Popular Post Florida20 Posted December 26, 2018 Popular Post Share Posted December 26, 2018 So on a day away from family, friends, internet, and work, I had an impulse to write a story for the first time in years. I didn’t get out of my chair until I finished the eighth chapter. I’ve got a few more chapters to go I think, but I feel confident I’ll have the entire story posted (in pretty regular intervals) within the month. Fair warning, (1) it takes a couple chapters before the real growth starts and (2) it’s got some hetero content in it. I hope you all enjoy… CHAPTER 1 I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow and sighed as I resumed the email I’d been writing. Fans hummed throughout the room but only made the hot air feel the devil’s own breath. I reached down to my lapel and gave my blouse a shake. Fuck these uniforms, I thought for the hundredth time. What’s the use blending into the desert if you’re dead of heat exhaustion? I looked out the door to my office at my staff, each dutifully working at their respective cubicles, knowing they were equally miserable. “Whoever decided to install shitty AC units in the middle of a god damn desert country needs to be drug out into the street and shot,” Staff Sergeant Whitaker said as he dramatically wiped sweat from his muscular neck. That desert country was Kuwait and those shitty AC units were probably top-of-the-line twenty years ago when these buildings were originally constructed. I decided to let Whitaker’s outburst slide; lord knows he’d be guilty of another at some point that day. Not for the first time, I wondered at the strangeness of this group. Myself, a navy lieutenant, in charge of four air force and two army enlisted men of varying ranks; a regular kumbaya commercial showing how the US armed services could work together. Each of us were at varying (but mostly early) months of one year tours at a Kuwaiti Air base where the United States oversaw its assets in the entire Middle East. It was a large base, housing about five thousand NATO personnel, most of which were from the US. I had been pulled unceremoniously from my normal navy career path to “support” joint efforts…the navy’s diplomatic way of saying “we can play in the desert and kill terrorists too!” I chuckled. I didn’t see myself killing any terrorists today. I was more likely to get a papercut. What my staff and I were actually responsible for was all confiscated foreign assets from the decades of wars we’d fought in this region. This meant supervising a dozen warehouses filled with the tanks, trucks, and weapons confiscated from Iraqi, Syrian, or terrorist organizations. We intended to hold it until peace broke out or something…then we’d return it. In practice, I was the overlord of a pile of rusty shit that wasn’t going anywhere fast. I wiped another bead of sweat from my forehead. Fuck it, I thought before saying: “Okay everyone, feel free to de-blouse.” A collective “yaaaaayyyy” went through the room and my team immediately tore off the heavy camo-print over-shirts (aka blouse) that made up the standard military OCP uniform, leaving them in their mud brown undershirts. My eyes immediately and covertly darted to Staff Sergeant Whitaker. Goddam, I thought as he threw his blouse onto the floor as if it was a pile of shit. His undershirt, darkened by sweat, was plastered to a body made of bulging muscle. I could see the striations in his shoulders dance as he returned to typing on his computer. Dinner plate sized pecs stretched the shirt comically over visible blocks of abdominal muscles. Those globular shoulders, bulging like pumpkins under short sleeves screaming for mercy, sat above the most beautiful upper arms I had ever seen in my life. Full and swollen yet cut and hard. A single bulging vein laced down the front of each one, bunching up each time he bent his elbow. God, they were perfect. I couldn’t wait to build a set of those myself. An isolated US Air Base in the middle of a desert country left little to do, leaving its inhabitants with a small set of options: work, eat, sleep, workout, or fuck. And all five options were in ample and endless supply. I noticed it the day I landed, almost everyone walking around the base was exceptionally fit, men and women alike. In the month since, I still wasn’t bored noticing the tight and taught bodies working out in the gym or walking by when civilian attire was authorized. I’d already made some progress. Always obsessed with fitness, I landed here a pretty fit 180 pounds. At 5’11, that doesn’t make me huge but people who saw me knew I worked out. In the month since, I’d gained three pounds. Certainly not something to write home about but if I kept that up for the next eleven months I’d be heading home weighing a ripped 215 pounds. That was, not coincidentally, Whitaker’s height and weight. I took another look at the Staff Sergeant, who now had his hands clasped together and arms stretched above his head. His lats bulged like wings under those beautiful arms. Striated horseshoe triceps flared as he gave one last good stretch and lowered his arms. He turned his head. “Jesus fucking Christ, Lewis,” he said in his testosterone laden voice. “You got your head suck on a scarecrow?” My eyes darted over to the subject of Whitaker’s comment, Airmen Lewis, my newest and most junior staff member. The nineteen-year-old was on his first overseas deployment and showed up only two weeks ago. My guess is he was 5’7 and couldn’t weigh more than 135 pounds. His brown undershirt hung loosely on a shrunken body, his twiggy arms void of shape or definition. Until now, his diminutiveness had been hidden under the baggy and ungainly blouse we’d just removed. The OCPs wore like pillow sacks on everyone whether fit, fat, skinny, or what have you. Even Whitaker’s body didn’t look exceptional when wearing the uniform…if one ignored his impressive bull neck. “Cool it Whitaker,” I said sternly from over my computer screen. I meant it too. I can both appreciate the guy’s body and completely loath his personality…which I did. The Staff Sergeant was a bona fide bully, always making every effort to cross the line if there was one to cross. “But look at him, sir,” Whitaker said and gestured to the airman with his paw of a hand. “Dude,” he continued as he turned back to Lewis. “How the fuck did you make it through basic?” “Knock it off!” I said loud enough to make Whitaker involuntarily cringe. “Fucking beta,” I heard him whisper to Lewis. I saw Lewis’s face redden and was about to formally council his bully when a female voice chimed into the room. “Hey guys,” the voice said to the room as it made its way to my office. Air Force Captain Dasa White turned into my office and smiled when she saw me. “Hey there sailor,” she said. “Hey Dasa,” I said as blandly as I could to the hottest female this base had to offer. This was not my opinion, it was fact. Captain White was gorgeous and she knew it. Her blond hair was pulled back into a tight bun that only accentuated her wide smile. Her blue eyes sparkled at me. I tried to avoid looking down as she too had debloused and sported only the brown undershirt that somehow hugged her well developed and femininely muscular body in all the right spots. Did she have those tailored? She was within a year or two of my own twenty-eight years, our ranks being equivalent, so we usually called each other by our first names instead of the more formal rank. “You up on the high side?” she asked. “I am,” I responded and shifted my computer screen to the military’s SECRET level internet. She invited herself to my side of the desk, leaned over my left side, and took over my mouse and keyboard. Her toned shoulder brushed lightly against my face as her tan arms did their work. She smelled of faint and distant perfume. Her breast rubbed against my arm just once as she reached for the mouse. God, she knew was she was doing and she was good at it. But I didn’t push it any further. Over the last month I’d given her both subtle and not so subtle hints that I was incredibly interested in her but she’d kindly and just as subtly rebuffed every advance. I’d noticed during that time she was only truly interested in the really muscular guys. I don’t think even Whitaker was big enough. She tastefully flirted with everyone but he’d only seen her mean it when the guy was at least 6’3 and 230. And there were plenty of those types around here. “Look at this,” she said once done with my computer. I looked at the screen and the first thing I noticed was the grainy picture in the middle of the screen. It looked like a still from a shitty security camera but in it was a group of about one hundred men, all obviously Arabic by their faces, naked from the waist up and wearing military fatigues from the waist down. It was immediately apparent the men were huge. Grainy as it was, they were as broad and wide and vascular as any professional bodybuilder. An old Iraqi flag hung over their heads and some Arabic script was imprinted on the bottom of the photo. “Iraqi bodybuilders?” I asked innocently, trying to make light of a picture which definitely had my attention. “Bodybuilders?” she asked back with incredulity dripping from the word. “Look at the rifles they’re holding.” I was embarrassed to note I was so taken by these men’s bodies that I had missed that each of them held an AK-47 in front of them. Well… they looked like AKs but something wasn’t right about them. “Are those toy guns?” I asked without taking my eyes off the picture. It took a bit to put my finger on what was wrong but I finally noticed the guns were too small. “No Alex. They’re real,” she said, letting me put the puzzle pieces together myself. “But that would mean…” My mouth dropped. She nodded, her perfect smile broadening. “My guess is those guys are eight feet tall.” “No fucking way,” I said but the more I looked at the picture the more I had to believe it. It wasn’t just the guns. These men were lined up on bleachers that looked a little too small. The doorway cut in half by the edge of the picture looked too small. Everything looked to small next to these guys. “It has to be a fake,” I said finally. “Look at the file name,” she said. I minimized the picture and looked at the folder she had open. “Saddam’s Supermen,” I read aloud. My heart fluttered a bit. “But that’s just a bullshit rumor.” The rumor apparently originated during the Iraqi invasion of 2003. I was a middle schooler at the time of that invasion so wasn’t around to hear it at the beginning but the story still cropped up jokingly in small circles from time-to-time. Who knows now much the current rumor had changed from the original one. Regardless, the version I heard stated that Saddam Hussein was obsessed with turning his famed million-man army into super soldiers capable of taking over the entire region. The rumor also suggested that we’d invaded Iraq back then because these supermen were the ACTUAL weapons of mass destruction we were desperate to take off their hands. “I guess you could call these giants weapons of mass destruction,” I said aloud with a laugh. “Hell yes you could,” she said, her eyes glued to the screen. “It would take an entire magazine to take one of those beasts down.” I looked at the folder from which she pulled the photo. It and the slew of parent folders housing it gave no indication a photo of supermen was to be found. “How did you find this?” “By accident,” she said simply. “I get bored on the watch floor and like to surf the web so-to-speak. There’s probably millions of files scattered in the guts of our SIPR servers and as unorganized as those warehouses you’re responsible for. I’m probably the first to stumble across that picture since it was first dropped there.” “Are there any more?” She shook her head. “Believe me, I tried. There could be. Finding a specific photo here is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.” Her eyes were still locked on the photo and were hungry. She liked what she was looking at. “You think they’re still around?” she asked. “Doubtful,” I said, shrugging. “I think people would raise an eyebrow if guys like this found their way into Abu Ghraib.” “Hm,” she muttered, nodding before shaking herself. “Anyway,” she concluded. “Thought you’d be interested.” She gave me a knowing wink that confused me but I willed the confusion away. “I’m heading to the gym. Dinner at six?” “Yeah,” I said as she turned to leave. I saw the heads of my team all snap to their screens in comic unison as she walked by and headed to the door. Their heads then bent to get a final shot of her backside as she walked through the door and shut it behind her. I couldn’t blame them, she was the only one I knew who could make those thick baggy uniform pants look good. The door was barely shut before Whitaker clapped his hands together loudly. “Ooooh, sir,” he said, a broad smile cracking his square head. “You gonna fuck that tonight.” He moved his hand as if slapping an invisible ass. The rest of the room looked shocked at the outburst. Proper military decorum was more than a bit dulled in a forward base like this one but there were certain lines that one did not cross. Sexual references of an officer was one of them. I slapped my hand on the table loudly. “That’s it, Staff Sergeant,” I bellowed and spoke to the broader room. “I don’t know who has the midnight watches on the silos this weekend, but you can thank Whitaker for taking them off your hands.” Whitaker’s face dropped. “But sir.” “Both of them,” I said over his objections. I looked at the time on my computer. 4:30 pm. Close enough, I thought as I felt another bead of sweat drip down my back. “Ok everyone. Close up shop,” I said, ignoring Whitaker’s sputtering. “See you all on Monday, when the AC is hopefully working again.” The team rushed out as if on fire, readily escaping the hundred-degree heat. I yelled after Whitaker before he made his way out the door. “Your first watch starts in thirty minutes Whitaker. Be. On. Time!” He grunted as he walked out. I spied Lewis close behind him. “Wait one, Airman Lewis.” Lewis lowered his head as if struck, turned, and begrudgingly made his way into my office. “Shut the door,” I said as gently as I could. Lewis did so and sat across the desk from me. His face was youthful even for nineteen. Sandy blond hair was tightly cut to his head. His narrow face was pale (unusual for desert dwellers) and blemish free. Bright blue eyes stared at me with apprehension. “I’m going to address what Staff Sergeant said with the Master Sergeant.” Master Sergeant Reeves was my second in command and the senior enlisted leader of my staff. It was technically his job to quell personal issues like this but he was on a trip to Afghanistan until Monday. “Don’t bother, sir,” the Airman said. “Master Sergeant is on him every day and it hasn’t done much.” The boy shrugged. “Besides, he’s right. I’m skinny. I’ve tried to bulk up since I’ve gotten here but I think I’ve actually lost weight.” “Eat,” I advised. “I have a fast metabolism too but the food here is free and you can get as much as you want. You should leave every meal stuffed to the gills.” Lewis just nodded. His eyes flickering to my computer screen and his jaw dropped. “Wow,” he said at the monsters in the photograph. “You think that’s real?” he asked. I turned my eyes back to the picture. “Could be,” I said noncommittally before continuing. “I’m no superman in the gym, Lewis, but I can give you some pointers in that arena if you like.” Lewis shook his head, his eyes remaining on my computer screen. “Thank you, sir, but no. I can take care of myself.” “I’m sure you can,” I said, removing my access card from the computer, sending the screen dark. Lewis shook his head as if breaking out of a trance. I grabbed my blouse and began putting it on. “You coming?” I asked as I made my way to the door. Lewis followed but broke towards his own desk instead of following me out the room. “If you don’t mind, sir,” he said awkwardly. “I have some work I forgot to finish.” “Suit yourself,” I said and gave the room a once over to ensure no classified material was left out in the open. Finding none, I walked out. Looking over my shoulder upon leaving, I saw Lewis back on his own computer, the picture of Saddam’s Supermen sitting boldly in its center. 36 1 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
londonboy Posted December 26, 2018 Share Posted December 26, 2018 This is going to be good. Thank you. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted December 26, 2018 Share Posted December 26, 2018 Lewis is gonna find something andt hey all gonna become like those soldiers. I feel it 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
debate1 Posted December 26, 2018 Share Posted December 26, 2018 Keep it up! Great start! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
GrowingBigFL Posted December 26, 2018 Share Posted December 26, 2018 You’re a great writer! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ozymandias Posted December 26, 2018 Share Posted December 26, 2018 Great start, looking forward to seeing this develop! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bel0w6rade Posted December 26, 2018 Share Posted December 26, 2018 NOW it's been a Merry Christmas. Can't wait for more! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MegaMassiveMuscleMonster Posted December 27, 2018 Share Posted December 27, 2018 I love when scenes where she gets railed by a muscle beast 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
NerdJock Posted December 27, 2018 Share Posted December 27, 2018 Interesting start. Look forward to more. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JGMacroCreations Posted December 27, 2018 Share Posted December 27, 2018 You have peeked my interest that's for sure. I look forward to reading more of this. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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