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Summer leadership school

Pre-story

This is based on a true story, although slightly embellished. Also, it's going to be very long. We'll get to the juicy stuff at pt.3.

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Awaken and prosper

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The first golden streams of Arizona sunshine begin to filter through a big window, beside a teenager's deployed futon. The glorious beams of light shine upon the scruffy face of the teen, making every hair reflect with distinguished brilliance. He opens his eyes, just to shut them again as they reject the intensity of the light. Being blinded by choice, he stood himself up, letting his sheets fall to the ground at his feet. He then, aided by memorization, gracefully made his way across the room, avoiding the precisely placed piles of books, clothes, and computer parts. The well-built teen seemed to dance among the seemingly chaotic condition of his room, his strong legs passing through the mess like his route was preplanned, rehearsed, and perfected.

You would half-expect this young man to be at least twenty, by appearance; his scruffy face, strong features, and toned body, all gave the impression of a well-practiced athlete. His naked form seemed almost godly, with the golden rays shining down upon him, giving his muscular body a heavenly glow.

The strong young man stood in front of his dresser, and picked out his favorite pair of underwear: red Calvin Klein briefs. (Under normal circumstances, he'd either wear boxers, or nothing at all, but today was quite an occasion.) They fit his waist almost seamlessly, elastic enough to hold firm, but not constrict. The godly teen took a peek behind him at his wall mirror, winked at himself, and gave himself a firm slap on his ass. He always loved his ass, it had many of the characteristics of a female rear, but was his.

He sighed and smiled to himself, for today was a special day. It was the last uniform wear day, and promotions of the year, and he was determined to look his sharpest. Departing the bathroom after a shave, he took his white v-neck out of his top drawer, along with a pair of black socks, and put them on. The cadet took his dark blue pants off of his hanger, along with his belt and light blue shirt, and buttoned, zipped, and clipped them on as well. Making sure his gait was properly aligned, he finally unhooked his class-a dress jacket, with a beautiful assortment of thirteen ribbons, two proud AFJROTC patches, and a clean and sharp silver nametag, reading: DINSMOOR.

Smiling gleefully to himself, the toned young man put his polished shoes and jacket on, completing his uniform. He faced his mirror again, this time with a serious look on his face. Brushing down his jacket, he removed stray hairs and lint whilst muttering to himself about how well he looked.

He quickly shaved and fixed his hair, then proceeded to the kitchen. The sharply dressed cadet's tummy grumbled something fierce, he mused himself that it could of been nearly loud enough to wake his parents. The hungry teen stared into the depths of the pantry, trying to formulate something tasty to consume.

Deciding to do an old style, simple breakfast, he took out a pan, a slice of bread, butter, a cup, and an egg. Heating the pan, and punching a hole in the bread, with the cup, came first. The salivating boy buttered up both sides of the punched bread, along with the center of the pan. Skillfully cracking the egg with one hand, he let the insides drop into the hole, and the sizzling began. Aromatic cooking fumes filled the air with a mouthwatering scent of perfectly cooked bread and egg, fused with butter. Instinctively, he turned the bread without spilling the liquid top, causing it to turn golden and sizzle again.

The now drooling teen took the pan off the element, and slid the piece of what he liked to call "egged heaven" bread onto a small plate. Grinding pepper and sea salt onto the finished masterpiece, he devoured it, in seconds flat.

Satisfied, for now, the less-starving teenager peered at the clock on the stove, reading 5:58. Time to go. He gathered his school things and iPod touch, then headed out the door. Now began his daily routine of getting to his school, which was incredibly over-complicated. It was just under a mile to his bus stop, which seemed like nothing; he loves to walk, it gives him some time to think.

Although his love for walking was enduring, the black dress shoes hurt his feet after a distance. The professional-looking cadet arrived at the stop five minuets early, right on schedule. Mikey, one of the bus's members, showed up right after the cadet did, dressed in his usual basketball shorts and T-shirt. The two conversed for a while, topics ranging from their plans for summer to the creepy guy across the street. Once the bus had arrived and the stop inhabitants boarded the bus, Jacob, another rider, pulled up late, once again, and ran over to the doors. The shaggy-looking boy puppy-dog-eyed the bus driver, who slightly resembled a gargoyle, and she let him in, with a scowl and finger-shaking for good measure.

The trip was normal, for what normal was, Mikey being slightly awkward, Jacob, being Jacob, and some others who are all good fun.

Arriving at the back of his school, the cadet stood up, looked at the empty bus, sighed, and left to start his day. He slowly walked down the courtyard, following the lines in the concrete until he reached across the circular platform in the center, then simply continuing on. Upon approaching the stairs to enter the 700 building, the handsome young man received plenty of greetings and salutations from his fellow cadets on the balcony. He responded with a grin and a wave, climbing the stairs at an energetic pace, greeting his fellow cadets along the way.

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Semi-final farewells

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The extravagantly dressed cadet wished farewell to all of his kin and friends, walking out of his seventh-hour math class with a smile of anticipation upon his face. He moseyed on over to the ROTC room, as Lt. Col. Simmons wished to speak with the cadets going to SLS. Ray took a seat next to the only female in the group, Miss Farnsworth, giving her a wry smile and focusing their attention to the Col.

"Alrighty guys... And lady," he darted his eyes to Miss Farnsworth, "you've all got your money, insurance, permission, and will get your gear. Except for the miscellaneous items I will give you tomorrow morning." Col. Simmons brought forth a box, containing camel packs, beanies, and beige undershirts. "Don't worry about cost, we've already got it covered." The Col. picked up his roster and announced, "When I call your name, grab one of each of these items and sit back down." "Dinsmoor, Farnsworth, and Cordova. Prado, Hart, Grove, and Garcia."

The cadets all took a hydration kit, a black beanie, and an undershirt. As Ray approached the box with the packs, he chose grey rather than green, as it was an ugly green. All the beanies were uniform, so he grabbed one, along with a medium shirt. He took a medium, although he could fit a large; he liked the way the slightly smaller sizes showed off his form.

The cadets all returned to their seats, and they all went over many nonessential details, including how mean the drill sergeants are. We all knew the answer to that. Horrid.

Ray returned home after a brief wait for his mom to pick him up, and recounted the events of the day to her. Before they all retired, they watched 'Doctor Who' together, and an almost-gay scene came on the screen. His parents responded with exaggerated with sounds of disgust and how it almost ruined the show. Ray cringed at the noise and comments, wanting to roll up into a ball and cry.

Immediately after his parent's homophobic outburst, he discreetly left, careful not to arouse too much suspicion. Ray is a fine, strong-willed, young man, fit to be whatever he wanted to be in the eyes of his parents, except gay. The cadet is an open bisexual, with the exception of to his mom and stepdad, who both hate anything to do with homosexual affairs. Ray sat and put his knees into his chest, hands to his face, and let a few tears go. So much for a good night's sleep.

Sleep. Dreams of smelly old farts yelling into the faces of little ones, shaking in their boots. They all bore rainbow boot laces, and the sergeant began smearing mud onto them, until their brilliance was indistinguishable from the filth surrounding them. They all silently wept, too afraid to move, stop shaking, or to wipe their own tears away.

The alarm clock buzzed it's life away, as if it was content that it could perform it's only function dutifully. It read "4:30," earlier than he'd been up in quite a while. Ray had already laid out his PTU's and his duffle bags by the side of his door, so leaving wouldn't be an issue.

He rose silently, and wiped the sleep away. Ray took off his favorite pair of panties: blue with a white lacing and bow on the front, which read "boy toy" on the butt and "boys will be toys" on the waistband. He sighed, knowing it would be the last time he wore them for a while. The athletic figure once again stood naked, placing his girl's underwear in a safe place underneath his sock drawer. The cadet put on his PT shorts, shirt, sweatpants, and sweatshirt, all plain as could be. Despite his boring appearance, the uniform was surprisingly comfy.

His mother was unsurprisingly grumpy on the way to the school, as she's most definitely not a morning person. With a "be good" and a goodbye, he left the vehicle. Miss Farnsworth came moments behind ray, but soon the other members began trickling in one after another. With only Cadet Garcia absent, Col. Simmons rolled up in the school's short white bus. It had more comfortable seats than the yellow ones, and luckily less shakes and rattles. After going through roll call, Garcia showed, and they were off.

If there ever was such a thing as true silence, the bus ride up there would be it. Ray had the front right window seat, his favorite, next to cadet Prado. The silence gave him time to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He gazed at the landscape as it changed from desolate desert, to rocky outcrops, then finally morphed into lush Forrest. His favorite part was watching the sun streaming through the branches, creating a flurry of warm splotches of light that kissed his cheeks so gently.

Every cadet was nervous, at best, as most people were chewing on their nails, if they'd have any left. Col. Simmons spoke up, laughing at us, telling us we could talk; It was a welcomed mental relief, but ray maintained his silence. He enjoyed the serenity the environment created.

After a few hours of small talk, and more meditation, they came upon a sign reading "Camp Navajo." 'This is it' thought Ray. He silently observed the various gates, patrols, sentries, as well as the street names. The gates looked secure, patrols attentive, and sentries grizzly. After several lefts and one right, they ended smack-dab next to the barracks. There were six identical brick two-story buildings, all evenly spaced around a central field of dying grass, connected by concrete pathways that could maybe fit two and half people in width. It reminded him on an ancient roman arena, but more oval-shaped and less decorative. The bus ground to a halt.

He dare not move. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a very tall man clad in a USAF uniform board the bus. All was silent. As soon as he touched the bus he screamed, "QUIET DOWN!! SHUT UP!!," with a sneer. Glaring at all the helpless-looking cadets, his growl turned into a bark, "GET OFF MY BUS!! MOVE MOVE MOVE!!" Naturally, Ray was the first one off. As soon as his foot hit the pavement, he was swarmed by sergeants, all screaming at the top of their lungs to get a move on. The wall of people guided him to the back of the bus, where he was screamed at to unload. Ray grabbed the red handle, and opened the door. Two duffle bags immediately fell upon him, but he caught and moved them aside. By now the rest of his unit was with him, directing Ray to their luggage. The giant man must of noticed; he came up behind them and yelled their ears off for not helping ray unpack. As soon as everyone was taken care of, they were to report to an officer. Ray chose the nearest one who didn't look otherwise occupied, and addressed him. With incredible confusion, he was directed to his flight. Naturally, he was the first one there.

He stood there in the rocks, amid the confusion, for what seemed like hours. Soon his group commander, a squat Mexican with a lisp, came and asked Ray if he was his flight commander, to which he responded with a "no sir." After a few more pseudo-hours passed, the giant came and looked Ray directly in the face and asked, "You starin' at me?" Before he could respond, he followed up with, "Well get a good look now, cause that's all the chance ye'll get." Ray shifted his gaze to the giant, then back to his original position. The giant man left.

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Come back for part 2!!

Soon? No. But you'll enjoy it.