SSGT Jason “Kick” Harris had to piss fuckin’ wicked. He and his buds from the base at Twentynine Palms had been throwing down pitchers of beer for several hours. It was his last day as an active. He would always be a Marine, but after eight years active, it was time to age out and enter the civilian world. His farewell party at Houlihan’s was winding down, with lots of drunken man-hugs, gut-jabs, and “oohrahs” as his fellow Marine brothers said their goodbyes. As the last of his friends left, Kick ambled to the head to piss out some beer.
Among the rowdy bar crowd, Kick had not seen the imposing figure in the far corner, watching his every move, waiting for an ambush reunion with the muscle-bound Marine.
Kick stepped up to the trough urinal, unzipped, and pulled out his hefty, flaccid, eight inch dick and began to piss. He braced his firm, jock frame against the wall using his left arm as he relieved his bursting bladder. He didn’t notice the bathroom door open or the hulking man dressed in BDU cargo pants and USMC tank top enter and stand behind him.
“Corporal Harris,” the stranger’s deep voice spoke.
“It’s ex-Staff Sergeant Harris now, and who the fuck wants to know?” Kick replied in his drunken Boston accent.
“Listen, boy, I made you a tough Marine, but I can still bust your ass, soldier,” the commanding voice replied.
“Master Gunnery Sergeant Dawkins?” Kick asked, amazed, as he worked his cock back into his jeans and turned to face the stranger. A look of boyish joy crossed Kick’s handsome face, immediately suppressed by a look of respect as his eyes focused through his beer-haze, recognizing his former Drill Instructor. MGS Jack “Ram” Dawkins looked down at the young Marine with a stern gaze that only hinted of friendliness. “Semper fi, soldier. You still look in perfect Marine form, boy. Full spec. And I can see that you’ve been hitting the weights.” the Drill Instructor said, taking a full body scan of the firm young soldier in front of him before locking his eyes with the green eyes of the blushing younger man.
“Semper fi, sir. Yes, sir, workin’ out every day, sir,” Kick addressed his former DI. “But as of today, I am no longer an active, sir. Going civvy, sir.”
“I know, soldier, but all that kick-ass training I drilled into you doesn’t fade that fast, right, boy? The Corps will always be inside you, and I’m here to retrain you for your future now that you’re going native,” Ram affirmed. “I retired from active duty last year, but I’ve come back to arrange your new life, soldier.”
“Sir, yes sir. But what do you mean, exactly, sir?” Kick asked, in confused disbelief.
A knowing grin crossed MGS Dawkin’s face. Every time he reclaimed a former grunt like this, he loved the pure power this next act of domination delivered.
“Obey to your Drill Sergeant’s orders, recruit. Look into my eyes,” Ram began. He reached out his right hand and held the younger man’s face firmly toward his, the unsuspecting beefy Marine already falling helplessly under his command. “Back in boot, you remember the hard physical and mental tests I put you through?”
“Yes, sir, of course, sir, but you did it to make me a better Marine, sir.” Kick replied.
“Half right, soldier,” Ram responded. “Because though you can’t remember this just yet, I also trained you to be my cock-hungry piece of Marine ass, too.”
Confused, and filling with rage, Kick started to recoil, wanting to fight. But he couldn’t break the penetrating gaze of the confident Drill Instructor. Kick stood there, held powerless by Ram’s commanding stare.
“Corporal Jason Harris,” Ram continued, pronouncing sentence, “God may own your soul, and your mother may own your heart, but your ass will always belong to me.”
When he heard those once-familiar words, Kick’s conscious free will collapsed. That potent phrase discharged inside the young Marine’s mind, detonating a deeply embedded mental trigger. Mind-fucked and obedient, Kick dropped reflexively to his knees, clasped his arms behind his back and bowed his head in full surrender to his Drill Sergeant.
“Corporal Jason Harris, sir, ready and eager to please you, sir,” Kick humbly spoke.
Ram stood there, towering over the subservient Marine, feeling absolute power, like he always did in these perfect moments. Ram had retaken complete control over the butch, mind-fucked Marine. Ram’s thick ten-inch cock woke restless inside his fatigues, anticipating the Marine power-fuck that was now imminent. “Corporal Jason Harris, remember the special training I drilled into you, the special training concealed deep in your mind. Remember that you are an obedient soldier, and remember that you want only to please your Drill Sergeant.”
A landmine of deep-hidden memories exploded in the younger man’s mind, suppressed memories of boot camp, memories of both exquisite pain and pleasure. Kick’s body flexed and twitched, responding in muscle memory to flash-images of himself, completely naked, his ass impaled on his Drill Instructor’s huge erect penis. He remembered shooting multiple loads of jizz onto the barracks floor while he kneeling obediently in front of his DI learning to suck his first cock. He could again remember the warm, ropy feel, and pungent taste of man-cum as he was force-fed scalding loads of his Master Sergeant’s ejaculate. Before, these had been fleeting images that surfaced in the wet-dream split-seconds between sleep and conscious life. Now, they were fully-formed realities. Aroused by these memories, Kick’s muscles pumped with blood and his asshole began to contract. His swelling cock strained full against his jock and a vacant look of sated, horny lust spread across his face.
Raising his eyes to meet his DI’s gaze, the mind-fucked soldier begged, “Please, sir, Please let me serve you again , sir. I remember now that I have waited, always worshiping you, sir, always hoping I could pleasure you again, sir.”
Ram felt victorious. “I am pleased that you remember your training, soldier. You are an exemplary, red-blooded Marine. The Corps made you into a man, but your Drill Instructor is about to remake you into a boy. A godamn dick-cravin’ fuck-boy, soldier!”
Blushing from the compliment, and excited at the thought of serving his DI again, Kick pleaded, “Take me, sir, I am ready and eager to serve you, sir.”
‘Soon enough, soldier. But not here. Get up, and follow me to my truck. We’re going to my place.”
The beefy Marine obediently followed his Drill Instructor outside. They drove off into the desert night.
Tx, Father , 4 steping those boring people away from me.111; only 1s.
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