Date: Wed, 18 Jan 2023 17:16:07 -0500 From: Michael Wisser Subject: Barracks Bitch Chapter 39 Hey Readers: If you like this story, please consider sending in a donation to Nifty so that this site can keep going. Just use the link: https://donate.nifty.org/) Thanks Weeble spent hours reconfiguring his makeshift ghillie. Every ten seconds he darted his head around looking for movement in the woods around him, paying special attention to his blind spots and doing his best to memorize features on the forest floor. If they looked even slightly different from what he remembered he got ready to run. He took a deep breath, knowing he was a paranoid wreck, but also realizing he had to be. He also decided he couldn't stay in one spot too long so he changed location frequently and chose positions that provided more cover and clear lines of sight. And maybe he was too paranoid, but if he felt or heard anything...ANYTHING unusual he scrambled away to find another hideout. Whisperman could be anywhere, but after thinking about the last two times he decided the psycho enjoyed being able to sneak up on him and remain hidden, unrecognized and anonymous. Would Whisperman still come at him if he knew Weeble could see him? So far, he hadn't, but that didn't mean he wouldn't. Weeble planned escape routes in every direction just in case. He memorized his paths, and had created a picture in his mind of everywhere he'd been as well as the general locations of the groups he'd come across. Everything was relative to the position of the compound, which was a fixed location against which he could create an overall map in his head of the woods. Ravines, ridges, fallen trees, clearings, creek beds, odd groups of trees or unusual growth. So far he'd identified almost all the Bravos in their groups on his runs. None had seen him. But he hadn't stuck around to spy beyond a general grasp of what they were being taught. He'd seen no sign of Assmunch in any of the groups. After a pass by the clearing where they'd camped last night he noticed their gear was gone and the clearing was empty. He'd hoped to snag a few items from someone's kit. He'd have to improvise. Currently he was watching Bootlicker and his escort, who were alone, laying on the ground from a distance watching Chunk, Olympic, Sleeper and Holler discussing a plan to infiltrate the compound. Weeble had his back to the groups, choosing to use his ears while keeping his eyes on the approach from the other direction. While Whisperman could probably escape detection and pass by the groups he'd have to swing wide. Weeble grinned. Whisperman didn't want to get caught either. The groups he was watching were useful approach restrictions. "The moon's dark tonight," he heard Olympic say in a low voice. "That helps on approach, but there's bound to be lights on the buildings of the compound. We'll definitely be seen if there's a watch." "Assume you'll be seen." The soldier with them offered. In a slightly louder voice. "You should always assume you'll be seen." That seemed strange, the way he raised his voice. Already on edge, Weeble felt his internal alarm ring, the one that said `not normal'. He made a quick check of Bootlicker and his instructor. They hadn't moved. Weeble's time was up. He moved away in a slow, fluid low crouch until he made it around the small mound he'd chosen as his retreat. He glanced quickly behind him and cringed when he saw the disturbed ground he'd come across. He had to be better. Leaving paths and trails would get him caught. He froze when he felt a pressure against his groin. "Easy there puppy. You don't want to lose those." The Whisper came from below. He started to look down. "Uh-uh... no fair looking now, too late for that." Whisperman said, then Weeble felt a sharp pain just above his knee and he swallowed the cry that tried to escape from his throat. The jab was just enough to draw blood. "Good. Nice and quiet, just how I like it." Weeble's mind raced. He dismissed the urge to attack. Without eyes on the knife that just jabbed him it would be impossible to avoid serious injury. Whisperman had to be in a prone position, likely on his back or his side. The same mound that covered Weeble's retreat allowed Whisperman to hide in wait and Weeble wasn't stupid, he knew Whisperman probably knew it was his best path of withdrawal and Weeble had walked right into him. And in spite of never taking his eyes off the woods that led up to the mound, Whisperman still found a way to get there. Weeble kicked himself. He'd chosen a retreat that provided the same cover that allowed an enemy to sneak up on him. The mental dissection of his mistake took a single second, in the next he executed a leap and dive. He needed distance. It would take Whisperman at least that long to get to his feet and before Weeble ran he might get a glimpse of the man he faced in this sick game. But if Whisperman was behind him, he had a clear shot to the compound a mile or so to the west and Weeble could make it there before him if he was quick and smart. As he rolled to his feet after his dive he darted his head back to look. A shiver went down his back when he saw nothing there, nothing on the ground, and he ran. He couldn't afford a single moment of confusion as his legs pumped. He felt the blood from the wound above his knee soak into his trousers. Another cut. He'd have to get more pine sap which wasn't fuckin easy to get from a pine tree in winter, but it was the only thing that would seal the wound with an antiseptic. It wasn't the same kind of cut that Whisperman had given him on his ears. He wasn't sure, he didn't have a mirror to check, but each ear had a notch in it now on the outside edge. At least they weren't bleedin anymore, but fuck that pine sap stung for an hour after he'd smeared it on his ears. But that had given him the best idea for camouflage he could come up with. Everything stuck to that sap. Yeah, he was a fuckin mess and looked like some woods monster, but he had leaves, pine needles, twigs and whatever else he could find plastered all over him. He could lay down on the ground and someone could be a foot away and not figure out he was laying there. He had to undress to do it properly by laying his BDU's out to get complete coverage, but his adrenaline and fear kept him warm. Currently he was running full out in a straight line. He knew he was fast, too fast to catch easily. No more fuckin around, he'd chosen his position for a direct run to the compound deliberately for exactly this situation and while he'd hoped that he'd see the Whisperman coming first or avoid him entirely their encounter played into his backup plan perfectly. The only way he'd know where Whisperman was could only be if he let himself be found. He was so intent on his goal that he almost missed the large group camped ahead. He darted to cover behind a large oak and quickly looked around the area to see if Whisperman was there. Nothing. What the fuck? Who were these guys in his way? The compound was just sixty yards or so away, he could see a couple buildings in the distance. These weren't the Bravos. He'd made another assumption that fucked him up. He thought the Bravos were the only group out here. He should have expected there were more compound soldiers, there were too many buildings for the small number that he'd counted with the Bravos. He controlled his breathing, pulling his arm up in front of his mouth so the steam coming from his breath wouldn't make a visible cloud that appeared from behind the tree. Always assume you'll be seen. Another lesson. Whisperman was somewhere nearby, he knew his was. Weeble had to pick a better position. This one would allow Whisperman to escape notice by the group if he decided to attack Weeble. He had to find someplace far too open to let Whisperman get to him without being caught. He took his time scouting, always with an eye on the woods. There was a perfect position about fifteen yards from the group encamped, a deadfall where an old rotten tree had broken off about three feet from the ground and lay across another tree it took with it when it fell. A lot of spindly empty branches as well as the two thick heavy trunks made a perfect hiding place underneath, as well as provide limited attack approaches that Whisperman could use, if the psycho could find him. But fuck, the trap of the last mound sprung into his mind. If Whisperman had somehow gotten ahead of him it was exactly the sort of place Weeble would choose, and exactly where Whisperman would wait for him. FUCK FUCK FUCK. He knew he should go around, circle back and come at the compound another way to avoid the group entirely. It was decision time. What was his goal? He had many. Safety, sure, but was that first? He wanted to learn, he didn't want to fall behind his brothers. If he chose safety he wouldn't learn anything. Fuck. Safety was the coward's way. That was the old Weeble. So far, he'd escaped from Whisperman every time. And part of him had to assume... that fuckin word again... that he only got away because Whisperman wanted him to, or let him go. Did he need to know why? Could he assume Whisperman had another goal? Even if he could believe that Whisperman told him the truth, that he loved playing this cat and mouse game, Weeble had to figure he wasn't good enough at it to actually give the sicko any real fun. It could be that Weeble was just an entertaining diversion from the real goal. And just behind the desire for survival, he had to admit he wanted to know what all this was about. Who were their hosts? Why were they here? Who was Whisperman and why was HE here, sneaking around? If there was something else going on, he had to warn the Bravos. While he doubted Major Collins would get them involved in anything bad, maybe the Major didn't know what was actually going on here. He didn't even know how the Major had the authority to take them anywhere, which was not normal in itself. That tipped the balance for him, and actually made the decision easy. The Bravos needed to know what they were involved in. No one told them anything, and whatever this was didn't fit anything official or above board. Secret compound in the woods? A group of soldiers who didn't wear uniforms, who certainly didn't maintain military grooming discipline with their sloppy clothes, hair that touched their ears and collars, and facial hair? Even the weapons Weeble saw weren't military issue and instead seemed like personal weapons that had been modified in a way the military would never allow. The explanation given by the guy instructing Shark's group seemed too basic and easy. `Don't need to know', `just follow orders'... In a military setting, under a command, absolutely. But whatever this was... that didn't fly. So, the deadfall position was his play. He couldn't turn himself over to whoever was left in the compound, he'd never get any real intel that way. He had to let Whisperman play his game and trust it wouldn't get too out of hand. So far, his wounds weren't life threatening or debilitating, just inconvenient and painful. He could take inconvenience and pain. Hell, that was what infantry was all about anyway. He felt better, having made a decision. He crawled his way over to the fallen tree. When he was a few feet away, he quietly spoke. "I know you're here, if I see the fuckin knife I bolt and take my chances with that camp. You fuckin psycho." He wasn't sure and he might be talking to empty air, but it was worth a shot. He got nothing in return and scooted in, looking for any unusual mounds or shapes, crawling very slowly keeping an escape just in case. The ground moved and he rolled instantly, avoiding a boot to the face by a hair, his reflexes saving him. "Better." The whisper came. "I didn't use the knife. You can still run." Weeble stayed, crouched just out of reach. "No. I need answers." He replied in another whisper. "First smart thing I've heard out of your mouth, kid." Whisperman answered. "Crawl in. We need to talk." Weeble's heart was pounding but he committed. He still moved slowly. He hadn't had time to scout any perimeter guards and they could be anywhere. "Snuggle in close." The ground beneath the tree trunk moved upwards, some kind of debris covered tarp, and Weeble rolled under the edge of a flap. This position had been prepared, it was a hollow depression. Weeble felt good that he'd chosen a position that even Whisperman found suitable, but the preparation as a scouting location which was meant for a longer stay told him Whisperman had used this before. "Get close, we're going to get to know each other." Whisperman said, pulling Weeble's smaller body into him tight. He felt Whisperman's leg slide over him as well as his arm until they were spooned and Weeble knew he was stuck now. There would be no easy escape. There was barely enough room for a single grown man and now, with Weeble in there they were literally twisted up together. Whisperman's mouth was on his neck. At least he was warm. The man smelled of sweat and earth. "You've earned one question." Weeble thought about it. What was most important? "Who are the guys in the compound?" He decided. He needed to know what the Bravos were involved in. "It's complicated." Whisperman breathed. "They're a militia group we've had our eyes on for over a year. They are not the good guys." Weeble felt sick. What had Major Collins done? "Your turn. Who are you?" Whisperman asked. "We're just regular Army, we don't know why they sent us here." He answered honestly. Whisperman was silent for a few moments. "You're all still active duty?" "Yeah, just got done with Jump School at Benning." "So you aren't civilian recruits they're training to join them? Not recently separated or discharged?" Weeble shook his head just a little. "No." "Is this a mission? You here to get intel on this group?" Whisperman asked. "I couldn't tell you if we were." Weeble answered. "But no, we wasn't told nothin, just put on a couple transports and dropped off here." Whisperman held still for a full minute, his warm breath flowing over Weeble's neck. Weeble shoved down the automatic desire that bubbled up inside him. They were pressed together, the man's limbs covering him, his breath caressing his ear and neck while his lips were pressed firmly against him. Weeble was breathing in the heady scent of the man's musky odor and he couldn't help the answering sexual arousal it elicited. There was something incredibly intimate about this. Part of it was that he'd deliberately submitted himself to this man. He was vulnerable, and Whisperman was in complete control. It had become habit for those factors to bring out his sexual desire. Fuckin hell, as Assmunch would say. This was no time for that, and Whisperman was NOT otherwise desireable or attractive for fuck's sake. But Weeble knew after the terrifying sequence of evasive action of the past six or seven hours a nice hard fuck, even by this psycho, would go a long way towards settling his head. The sick bastard would probably want to use his knife in some way but as long as it didn't go further than what Whisperman had already done, he knew he'd let him. What the hell was wrong with him? "Is that group over there with you?" Whisperman finally asked. "No, all the Bravos are out there in the smaller groups you saw. I don't know who these guys are and I didn't get a good look. Too busy watching for your fuckin knife." Weeble answered. Very little light filtered into their hiding place. Whisperman seemed like he was way taller than Weeble, so maybe six feel tall, or more. He wasn't that big in size, but his body felt hard pressing against Weeble, definitely active and worked out, with muscles primed for action and not for show. Probably a lot like Assmunch, definitely not like Sleeper or Chunk. "They are teaching you skills." Whisperman observed, almost like he was talking to himself. "I need someone who knows more. Which one of your group would have answers?" "Assmunch might know. Or...wait. That last guy, the one who was alone with one of the compound guys, spying on the other group at the last spot? Bootlicker, he always knows shit." "You get all that Hammer?" Whisperman said. "Solo three might have more intel." Weeble tensed slightly, and Whisperman responded by holding him tighter. "You're not alone, not the only one." Weeble breathed out. That answered so many questions, how he could never seem to shake Whisperman, or hide well enough, how he always seemed to be everywhere Weeble thought he couldn't be. How Whisperman made it to this position ahead of Weeble and still found time to hide himself like this. "Bingo. I figured you weren't as stupid as Hammer said you were. He didn't cut you up too bad did he?" Weeble sighed. A weight he'd felt since this all started left him. "No, not too bad. Got my ears, my neck, and my knee." "Sorry about that kid." And it even sounded genuine. "What now?" Weeble asked, relaxed and calm again after what had been a harrowing day. "Get some sleep. I'll wake you when we move." He didn't have to tell Weeble twice. Now that he knew he was safe from Whisperman, the 36 hours without sleep caught up to him. ************** He didn't know how long it had been but when he woke up it was after sunset. Their little hole was dark, and his captor was breathing softly against his neck, still. "Awake?" His captor whispered. "Yeah." Weeble answered. "Hungry?" "Starving." His captor moved. A few seconds later Weeble felt something against his cheek. "Nutrition bar." Weeble took it, tore it open with his teeth and started chewing. "Gimme a bite." His captor said, so Weeble held it back over his shoulder close to where he knew his mouth was. He felt the bar move in his hands. "Eat the rest. Thanks." His captor said around the mouthful. "This isn't so bad." Weeble said, around his own mouthful. Nutrition bars were always so chewy, hard to break up. "Beats runnin all over the woods tryin to get away from a psycho with a knife." His captor chuckled. "You did pretty good though." He answered. "You should have heard Hammer cuss when you got him shot at." "He did that his own stupid self. Hey, you don't think he'll do somethin bad to Bootlicker, do you?" Weeble asked. His captor shrugged. "He won't kill him, but depending on how cooperative he is...". The remainder of that sentence hung in the air like a weight. "That's my fault." Weeble breathed, as he carefully folded the now empty wrapper and tucked it in a pocket. . His captor's arms tightened around him. "How old are you kid?" "I'm just twenty." Weeble said weakly. "It's a hard lesson. But if your Bootlicker is anything like you, he'll figure out a way to avoid the worst of it. You have to trust your brother." Weeble realized he was right. Bootlicker could take care of himself. There were stakes here so far beyond them, stakes they hadn't asked for. They'd been thrown into a situation beyond their control and they were helpless pawns at this point. "So tell me about you, kid. You mentioned someone named Assmunch, and Bootlicker. Nicknames. What's yours?" Weeble gave a small laugh. "Oh, we're friends now? Sharin nicknames?" His captor laughed, but not loudly. "Sure, why not? Call me Mole. It's not what my brothers call me, but it's my designation for this op. You already heard Hammer." "Hammer, I was callin him Whisperman in my head. His whisper is creepy as hell." Weeble answered. "Yeah, Hammer has.... Issues." Mole said. "I'm Weeble, but my name's Victor." Mole breathed out into his neck. "Weeble huh?" Mole's lips felt good when he spoke against Weeble's skin. And now that he knew Mole wasn't Whisperman, it sent a warm tingling rush through him. "Why Weeble?" "Maybe a little cause I'm small, but Assmunch says it's because I don't stay down and always get back up. I don't quit." When Mole squeezed this time, it felt more like a hug. "I can see that. You could have run back to the compound any time, or even went to one of the groups. You didn't do either. Why are you out on your own? Why aren't you with one of the groups, with your brothers?" Weeble shrugged. "I'm not sure. No one picked me." Mole didn't say anything right away. "And you didn't think to speak up?" "Thought about it, sure. But for what? To beg them to include me?" Weeble paused. "Nah, I'm done with other people tellin me whether I'm good enough or not. I can learn just as good listenin in, don't need no permission." "Well that explains the reason for Weeble." Mole said with finality. "So Weeble, you want to help me out? I'm going to need you to do a few things for me." Weeble took a breath. "If you teach me, I'll do anything you want." He said. Only after the words came out did he realize what that sounded like. Mole chuckled. "Hold that thought." And he moved his hand up behind Weeble's head. "Mole going dark." He said, then returned his arm to encircle Weeble's chest. "The mic's off now. You should be careful with your words, they could be misinterpreted." Mole continued. Weeble didn't answer, and he felt his heart speed up. "Did I misinterpret, Victor?" Mole asked in a more gentle voice. "No sir." Weeble said softly. "Well you're a surprise. Have you done this before? Field tail?" Mole asked. "No, not like this." Weeble answered. "But not your first time. That's good, no lines crossed then. Been a while since I had any field tail. How do you want it? You want front or back?" That threw Weeble. He had a choice? Mole would let him fuck him? And the way he asked so casually, like it was no big deal. And not a lot of talking or figuring things out. Was that normal? Mole made it seem normal. He just went right ahead and asked. "Front, already here, easier." Weeble answered, trying to sound just as casual. Mole chuckled again. "I won't lie, I was hoping you'd say that. Pull `em down." He said, then his arm was gone and went down between their bodies to undo his own trousers. Again, right to it. Mole was surprisingly gentle, even a little loving, as he slowly pushed his spit covered hard cock between Weeble's asscheeks. "You ain't gotta go easy on me." Weeble offered as the length slid into him gradual inch by thick inch. "Appreciate that, Weeble. It's more a matter of the room we don't have and keeping quiet and as still as possible." Mole answered. "Fuck, nice hole, soldier." He said as his thick, rigid length slid up inside Weeble's tight hole. "Good tail." Weeble merely groaned. He hadn't gotten nearly enough of Hunter's dick just a few days ago. Once they'd had their talk Weeble felt way more free getting what he wanted. And then, when Hunter left Monday to go back to Bragg, he told Weeble no one owned him and no one had the right to tell him what he could and couldn't do. They'd figure out what they had and what kind of relationship was possible as they went. As Mole's achingly slow, deep, full thrusts made his body tingle, he remembered Hunter's words. "We're going to be apart for who knows how long, bud. I know you better than you think I do just from what you told me and you're going to want to have sex with some of the guys you meet. And when that happens you'll get in over your head and feel guilty, and I don't want that. I don't want you feeling bad about yourself, ever. Not because of sex." Weeble had tried to assure him. "No, Hunter. I like you. I wouldn't want to." Hunter had smiled at him. "I told you Victor, fucking is fun. We're young, we're men, it's going to happen. What you and I have goes beyond just fucking. That part is okay to save for me. The rest? You get yourself whatever dick you need when you need it, bud. It helps keep that adorable smile on your face and I love that smile." Hunter was right. He didn't have no feelings for Mole, he just needed that dick to put his head back on straight. For some reason he felt more in control of himself when he let a guy fuck him. He had power over the guy fucking him and he knew what he was doing. Plus, it felt so good. Mole's hand was pulling on his hip, keeping him moving with his thrusts, and his breath was coming faster against Weeble's neck. "Fuck yeah, man." He said. Weeble was stroking his own dick slowly with his sticky pine sap layered fist, keeping rhythm with Mole's deep thrusts. Jesus, the man had a nice dick, stretching him out and filling him up. And so deep. He wished he could reach down and feel Mole's nuts. They were probably as huge as his cock. A perfect big-man sized set. He imagined a thick hairy bush covering all of it. "I'm close." Mole grunted. "Okay if I bust in you?" "Yeah, do it. I'm close too." Weeble answered with his own grunt. "Fuck yeah. Oh fuck... shit... take my nut, kid. Fuck." And the rest was just grunting while his cock seemed to stretch Weeble's hole even more with uncontrolled and violent smaller punches. Feeling Mole lose control while he shot his seed inside him sent Weeble over the edge and he whimpered as he emptied his own balls into the hideout. Mole's hand came off his hip and reached forward to wrap around Weeble's now spent cock, giving it a few lazy strokes that made Weeble twitch. Mole chuckled. "Glad you got off too, kid, I was gonna finish you off. Fuck, that was nice. Nothing like some field tail. Gets your head back on straight." He said. That made Weeble let out a small laugh. "I was thinkin the same thing. It just settles everythin down, don't it? Is this normal?" Moles arm went back up to Weeble's chest. "I needed that. I forgot you haven't done this. I'm guessing if you haven't, at least a couple of your brothers have. Field tail... " He paused. "It's not exactly normal, or usual, or all that frequent. On deployment, away from your wife or girlfriend, away from any regular pussy, you get tired of your hand, it's an excellent way to clear your head. Some guys would rather die than touch another man's dick, but most know there's a time and place. Seems like there's always at least one guy in the unit who'll suck, maybe one brother you get particularly close to and it just happens. After that first time, there doesn't seem to be a reason not to. And if word gets around the unit that one of the guys takes front.... Well most of the others are going to take him for a ride at least once. But, that's only in specific, close knit units, it happens very rarely in the general ranks. Very rarely. It's still illegal, and if you're caught you risk an Article 12 added on. If it's with a battle buddy. (Author's note, Article 134 now covers sexual conduct. And Article 125 dealt with sexual assaults, and used to have a provision against consensual sodomy as well.) So don't get caught. But more than all of that, sometimes... well sometimes you don't know if there's going to be a tomorrow. Do you want to go out without a little piece of joy to take with you?" Mole's hips were still thrusting in small movements while he spoke. "If your brother let's you fuck him, or you let him fuck you, that's the bond that's unbreakable." Weeble suddenly understood Wanker in a much deeper way than he had before. He said he was straight, and there was no reason not to believe him, he talked about girls all the time. And he didn't go around begging for the Bravo's dicks, or acting like he cared about it all, in fact he never mentioned it. Weeble had a hard time understanding how Wanker could let Puta, Footlong and Shark fuck him, then suck off Troll and more than a few of the others without it being any big deal. But Mole's explanation put it all into a new perspective for him. "You take front too?" Weeble asked with hesitation, loving the way Mole just took for granted Weeble's hole was his for the duration and he hadn't stopped sliding in and out. He'd never had a conversation while the guy had his dick in his ass. Before Hunter Wicomb, it was quick, quiet, and with a single purpose. And even Hunter pulled out and lay down before they talked. Another chuckle. "That surprise you? Once you get past the whole getting off with another guy thing, it's just another hole." "Yeah, I thought... I dunno...". Weeble thought about Wanker and that last week in Germany. It made sense. Mole sighed. "You can't think of it like it's some defining aspect of your character, or how much of a man you are. That's not what it's about. For me, I'm helping a brother out or sometimes... if I'm in a dark place taking a brutal pounding from someone I trust makes the worst of the voices and thoughts go silent. I put myself in my brother's hands, and that makes a lot of it alright. My brother is a safe place." Weeble wondered what he meant by the `dark place', but he understood the `safe place' part of that. Being under a bigger guy was one of the only `safe places' Weeble knew. That was when he knew he wouldn't be hurt, insulted, or made to feel small. "You need to go again?" Weeble asked after thinking about it for a minute, noticing that Mole's dick hadn't gone soft and he was still moving his hips. "I could. You don't mind?" Mole asked. "Nah, go ahead. Bust out another one." Weeble answered. "I'll make it quick. Damn, it would be nice to have you on the team. There's something about you, Victor..." Mole said as he picked up the pace again. "Well it's gonna take a little time to teach me. You can get it when you want it." Weeble said. "Sweet." And then there were no more words necessary as Mole focused on pumping into Weeble's ass for the next few minutes. "Awww shit, yeah...here it comes." Mole breathed just before he spasmed into Weeble, and Weeble loved feeling Mole's hot breath on his neck. Once again, he slowed but didn't pull out and just lay still with his cock inside. "Damn. So good. Thanks for taking my load, kid. You did me a solid, man. Can't call you brother, but know I would if you were one of us." He said against Weeble's neck. "I have to go live again, can't stay dark." Weeble understood and gave a small nod knowing Mole could feel the movement more than see the motion. Mole's hand moved up behind Weeble's head again for a brief second. "Mole is live." The man said, then paused for a minute before saying "Copy." He patted Weeble on the chest, then moved his hand to Weeble's hip to push against it, withdrawing his dick which seemed to take forever to snake its way out of Weeble's wet hole. How big was that thing? This was definitely Weeble's number three on his list of getting fucked. Hunter was first, of course. Then Brody, his big fantasy high school football player, even though Brody didn't actually LIKE Weeble that way, he was still nice and was gentle when he fucked him. And now Mole. If he knew what Mole actually looked like, he might move to number two. He was really nice, gentle, kind, even asked permission. Then after he wasn't embarrassed or awkward, just treated Weeble like he did before. Maybe number two was a tie, for now. Weeble pulled his trousers and underwear back up and redid his belt. "We have a mission, kid. You in?" Mole asked, back to business after getting himself sorted. "Yeah." Weeble answered. "Good. We haven't been able to recon the compound and you have a way in. We need to know what's in those buildings. Can you get us that intel? Can you get back out?" "I can do it." Weeble answered. It felt real good how Mole was acting all normal after what they just did, and still treated him like he was capable and competent. "I don't want you to take any chances. These guys don't fuck around. If you get caught somewhere you don't belong it won't matter who you are and they will make you disappear." Mole explained. "And we can't help you. There won't be a rescue. They can't know we are here. Do you understand, Victor?" "Yeah, I understand." It was a risk, but he wanted to do something. "They're ignoring me, prolly won't even care if I walk in." He explained. "That's why I asked, they've cut you loose. And look, it's not critical, don't think you have to take any risks. Get whatever info you can and get out." "Yes, sir." Weeble answered. ********************* Ulster McGregor watched Weeble scutter off into the woods, with a grin. `Good kid' he thought. Definitely a surprise. The sex wasn't planned, just a bonus. The kid seemed willing enough, and it wasn't like him to pass some junior meat by when it was ready and willing. He hadn't lied to the kid, you grabbed your opportunities when you could. Hell, Weeble actually reminded him a little of his own son, graduated now and off to Michigan State. He was small, like his wife, like Weeble. Good kid, but he was almost certain Jacob was gay. He still hadn't come out to them though. In his own time, Ulster would let him choose and not force it, Heather made that clear. He didn't care either way, although he might try to convince him to take a ride on the other side long enough to give him a grandchild. But, the test tube baby thing was always an option, now that the science was determined and safe. His son Jacob was all blustering jock and spent far too much time dating girls without sealing the deal. According to Jacob, he was still a virgin. Only one reason for that, when Ulster knew girls were literally throwing themselves at Jacob, stupidly desperate in that horrible teenage girl way when they had a date with a hot, sexy guy like Jacob. He could sense their painful hopes when Jacob introduced them, how they gushed at his son, their adorable schoolgirl giggles at Jacob just saying something normal. And he could see Jacob's complete obliviousness to their attentions. He wasn't being prejudiced, Jacob was a fox, in the vernacular of the kids these days. He had all Ulster's lean muscular frame, but tight and compact because of his mother's 5'7" height and far more filled out than his own taller bones, Jacob's dark brown hair grown long in the grunge style, matching his idols in the music scene. Jacob was beautifully muscled, rounded, thick, and his dark hair and eyes with full lips gave him a smoldering look. When he scowled, he didn't look angry, he looked sexually heated. It was unnerving. At times it took him by surprise how much he wanted to lay a kiss on his own son. When his wife and daughter were out on a girl's day, they had a boy's day walking around in nothing, or at most underwear. But Ulster made it a point to go naked as much as possible. That was the other clue, Jacob tried to hide it, but Ulster knew he stared at him. Little bit of a dad crush there and he'd be lying if that didn't make him feel good. Still, Ulster wouldn't behave different with his own son, make him feel bad for who he was, or hide his body just because his son liked to look. He wasn't going to make his son ashamed of feeling what made him happy. And Jake had to understand that his dad didn't care if he looked. Hell, Ulster didn't care if Jake jerked off thinking about him. He'd rather that than his son fantasizing about some drug addled loser. Jacob didn't know what happened when his father was deployed, or on a mission. If the day came Jacob wanted to come out to him, he'd let him know he understood, and he'd had experiences too, maybe not the details, but of course that would all be determined by the number of beers they'd had. If he felt comfortable enough he'd confide in his son that he'd had his own experiences with cock and ass. What he worried about the most, was the type of guy Jacob would eventually bring home. He wanted a solid, standup guy, with a good job and someone who would treat his son with love, with a strong moral compass and sense of duty. Of course, a military man was his first choice. But he'd let Jake choose, and deal with whoever he decided to love. It was why after Jake graduated and before he went to college, Ulster behaved like an idiot. If he came across military guys that he knew swung that way, or both ways, he made sure he invited them home for a couple beers, and made sure Jake hung out with them. He'd whisper to his wife in the kitchen, and she'd take their daughter to the bedroom to watch tv while the `guys' hung out. Oh, he knew the guys probably thought he was after them, and that's why they'd agreed. And they were always older than Jake, of course. But he thought it was his fatherly duty to get something going for his son. Yet, nothing happened. Still, it wasn't until Jake left for college that Heather sat him down and explained where he went wrong. The guys he were bringing home wanted him, not some 18 year old kid, that's why they agreed to come have a beer with him. He felt like an idiot. It also made him think he should have started things going, that maybe he could have been the one to bridge the gap. When Jake was still a junior in high school, his wife and he had talked about it. First - to come up with a game plan when they both recognized what they were seeing, then to plan their reaction when it all finally came out and Jake decided to tell them. He'd felt slightly insulted at first that Heather had tried to caution him about how he should react. "Hon, you think I'm going to be mad if he's gay?" He'd said in confusion. "U (he loved it when she called him `U'), you know how you are, all He-man tough guy combat dude. That's probably why he hasn't told us yet. You're scary, U." "Babe, c'mon. I'm a fuckin puppy dog. You have my balls in your purse for fuck's sake. I'm not that tough." He'd argued. She patted his cheek. "He doesn't know that, U. You're his hero. He doesn't want to disappoint you. He doesn't want you to love him any less." "I love my son! I don't care who he is!" Admittedly, he felt a slight panic when he thought his son might be afraid of him. He didn't want that. For him, Jake was that toddler reaching out to him, that five year old showing him a rock, that 10 year old who just made a base hit. He was everything he was trying to protect. "Then, show him more love than you would ordinarily. Show him it's okay to be himself. You don't have to be the tough guy, sports hero, macho big dick guy. Hell, touch the boy once in a while, hug him, sit closer than a foot away from him. He's still a little boy inside, and he loves his father. It's okay to kiss him. God U, he's hurting for it." God, Heather was so amazing. She was saying take a softer approach. Honestly, he thought the way to raise a son was to teach him by example of how to be tough, fight through, shake off life's stupid accidents, and all the unspoken dude rules that made men act the way they do, with bro-hugs, short handshakes, respectable distance, never letting a discussion get past a certain emotional level. He hadn't had the first clue about having a gay son, but if Jacob was gay he would damn sure know his dad wasn't going to stop being the dad he loved, and who loved him, no matter what. Jake had to understand his dad was his number one bro, no matter what. Before that talk, he let Jacob be his teenager self and withdraw to his room, mutter something unintelligible when he walked through the door after school heading straight to his room until dinner, his Walkman earphones on his ears, his sweatshirt hood over his head. After the talk, Heather would give him a direct look. So he'd walk up the stairs and knock on Jacob's door. "It's unlocked." Jacob would say. It would be easy to hear a resentful, sullen tone in the words, but Ulster took Heather's words to heart. "Just me, Jake." "Come in, Dad." Jake's tone always improved when it was him. Maybe Heather was right, maybe Jake was scared of him. Had he been that kind of dad? "Hey Jake, how's school?" He asked, feeling a little awkward. "Fine." Jake was standing on the other side of his twin bed, hands in pockets. His room was spotless and the bed was made, as expected in a military house, with a kid who knew the drill. He'd taken off his headphones, probably to pull his sweatshirt off that was now laying on the bed. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt that was two sizes too small and hugged his newly developed muscles, BELTON COUGARS printed across it. As a junior in high school he wasn't big, but what Ulster saw was an excellent foundation. He could see the shoulders widening, the chest deepening. His ass and legs were already thicker than a normal teenager's, which spoke to his his football training. "Practice went well?" "Yeah, coach says I can be varsity next year if I keep going. He says I have the muscle. I have the plays and the position down." Jake was looking at his bed. Wasn't looking at him at all. He didn't know how to do this shit. He knew what his son needed, and Heather confirmed it, but no one had any advice on how to bridge the awkward gap. He threw away all caution. "I'm proud of you, Jake." Was all he said. Jake darted a quick look at him, then looked down again. "I mean it son. You make me proud. You're growing into a good man, I can see it. I can see your effort." He saw his son's chest heave. "I try hard, dad." He said, softly. "I know, Jake. I know." Ulster said, walking across the bedroom. "Jake, you don't have to be like me, okay?" He said, facing his son from less than a foot away. "Whoever you are, that's who I want you to be, okay?" "Okay." Jake said, and his voice sounded so small. So painfully full of doubt. "Son. Look at me." He said, putting a hand on Jake's shoulder. Jake looked up into his eyes, and the tears he saw pooling there almost broke his heart. His sweet boy. "I love you Jake, and nothing will ever destroy that. Nothing." he tried to put more meaning into the words, but he didn't know if Jake understood. "I love you too, Dad." He looked up again. "I just want to make you proud of me." The part of his heart that hadn't broken before, cracked at those words. He knew what it meant, what it might mean. He grabbed Jacob, probably harder than he should have, but this boy meant the world to him, and the slightest thought that he was in doubt of his father's love and devotion almost unmannned him. He pulled him close, all the way, a full body embrace. He didn't shorten it, didn't let it go, just held it there, his son's face in his chest, their arms wrapped around each other, for the most intense, emotional, and soul-reaffirming embrace he'd ever felt. He wished... he pushed out with his soul, hoping that feeling enveloped his beautiful son, needing him to feel the depth of his love, wanting him to know he would die for him in any situation. On instinct, he lifted up, and he felt Jake pull his legs up and wrap around him, just like when he was a child. Jake was high enough now to crest his shoulder, and his son nestled his face into his neck, and it took him back to when Jake was so much younger. He was still his little man. His pride and joy. He needed this as much... maybe more than Jake. It restored him to his certainty that everything he endured was for these three people - his wife, his son, his daughter. His deployments, the incoming he took, the time away, the orders he had to follow that he didn't like... all for them. All for this kid in his arms. "I love you Jake." He whispered. "If you ever need this... this right here... I'm here. Always son." The tears were falling from his eyes as he felt the deepness of his son's hug, the desperate need for his love, and he tried to push every ounce that was in his heart out for his son to feel. ************************ It felt anticlimactic, just walking into the compound after being confronted briefly by one of the men. He made sure to circle around well away from Mole's position before approaching, keeping down and moving from cover to cover. "What are you doing here?" The guy asked, leaning against the first building, one foot up and smoking a cigarette. He looked kinda hot, with his mustache, hard jaw, big shoulders... and that bulge. Fuck... it was definitely angry... Weeble shook his head. `Stop thinkin about dick, fuck'. Instead, he said "I'm hungry." It was the truth, and he'd decided on that for the reason he came to the compound. "Oh, you're that little one. Where ya been, runt?" If the man meant to irritate Weeble, he was a few years too late with that insult. "Runnin around the woods where you left me." He answered. Sure, it had attitude, but NOPE, they weren't his superiors. "Just here to get some food, I'll be back outta your hair real quick like." "You look like you rolled around in shit and then fell down a mountain. What the hell have you been doing?" The man field stripped his cigarette butt after taking a final puff, tearing it apart, then kicked his heel in the dirt and threw the shredded pieces in the shallow hole before kicking the displaced dirt back over it and stomping down. "Come on, I'll take you to get some food. You're lucky, there's probably still some hot food left. Nancy usually leaves it for the late comers." The man explained, moving off toward one of the buildings. "You can shower and get out of that when you're done. Your gear and kit is stored." Weeble was creating a picture in his head, memorizing the layout. All the buildings were in the same brown and grey, cement block construction, most just a single story. He recognized a star pattern, with a three story building at the center. It had windows on all four sides. Lookout, or command center, he thought. He let his guide take him further in.