Dick-covery: Jake’s Wild Way Through Lust (Erotic Story)

[WrittenMuseum]

Prologue

The bus rattled down the endless stretch of road, cutting through the muted landscape like a quiet, relentless drumbeat. Jake leaned against the window, his gaze fixed on the world blurring past—trees folding back into themselves, hills slipping into valleys, towns dissolving into countryside. He was listening to music, soft and low in his ears, a quiet soundtrack that matched his thoughts as he watched the fleeting scenery with a detached sense of familiarity.

Jake’s body fit awkwardly in the cramped bus seat; tall but lean, with the kind of wiry frame that hinted at both youth and untapped strength. His skin was a touch too fair, catching glints of the soft daylight seeping through the glass, while his features were youthful but strong—a sharpness to his jawline, lips often set in a subtle line that masked his thoughts. His hair, a dark, careless tousle, caught shadows against the curve of his neck and framed eyes that held a mix of guarded intensity and quiet curiosity. Those eyes—a warm shade of brown that could seem almost amber in the right light—were the kind that had seen enough to be thoughtful but not quite enough to be jaded.

The music pulsed gently in his ears, a subtle thrum grounding him as he let his mind drift. Out here, miles away from anything familiar, the world seemed both vast and detached, as if he were merely passing through, a bystander to its ceaseless churn. Jake was twenty-one, yet he felt as if he’d been in this limbo his whole life—watching, waiting, his potential like an itch just below the surface, restrained by forces he didn’t fully understand.

A heavy sense of transition weighed on him today, almost pressing into his chest as the bus drew him toward an uncertain future. Life had a way of nudging him along paths he hadn’t chosen. Choices were something he felt he’d only partially made for himself, and his destination—some remote, unfamiliar base he’d read about in passing—was no exception. He had his reasons for going, reasons that sometimes felt flimsy in the face of all he was leaving behind, but sitting here, with nothing but the silent rhythm of wheels beneath him and the vast stretch of highway outside, there was a strange comfort in the unknown.

He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling the faint ache in his shoulders and back from the journey. His body was toned but naturally so, the definition of someone who’d stayed active without chasing after fitness, and his posture held that same ease—alert but unstrained, as if life had yet to weigh him down. His fingers tapped absently against his arm, in rhythm with the music, as his gaze slipped back to the window.

The landscape blurred into abstraction, colors melting into one another as the bus hurtled forward. And as he watched, a quiet thought stirred, slipping in like the faint bassline in his music: Maybe this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

The bus had eased into quieter roads, where the city’s hard edges gave way to open fields and small clusters of trees, muted under the hazy afternoon sky. As the countryside spread out, vast and indifferent, Jake felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He watched the blur of farmland, fences, and the occasional farmhouse glide past, feeling as though he were being slowly swallowed by the distance. This wasn’t a path he’d chosen; every mile felt like a tether pulling him closer to something he didn’t want.

Jake sighed, pressing his forehead to the cool glass, eyes fixed outside but unseeing, his mind drifting back to the unyielding face of his father. This wasn’t some rebellious breakaway or a last-minute escape; this was him obeying orders, following the iron-clad dictate of a man who’d made this decision for him. He’d tried to fight it—God, he’d tried. But in the end, his father’s word had closed around him like a vise. Any hint of refusal had only tightened the hold, and so here he was, sitting on this bus, the passive passenger to someone else’s choice.

A quiet curse slipped past his lips, barely audible over the hum of the bus and the faint beat of music still playing in his ears. He felt his jaw tighten, resentment bubbling up like a fire he couldn’t put out. The thought of it—that he was being shipped off to somewhere unfamiliar, to endure god-knew-what—all to satisfy a man whose approval seemed impossible to earn. His dad had made sure he understood: this wasn’t about what Jake wanted or even what was best for him. This was about obedience, about control, about bending him into a shape his father approved of, like a pawn being placed on a board.

His chest rose and fell with a quiet, controlled breath, the kind he’d learned to take when anger threatened to spill over. Outside, fields of grain swayed gently in the distance, rows upon rows stretching toward an endless horizon. A quiet life, undisturbed, far from any conflict. He envied that simplicity, wondered if he’d ever feel anything close to it. Because in his own life, there was no peace, no easy drift. Just a constant, rigid path laid out for him, one that he felt bound to follow.

The weight of it pressed down on him as the scenery slipped past. If only he could be somewhere else, somewhere beyond his father’s reach. But here he was, obeying orders, his own wants crammed down and buried beneath the layers of expectation.

Jake shifted, slipping his hand into his bag and pulling out a folded piece of paper. It was creased at the edges, worn from where his fingers had traced it more times than he’d care to admit. He unfolded it slowly, staring down at the stark black ink slashed across the page in his father’s sharp, controlled handwriting—a handwriting that left no room for ambiguity or rebellion.

The words felt as heavy as a command, pressing into him like stones. At the top, bold and underlined, was the name of his destination:

Fort Regent Military Base
Camp Harrison

His eyes lingered on the words. “Fort Regent”—a place he’d only heard of in passing, some remote training base with a reputation for breaking recruits down to their bare bones, then building them back up to military standards. And Camp Harrison, the infamous camp within the fort, known among the local boys as a place of harsh discipline and relentless structure. It was the kind of place his father had glorified endlessly, a testament to “real” discipline, the kind his dad believed every man should endure, whether they wanted it or not.

The location was scrawled beneath it—miles away from anything he knew, deep in the heart of the country where there’d be no easy escape, no quiet reprieve. Even the address itself had a stark, unwelcoming edge: 18 Regiment Road, District 5, Fort Regent. There it was, his father’s exacting plan laid out in black and white, a cold, unbending command that seemed to mock any thought of defiance.

Jake’s fingers tightened around the paper, his jaw clenching as he stared at it, as if by sheer force of will he could make the ink blur, make the words disappear. But they held firm, as fixed as his father’s expectations.

Jake slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, its screen lighting up against the dim interior of the bus. His fingers moved quickly, almost habitually, scrolling through his messages until he found the last thread with Sarah. Or maybe now, his ex. The conversation felt stale, hanging there unfinished, like a doorway he hadn’t meant to walk through but couldn’t close off either.

Her last message stared back at him, a short, clipped line that hovered somewhere between vague and final: "I think we need some space, Jake. I don’t know what else to say." She hadn’t spelled it out directly, but the meaning was as clear as it could be. He’d responded late last night, his own message tinged with confusion and a hint of desperation: "What’s going on? I don’t get it, Sarah. Just talk to me." It sat there, delivered but untouched, the telltale “Seen” mark hovering underneath like a silent, indifferent witness. She’d read it. She knew. But she hadn’t answered, and he didn’t know if she ever would.

A heavy feeling settled in his chest as he stared down at the screen, hoping for some small miracle—that maybe, even now, a reply would pop up, some reassurance that this whole mess wasn’t as final as it felt. He could see his own fingers hovering over the keyboard, his mind scrambling for the right words, something that might bridge the gap she’d quietly placed between them. Can we talk again? He typed the words carefully, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt, then hit send.

But as soon as he did, a small loading symbol spun aimlessly at the top of his screen, mocking him with its quiet insistence. A moment later, a message popped up, blunt and absolute: No internet connection.

He closed his eyes, a curse slipping from his lips. “Fuck.” The word cut through the silence around him, a quiet acknowledgment of the chaos closing in on him from every side. First his father, now this. It was like his whole life was crumbling into pieces he couldn’t hold onto, slipping further and further away no matter how tightly he tried to grip them.

With a resigned sigh, he turned his phone off and shoved it back into his pocket, leaning his head against the window once more. Outside, the world had transformed completely, the last traces of city life having dissolved into open, desolate fields and distant, rolling hills. The outlines of buildings, cars, sidewalks—all the familiar shapes of the life he’d known—had vanished, replaced by an unbroken stretch of countryside that seemed almost indifferent to his presence.

There was something so final about it, as though he were crossing into a place where his past couldn’t follow.

Jake closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead as if that could somehow squeeze out the anger swirling through him. His thoughts churned, spiraling in a furious loop, an endless, bitter chant. Fuck. Fuck this. Fuck this life. It was a low, seething frustration, a sense of helplessness that only seemed to deepen the more he thought about it. All of it—the suffocating weight of his father’s control, the silence from Sarah, the way everything familiar was being stripped away piece by piece. It was like he was watching his life break apart, bit by bit, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The quiet hum of the bus filled the silence around him, punctuated only by the occasional rattle over uneven pavement. Outside, the sun was sinking, casting a hazy glow over the landscape, the world beyond the window shifting into soft shades of amber and shadow. It was peaceful in a way that felt wrong, at odds with the storm rolling inside him. But no amount of beauty out there could ease the frustration building in his chest, tightening with every thought, every half-formed curse he wanted to scream but couldn’t. Instead, it echoed in his head, a bitter mantra repeating itself like a drumbeat: Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. An endless loop, circling over his failures, over the things that felt forever out of reach.

And then, just as he was sinking deeper into that angry refrain, he felt it—a subtle shift, the bus beginning to slow. The steady vibration of the engine softened, and the familiar sound of brakes hissing jolted him from his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, the scenery outside slowing to a crawl, the open fields giving way to a stark, looming structure that stood in the distance, wrapped in shadows.

He barely had time to process it before the driver’s voice cut through the bus, loud and matter-of-fact, echoing down the narrow aisle. “Fort Regent!!” The words were sharp, final, as though declaring a sentence.

Jake felt the knot in his stomach twist, a chill creeping through him as the reality hit him square in the chest. This is it.Fort Regent. The place his father had written in bold, unflinching letters on that paper, the place he was expected to bend, to conform, to become whatever it was his dad had decided he should be. The thought of it made his skin crawl, but here it was, as inevitable as a storm rolling in from the horizon.

He looked up, his gaze lingering on the dim outline of the camp ahead, rigid and foreboding against the fading light.

Jake rose to his feet slowly, his body feeling heavy, weighed down by the reluctant acceptance sinking into him. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he hesitated for a moment, gripping the seat in front of him as if clinging to the last bit of hope that somehow, this was all a bad dream. But the cold metal beneath his fingers, the stale air of the bus, and the firm ground under his feet were reminders that this was real, whether he wanted it to be or not. With a resigned breath, he steeled himself, gathering his things as he made his way down the narrow aisle.

The doors hissed open as he approached, spilling bright, unfamiliar sunlight into his face, and he blinked, feeling the sudden warmth prick at his skin. Stepping down, he landed firmly on the gravel below, the crunch beneath his boots grounding him in a way that felt almost cruel. Before he could fully process it, the bus engine revved up, and with one last glance in his direction, the driver pulled away, leaving him standing alone as the vehicle rumbled back down the road, shrinking into the distance.

The silence that followed was thick, oppressive. Jake watched the bus until it was a mere dot on the horizon, a fading reminder of the life that had brought him here. And then it was gone. His last tie to the world he knew, disappearing in a cloud of dust. A finality settled over him, as if that bus taking off was the closing of a door he couldn’t reopen.

He shifted his gaze, and there, just a few steps ahead, was a weathered signpost, the lettering faded but unmistakable: Fort Regent. Beneath it, in smaller, almost mocking letters, he read: Camp Harrison – 0.5 miles. The sign seemed to stare back at him, indifferent and unyielding, as if it had been waiting for him all along. Half a mile. It wasn’t far, and yet it felt like miles—a final stretch he wasn’t ready to cross.

He tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, the weight of it digging into his shoulder as he took in the barren landscape around him. There was no city skyline, no familiar streets, just open land stretching toward the camp in the distance. This place had been waiting, looming like some inevitable fate he’d been heading toward all his life, and now, there was nothing left to do but start walking toward it.
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I’m thrilled to announce that the full edition of my military erotica romance book, Dick-covery: Jake’s Wild Way Through Lust Vol.1, is now complete and currently published on kdp! This volume features over 38,000+ words of steamy, emotional, and unforgettable storytelling.

Thank you so much for all your support—it truly means the world to me!
Thanks again for being a part of this incredible experience.

full book link here! (US store)
full book link here! (UK store)
other country. you can simply go to my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum. !

___
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My novel that already published on KDP
- OMG F*cking life journey vol.1 (long seires, 100+ pages) full book on my KDP!
- Bare to the Bone
- The New Collection : Brandon’s Shame full book (100+pages) on my KDP too! (E-Book)
- The Christmas Spark (New!)
- Dick-covery (New)

 

[WrittenMuseum]

Chapter 1

Jake’s footsteps echoed in the cavernous building, the sound swallowed up by walls that seemed to stretch forever, rough and unpolished, holding onto decades of history. The main structure of Camp Harrison loomed around him, tall but unmistakably worn, as if the years had stripped it of any shine it might once have had. The corridors were long and narrow, lined with walls painted in a muted, almost dreary shade of beige that seemed to absorb any life left in the place. Light filtered in from windows so dusty it was hard to tell if they were actually meant to let in the sun or just block it out entirely.

Jake glanced around, the stale smell of old wood and faint disinfectant filling his nose, giving the whole place an air of neglected authority. This wasn’t the slick, polished military he’d seen in recruitment videos or the gleaming facilities his dad had gone on about. No, this was something entirely different. It was like he’d stepped into some forgotten relic of another era, where the idea of updating anything seemed as alien as letting recruits actually have a choice in things. The floor beneath his feet was scratched and uneven, worn from the countless boots that had tread the same path, drilled into submission by years of regimented order.

As he walked, he couldn’t help but notice the others passing by. Men in crisp uniforms, all sharp lines and unbending formality, their faces blank and distant. Each one looked like they’d been chiseled from the same stone, rigid and unapproachable, as if this place had sucked every ounce of individuality out of them. They barely glanced his way, their eyes trained straight ahead, their movements practiced and precise. To them, he was just another new face, another body to fall in line. And the thought made his stomach twist with a bitter resentment. Great, he thought, just great. Another cog in this old-fashioned machine.

He felt an involuntary curse build up inside him, a quiet, simmering anger as he took in his surroundings. Everything about this place felt like a slap in the face—a constant reminder of his father’s vision of “real discipline” shoved down his throat. This wasn’t some structured, pristine environment; it was a relic that seemed to cling stubbornly to the past, held together by rules and old habits that hadn’t aged well.

Jake glanced up, squinting at a crack that snaked across the ceiling, running like a scar along the length of the hallway. They couldn’t even fix that? he thought, shaking his head. Everything here was so… old-fashioned, from the peeling paint to the heavy, archaic doors that lined the hall. The entire place felt like a time capsule, stuck in some era where “modern” was a dirty word and comfort was just an afterthought.

And the men—they moved like soldiers on autopilot, their faces hard-set, devoid of anything that could resemble a smile. He passed a group of recruits who barely spared him a glance, their eyes glazed over with the same blank indifference he’d seen since he walked in. It was as if the very air here crushed any trace of individuality, grinding everyone down to the same polished surface.

Jake clenched his fists, feeling his frustration rise, each step echoing his mounting disbelief. This was his life now, thanks to his father’s damned insistence on discipline and “character-building.” His mind looped through a series of silent curses, his resentment simmering as he walked deeper into the heart of Camp Harrison, where even the air seemed to grow thicker, pressing down on him like a weight he’d have no choice but to carry.

“Hey! Hey! Who are you?” A cold voice barked from behind him, slicing through the heavy silence of the hall. “You there!”

Jake’s heart stammered, his pulse quickening as he turned around. Standing before him was a man who seemed built from solid stone—early thirties, with a stature that filled the narrow hallway. He was massive, thickly muscled with broad shoulders that made the black fabric of his uniform stretch taut. His arms were crossed, exposing forearms that looked as though they’d been chiseled, veins trailing up like rivulets. His chest and shoulders rose and fell with the kind of barely restrained energy that warned against underestimating him.

The uniform itself was immaculate, almost intimidating in its detail. Dark, nearly black, with crisp, pressed lines and gleaming silver insignias that marked his rank—a rank Jake couldn’t quite place but knew carried weight. A nameplate rested over his chest pocket, embossed letters that he couldn’t quite read from where he stood. Medals and bars lined his breast, polished and pristine, glinting faintly in the dim light, each one a silent testament to a history of service and authority. The face beneath the neatly trimmed hair was just as striking, all hard angles and sharp lines, his jaw clenched as his narrowed eyes bore into Jake with an unwavering, unforgiving gaze. The man’s presence radiated authority, a silent, looming force that demanded obedience without a word.

Jake swallowed, feeling the urge to look away, but something in him held firm, keeping his gaze locked as he tried to find his words. Before he could even begin, the man’s voice rang out again, harsher this time.

“Well? Are you deaf, son? I asked you a question,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing further. “Who are you?”

Jake hesitated, feeling the weight of the man’s stare pressing down on him. “Uh… Jake,” he finally managed, his voice faltering. “Jake… Jake Miller.” He cleared his throat, straightening up slightly, trying to shake the edge of uncertainty from his voice.

The man’s eyes didn’t waver, his expression hardening even further. “And what, exactly, are you doing wandering around Camp Harrison?” The words were clipped, each one delivered with a precision that felt almost like a threat. “This is a military installation, not some playground. I don’t have time for lost wanderers.”

Jake shifted, feeling a surge of irritation flare up beneath his initial apprehension. He hadn’t asked to be here, after all, and he didn’t appreciate being spoken to like a trespasser. “I’m here for… the new recruit program,” he replied, his tone edging with an almost involuntary snort of frustration. “My dad, uh… he set it up for me. I was told to report here today.”

The man’s eyes narrowed further, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face. “You were told to report here, were you? Well, guess what, Jake Miller, you don’t just ‘report’ here. You check in. You follow protocol. You’re in the military now, not some civilian waiting room. So I suggest you drop the attitude and start answering like you understand that.”

Jake felt a muscle in his jaw tighten, but he held the man’s gaze, his frustration mingling with an edge of defiance. “I’m just saying, sir,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady, “I was told everything was set up. I… called ahead, spoke to someone who said to show up today.”

The man’s gaze hardened further, his jaw clenching as he took a step forward, closing the space between them. Jake could feel the tension rolling off him, a simmering irritation that left no doubt about who held control here. “Let me be very clear, Miller,” the man said, his voice lowering into something that felt almost like a growl. “You don’t ‘just say’ anything here. You listen. You obey. That’s how things work in Camp Harrison. Now,” he continued, his voice sharp and uncompromising, “do you have paperwork, orders, anything official stating your arrival here?”

Jake swallowed, nodding as he reached into his bag. “Yeah… yeah, I have it.” He fumbled for a moment, his fingers brushing over the crumpled paper his father had left him, pulling it out and handing it over with a reluctant sigh.

The man took the paper, his fingers brushing over the ink with a scrutinizing gaze before finally, he looked back at Jake, his eyes cold and unyielding. “Alright, Miller,” he said, folding the paper with the same exacting precision that seemed to define him. “Since you’re here on direct orders, I’ll make this easy on you. But don’t expect things to stay that way. Understood?”

Jake nodded, his heart still pounding, his mouth dry. “Understood, sir.”

The man’s gaze lingered a moment longer, as though measuring him, weighing every inch of him with a practiced, critical eye. Then, with a faint nod, he gestured sharply down the hall. “Welcome to Camp Harrison,” he said, his voice cold. “Let’s hope you’re worth the trouble.”

The man glanced at Jake, his expression unreadable as he folded the paper with military precision and tucked it into his pocket. “I’m Colonel Reeve,” he said, his voice low but unmistakably firm, each word sharpened by authority. “And you will refer to me as Colonel. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir—Colonel,” Jake replied, straightening up instinctively, though his response was punctuated by a barely concealed snort, an edge of reluctance sneaking through his tone.

Colonel Reeve’s sharp eyes didn’t miss it. He gave Jake a lingering look that could cut glass, then nodded curtly, turning on his heel. “Follow me,” he ordered, his stride already brisk as he led Jake down the long, echoing corridor. Jake fell into step behind him, glancing around as they walked, taking in the stark, utilitarian layout of the camp—the pale walls, the polished but faded floors, the rhythmic clatter of boots that passed by in rigid, disciplined formation.

“So, Miller,” Colonel Reeve began, his voice cool but laced with an edge of impatience, “let’s get one thing straight from the start. You’re in the military now, and you will answer questions clearly and without that smart-mouthed attitude. Understood?”

Jake nodded, letting out a quiet, almost involuntary snort that barely masked his irritation. “Yes, Colonel.”

Colonel Reeve shot him a sidelong glance, his eyes narrowing further. “Good,” he replied tersely. “Now, let’s cover the basics. Age?”

“Twenty-one,” Jake answered, keeping his gaze fixed ahead but unable to suppress a slight huff as he spoke, feeling the weight of the Colonel’s scrutiny pressing down on him.

Reeve gave a slight nod, a curt acknowledgment, before he continued, “Any prior training, athletic experience, or were you just sitting on a couch until now?”

Jake held back a smirk, responding with another faint snort. “I worked out, did some sports. Not military stuff, though.”

The Colonel’s face tightened, his patience visibly fraying as he caught the defiant tone in Jake’s voice. “Figures,” he muttered. “This isn’t a gym or a rec league, Miller. We’re not here to let you coast by. I expect you to keep up—or you’ll learn very quickly what real training means.”

As they walked, Jake took the opportunity to glance around the camp, his eyes drifting to the scenes outside. He saw groups of men running in formation, their footsteps pounding in unison across a dirt track. A few were lined up along an obstacle course, navigating walls and hurdles with practiced ease. The structured routine of it all was impressive, but something about it felt stifling.

“Enjoying the view?” Colonel Reeve’s voice cut through his thoughts, dripping with sarcasm.

Jake blinked, trying to hide his irritation but unable to resist another faint snort. “It’s… interesting,” he replied, his tone laced with a touch of irony.

Reeve’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Interesting, huh? You think that’s an answer fit for the military? Do you always talk like that, or are you just trying to test my patience?”

Jake shrugged, his lips pulling into a barely-there smirk. “Guess I just talk the way I talk, Colonel.”

Reeve’s jaw clenched, his irritation flaring as his voice grew sharper. “Well, Miller, that stops here. This isn’t a place for ‘guessing’ or casual chat. When you’re asked a question, you answer clearly, firmly, like someone who has a spine. The military demands strength and discipline—not whatever that is you’re doing,” he finished, his tone dripping with barely restrained contempt.

Jake nodded, biting back another snort, but the slight huff of exasperation didn’t go unnoticed.

“Understood, Colonel,” he replied, his tone just barely toeing the line.

“Good,” Reeve replied sharply, though his gaze lingered, as if measuring just how much of Jake’s words were genuine and how much was passive defiance.

They continued down the corridor, Colonel Reeve maintaining a stiff silence that seemed to amplify the sound of their footsteps. Jake could feel the weight of the Colonel’s presence beside him, each step resonating with an authority he was reluctant to acknowledge but couldn’t deny. The hallway branched off into other rooms and offices, each marked with signs bearing titles like Operations, Logistics, and Training Command. Reeve finally stopped in front of a plain door with a brass plaque reading Processing Office.

“Inside,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for question

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full book link here! (US store)
full book link here! (UK store)
other country, or for other series ;you can simply go to my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum. !

 

[WrittenMuseum]

Jake stepped through, feeling the Colonel’s gaze like a brand between his shoulder blades.

Once inside, Colonel Reeve strode over to the desk, his movements brisk and unyielding. He took a seat, pulling out a stack of neatly arranged papers and placing them in front of Jake with a sharp, expectant gesture. “Fill these out,” he said, his voice clipped. “And be thorough. I don’t tolerate mistakes.”

Jake slid into the chair across from him, picking up the pen, feeling the rough grain of the paper beneath his fingers. He started filling out his personal information—name, age, contact details—all the standard things he’d seen on countless forms before. But even as he began writing, Colonel Reeve’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and unrelenting.

“Since you’re new here, Miller, let me make one thing abundantly clear,” Reeve began, his voice taut. “Camp Harrison doesn’t tolerate slackers, late risers, or free-thinkers who believe they’re above following orders. You’ll have a strict wake-up call at 5:00 a.m. sharp—no exceptions. When you hear the reveille, you’ll get out of bed immediately, make your bunk, and be dressed and ready for inspection within five minutes. Got that?”

Jake’s hand hesitated for a split second, the pen scratching to a halt as his mind rebelled. Five minutes? he thought, his mind cursing silently. But he gave a tight nod, his eyes on the paper, resisting the urge to roll them.

Reeve continued, his voice unyielding. “After inspection, you’ll proceed directly to morning physical training. Thirty minutes of high-intensity drills, followed by a mandatory five-mile run. I don’t care if it’s raining, snowing, or if you think you’re dying. You complete that run, every single day, before breakfast. Understood?”

Jake bit his tongue, his mind buzzing with sarcastic retorts. Perfect. Five miles of hell before I’ve even had coffee, he thought bitterly, scribbling his name across the next line of the form.

“Breakfast is at 6:15 sharp,” Reeve continued, ignoring Jake’s grim silence. “You have exactly fifteen minutes to eat, and it’s not a buffet. You’ll eat what you’re given, and you’ll like it. After breakfast, you’ll report to your assigned duties.”

Jake scrawled his signature, a quiet huff escaping him. So even eating has to be a race, he mused, a thread of irritation weaving through his thoughts. Fifteen minutes to choke down military gruel. Great.

Reeve leaned forward slightly, watching him with an unwavering intensity. “Work assignments vary depending on your rank, but for recruits, it means basic maintenance work around the camp. Cleaning bathrooms, scrubbing floors, clearing brush. You’ll report at 7.00 hours, and you’ll work until noon without breaks. And by ‘work,’ I mean hard labor. No slacking off, no shortcuts. We’ll know if you’re cutting corners.”

Jake gritted his teeth, gripping the pen harder than necessary as he filled out another blank. So basically, I’m a glorified janitor. The irony was thick in his mind, but he kept his face blank, offering only the occasional nod.

“Lunch is at noon. You’ll have twenty minutes to eat and recharge,” Reeve said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Then it’s back to physical training. More drills, more endurance training. You’ll lift, push, run, and repeat until it’s embedded in your muscles. By the time you’re done, you’ll know what real strength is—or you’ll drop from exhaustion.”

Jake could practically feel his muscles aching in protest already, but he forced himself to keep writing, each rule stacking up like weights on his shoulders. Sure, because that’s what I need. More running. More lifting. Fantastic.

Reeve’s gaze didn’t waver. “After physical training, you’ll report to your tactical training sessions. That means drills, weapons training, combat readiness exercises. This isn’t a game, Miller. You’ll do as you’re told and execute each move with precision. Any sign of hesitation or sloppiness, and you’ll be repeating it until you get it right.”

Jake swallowed, mentally counting down the hours of this endless routine. His mind rebelled with each new rule, each rigid expectation that felt less like training and more like punishment.

“Dinner is at 18.00 , again, with a strict twenty-minute time limit. After dinner, you’ll participate in evening inspections and debriefs, where you’ll stand at attention until dismissed. Following that, you’ll report for evening rounds, completing any unfinished tasks or assignments. You don’t rest until you’re given the order. And lights out is at 22.00 sharp. No excuses. If you’re caught awake or talking after lights out, you’ll find yourself assigned extra duties.”

Jake’s pen faltered slightly, his stomach tightening. So even sleeping comes with rules, he thought, the irony thick in his mind. Guess I better practice falling asleep on command.

Reeve’s voice grew firmer, as if the Colonel sensed his silent resistance. “This is not some walk in the park, Miller. You’re here to become disciplined, to learn respect and structure. Any lapse, any sign of laziness, and you’ll be dealt with accordingly. This is the military—not a vacation.”

Jake nodded, his hand moving stiffly as he signed another line, each rule sinking into his mind like a cold, immovable weight. He felt his resentment simmering beneath the surface, his mind cursing silently as each new expectation painted an even grimmer picture of the months ahead.

“Any questions?” Reeve’s gaze bore into him, daring him to voice any objection.

Jake kept his mouth shut, offering only a slight shake of his head, his thoughts echoing with a single, silent curse: Nope, no questions. Just wondering what circle of hell I signed up for.

Just as Jake thought Colonel Reeve was finished, the man leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, his tone almost casual, but there was an edge to it that made Jake’s stomach sink. “I forgot to mention bath time.”

Jake’s pen paused mid-stroke, and he looked up, his expression carefully neutral even as a new wave of frustration built within him.

“Bath time is limited to ten minutes,” Reeve continued, his voice laced with a stern finality. “You’ll line up, take your turn, and make it quick. No lounging, no long showers. Ten minutes, in and out, or you’ll be hearing about it from your squad leader. And don’t even think about bending that rule.”

For a moment, Jake could only stare down at the paper in front of him, his mouth twitching slightly with a forced, tight-lipped smile. Inside, though, he was seething, every ounce of him cursing the endless, ridiculous rules. Ten minutes? Even bathing has a timer? He pressed his lips together, clenching his jaw to keep from voicing his thoughts aloud.

He forced a nod, biting back the urge to laugh bitterly. Instead, he let his pen scratch the final line, his mind railing against the rigid structure he’d been thrust into. This place really is hell, he thought, a sardonic twist to his silent musings. But he kept his gaze fixed on the page, nodding along with a dutiful expression as his mind echoed a single, defiant refrain: Fucking world. Jake signed the last line with a reluctant finality and slid the papers across the table toward Colonel Reeve. Reeve picked them up, his sharp eyes scanning over the details with a meticulousness that made Jake feel like every word, every stroke of his pen, was under scrutiny. After a beat, Reeve gave a curt nod, slipping the paperwork into a drawer with a resolute click.

“Now,” Reeve said, his voice carrying a weight that made the air in the room feel heavier, “before we proceed, I’ll need to conduct a preliminary inspection. Standard procedure for new recruits.”

Jake felt a wave of apprehension flicker through him, his mind racing with questions he didn’t dare voice. He swallowed, nodding once, but he could feel the hesitation prickling under his skin.

“Take off your shirt, Miller,” Reeve commanded, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Jake’s fingers twitched, a faint reluctance shadowing his movements. He hesitated, eyes darting around the room, but the Colonel’s gaze remained unwavering, a silent reminder that this was not a request but an order. Jake let out a quiet breath, resigning himself as he grasped the hem of his shirt, feeling the fabric stretch taut as he lifted it over his head. The shirt slipped from his fingers, leaving him in nothing but a white tank top that clung to his frame, the faint lines of muscle visible beneath the thin cotton.

Reeve’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes sweeping over Jake with a scrutiny that made his skin prickle. Jake could feel the Colonel’s unflinching inspection, like he was being examined down to the smallest detail.

“Keep going,” Reeve ordered, his voice low and unyielding.

Jake swallowed, fingers grazing the hem of his tank top. He gripped it, tugging it upward and pulling it over his head, letting the cool air of the room brush against his now-bare skin. He stood there, chest rising and falling with each measured breath, his torso exposed to the Colonel’s unrelenting gaze.

His body was lean, fit from years of casual exercise that left him toned without being bulky. His skin had a natural, light warmth to it, smooth and untouched by any of the rough edges that military life would undoubtedly add. His chest was firm, the subtle definition of his muscles accentuated under the stark fluorescent lighting. His collarbones framed his chest, leading down to the faint lines of his ribs that gave way to a strong, flat abdomen. He shifted slightly, feeling the Colonel’s gaze sweep over him, taking in every inch of his bare torso.

As he raised his arms to pull the tank top free, the faint shadow of his armpit came into view—a slight but undeniably human detail that added a hint of rawness to his otherwise composed appearance. He caught his breath, feeling the vulnerability prickling across his skin, every inch of him exposed and laid bare under Reeve’s hard stare.

Jake stood there, his bare chest exposed under the harsh lighting, feeling an odd mix of vulnerability and defiance settle over him. He’d never felt anything quite like this—having another man look at him, assess him, with such intensity. Reeve’s gaze lingered over him, not with the casual glance of a friend or even a competitor, but with a cold, unyielding scrutiny, as if every inch of his body was being measured against a hidden standard.

He shifted slightly, feeling the tension in his shoulders, resisting the urge to cross his arms. But Reeve didn’t let him off that easily.

“Flex,” Reeve commanded, his voice sharp and clinical.

Jake hesitated, the request catching him off-guard. Flex? For a second, he almost thought he’d misheard, but the Colonel’s expression left no room for doubt. Taking a steady breath, he complied, tightening his arms, letting the faint lines of his biceps show as he brought his arms up slightly, his chest and shoulders firming under the tension. He could feel his muscles tighten, every inch of him subtly defined as he held the position, feeling the weight of Reeve’s stare settle heavily on him.

The Colonel nodded, his face unreadable as he examined Jake with the cool, detached air of someone assessing a piece of equipment. “Decent build,” Reeve commented, his tone dry but not unkind. “You’ve clearly put in some work, Miller. Lean, defined. But here?” he paused, letting his eyes travel over Jake’s frame once more, lingering a moment longer. “Here, you’ll need more than just ‘fit.’ This place demands strength and endurance, not just looks. You’ll be building on that frame of yours until it’s up to standard.”

Jake suppressed the urge to let out a snort, the weight of the Colonel’s words settling over him. He hadn’t signed up to be sized up like this, but here he was, listening as his body was appraised like a project waiting to be built. He kept his face impassive, nodding briefly.

Reeve’s gaze was still fixed on him, intense but thoughtful. “You’ll be trained to meet that standard,” he said, his voice calm but laced with finality. “Whether you like it or not, Miller, we’ll mold you into the strength this place demands. Every muscle, every movement, every ounce of you will become what it needs to be.”

Jake took in Reeve’s words, feeling a quiet defiance flicker inside him, but he knew there was nothing to be done now. Colonel Reeve’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes sharp and assessing. “Now, Miller,” he said with a faint, almost dismissive glance down at Jake’s jeans. “Strip those off. You won’t be needing fashion statements like that around here. Those jeans might pass in the civilian world, but here, you’ll wear only what’s issued. Get them off.”

Jake felt his stomach tighten at the command, his mind railing against the humiliation prickling under his skin. Fashion statements? he thought bitterly, clenching his jaw as he resisted the urge to respond. But he knew better than to argue, not now, not when Reeve’s gaze was locked onto him with that unyielding authority. With a resigned breath, he brought his hands to his belt, unbuckling it with a practiced ease.

The metallic clink of the buckle echoed in the quiet room, each movement slow, deliberate, the sound loud in his ears as he let the belt hang loose. His fingers worked quickly, slipping the button free, the faint zip of the fly ringing out as he pulled it down. He could feel Reeve’s gaze fixed on him, watching every movement with the same unrelenting scrutiny as before, and the weight of it made his skin prickle, an uncomfortable awareness settling over him.

Jake hesitated a moment, then leaned down, tugging off his shoes one by one, feeling the cool floor under his bare feet as he slipped off his socks. Each action felt strangely magnified, as if every inch of him was on display. The silent intensity of Reeve’s gaze only heightened the sensation, the quiet space around them pressing in as he continued undressing.

With a steadying breath, he grasped the waistband of his jeans, hooking his thumbs under the fabric and pulling them down slowly, feeling the denim slide down his thighs. The fabric brushed against his skin, slipping over his hips, past his knees, pooling at his ankles. He was left standing there, his legs exposed to the cool air, feeling his muscles tense involuntarily under the Colonel’s scrutiny.

Jake’s legs were as fit as the rest of him, the toned lines of his thighs and calves clearly defined from years of casual workouts and athletic pursuits. His skin, pale and smooth, seemed almost to catch the light, the faint muscles standing out as he shifted, stepping out of the crumpled jeans at his feet.

He felt a wave of heat rise in his cheeks, a frustration mingled with a simmering sense of embarrassment. What the hell am I even doing here, he thought bitterly, swallowing down the urge to curse aloud. But he forced himself to stand there, straight and silent, his gaze fixed just past Reeve, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity he had left.

Jake stood there, his body stripped down to just his blue trunks, the fabric snug around his hips, a faint bulge pressing against the front. His hands fidgeted slightly, not quite sure where to rest, caught in a mixture of reflex and uncertainty as he felt the weight of Colonel Reeve’s unblinking gaze. The silence was thick, pressing down on him, amplifying every small shift in his stance, every faint twitch of his fingers as he struggled to find some semblance of composure.

He could feel Reeve’s eyes moving slowly, methodically, tracing a line from his bare chest—lingering there for a moment before trailing downward. Jake’s skin prickled under the intensity, aware of every detail he was exposing, from the faint outline of his muscles to the bare skin that seemed far too visible in the fluorescent light. His shoulders tightened, trying to resist the instinct to cross his arms, but something held him there, rooted in place.

Reeve’s gaze traveled lower, moving over his abdomen, taking in the subtle lines leading down to the waistband of his trunks. Jake’s breath caught in his chest, feeling a strange mix of defiance and vulnerability rise in him, as if he were caught in some spotlight he couldn’t step out of. His bare thighs felt exposed, every shift in his stance somehow more pronounced under the Colonel’s cold, detached inspection.

And then, just when he thought the scrutiny would pass, he caught the Colonel’s glance drop lower, lingering for a moment longer than he expected. Jake’s fingers twitched, resisting the urge to adjust himself, feeling the fabric of his trunks pressing lightly against him. He wasn’t sure, but it almost seemed as if Reeve’s gaze had paused—just there—somewhere between his thighs and the faint bulge at the front of his trunks.

He could feel his heartbeat quicken, a heat creeping up his neck as he fought to keep his breathing steady. The Colonel’s face remained expressionless, giving nothing away, but Jake couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that he was being examined down to the last inch.

Jake’s gaze darted downward, following Colonel Reeve’s lingering stare. His eyes landed on the unmistakable shape of his blue trunks, the fabric hugging his hips snugly, accentuating the lines of his body in a way that now felt embarrassingly obvious. The bulge was prominent, pressing against the material, and there was no way around it—Reeve’s eyes were fixed right there, unflinching. Jake felt a surge of heat rush through him, his body tensing under the Colonel’s pointed inspection.

He swallowed, looking back up at Reeve, his eyes wide with a mix of uncertainty and disbelief. The Colonel’s expression remained impassive, that icy, detached gaze fixed on him with an expectation that made Jake’s skin crawl.

“Hurry up,” Reeve said, his voice cutting through the silence, low and commanding. “Continue.”

Jake blinked, feeling his stomach drop. “What…?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, caught somewhere between confusion and dread. “Continue with what?”

Reeve’s face didn’t change. His expression was as cold and unyielding as steel. “The underwear,” he stated plainly. “Strip.”

__
full book link here! (US store)
full book link here! (UK store)
other country, or for other series ;you can simply go to my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum. !

 

[Yoyo34566]

i love reading every story you wrote. Not rush the thing, good plot. I really like it.

 

[Yoyo34566]

Still waiting for part2 of Alex’s story in Fucking life journey.

 

[WrittenMuseum]

Still waiting for part2 of Alex’s story in Fucking life journey.

Oh! Thank you for your every supports and reading! Really appreciate it and i’m alg you like it! yes! i am in process of writing part2

 

[WrittenMuseum]

The words hit Jake like a slap. He could feel a pulse of shock radiate through him, his mind scrambling to process what he’d just heard. What the… His thoughts scrambled, cursing in disbelief. He’s serious?

There was no hiding the hesitation in Jake’s face as he looked at Reeve, his brows knitting together. “My…my underwear?” he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady, but the shock was unmistakable. “Really?”

PUNK!!!

The response came without a second’s pause. Reeve’s hand slammed down onto the table, the sound reverberating through the small room like a gunshot. Jake jumped, feeling the jolt in his chest, his eyes snapping to the Colonel’s hand resting on the table, fingers spread out, as Reeve’s steely gaze bore into him.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Reeve said, his voice now colder than before, a hard edge of fury slicing through each word. “I told you—the military runs on discipline, on obedience. When I give an order, you don’t question it, you follow it. And this inspection is mandatory for all new recruits. So, Miller,” he leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Jake’s with a finality that left no room for argument, “get on with it.”

Jake swallowed, his face heating with a mix of frustration and humiliation. He wanted to protest, to argue, but the weight of the Colonel’s authority, the piercing intensity of his eyes, made him bite down his words. His mind was still racing, cursing at the absurdity of it, but he knew, deep down, there was no way out.

Jake felt a hollow ache settle in his stomach as the weight of Reeve’s command bore down on him. There was no escaping it now, no room for argument. Yes, sir, he muttered, barely able to force the words past the tightness in his throat. The phrase left a bitter taste in his mouth, a reluctant surrender to the order he had no choice but to follow.

He took a slow, steadying breath, his hands moving to the waistband of his blue trunks, feeling the elastic give slightly under his fingers. His heart pounded in his chest, a relentless beat that seemed to echo through his entire body, amplifying the uncomfortable reality of what he was about to do. With a glance downward, he fixed his gaze on his hands, willing himself to get through this without falling apart.

One hand gripped the waistband, tugging it gently, feeling the fabric slip lower over his hips, inch by inch. His other hand hovered instinctively over his crotch, fingers trembling slightly as he tried to cover himself, his mind racing with a thousand conflicting thoughts, each one a mixture of shame, defiance, and disbelief. The cool air touched his skin as the fabric moved lower, brushing over his thighs, exposing more of him to the cold, unyielding gaze of the Colonel.

The waistband finally cleared his hips, and with one last tug, he let the fabric fall, pooling around his ankles. His skin prickled under the harsh light, the sensation of the air against him making him acutely aware of every exposed inch.

As the waistband slipped past his hips and finally let go, Jake felt the undeniable sensation of freedom as his body was fully released from the constriction of the fabric. His penis sprang forward, a faint, instinctive bounce under the weight of its own release, settling just behind his hand, which hovered protectively, attempting to cover himself.

It was a futile effort; his fingers couldn’t entirely conceal his length—about seven inches, uncut, with a thick base that tapered subtly as it extended. The faint, slightly exposed pink of his glans peeked out from the covering of his foreskin, the skin naturally rolled back just enough to reveal a subtle gleam. A faint dusting of pubic hair framed the area, adding to the natural, unguarded appearance of his body, lending him a rawness that felt magnified under the stark, clinical light.

He swallowed, acutely aware of every inch of exposed skin, of the weight of Reeve’s stare lingering on him with a quiet, assessing calm. His cheeks burned, a flush rising unbidden as he stood there, feeling both exposed and strangely defiant, holding his stance with a resilience that surprised even him.

Jake stepped out of the crumpled trunks at his feet, nudging them aside with a reluctant shift of his foot. His hands instinctively lowered, hovering close over his exposed crotch, his fingers curling as if they could somehow shield him from the penetrating gaze of Colonel Reeve. He shifted his weight, feeling the bare coolness against his skin and the tense vulnerability that gripped him as he stood there, trying to maintain some semblance of modesty.

His hands were an imperfect shield, a reflex that gave away his discomfort even as he attempted to stand steady, his jaw set and gaze fixed just above Reeve’s line of sight. His posture was tense, his body held with a quiet, reluctant composure that felt fragile under the weight of Reeve’s silent, unyielding scrutiny.

Colonel Reeve’s eyes didn’t leave him, that unrelenting gaze sweeping over Jake’s body as if cataloging every detail, every faint shift in his posture. A faint, approving smirk played at the Colonel’s lips as he said, “Good boy. That’s it.” The words, though simple, carried a weight that made Jake’s stomach tighten, his mind racing with a mixture of discomfort and forced composure.

Jake’s hands hovered, shifting in a constant, futile effort to shield himself, fingers covering only part of his length while the rest remained exposed, peeking out just beyond his fingertips. He could feel his face flush with heat, a slow burn spreading up from his neck as he stood there, grappling with the awkward vulnerability of the moment, his eyes darting anywhere but Reeve’s face.

Reeve’s voice cut through the silence, even and probing. “Tell me, Miller,” he began, his tone almost conversational but laced with an expectation that kept Jake rooted. “How often do you work out? And what exactly does your routine involve?”

Jake swallowed, the blood rushing to his cheeks as he tried to gather himself, focusing on the question in an attempt to push away the raw tension prickling through his skin. His voice came out steady but quiet. “I… I usually work out a few times a week,” he began, keeping his gaze focused somewhere just past Reeve’s shoulder. “Mostly weight training, some cardio… not as intense as what you probably do here.”

The Colonel nodded, his eyes still fixed on Jake with an unwavering focus that seemed to take in even the smallest movement. “I see,” he replied, his tone thoughtful. “That’ll change here. We’ll add more endurance, more stamina work. The discipline here demands it, and so will I.”

Jake suddenly felt a slight breeze brush against him—a faint current of cool air from the fan near the corner of the room. The breeze grazed his exposed tip, sending an uncomfortable sensation prickling over his skin, a reminder of just how vulnerable he stood. Instinctively, Jake’s hands shifted, lowering a bit in an attempt to shield that sensitive area from the brush of air. He moved his fingers subtly, covering the tip more securely.

But in doing so, he unintentionally exposed the base of his length, the faint line of his pubic hair now visible, along with the shape of his hips and the toned lines that framed his lower abdomen. He could feel the tension in his posture as he adjusted his stance, trying to keep his expression composed even as his skin flushed with the awareness of every slight shift. Reeve’s gaze narrowed, a faint glint of curiosity in his eyes as he took in Jake’s nervous stance, his hands still hovering protectively in front of him.

“What’s the matter, Miller?” Reeve asked, his tone almost mocking. “Covering something? Or hiding something you shouldn’t have?”

Jake felt his face flush, and before he could stop himself, a quiet snort escaped him. “No, sir. Nothing hidden,” he muttered, barely keeping his frustration in check.

Reeve’s expression hardened, and he tilted his head with a scrutinizing look. “If there’s nothing to hide, then let’s see a proper stance,” he ordered, his voice sharp. “Stand up straight, arms at your sides.”

Jake’s stomach twisted, a silent scream of frustration building inside him as he mentally cursed the situation, the Colonel, and every rule he’d been forced to follow since stepping foot on this base. This is insane, he thought bitterly, but he knew there was no room for defiance here.

“Yes, sir,” he forced out, his voice tight as he began to lower his hands, every movement slow and reluctant. His fingers slid gradually away, dropping to his sides, leaving him fully exposed. His chest rose and fell in steady breaths, the cool air brushing over him as his body remained completely on display, his length now unshielded, visible in its entirety to Reeve’s assessing gaze.

__
full book link here! (US store)
full book link here! (UK store)
other country, or for other series ;you can simply go to my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum. !

 

[WrittenMuseum]

Reeve’s gaze lingered, moving slowly from the base of Jake’s shaft upward, taking in every detail with an unhurried, almost clinical interest. His eyes traced the contours, pausing at the exposed tip, and a faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Huh… now I know,” Reeve murmured, his tone carrying a hint of amusement, as if he’d uncovered some private piece of information. His gaze flicked back up to Jake’s face, a playful glint in his eyes that left no doubt he was enjoying Jake’s discomfort.

Reeve’s gaze remained steady, assessing Jake’s every reaction. Then he spoke, his tone taking on an instructional edge, as if beginning a lesson. “Alright, Miller. First lesson every man here learns during inspection.” He took a step back, his eyes still fixed on Jake, and nodded toward him. “Move your hands behind your back and spread your legs to shoulder-width. This is called ‘stand at display.’ You’ll need to know it well here.”

Jake swallowed, feeling a rush of discomfort settle over him. Stand at display? He clenched his jaw, a flicker of resentment flaring up, but he knew he had no room to argue. He’d done something similar back in his scouting days, but the stakes—and the lack of clothing—were completely different now. A twinge of shame tightened in his chest as he realized the full exposure of what he was being asked to do.

“Yes, sir,” Jake managed, his voice quiet. Slowly, he moved his hands behind his back, clasping them together, feeling the muscles in his arms and shoulders tense. He shifted his stance, setting his feet shoulder-width apart, feeling the cool air brush over him in a way that made every inch of his body feel exposed. His legs were spread, and without the support of his hands in front, he felt the vulnerable sway of his body. His length hung naturally, and with each subtle movement, he could feel it shift, swinging slightly like a pendulum beneath him.

Reeve’s eyes didn’t miss a beat, his gaze unwavering as he took in Jake’s stance, his face a mask of composure that only heightened the weight of the moment. “That’s it. Now, keep your head up, eyes forward,” Reeve instructed, his voice carrying a tone that left no room for hesitation. “This position is about discipline and confidence. You’ll be expected to hold it with dignity, regardless of who’s watching. Understood?”

Jake swallowed, his cheeks burning as he forced himself to meet Reeve’s gaze, trying to ignore the odd sensation of standing exposed, his body responding involuntarily to each subtle movement. “Understood, sir,” he replied, the words steady, though the weight of the command pressed heavily on him.

Reeve gave a small, satisfied nod, his eyes flicking briefly over Jake once more before settling back onto his face. “Good,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “You’ll get used to this position, Miller. Consider this your first step toward real discipline.”

As Jake stood there, struggling to maintain his composure in the exposed stance, he heard the door creak open behind him. His instinct kicked in, and his body tensed as he began to turn, his hands twitching as if ready to cover himself. But before he could move, Reeve’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

“Stay!” The command was sharp, brooking no argument. Jake froze, his heart pounding, every muscle in his body reacting to the sheer authority in Reeve’s tone.

“Eyes forward, Miller,” Reeve barked, his voice low and unyielding. “When you’re in this position, you don’t move unless given an order. That’s the first rule of discipline here. Understand?”

Jake swallowed hard, forcing himself to hold steady, his gaze locked forward as instructed. “Yes, sir,” he managed, though his voice was tight with the tension building inside him.

Reeve stepped closer, his tone softening but still carrying that hard edge of command. “Good. Now, stay focused. I don’t care who walks in or what you hear—you keep your eyes forward, hands behind your back. You’re here to learn discipline, not to indulge in temptation.”

Jake stood rooted in place, every muscle tense as he heard footsteps entering the room, accompanied by a voice that carried a different tone from Reeve’s. The new voice was slightly less severe, almost amused. “Haha,” it chuckled, light and teasing. “Am I interrupting some kind of practice session here?”

Jake’s fingers twitched behind his back, but he kept his gaze forward, doing his best to obey Reeve’s order despite the growing tension gnawing at him. He couldn’t turn or react, couldn’t even see who the voice belonged to.

Reeve responded with a clipped but calm tone, “Not at all. Come in.” He nodded toward Jake. “This is our newest recruit—Jake Miller. Just arrived today.”

The newcomer’s footsteps echoed as he approached, stopping directly in front of Jake, who kept his eyes fixed forward, his posture rigid. But now, in his peripheral vision, he could make out the figure standing before him. The man was a bit younger than Reeve, his build just as strong, though he carried himself with an ease that contrasted with Reeve’s stern authority. He wore the same dark military uniform, the crisp lines and silver insignias marking his rank, but his face held a softness Reeve’s lacked—a handsomeness mixed with a faint kindness that put Jake slightly more at ease, though only just.

The man’s eyes roamed over Jake’s body, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he took in the exposed stance. “Wow,” he murmured, a hint of playful admiration in his voice. “You look like you know your way around a gym. Must be serious about working out, huh?”

Jake’s cheeks burned, but he forced himself to maintain his composure, his gaze straight ahead, jaw clenched. “Yes, sir,” he replied quietly, keeping his voice as steady as he could manage.

Reeve, standing off to the side, nodded approvingly, but the other man gave a small chuckle, glancing briefly at Reeve before turning his attention back to Jake. “Well, that’s good,” he said with a smile. “You’ll need that endurance here. And don’t worry—Reeve here is just warming you up. There’s a lot more in store.”

Reeve gave a slight nod toward the new arrival, acknowledging him. The man offered Jake a warm, easy smile, introducing himself with a casual confidence.

“Name’s Kevin,” he said, his voice lighter than Reeve’s, a faint playfulness to his tone. “Reeve here’s an old friend. Don’t let him scare you too much—he just likes to act strict.” Kevin threw a grin in Reeve’s direction, but before Jake could even react, Reeve reached out, giving Kevin’s shoulder a firm pat, a silent reminder.

Kevin chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright,” he said, backing off just slightly but giving Jake a playful wink. “Just listen to what he says.”

Jake’s gaze remained fixed straight ahead, as ordered, but he couldn’t ignore the heat of Kevin’s glance lingering on him, his gaze dipping momentarily, likely catching a full view of his exposed body. Jake’s fingers twitched behind his back, every fiber of him feeling the weight of the attention centered on him. He held his breath, his mind racing, desperately trying to maintain his focus.

Reeve’s voice broke through, commanding as ever. “Miller, don’t slouch. Stand tall. Keep your shoulders back and chest up—with dignity. You’re here to carry yourself like a soldier, not to look timid.”

Jake forced himself to comply, though every nerve in him resisted, each movement feeling exaggerated under their watchful eyes. He adjusted his stance, raising his chest and squaring his shoulders, feeling the uncomfortable pull of vulnerability and forced composure. His mind churned with irony, the words practically spitting inside his head. Dignity? Sure. Like I’m standing here with any dignity left, he thought bitterly, while I’m naked in front of both of you.

Kevin tilted his head slightly, glancing at Jake with an appraising look, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I think Jake here will be a good boy, Reeve,” he said, his tone teasing but edged with sincerity.

Reeve’s expression remained stoic, though he gave a faint nod. “We’ll have to see about that,” he replied, his tone more reserved, a hint of challenge in his voice. He turned his attention back to Jake, his gaze sharpening. “Alright, Miller,” he began, his voice firm, “time to see what you’re made of. Let’s start with something simple. Give me twenty jumping jacks, and count each one out loud. Keep them strong.”

Jake’s stomach dropped as the order registered. Jumping jacks? Like this? He bit down on a curse, clamping his jaw shut, but Reeve’s unyielding expression left no room for protest.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, forcing the words out as steadily as he could. He shifted, spreading his feet a little wider, adjusting his stance to prepare for the exercise. He could feel his skin prickling with self-consciousness, aware of every inch of his exposed body as he positioned himself, with both Reeve and Kevin watching him closely.

Taking a steady breath, Jake began the movement, calling out as he jumped, “One.” His arms and legs extended outward in rhythm, his body rising and falling as he moved. The familiar motion was painfully awkward under these circumstances. The bounce sent a faint, undeniable sway through him, his exposed length swinging slightly with each jump. The unavoidable jarring made him feel hyperaware of his vulnerability, his cock bouncing up and down, brushing against his thigh, springing back as he landed.

“Two… three…” Jake continued, his voice firm but tight.

Jake’s cheeks flushed as he counted, his breaths steady but shallow, each jump feeling like an eternity. Kevin watched with an amused smile, his eyes following Jake’s movements with a detached curiosity that only added to Jake’s discomfort. Each time he landed, his length swung back into place, only to be lifted again with the next jump, creating a continuous, humiliating rhythm that made him acutely aware of his exposure.

“Four… five…” His voice kept the steady pace, though his tone held a hint of strain as he continued counting.

He focused on keeping the count firm, trying to drown out the prickling discomfort coursing through his skin. His arms and legs worked in sync, his body moving with a familiar cadence, but every jump brought a new reminder of his exposure—the unguarded sway of his body, the unavoidable sensation of movement he couldn’t control, and the weight of both pairs of eyes following every detail of his form.

“Six… seven… eight…” Jake’s voice continued to fill the silence, each count adding to the relentless rhythm.

As Jake completed the last jump, he stopped, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to regain his composure. He could feel the warmth on his face, the flush that seemed impossible to hide. Reeve gave him a curt nod of approval. “Good,” he said, his voice steady, appraising. Beside him, Kevin stood with an easy smile, his gaze lingering on Jake with that same curious amusement.

Unable to resist, Jake glanced down for a fleeting second, noting the slight, residual sway of his penis from the exertion. He quickly looked back up, steeling himself, knowing both men had seen every detail of his performance.

__
full book link here! (US store)
full book link here! (UK store)
other country, or for other series ;you can simply go to my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum. !

___

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My novel that already published on KDP
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[WrittenMuseum]

Reeve then turned to Kevin, his expression shifting to one of mild impatience. “So, what brings you here, Kevin?”

Kevin looked as though he’d just remembered, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Oh, right!” he said, grinning. “I came to pick up some documents. Didn’t mean to interrupt this… valuable training.” His tone was light, almost teasing, and he gave Jake a quick wink before turning toward the far side of the room.

Jake remained still, his hands behind his back, watching as Kevin made his way to a filing cabinet in the corner. Kevin sifted through a stack of papers, finally pulling out a file with a satisfied nod. He tucked it under his arm, then walked back toward the center of the room, casting a quick glance at Jake as he made his way toward the door.

“Well, that’s all I needed. I’ll leave you two to it,” Kevin said, raising a casual hand in a parting gesture toward Reeve. Reeve nodded, though his expression betrayed a faint look of annoyance.

As Kevin passed Jake, he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, his hand lingering for a brief second. “See you around the camp, Jake,” he said with a grin, his tone friendly but laced with that same hint of amusement. Jake nodded slightly, keeping his posture steady, though the brief touch only seemed to heighten his awareness of the situation.

Kevin pushed open the door and stepped through, the sound of his footsteps gradually fading down the hall. The door clicked shut, and the room fell into silence once more, leaving Jake alone with Reeve, the air thick with the weight of expectation.

Reeve cleared his throat, his gaze as unyielding as ever. “Follow me,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “I’ll show you to the barracks, introduce you to your quarters, and give you a proper tour of each area you’ll need to know.”

Jake nodded quickly, swallowing his discomfort. “Yes, sir,” he replied, keeping his voice steady even as his cheeks warmed. He wanted nothing more than to cover himself, to escape the tension building under Reeve’s relentless scrutiny.

Reeve turned and strode toward the door, gesturing with a brief nod for Jake to follow. Jake took a step forward but paused, glancing down at the clothes he’d left behind, his voice hesitant as he spoke up. “Sir… would it be alright if I, uh, put my clothes back on?”

Reeve turned to him, his gaze cold and unwavering. “No,” he replied curtly. “I already told you—you won’t be needing that kind of fashion here. You’ll get your uniform soon enough.”

Jake suppressed an exasperated snort, glancing left and right before looking back at Reeve. “Alright then… so, uh, where’s the uniform?” he asked, his voice carrying a trace of impatience as he shifted uncomfortably.

Reeve’s expression darkened, a hint of frustration crossing his face. “We’re going to get it, Miller. Don’t waste any more time with questions,” he said, his voice sharp. “Now, move. Just follow orders.”

Jake bit back a sigh, nodding as he fell in step behind Reeve, his discomfort mounting with every step.

__
full book link here! (US store)
full book link here! (UK store)
other country, or for other series ;you can simply go to my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum. !

 

[WrittenMuseum]

As Jake stepped out of the office and into the main corridor, the sights and sounds of the building pressed in on him. The hall was filled with men in uniform, moving with purpose. Some were engaged in quiet conversations, exchanging casual words with friends. Others were focused on cleaning, scrubbing the floors with an almost practiced precision, while a few hurried past, preoccupied with their tasks.

Jake felt his skin prickle as he became acutely aware of his own bare form amid the orderly chaos. The cold air of the hallway brushed over him, making his skin tighten, a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from his face. Instinctively, his hands drifted to cover himself, his fingers curling as he tried to shield his most vulnerable parts, feeling the tension in his shoulders and chest as he walked. His gaze darting down the hall, catching glimpses of curious glances from those they passed.

Reeve glanced back, his sharp gaze immediately catching Jake’s hands as they hovered instinctively over his crotch. Without a moment’s hesitation, Reeve stepped forward, his voice booming through the corridor. “STOP COVERING!” he barked, his voice slicing through the air. In a swift motion, he slapped Jake’s hands away, the sharp, unexpected contact jolting Jake out of his guarded stance. His hands dropped instantly, falling to his sides under Reeve’s unyielding command, leaving him standing even more exposed than before.

Jake’s heart pounded, the sudden intensity making him freeze. He felt his face flush deeper as he fought the impulse to cover himself again, but the stern look in Reeve’s eyes held him in place, every muscle tense.

Reeve leaned in, his tone deadly serious. “I’m going to tell you this once more—and this is the last time. Walk straight. Keep your arms by your sides, shoulders up. And stop acting like you’ve got something to hide. Confidence, Miller. You’re in the military now, and you’re expected to act like it. Stop shying away and thinking about that ‘junk’ nonsense. Got it?”

Jake swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the Colonel’s words settle over him, his mind racing with a mixture of frustration and the urge to comply. He hesitated, his pulse still racing, but he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, sir… I understand.”

“Good,” Reeve said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Now, move.”

Jake took a deep breath, forcing his gaze forward, his shoulders back as he straightened his posture, fighting the instinct to cover himself. The hallway felt colder, his skin tingling with awareness, but he kept his hands firmly at his sides, following Reeve’s lead with each step.

The loud reprimand from Reeve had drawn the attention of nearly everyone in the corridor. Heads turned, eyes widening as they took in the sight of Jake, stripped bare, standing rigid and exposed in the midst of the bustling hallway. Reeve, seemingly unfazed, resumed walking with steady, confident strides, as if nothing unusual had occurred. But Jake could feel the collective gaze of every person around him, each glance sending a fresh wave of embarrassment through him.

A few men exchanged glances, smirking, while others openly chuckled, their eyes following Jake as he trailed behind Reeve. The giggles and low murmurs grew louder, a ripple of quiet laughter spreading through the hallway, each sound feeling like a sharp jab against his already strained composure. Jake’s heart raced as he walked, every step amplifying his awareness of just how exposed he was—his bare chest, his naked backside, and the undeniable vulnerability of his exposed length on full display.

The laughter grew, a few voices whispering as he passed, the taunts just loud enough to make his skin prickle. Jake kept his gaze forward, trying to fix his focus on Reeve’s back, willing himself not to react, not to give in to the overwhelming urge to shield himself. The cold air brushed over his skin, the sensation sharp and unrelenting, a reminder of every exposed inch that felt laid bare for everyone to see.

Goddamn it, he thought, seething silently. Screw this, screw them all. He forced himself forward, the resentment boiling within him, though he knew there was no escaping. I hate every second of this, he thought bitterly, each step feeling like a test he had no choice but to endure.

As they walked, Reeve began speaking, his tone formal and brisk, clearly intended as an orientation.

“This corridor here,” he started, gesturing with a sweeping hand, “is the main artery of the facility. It’s where you’ll find the offices of the higher-ranking officials, as well as the assembly points for important gatherings. Every morning at 6.00 sharp, this hall is filled with personnel. Roll calls, briefings, and unit meetings—everything that requires collective order begins right here.” He gave Jake a sidelong glance, ensuring he was paying attention.

Jake nodded, his cheeks still flushed, trying to focus on Reeve’s words despite his discomfort. Each step made his body move in ways he couldn’t control, his bare dick bouncing slightly, brushing against his thigh with each stride. The constant, unshielded movement heightened his awareness, every subtle sway making him feel as though he were walking under a spotlight.

Reeve pointed to a few doors on the left side of the corridor. “Those rooms house the administrative offices—logistics, operations, personnel management. Any issues with assignments, orders, or interdepartmental coordination come through here. It’s efficient, organized,” he continued, his voice clipped and authoritative. “You’ll be expected to understand the layout; we don’t tolerate aimless wandering. If you’re called here for a meeting, know exactly where to go.”

Jake kept his gaze forward, nodding as he absorbed the information, though he could feel his skin prickling under the continued stares of others they passed. Every bounce, every brush against his thigh reminded him how exposed he was, his body on display in the heart of military order and discipline.

Reeve gestured down toward the far end of the corridor. “And at the end, you’ll find the assembly room,” he added. “It’s used for larger gatherings, disciplinary reviews, and formal ceremonies. When it’s time for you to report there, I expect you to be prompt, fully prepared, and attentive.”

Jake swallowed, forcing himself to keep pace, trying to act as though he weren’t acutely aware of every movement his body made. The constant contact of his skin, the chill of the air, and Reeve’s unyielding, matter-of-fact tone all added to the surreal feeling that he was on display for the entire facility.

Reeve continued down the corridor, gesturing toward various doors as they walked. “Over there,” he said, pointing to a door on the right, “that’s the tactical briefing room, used by the strategists. All operation debriefs, planning sessions, and intelligence updates happen in there. You won’t have access without clearance, so don’t wander in.” He turned sharply to another door. “And here’s the inventory office. Equipment, uniforms, supplies—they all go through this department. If you’re assigned duty there, you’ll learn the protocols.”

Jake kept pace, trying to absorb the information despite his frustration. Each step reminded him of his nakedness, and the subtle movements of his body only seemed to amplify his awareness of the cool air and the echoing sounds of footsteps around them.

Reeve gestured again, this time to a doorway just off the main hall. “And here,” he said, a faint smirk crossing his face, “is the primary bathroom for officers and senior staff.” He paused, his eyes lingering on Jake with a calculated look. “But before you get any ideas, you won’t be using this one. For recruits like you, the bathrooms are outside, and in the civilian quarters.”

Jake clenched his jaw, his stomach twisting with irritation. Great. Even the damn bathrooms have rank around here, he thought bitterly, his mind laced with sarcasm. Can’t even take a piss without status.

Reeve’s gaze was unyielding, clearly catching the flicker of frustration in Jake’s face. “But don’t think you won’t be spending any time in here,” he added coolly. “We’ll have you coming in regularly—for upkeep. Scrubbing, washing, sanitizing. This place won’t clean itself, and recruits like you handle those duties.”

Jake held his composure, though a surge of resentment bubbled up inside him. Perfect, he thought, his mind practically spitting. Not allowed to use it, but I get to scrub it down for everyone else. Just brilliant. He forced himself to nod, keeping his expression neutral as he walked on, swallowing the growing bitterness with every step.

As Jake continued down the hall, trying to keep his mind focused on Reeve’s unending list of instructions, he suddenly felt a sharp, unexpected slap across his bare backside. The sound rang out, startling him as a jolt shot through his body, his skin tingling from the contact. He turned quickly, his face flushing as he met the smirking gaze of a soldier who’d just passed by, clearly enjoying Jake’s reaction.

“Yo, new guy,” the man said, his voice dripping with amusement, his eyes lingering in a way that made Jake’s skin prickle. The playful smirk on the man’s face only fueled Jake’s frustration, a flicker of defiance flashing in his eyes. His whole body tensed, and every part of him wanted to retaliate, to demand respect, but he knew he couldn’t risk it—not with Reeve nearby.

Jake’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight as he forced himself to stay silent, swallowing the anger that threatened to break through. The man chuckled, throwing him a casual, almost taunting grin over his shoulder. “Welcome to Camp Harrison,” he added, the words laced with a mocking familiarity.

The unwanted touch and the casual remark stung, heightening Jake’s sense of vulnerability. He let out a restrained sigh, turning his face forward before Reeve could notice his distraction, trying to mask the frustration simmering beneath his surface. But he couldn’t shake the feeling, the tension still hot under his skin as he tried to compose himself.

Reeve, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, continued walking with steady purpose, leading Jake toward the end of the corridor. They reached a set of double doors, and Reeve pushed them open, stepping out into the fresh air of the yard beyond. Jake blinked as the light hit him, the open space a sharp contrast to the enclosed, oppressive corridor. The yard was wide and bordered by tall fences, with sections designated for various drills, and a few groups of soldiers training in the distance.

__
full book link here! (US store)
full book link here! (UK store)
other country, or for other series ;you can simply go to my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum. !

 

[Yoyo34566]

This one is hot too

 

[Yoyo34566]

As Jake stepped out of the office and into the main corridor, the sights and sounds of the building pressed in on him. The hall was filled with men in uniform, moving with purpose. Some were engaged in quiet conversations, exchanging casual words with friends. Others were focused on cleaning, scrubbing the floors with an almost practiced precision, while a few hurried past, preoccupied with their tasks.

Jake felt his skin prickle as he became acutely aware of his own bare form amid the orderly chaos. The cold air of the hallway brushed over him, making his skin tighten, a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from his face. Instinctively, his hands drifted to cover himself, his fingers curling as he tried to shield his most vulnerable parts, feeling the tension in his shoulders and chest as he walked. His gaze darting down the hall, catching glimpses of curious glances from those they passed.

Reeve glanced back, his sharp gaze immediately catching Jake’s hands as they hovered instinctively over his crotch. Without a moment’s hesitation, Reeve stepped forward, his voice booming through the corridor. “STOP COVERING!” he barked, his voice slicing through the air. In a swift motion, he slapped Jake’s hands away, the sharp, unexpected contact jolting Jake out of his guarded stance. His hands dropped instantly, falling to his sides under Reeve’s unyielding command, leaving him standing even more exposed than before.

Jake’s heart pounded, the sudden intensity making him freeze. He felt his face flush deeper as he fought the impulse to cover himself again, but the stern look in Reeve’s eyes held him in place, every muscle tense.

Reeve leaned in, his tone deadly serious. “I’m going to tell you this once more—and this is the last time. Walk straight. Keep your arms by your sides, shoulders up. And stop acting like you’ve got something to hide. Confidence, Miller. You’re in the military now, and you’re expected to act like it. Stop shying away and thinking about that ‘junk’ nonsense. Got it?”

Jake swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the Colonel’s words settle over him, his mind racing with a mixture of frustration and the urge to comply. He hesitated, his pulse still racing, but he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, sir… I understand.”

“Good,” Reeve said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Now, move.”

Jake took a deep breath, forcing his gaze forward, his shoulders back as he straightened his posture, fighting the instinct to cover himself. The hallway felt colder, his skin tingling with awareness, but he kept his hands firmly at his sides, following Reeve’s lead with each step.

The loud reprimand from Reeve had drawn the attention of nearly everyone in the corridor. Heads turned, eyes widening as they took in the sight of Jake, stripped bare, standing rigid and exposed in the midst of the bustling hallway. Reeve, seemingly unfazed, resumed walking with steady, confident strides, as if nothing unusual had occurred. But Jake could feel the collective gaze of every person around him, each glance sending a fresh wave of embarrassment through him.

A few men exchanged glances, smirking, while others openly chuckled, their eyes following Jake as he trailed behind Reeve. The giggles and low murmurs grew louder, a ripple of quiet laughter spreading through the hallway, each sound feeling like a sharp jab against his already strained composure. Jake’s heart raced as he walked, every step amplifying his awareness of just how exposed he was—his bare chest, his naked backside, and the undeniable vulnerability of his exposed length on full display.

The laughter grew, a few voices whispering as he passed, the taunts just loud enough to make his skin prickle. Jake kept his gaze forward, trying to fix his focus on Reeve’s back, willing himself not to react, not to give in to the overwhelming urge to shield himself. The cold air brushed over his skin, the sensation sharp and unrelenting, a reminder of every exposed inch that felt laid bare for everyone to see.

Goddamn it, he thought, seething silently. Screw this, screw them all. He forced himself forward, the resentment boiling within him, though he knew there was no escaping. I hate every second of this, he thought bitterly, each step feeling like a test he had no choice but to endure.

As they walked, Reeve began speaking, his tone formal and brisk, clearly intended as an orientation.

“This corridor here,” he started, gesturing with a sweeping hand, “is the main artery of the facility. It’s where you’ll find the offices of the higher-ranking officials, as well as the assembly points for important gatherings. Every morning at 6.00 sharp, this hall is filled with personnel. Roll calls, briefings, and unit meetings—everything that requires collective order begins right here.” He gave Jake a sidelong glance, ensuring he was paying attention.

Jake nodded, his cheeks still flushed, trying to focus on Reeve’s words despite his discomfort. Each step made his body move in ways he couldn’t control, his bare dick bouncing slightly, brushing against his thigh with each stride. The constant, unshielded movement heightened his awareness, every subtle sway making him feel as though he were walking under a spotlight.

Reeve pointed to a few doors on the left side of the corridor. “Those rooms house the administrative offices—logistics, operations, personnel management. Any issues with assignments, orders, or interdepartmental coordination come through here. It’s efficient, organized,” he continued, his voice clipped and authoritative. “You’ll be expected to understand the layout; we don’t tolerate aimless wandering. If you’re called here for a meeting, know exactly where to go.”

Jake kept his gaze forward, nodding as he absorbed the information, though he could feel his skin prickling under the continued stares of others they passed. Every bounce, every brush against his thigh reminded him how exposed he was, his body on display in the heart of military order and discipline.

Reeve gestured down toward the far end of the corridor. “And at the end, you’ll find the assembly room,” he added. “It’s used for larger gatherings, disciplinary reviews, and formal ceremonies. When it’s time for you to report there, I expect you to be prompt, fully prepared, and attentive.”

Jake swallowed, forcing himself to keep pace, trying to act as though he weren’t acutely aware of every movement his body made. The constant contact of his skin, the chill of the air, and Reeve’s unyielding, matter-of-fact tone all added to the surreal feeling that he was on display for the entire facility.

Reeve continued down the corridor, gesturing toward various doors as they walked. “Over there,” he said, pointing to a door on the right, “that’s the tactical briefing room, used by the strategists. All operation debriefs, planning sessions, and intelligence updates happen in there. You won’t have access without clearance, so don’t wander in.” He turned sharply to another door. “And here’s the inventory office. Equipment, uniforms, supplies—they all go through this department. If you’re assigned duty there, you’ll learn the protocols.”

Jake kept pace, trying to absorb the information despite his frustration. Each step reminded him of his nakedness, and the subtle movements of his body only seemed to amplify his awareness of the cool air and the echoing sounds of footsteps around them.

Reeve gestured again, this time to a doorway just off the main hall. “And here,” he said, a faint smirk crossing his face, “is the primary bathroom for officers and senior staff.” He paused, his eyes lingering on Jake with a calculated look. “But before you get any ideas, you won’t be using this one. For recruits like you, the bathrooms are outside, and in the civilian quarters.”

Jake clenched his jaw, his stomach twisting with irritation. Great. Even the damn bathrooms have rank around here, he thought bitterly, his mind laced with sarcasm. Can’t even take a piss without status.

Reeve’s gaze was unyielding, clearly catching the flicker of frustration in Jake’s face. “But don’t think you won’t be spending any time in here,” he added coolly. “We’ll have you coming in regularly—for upkeep. Scrubbing, washing, sanitizing. This place won’t clean itself, and recruits like you handle those duties.”

Jake held his composure, though a surge of resentment bubbled up inside him. Perfect, he thought, his mind practically spitting. Not allowed to use it, but I get to scrub it down for everyone else. Just brilliant. He forced himself to nod, keeping his expression neutral as he walked on, swallowing the growing bitterness with every step.

As Jake continued down the hall, trying to keep his mind focused on Reeve’s unending list of instructions, he suddenly felt a sharp, unexpected slap across his bare backside. The sound rang out, startling him as a jolt shot through his body, his skin tingling from the contact. He turned quickly, his face flushing as he met the smirking gaze of a soldier who’d just passed by, clearly enjoying Jake’s reaction.

“Yo, new guy,” the man said, his voice dripping with amusement, his eyes lingering in a way that made Jake’s skin prickle. The playful smirk on the man’s face only fueled Jake’s frustration, a flicker of defiance flashing in his eyes. His whole body tensed, and every part of him wanted to retaliate, to demand respect, but he knew he couldn’t risk it—not with Reeve nearby.

Jake’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight as he forced himself to stay silent, swallowing the anger that threatened to break through. The man chuckled, throwing him a casual, almost taunting grin over his shoulder. “Welcome to Camp Harrison,” he added, the words laced with a mocking familiarity.

The unwanted touch and the casual remark stung, heightening Jake’s sense of vulnerability. He let out a restrained sigh, turning his face forward before Reeve could notice his distraction, trying to mask the frustration simmering beneath his surface. But he couldn’t shake the feeling, the tension still hot under his skin as he tried to compose himself.

Reeve, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, continued walking with steady purpose, leading Jake toward the end of the corridor. They reached a set of double doors, and Reeve pushed them open, stepping out into the fresh air of the yard beyond. Jake blinked as the light hit him, the open space a sharp contrast to the enclosed, oppressive corridor. The yard was wide and bordered by tall fences, with sections designated for various drills, and a few groups of soldiers training in the distance.

__
full book link here! (US store)
full book link here! (UK store)
other country, or for other series ;you can simply go to my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum. !

truly enjoy your works! It’s my taste and i love every book. please release all of next part soon on your amazon. I already read all and just can’t wait for next. Don’t leave me here.

 

[Yoyo34566]

ready to support you but don’t get any pressure lol just waiting