Date: Sat, 18 May 2002 11:12:46 -0700 From: Nick Stark Subject: Foxhole Part I "FOXHOLE" by Nick D. Stark Part I NICK'S STORY: The foxhole was only about four feet deep, but it was enough to hide the two men from search efforts by the enemy watch towers. Only a foot patrol who happened to stumble upon it would find Nick Stark and Shawn Evans, US Marines, hiding in the shallow depression. Nick and Shawn were not just fellow Marines, they were brothers as well. Nick was four years older, and Shawn had followed his big brother into the Corps. Nick, ever watchful and protective of Shawn, had concerns about taking Shawn along on such a dangerous mission. The two men traveled at night, and just prior to dawn would dig a foxhole to sleep intermittently during the day, ever on the alert for wandering patrols that might discover them. Their mission was to reconnoiter and if possible infiltrate a rebel camp deep in the jungles of Central America. They had spy cameras and enough ammunition and weapons to protect themselves, but not to wage an all out attack. Nick was a veteran of such sneak in and survey missions, and he was training Shawn in the finer points of moving stealthily through enemy territory. Nick lay awake, with Shawn's exhausted body held loosely in his strong embrace. It was late afternoon, they had a couple hours before it was time to move again. Nick looked down fondly on the recumbent figure of his adored little brother. He loved watching Shawn sleep, the slow rise and fall of his chest, Shawn's head buried safely in the crook of Nick's big bare arm. Both Marines wore camouflage pants, boots, and olive drab rib knit tank tops, tight against their hard torsos. It was too hot for anything else. Shawn's exposed flesh was tan and smooth, where dark hair swirled out of the neck and side openings of Nick's tank, solid over his pecs and up to his neck. It brought back memories of childhood to Nick, who as a teenager had nightly crept into Shawn's room to join his little brother in bed. Nick would pull Shawn to him, position him how he wanted, typically with Shawn's back to his chest and Nick's big arms encircling his younger brother. When Nick had sprouted chest hair on his hard pecs, Shawn loved pushing himself back against his brother's body. "Pull me tighter, Nick," he had said, sighing contentedly as he fell back asleep. Nick had responded by placing his big hand on Shawn's firm belly, spreading his fingers out, and pulling Shawn to him. As if in response to the memory, Nick in the foxhole reached down and gently but firmly placed his hand on Shawn's rock hard gut. Not an ounce of fat there, Nick thought proudly, and started rubbing in a soft, circular motion. Shawn stirred slightly in his sleep, nestling back into Nick. Shawn looked so innocent asleep; and yet the bulging muscles of Shawn's body painted a different picture, one of a built fighting machine. Nick was so proud of possessive of Shawn's body. Nick had spent long hours coaching Shawn in the gym, and Shawn had responded like a star pupil, glowing and growing under the attentions of his hunk big brother. Nick was looking down at Shawn, remembering fondly last night's passionate lovemaking. Nick had performed oral sex on Shawn, swallowing his dick down to the base, and also swallowing Shawn's hot load as Shawn had gripped Nick's marine buzz tightly in his hands. In return, Shawn had willingly laid face down and dropped his camouflage pants and skivvies so that Nick could shove his huge throbbing cock up Shawn's tight ass. I hadn't taken more than a dozen thrusts before Nick dumped his pent up load into Shawn. Both brothers had to be careful not to call out or make any noise, because they knew the danger of enemy patrols was always present. As a smile came to Nick's face, remembering the hot session, he heard a footstep in the undergrowth nearby. He instantly tensed up and covered Shawn's mouth with his hand. Shawn was instantly awake, his wide open eyes searching Nick's troubled expression. Shawn knew enough to remain silent, so Nick released him and he sat up. Presently the sound of machetes hacking through the dense jungle came to their ears. "Shit," said Nick, "it's a full blown patrol. They must know someone is trying to get into the base." Shawn nodded in agreement. "Here's what we do," said Nick confidently. "I'm gonna head out the way we came, as if I've heard them and am retreating. After I get out, I'll cover the foxhole with some foliage, with you still in it. You wait until nightfall, then move in and take the snaps of the rebel base first thing at dawn tomorrow. After that, radio me and I'll let you know my position. We can hook up and get back to base the same way we came in, moving under cover of night. I'll be in touch with you, if I can. You know what to do. Use your training." Shawn nodded in agreement. He had long since given up trying to argue with Nick, Nick knew best plus he was quoting exactly what the training manual said to do in such situations. Plus he knew that Nick was giving him the opportunity of being the hero, he would be the one to get the photos of the rebel base, while Nick created a diversion, letting the enemy patrol follow him in the opposite direction. Nick got up into a crouching position and stuck his head over the edge of the hole. "They're pretty close. I'm going for it." Nick roughly grabbed the front of Shawn's shirt, hauled Shawn's face up as he bent his own down, and gave Shawn a quick, bristly kiss on the lips, Nick's three day growth of beard roughly scratching Shawn's face. Shawn didn't even notice, he was fighting back anxiety and even tears as his big brother jumped out of the foxhole without looking back. Soon piles of loosely tossed leaves and branches covered the foxhole. Shawn heard Nick's big footsteps as they tromped off quickly, cutting a diagonal course across the path of the approaching patrol to lead them away from the foxhole. Shawn had every confidence that Nick's plan would work; shit, he thought, the big lug has gotten himself out of situations more dangerous than this, and returned home just fine. Still, a nagging doubt was in the back of Shawn's mind. Nick jogged, somewhat noisily, through the leafy growth of jungle. He could hear the patrol plainly, and he was hoping they heard him. He didn't want them to be suspicious that he was diverting them away from anything. He slowed his pace and tried to get a glimpse of them. He could see bodies moving in a single file about 20 yards away. They had just halted and were discussing something; probably a noise they had heard, which was just what Nick wanted. He started off again, making a bit more noise than before. Soon he was rewarded with the noise of the patrol changing direction to come after him. Not long after, the excited shouts of the patrol's scout warned Nick that he had been spotted. Shit, Nick thought, I wanted to lead them away from Shawn, not get myself captured, so he picked up his pace, his strong legs and ass muscles pouring on the speed. But Nick hadn't a clue who he was dealing with. Yes, the rebels knew that a US Marine was trying to infiltrate their camp. They had a mole planted in the Corps who warned them that a top notch veteran would be coming their way, and to do everything in their power to take him prisoner. Not only would Captain Nick Stark be a great moral victory, displayed in chains on worldwide television, but he could be a powerful bargaining chip in negotiations for the US to halt their covert operations. And finally, and most secret of all, was the rebels' intention to extract top secret information from Captain Stark using whatever means worked. To this end, they had brought in top Russian interrogators, versed in both physical and mental methods, as well as a doctor equipped with a full range of mind altering illegal substances. All of this was totally against the Geneva Convention, but an opportunity like this could not be passed up. Because the rebels knew what they were up against, they had sent additional patrols to circle behind their prey. Nick was running full speed into a trap. But Nick wasn't a veteran of many such missions for nothing; he anticipated this and had his ears pricked and his eyes peeled for any indication of impediments. He didn't hear or see anything. It was almost too suspicious. He decided to halt, hide, and wait it out. They had sent out a large patrol which was unusual in itself, so he suspected that his presence and identity were known to the rebels. He quickly clambered up into a tree and hid in the foliage. Sure enough, soon the patrol to his rear came by and he saw them pass. As they tromped by, hot on what they thought was Nick's trail, a distant WHUMP! came to Nick's ears. It sounded like light artillery testing. Damn, thought Nick, too bad Shawn wasn't already in position to capture that on film. He idly hoped that they would continue such tests tomorrow. The more incriminating stuff Shawn captured on film, the better. And it wouldn't hurt for Shawn to get some good recognition too. Only a few minutes after the last of the patrol walked by, a lone figure passed below Nick. Thin, wiry with corded muscle, and dressed all in black, the man moved slowly and stealthily. He turned to and fro constantly, looking and listening. He was looking for something, and Nick had a pretty good idea what it was. Nick's gut tightened reflexively, his shoulders and biceps flexing. The man had dark slicked back hair; he obviously wasn't Central American. Nick wasn't a veteran for nothing; this guy had `hired gun' written all over him. Shit, Nick thought, gotta be careful of that one. The dark man passed slowly out of Nick's view. Soon Nick heard the sound of the patrol catching up to the patrol that had been sent out ahead, and his original suspicions were confirmed. They had sent out two patrols, plus the hired gun; but Nick had outsmarted them. Now the problem was that he had told Shawn he was going to head back the way the brothers had come. With that route cut off, Nick thought he should return to the foxhole, and he could help Shawn sneak up to the camp. Plus there might be time for another session of mansex. This made Nick's cock grow to full erection, trapped painfully in his tight pants. So Nick thudded to the ground to quietly sneak back to today's foxhole and regroup with Shawn. Quick silent steps returned Nick to the foxhole, only to see the foliage he had placed there roughly tossed aside. Nick went cold with terror. Had they found Shawn? Had Shawn disobeyed orders and come after him? Or maybe Shawn had taken the initiative to find different cover, or even headed to the base right away to try and complete the mission. Nick quietly turned in a circle searching for clues as to which way Shawn might have gone. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of black clothing. Shit! It was the hired gun, and he had spotted Nick. Nick turned and started at a dead run toward the rebel base, figuring Shawn had gone ahead to snap some pics while daylight remained. Nick figured he would use his considerable skills to lure the hired gun after him, then turn and fight and put a bullet through his head when the time was right. Then he would radio for Shawn's location. But it was not to be. After only about 100 yards, Nick entered a small clearing. As he did so, he saw and heard the greenery surrounding the clearing seem to come alive. Rebel soldiers, probably twenty of them, were hiding everywhere. They entered the clearing, trying to cut off Nick's escape path. Nick screamed in frustration and tried to plow his way through. At this close range he knew they wouldn't fire for fear of hitting in each other, plus he had a sinking feeling that they wanted him alive. He plowed into two soldiers, trying to knock them down and get past them. One was flung to the side by Nick's incredible strength, but the other hung tenaciously on, his arms around Nick's waist. Before Nick could extricate himself, two more were on him, trying to drag him to the ground. Nick swung out wildly, hitting one in the face, and gut punching the other. But as soon as one or two were knocked aside, more replaced them. It was a losing battle. Soon Nick was brought down, the proud Marine pinned on the ground, still struggling. They tried to grab his big arms and slip ropes around them, but Nick's great strength prevented that. It was almost a stalemate; they held him, but couldn't get him in any position to restrain him. Soon the hired gun walked up, and entered Nick's field of vision. He silently appraised Nick, who stopped his struggles but didn't relax his muscles. The hired gun reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Without a word he tossed them onto Nick's hard belly. "You will put those on," he commanded. Nick narrowed his eyes, but didn't move to cuff himself. The hired gun pulled out his rifle, cocked it, and knelt down between Nick's legs. He shoved the barrel of it roughly into Nick's balls. "DO IT!" he commanded. Nick knew they wanted him alive. He knew equally well that he would survive even if they shot his balls off. So Nick relaxed his arms, and the rebels let go of them, but remained wary of the big Marine stud. Nick sighed, picked up the cuffs, and one by one clicked them onto his thick wrists, in front of his body. "Get him up," ordered the hired gun. Nick was hauled to his feet by two of the larger rebels holding onto Nick's huge biceps and lifting him. As they were doing so, Nick quickly, deftly swung up his cuffed wrists and cold cocked one of the two men holding him. A roundhouse kick took out the other, and Nick took one step toward the jungle, intending to make a run for it. A thousand stars exploded in his head as the hired gun swung his rifle butt up and struck Nick viciously on the base of the skull. The rifle butt came away with blood on it, and Nick crumpled unceremoniously to the ground, deadly still. At a nod from the hired gun, the rebels bound Nick's ankles with rope, and brought a long stout pole from the jungle. Since Nick would not be able to walk under his own power, they would have to carry him. The pole was thrust between the bound Marine's wrists and ankles, and 225 pounds of dead weight lifted and carried off. Nick's handsome head bounced, no muscle control holding it up. He was out cold. The hired gun was an expert at subduing big men, and knew the places that quickly took them down. After a quarter mile journey, Nick was brought into the center of the camp and set down. His ankles were untied, and his camouflage pants and boots stripped off him. They sat him up, still unconscious, took off the cuffs, stripped him to the waist, and recuffed his big arms behind him. Then extra chains were brought, lots of them, far more than was necessary to keep the hunk marine in bondage. Chains circled Nick's tight waist, then another set went up his back, securing his wrists further, then over his shoulders and down his pecs. These were joined with a loop of chains around Nick's chest, snug up under his pecs. Finally, his ankles were chained and shackled. The big stud marine, nearly naked and in chains, was manhandled to a standing position and bound to an upright pole in the center of the camp. A cold bucket of water dashed into his face brought Nick to his senses. He shook his head, water splattering. He was blinded by the lights of a television camera, broadcasting the image of the bound, muscular hairy chested US Marine around the world. Nick tensed up to test his bonds, but he looked down his body and knew that there was no escaping. Nick groaned from the pain in his head as much as from the frustration of having been captured. He wondered dully why they left his skivvies on him, but he knew the answer. The major networks would not broadcast a naked adult male, with penis and testicles exposed, but with his cock and balls covered, his humiliating capture could be safely shown around the globe. Nick hung his head in shame, both at his capture and his near nakedness. But what was most in his mind was that which was most precious to him: SHAWN! Oh God, if only Nick knew where his little brother was. He would give anything to know that had gotten away, was all right. SHAWN'S STORY: Nick had only been gone several minutes. Damn him, I know he's trying to protect me, but now I get to worry about him! Shawn was always a loner; he thought he knew better than stupid Marine regulations. He wanted to be a hero, and hated the idea of waiting until nightfall to move in, and then wait until dawn to take his surveillance photos. He figured there were a couple hours left of daylight, plus with a large patrol out searching for him and Nick, the base would be less heavily guarded than usual. Shawn thought he would test the waters by carefully peeking his head out of the foxhole, just a bit, to look and listen to see if the coast was clear. Alberto Cassini was indeed a hired gun, brought in the Central American rebels to help them neutralize the interference that the United States was throwing in their path. The mole placed in the Marine base had let him know that Captain Nick Stark had been sent in, but a sixth sense told Alberto that their was more to it than that. Alberto had studied Nick's file, and studied it for any signs of possible weakness. It was his job to bring down big men, and knowing your enemy was one key. And so it was that he recognized Nick on sight as he left the foxhole, and covered it with foliage. Alberto was safely hidden a few yards away. Alberto usually worked alone, but this time he had two assistants, hand picked for their size and strength. They would be needed to help escort captive Marines back to base after Alberto took them down, either conscious or unconscious. Those louts made enough noise to raise the dead, so he had them waiting twenty yards back while he spied on Nick. Why was Nick covering his hiding place with greenery? To cover his tracks? Alberto thought not. He lay very still as he watched the hugely built stud Marine lope off into the jungle. He knew he could catch up with him, and that two patrols were on the lookout as well. Alberto bided his time, keeping his eyes glued to the foxhole. He had a suspicion. Alberto was rewarded a few minutes later as a dark, handsome face peered out of the foxhole, obviously scanning the surrounding undergrowth. It only barely registered in Alberto's mind that the handsome figure bore a strong resemblance to Captain Stark as he gently lobbed the concussion grenade into the foxhole with deadly precision. BOOM! A dull thud rung out as Alberto left his place of hiding and sauntered over to what was left of the foxhole, hailing his henchman to join him. As the smoke cleared, he made out the inert form of a second Marine, face down on the leafy ground, torso and arms splayed out on the surface of the ground. Obviously the Marine had just started to leave the foxhole when the grenade rendered him unconscious. His fine ass was perched on the edge of the hole. Alberto grabbed his arm roughly and rolled him over, face up. The darkly handsome figure of what was obviously Nick Stark's younger brother greeted Alberto. He was dazed from the explosion. Alberto checked for a pulse. Yes, he was alive. All the better. The hired gun took ahold of Shawn's tank top and wrenched it apart, ripping it down the middle. Shawn's finely scupted pecs and soft nipples were exposed. Alberto gazed lustily at the beautiful body on the young Marine as he lifted Shawn's dog tags. `Evans,' he thought; `Stark's half brother, then.' He vaguely remembered something about a sibling in Nick's file, as he rubbed his hand greedily over Shawn's upper body, cupping the pecs. Getting his mind back on the job, and wanting to restrain Shawn's inert form before he regained consciousness, Alberto hollered for his two henchmen. They dragged Shawn fully out of the foxhole, removed the remains of his tank top, and pulled his muscled arms together. One of them bound Shawn's wrists with rope while the other placed his booted legs together and similarly secured his ankles. Alberto nodded to the stronger of the two men, who lifted Shawn's dead weight with a grunt, draping him over his shoulder. Shawn's bare waist disappeared into his olive web belt and camouflage pants, his firm ass hanging over the henchman's back. Alberto reached up and cupped Shawn's butt, thinking of the fun he would have later. He looked at the two hired thugs, and told them, "Hands off" while still holding his hand on Shawn's ass. They got the message; the fine body of the US Marine was for Alberto only. Alberto sent them on their way, with the unconscious Shawn slung over the shoulder of the larger of the two henchmen, then went in pursuit of his original quarry, Nick Stark himself.