Date: Sun, 16 Dec 2018 18:19:25 +0100 From: James Rozo Subject: A Brat's Peregrination-5 A Brat's Peregrination - 5 By Ensign James Rozo, USN - - - - - - - - - - - - - Author's Notes: Sincere gratitude is extended to F.E. Cooper. Friend and confidant, his insights, creativity, and lectures on man's dancing mind and body inspired this chapter. Inspiration on man's relationship with time and the universe was also drawn from the poetry of T.S Eliot. Arbitrary points along the continuum, the past, present, and future are all eternally present and all unredeemable. Only in the peregrination beyond time can man find the divine. Lingam is best translated as `Wand of Light'. The phallic representation of the Hindu deity Lord Shiva, the lingam receives, stores, and generates life creating power. When aroused and engorged with life forces it fills the recipient with pleasure and illumination. Every orgasm is a divine experience. And according to ancient Tantra universal consciousness can only be achieved through the lingam. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Chapter 5: Lingam Rising Midshipman 4/c Hopkins completes his plebe year at Annapolis. He proudly sports a new Navy Achievement Medal on his dress white uniform. Awarded by the Commandant of Midshipman, the accompanying cryptic citation commends his exemplary performance during a special mission to serve congressional leaders. Excited to commence youngster cruise, he receives temporary duty orders to USS Sims FF1059. Homeported in Mayport Florida, the Knox-class frigate is named for Admiral William Sowden Sims, Commander US Naval Forces Europe during World War I. Built by Avondale Shipyard, commissioned 03 Jan 1970, displacing 4,200 tons, the 438 foot vessel makes 27 knots. Performing an anti-submarine warfare mission, the frigate protects amphibious expeditionary forces, carrier battle groups, and merchant convoys. Armed with ASROC, Harpoon, Sea Sparrow, MK-46 torpedoes, and a 5-inch / 54 caliber MK 42 gun, she brings a preponderance of force to the equation. She is manned by 18 officers and 267 men. Coordinating with the Naval Academy summer detailer, the ship's Captain is pleased to have Hopkins aboard. Like Hopkins, the highly decorated officer has a small gold `M' device on his uniform signifying devotion to divine masculinity. Per U.S. Code and Navy Regulations, the Captain is responsible for the safety, welfare, and spiritual needs of his men. Establishing an exemplary shipboard culture of cooperation, respect, and acceptance, the crew is primed for the next evolutionary step. For the next six weeks the ship's motivated sailors will indoctrinate Hopkins on shipboard equipment & systems, operational procedures, unwritten fleet rules, and the rhythm of deckplate life. Pursuing requisite qualification, many lessons not found in any USNA syllabus will be vigorously imparted. In turn, the midshipman will ignite a spiritual awakening and provide direction. Because a sailor without a destination cannot hope for favorable winds. - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1MC: `Shift Colors'. The frigate puts to sea with high tide. Assigned to Deck Department Hopkins experiences enlisted servitude. Running with Boatswain's Mates (BM), he works 12-hour shifts, stands 3-section bridge watch, and participates in special evolutions: sea & anchor detail, general quarters, and underway replenishments. Taking meals on the mess decks, quartered in a communal berthing compartment, he endures the brutal existence of a junior blue-jacket. And there's no doubt about it... enlisted life on a tin-can sucks. Figuratively and literally. Constrained at sea, the sailors' interactions quickly take alternative avenues. With traditional outlets unavailable, non-rates are by necessity vigorously pursued. Exercising appreciable skills, alpha males adroitly manipulate minions' malleable masculinity. Insatiable appetites are addressed as carnivores efficiently cull, attack and subjugate defenseless bottom dwellers. And while fresh seafood is delicious fare, tantalizing midshipmen, a seasonal delicacy not often found on the menu, always garner special attention. Hopkins understands the harsh realities of life at sea: big fish eat little fish. And coercion, sexual abuse, and rape are ranks' prerogative. Fortunately, Hopkins' extensive experience aboard USS Daniels and at the Norfolk Fleet Recreation Center, in conjunction with skills honed at Annapolis, have prepared him well for youngster cruise. With a heightened sense of adventure he is eager to face the challenge. A wondrous undertaking, there's nothing like the camaraderie, intimacy, and spirituality of sailing the high-seas with shipmates and brothers, rascals and rogues, and kindred souls. It's an opportunity to advance the Navigators' agenda. And spread the gospel of divine masculinity. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sailors know the stories written in the night sky. Humanity's celestial heritage. Searching for meaning, human hopes, fears, and dreams are translated onto the stars. Radiating in aeonian splendor, starlight travels through the expanse as patterns are construed by man's imagination into constellations. Imbued with import, the stalwart sentinels tell ancient tales of heroes, gods, and creation. Aligned with Orion's belt are the Seven Sisters of Pleiades. The dazzling stars possess profound spiritual importance for many cultures. In Native American origin mythology the great tribes are direct descendants from the Pleiadians, an advanced race of extraterrestrials. Evolving towards pure light and consciousness, the star ancestors communicate with emissaries on Earth to help guide human ascension into higher dimensions. Inclined from the celestial equator at 63-degrees, the Milky Way cross the plane of the solar ecliptic through the constellations of Monoceros and Aquila-Serpens-Ophiuchus. Whirling across the cosmos, bound in a gravitational dance with Andromeda, the galaxy hurtles towards cataclysmic annihilation. A sailor smokes the day's last cigarette. Concupiscence stirs inside the worn dungarees. Venus slowly emerges from behind distant clouds like a beacon of the night... the second-brightest natural object in the night sky after the moon. Named after the Roman goddess of beauty, love, and desire, the `evening star' never ventures far above the horizon as it transits the firmament. Hypnotically quiet, a blanket of silence securely wraps the ship as it glides smoothly through the blazing blackness. Off the port beam mounds of amorphous luminescence drift by on the pellucid Caribbean waters. Beyond the horizon lurk uncharted phantom islands inhabited by revenants and demons. Hopkins materializes from the entanglement of shadow and star light. It's a clandestine collaboration of convenience. Taking station, he kneels between the smoking sailor's muscular thighs. No words are necessary. With steady hands he reverentially extracts the engorged lingam. Experiencing a spiritual convergence, he senses the power radiating from the earthly manifestation of perfection. Leaning forward he kisses the blood-engorged mushroom head. His tongue instinctively rolls around the magic glans and consumes the leaking hallucinogenic jam. The natural entheogen induces transcendence replete with synesthesia and altered time perception. And he commences a spiritual journey. Transported at superluminal speeds, immersed in a vortex of dancing stars, he travels far beyond ordinary consciousness. Embarked upon a noetic quest, he explores the miracle of being. Tapping into the Pleiadian Realm, wondrous knowledge is revealed and love flows from boundless benevolence. Pressing firmly on the midshipman's head, the authoritative sailor forces himself inside the mouth... seeking and finding luxurious accommodations down the experienced throat. Surrounded by the immensity of sea and sky, feeling the presence of a higher power, he writhes in immutable pleasure. Conjoined by destiny, the primal dance transcends the boundaries of masculinity. And both are connected to the mystical universe. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sims is steaming in relatively shallow waters. Lacking the calm deep of the abyssal plain, strong currents and severe winds result in turbulent seas. In berthing compartments throughout the ship non-rates lacking sea-legs flounder... inadvertently attracting the attention of seasoned salts and seadogs. A plethora of potential prey is on parade. And for many innocence will not survive the night. 1MC: `Standby for the evening prayer.' Aboard warships at sea a brief non-denominational prayer connects sailors to a routine that has been part of the seafaring tradition throughout the Nation's history. 1MC: `Let us pray. Heavenly Father watch over and protect your servants at sea, our shipmates and brothers. Grant us strength and wisdom to successfully execute the arduous missions assigned by our leaders. Provide us with unflinching courage to defend with honor, dignity, and devotion the rights of all who are imperiled by injustice. We humbly ask these things in your name, amen.' "Amen," echo the Boatswain's Mates. Deck Department's berthing consists of 18 racks, standup lockers, a 3-foot square lounge table, and an adjoining head. Located forward of the beam and outboard of centerline, its inhabitants experience tumultuous linear motions and rotational forces about the ship's transverse and longitudinal axes. Naked sailors abound. A cornucopia of delights is on display. Handsome young men with exquisite complexions and annealed musculature take pride showing-off their genetic inheritance. The spectacular variety and nuance of anatomical structures and appendages is indicative of America's diverse immigrant composition. Cavorting with confidence, nightly rituals are performed as seadogs play grab-ass with shipmates. The candid homoerotic image, with subtle gradations of light and shadow, is reminiscent of fine art photography. And ample erections increase the eroticism of the composition. Taking inventory Hopkins visually gorges himself. A profusion of flesh vies for his attention. Mesmerized by pervasive masculinity, his spirit soars, lofted by the presence of magnificence. Adorned with body-art, many sailors have dramatic and colorful nautical tattoos. Deeply symbolic, intertwined with the mythology of the sea, it's a tradition that has identified seafarers for millennia. Besides the ubiquitous `USN', several men have variations of mermaids singing to passing ships. Born from the sea, linked with tragedy, mermaids represent the mythological forces of love, allure, and desire. Dangerous temptresses, legends maintain that mermaids often lured sailors to their doom with their seductive songs. The tattoo is a cautionary reminder that the search for love is a dangerous endeavor. Many of the senior Boatswain's Mates also have anchor tattoos. It's worn as a badge of honor and pride. Anchors are associated with safe voyages, stability, and protection from adversity. There is a naval tradition that only sailors who have crossed the ocean and returned home can receive an anchor tattoo. A rite of passage, the tattoo represents the transition from novice to seasoned mariner. Lounging in racks a few sailors nonchalantly stroke their shafts while perusing pornographic magazines... a favorite at-sea activity. Accentuating length and girth, lost in reverie, they are indifferent to spectators, relishing the freedom afforded by the exclusive all-male environment. Not always a solitary endeavor, shipmates often lend a helping hand. BM1 Bryant surveys the compartment. The senior alpha has a stunning muscular physique and exquisite whiskey complexion... the amalgamation of his mother's Caribbean heritage and father's African roots. A dangerous enslaver, his mysterious eyes are dark liquid pools that charm, captivate, and conquer inferior males. Massive and disproportional, his shaft commands immediate respect. Reaching maximum tumescence - ten solid inches, it radiates furious focused energy. And like the duality of Brahma and Shiva, it possesses the power to simultaneously create and destroy. 1MC: `Taps, taps, lights out, the smoking lamp is out, all-hands turn into their own racks. Now taps'. The ballistic watertight hatch is dogged, white florescent overheads secured, and nighttime red-globed lights energized. Secluded and isolated below the waterline, vibrations reverberate through the shell plating and longitudinal stringers as water rushes past the hull. Infectious excitement floods the compartment. The pungent perfume of male sweat and testosterone is palpable. Experiencing an elevated pulse, Hopkins' body radiates a deeply evocative woodsy scent. The alluring fragrance, Polo cologne by Ralph Lauren, is a carefully constructed blend of masculine notes of leather, tobacco, and wood with basil and oak moss undertones. Feeding on communal energy, sailors with growing grins and erections exchange conspiratorial nods and maneuver towards Hopkins' bottom rack. Unable to contain their enthusiasm, they shiver from anticipation of the evening's planned festivities. BM1 Bryant commences the proceedings. "Hopkins, it's time to welcome you to the Fleet." "Front and center midshipman," commands another petty officer. The brat willingly vacates his rack. Standing at parade rest in front of the excited assemblage, he crisply snaps arms behind his back and spread his feet shoulder width apart. His head is straightforward with eyes unfocused gazing at destiny. He knows what to expect. Prior to departing Annapolis several firsties briefed him on the ubiquitous fleet initiation. Eagerly performed on midshipmen, the watershed ceremony commemorates the glorious transformation from contemptible landlubber to respectable fleet sailor. Submission, humility, and rebirth are central themes in the ritual. Hopkins is clad in blue and gold USNA crested tee-shirt and shorts. Oddly out of place, he is the only dressed occupant in the berthing compartment. The incongruence is quickly remedied. "Strip him," orders Bryant. After a brief entanglement of appendages all clothing is discarded. The midshipman is a tabernacle of physical perfection. Bright blue eyes, golden curly hair, flawless bronzed complexion, chiseled chest, striated abdomen, narrow waist, enticing genitalia, curvaceous ass, and corded quadriceps confirm an aristocratic bloodline. The cynosure of all enlisted eyes, the sailors stare in awe... lost in the adoration of masculine beauty. A gratification of the senses, visually feasting on the perfectly proportioned body, they are captivated like the Roman Emperor Hadrian by the Greek youth Antinous. "Get him ready," Bryant commands, breaking the spell. Knowing the routine, sailors escort Hopkins to the small lounge table. Confined in close quarters, their tumescence press against the midshipman's sensuous ass. Taking extensive liberties, inquisitive calloused hands explore the luxurious landscape. Aroused, the brat's proud shaft stands at attention and renders a crisp military salute. Twitching with excitement, a small glistening pearl emerges. Not surprisingly, like many midshipmen, he harbors a compelling fantasy of being forcibly stripped and publicly paraded by enlisted men. Placed atop the lounge table, he is spread out like a Southern after-church dinner. Gathering around with floodlight-wide eyes, the famished diners visually gorge themselves on the comestibles. "This is so awesome," exclaims a smirking BMSN. "Get your camera," another tells a shipmate. A vaudevillian BM3 moves between the midshipman's spread legs. Running trembling fingers through Hopkins' pubic hair, enjoying the erotic tactile sensation, he is eager to shear the boy. Theatrically deploying heavy-duty Wahl clippers, he skillfully removes the dense outcrop of androgenic hair. The depilation ceremony continues as Hopkins is generously slathered in Barbasol shaving cream... an emulsion of oils, surfactants, and alcohol. Singing the famous jingle, employing a well-honed straight razor, with lethal efficiency the entertainer eradicates all evidence of the hard earned virility. Reduced to prepubescence, Hopkins is symbolically emasculated. Riant sailors cheer as several cameras flash. The boy's comportment surprises the sailors. Most midshipmen struggle and vociferously protest the proceedings. But not Hopkins. Enjoying himself, he's grinning and laughing like a grade school kid on the first day of summer vacation. Embracing the moment, his extraordinary character, class, and candor leave a lasting impression. Hopkins understands the importance of ritual in the Navy. Creating a tangible connection to the past, it elevates current consciousness to achieve attunement with organizational values. Playing his part, he is proud to be on display for the men's enjoyment and spiritual enrichment. "Take him to the head," orders Bryant. And the procession vacates the berthing compartment. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Rites of passage are vital to a sailor's evolution. The small adjoining head with a brown & white speckled terrazzo deck contains one water closet, two urinals, two showers, and two sinks. Maneuvering around the white porcelain fixtures, the excited pack of sea dogs position the midshipman inside a stainless-steel shower stall. "On your knees," directs a BM2 with authoritative timbre. "Hands behind your back," barks another sailor. Without hesitation Hopkins descends with equanimity. Truckling to naval etiquette, showing respect, he signals submission to the superior ranked males. With head bowed, peaceful and contemplative, meditating like a disciple at Gethsemane, he silently recites The Midshipmen's Prayer: `Almighty Father, whose way is in the sea, whose paths are in the great waters, whose command is over all and whose love never faileth; let me be aware of Thy presence and obedient to Thy will. Keep me true to my best self, guarding me against dishonesty in purpose and in deed, and helping me so to live that I can stand unashamed and unafraid before my shipmates, my loved ones, and Thee. `Give me the will to do my best and to accept my share of responsibilities with a strong heart and a cheerful mind. Make me considerate of those entrusted to my leadership and faithful to the duties my country has entrusted in me. `Let my uniform remind me of the traditions of the service of which I am a part. If I am inclined to doubt, steady my faith; if I am tempted, make me strong to resist; if I should miss the mark, give me courage to try again. Guide me with the Light of Truth and give me strength to faithfully serve thee. Amen.' Grace descends upon the congregation. And the sweet floral odor of sanctity perfumes the air. Exercising leadership, walking in the authority he has earned, Bryant holds up his hands and quells the shivaree... commanding silence from his excited subordinates. Jockeying for unobstructed views, sailors grin with the knowledge of the events about to transpire. The beliefs of modern sailors are an amalgamation of ancient legends and myths. A mariner's world is densely populated by a menagerie of spirits and gods. Impinging on their lives, sentient entities with consciences and purpose must be placated. Prudent sailors always pay homage and request permission from the immortals before venturing out into uncharted waters. Contrite landlubbers must also be absolved of sin and converted into men-of-the-sea. The BM1commences the transformative ceremony. "Since the dawn of time sailors have been protected by Aeolus, god and ruler of the winds, his mistress Eos, goddess of the dawn, and their progeny the Anemori. We pray this humble offering finds favor and brings fair winds. We beseech the Four Winds - Boreas the north wind, Notus the south wind, Zephyrus the west wind, and Eurus the east wind to grant safe passage and good fortune on this voyage." Bryant incants ancient verses, communicates with the gods, and intercedes on Hopkins' behalf. Obtaining a favorable disposition, absolved of transgressions and re-born a deep-water sailor, he is now a member of the mystery cult of Aeolus - the obedient servant of wind and wave. "Welcome to the fleet midshipman Hopkins." Completing the metamorphoses Bryant unleashes a powerful golden stream - symbolically baptizing Hopkins. The warm torrent christens the initiate's forehead and runs down the radiant face. Entering his mouth, transformed, the wine's unique gout de terroir resonates on his palate. Applause erupts from the appreciative audience. Stepping up to the stall, additional sailors contribute to the holy consecration. Aiming with purpose, they take turns at the ritual anointment, releasing a deluge... drenching the boy's rapturous face. The procession continues unabated for several minutes. Once complete, Hopkins is ritualistically washed. Standing under a steaming showerhead, soapy enlisted hands explore ever every inch of his body. Paying particular attention to the inviting ass, several excited sailors naturally compete to breach the elastic aperture. Prudently, they properly prepare the pliant passageway. Shampooed and washed, transformed and reborn, Hopkins is escorted by jubilant sailors back to the berthing compartment. With the ceremonial formalities completed the initiation transitions to the next glorious phase. Commencement of nautical mile certification. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Whisperings of the certification process abound at Annapolis. When questioned, most of the enormously embarrassed upperclassmen refuse to provide salient details of their experiences. Fortunately for Hopkins, as a Navigator on a sacred mission, he's well informed. Used in navigation, a nautical mile is a unit of length equivalent to one minute of arc of latitude measured along any meridian, or about one minute of arc of longitude at the equator. By international agreement, it is exactly 1,852 meters, approximately 72,913.4 inches. "Let's get your certification started," asserts BM1 Bryant. "Oh hell yeah! Finally," exclaims an excited shipmate. A thin foam mattress is placed on the deck. Encircled by sailors, Hopkins descends to his knees. Secure in faith, he dutifully embraces the opportunity to demonstrate unwavering commitment. Longing for communion, advancing the sacred proselytical mission through personal example, he will become the vessel of holy enlisted seed. Responsible for qualifying Hopkins, the sailors tremble with excitement envisioning moving him inches closer to nautical mile certification. A running record of every feeding and shafting is maintained in a logbook with the providers' name, number of strokes, total distance covered, date, and signature. Constrained to six weeks at sea, all-hands will be required to achieve certification. Bryant confidently strides forward. As the division's senior petty officer and deckplate leader, the first feeding is his inherent right. Taking charge and enormous pleasure, he smacks his massive appendage across Hopkins' face and positions the swollen bulbous glans on the boy's lips. A veteran at feeding midshipmen, he expects significant force and persistence will be required to secure quarters inside the diminutive mouth. Neither is in short supply. Feared and respected by his men, many have been on the receiving end of a brutal, impossible feeding. "Show it respect. Suck it." Hopkins has seen thousands of cocks. At Annapolis approximately 4,200 college boys participate in mandatory sports... and locker rooms overflow with masculinity. Additionally, he has surveyed several hundred sailors aboard USS Daniels and at the Norfolk Naval Base Fleet Recreation Center. But few rival Bryant's behemoth. The attraction is undeniable. Taking a deep breath, Hopkins inhales the powerful pheromones. The volatilized chemical compounds, modulators of socio-sexual behavior, enhance cognitive function and enflame his qi. Aroused, energy flows and circulates through internal pathways towards the seven chakra. A portrait of devotion, he extends his tongue, caresses the spongy head, and savors the amazing juices. Ingesting the addictive drug, embarking upon on a sacred vision quest, he enters an altered state of consciousness and bathes in the Pure Light of at the center of creation. Displaying equal parts determination and skill, he opens wide like an ophidian with cranial kinesis and hinged jaws. Meeting the challenge head on, transcending physical limitations, he engulfs the lingam's swollen crown until it finds sanctuary inside the welcoming mouth. "Hell yeah... it's in!" a sailor announces. "Way to go Hopkins!" shouts an awestruck sailor. Impressed, the sailors offer enthusiastic congratulations. Occupying all available real estate, the expansive shaft is wedged tightly between Hopkins' tongue and upper palate. Compressing the tonsils and uvula, it's housed exactly where the universe commands. Savoring the sensation, rocking his hips slowly but insistently, Bryant works another few inches inside the midshipman's mouth. Navigating in the restricted channel, advancing with difficulty, the flared glans approaches the throat's precipice. At this point Bryant typically runs aground. Wedged like a cork in a wine bottle, the enormous cockhead hermetically seals constricted passageways, preventing forward progress. Lacking ability and conviction, suffocating subordinates always beg for mercy with pleading tearful eyes. But not Hopkins. He defies conventional expectations. Expanding his mind and throat, calming the turbulence like the messiah upon the Sea of Galilee, he confidently steps beyond corporeal limitations into the still point of the turning universe. Lunging forward, impaling himself, he audaciously swallows the whole cock. Balls deep. The astonished sailors gasp in shock. "God damn... he took the whole fucking thing!" a sailor shouts. "Fuck... that's impossible," exclaims another. Bryant is stunned. For years the bisexual Southern Baptist petitioned with prayer to know the glory of deep physical unification. But he never expected intercession. With prayers answered, he experiences a paradigm shift and spiritual purification. And the pervasive presence of a superior power is palpable. Flooded with endorphins, expanding mindfulness, attaining a state of heightened awareness, his faith in divine masculinity is ignited. Submersed in soothing flowing energy, contemplating the congruence of circumstances, he is captivated by the beauty, magic, and synchronicity of existence. Everything in the universe is pulsating, vibrating, dancing. Imbued with grace, Hopkins' bright eyes radiate pure light and benevolence. Increasing suction, with balls two-blocked against his chin, his throat lovingly massages the tumescent lingam. In direct communication with the universal consciousness, he intones thoughts of harmony and peace. Thrusting in-and-out, Bryant is driven by impulses inherent in the rhythms of the universe. The alluring and flawless dance, like gravitationally bound galaxies waltzing across the cosmos, inspires profound wonder and gratitude for the mystery and miracle of existence. The universe loves a graceful dance partner. "Getting close...," Bryant advises. A prodigious spewer, he shivers, stiffens, and delivers his celestial gift. Filling Hopkins with baryonic matter created eons ago by exploding progenitor supernova, the eternal sustenance is ultimately provided by a generous and nurturing universe. Feasting, Hopkins devours the quintessence of life. Proclaiming the wonder, Bryant invites shipmates to experience salvation. Word spreads quickly throughout Sims. Receptive sailors searching for meaning and spiritual redemption hear the clarion call. Taking a leap of faith, revitalizing body, mind, and spirit through communion with the midshipman, they experience unparalleled clarity and universal deliverance. Devouring the wondrous cosmic smorgasbord, Hopkins savors every last morsel... converting and saving the sailors. Embarked upon an epicurean odyssey, with an insatiable appetite, willing palate, and undeniable skill, he embodies the Navigators' highest ideals. Reconciled among the stars, achieving transcendence beyond reality, the beauty and grandeur of the masculine experience is metamorphic. Imbedded and spiritually connected to the conscious matrix, gaining wisdom and understanding, the enlightened sailors join the noble cause. Worshiping divine masculinity, they take the next evolutionary step. It is man's innate nature to be an expression of godliness. Their faith will ripple down generations, transforming humanity. And Hopkins' spirit guide ascends into the night sky... ... rejoining his Pleiadian ancestors. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Comments and readers' experiences with sailors, afloat or ashore, are always of interest. The author may be reached at JRozoNavyDoD@gmx.com