said nothing of how he felt. He stood a good chance of achieving Brigadier General before he retired if he continued to play the cooperative bootlicker. He just couldn't understand why the Army would want soft girly troops poisoning the military, lowering standards, causing friction in units, and jeopardizing the mission. It's not as if the military was hurting for recruits. In Ulrich's opinion, all the branches should be even MORE selective in their choice of soldier. They'd be stronger if they pushed the troops harder, whittled recruits down to only the best, the most dedicated. Instead, over his career he'd seen standards relaxed, training diluted, and increased pampering. Hell, these days Drill Instructors weren't even allowed to physically correct a recruit during Basic or verbally harass them with slurs or insults. Any correction had to be training or task related. Soon, Ulrich thought, some genius will decide you couldn't cuss at recruits at all. That would be a sad fucking day for America if that happened. When Ulrich had gone through the BAC way back when, the Cadre could hit you if you fucked up. You got called every low blow name in the book, they'd call your mother a whore, tell you to cut your own dick off because you were a pathetic excuse for a man, call you a retard, a cum-gargling shit for brains piece of garbage waste of time and effort and punctuate each word with a kick, punch or slap as well as enough spit in your face to drown a rat. So if you fucked up, you only did it once. At least the Ranger Course hadn't been severely watered down, although they still had to accommodate common sense directives that were intended to keep candidates alive, like minimum food and water and allowing a soldier to `tap out' and recycle because of illness or injury. In his opinion it just bred softness rather than the toughness they needed from their troops. Still, every year there was the chance a candidate could die during the course, but that chance was getting smaller and smaller. Special Operations training were the only courses left that tested candidates to the absolute limit but that was because the candidates were selected from the best of the best rather than a general population free for all sign-up like Airborne and Ranger. The Army and Marines saw the value in having a well rounded soldier who had a basic skills toolkit and the Air Force and Navy had specialized Occupations that found Airborne and Ranger skills useful. And although they were easy to forget when most people thought of the military, the Coast Guard were the forward line of defense in coastal waters and they needed robust training as well.
So todays Army wasn't what it used to be, in his opinion. The men were hard back in his day. Tough. Brutal killing machines. They battled hard, played hard and the wheat was separated from the chaff. Not these coddled babies who cried and ran to mommy if they got a bruise. And now panty wearing faggots got to rub shoulders with real men, probably drooling over all the sweating dick they got to see. It was fucking disgusting. If the next step was allowing women in combat, he'd leave the military. Actually, women would be better than fags. At least women were useful and they'd probably put their units in less danger on a battlefield because no sane soldier would put his life in the hands of a woman in a fight. But some poor schmuck was definitely going to count on a limp wristed cocksucker to do more than scream and wilt at the violence of a battlefield, and that was going to get him killed. Shit, let the fags join the Navy or the Air Force, hell you could even let them have their own branch Ass Pounders' or Pew Pew Pansies' and they could do things like clean the latrines, straighten up TEMPERS, cook, be secretaries, do laundry...all the stuff real men shouldn't be doing so they could concentrate on war.
At least Major Collins had agreed the two Platoons couldn't mix with normal troops during holdover.
"I don't care what you do with them, Major. I don't have anywhere to put them. I'm not putting them in the TLQ even if we had the room, I've got no free barracks that aren't undergoing maintenance, and they can't quarter with the other holdovers." He'd told Collins. "Send `em on leave for all I care. Just have them back by RIP intake."
In fact, just as the words came out of his mouth Ulrich thought that was perfect. Two weeks of leave just before the most rigorous training these soft little princesses had ever seen? They'd fail the Ranger course in spectacular fashion. Probably wouldn't make it through the first week.
Collins really didn't want to send the Bravos and Charlies on leave, but honestly they'd been in training since the previous May, and once they started Ranger School it would be another two months before they had any opportunity at all to see their family and friends. No Thanksgiving to speak of, no Christmas, they'd trained right through those weeks.
So he decided four days leave, then back here, which was time he needed to set something up. He had some phone calls to make to set up his plan after they returned. Ulrich's refusal to quarter or give them holdover assignments ended up being a useful opportunity, and he wouldn't waste it. He also wasn't going to waste his two Marines on holdover duty who were slotted for the Ranger class as well.
ASSMUNCH
"Last jump tomorrow. Combat night jump, are you assholes ready?" Cellblock asked as we double-timed to the gym for our nightly workout.
"HUAH!" The guys answered in a confident shout.
"LET'S RUN GRUNTS! WE'RE INFANTRY NOT AIRBORNE!" He shouted and counted off to increase pace just before we and the Charlies started in on a 6 minute mile pace, much faster than the 9 minute mile pace required by the Cadre. Unencumbered by gear and packs the pace was a welcome opportunity to actually stretch our legs. For long runs, a 9 minute mile was comfortable, but sometimes you just had to open up the throttle. The excitement and intensity of reaching the end of their Airborne training filled us with energy and we arrived at the gym five minutes later.
As usual, the guys broke off in groups to do their own workouts. I led my group to the mats for their evening session with Major Collins who was already there, wearing his silkies and a tight Marine issue tee shirt that stretched to fit his impressive physique. Look, I'm not going to lie to you, the man was impressive and even his crotch bulged with excess meat. Major Collins was everything you'd imagine an older Marine officer to be - fit, serious, intense, confident. He was the type that every word that came out of his mouth felt like an order. No, he didn't bark. It was a feeling in the words. It's hard to describe. Like... he could be standing looking out a window at the sun coming up and just speak Coffee' like he was making an observation... and you'd just understand he was telling you to get him a cup of coffee, or you'd just think if he wants coffee, I'll get him coffee'. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but that's the best way I can describe it. He didn't have to order you to do something, he just had to mention it and you'd WANT to do it. In spite of all that he also possessed this calm superiority that could easily come across as arrogance and derision. After almost two weeks of meeting with him every evening I knew it wasn't arrogance. He simply knew where he stood. I got the feeling that although there was someone who gave Major Collins orders and he was under someone's command it wasn't a relationship of superior and junior. No, Major Collins developed relationships of mutual respect. I seriously doubted that anyone would meet the Marine and fail to recognize his capability, his proficiency, his intelligence and his presence. It was a presence that gave you confidence that you could never catch him unawares or unprepared, or if there was a crisis he would know how to deal with it. I wanted to be just like him.
There aren't many people you meet in your life who fit the definition of hero for you. I think everyone has a different set of qualifications for that title, and bestowing it, even secretly, provokes an instant internal argument about worthiness. You will never give that title casually. The person has to fit a very strict set of requirements but there is always one requirement that is the same for everyone: there can be no discernible character flaws. And right now I couldn't find a single flaw in Major Collins. And even when he didn't have to, when we didn't deserve it, he treated a bunch of young Army Privates as men worthy of his time. Major had my deep respect and more than anything he was someone I wanted to emulate.
"Everyone take a seat, breathe down from your run, get your heartbeat down to one beat per second. By now it shouldn't take you long to calm your body." Collins spoke. "Master the physical with your mind. Remember you are in control, you decide the state of your muscles, your nerves, your organs. If you are tired, refuse to be tired. If you are in pain, refuse the pain. You are in control. You decide. Internalize that as a foundational belief, an unshakeable truth. When your mind believes it to be true, it IS true. Breathe in - two - three, Out - two-three." Collins' voice was low, monotone, soothing and hypnotic. "When you're ready, close your eyes and find your center. Empty your mind."
I now found the transition easy and immediate. I no longer had to go through the process of erasing all feeling and existence of my limbs one by one, then my core, then my head. I floated free in the emptiness with no effort now. While I still had to close my eyes to initiate the transition, it took no time at all for my mind to shift.
My instructions from the Major were to maintain this mental state through my entire workout, through conversations with my men, all interactions and physical activity. I'd been practicing at odd moments during my training and it was amazing to me how calm and clear my mind felt, how confident and efficient my body motions were. Decisions were immediate and sure, and when I spoke my words came easy and I expressed my thoughts exactly. Everything was easier when I didn't try to control every motion, thought and word and instead let my automatic brain handle as much as it could, which left my conscious mind to actually think, consider, and examine the input from the world. The effect was an oxymoron... I responded faster but in an unhurried, relaxed, smooth and almost casual way. It was... it was like being weightless.
The clarity of focus I possessed in this state felt amazing to me. As my eyes glanced over the twelve or so Bravos that were in the weight room I could immediately read their intentions, see their actions in relation to a purpose and figure out from their interactions where their heads were in this moment.
Weeble had a steely determination now, something he hadn't ever elicited in the 8 months I'd known him. He'd always been determined but it was weakened by worry, a bit of desperation, and a belief he was inferior and had to catch up. This steel I saw in him now felt dangerous. He was giving off a distinct `don't fuck with me' vibe and had I sensed he was on the edge of losing control I might have stepped in. Instead, I felt proud of him because rather than sensing erratic unpredictability, this steely determination was solid. He was interacting with the brothers like he was one of them, finally. He didn't seem small anymore.
I turned my focus onto Zeus, curious about what I might see. Just about all the time Zeus was a featureless pane of smooth glass. He didn't emote, he didn't look around in curiosity, he barely spoke. Stoic and stone. But now, even though Zeus was no more animated than usual I could see subtle behaviors: the quick dart of his eyes towards Sleeper; how when Sleeper was near him Zeus leaned slightly, just barely towards him; the way Zeus's eyes softened just a bit when Sleeper spoke. The clues were so minute and tiny a casual observer would never see them. Just then Sleeper said something to Zeus out of the side of his mouth, a whispered comment, something private. Zeus lit up to my senses like a fucking atomic bomb went off: Joy, happiness, love, so intense and bright and then just as fast restraint and ... shame? Even as an observer that felt like a spear plunged into my gut. And looking over to Sleeper, standing just a foot away from Zeus... sadness, confusion, desire and desolation. Sleeper lifted his hand an inch towards Zeus and just as quickly aborted the movement. Intense frustration came off my best friend in pulsating waves. A brief moment that took 3 seconds to elapse immolated all hope and happiness. I guess they'd made a decision. I just hoped they could live with it. I knew what they were giving up. I lived two years with the sort of pain they were going to endure. The reasons they were telling themselves, the necessity they felt right now, none of those things mattered, but I was reluctant to interfere. I couldn't save them from this. And I couldn't watch it crumble anymore, not in this state where I saw every wound they inflicted upon each other. It was too easy to see myself and Kevin in their place. I looked away. Men, in their attempt to be stronger men, are fools. Every fucking one of us.
Letting my eyes roam around the weight room I saw Major Collins looking directly at me. I saw his eyes dart over to Sleeper and Zeus, then back at me. His stare was direct. Had I not been in this state his examination would have felt awkward and uncomfortable. I know he saw everything I saw. His look was intended to tell me he knew, and that he knew that I knew. His face gave nothing else away. He didn't have to reveal that, I could tell he had the control that would never reveal anything he didn't want anyone to know. He meant for me to see that. He also meant for me to know he was studying me. Studying all the Bravos. It wasn't information I didn't already have, he'd just about told me during our brief question and answer session Monday night. But in this situation, I felt like he was more interested in my reaction to what I saw. I couldn't help feeling like a lab rat. I also wondered if knowing that he was watching me would change my behavior. A quick calculation told me it didn't matter and I didn't care. It wouldn't change the things I did. I dismissed the Major from my awareness. This mental state made such decisions easy. I watched Chunk, Alaska and Cellblock working out together. Solid, dedicated guys completely focused on their current task of dumbbell shoulder presses. Behind them I saw Lamont from the Charlies, his gaze seemed fixed on Chunk's beefy ass that was tightly encased in his stretched Army sweats. Interesting.
LAMONT
His fight to resist scoping out the fit, muscular soldiers around him in the gym was halfhearted at best. Although it wasn't the best ass in the room, Tanner's butt was a favorite because it reminded him of a guy from his previous unit, his roommate in the barracks dorm, Chad Benton. Benton and he weren't really friends, more like a relationship forced through shared habitation. Benton was one of those straight guys that had a naturally tough masculinity that made him oblivious to everyone else's wants, needs or irritations. Or maybe it was his inherent brainless dumbness. When he undressed, he threw whatever he'd been wearing on the floor of their room. He didn't talk to Lamont much and resorted to non-committal grunts most of the time if he bothered to respond at all. Benton had a muscular, beefy body that was at least partially on display at all times, six foot tall with dark hair and an ever present 5 o'clock shadow in spite of being clean shaven. He was one of those beefy guys that didn't have to work out to maintain muscle. As he got older Benton would lose the fitness of youth though, and he'd just turn fat. Benton barely maintained regs in his appearance, somewhat sloppy and careless. Lamont would have written him off completely if it hadn't been for two prominent physical attributes - his big, beautiful muscular ass, and his thick, meaty cock and balls. His complete lack of personality could be forgiven because of those two gifts which he proudly paraded daily in the showers and in their room. Lamont's favorite mental picture of Benton was when he laid naked on his bed with his legs spread wide, his back leaned up against his pillow against the wall and one knee up, allowing Lamont a direct view of his heavy flaccid cock surrounded by dark and dense pubic hair, usually reading a comic book. Maybe just looking at the pictures, Lamont was sure Benton wasn't that good at reading. Just below his large nutsack, because of the position of his legs, Lamont also had a clear view of Benton's tight puckered asshole. Lamont imagined Tanner's ass (The Bravos called him Chunk) was exactly like Benton's, and he wondered if it would feel just as good sliding his dick in Tanner's ass as it had fucking Benton.
Lamont felt a little sorry for Benton, but not too much. Benton wasn't much smarter than a rock. The term Dumb Grunt was custom made for Benton, just a big lug of muscle who had to be pointed in the right direction and told what to do. You couldn't expect him to think anything through and Lamont suspected most of the time Benton didn't understand anything someone said to him.
The most Lamont had ever heard Benton say in one period of time was the first time he'd fucked the straight boy's tight meaty ass. It had been easier than he'd thought it was going to be.
Benton came back to the room after duty one day in a bad mood. Unwisely, Lamont asked what was wrong, but in retrospect everything that followed happened because for once Benton didn't just grunt in response.
"Sergeant yelled at me." Benton said without elaborating.
"What for?" Lamont asked, trying to talk himself out of investing any more energy in Benton's fuck up. He really didn't care, Benton was always fucking up.
"I fell asleep."
`Again? Yeah, of course you did, on duty', Lamont thought to himself. He watched Benton strip off his uniform, letting the various pieces drop wherever he was standing at the time they left his body. Lamont knew Benton would pick them up in the morning and wear them again, including his underwear. His uniform would be wrinkled, probably smell like day old sweat, and their Sarge would yell at him again. In the meantime, for the rest of the evening Benton would step on them or kick them out of his way.
When he was finished stripping naked, Benton stepped over to his bed and flopped face down, his meaty muscled ass globes jiggling like jello as he settled. Briefly, Benton pushed himself to his knees on all fours to readjust his pillow, exposing every juicy inch of his ass, his tight puckered pink hole, his big hanging balls, all of it facing Lamont and sending a jolt to his dick. If it had been anyone else, someone smarter, Lamont would have taken it for a signal, or maybe not. It wasn't a position any self respecting man would assume in front on another, knees spread, ass pushed out, hole exposed, all of it pointed directly at another man's face. But Benton was oblivious, so fucking dumb. Lamont wondered how dumb, and decided to test it.
He got up from his bed and walked over. "Sorry Benton." He said, trying to sound sympathetic. He put a hand on Benton's shoulder. The big animal just grunted. "How about a rubdown? It'll make you feel better." He said, putting just enough disinterest in his voice that it couldn't be taken as any sort of eagerness on his part.
Another grunt. Lamont took that as a yes.
He started slow at the shoulders, still off to the side, kneading and pushing the thick muscles in his hands. He moved down to Benton's shoulder blades, then flared his hands to grab and pushed back up to his traps.
Benton groaned. "Harder" he mumbled.
"Okay, but I have to get on top to put more pressure." Lamont said, and stood up. He undid the buckle on his uniform trousers and lowered them.
Benton opened one eye. "Why are you taking off your pants?"
Lamont shrugged. "My buckle. You're naked, it's going to dig in and might cut you. Don't worry, I'm keeping my underwear on."
Benton's answering grunt and subsequent closing his eyes was an agreement. Lamont removed his BDU trousers the rest of the way and laid them carefully on the end of his bunk. If Benton was still looking, he'd see Lamont's boxers tented with a rigid hard on. But he wasn't looking, and what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Much.
Lamont straddled Benton's hips and nestled his crotch right on Benton's meaty, round ass before returning his hands to Benton's back and started back in on the wide expanse of his roommate's upper back. As he pushed, massaged, and manipulated the hardness there, he made sure to grind his now leaking dick into the part of Benton he was really after. With the constant movement over the course of the next few minutes, his cock had found its way out of the fly of his boxers and was now sliding freely up and down Benton's crack which was generously coated with a lubricating layer of precum. Benton appeared relaxed and unaware. Perhaps he was asleep. His breathing was regular and slow. Lamont took a moment to pull his balls through the fly as well, then resumed his motions. He began long rubs up Benton's back, slowly descending along his spine with every stroke until he was starting and ending at the top of Benton's beefy ass. The feel of Benton's hot wet asscheeks on his cock and balls was a sweet torture and he now had a constant and steady flow of pre cum going. He went lower onto Benton's ass with his hands, always making sure to return up his broad back before resuming his way down. On his third trip he pushed Benton's cheeks apart and pushed his throbbing cock between them before letting them go. Benton didn't move, his breathing hadn't changed. He made sure to keep his motions slow, steady, and smooth, enjoying the enveloping heat of Benton's ass cheeks as he slid between them, up and down. He pulled his hips back a little further, letting his cock head begin at a lower point. He knew it was somewhere close to Benton's asshole, that pink pucker he wanted to slide his dick inside. He pushed gently, until his cock slid up this dumb grunt's valley and his balls rested against him. It was going to take everything he had not to penetrate him. But the dance of uncertainty was its own pleasure.
He continued his constant attention to Benton's back while continuing his thrusts between cheeks, often having to readjust as his dick caught on the deeper crease of Benton's asshole.
"You still awake, Benton?" He asked, keeping his voice soft and low.
A short grunt was his only answer. So the animal was awake. He either didn't realize it was Lamont's hard cock knocking at his back door, or didn't care. He decided to continue everything he'd been doing. Maybe Benton was enjoying the massage enough that he liked the sensations he was getting. Lamont knew a little asshole rubbing felt pretty good. The next time his cock caught on the edge of Benton's hole, he left it there and simply varied the pressure as he rubbed up and down Benton's back with his hands.
After about ten seconds, Benton grunted and said "What are you doing?"
Lamont stopped. "What do you mean? I'm rubbing your back. You want me to stop?"
Benton was quiet for a few seconds. "No, I guess if you're just doing my back it's okay. Just...."
"What Benton?"
"I dunno. Nothing I guess. It just feels like you're doing something to my ass." He said in a sleepy voice.
"Nah man, I'm just sitting on it. But you know there's nerves in your back that go down to your ass. If I press on them, it'll feel like a sensation in your ass." Lamont explained.
"Really?" Benton replied, puzzled.
"Yeah man. You didn't know that? Wow. I thought everyone knew that. Here, I'll show you." Lamont said, moving back. "Let's see, it should be somewhere around here...just relax, you'll feel a jolt when I find it." With one hand, Lamont pretended to focus on an area near Benton's spine on his lower back. With his other, he guided his dick towards Benton's lower ass crack. "Here?" He said, pressing down and rubbing his dick on the skin just at the top of Benton's thick thighs where his ass started.
"It's close, but not like before." Benton mumbled.
"Maybe here?" Lamont chose an area an inch away by his spine, and simultaneously pushed his dick into Benton's crack, right at his hole.
"Unnnnnggggghhhh, yeah, that's it." He groaned.
"Does it hurt?" Lamont asked, grinning and exerting pressure.
"Ahhhhhhhh, no, just weird, unnnnnggghhhh."
Lamont kept going. "Good weird or bad weird?"
"Not bad weird. Oh wow. That's just from a nerve?" Benton grunted, sliding his legs apart a bit more.
"You want me to stop?"
"N-n-no... just rub it, okay? You can keep going."
"Okay, man. I'm just trying to help you relax. You want me to stay on this spot for a bit? I've had it done before, after a while it feels pretty good." He could feel his dick spurt out another stream of precum right on Benton's hole.
"Yeah, it feels nice."
Lamont chuckled softly. "Depending on how hard or soft I press on the nerve, it'll feel different, but don't worry. It's just your brain being fooled, like hitting your elbow sends sparks to your hands."
And he began rubbing down into the spot on Benton's back alternating pressure and the area while gradually thrusting his hips. He noticed Benton's hips moving with him, his legs trying to spread.
Eventually Benton said "You can do it harder. It's so weird that a massage does this."
"Are you sure? It might hurt. I don't want to hurt you, just get you to relax. You sure you can take it? Remember, it's like your elbow...sometimes it just tingles, sometimes it hurts like a motherfucker."
"Yeah, it's okay. I won't get mad if it hurts." Benton mumbled. Lamont noticed he was drooling.
"Okay, here goes, say stop if you can't take it."
Lamont took both thumbs and pushed into the spot on Benton's spine while pushing with his hips. He felt Benton's hole spread open around his cock.
"Oooooooofffffffff", Benton released the air in his lungs.
"that's it buddy, doing great. How's that feel?" He asked, still keeping the pressure.
"So weird, but like I'm taking a shit."
"Yeah, I guess it does feel a little like that. But that's normal. The only time your asshole ever feels anything is when you shit, so it makes sense it would feel like that. Don't worry, you aren't actually taking a shit, it's just your brain being fooled."
"Fuck... ". Benton groaned as Lamont very slowly eased deeper in, then pulled back. Benton spread his legs a little more.
Lamont was close. His cock had already been primed and ready when he was stroking up and down Benton's ass cheeks, and now that he was halfway inside the snug warm virgin grunt hole he felt his balls churning. He kept his movements steady, in and out in perfect time with his hands rubbing the spot he'd told Benton made his ass feel like that.
The beefy muscle ape was moaning with what sounded like satisfaction.
Lamont suddenly felt his cum begin to boil up and he knew he had to keep his orgasm quiet, but it was going to be extremely difficult. It was going to be intense, and he knew it was going to be one of the hottest cums he'd ever had. Benton didn't even know he was being fucked. He was so beautifully stupid. The situation was even more erotic because Lamont hadn't set out to actually get his dick inside Benton this time. He thought he'd have to play a long seduction game which may or may not have paid off. But this, this was incredible. His hot jizz began pouring out of his cock, he could feel it flowing up his shaft and sizzling past the opening of his piss slit, spraying out into Benton's slimy muscle chute. Long spurt after long spurt kept flowing, amazing Lamont with the sheer volume he knew he was depositing secretly inside Benton's straight man ass. He imagine an ever growing thick puddle of white cum filling Benton's hole. Fuck, that felt so good. So fucking hot. He felt the last spasms take him.
He knew he was breathing a little hard. He used it as an excuse. "Shit, man, that takes a lot of energy. Let me lay off for now, do the rest of you, cool?"
"Okay. That was good. Thanks for showing me that." Benton replied, still mumbling into his sheets as Lamont slowly let up pressure on Benton's back muscle while he pulled his dick free from the ape's tight muscle hole.
"Did you like it? When I had it done to me it felt kinda good when I got used to the feeling." Lamont said, trying to keep his breath moderately under control.
"Yeah, I liked the warm part at the end."
Lamont chuckled. "I don't know anything about that, man, but I'm not an expert at this so anything is possible. Glad you liked it. Let me do your ass and legs, if you want me to keep going. But not for much longer, hitting that muscle so hard kind wore me out."
"It's okay. I'm gonna sleep." Benton said, and within seconds he was snoring softly. After returning to his bunk Lamont watched Benton curl up on his side after a few minutes, and he could see his cum leak out of Bentons still wet and shiny asshole. The sight almost made him get up and walk over to shove his still hard dick back in.
Lamont was surprised when just a few days later Benton asked for another massage, and not long into it he said "do that thing again" which Lamont was only too happy to perform. Soon, Lamont could tell Benton enjoyed that part the most, which made him a little more aggressive, fucking Benton deeper, a couple times he did him twice in a row. Benton always fell asleep after. He never commented on the cum dripping out of his ass.
After a couple weeks of daily `massages', Lamont realized the effort was not as much of a thrill as it had first been, so he embarked on another plan. He withheld his dick, which confused Benton immensely.
"Why doesn't it feel like that anymore?" he asked Lamont.
"I don't know, man." Lamont lied. "Maybe you're desensitized. You can overwork a nerve, you know. Like how if you sit wrong your leg goes numb? Maybe it's like that. I'm pushing on it like I always have."
Benton grunted. He did not like that answer.
"Will it come back?" Poor, dumb Benton.
"Maybe. Can you still feel it when you take a shit?" He asked.
Benton nodded. "Took a big one this morning, felt real good. Like a big snake coming out."
Lamont closed his eyes. "Too much information, Benton. I don't want to know how big your dumps are."
"Well it was. I eat a lot." Benton continued, oblivious as usual.
"So your asshole is fine, it's the nerve in your back that's overworked." Lamont said, trying to change the subject.
"So how do I get it back?" The clueless look on Benton's face would have been laughable if Lamont didn't already understand Benton couldn't add 2 and 2 together.
"Hell if I know, man. Have you tried playing with your ass?"
"That's dirty." Benton scowled.
Lamont sighed. "Well then looks like you're out of luck. Sorry man. Maybe it'll come back if you leave it alone for a while." Lamont said as if he didn't care whether Benton got his `feeling' again or not.
It only took a week before Benton came back to their barracks room with a comically determined look on his face. After throwing his uniform, underwear, undershirt and socks all over the room he sat on his bed facing Lamont, naked and legs spread, his meat hanging down to rest against the bed. "Show me how." Was all he said in his rough, grunting voice.
Lamont looked up at him. "Show you what?"
Benton at least had the sense to look a slight bit embarrassed. But he soldiered on. "The ass thing. Show me how to do the ass thing. I gotta sleep, and I sleep better after."
"You want me to play with your ass? Dude, that's dirty, like you said. You haven't even showered. Go scrub it clean and maybe. I don't go around playing with a dude's asshole, so you're going to owe me big." Lamont replied.
Benton hopped up immediately, as if he was eager. Lamont got a small surge of enjoyment from seeing Benton's fairly thick soft cock and heavy nuts bounce. He wondered how big it got when it was hard. Lamont had seen and played with enough dicks to suspect it was the kind that didn't get too much longer, just puffed up thick. But he knew touching Benton's dick was a definite deal breaker. Every interaction they'd had was when Benton was face down on his stomach. Lamont wondered if getting fucked made Benton hard, even if he didn't realize he was being fucked.
So Lamont waited until Benton got back from the shower, his towel over his shoulder. It wasn't unusual to see the guys walking to or from the shower naked wearing only flip flops and carrying their grooming items in one hand, their towel in the other.
Benton threw his towel on the floor, almost exactly in the same spot he'd gotten it from before he left. Who knew how many days he'd used it? He laid face down on his bunk and said "show me". He fidgeted a little, spreading his legs apart slightly.
Lamont decided that was not good enough, he went over with his pillow, and grabbed Benton's pillow as well. "On your knees, let's get these pillows under your hips. I can't see what I'm working with." Benton obeyed with a grunt and soon Lamont had Benton's beefy muscle ass propped up and spread, exposing his still wet hole from the shower. Just for fun, Lamont grabbed each of Benton's cheeks and spread them further apart. "Did you clean it good?"
A grunt. Then he said "twice" out loud.
Lamont leaned in and sniffed. "Smells clean. Fine. Look, I have no idea what I'm doing, so I'm just going to try stuff, you say if it's good, or close to what you felt before, okay?"
One grunt.
Just seeing Benton spread open, propped up, ready for anything Lamont was going to do to his tight linebacker ass had Lamont hard and leaking. Now Benton was doing it willingly and he wanted Lamont to touch his ass. Lamont figured he pretty much had an open door to do whatever he could think of.
"Wait!" Benton suddenly said, pushing up onto his hands and knees and looking back at Lamont.
"What?" Lamont asked, taking his hands off Benton's ample butt.
"Don't tell no one." Benton growled.
Lamont heaved a sigh. "Dude, do you think I'm going to tell anyone I put my hands all over a guy's ass, touched his asshole? Hell no. And you better not tell anyone either. This shit is fucked up, and I'm only doing it because you asked and we're roommates. Don't tell anyone about any of this, not the massages, the nerve, this shit. They're only going to ask a lot of questions and laugh."
Benton scowled and screwed up his face in a grimace. "Yeah. Okay. Do it."
Lamont felt a momentary irritation at what sounded like a command, as if Benton was in any way in control of this situation. But, Lamont guessed that Benton needed to feel like he was the one making all this happen. Benton flopped back down, crossed his arms and laid his cheek on them while his ass was raised and exposed.
"Here, spread your legs a bit more." Lamont said, pushing Bentons knees even further apart and up along side his hips. Damn, Benton's little butthole was so tight and tiny there between his big meaty cheeks. Lamont reached out and ran his thumb over it while stretching Benton's cheeks even further apart.
Benton moaned. "Is that it, man?"
"No, it feels good though." Benton pushed back against his thumb as he was swirling it around the ape's shitter.
"That's just my thumb. You want more?" Lamont asked.
He received a single grunt in response.
Lamont drooled a healthy wad of spit right down on Benton's hole, then rubbed it in, before dropping even more into Benton's crack. Benton continued moaning, so Lamont pressed harder with his thumb.
"Unnnnnngggghhhhh, yeah, yeah" Benton grunted and pushed back.
Lamont fished his hard cock through the fly on his boxers and laid it between Benton's cheeks alongside his thumb. He milked his shaft to push out a long rope of precum then rubbed it around Benton's hole with his dick. He knew it was time to go in. He pushed his thumb just inside the outer rim of Benton's hot little sphincter and Benton gasped.
"Ooooooohhhhh, yeah. More. It feels so close."
"Yeah?" Lamont asked. "That's my thumb going up your ass, is that what you want? You want me to finger your hole?"
Benton grunted and pushed back. "I need to hear you say it, Benton. I need to know I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want. Tell me you want me to go up your ass, inside you."
Benton moaned. "Yeah, feels good. Do it deeper."
Lamont chuckled. Benton was still shying away from begging to have his hole violated. Too much man, not enough brains. Big, dumb, and tough. Lamont put his index and middle finger in his mouth, then pushed both inside Benton's tight hole.
"Oh fuck...that's it." Benton groaned. "It feels the same. Unnnnggghhhh" Lamont watched Benton's meaty body completely relax and at the same time his hole loosened. Lamont began twisting his fingers, pulling on Benton's muscle ring and slowly moving in and out. He noticed Benton moving his hips along with the movement, undulating the round globes of his glutes while he was being fingered.
"More, do more." Benton demanded, his fists gripping the bed sheets tight. His eyes were closed and a wet drool mark was appearing below his mouth.
Lamont grinned. "You want more? I have something a little bigger if you think it'll work."
"Yeah. I want it." Benton grunted in pleasure.
"Okay, here goes." Lamont didn't bother using more spit, just milked his cock for more precum that he smeared over Benton's now pliable hole. Something about this beast submitting himself like this really had Lamont's blood pumping. He slid his hard 7 inches slowly through the dumb ape's orifice, relishing the feel of the warm flesh gripping the circumference of his cock.
"Unnnnnggghhhhh, more." Benton didn't have many words. He also was severely limited in the noises he made. A grunt, a growl, a moan, that was it.
For the first time, Lamont buried his cock in Benton's warm fuck meat to the balls. It felt so fucking good, the heat, the pressure, the grip, how his balls pressed against Benton's taint, feeling the generous cushion of Benton's round ass against his hips. Lamont ground his hips side to side. Benton was meeting him with small grinding movements of his own. Lamont grabbed Benton by the hips and pulled back, then buried his cock again.
Benton suddenly stiffened up and jerked his head up. "What are you doing?"
Lamont snorted. "Putting my dick in you, that's what you wanted." He took another thrust, making Benton grunt.
"No! Stop!" And Benton pulled off. "That's dirty. You didn't tell me it was your dick."
Lamont crossed his arms over his chest. "Hey, you're the one that wanted this, I'm just doing this to help you out. Whatever man. Play with your own ass. You think I have shit laying around to stick up your ass? You wanted more, my dick was the only thing I had. I didn't want to do all this to begin with. Look, I'm not judging you for liking your ass messed with. I like it sometimes myself. But you need to get your head right or don't do it at all."
"It's gay. I'm not gay." Benton scowled, and by this time he'd turned his ass away from Lamont and sat on his heels, grabbed a pillow and put it over his crotch.
Lamont shook his head. "Whatever man. It's only gay if you're into dudes. If you're not into dudes, it's just like getting your back scratched, or when you get your hair cut and the barber puts his hands all over your head. Do you care when the medic does a hernia check at physicals? Or he does a prostate check and sticks his finger in your ass? No, you don't. So you don't really care when a guy puts his hands on you or puts things in your ass. But somehow, you're mad at ME."
Benton's angry face relaxed a bit. "Okay. But it's your dick."
Lamont raised his eyebrows. "So what? You said it felt real good up until you knew it was my dick. Fuck, this is stupid, sitting here naked talking about this bullshit. Go get a carrot from the commissary and play with your own ass."
Benton's shoulders deflated. "Is that what you do?"
"What? Stick carrots in my ass? Nah. Trust me, it doesn't feel good. But I don't know what choice you have."
It took all of two weeks for Benton to break down and agree to get his ass fucked. Lamont secretly suspected Benton had actually been trying different things to stick up his ass and he couldn't find the same satisfaction.
Even though Lamont wanted to fuck Benton brutally to take out some of his bad temper over Benton's stupidity, he held himself back and actually made an effort to really give Benton a good dick down he would enjoy so instead of jackhammering him he took it slow and easy, smooth and reserved. The result was the same as always: Benton face down, eyes closed, mouth open and drooling, body completely limp, moaning like a 2 dollar whore.
Lamont did wonder if Benton experienced a sexual thrill from it, or just enjoyed the experience of focusing on his ass and forgetting about everything else. At first Lamont had a crisis of conscience about the whole thing. The first time honestly just happened, it got away from him. He usually only fucked around with civilians off base. Fucking another Army broke almost all of his rules. Plus, manipulating poor dumb Benton who only had half a brain, if he even had that much, was morally questionable at best. With anyone else, Lamont would have shrugged and told himself `hey, they're a grown man, they know what's up, they're just choosing to play along'. But not Benton, he truly didn't know any better.
However, Benton wasn't just stupid. He was inconsiderate, sloppy, careless, neglected his duty, picked on junior soldiers who couldn't fight back and was in general gross, a bully, always in a foul mood and treated everyone like a dick. Everyone in the unit had to pick up Benton's slack. He was probably the most useless soldier Lamont had ever met, definitely the most useless human being. So while Lamont may have felt a twinge of guilt for turning the stupid ape into his fuck puppet, the guilt didn't last long. And even back when Benton didn't realize he was getting fucked, he'd never even said a single thank you' for the massages at least, forget about making his ass feel good. No, Lamont no longer felt like an asshole for using Benton's muscle chute to dump a hot load. Hell, Benton was so fucking dumb he hadn't even realized he was getting pumped full of jizz almost every afternoon. He just thought the warm part' was the end of the massage.
And `the warm part' was going to happen soon. Lamont had been slow dicking Benton for a good twenty minutes, varying his angle, his depth, pulling all the way out while keeping Benton's ass cheeks spread so that his hole gaped open, then sliding just the head it and out. Benton liked that part.
"I'm almost done, man." Lamont said.
Grunt.
`Fuck you' Lamont thought. That was where they were at. Benton didn't give a fuck about Lamont, just needed him to service his ass. Lamont didn't give a single fuck about Benton, just enjoyed the feel of Benton's hole, and the thrill of turning this dumb straight muscle grunt into his personal willing fuckhole.
Well, this time was going to be a first, which Lamont would enjoy. He'd be burying his cock balls deep shooting his nut as deep up Benton's hole as he could get it. He'd always had to finish shallow before, so that Benton wouldn't feel his hips against his ass. This time Lamont began thrusting hard as he felt the cum boil up and his balls begin to churn.
"Oh...Yeah...Oh...good....unnnghhh....unnnghhhh..." Benton was actually enjoying the rougher fuck. So Lamont really gave it to him.
"Oh...oh....oh...fuck....oh God...oh no....oh fuck...OH...OH...OH" Benton started breathing hard and something about it told Lamont Benton was probably having an orgasm.
"Here comes the warm part." Lamont whispered and jammed his hard 7 inches all the way in and started emptying his balls inside the ape's fuckhole. It took about five thrusts to finish completely as Lamont pushed down on Benton's shoulder with his hands, pinning Benton's ass with his hips. After a few seconds, Lamont dismounted.
As usual, Benton just grunted, rolled onto his side, pulled his blanket up and curled up to fall asleep and snore.
`You're welcome, fucking ape'. Lamont went to take a shower, and after that he got his uniform ready for tomorrow. He wondered if the other guys in the unit were doing anything this evening, he didn't want to stay in the room.
Lamont realized he'd been daydreaming and his mind came back to focus. He realized he'd been staring at Chunk's ass and wondered how long he'd been daydreaming. Yeah, Chunk had the same type ass as Benton, big, full, hard...like a rugby player, it literally threatened to break out of his stretched sweat pants. He took a quick glance around to see if anyone had noticed, but it looked like everyone else was busy. Everyone except Harris...uh Assmunch, he corrected himself. Assmunch was looking directly at him. That dude didn't miss much. When Assmunch raised one eyebrow and a smirk touched his lips, Lamont grinned and shrugged. He saw a chuckle shake Assmunch's shoulders. They were beyond any animosity now, and had become Brothers. He pointed at Chunk's ass then held his hands up as if grabbing his ass cheeks, then put a look of surprise on his face. That made Assmunch laugh.
Well, it was going to be an early night, they'd be out of their racks at 0300, probably in the air at 0430 to start their night jump, which would take three hours to get everyone on the ground. Graduation was set for 0900. Lamont hoped to be fast asleep by 2130.