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Battle Buddies Chapter 26
"Conclusions?" Major Collins asked after Potter finished his debrief.
He took some time to think. Most of it he already put together while he and Battles trekked back to their camp. "The Bravos' strategy was effective for this target, but only because the size of the compound was manageable for a single Platoon. Leaving a rear guard of several squads kept their enemy from converging again, then allowed their forward elements to focus on breaking through. Casualties were minimized for the attacking force, and enough defense troops were neutralized that focusing entirely on their objective was possible. I think it would have gone differently if weapons were used. The lack of cover on approach would have made it a slaughter without another attacking force drawing the defense away from entry points. Also, weapons would have brought the rooftops into play allowing better coordination of the defense as well as domination of the entire battlefield. The Bravos would have had to engage at a distance, at least initially, slowing the pace of the battle considerably, and allowing the defenders more time to modify their plan on the fly. The chaos after initial contact and separation of the defense forces worked against the Charlies. It appeared as if the Charlies didn't have a secondary plan in place if initial contact didn't proceed as expected. They were unprepared, too confident in the superior position their fortified defense provided, too reliant on having the time and ability to pass battlefield orders."
Major Collins gave a short negative shake of his head. "You think. Suppositions and conjecture have no place in your information. If you aren't sure, it doesn't make it into your report. If more weapons were a factor, or their application, then relate that in a decisive way." But then he nodded. "Knowing all this, what would you change about the Charlies' decisions?"
Battles spoke up first. "There was no reason they should have let the Bravos dictate dividing up the defense into smaller groups. They were already surrounded. That was the mistake, not anything that happened after."
Potter looked at his friend. "That was the scenario, the conditions of the drill. You can't change that."
Battles shrugged. "Why not? The Charlies had the intel that an attack was imminent hours before engagement. The drill started then, not when contact was made. They allowed their enemy to surround them, gave them ground without putting a plan in place to compromise that advantage. That was fucking stupid. No one told them to allow themselves to be surrounded. The conditions of the exercise said there would be an attack on the compound and to prepare a defense. That was it. Their defense plan could have started right that minute. They could have sent up to half their forces out of the compound long before the Bravos converged and forced the Bravos to face a pincer or deal with the flanking force first. I sure wouldn't leave an enemy at my back. Instead, the Charlies probably thought they'd been given a gift of hours to develop a plan of defense. And they squandered it by doing nothing while they waited for the enemy to come to them."
"And how would acting sooner have changed the outcome?" Major Collins asked.
"The Bravos wouldn't have had the forces to surround the compound, leaving the Charlies a path for retreat or reinforcement at the very least." Battles said. "And the Bravos' ability to penetrate to the objective would be in serious doubt without that additional manpower because they would have had to choose one or two attack vectors instead of a perimeter wide simultaneous attack."
Major Collins once again relaxed to recline his beefy body back against his pack. "Excellent breakdown. Your information gathering and surveillance of the battlefield was well done, the progression of the attack was conveyed in clear, concise way, your evaluations and conclusions are well supported. But you've failed. Tell me why."
Potter scowled. His eyes darted over the mock compound made out of rocks and pine cones on the ground. He looked at Battles who was also scowling. He didn't speak. He didn't want to say anything wrong.
The Major grunted. "Nothing?" He paused for an answer. "Alright. Get some sleep. I have another mission for you in a few hours."
WEEBLE
He knew he should return to the hidden lair where Mole was waiting, but he wanted to watch at least the start of the exercise. Part of him was excited to tell Mole what he'd discovered. The other part wanted to be with his brothers.
He felt kinda good that he was able to sneak up on Sleeper and scare him.
Ordinarily he wouldn't be that good, but Sleeper's distraction made it way easier than it should have been.
Maybe that's part of it. He thought to himself. Inattention and distraction of the enemy. He resolved to ask Mole.
Oh! I just `bout did it to myself! Whisperman was still out here. Yeah that would suck, getting knifed while patting yourself on the back for how awesome you were at sneakin around.
He found a relatively concealed position that covered his back so he could watch the battle for the compound. He settled into a nice little pine straw and leaf mound. He didn't have long to wait, less than ten seconds, before the sharp POP POP POP of weapons fire broke the night. Small caliber, his ear told him, maybe a .22, definitely a sidearm.
He wore the night vision optics that he'd stolen from the underground warehouse, but they were tilted up on his forehead and inactive. In Germany the Bravos had a week of night operations instruction which included basic familiarity with night vision gear. Before then he thought all Infantry had access to whatever special gear was available but that assumption was destroyed when he found out no one in the Bravos had training in their use either. It turned out all that fancy stuff you saw in the movies was only available to special units. Most of the reason was money. Regular Infantry didn't get no secret missions deep in enemy territory surrounded by jungles and crazy stuff. You got the gear for the job you had. And sometimes, you didn't even get all that and had to fight without it. As Sarge said, the Army expected you to fight with a gun and your boots, and anything else was a luxury.
From the small rise he occupied, he could see a good portion of the perimeter and watched as multiple teams of Bravos ran forward to where matching teams of Charlies waited in hidden positions. But not all the Bravo teams moved initially, holding back for a secondary assault.
It felt strange watching it all happen from a distance. He knew just by how they moved who was who, saw Zeus' huge form and Sleeper's only slightly less huge form run towards the buildings. Across the compound he saw Troll, Olympic and Footlong running, and not far away from them was Eagle and Chunk. He didn't think that team was gonna get anywhere, Eagle didn't see much point in giving maximum effort most of the time. He did alright, but you could tell he thought being a grunt wasn't good enough for him. And without good support, poor Chunk was going down too.
Silent, AF and Cellblock ran fast, two forward one rear, on another vector. He chuffed with humor, thinking `vector' wasn't a word he'd ever thought he'd use, but damned if it didn't just worm its way into his brain after all his training and instruction. Dimples and Alaska matched the speed of the others and Weeble felt a moment of pride that even though no one was near the others, they moved as a synchronized unit perfectly timed for simultaneous contact. Maybe it was an accident, or coincidence. Another word he felt stupid using - coincidence. It meant the same as accident only fancy.
And then the lights went out. He scrambled to flip his optics down and switch them on. It was all dark, he couldn't see nothin'. Damn things were useless! Batteries dead or somethin'. Well, he needed to get back to Mole anyway. He flipped the optics back up and retreated from his position with slow, deliberate movements.
He didn't question the spark of danger that jolted him to action, diving to his left in a shoulder roll that brought him back to his feet in two seconds.
"Not bad. But you still let us sneak up on you, little puppy." The coarse gravel of Whisperman's voice sent a chill through him. He knew Mole was watching from his hideout fifteen yards away. His makeshift ghillie was now ruined from his frantic dive. Mole wasn't going to save him, not that it was necessary since he now knew Mole and Whisperman worked together. Whisperman wasn't going to kill him. But another cut wasn't out of the question.
For the first time he was able to see the Whisperman. Not the man himself, but his rough figure. No wonder Weeble had never caught him. He looked like one of those bushes with the tiny leaves that were everywhere here in the woods. His camouflage was complete. How many hours did it take him to do that?
"Get your night eyes back in position, little puppy." Whisperman continued. "This time, try flipping open the lens cover."
GodDAMMIT! Lens cover. So that daylight or bright lights didn't fry the electronics. He smashed the feeling of being stupid down as he repositioned the optics and opened the cover, revealing the details of the night in shades of eerie green. Another GODDAMMIT went through his head as he realized Whisperman had been watching him for longer than he'd realized if he saw him messin' with his optics.
"We're exposed up here. Why are you in the open, Hammer?" Mole's calm voice from behind Weeble, startling him even more.
"They aren't looking at the woods, Mole. You don't need to protect your little pet, I'm not gonna hurt him. Much. Got my own pet now." Whisperman replied.
Weeble saw Bootlicker crouching behind Whisperman. He didn't look like he was a prisoner. And he didn't look hurt, which sent a wave of relief coursing through Weeble's chest. Weeble chanced taking his eyes off Whisperman for a split second to glance back at Mole. He was squatting so that his profile didn't appear above the rise that looked down upon the compound.
"We need to go home. Can't do anything while the mice are scurrying. Weeble's got intel for us, I'm sure." Mole said in a slow, bored tone.
Weeble locked eyes with Bootlicker even though Bootlicker wasn't exactly focused on him because he didn't have no optics. A satisfied thrill went through him, at the thought he pulled a Bootlicker when Bootlicker himself hadn't.
"Yeah, let's go home. Got lots to tell ya." Weeble said, his smug grin bleeding through to his voice. He didn't know where home was, but Bootlicker didn't know that either, now did he?
He saw Bootlicker's arm flick and the knife flew to thud between his feet before his mind registered that his brother just threw a knife at him.
Filled with confidence, Weeble bent down and pulled the knife out of the dirt. "Thanks Bootlicker! Can always use another one." He said, putting the knife inside his blouse.
The look on Bootlicker's face was priceless. He still didn't get it that Weeble could see everything with his optics, even the puzzled shock on his face.
"Let's go." Mole said.
Weeble didn't even stop to think that he'd turned his back on Whisperman without a single fear until he'd followed Mole for a good ten steps.
Yeah, fuck you, sicko. You and Bootlicker are better together.
He didn't stop grinning the whole way home. And every time his instincts told him to move, he skipped or hopped ahead without looking back. That fucker wasn't gonna take another notch out of him, let him bleed Bootlicker for a while.
BOOTLICKER
What had gotten into Weeble? That knife should have made him squeal and jump. And the confidence in his voice?
Bootlicker was just messing with him, trying to show off for Hammer, and Weeble was close enough for Bootlicker to feel like he could get the knife to sink right between the little guy's feet, even in the dark. They weren't that far apart so he felt like his practice would pay off. And he executed it perfectly. Besides, real world situations were best to internalize a skill. He nailed it.
But Weeble hadn't even moved. Not a flinch or gasp of surprise. And his ridiculous camouflage. Nothing like Hammer's, who looked like a shrub. Weeble was just covered with forest garbage. He looked like a pile of crap the wind had blown up against some rock during a storm. Still, in the dark like they were, he knew if Weeble went to ground he'd have to step on him to know he was there. He'd have to try it out, to see if he could hide like that.
His foot crunched a dead stick in the path and he immediately felt a sting on his ear.
"You better pay attention, recruit. I lo-o-ove teaching lessons." Hammer grated. "Whatever you got in your head, get rid of it. There's ONE thing you think about now, and that's where you put your feet. The next one will really hurt, and I will enjoy it twice as much."
Two flicks later, and one shallow stab to the hip and they finally reached a hole in the ground covered by a leaf strewn tarp. It didn't escape his notice that every time Hammer stepped forward to give a knife flick to Weeble, his brother somehow took an extra step, a little faster, and Hammer missed. Weeble didn't even look back. It looked like Hammer just picked the wrong moment.
Bootlicker felt like his skills were falling behind, and that didn't feel good at all.
Pay attention. He thought to himself.
ASSMUNCH
He was too tired, beaten, and sore to care when the ape came through the door for the fourth time and grabbed him off his cot.
"Stand up."
Like hell. He was going to get a beating no matter what level of cooperation he gave. He no longer cared. After the first time, the ape hadn't beaten his face and he felt like maybe the swelling had gone down a little. Small mercies.
Through each ordeal, it was thoughts of Kevin, of his dad, Tim, and his mom that kept him going, taking his mind away enough to push the punishment to his body far enough away that he could ignore it. He knew it was possible he was having a psychotic break with reality, but again he couldn't bring himself to care.
The second time, after they'd let him sleep for a bit, he'd done as the ape asked only to get a knee to the groin and a bone shaking fist to the ribs. After that, the ape strung him up to hang from a suspicious hook in the concrete ceiling to continue his beating.
The worst part? The ape didn't talk. Just used him as a punching bag. Then when he'd had enough, or the ape got bored, he would be released and the other guy, the interrogator, would enter and ask him his questions.
"What has Collins tasked you with? I know you have a mission. What is it?" He didn't answer the man. After the second beating he learned that saying anything, even a sarcastic response, just weakened his resistance.
"What were you sent here to learn?" The question was one he'd already answered, and he'd answered honestly. So this time he began making the outside world disappear. Part of it was the need to mentally escape. Did people have psychotic breaks on purpose? He'd always thought it happened subconsciously but he was deliberately seeking it out. Was it an actual psychotic break when you were in control of it?
Reality was whatever you decided it was. The more you believed something mattered, the more real it became. If you viewed something as a barrier that's how it solidified in your mind. A speed bump could become a mental wall. And if you could decide to manifest a barrier, couldn't you also decide the opposite? The power was his to decide.
He felt a soothing rush of calm quiet descend inside him with the realization. His pain was only a state of physical being. He didn't have to tie his mind to his body, they could be separated exactly how he separated himself from reality in the place where there was no him. Wasn't that what he did when he went to that place? He forgot his body existed? And he could decide what to let in, what to ignore, what to perceive and in what amount. It wasn't an all or nothing question. It was a matter of degrees, a spectrum. In the darkness of his mind, he let what his ears heard penetrate the emptiness.
"---- don't tell me, you aren't leaving me many options." The man said.
He spoke of options. Another lie. The man's options weren't options for him. Their goals were not the same.
The clarity he felt at this moment focused his thoughts in a way he'd never thought they could be. With clarity came simplicity. Unrelated concerns were discarded. Pain was one of those things. His current situation was another. Neither affected what he had to do. That was the gift of simplicity. Complicated nuances, grey areas, even factual distinctions could be discarded. Those considerations were intended to cloud the basic nature of the proposition, to obfuscate choice and steer the mind. To argue was to accept that there was an opposing viewpoint but that in itself was a dilution of simplicity. If you were certain and held surety, no other viewpoints could exist. There were few things in life so foundational as who he was, his sense of self. Regardless of the man's questions, the concept of simplicity revealed he wanted Andrew to betray who he was. His answers didn't matter. Facts didn't matter. Intel didn't matter. There was just one purpose to his entire ordeal - pushing him over the threshold of betrayal. Telling the man about the Bravos, how they functioned, their training, their individual skills was a line he wouldn't cross.
The remainder of what the man said was lost in unintelligible sounds that his ears refused entrance. Interaction was no longer useful. The man said the same things he'd said from the beginning without exception. His words provided nothing and did not improve Andrew's situation. He'd already learned the most important lesson: known, experienced pain was seductive. Maybe it was just his own unusual approach to pain, but he found himself far more interested in how different types of pain had different `flavors'. There were spikes that flared then receded. There was a lingering, burning pain. Aching throbs, deep searing pain that was blindingly white in his mind. Crippling pain where you couldn't use your muscles. Pain that sunk inside your bones and spread like an infection. Some stayed, some left, some built and swelled, others gradually weakened into nuisances. And so many more kinds.
Each of them came from a unique place and affected a limited and specific aspect of his mind. It became clear that for every type and level he experienced more possibilities existed that he wasn't subjected to. Nothing during this process instilled fear in him until that realization. The Ape was being careful. No bones were broken. No injuries given that he couldn't recover from. And that made him afraid because he found himself wanting to know and categorize what those kinds of bigger pain were. He felt the need pulling at him. Seductive.
Well, he couldn't feel any of it if he kept himself separated. He would have to rejoin reality. Experiencing his beatings fully felt like a necessary rite of passage. It had become obvious he could endure them so what was he avoiding it for? Prize fighting boxers didn't retreat. Cage fighters had to take some hits to deliver punishment of their own. Hiding in a corner was an acceptance of defeat, a surrender of weakness, a recognition that he couldn't handle the reality of his situation. Turning away and refusing to confront his current impotence stole a critical piece of his manhood - his ability to stand resolute.
The hours of ordeal cycled him through refusal, hatred, determination, acceptance, small windows of rational thought where he could reason out a purpose and the goals of his captors.
No. They had done him a favor. The Place Where There Was No Him was not to be used to avoid reality, to escape and hide. It was a place of calm to center his mind which allowed him to better handle the world outside. It enhanced his mental state. Smothering himself gained him nothing. They couldn't hurt him, not really. The threats were empty. He'd be dead already if that option was on the table. You don't feed a dead guy. You don't let a dead guy sleep. You drive him to the depths of despair and insanity before putting a bullet in the juicy mush of his skull. The road of torture was a one way express lane of ever more monstrous injuries until the mind was as broken as the body. And at that point, death had long been an eventuality. If a prisoner was important enough to systematically dismantle, he was too important to put back together again. He either needed to stay broken, or be disposed of.
None of that was the method they'd used on him. In fact, they should already know he had no information. From that he could conclude this little production had another purpose. And there didn't seem to be any real value for either the man or The Ape.
The piece of him keeping track of the outside world registered his body once again being hung from the hook in the ceiling. Ah. He would have to chew on this puzzle later. For now, he needed to focus on the beautiful pain that came from his body being stretched out so that his prior injuries flared up. God, it felt like that first painful stretch the day after an intense and exhausting workout, when your muscles were weak and burning, tightened up in a near cramp and useless. The feeling of his muscles and flesh tearing, shredding... it was so fucking good, like the scald of a super hot shower. A slightly burning sharpness that expanded and contracted before settling into a dull warmth. A good flavor. Maybe he could do something to make the Ape angry. Yes. He almost smiled from the expectation of how much fun this was going to be. He restrained himself only because he wanted to use that smile to its greatest effect at the right moment in the future.
There was another aspect to experiencing pain which made it deep or shallow. Foreknowledge. If you saw it coming, the anticipation reinforced the pain. Expectation added the imagined future pain to the actual present pain so you experienced almost twice the pain. For others, that was something undesirable. Andrew found himself wanting it.
The booted kick to his shin wasn't too forceful, but he lost all control of the muscles and nerves in his leg while the electrified impulses stormed like a chaotic stampede of bison. The way the pain bled away in tingling heat was regrettable but it needed to go away so he could feel the next strike.
The Ape did know his business so Andrew knew he had a little time. The next strike would be somewhere else. That was part of the game as well - random locations, varying the force of the strike, alternating the timing.
"Ooooof!" He gasped as the Ape jabbed his clustered fingertips into the soft and tender meat of his armpit like a snake attacking, then grabbed his lat muscle before that stabbing white electricity dissipated to dig his fingertips in and twist the lat. "Unnnngggghhhhh".
He laughed through the pain when he remembered something his dad used to say when they got hurt as kids - "Let me poke your other eye and you'll forget all about how much the first one hurts." Turns out dad was right. One pain did extinguish another, at least initially. He'd have to remember that.
He lifted his leg to kick out at the Ape. He hadn't made contact in any of his attempts yet, but it was a move that always resulted in the Ape getting a little more creative.
"Oh! Still got some fight in ya." He observed as he moved up close and grabbed Andrew around his neck with his left hand and squeezed his throat. Andrew felt his right hand loosening his belt before being jammed down the front of his trousers. He had to be going for the balls.
"I didn't realize this was a date." Andrew managed to gasp out just before he felt the mans hand pass his balls to hook around underneath and Andrew croaked out a struggled inhalation past the squeezed hand on his neck as the Ape jammed two thick fingers all the way inside his ass.
"Well if it wasn't before, it sure is now, right sweetheart?" The Ape said just an inch from his face, staring into his eyes with an intense stare.
If he hadn't experienced Kevin's fat dick tearing into him just last week right after his boyfriend had choked him out cold, the Ape might have succeeded in his expected surprise. As it was, Andrew just flashed back as a warm flush of pure pleasure converted all the pain into something that only heightened his need to be brutalized. He let his eyes roll back as his vision narrowed with the loss of oxygen as he tried to focus on the Ape's fat fingers jabbing violently up inside him. "Between you and me, recruit" the Ape whispered into his face. "I'm going to get the most out of it when we go to level 2. Daddy's dick is hungry for some grunt pussy."
He couldn't have been out long, getting choked out is usually just a temporary unconsciousness primarily as a result of loss of blood flow to the brain. Once the blood is allowed to travel again, your brain wakes up pretty soon after. He had plenty of experience with it and the fuzzy first few seconds of coming to were always a special treat. Your brain woke up before your body did, the world expanded, and it took a couple seconds for your brain to remember losing consciousness. Those seconds were pure heaven.
He realized his trousers and briefs were pulled down to his ankles so he hung there exposed. The Ape stood before him in a similar state of undress.
"Nice." The Ape said, letting his eyes roam over Andrew's nude body. "I do like it more when they're lean. You know why?" His eyes darted up to Andrew's as he asked the question.
"So you don't have to think about how fat your momma is?" Andrew coughed out.
"Shhhhh"
The Ape moved up to him and stroked a finger down his sore ribcage, causing the muscles to contract painfully. He sighed, or he meant to. It came out sounding more like a gurgled groan. As his hand got lower, the Ape traced around over his hip to continue down across his ass and then grabbed it in a rough clawing grip to pull his tortured body up against his own.
They were almost equal in height, and the feeling of the Ape's bare skin against his felt disgusting.
He heard the door opening but couldn't see past the Ape's face, his eyes staring straight into his own.
"Already at Level 2?" Andrew recognized the Interrogator's voice.
Without breaking his stare, the Ape answered. "He doesn't seem to care about the pain. So yeah. Level 2." In a fictional scenario, the Ape's breath would have smelled like rotted meat, or something vile, but it didn't. Just slightly medicinal. Mouthwash? He also didn't miss that the Ape had said more words in the last ten minutes than he had for all the hours of beatings.
"You sure we can't bleed him?" The Ape asked.
"Maybe later, but I think he'll break before that. Where's your patience? Where's your pride in craftsmanship? You know slow and low pays off." The Interrogator replied.
The Ape grinned while he looked at him, almost lovingly. His hand handn't released Andrew's ass, and in fact had slowly crawled toward his ass crack.
If he thought a little rape was going to break Andrew, he was in for a rude surprise. No, Andrew wouldn't enjoy it, nor would he welcome it. He loved the fact that Kevin was the only one who'd done that to him. It felt special, and important that Kevin's dick was the only dick he'd had, because for him, it wasn't about dick, it wasn't about getting fucked. It was about submitting himself to a man he loved, and admired. It was how Kevin TOOK it, just slightly more than how Andrew was willing to let him. After all, you could tell someone to kick your ass, but it didn't mean they could actually do the job. Kevin could do the job, and he had the equipment necessary to make it meaningful.
He and Kevin had something unique that allowed that surrender to intimacy, completely due to Kevin's immense patience in their friendship. Carol had taught Andrew that surrendering to intimacy wasn't a character flaw, wasn't a statement on your manhood. She showed him that he was stronger BECAUSE he allowed it. And Kevin was brutal because Andrew wanted him to be, not because that was his nature. Kevin's nature was gentle, intellectual, kind and generous. Andrew knew he played the tough guy for him, for them, that Andrew needed him to be a man in everything.
In high school, maybe Kevin could have gone either way. He wasn't a soft or weak guy anyway. Andrew recognized how Kevin's general demeanor grew and changed as they really grew closer. In general, in public, Kevin projected strength through silence. He stood tall. Well, tall for a short guy, which he was in high school. He had a growth spurt in those two years Andrew hadn't seen him, and it was good to see his former thickness get redistributed into a physical form that looked like power. Working out helped. Joining a sport like track helped. And Andrew could tell he'd also been taking martial arts of some kind, but Kevin had been tight lipped about it. The round-house kick that clocked Andrew in the jaw wasn't something an amateur could execute as flawlessly as Kevin had in the hotel room. He could keep his secrets, the way Kevin moved told its own story.
Andrew was proud of him. When Kevin came to his Airborne graduation he could see the difference. The set of his now broad and rounded shoulders. The way his arms didn't ever relax into a straight line when they were hanging, but instead were slightly bent at the elbow. It was an indication of physical dedication, training the body. Beyond that, the way he stepped with the foot movements, the flex of the knees. His clockwork eyes didn't twitch and instead seemed to recognize, identify, categorize, dismiss everything. When they were young, Kevin saw everything but it was the hyper awareness of a prey animal. Now, his consideration was more like a predator. No fear. Confidence. Almost dangerous. Well... to civilians he WAS dangerous. Weeble could absolutely take him down. Hell, Wanker even stood a chance. Dangerous was relative.
The thick finger pushing up against his hole forced him to return to reality. Thinking about Kevin was something that was guaranteed to take him out of the world outside. He could think about that man for hours and not know anything that was happening outside.
But he knew how to play this. It wasn't difficult to figure out. The main thing about rape was that it was a demonstration of power, of control. And if there was one thing he learned from Sarge, it was to change the battlefield.
"It'll be the best grunt pussy you ever had. Go ahead and find out. Maybe we'll both enjoy it." He tried to inflect a bored, almost eager tone. The Ape's dick was nothing special, nowhere near Footlong's, nor Zeus', or Kevin's, in order of descending length. And Zeus' was even thicker than Kevin's even though Kevin's was a fucking pipe. So yeah, the Ape wasn't going to make the impression he thought he would. Andrew had seen some truly impressive cock, in full swollen, throbbing glory. The Ape might make his wife scream out in pleasure, which was still a very big `might', but Andrew doubted he would even register it beyond the initial penetration.
The Ape's eyes finally left his and turned to give the Interrogator a look. Without looking back, he said "Oh. You used that grunt pussy before? Huh? Sounds like this might not be the first round in the chamber."
Andrew almost laughed. Fishing. "I could be cherry. Might not be. Only way to know is to fuck that dick in. Right? I mean, I'm just hanging here. I can't stop you. Maybe your friend with all the questions wants sloppy seconds. I can totally make you cum. That's a promise."
Andrew moved his head slightly to look past the Ape's. He hid the surprise when he saw Lamont standing there. So, the Charlies were here too. And why was Lamont not strapped up like he was, hanging from a hook in the ceiling with his pants around his ankles? Obviously the leaders were given the special treatment.
The Ape's face turned back to his. "Oh, I'm gonna take you for a ride, handsome. Don't you worry." And he darted in and gave Andrew a quick peck.
Information. It was everywhere. The Ape wasn't actually into this. Andrew squashed the feeling of immediate relief. That kiss could have been far more full, more involved. Instead, it was the absolute minimum, as if kissing another guy was the job, not the goal. Again, Kevin to the rescue. Andrew knew what a real kiss was, knew the heat, the desire, the hunger of a real kiss. Even one without the infectious madness of a tongue invading beyond the perimeter of your lips. This guy, he saw it as a tool, a perfunctory act. He chuckled.
"What's so funny?" The Ape growled.
Andrew considered his responses. "You can do better than that. Just pretend I'm your mom. You can relax. Let's just get it over with. Go ahead and get your nut."
A flare of anger flashed through the Ape's eyes. More information. This was not going the way he wanted. He pulled his hand away from
Andrew's ass.
The absence of the Ape's finger on his asshole allowed him to relax. Either it would happen, or it wouldn't. But the psychological game was now in unfamiliar territory.
The Ape stepped away, but not before Andrew saw his dick had gone soft. Truthfully, the Ape wasn't a bad looking guy. On the beefy side, like Chunk, thick legs, soft abdomen, solid pecs, big arms and a sturdy neck with flared traps angled down to wide shoulders. But it was his forearms and hands that made him an ape. Just as big around as his upper arms, his forearms were heavily muscled and furred, and that continued into heavy wrists and giant paws that were tufted with hair. Hell, his middle fingers looked equal to most average guys' dicks. If Andrew made the `OK' sign with his thumb and forefinger, that would be the diameter of the Ape's middle finger.
As if summoned to purpose, the Ape walked around behind him and grabbed his hips, allowing him to look at the Interrogator and Lamont. He no longer cared about what the Ape intended. The Interrogator was calling the shots.
"Harris, just tell them what they want to know." Lamont entreated. He look concerned.
Andrew gave him a look. "How would I know anything, Lamont? And why are you here?" He felt the Ape move up behind him, nestling his nude body up against his.
Lamont shook his head in disappointment. "Just want to talk some sense into you, is all. Don't let them do this."
Andrew laughed as he felt the Ape's once again hard dick slide up between his legs. "Let them? Are we in in the same room? Seeing the same things? Just leave, Lamont. You don't need to watch this."
Lamont glanced over to the Interrogator. Then he looked back, and his eyes looked sad. "I'm supposed to watch this. Training." He said the last word like it was the full explanation. Which it was.
"Yeah. Okay." Was all Andrew could manage. Lamont watching him get fucked in the ass was its own special torture, and the Interrogator likely knew it. Strangers held their own shame. A contemporary...that was shared shame. Andrew almost broke.
But this was for his brothers. It was so he could look them in the eye and say he hadn't sold them out. It was so that even after everything they took from him, he could walk with confidence that he knew in his heart he wasn't a traitor. That he could hold their trust. That he deserved their respect, his honor, their honor of him. And they deserved his greatest effort, every single one of them. They had given him their trust. It didn't matter that almost everything he knew about them could be found in a military file on someone's administrative desk and the Ape and the Interrogator could probably make a phone call to one of their active duty buddies to have the intel in less than 24 hours. What mattered was that HE wasn't the one who gave it to them. His men were HIS men. And fuck anyone who thought they could break that bond of brotherhood. He would die before betraying them. They deserved no less.
"You won't break him." He heard Lamont say. "He'll die for them." Yeah, Lamont knew the score.
A scoffing chuff answered Lamont's certainty. "He THINKS he would die for them. But that hasn't been tested, has it?" The Interrogator's voice said.
When had he decided to cut off his sight and go inside? Strange. Sometime during his thoughts of love for his brothers. He didn't even know what the Ape was doing back there. It didn't matter.
"Don't test it. He won't break. I don't think even the worst you can do would work. He'll endure anything. I've seen it." Lamont answered.
"Hmmm, Private. Are you actually squeamish? Can't take a little psychological and physical pressure?" The Interrogator said with humor. "This isn't even past the `let's be friends' part of an interrogation. If you can't stomach it, you can go."
The emotionless dry tone of the Interrogator's last words covered the room with a blanket of eery darkness.
"Is he your friend?" The Interrogator asked. "You don't want to watch him suffer?"
"No, that's not it." Lamont answered quickly.
Andrew chuckled again. "Lamont, you're over your head." He choked out. "This is going to happen. You're here to learn. So learn. I'm learning a whole shit ton."
Lamont remained silent. As did everyone else. The Ape was still behind him, but damned if he would expand his awareness to feel what he was doing.
"Hey. C'mon." Lamont said weakly.
"Lamont." Andrew said in a serious voice. "Go." And it was when he said the word that he let himself go to drift.
"Fuck you assholes!" Lamont shouted. Andrew didn't know what he was doing, but heard a scuffle. One of the downsides to shutting off your senses, but that was fine. Half a minute of random sounds and then the room was silent. He didn't care. There was nothing to care about.
"Hey... get your feet, soldier." A rough voice said in his ear minutes later. Was it minutes? An hour? It was time passing. Time passed. It was emptiness and silence, then the voice.
Feet? He had no feet. The voice sounded nice, though. Concerned. Warm. Well, maybe not warm, but...friendly? Maybe friendly.
"Okay, let's just get you in your bunk. Sleep if you want."
Sleep? Bunk? Was he here? Who the fuck cares? He thought. And there was Kevin, looking really good in his tight cowboy shirt and Wrangler jeans, with that smile that was almost a smirk, maybe a grin, but his grey eyes said it was a challenge. Kevin. Yeah, the outside world could go fuck itself. Kevin was inside.
"Well...." Offden said.
"Yeah... well fucking what?" Harris snarled. "These were supposed to be kids. BABIES. FUCKING SNOT NOSED BABIES!"
"HEY!" Benson shouted. "Give it a rest. Why the fuck is everyone so angry?"
The group was gathered down in the bunker, combining intel on the two groups of training recruits, every one a Private in the U.S. Army.
"Because HE -" and Harris jabbed a finger at the Big Man, "said this was easy money, a babysitting job."
"You got a problem with working and earning your pay, Harris?" Nancy said in a friendly voice.
"That's not the point and you know it, Nancy!" Harris shouted back.
"Oh? You would rather be crawling in the African desert with sand wiggling it's way up inside your asshole hunting Somalis? That more your idea of earning good money?" Nancy replied.
"You know what Nancy? I love you too much, and your cooking to fight with you. What do YOU think about these kids?" Harris argued back.
Nancy shrugged. "For their age, and experience? They're good. Whoever trained them, they didn't slack. I say we pull them in. Give them everything. Hell, half of them will be working for us in two years, you know that. Let's invest." Nancy looked over to the Big Man, Ulster McGregor. He was the one who had to make the decision.
Ulster had his brows furrowed, deep in thought. "Harris. Do you know the kid we've got in Interrogation?"
"Him? Yeah, that's my nephew Tom." Harris answered. "My brother David's son. David was Army down to his bones, raised his boys right.