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TEXAS 1956 Vol. 1 – Chapter 4
He didn't see Brick Gilroy until before lunch, when the gunny sergeant handed him a Sprite, this one filled with soda but laced with the "correction" formula that would take about 20 minutes to kick in. Brick then disappeared, and soon Ridgeton was feeling irritable, but he knew that he needed to be compliant when Brick returned. It was a familiar feeling, and sometimes it took an extra effort to submit.
A while later, the gunnery sergeant returned to the large mess hall, filled with tables and bench-style seating. By now, the room was nearly empty, and Brick sat down across from Ridgeton. With a smile, he handed him another Sprite, filled with his urine. Brick was joined almost immediately by the two enlisted Men from the day before, the ones Ridgeton had pretended not to see.
Holding beers in their left hands, they saluted, and Ridgeton returned them. They sat down on his bench, one on each side and a bit too close, as the captain drank the gunny's piss from the bottle. Irritated by the subtle sign of disrespect from the two enlisted Men, the captain remembered his obligation.
"Thanks for the Sprite, gunny," he said, feeling the bump press up against him. "This tastes good."
"You got it, captain," the gunnery sergeant replied, still smiling. "Always glad to get you just what you need."
The Men were in their 20s, the active duty Marine a staff sergeant and the reservist a sergeant. Like Gunny Brick, they wore closely tailored uniforms of the same color and style as Ridgeton's, but with modifications that marked them as brig guards. Their crisply pressed blue trousers, with a bright red stripe up the side, were "bloused" into mirror-shined black boots. They wore an extra duty belt made of white patent leather that held a sidearm on one side and a short billy club on the other. Their biceps strained against the sleeves of their heavily-starched tan shirts, which bore bright red armbands with "MP" in bright yellow. Their faces were hard, with sharp jawlines, especially the reserve sergeant's.
The staff sergeant had black hair cut close to the scalp all the way around and on top, while the reserve sergeant wore a brown flat-top. Their muscularity was outlined by their shirts, and their legs bulged against their trousers as they sat down. Ridgeton's eye was drawn to the crotch of the one with the sergeant's stripes, which bulged almost obscenely. The sergeant noticed Ridgeton's glance as he sat down, and he grinned slightly to let Ridgeton know that he'd been caught looking.
"Captain, you might recognize Sergeant Shane Jordan," the gunny said. "He's a reservist who works at Clinton Lumber Supply. Staff Sergeant Tom Jensen here is active-duty, in the sixth month of a three-year hitch. They're part of the brig. I guess that's obvious."
"Sergeant Jordan, I've seen you at the yard, but I can't say I've noticed you beyond that," the captain said to the Marine, wilting under the younger Man's hard, thousand-yard stare.
"I drive a fork lift, captain," he replied evenly, avoiding the word "sir," his tone and choice of words a further sign of disrespect that Ridgeton had become used to by now yet still found grating on this occasion. "Easy to miss if yer not lookin' for me."
After a few minutes of chit-chat, the gunny rose, and grabbed the captain's empty soda bottle. "I'm gonna get ya another Sprite, captain. I'm sure ya need it."
"Sure thing, gunny," Ridgeton answered, knowing the drill. "I'd appreciate that."
"You got it, captain!" Gunny Brick replied, with a mischievous grin and the hint of a wink. "Back in a flash."
By now the mess was empty except for their group. Alone with the enlisted Men, the captain searched for something to say to them. They remained silent and stared at the captain as they ate, only increasing his discomfort. Finally, Sergeant Jordan – Ridgeton's employee in civilian life – spoke.
"I always knew y'all was a faggot," he said, calmly.
"What?" the startled officer replied, glaring.
"Y'all heard me, captain," he said, arrogantly, curling his lip into a hostile grin. "Yer nothin' but a toy soldier and a queer faggot. And we ain't the only stiff-dick Men around here who know what ya are."
"Tell me, captain," said Jensen from side other side, his jaw set, his eyes glaring, his voice low and brutal, "does every officer here like to suck dick, or are you the only queer one we got?"
Ridgeton scowled, not knowing what to say. Jensen grinned and spoke across Ridgeton to the sergeant.
"I wonder what the captain likes better, Shane," he said. "Think he likes it squirtin' down his throat? Or maybe he'd rather get his ass screwed so deep he can feel somethin' good 'n hard bumpin' up against his tonsils. That about right, faggot captain?"
Ridgeton sat silent, glowering, until Sergeant Jordan interrupted his thoughts.
"Look at me, captain," he snapped. "Look me in the eye, queer faggot."
Involuntarily, Ridgeton obeyed the order, giving at Jordan a sullen, submissive glance before looking back down at the table.
"Sergeant Jordan told you to look him in the eye, faggot," Staff Sergeant Jensen said. "Now do it, and don't look away."
Ridgeton complied, and Jordan's stare became a smile at having compelled the officer's attention. It was clear who had just won the contest for control, with Ridgeton's humiliation multiplied by the reversal of their ranks.
"Now, that's better, faggot," Jensen said from the other side, his eyes bright. "I bet ya want me to squirt down yer throat while Sergeant Jordan nails yer tight little ass. Don't ya now? And I bet that sweet little mouth a-yers would look damn fine wrapped around a big stiff dick. Ain't that about right?"
The sergeant joined back in, chuckling derisively.
"This one stole a look at my dick just when we got here," Jordan said, his grin wicked and derisive. "Oh yeah, this one will do just what he's told. Maybe down at the plant too. I bet there's some Men who'd bend him over and nail his ass while he's suckin' dick."
The silence returned, and nothing more was said until the gunnery sergeant returned holding another beer for himself, while handing the captain another piss-filled Sprite bottle, this one containing the "management" formula designed to make him eager and compliant. The enlisted Men on his side of the table had spread out. Their legs now crowded his, their dominance complete.
"Here ya go, captain," Gunnery Sergeant Gilroy said brightly, with a smile and an overly familiar tone. "Hope yer thirsty!"
"I am, gunny," Ridgeton said, drinking the enlisted Man's warm piss from the bottle.
"Just what the captain needs," Brick said, casting a knowing glance at the junior enlisted Men, who smiled widely in return. It was suddenly clear to the captain that everyone at the table probably knew what he was drinking. "Tastes good, huh?"
"You bet, gunny," Ridgeton replied, quietly. "Thanks for the drink."
They chatted aimlessly for another 10 or 15 minutes while they ate, and then the enlisted Men rose to excuse themselves.
"Good to meet ya, captain!" Jordan said, smiling as he turned to leave. "I'm sure we'll see each other at the plant. I'll get ya a Sprite any ol' time!"
The captain sat staring at the table.
"Drink up, captain!" he heard Gunny Brick say.
He complied, and when he was finished he thanked the gunnery sergeant as they sat facing each other, now alone in the mess hall.
"Tastes real good, don't it?" Gilroy asked.
"Yes sir, it does."
"Say what I gave you tastes real good. Say it's what you deserve, and thank me. Look me in the eye and say it like ya mean it."
"Sir, what you gave me tastes real good," Ridgeton said, gazing upward into the Man's eyes. The new formula was kicking in, and he was eager for the gunny's approval. "It's what I deserve, sir. Thank you for giving it to me, sir."
"Now that a-boy!" the gunny sergeant said, his voice mocking. "Captain does what he's told, don't he?"
"Yes sir," Ridgeton replied to the smiling enlisted Man. "Anything you want, sir."
"Ya know where I'll be," Brick said, finishing his beer before rising to leave. "Ya sit here for 10 minutes, then come find me."
Storeroom B-3 was in the basement of a different building used for supplies that hadn't been touched for years. The captain knocked, entered the room, closed the door, and saluted crisply.
"Reporting as ordered, sir!" he said.
The gunnery sergeant rose from his chair. The captain struggled not to look at the Man, standing tall and wide in his crisp, tight uniform. Gunny Gilroy's biceps strained the fabric of his heavily starched tan shirt. The line joined the fly of the Man's blue pants, drawing Kenny's eyes to the bulge below.
"Yer gonna need to change the plug in yer harness," Brick said. "You know the drill."
"Yes sir!" Kenny replied, unbuckling his belt and lowering his pants. He disconnected the garters that kept his shirt tucked in by joining it to his socks, and then unhooked the tail from the bottom of the cock ring. The strap swung free, removing the bump's pressure from his rectum. It was a relief.
"Ya make sure to run the shaver all over this morning?" Brick asked.
"Yes sir!" the captain replied.
"Wasn't much to get rid of, was there?" he said.
"No sir," Ridgeton replied.
"Why would that be?" Gunny Brick asked, taunting.
"Because I'm not a Man, sir," he replied. "Hair is for Men, sir."
The captain assumed an "at ease" stance, his legs spread apart and his hands clasped behind his lower back. The gunnery sergeant grabbed the end of the tail. Using using a towel to grasp the bump and a screwdriver to turn the bolt, he disconnected the parts and let the bump fall to the floor.
"You'll need to pick that up and clean it off," he said, handing the towel to the captain.
"Yes sir," the captain replied, wiping the bump off and setting it aside.
"You know what to do now," the gunnery sergeant said, handing the captain a thick, black rubber plug about six inches long, with a receptacle on the bottom for the bolt, and a bottle of lubricant impregnated with more of the "management" formula.
"Yes sir," Ridgeton replied, slathering grease on the object, then on his own rectum. He then held the plug against the eyelet where the bump had been secured. The gunnery sergeant tightened the bolt, securing the plug to the inside of the tail.
"Put it up inside ya," the gunnery sergeant said.
"Yes sir," Ridgeton replied again. He worked it in, then wiped his hands on the towel when he was finished.
The gunnery sergeant reattached the tail to the bottom of the cock ring and yanked the strap tight, testing the harness by reaching under the captain's t-shirt and tugging the front and back vertical straps up and down. The plug moved back and forth against the captain's prostate, producing vibrations that reverberated from his ankles all the way up to his molars.
"Mmmm-hmmm," the gunnery sergeant said, as if inspecting a piece of machinery. "That good 'n tight fer the captain?"
"Yes sir," he replied, feeling blood flowing downward.
"I don't think so," Gunnery Sergeant Gilroy said. He tightened the belly strap some more, and then worked on other attachments, tightening the straps further to make the plug more sensitive to the captain's movements. The tugging and yanking had caused the captain to become erect.
"Now there ya go!" he said, his lip curled into a grin. "Kenny gets himself manhandled, and his little squirt gun gets all stiff 'cause a-what that Man's doin' to him. Queer little captain gonna thank the gunny?"
"Yes sir, thank you, sir!" he said, reveling in his humiliation. "That's even better, sir! Thank you, sir!"
"Okay, little captain, get yerself dressed, then," he said.
"Yes sir," Ridgeton replied, moving to comply. As he bent over to pull up his shorts and then to reattach the garters from his shirt to his socks, the harness moved the plug inside of him, just as it was designed to do. When he was finished, the gunnery sergeant pointed to a chair with legs that had been sawed off.
"Sit on down," he ordered.
The captain sat, his face level with the middle of the gunnery sergeant's fly. Gunny Brick unzipped himself, reached inside, and hauled his blood-gorged dick out. Without a word, he spit into his hand and lubricated his erection until fluid appeared at the tip. He rubbed it across the captain's upper lip, and around his mouth, then pressed against the captain's lips. He pried his way inside, and moved in and out, his smile showing the power and impunity of absolute authority.
"That a-boy. Ya take it, little captain," Brick said, setting his jaw and staring hard. "Queer little boy take a Man's stiff dick, any 'ol time a Man feels like it. Queer faggot captain sucks on the Big Man and thanks him fer the squirt. Queer faggot captain drinks the Big Man's piss and thanks him fer that too."
The gunnery sergeant stood tall, wide, and handsome, pumping steadily in and out, using his stiff tool to probe the captain's mouth. Gilroy used his pecker to outlandishly stretch one of the captain's cheeks, then the other, back and forth, chuckling as he worked. Then against the roof of Kenny's mouth, and the back of his throat, then pressing down against his tongue, stirring and repeating. He spit into his hand, and rubbed the saliva into the captain's crew cut.
"That a-boy. Queer faggot captain does what Big Man tell him he gonna do," he said as his tool rammed Kenny's mouth. "Queer little faggot captain suck 'n swallow just what he's told. Queer little faggot captain drink Big Man's piss outta a-soda bottle and says thank you. Queer little faggot captain begs fer the sergeants to screw him in his queer little mouth. That'll be about right. Ya suck on me good 'n tight, real good 'n tight!"
He eased back out of the captain's mouth, his blood-gorged erection hard as steel, dripping precum and coated with saliva. He smeared it over the captain's face, adding some of his own spit, and then putting it back in Kenny's throat for more of the captain's saliva, and coming back out and squeezing more precum onto the captain's head. Soon, Kenny's face was covered in a thin, slick, fragrant mixture of saliva and precum.
"That a-good little boy," the gunnery sergeant said as he did his work. "Man marks his territory. Queer little captain gonna wear my stink the rest of the day. Little captain's gonna have the gunny's stiff dick 'n squirt in his dreams. Gonna be suckin' and swallowin' and smellin' his gunny in his sleep, he will!"
Preparing for the final assault, the gunnery sergeant placed one of his booted feet on a box behind the chair and straddled the captain's upturned open mouth, giving the captain a view of his dick jutting out from his tight, creased uniform trousers. He re-entered the captain's throat and pumped, and Ridgeton felt Brick's precum streaming into his mouth, coating it and making it slick. He opened wide and relaxed his throat, and the Man grabbed his head and jammed his full length downward into his slicked-up throat.
"Oh yeah, little captain, that's right, good 'n tight for the Man," he said, breathing hard, pumping in and out to give the captain just enough time to gulp more air. "Good 'n tight. Good 'n good 'n good 'n goddamn tight. Queer little captain's tied up, plugged up 'n tightened up. That a-boy."
He felt the spasms start, and swallowed furiously, feeling thick liquid flow down the deepest part of his throat, all the way to his stomach, while the gunnery sergeant's balls were pressed against his chin through his uniform. Just when he thought he'd pass out for lack of air, the Man withdrew, his dick spurting more thick cum as he pulled out. It oozed out of his lips and down his chin, and he noticed that Gunny Brick had cupped his hand below to catch it.
The gunnery sergeant was all the way out now, breathing heavily while Ridgeton took deep breaths to restore his oxygen.
"Lick that outta my hand, queer little captain," he said, their eyes meeting again.
"Yes sir!" replied, the desire to obey the Man now fully kicked in. Ridgeton eagerly lapped up the cum, leaving a mixture of saliva and semen, which Brick smeared across his head.
"Thank you sir!" he said, out of breath.
The gunnery sergeant moved back, put his dick back inside, zipped up, and smoothed the front his his pants and shirt.
"Somethin' fell on Big Man's floor, captain," he said. "Why don't ya be a good little boy 'n lick that up?"
"Yes sir!" he replied, leaning down to do so, feeling the plug moving inside as he did so. "Thank you, sir!"
They were finished at last, and the captain stood up, his erection making a small, rigid tube against his trousers.
"Yer gonna want to keep yer clipboard over that little squirt gun a-yers," the gunnery sergeant said, moving toward the door. "Yer gonna be in yer office at 1800, and I'm gonna come get ya and take ya to the brig. And don't ya go to messin' with yerself, hear?"
"Yes sir, I understand, sir," he replied, stepping into the hallway with Gunny Brick, and looking upward at him.
"That's right, little fella," the gunnery sergeant said, smiling. "All that little squirt gun a-yers will ever do is get ya in trouble, so yer gonna keep it under control and yer hands away from it."
"Yes sir," the captain replied again. "Thank you sir!"
"Somethin' else, little fella," Gilroy said. "Yer gonna be drinkin' Sergeant Jordan's Sprites regular at the plant and doin' anything else he wants done. Ya hear?"
"Yes sir!" Ridgeton answered. "Thank you sir!"