Date: Sat, 18 May 2002 11:12:46 -0700
From: Nick Stark <nickstarkusmc@hotmail.com>
Subject: Foxhole Part I

"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.