❀ Frilly Little Outfits ❀
An agonizingly insufferable pain fills his ears,
The environment starts to distort around him,
The trees contort and begin to curlicue,
Tones has to endure the feeling of his throbbing legs as they give out,
As he crumbles onto the ground he lands excruciatingly on his right side.
There are two short but brawny swole legs stomp right in front of his one sight-seeing eye, as the robust man stands there, he observes in between the two stupendous legs one of the most magnificent colossal bulges he had ever had the pleasure of seeing.
The sinewy mammoth man starts to speak in a throaty and reverberant voice, “You alrigh’ there bucko?”
And after hearing a truly heroic and violently American accent he stutters out the words, “ …Dr..dri…drill..s-sergeant?”, with his slightly nasal voice before his world begins to darken the last thing he sees is the thick muscular underbody of his old Drill Sergeant Ranal Swank.
…..BEEP……BEEP………BEEP……
The beeping of a vital sign monitor is what Tones first notices when he rouses from his unconscious state. He can hardly comprehend the voices of the nurses as they rush toward him to check his vitals. The only thing he can decipher is the blurry movement of the nurses as they put needles into his veins.
he speaks up in a pained voice, “H..how long have i been here?” He looks at one of the nurses that has the name tag Jackson on her scrubs, the woman was the size of a dwarf that you would see in front of someone's garden. She even had similar features to a garden gnome. Nurse Jackson's hair is black mixed with gray short curls, a globular hulking width contrasting her teeny-weeny height.
The nurse looked up with a mean look that made her horrendous features look almost appalling. “Mr. Petrillo you had a stroke and have been in a coma for the two weeks you have been here.” she snaps rudely as she pokes another needle into his skin.
Tones nodded and the movement made the dull headache he felt come back booming. He throws his head back in anguish and closes eyes to try and contain the blaring headache he feels slamming against his skull.
As he tries to get a hold of his burning headache Tones can’t help but think back before he lost consciousness and recall the delectable mouthwatering bulge of his old drill sergeant Swank when he was in the Army a few years back before he transferred to the AirForce.
He thinks back to the past and his hate he held for the sergeant that made him leave the army.
He had been a new recruit like everyone else at the camp but for a reason he couldn't fathom Sgt. Swank seemed to abhor him ever since he first laid eyes on Tones. Those 10 weeks of bootcamp were some the worst weeks of his entire life, only beaten by the months after his childhood best friend and first gay lover’s suicide.
Tones knows that Sgt. Swank was hard on all of the new recruits, but the way he treated Tones was different in a way that was complicated to explain.
his mind replays one memory he had during his bootcamp
“Petrillo!” Swank bellowed, calling his last name as he walked into the bay where all the bunks were.
“What’d you do now Tones?” his bunk mate Howell teased as Sgt. Swank stomped his feet over. It wasn’t only Tones that noticed how different the sergeant treated him, almost all of his fellow recruits noticed the odd way that Swank would treat him.
He sighed, “You know it was probably some common mistake. I don't even get what I did for him to be attacking me all the time.” Tones groans and gets off his bunk.
He turns to his sergeant and addresses him with a stiff salute,”Yes, Sergeant Swank Sir!”
Swank growls in his face spit hitting Tones lips as the sergeant leans close, “My room now!” he roars as violently as a tiger ready to strike.
Tones wishes he could complain out loud, but not only was the punishment for that very draining, he also was feeling certain things in his wiggly wang when Sgt. Swank ordered him into his room.
They walk towards where Swanks private quarters were, he was breathing hard on Tones neck in a way that made his silly cheese stick go slightly stiff.
They walked in and Sgt. Swank was shouting at Tones for something he couldn't even understand. He zoned out listening to Swanks baritone rough voice, the spit from his sergeants screaming was making him wet on the face and also on his little funny monkey below. Tones was watching the way his square jaw and shoulders moved when he would heave out of breath from all the ruckus he was making.
Then his sergeant was silent staring at Tones, it sort of looked like Swank was trying to subtly check him out. Tones blushes at the thought but then he feels a sharp pain as he is right hooked and falls down hitting his temple on a coffee table next to him. He feels pain shoot throughout his body.
Tones gasps looking up at Swanks short but built body. Swank is staring for a second after a quick look of shock his face turns cold and he glares violently.
Tones feels not only physical pain but emotional pain as he feels hate flood his heart. He gets tired of the abuse that he receives from his sergeant for simple mistakes that he could hardly help, he didn't even know the reason why he punched him in the first place as he was zoned out.
He whimpers slightly and asks in a trembling voice,”..why d-d..do you hate me?” he asks with as much venom he can in his weakened state.
Sergeant Swank leans down to his face, “ I ain’t the only one that hates you! You know who hates you too? GOD! you dirty faggot! You asshole MUNCHER! You're just a silly little dancing fairy fruit PANSY!” Swank gets louder the longer he goes.
His superior continues unstopping,”you think you can go around doing your little twirls with your frilly little outfits!”
Tones tries to speak up for himself,”It's the uniform everyone here wears!” he raises his normally soft spoken voice. Swank seems slightly surprised but then continues to shout.
“Nancy little SISSY! How do you feel knowing you are gonna BURN like the fag you are!”
Swank says unstopping but with a glazed shine over his eyes like he was going to tear up.
Tones redirects his thoughts with a slight grunt in anger as he remembers this instance.
After this incident, he transferred into the Air Force and he met not a nice or kind, but a sergeant that was not targeting him.
Tones tries to sleep and not have any violent nightmares of Swank or finding his first boyfriend dead inside a Walmart cart.
As he tries to sleep he overhears from the thin walls next to him a very familiar groan that he recognizes.
He looks at the displeasing sight of the gnome nurse Jackson,” Who is in the room next to me?” he asks the nurse. She turns and he almost gasps from the horror he felt as he forgot the way her face was built, “I can’t tell you that.” she says in a voice that he could imagine in the nightmares of little children.
“Does it happen to be Ranal Swank?” he asks hoping the grotesque creature would answer.
The frightening dwarf walks away unanswering.
A different male nurse walks in with their name tag saying Pachican, he was Mexican with tan skin wrinkles, and black and gray hair. Nurse Pachican starts to check his vitals and Tones turns to him,” Is the patient next to me Ranal Swank?” He asks the Mexican slowly just in case he doesn't understand his English words.
The mariachi man turns to him in a hesitant tone and says slowly in a heavy accent,” Si, senior”
He says fastly before rushing out knowing he wasn't supposed to reveal this.
Tones sighs and prays to the god that wouldn't answer to a bottom like him, that he wouldn't cross paths with Ranal Swank.