FIELD TESTS OF TEXTRAPHEDERINE-12
EPISODE TWO
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM
[Excerpt from the test documentation: No test of a new drug would be complete with an independent verification of the drug, both of its benefits and its side-effects. Given this particular side-effect, one which is physically harmless if socially unacceptable, it was felt that the best interests of the company would be to obtain the independent verification prior to the dissemination of rumors from the first field test site. For this reason, while the first field test was in the central area of the United States, we selected a base as far from the first as possible.]
Sergeant Wilson peered at the yellow liquid in the cups suspiciously. "You sure about this stuff, Captain?" he asked the officer at the table.
"Heard some good things about it." Captain Harlow was effervescent about this weird liquid. "Just one drink and you'll all become supersoldiers!"
"You mean we can fly through the air and shit?" Sergeant Wilson smiled at him. It wasn't a nice smile.
"Maybe." Captain Harlow said. "All I know is that the soldiers at the first base that tried this out are all clamoring for more of it."
"So give it to them." Sergeant Wilson suggested.
"It's still a test." Captain Harlow said. "They'll get it later. Everyone will get it later."
"And we'll be jumping tall buildings with a single bound."
"You'll be performing at well above your normal limits, both physically and mentally." Captain Harlow promised.
"Well...all right." Sergeant Wilson took his cup and gestured to his men to do the same. It tasted funny...kind of like melted pudding. "Not such bad tasting shit." He said, to Captain Harlow but really to his men. They were his responsibility, after all.
Still, he had to admit that the yellow crap did seem to put an extra spring in his step. He and his men were running a combat exercise, and damn if they didn't cut a hell of a lot of time off the entire twenty-mile trek that was the central part of it. And when they hit their purported "enemy units," their score was higher than it had ever been. Sergeant Wilson himself fired only four shots, and each one got that silly pasteboard cutout right between its eyes.
Barstow was really goofing off during the run, he was aiming for the cutouts' crotches. A splotch of red paint right at the spot above the V-shape of the legs. The others were laughing, calling it "Barstow's Peenie Count" and if that joking had cut into their performance one whittle, Wilson would have read him the riot act. But hell, they were all in better than top form, they were fucking wiping up the place!
Those mental tests they ran were just as amazing. Wilson had no idea that he could recite, backwards, a 20-digit number reeled off to him, and do it so damned quickly, too! The interviewer muttered about seven numbers being the typical.
Maybe those science johnnies knew what they were doing with that piss-colored liquid after all!
He only had one problem as the day wore on. He was getting hornier than hell! Man, he hoped their performance would rate them all some leave time.
No such shitting luck! These scientists wanted to check their blood levels in the morning, as well. Far from getting leave, they were all restricted to barracks after dinner!
Shit, the last thing he wanted to do right now was wank himself off! You weren't supposed to be stuck on base (barring some sort of military emergency, that is) after basic training, you were supposed to be able to come and go, within reason, and he had one hell of a reason sticking out the front of his drawers, right now!
Hell, he couldn't sleep with this thing twitching! Maybe he ought to yank the pud and get it over with.
Not just now. He wanted more than anything to bury it inside something warm and wet and tight and pulsing and...God damn it!
He had to do something, shit! Do something!
Well, being a sergeant had this prerogative, anyway, when he was miserable, he got to go make someone else even more miserable!
Go check on the men, yeah, that was what he needed to do. Somebody would be awake, maybe a light on under the covers, something he could call them on. And if they weren't, he could call them out for nothing at all!
Into the darkened barracks he crept. Quietly, that was the ticket, slip in and look around and....
Ah, hell! Get any ten guys together and one or the other would prove out to be a homo, every damn time! Were they every-fucking-where or what?
One of the men was lying on his bunk, his hard cock being serviced by another man. Wilson could only see his back and between the lights and the clean-shaven heads of the men, not a hell of a lot let him know which one it was just now.
A mischievous smile stole over his face as he realized the two men were so intent on their furtive lovemaking that they didn't see him. He got down right next to the man sucking his buddy's cock, and said, "You getting enough of that?"
As he'd hoped, the man sputtered, choked on that long man-log in his gullet, and spit it out, coughing. "Sarge! Sarge, I...uh-uh-uh-uh-uh!" he coughed. "I was just, just....uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh!"
"Damn, boy, didn't your momma teach you not to swallow nothing you can't chew?" Wilson chided him. He still couldn't make out the face, and that cough defeated voice identification.
The man coughed a bit more and then the voice was recognizable. "Sir, sir, I'm sorry!"
"Well, Barstow, I was wondering why you was aiming at those target's willies like you were." Wilson said. "Looks like you were hoping one of them would drop his trou and let you swing on it."
"Sir, I...I can explain?"
"So go ahead." Wilson said.
"One of the men interviewing us, after the exercise." Barstow said. "He warned me, friendly like, that a side-effect of that drug was that you'd get horny as hell. And man, he wasn't kidding."
"So you get horny and you start sucking on Hernandez's dick?" For it was Hernandez lying on the bed, fumbling the sheet up over a still-hard Latin dong.
"Not exactly, sir." Barstow said. "Hernandez and I...we....well, we agreed to trade off."
"Trade off?"
"I do him and then he'd do me."
Wilson cocked an eye at Hernandez, who smiled cagily. "I'd say you were going to find yourself with a hard one in your hand and nothing to put it in."
Barstow looked at Hernandez and realized that Wilson was telling him the truth. "You mean that...God, Hernandez, I knew you were a prick, but I didn't think you were that bad!"
"Aw, man, get back to sucking my pud." Hernandez groaned. "I'll do you afterwards, honest, I will."
"How about you do each other at the same time?" Wilson opined. "Nothing stops you from doing that, does it?"
"Yeah, how about it?" Barstow put in.
"Aw, fuck this shit!" Hernandez said, making his real intent clear, he was not going to suck anybody's dick. "Shit, what am I going to do with this pussy-mauler of mine, then? God, you got it all hard and wet and humming, Barstow, you got to finish me off!"
"Fuck you!" Barstow said.
"Maybe you ought to?" Wilson said. The logic of this conversation was eluding him, it was only after that he wondered at how easily he was accepting this, that the men all around him were busily crawling into each other's bunks, men were sucking, men were humping, men were jerking each other, all over this barracks. Hell, no wonder they wouldn't let them outside, if they had, this whole base would have been covered with pairs of men fucking away. He wondered just how widespread this particular test had been, there had been a hell of a lot of those tiny little paper cups of yellow liquid set out.
"Shit, man, I got to get off, I got to get off!"
"Ah, hell, Hernandez, come on over here." moaned Clausewitz in the bunk across the way. Wilson looked to see Clausewitz holding a hard Nordic dong and the other hand was pumping a finger in and out of his butthole. "I got to get off, too, and my ass is just begging for a hard dick inside of it."
"All right!" Hernandez jumped to action so fast, that Wilson only realized afterward that he had missed out on a prime chance to bury his own Little Wilson into a hungry wet hole. Shit!
"Aw, man!" Barstow was crawling onto his bed, looking around. "Man, everyone's done taken. What the fuck am I going to do?" he lay back and his hard, white prick was like a sword stuck into the ground, the top of it vibrating hard, no, twitching, beckoning.
Wilson was beyond caring. Hell, this was going on all over the place right now, anyway. They would be just two men in a group of men having sex. Anonymity in a crowd, so to speak.
He answered Barstow by reaching up and grabbing hold of Barstow's pud. Barstow gasped in surprise, then groaned as Wilson milked down that angry dong.
"Don't you know you can come to me with any of your problems?" Wilson reminded him.
"Awww, awww, aw hell, yeah!" Barstow groaned. Barstow's hand came up and cupped Wilson's groin. "Unit's got to stick together when times get tough, right, sir?"
"Damned straight." Wilson agreed as Barstow pulled Wilson's prick out through the slit in his boxers. "Got to keep a high esprit de corps here, after all."
"That deal, what you said." panted Barstow. "You know, about doing each other at the same time?"
"Yeah." Wilson said and he crawled up onto the bed. As he got straddle of Barstow's head and that white prick was within his mouth's reach, he felt his own dong swallowed down by Barstow's avid throat.
Ah, shit, the white boy was a good cocksucker! Wilson moaned and the hunger inside of him jibbered happily and in that delirium, he lunged onto Barstow's prick, sucking it down hard!
God, the incredible power of it, the way that having this white stud's dong in his throat felt so fucking right! Shit, he'd always been a cocksucker, he just never realized it until now! He wanted more of this from now on, shit, this was all-fucking-right, fuck, yeah!
His mouth worked furiously on Barstow's cock, and Barstow did the same for him. He puzzled Wilson by pausing long enough to peel Wilson's boxer shorts down, but figured that the loose cloth was getting in the white stud's way, keeping him from really sucking that long, black prong the way he wanted. The white boy sure picked up the pace when those boxers lay on the floor instead of being wrapped around Wilson's midsection!
And then Wilson gasped! Shit, Barstow was sticking a wet finger up Wilson's butt! Shit, this private had designs on his sergeant's ass! Damn it, if there was going to be any ass-fucking around here...if there was going to be any....fuck, that felt good!...if there was going to be any asses fucked here, it was going to....ah, fuck, yeah, that was damned good, damned good!...if there was...ah, hell! That was too damned good!
Panting, Wilson let go just long enough to say, "Time for you to quit diddling that finger of yours and get this wet prick of yours into it."
"Yes, sir!" Barstow groaned. "Yes, sir, yes, ah!"
Wilson went onto his back, his head bumping the rear railing of the bunk bed and his long, muscled black legs were lifted up and pressed with the knees against his chest, and that arrogant white boy was now shoving a hard pud up against Wilson's virginal asshole. But hell, if he could make it feel good, Wilson wasn't going to argue with him!
That white boy's cock felt damned good going inside of his ass. Shit, his butt was milking at that hot dong as it slid into him, he could feel his asshole wrinkling and puckering up eagerly as the thick shaft kissed it on its way in, and he gripped and pulled it into him.
Wilson opened his eyes and looked up into Barstow's, expecting to see a shit-eating grin at getting his cock into his sergeant's ass. But there was nothing there but hunger and a...was that tenderness?
"Ah, yeah, come on, move that pretty white ass of yours, Barstow." Wilson moaned. "Get my sergeant butt fucked but good, now, move it, come on, move it, hooh-hooh-hooh!"
Barstow did grin then, but it was the kindly grin of a lover in the thrall of delight. "You want to count it off while I do it?" he offered.
"Just get to moving." Wilson said.
"Yes, sir." Barstow began to fuck his sergeant's black butt, and the room was filled with the moist, wet, dripping sounds of men in lust's embrace, God, every orifice in this room sounded like it had a hard soldier dick in it right now, pumping in and out with wet spit or ass-mucous clinging to it and making it squelch noisily.
The springs of the beds added to the cacophony, and in that universe of sexual sound, Wilson wasn't shy about adding his own. "Ah, fuck, come on, fuck me, man, harder, come on, fuck me harder, yeah, ah, yeah!"
Barstow didn't need the urging, he was a muscle-driven frenzy of male lust now, his prod was ramming in and out of Wilson's ass, the friction screaming itself into Wilson's body, sparking all through him with electrical joy, Wilson held onto Barstow's back with his hands, and felt the male strength there rippling as Barstow humped him, working him, cramming him full of soldier's cock and then pulling it out to drive it in again!
The chaotic noise about them began to get punctuated with a new sound, the sounds of men coming, Hernandez was now orgasming inside of Clausewitz in a flurry of Spanish syllables, on another bunk, Crane was moaning as he jetted inside of Thompson's mouth, and Jefferson was urging Michaels to shoot it all over him, give me that white spunk, white boy!
"Yeah, give that spunk to me, white boy!" he murmured to Barstow and he could because Barstow was now resting his chin on Wilson's shoulder. "Shoot it deep inside me, boy, deep inside so I can feel it."
"Oh, yes, sir!" Barstow sobbed. "Oh, God, sir, I'm so close now, I got to come now, sir, I got to come, may I please come now, sir, please?"
"Damn it, boy, shoot it I said!" Wilson said. "Come on, shoot it hard, boy!"
"Ah-ah-ah-AGHHUHHHGUHHH!" Barstow groaned right into Wilson's left ear, the otherwise low sound a roar in Wilson's brain, ringing through him, and he felt Barstow's jism as hot salty wetness inside of him, not feeling like it was shot into him, but like it was blossoming there of itself, and the cock that was pumping in and around it was just incidental.
Ah, shit, he had a man's jizz in his ass! Ah, God, he was a fucking come-hole now! A white man's come-hole! Shit, he was fucked now, shit, yeah, yeah, shit, "UH-UH-UH-GNNN-HNNN-GUHHHNNNKKHHGGHHH!" Wilson crooned through gritted teeth as he sprayed his own seed all over both of them while Barstow fell limp and exhausted on top of him, and that hard prick was still deep inside of him, pulsing, like it wanted to come and keep right on coming.
Wilson dug his fingernails into his quiescent lover as he ejaculated, and Barstow hissed in pain, but didn't try to stop him, just moaned as Wilson moaned, and as Wilson's climax released him, Barstow also quieted once again.
"Ah, fuck, that was good." Barstow moaned. "Damned good! Sir, they may drum me out of the service, but I don't regret this one damned bit."
"Me, either, Barstow." Wilson said. "My only regret is I didn't get to plug you one up the butt."
Barstow's cock twitched inside of Wilson's ass. "Uh, huh, sir, I don't know about you, but I ain't done yet."
"Not done?" Wilson found to his own surprise that he wasn't wiped out, either. Oh, tired, some, from coming, but other than that...hell, he was good to go again, too! "Well, then, let me just collect on that little butt of yours."
They rolled over on the bed, nearly falling off, and that was just fine, they laughed about it. Wilson's cock slid comfortably into Barstow's ass and Barstow's arms held Wilson like you only hold someone important to you.
Slow and easy, Wilson began to fuck Barstow's butt. Soon enough, he'd speed up some more.
And on it went, in that barrack and every other one on the base, throughout the rest of that night, the cool night alive with the gasps of men in sexual bliss the way that other nights bloomed to the sounds of crickets or owls. And while those worthies stop their serenade after a space, the sounds of this night went on until the gray dawn rose its lip up over the eastern sky and peered at them with the benevolent kindliness of a favorite uncle.
THE END
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