Date: Tue, 12 Aug 2014 11:31:51 +0200
From: Dampies Dampis <dampies1960@gmail.com>
Subject: SHEEP IN WOLF'S CLOTHING 4

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

Not today...

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

Fortunately no more limbs fell off in the process.

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

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

A swarm of neatly dressed men in officer's uniforms made their way silently
through the room. It was obvious that they were on a mission. Each wore a
glove on one hand, and they were sticking their fingers and noses into
places we never even thought of. What started as a relatively quiet, yet
threateningly sinister experience, quickly took on the appearance of a
rampage, as they found dust in the most unlikely of places. Voices were
raised, trommels were upended, bunks were tossed over, and one corporal
even took his dick out and pissed all over the floor and on one troop's bed
and bedding.

Lt. Adolphus Hitler was the spokesman.

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

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

The whole episode lightened the general mood, and laboriously we started
from scratch. The purpose of the army was to create a sense of
meaninglessness, and to try and demoralize us, but we had already lost so
much that, if nothing else, we had our unbroken spirits.

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

An interesting situation developed later that same evening: when I was just
sliding between the sheets of my bunk, Ben, a huge guy hailing from a farm
in the Free State, and my bunk mate (he slept on top because he was
missing only one foot –  the left one) came and sat on the side of my bed.
He patted my ass, which was under the blankets already and left his hand
resting on my butt. He leaned forward until his mouth was inches away from
mine. His voice was kind and protective.

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

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

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

Then Ben did a shocking thing. He moved even closer towards me and kissed
me softly on my lips. He just rested his mouth there, and as I caught my
breath, opening my mouth to do so, I felt the tip of his tongue playfully
entering my lips. We kissed gently and non-sexually for a moment, while my
heart almost jumped through my throat and out of my mouth to join his warm,
spitty tongue. He pulled away at last, whispering in my left ear, his
breath warming me and tickling the soft hairs in the auricle.

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

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

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

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

A devilish smile crossed his handsome Afrikaans face. He was blond, with
extremely curly, coarse hair, (or what actually remained after the
regulation army cut) bushy blond eyebrows and a deep golden tan. His
shoulders were even wider than Lt. Hitler's, and he did not wear a shirt,
about to go to bed. His biceps looked like he wrestled cows to the ground,
but not in the gym-fed way guys have nowadays. His muscles were
work-cultivated. He had big juicy looking pink nipples, and some soft
looking blond hair between his naturally muscular pecs. His neck was like a
tree trunk that sprouted out of the alabaster of his shoulders, and at this
time of the night, his blonde beard provided some scruff that stippled his
handsome, honest cheeks. His lips were pink and moist, smiling.

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

He nodded.

"Now don't rape a defenseless Afrikaans farm boy, you naughty gay pervert,"
he admonished, and I could detect a smile in his voice as I opened the
blankets for him to slip underneath next to me. I was reclining on my right
side, facing him, also only in my boxers. He leaned his left knee (of the
no-foot) on the bed, and nimbly maneuvered himself until he was snuggling
close to me on his left side, facing in my direction. I pulled the blankets
over him, while he put his right arm around me and pulled me closer so I
had my head on his left shoulder and his left arm was curled around my
back,  enveloping me tight in his firm embrace.

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

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

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

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

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

"Ben, will you come and lie with me when you're done comforting the gay
boy? PLEASE?" There was good natured laughter dotted around the room, and
some sleepy voices added, "Shut the fuck up... It's midnight, for fuck's
sake!" A few assenting voices joined until all became quiet.

I fell asleep in Ben's arms, feeling safer than had for a very long time...
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