FOXHOLE

This is my first post!  Will start posting some stories now.

"FOXHOLE" by Nick D. Stark

Part I

NICK'S STORY:

The foxhole was only about four feet deep, but it was enough to
hide the two men from search efforts by the enemy watch towers.
Only a foot patrol who happened to stumble upon it would find
Nick Stark and Shawn Evans, US Marines, hiding in the shallow
depression. Nick and Shawn were not just fellow Marines, they
were brothers as well. Nick was four years older, and Shawn had
followed his big brother into the Corps. Nick, ever watchful and
protective of Shawn, had concerns about taking Shawn along on
such a dangerous mission. The two men traveled at night, and just
prior to dawn would dig a foxhole to sleep intermittently during
the day, ever on the alert for wandering patrols that might
discover them.

Their mission was to reconnoiter and if possible infiltrate a
rebel camp deep in the jungles of Central America. They had spy
cameras and enough ammunition and weapons to protect themselves,
but not to wage an all out attack. Nick was a veteran of such
sneak in and survey missions, and he was training Shawn in the
finer points of moving stealthily through enemy territory.

Nick lay awake, with Shawn's exhausted body held loosely in his
strong embrace. It was late afternoon, they had a couple hours
before it was time to move again. Nick looked down fondly on the
recumbent figure of his adored little brother. He loved watching
Shawn sleep, the slow rise and fall of his chest, Shawn's head
buried safely in the crook of Nick's big bare arm. Both Marines
wore camouflage pants, boots, and olive drab rib knit tank tops,
tight against their hard torsos. It was too hot for anything
else. Shawn's exposed flesh was tan and smooth, where dark hair
swirled out of the neck and side openings of Nick's tank, solid
over his pecs and up to his neck.

It brought back memories of childhood to Nick, who as a teenager
had nightly crept into Shawn's room to join his little brother in
bed. Nick would pull Shawn to him, position him how he wanted,
typically with Shawn's back to his chest and Nick's big arms
encircling his younger brother. When Nick had sprouted chest hair
on his hard pecs, Shawn loved pushing himself back against his
brother's body. "Pull me tighter, Nick," he had said, sighing
contentedly as he fell back asleep. Nick had responded by placing
his big hand on Shawn's firm belly, spreading his fingers out,
and pulling Shawn to him. As if in response to the memory, Nick
in the foxhole reached down and gently but firmly placed his hand
on Shawn's rock hard gut. Not an ounce of fat there, Nick thought
proudly, and started rubbing in a soft, circular motion. Shawn
stirred slightly in his sleep, nestling back into Nick.

Shawn looked so innocent asleep; and yet the bulging muscles of
Shawn's body painted a different picture, one of a built fighting
machine. Nick was so proud of possessive of Shawn's body. Nick
had spent long hours coaching Shawn in the gym, and Shawn had
responded like a star pupil, glowing and growing under the
attentions of his hunk big brother.

Nick was looking down at Shawn, remembering fondly last night's
passionate lovemaking. Nick had performed oral sex on Shawn,
swallowing his dick down to the base, and also swallowing Shawn's
hot load as Shawn had gripped Nick's marine buzz tightly in his
hands. In return, Shawn had willingly laid face down and dropped
his camouflage pants and skivvies so that Nick could shove his
huge throbbing cock up Shawn's tight ass. I hadn't taken more
than a dozen thrusts before Nick dumped his pent up load into
Shawn. Both brothers had to be careful not to call out or make
any noise, because they knew the danger of enemy patrols was
always present.

As a smile came to Nick's face, remembering the hot session, he
heard a footstep in the undergrowth nearby. He instantly tensed
up and covered Shawn's mouth with his hand. Shawn was instantly
awake, his wide open eyes searching Nick's troubled expression.
Shawn knew enough to remain silent, so Nick released him and he
sat up. Presently the sound of machetes hacking through the dense
jungle came to their ears. "Shit," said Nick, "it's a full blown
patrol. They must know someone is trying to get into the base."
Shawn nodded in agreement. "Here's what we do," said Nick
confidently. "I'm gonna head out the way we came, as if I've
heard them and am retreating. After I get out, I'll cover the
foxhole with some foliage, with you still in it. You wait until
nightfall, then move in and take the snaps of the rebel base
first thing at dawn tomorrow. After that, radio me and I'll let
you know my position. We can hook up and get back to base the
same way we came in, moving under cover of night. I'll be in
touch with you, if I can. You know what to do. Use your
training."

Shawn nodded in agreement. He had long since given up trying to
argue with Nick, Nick knew best plus he was quoting exactly what
the training manual said to do in such situations. Plus he knew
that Nick was giving him the opportunity of being the hero, he
would be the one to get the photos of the rebel base, while Nick
created a diversion, letting the enemy patrol follow him in the
opposite direction. Nick got up into a crouching position and
stuck his head over the edge of the hole. "They're pretty close.
I'm going for it." Nick roughly grabbed the front of Shawn's
shirt, hauled Shawn's face up as he bent his own down, and gave
Shawn a quick, bristly kiss on the lips, Nick's three day growth
of beard roughly scratching Shawn's face. Shawn didn't even
notice, he was fighting back anxiety and even tears as his big
brother jumped out of the foxhole without looking back. Soon
piles of loosely tossed leaves and branches covered the foxhole.
Shawn heard Nick's big footsteps as they tromped off quickly,
cutting a diagonal course across the path of the approaching
patrol to lead them away from the foxhole.

Shawn had every confidence that Nick's plan would work; shit, he
thought, the big lug has gotten himself out of situations more
dangerous than this, and returned home just fine. Still, a
nagging doubt was in the back of Shawn's mind.

Nick jogged, somewhat noisily, through the leafy growth of
jungle. He could hear the patrol plainly, and he was hoping they
heard him. He didn't want them to be suspicious that he was
diverting them away from anything. He slowed his pace and tried
to get a glimpse of them. He could see bodies moving in a single
file about 20 yards away. They had just halted and were
discussing something; probably a noise they had heard, which was
just what Nick wanted. He started off again, making a bit more
noise than before. Soon he was rewarded with the noise of the
patrol changing direction to come after him. Not long after, the
excited shouts of the patrol's scout warned Nick that he had been
spotted. Shit, Nick thought, I wanted to lead them away from
Shawn, not get myself captured, so he picked up his pace, his
strong legs and ass muscles pouring on the speed.

But Nick hadn't a clue who he was dealing with. Yes, the rebels
knew that a US Marine was trying to infiltrate their camp. They
had a mole planted in the Corps who warned them that a top notch
veteran would be coming their way, and to do everything in their
power to take him prisoner. Not only would Captain Nick Stark be
a great moral victory, displayed in chains on worldwide
television, but he could be a powerful bargaining chip in
negotiations for the US to halt their covert operations. And
finally, and most secret of all, was the rebels' intention to
extract top secret information from Captain Stark using whatever
means worked. To this end, they had brought in top Russian
interrogators, versed in both physical and mental methods, as
well as a doctor equipped with a full range of mind altering
illegal substances. All of this was totally against the Geneva
Convention, but an opportunity like this could not be passed up.

Because the rebels knew what they were up against, they had sent
additional patrols to circle behind their prey. Nick was running
full speed into a trap. But Nick wasn't a veteran of many such
missions for nothing; he anticipated this and had his ears
pricked and his eyes peeled for any indication of impediments. He
didn't hear or see anything. It was almost too suspicious. He
decided to halt, hide, and wait it out. They had sent out a large
patrol which was unusual in itself, so he suspected that his
presence and identity were known to the rebels. He quickly
clambered up into a tree and hid in the foliage. Sure enough,
soon the patrol to his rear came by and he saw them pass. As they
tromped by, hot on what they thought was Nick's trail, a distant
WHUMP! came to Nick's ears. It sounded like light artillery
testing. Damn, thought Nick, too bad Shawn wasn't already in
position to capture that on film. He idly hoped that they would
continue such tests tomorrow. The more incriminating stuff Shawn
captured on film, the better. And it wouldn't hurt for Shawn to
get some good recognition too.

Only a few minutes after the last of the patrol walked by, a lone
figure passed below Nick. Thin, wiry with corded muscle, and
dressed all in black, the man moved slowly and stealthily. He
turned to and fro constantly, looking and listening. He was
looking for something, and Nick had a pretty good idea what it
was. Nick's gut tightened reflexively, his shoulders and biceps
flexing. The man had dark slicked back hair; he obviously wasn't
Central American. Nick wasn't a veteran for nothing; this guy had
`hired gun' written all over him. Shit, Nick thought, gotta be
careful of that one. The dark man passed slowly out of Nick's
view.

Soon Nick heard the sound of the patrol catching up to the patrol
that had been sent out ahead, and his original suspicions were
confirmed. They had sent out two patrols, plus the hired gun; but
Nick had outsmarted them. Now the problem was that he had told
Shawn he was going to head back the way the brothers had come.
With that route cut off, Nick thought he should return to the
foxhole, and he could help Shawn sneak up to the camp. Plus there
might be time for another session of mansex. This made Nick's
cock grow to full erection, trapped painfully in his tight pants.
So Nick thudded to the ground to quietly sneak back to today's
foxhole and regroup with Shawn. Quick silent steps returned Nick
to the foxhole, only to see the foliage he had placed there
roughly tossed aside. Nick went cold with terror. Had they found
Shawn? Had Shawn disobeyed orders and come after him? Or maybe
Shawn had taken the initiative to find different cover, or even
headed to the base right away to try and complete the mission.
Nick quietly turned in a circle searching for clues as to which
way Shawn might have gone.

As he did so, he caught a glimpse of black clothing. Shit! It was
the hired gun, and he had spotted Nick. Nick turned and started
at a dead run toward the rebel base, figuring Shawn had gone
ahead to snap some pics while daylight remained. Nick figured he
would use his considerable skills to lure the hired gun after
him, then turn and fight and put a bullet through his head when
the time was right. Then he would radio for Shawn's location.

But it was not to be. After only about 100 yards, Nick entered a
small clearing. As he did so, he saw and heard the greenery
surrounding the clearing seem to come alive. Rebel soldiers,
probably twenty of them, were hiding everywhere. They entered the
clearing, trying to cut off Nick's escape path. Nick screamed in
frustration and tried to plow his way through. At this close
range he knew they wouldn't fire for fear of hitting in each
other, plus he had a sinking feeling that they wanted him alive.
He plowed into two soldiers, trying to knock them down and get
past them. One was flung to the side by Nick's incredible
strength, but the other hung tenaciously on, his arms around
Nick's waist. Before Nick could extricate himself, two more were
on him, trying to drag him to the ground. Nick swung out wildly,
hitting one in the face, and gut punching the other. But as soon
as one or two were knocked aside, more replaced them. It was a
losing battle. Soon Nick was brought down, the proud Marine
pinned on the ground, still struggling.

They tried to grab his big arms and slip ropes around them, but
Nick's great strength prevented that. It was almost a stalemate;
they held him, but couldn't get him in any position to restrain
him. Soon the hired gun walked up, and entered Nick's field of
vision. He silently appraised Nick, who stopped his struggles but
didn't relax his muscles. The hired gun reached into his back
pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Without a word he
tossed them onto Nick's hard belly. "You will put those on," he
commanded. Nick narrowed his eyes, but didn't move to cuff
himself. The hired gun pulled out his rifle, cocked it, and knelt
down between Nick's legs. He shoved the barrel of it roughly into
Nick's balls. "DO IT!" he commanded. Nick knew they wanted him
alive. He knew equally well that he would survive even if they
shot his balls off. So Nick relaxed his arms, and the rebels let
go of them, but remained wary of the big Marine stud. Nick
sighed, picked up the cuffs, and one by one clicked them onto his
thick wrists, in front of his body. "Get him up," ordered the
hired gun. Nick was hauled to his feet by two of the larger
rebels holding onto Nick's huge biceps and lifting him. As they
were doing so, Nick quickly, deftly swung up his cuffed wrists
and cold cocked one of the two men holding him. A roundhouse kick
took out the other, and Nick took one step toward the jungle,
intending to make a run for it. A thousand stars exploded in his
head as the hired gun swung his rifle butt up and struck Nick
viciously on the base of the skull. The rifle butt came away with
blood on it, and Nick crumpled unceremoniously to the ground,
deadly still.

At a nod from the hired gun, the rebels bound Nick's ankles with
rope, and brought a long stout pole from the jungle. Since Nick
would not be able to walk under his own power, they would have to
carry him. The pole was thrust between the bound Marine's wrists
and ankles, and 225 pounds of dead weight lifted and carried off.
Nick's handsome head bounced, no muscle control holding it up. He
was out cold. The hired gun was an expert at subduing big men,
and knew the places that quickly took them down. After a quarter
mile journey, Nick was brought into the center of the camp and
set down. His ankles were untied, and his camouflage pants and
boots stripped off him. They sat him up, still unconscious, took
off the cuffs, stripped him to the waist, and recuffed his big
arms behind him. Then extra chains were brought, lots of them,
far more than was necessary to keep the hunk marine in bondage.
Chains circled Nick's tight waist, then another set went up his
back, securing his wrists further, then over his shoulders and
down his pecs. These were joined with a loop of chains around
Nick's chest, snug up under his pecs. Finally, his ankles were
chained and shackled. The big stud marine, nearly naked and in
chains, was manhandled to a standing position and bound to an
upright pole in the center of the camp.

A cold bucket of water dashed into his face brought Nick to his
senses. He shook his head, water splattering. He was blinded by
the lights of a television camera, broadcasting the image of the
bound, muscular hairy chested US Marine around the world. Nick
tensed up to test his bonds, but he looked down his body and knew
that there was no escaping. Nick groaned from the pain in his
head as much as from the frustration of having been captured. He
wondered dully why they left his skivvies on him, but he knew the
answer. The major networks would not broadcast a naked adult
male, with penis and testicles exposed, but with his cock and
balls covered, his humiliating capture could be safely shown
around the globe. Nick hung his head in shame, both at his
capture and his near nakedness. But what was most in his mind was
that which was most precious to him: SHAWN! Oh God, if only Nick
knew where his little brother was. He would give anything to know
that had gotten away, was all right.

SHAWN'S STORY:

Nick had only been gone several minutes. Damn him, I know he's
trying to protect me, but now I get to worry about him! Shawn was
always a loner; he thought he knew better than stupid Marine
regulations. He wanted to be a hero, and hated the idea of
waiting until nightfall to move in, and then wait until dawn to
take his surveillance photos. He figured there were a couple
hours left of daylight, plus with a large patrol out searching
for him and Nick, the base would be less heavily guarded than
usual. Shawn thought he would test the waters by carefully
peeking his head out of the foxhole, just a bit, to look and
listen to see if the coast was clear.

Alberto Cassini was indeed a hired gun, brought in the Central
American rebels to help them neutralize the interference that the
United States was throwing in their path. The mole placed in the
Marine base had let him know that Captain Nick Stark had been
sent in, but a sixth sense told Alberto that their was more to it
than that. Alberto had studied Nick's file, and studied it for
any signs of possible weakness. It was his job to bring down big
men, and knowing your enemy was one key. And so it was that he
recognized Nick on sight as he left the foxhole, and covered it
with foliage. Alberto was safely hidden a few yards away. Alberto
usually worked alone, but this time he had two assistants, hand
picked for their size and strength. They would be needed to help
escort captive Marines back to base after Alberto took them down,
either conscious or unconscious. Those louts made enough noise to
raise the dead, so he had them waiting twenty yards back while he
spied on Nick. Why was Nick covering his hiding place with
greenery? To cover his tracks? Alberto thought not. He lay very
still as he watched the hugely built stud Marine lope off into
the jungle. He knew he could catch up with him, and that two
patrols were on the lookout as well. Alberto bided his time,
keeping his eyes glued to the foxhole. He had a suspicion.

Alberto was rewarded a few minutes later as a dark, handsome face
peered out of the foxhole, obviously scanning the surrounding
undergrowth. It only barely registered in Alberto's mind that the
handsome figure bore a strong resemblance to Captain Stark as he
gently lobbed the concussion grenade into the foxhole with deadly
precision. BOOM! A dull thud rung out as Alberto left his place
of hiding and sauntered over to what was left of the foxhole,
hailing his henchman to join him. As the smoke cleared, he made
out the inert form of a second Marine, face down on the leafy
ground, torso and arms splayed out on the surface of the ground.
Obviously the Marine had just started to leave the foxhole when
the grenade rendered him unconscious. His fine ass was perched on
the edge of the hole. Alberto grabbed his arm roughly and rolled
him over, face up. The darkly handsome figure of what was
obviously Nick Stark's younger brother greeted Alberto. He was
dazed from the explosion. Alberto checked for a pulse. Yes, he
was alive. All the better. The hired gun took ahold of Shawn's
tank top and wrenched it apart, ripping it down the middle.
Shawn's finely scupted pecs and soft nipples were exposed.
Alberto gazed lustily at the beautiful body on the young Marine
as he lifted Shawn's dog tags. `Evans,' he thought; `Stark's half
brother, then.' He vaguely remembered something about a sibling
in Nick's file, as he rubbed his hand greedily over Shawn's upper
body, cupping the pecs. Getting his mind back on the job, and
wanting to restrain Shawn's inert form before he regained
consciousness, Alberto hollered for his two henchmen. They
dragged Shawn fully out of the foxhole, removed the remains of
his tank top, and pulled his muscled arms together. One of them
bound Shawn's wrists with rope while the other placed his booted
legs together and similarly secured his ankles. Alberto nodded to
the stronger of the two men, who lifted Shawn's dead weight with
a grunt, draping him over his shoulder. Shawn's bare waist
disappeared into his olive web belt and camouflage pants, his
firm ass hanging over the henchman's back. Alberto reached up and
cupped Shawn's butt, thinking of the fun he would have later. He
looked at the two hired thugs, and told them, "Hands off" while
still holding his hand on Shawn's ass. They got the message; the
fine body of the US Marine was for Alberto only. Alberto sent
them on their way, with the unconscious Shawn slung over the
shoulder of the larger of the two henchmen, then went in pursuit

of his original quarry, Nick Stark himself.

"FOXHOLE" by Nick D. Stark

Part II


The rebel camp bristled with activity. Diego, the Rebel leader,
wanted the cameras to pick up the bustling, efficient camp in the
background, so that the government would know they were not
dealing with a bunch of undernourished, untrained boys. His men
all wore the uniform of the Revolutionary Army, drab green in
order to move through the thick jungle unseen. The camp itself
was a double row of Quonset huts, one of which Diego used as his
Headquarters and also personal quarters. This building had the
rebel flag flying on a wooden pole in front of it. Located right
next door was a heavily guarded Quonset hut, with iron bars on
the blacked out windows. The only evidence of the building's use
was the occasional scream, or the fact that men entered on their
two feet, and left on a stretcher or in a body bag. Inside were
four prison cells with floor to ceiling bars, several stout
chairs, upright floor-to-ceiling posts, and a variety of
implements of torture.

All this was in the background as Nick Stark, Captain, US
Marines, was brought back to consciousness by a bucket of cold
water dashed in his face. As the TV camera lights blazed,
blinding Nick, he twisted his head away in shame. The built
Marine's nearly naked body was heavily bound with chains, snug up
under his firm hairy pecs, and around to his back where his thick
wrists were painfully lashed. Further chains shackled Nick's
ankles, his burly hair-covered thighs fully exposed. Nick wore
only his military issue skivvies, his heavy balls showing a
prominent bulge. The waistband of the worn olive drab briefs
slung low on Nick's hips, a wide expanse of the Marine's rock
hard belly exposed below the navel, the hair growing thicker and
thicker as it disappeared into Nick's crotch. Even though his
head throbbed with a dull ache, the result of his being clubbed
into unconsciousness, Nick knew enough to be ashamed; not due to
any sense of modesty, since his years in the Corps had wiped away
any shyness about male nudity, but rather at his capture. Nick
was a veteran of many combat missions, and had one of the highest
success rates among the solo operatives. He had had many scrapes
and close calls over the years, but had never fallen into enemy
hands. Nick had earned the right to work alone, and often a
single man had the best success rate, when sensitive missions
were called for. It had been Nick's choice to bring along on this
mission his younger half brother Shawn.



SHAWN! Oh god. Nick hung head at the sense of helplessness. Shawn
was out there alone, but Nick knew he had the good sense to
follow orders, and if Shawn followed procedures there would be no
problems. Nick knew that Shawn would sneak into camp tonight and
take a quick series of infrared photos of the Rebel camp, to
verify troop strength and weaponry. Satisfied that Shawn must
certainly be out of danger, Nick started to get mad. The TV
camera was still broadcasting the image of the captured hunk
Marine via satellite feed to all the major networks across
Central America and the US. Diego, his handsome face and strong
body in a clean General's uniform, was standing in front of Nick,
reading a prepared statement to the cameras. Diego was very
charismatic; it was easy to see how he had built up a force
around him, his lieutenants hand picked based on their loyalty to
Diego himself, even before the Rebel cause. Nick knew enough
Spanish to know that Diego was stating the mission of the Rebel
army, demanding the overthrow of the government, and reading off
a list of demands. Nick was clearly visible only a couple yards
behind Diego, and as he finished up his prepared speech, he
switched to English. "If our demands are not met, we will torture
and execute the US Marine who violated our sovereign domain." He
gestured toward Nick, then walked over to where Nick was bound
with his broad back to a stout pole. The Rebel General boldly
grabbed Nick's arm, and twisted the bicep to face the camera.
Nick's heavy pecs tensed, and he tried to twist his torso away,
but not before Diego showed the world Nick's USMC tattoo on his
pumped, flexing bicep. Diego released Nick's arm, then grabbed up
Nick's dogtags as they jangled on Nick's thick furred torso. He
began to read "Nick Stark, Captain, USMC, serial number." and as
he did so Nick started to thrash back and forth, in a vain
attempt to break free. He knew the struggle was irrational, and
that there was no way to break the chains. Indeed, they had used
far more chain than was necessary, obviously for effect. Diego
continued, ". is now a prisoner of war of the Revolutionary
Army." At hearing the words, "prisoner of war," Nick started to
go nuts, twisting and thrashing violently, cursing and insulting
his captors. Diego, still holding Nick's dogtags, stepped back a
pace. But not out of fear. Nick never saw it coming, but Diego
pulled back his arm, and drove a vicious right hook into Nick's
jaw. The SMACK was audible to the viewers back in the States, and
Nick's lights went out instantly. The handsome head sagged on his
chest, his unshaven jaw resting on the hair pattern on his upper
pec. Diego gave a vicious jerk, and yanked the dogtags from his
thick neck. He was no longer a Marine, he was now just a
prisoner. Diego smiled slowly; he couldn't have scripted it
better if he had tried. The stupid jarhead Marine had done
exactly as Diego thought he would.

The broadcast was over, the camera shut down and the lights were
turned off. Diego grabbed Nick's Marine buzz, and lifted his
unconscious head. No reaction. He let go and again Nick's head
slumped. Beckoning to two of his lieutenants, Diego said "Take
him to the brig, strip him, and lock him in one of the cells. His
ass is yours, I want the pig raped." Diego's lieutenants were
already unlocking the chains that held Nick to the pole, grinning
lasciviously. There we no women in camp, and sex between the
soldiers was forbidden, at least technically. Getting a shot at
the Marine's tight ass would relieve some of their pent up
appetites. "But General, don't you want to pop his cherry? We
would be happy to have your semen lubricate the prisoner's ass
for us to fuck him." Diego grinned knowingly but shook his head.
"No. He's not worth the effort. My needs will be taken care of, I
assure you." With that, the men laid Nick on the ground, still
chained and out cold. A quick slit up the side of Nick's briefs
with a razor sharp knife, a quick yank of the fabric, and Nick
was stripped naked. His immense cock and balls lay dormant in a
thick patch of dark hair. The lieutenants were visibly impressed,
and they were both very hung men. They stood, and used their
boots to flip Nick over face down. His firm muscled ass was
exposed now, his huge arms bound high on his back, attached by
more chains to his neck. A light dusting of hair rode up Nick's
asscrack, getting slightly thicker as it disappeared into his
virgin ass. Each man bent down and grabbed under one of Nick's
armpits, and they began to drag him to the heavily guarded
Quonset. The prisoner's head hung limp as they dragged him
unceremoniously toward his fate. Diego's eyes were glued to
Nick's thick muscled back and buttocks, as his men dragged the
naked Marine away.

Diego started to walk back to his headquarters building, when he
caught sight of Cassini, who was casually leaning against one of
the Quonset huts, smoking a cigarette. "Quite a show, Diego. You
know they'll never give in to your demands," Cassini said with
the smugness of a mercenary who had no interest in his employer's
cause. Diego gave the paid gun a tight lipped smile. "It doesn't
matter, I win either way. If they do as I say, the Revolution is
well served. If they do not, I will thoroughly enjoy breaking the
prisoner. And there is the added benefit of his younger brother."
Cassini locked eyes with Diego. "He's yours, once I'm paid. I
delivered both Marines, as contracted." The whole world knew that
Diego held Nick Stark prisoner, but only a handful knew that his
younger half brother Shawn Evans was also a captive in the rebel
camp. Cassini continued, "I had the men put Evans in your
personal quarters. He's been injected to keep him out for a
while. He's naked, handcuffed and shackled." Diego's eyebrows
raised slowly. "Naked? You'd better not have touched him, that
was the deal." Cassini tossed his cigarette butt away, and
snorted disdainfully. "Me? Of course not, I have no interest,
although he is a fine specimen. I saw how your men were looking
at him when I brought him in, and knew I had to take precautions.
He's got a belt tight around his waist, with another keeping a
plug firm in his ass. I knew your men wouldn't dare remove it.
Don't worry, it's a small plug, he won't be stretched out. In
fact I had a hard time getting it in; he's tight. He even moaned
a bit as I inserted in, despite being drugged." Diego nodded his
approval. "Very good. See my lieutenant Enrique, he has your
payment." Cassini nodded, he knew Enrique and knew where to find
him. Without another word, Cassini turned and walked away. Thus,
Diego couldn't see the shit eating grin on Cassini's face.
Cassini had a secret; he had a very small cock, and had indeed
raped the unconscious Shawn, knowing full well it would never be
detected. A load of semen deposited up the smooth, muscled
Marine's ass was the ultimate betrayal. The plug was a ruse to
throw Diego off, and it worked like a charm.

Diego turned and headed toward the center of camp. He had plenty
of time to toy with Shawn while his men were having their way
with Nick. When he was sated, he would see to Nick's torture. He
had big plans for the big Marine, in fact he was the key to Diego
getting that which he truly wanted most.



"FOXHOLE" by Nick D. Stark

Part III


Shawn thought me must be dreaming. He still heard a ringing in
his ears. This was from the concussion grenade that rendered him
unconscious, but he thought it was part of his dream. He wasn't
sure whether to be aroused or scared by the dream. or possibly
both. As much as he tugged on his arms, he couldn't free them;
that made him scared. But at the same time, busy insistent hands
slowly stripped him of all his clothing, tantalizing his nerve
endings and causing him to achieve erection. Then he was rolled
face down, strong hands spread his legs, and an unrelenting
pressure put against his tight asshole, until finally the dam
broke and what must be Nick's cock burst through, into him. At
least he assumed it was his older brother's battering ram. A
man's hips pounded on his butt cheeks again and again, until a
warm, wet stickiness was deposited deep inside him. Nick didn't
usually cum that fast. Then a tight belt was cinched around his
waist, with a connecting strap that went down between his rock
hard butt cheeks. A gentle, probing finger loosened him enough to
slip a plug up his ass, then it was buckled tightly on his hard
belly. His cock and balls were forced into a confining device. It
was difficult, because he was rock hard from the fucking. He
always got hard when Nick fucked him. His hunk older brother
liked fulfilling Shawn's rape fantasies, but somehow this session
was more gentle, and Nick seemed. not Nick. Certainly not as big
as Nick's huge cock, which Shawn had had up his ass countless
times, from his junior high days up to the present. Shawn had
only been allowed to fuck Nick one time: the night when Shawn was
admitted to the Corps. Nick had allowed Shawn to tie his arms
high over his head, face down on the bed, then spread his legs,
tie them off as well, and sink his cock deep into the hairy,
warm, dark recesses of Nick's amazing ass. That had been an
incredible experience; Nick was the tightest fuck Shawn had ever
had. The dream returned with a firm hand spreading Shawn's
asscheeks. Then a quick sharp stab of pain in Shawn's buttock,
and he drifted deeper into a dreamless sleep.



Still, the dream had been more erotic than frightening, and Shawn
felt safe in Nick's clutches, no matter how bizarre or kinky the
scene. Little did Shawn know that his drugged state was dulling
his senses.  He had been knocked unconscious by a hired gun while
on a mission in Central America. He had been sold to the rebel
leader. He had been raped. And now he lay hogtied, plugged, cock
caged, at the mercy of Diego, the rebel leader. But the injection
into his ass did more than just put him out. It lowered his
resistance to suggestion, to coercion. Diego now stood in the
doorway, leisurely smoking a cigarette, his eyes casually,
intimately moving over the taut muscled back, ass, and legs of Lt
Shawn Evans, USMC. Shawn wasn't a prisoner of war, like his older
half brother Nick. Shawn was Diego's private possession, bought
and paid for. Diego stubbed out the cigarette and crossed the
room. Shawn's dream returned with a loud SMACK on his ass,
leaving a red handprint. His eyes opened, and he saw a
benevolent, handsome face smiling down on him, gently massaging
his shoulders. The strong hands moved lower, down to his pecs,
the rough thumbs tweaking his nipples. Shawn's cock gushed precum
even in the cock cage. His vision was blurred and his voice
groggy. He blinked. "Nick.?" he muttered.

In the prison Quonset a mere 20 yards away in the rebel camp,
Nick failed to hear his weakened brother calling his name. He was
out cold. Fully naked and covered with filth from his hunt and
capture, and from being drug from the post where he had been
chained up to where how now lay, Nick was still every inch the
built, proud Marine. Hard muscled body, prominent jaw now dusted
with five o'clock shadow, short dark buzz cut expertly parted,
USMC tattoo on his huge bicep. The only thing missing were his
dog tags, ripped from his bull neck by Diego when he declared
Nick Stark a prisoner of war. Since the rebel cause didn't
recognize the Geneva Convention, Nick's treatment at the hands of
his captors was not restricted. Indeed, the man laughed as they
prepared to rape their prisoner.

Two of Diego's Lieutenants, Manuel and Jose, were jockeying for
position, seeing who would get to fuck the senseless hairy Marine
first. Nick had been spread over an oil drum laying on its side,
his muscled torso hanging forward, huge arms shackled to his
neck. The Lieutenants ordered some of the enlisted men to pull
Nick's legs wide, while they unzipped their camouflage pants.
Both men were well hung, and already at full staff. It was
decided that whoever had the smaller cock of the two men, would
rape the pig prisoner first. That way the second one would not be
deprived of a tight hole. Of course, admitting that one was
smaller, even to earn the privilege of going first, was a strike
against one's masculinity. And since their cocks were nearly
evenly matched, much good natured teasing bantered back and
forth, while Nick lay senseless over the drum, his captors
debating who would rape his ass first. Finally a coin toss
decided it, and Manuel grinned widely, stepping forth between the
outstretched legs, gripping Nick's hair covered thighs firmly.
"You two," he said, indicating two more of the enlisted men,
"spread his ass for me." They did as they were told, eager to
earn a crack at the big American's ass after the officers had all
raped him. Manuel hawked a gob of spit deep into Nick's ass, then
aimed his cock at the tight puckered hole, barely visible deep in
the hairy asscrack. Manuel thrust forward, burying himself deep
inside Nick. It had to hurt like the devil, but Nick didn't stir.
Manuel thrust again and again, pounding his cock into Nick, his
balls slapping Nick's butt. It required a different technique to
rape a man as opposed to making love to a woman. With a woman,
you gently tried different positions and speeds. With a man, you
weren't supposed to enjoy it, so a series of brutal, quick
thrusts intended to produce a quick orgasm was the preferred
method. And thus Manuel gave Nick a textbook rape. Soon blood was
mixed with his spit as he plunged into the captured Marine,
tearing him open. Then, with a guttural cry and several weeks'
worth of pent up semen, Manuel's cum added to the lubricating
mixture. He pulled out, wiping himself with the remains of Nick's
military issue briefs, which he had brought along just for the
purpose. He spit on Nick's broad back, threw the bloody, semen
stained rag down on his ass, and walked away. "Your turn, Jose,"
he called to the other Lieutenant. Jose didn't waste any time
moving into position, indeed he had been stroking his hardon
through his open fly the entire time that Manuel had been
pounding the unconscious Marine. Again a pair of hands went to
Nick's buttocks, and the rape was repeated. The enlisted men
patiently waited their turn.



As Jose's load of cum was sprayed both on and in Nick's ass, the
stud Marine started to come to, his back muscles and arms tensing
from the pain of the heavy abuse. Nick started bellowing,
thrashing his head from side to side. One of the enlisted men
grabbed up Nick's discarded, torn briefs, rank with sweat, blood
and semen, and tied a knot in them. Then he grabbed Nick's jaw
and forced it open, thrusting the knot inside. The ends were tied
behind Nick's buzzed neck. His thrashing continued, only the
screams were muffled. Jose stepped away, and the first of the
enlisted men moved into position.

Hours later, Nick's torso, slick with sweat, was limp over the
oil barrel. Near the end, he had barely struggled as each new
cock was thrust into him. Now he lay almost in a stupor, ashamed
of what he had become: a camp whore. But the worst part was what
Nick had done to himself. With his prostate being pounded
mercilessly, he had started to feel the need to shoot a load,
even in his wretched condition. Thus, after the last of the men
had pulled out, Nick had humped the rusty oil barrel with his
dripping huge hardon, scraping it raw with the need to come. He
had been quickly rewarded with an ejaculation that left him
utterly spent. When the men lifted the built Marine off the oil
barrel to throw him in his cell, they saw the enormous pool of
cum under him, with several gobs still dripping from his half
hard cock. They pointed and laughed, but Nick was beyond caring.
He didn't resist as he was led to his imprisonment. They threw
the naked, degraded Marine Captain into the cell. Nick collapsed
to the floor, barely moving. The iron bars of the cell door were
slammed and locked, and the laughter of the men died away. Nick
slipped away into sleep, his meaty pecs rising and falling, his
arms still bound behind him, blood drying on his violated ass.






...that's it for now, I haven't added anything to this story in a long time...  so drop me some feedback and maybe I'll get motivated to continue the adventures...