Ravaging_The_Recruit__Gay_Army_-_Madison_Banks.pdf

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Copyright © Madison Banks
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. All characters are at least eighteen years old. This story contains explicit
material.
RAVAGING THE RECRUIT
By
Madison Banks
Jim’s first day had been an ordeal. In the cold of the evening, after a grueling workout, he’d sat, shivering
and muddied, wondering if he’d made the right career choice. Not everyone was cut out for the military,
he knew this, but he’d never faced himself with the question until that evening. His muscles ached down to
the bone, his lungs heaved, and cold sweat trickled from every pore.
The second day was worse. He still ached from the previous day, but he continued. He ran the obstacles,
clumsily jumped, crawled, pulled himself up and pushed himself down. He was slower than he’d been
before, and the Lieutenant shouted him down for it. Under pressure, he was faster, but his dexterousness
failed him. The Lieutenant’s scalding words seemed to unsettle him, and that made him less confident in
his abilities. He tripped over a mud-caked tire, falling gracelessly in the mud. He struggled to get himself
back up, but kept slipping. The Lieutenant reminded him that in a live combat scenario, he’d be dead.
As the training continued, he pushed himself harder. He realized that in order to succeed, it was not the
words of the Lieutenant he needed to follow, but the words from within, the words telling him to succeed
no matter what. He started his workout before anybody else, he finished his cool down exercises after
everybody else had left. He stretched, lunged, pushed, pulled and pumped iron until his body looked very
toned and lean, almost as though it was chiseled out of stone.
And now here Jim was, on that same obstacle course that he once dreaded, eager to tear the thing to
pieces. He looked out across the course. It was a long one, but he could take it. The wind carried a chill
that he’d learned to use, and the cold air kept him alert and focused.
The whistle blew. He darted forwards, the first obstacle was the stairs. Simple enough. He leapt
upwards, grabbing a bar and pulling himself up. In a moment he was at the top, throwing his legs over. He
climbed back down, dropping at the halfway point and racing towards the tires. He’d learned from his
past mistakes here. The trick to mastering the tires was to step on the inner lip of the tire and spring from
one foot to the next, pivoting off your hip. This would carry you through the tires quickly and safely.
Keeping your legs apart horizontally meant you were less likely to slip, trip or fall. He completed the
tires in record time. Temptation implored him to look behind and see how far behind the next recruit was,
but he resisted. He knew he needed to focus on the course, not on comparing himself to others.
Untouched by exhaustion, he continued at the same pace towards the monkey bars. He leapt up, grabbing
them and swinging from one to another in a perfect motion. Controlling the swing of his legs and the
motion of his arms, he made light work of the bars. Coming up next, he had to crawl under barbed wire.
This was one of his least favorite tasks, though he’d learned a trick to getting through it. He’d realized
after his third attempt, that less was more. If he pushed too hard, his legs or arms would rise and catch the
barbed wire. It was better to make small, gradual crawling movements in order to pass under the barbed
wire without incident.
After safely navigating his way through the obstacle, he leapt to his feet. Unperturbed by the thick mud that
now enveloped him, he made his way to the rope crawl. The thick mud on his hands would make this
difficult. As he arrived at the wooden structure, he hurriedly scraped his hands against it. Gripping the
rope, he threw his legs around it and began to shimmy backwards. His relatively dry hands made short
work of the rope, and as he approached the end, he swung his legs out to the platform at the end, landing
adroitly in the centre. He rebalanced himself, climbed down from the platform and charged towards the
inclining wall. His muscles began to ache, but he knew he could push past it. The inclining wall was one
of the obstacles in which he was decidedly disadvantaged by his height. Tall men could usually make
short work of it, but he frequently struggled. He hoped that he had the strength to pull himself over it in
one go.
He approached the wall, leaped up and grabbed the top of it, and placing his feet flat against the bricks he
began to tread vertically. He managed to get a leg over the wall, which he used to anchor himself up.
Pulling with all his might, he shifted his body weight on top of the wall and dropped down the other side.
This was the first chance he’d had to look behind him. He could see he was outperforming the other
recruits. However, this momentary distraction had drawn the attention of the Lieutenant, whose booming
voice he had heard throughout the course, humiliating the other recruits.
He looked across at the next obstacle, the cargo net. This was usually fairly easy if you could get a rhythm
going - stepping down on one part of the net, before grabbing another part that became taut as you did so.
He rushed forward, leaping on to the net. He grabbed the rope with both hands, but his right foot slipped
through the netting. He pulled with both his hands, and pushed with his left foot, but the rope only
tightened around his right foot. He released one of his hands, and the rope slid up to his right knee. He
wrestled with the rope, desperately trying to free his tangled leg.
The shrill sound of a whistle blew in his vicinity, and all of his muscles tensed up. The Lieutenant stood
to the side of him, red-faced and fuming.
“What’s your problem, son? You made it this far only to get tangled in the cargo net?” He barked. “I’ve
seen children climb these things in school yards! Sort yourself out and get over that net now!”
The Lieutenant’s words tore into Jim, turning his muscles to jelly. He thrashed desperately to free his right
leg which had become hopelessly tangled. As his body shook, he lost his footing, and his left leg slipped
into the netting as well.
Having seen enough, the Lieutenant shook his head. “Right. Jim, isn’t it? Get away from that obstacle
course right this moment.”
Sheepishly, Jim did as he was told, and traipsed through the mud over to where the Lieutenant was
standing. “Sir, I...”
“Silence,” said the Lieutenant coldly, no longer shouting, his voice low and serious. He nodded in the
direction of the trees to the left of him. “This is unacceptable. Follow me, boy.”

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