Greek Army Jocks - 1. Chapter 1

This was absurd. I had just graduated with a master's, having studied abroad at a prestigious university and had multiple FAANG offers sitting in my inbox. I had a measured IQ that was impossible to specify without sounding like I’m bragging and at 24 years old I had made the most efficient use of my time.

How did my nation plan to reward these efforts and to make use of my immense talents and knowledge? Would they try to recruit me in the intelligence agency? Or perhaps put me in a think-tank with the pure aim of solving the world's problems? Well, no. Instead, they would have me serve in the military, indiscriminately and forcibly, driven by some misguided notion that every person is (or must be) the same, of interchangeable worth and ability, and meant to follow the same path.

I don't think so.

My country had failed me for as long as I could remember, so I had no problem returning the favor. There was no incentive for me to waste my time in the army, to suppress my individuality, which took me years to foster, in order to fit along with the dimwitted and the uncreative or, conversely, to pretend like I was capable of any of the physical tasks of a soldier. Some of us are the brains, not the brawn.

My plan, of course, was to show up on the date of my forced conscription and fail the psychological evaluation spectacularly and indisputably, like many others in my situation have done in the past, so I would be instantly discharged having served exactly 0 days.

When the day came, I got on an early bus, wearing just a backpack with a few vital things – so at least I could pretend like I wasn’t trying to trick the system – along with my laptop so I could make some progress on my newest project during the long drive.

With me on the bus, were a group of guys that I assumed were also being conscripted, though they were much in contrast with me. They all looked to be 18-19, with athletic sunburned bodies. Typical of Greek youths that spend too much time outside at an age when they should be studying. Needless to say, these were not academic types. They were all huddled together over a phone and making obnoxious noises.

I tried to switch my focus back on the screen as I launched a console terminal. I wanted to get an updated version of the rendering library I was using so I got to that.

Typo. ‘gip’ command not recognized.

Typo. Compilation Error.

Ugh. My jaw tightened as I glared at them, thinking that would inform them to be quieter. No such luck. But I must have drawn their attention because one of them walked up to my seat and introduced himself with his hand extended for a handshake, “Hi, I’m John, sorry if we were being too loud.”.

John was not bad looking but not too great either. He was carried by the thick athletic body that he had developed playing teen sports, which from his proximity now to my own, I could sense the heat of, along with more than a hint of sweat and deodorant.

My thoughts drifted back to high school when I was surrounded by boys like John and didn’t have the skills to navigate the complex social challenges of being called a faggot openly in class.

Somehow, they knew. All these young jocks knew I had the hots for them even though I had kept my sexuality a secret up until I was an adult and always made an effort to distract from it.

Greece is an exceptionally homophobic country, competing evenly with the rest of the Balkans, Turkey, and the middle east. I wasn't traditionally masculine, and I was a nerd, which made me essentially a faggot in the eyes of most young Greeks (in my case, of course, they were correct). But after having spent the better part of the last six years flourishing in prestigious institutions of higher learning, amidst highly intelligent and diverse people, I had come out of the shell of my high school years and developed mannerisms and a personality that I wasn’t willing to compromise on.

I was going to be myself.

I shook John’s large, callused hand, uncertain whether he was earnest or meant to intimidate me by coming over. But I didn't care, I told him I would appreciate it if they were quieter for the rest of the ride.

Of course, they weren't.

Eventually the bus halted to a screech. We were out in the middle of nowhere and outside was a furnace oven.

The army base was a sprawling mass of small gray buildings enclosed by high fences with razor wires and fit young army men were sprinkled everywhere.

Here was I, ill-fitting, a skinny nerd with astigmatism being surrounded by tall, young guys who were probably eager to be here and were having the time of their lives getting to play soldier, getting to know each other and bust each other’s testicles in the natural, obnoxious and undeniably hot play of straight dudes.

After a long time of being left out in the sun we were eventually herded inside and led through long, decayed corridors before reaching a larger open room full of medical tools, army men and doctors. There, in line to get a physical screening (that I couldn’t bypass to get to the psychological evaluation), I was forced to listen to the mind-numbing conversations of young straight guys trying to introduce themselves and outdo each other. God they were dumb. And hot.

We were told that we each had to strip to our underwear and stand there (in front of everyone), get our weight and height measured, before getting behind a curtain that the nurse barely bothered to close and get our genitals inspected.

There was a lot of us recruits and the entire room had a strong smell of body odor, pheromones, and the deodorant they all used to cover it up.

I had a “lucky” vantage point from where I stood and enjoyed ogling at more than a few of my army brothers’ young straight dicks. One of them, a particularly handsome rural youth with a mustache and a large piece, noticed me staring as the nurse inspected his equipment, and he got a little embarrassed and angry with me. That did not make me divert my gaze from his beautiful fat cock because I didn’t care to. I wasn’t going to see any of those people ever again in my life (or their cocks, sadly), and I felt like I deserved at least a treat for this laborious process.

In fact, I deserved more than that. I deserved a vacation. Perhaps a week or so at a place where I wouldn’t have to study or think. Somewhere out in nature, ideally surrounded by fit young guys, perhaps— at an army base.

An intriguing plan was forming in my mind. I knew what the army involved: sleeping in the barracks with a dozen other guys in the room, public toilets and showers, lots of sweaty exercise in the morning surrounded by a literal army of fit young men...

For a typical nerd, this was a vision straight out of the ninth circle of hell - but I guess I am a special kind of nerd.

Though extremely unconventional, and a little dangerous, the army could indeed be a fun vacation spot for a starving gay like me. It could only just be for a couple of days and then I’d get back to the real world having made some "fun" memories to think about in my spare time. Regardless, at any point that I wished to leave I had only to complain about literally anything, feign a nervous breakdown and get myself discharged. A win-win.

After the last person was done with their physical, we were all told to put our clothes back on - I guess we had to stay in our underwear out of solidarity – and, after they made us wait (again) for quite some time, they directed us towards the other end of the building where our psychological evaluation would be conducted.

I had to make a quick decision - did I really want to spend the next few days waking up at 6 AM, cleaning toilets and following orders? Again, I looked around and took note of my surroundings - a badly lit hallway filled to the brim with excited, extroverted, sweating, hot dumb Greeks. I was squeezed somewhere in the middle, and it felt like my senses were under attack from all the odor, testosterone and pure male energy.

I found the mustached boy from the physical, he was absentmindedly handling his package through his Adidas sweatpants, having already forgotten about the awkward moment we had shared earlier and having the time of his life with his new army buddies. I knew I couldn't leave just yet. I needed more of it. The army was calling me.

The Doctor conducting the psychological evaluation seemed unlike the more simple-minded army professionals I had seen so far. I could sense from his temperament and the way he scanned me over as he welcomed me inside that I had to be mindful of what I was going to say. He had a paper in front of him that he seemed to have memorized detailing all the little things the state knew about me, including my academic achievements and educational trips abroad.

“Do you want to serve in the army, Peter?”, I was being asked the question directly which I gathered wasn't protocol.

I assume the psychiatrist had seen at least a few cases that fit my profile in the past, and knew people like me weren’t a good fit for the normal operation of an army base, so perhaps he straight forwardly was asking me if I just wanted to be out of here.

I was momentarily stunned. Maybe I did. Then imagery of the dozen or so male genitalia that I had just peaked at through the exam curtain flashed through my mind, just as the disharmonious baritone voices of the young male recruits outside complemented it beautifully.

I smiled politely at the psychiatrist and said, “Of course I do. I would love to serve my country in any way possible.”

As I was saying it, locking eyes confidently with the Doctor, I allowed myself a small pleasure knowing it would leave him perplexed.

I admit to be a bit playful in the way I interact with people who profess to be serious. The psychiatrist may have no doubt been competent and experienced at his profession, but I had always been more than a little offended by the notion that such crude science would presume to assess people that were, by many objective metrics, exceptional.

I studied the Doctor's face for signs of confusion, knowing that they would be there, but I found none.

Instead, he held my gaze in silence for a few seconds with a subtle but growing smirk evident on his thin lips, as if I made him think of a joke, before he simply said “Great!”, signed the paper, handed it to me and shouted for the next guy to come in.

The next hours were interesting. The food and accommodation were terrible -- so I wouldn’t give the Base a high rating on TripAdvisor, on that front. The men, however, did not disappoint.

I don't get easily overwhelmed, but later that evening, in a barracks packed with double bunk beds, scattered clothing and unwashed young recruits, I was blissfully aware of the sensory overload, much in contrast to my stale academic routine.

I was surprised that the comradery and enthusiasm of everyone was freely extended to me, a plainly out of place nerd, which I was happy to reciprocate. Though, intrusive thoughts being what they are, I couldn’t help but find the thought of introducing myself as gay to these young rural Greeks as very amusing. Standing there, some of them in just their underwear as they got ready for bed… I could only imagine their reactions -- but of course, I wasn't going to ruin the positive atmosphere.

I sat on my bed taking in how odd it was to find myself in an army barracks, which was essentially my doing, instead of at the comfort of my home with my laptop at hand (which was taken from me, along with my phone). Besides, I was already more than a little uncomfortable from the close proximity to so many guys in a state of undress, vulgarity and casual immodesty having a shared experience that wasn’t quite for me.

John, too, from the bus, was shirtless when he approached me and extended his hand for another firm shake as if we were buddies now. He walked directly in front of me, through the narrow space between the bunk beds, with his head mostly cut from view as I sat there at level with his abs and happy trail (which I tried not to follow), before sitting next to me on my bed in an uncomfortable (for me) attempt to get to know me. We were apparently going to be bunk mates, with John sleeping on the top bunk directly above me.

He tried to make conversation from which I gathered he was an apprentice mechanic from some island. He was really curious about what I did, and was fascinated by my academic background, bombarding me with several questions, albeit dumb and ignorant, on subjects he clearly knew nothing about and which I tried to answer cordially without over-complicating matters.

While he listened and nodded, though whether he understood I can't say, he kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks then slouched back with his unwashed bare foot over his knee, occasionally touching me with its dirty sole absentmindedly as he gestured. This further challenged the already limited supply of oxygen from around me but a casual disregard for personal space was typical and well ingrained in most young Greek men.

A few minutes later a deep, mature voice boomed through the barracks, 'Lights out, men! You have one minute!' and the recruits, many of whom were still 18 and conditioned to obey authority, scurried to undress the rest of the way, and scamper to their beds.

John, too, got up, stood in the limited space directly in front of me and took off the rest of his clothing, getting down to the briefs he had worn all day. I lifted my legs onto the bed and crossed them so I’d give him freedom to move, though I didn't make any attempt to change where I sat.

Someone, then, walked in, turned off the lights and left, though there was still ample ambient light coming in from outside.

John didn't seem fully aware of the indiscretion of standing with his musky bulge just inches from my face, as he began folding his dirty clothes and looking through his bag which was tossed on the top bunk, making his equipment sway and bounce enticingly in the process. His view was cut from mine, but there were still other people in the room, so I tried to make myself appear casual as I remained seated in an uncomfortably close proximity to another man's genitals. I looked off to the side, avoiding direct contact, though I was still "forced" to inhale John's wonderfully complex aroma, while I waited for him to finish whatever he was doing. I just hoped he wasn't about to take his briefs off, too.

Just then, as he began to hoist himself up, probably having forgotten I was even there, let alone inches from his private parts, he inadvertently smashed his fat bulge against the soft cushion of my face, giving me a few solid seconds of his soft dick pressed against my mouth and covering me with smudges of what I assumed to be ball sweat.

He paused, realizing what had happened, then casually said, 'Oh, sorry man!', before continuing up and getting into bed with the sound of bedsprings strained by the tall Greek's weight.

I looked around, hoping that no one had noticed, or worse, understood my excitement at having my face assaulted by a young straight guy's junk, and after seeing that the coast was clear, I changed into my pajamas and got into my (sterile) sleeping bag which I laid out on top of the bacteria-ridden military bedding.

Exhausted from a long day, most recruits were fast asleep and snoring within a few minutes. The suffocating heat had started to dissipate, and a nice gentle breeze came through the open windows, bringing a necessary amount of clean air to the barracks.

My sleep was counter-intuitively peaceful as well. I was starting to think this experience might be too stress-inducing, but I was surprisingly calm and confident about the situation. John had also pleasantly surprised me (in more than the obvious way) by showing genuine interest in my pursuits and seeming respectful of my achievements. I felt a small pang of guilt for my condescending attitude earlier and began to maybe realize that the few days in the military might have some positive effect in helping me unravel the presumptions I've made about people over my unpleasant childhood years and which I solidly kept unchanged throughout my “academic isolation”.

The next morning was interesting, as well. I had woken up a bit earlier than most (due to my natural anxiety and the fact that I’m used to early study sessions). It took me a moment to realize where I was and to take in my surroundings. The early morning sun peered through the windows and illuminated the barracks and men, still deep in sleep, strewn across their beds in a variety of indecent conditions.

The guy next to me, a larger but fit lad named Kostas (which I overheard), had initially gone to sleep under the covers, like most, but perhaps finding he ran too hot later in the night, he had at some gotten out of them. I found him sprawled on his back, with his arms up, legs splayed and his underwear riding low on one hip, revealing a thick patch of pubic hair. It was a strangely intimate sight.

While I woke up in the fixed supine position I always slept in, most guys, like Kostas, were in a similar care-free state of dishevelment. Typical of inconsiderate young men that valued comfort over modesty, but I wasn’t complaining.

John's hairy foot dangled off the top bunk, hanging over my face when I sat up. Though, as the whole barracks smelled like dirty feet, I couldn't be upset.

As I got up and headed to the toilets, passing through two large connected rooms stacked with young sleeping men to reach them, I was quick to spot more than a few of my fellow army brothers tenting their briefs, and took a moment to appreciate those that were particularly well-endowed, like the handsome rural jock from the medical exam, whom I found sleeping like a baby with an unmissable large dick print on his sexy boxers. Though insubstantial by comparison, mine wasn’t any less stiff by the time I got to the bathroom.

It was an unusual sight that I would sadly never get used to.

It was still early, before the morning rush, yet the toilets reeked of stale urine – unchecked by even the faintest trace of a disinfectant. The odor had a quality as it lingered in my nostrils, asserting a raw masculine carelessness that unsettled yet intrigued me.

I stepped into a stall -- not because anyone else was present, but because the urinals were a primitive denial of privacy that made me feel exposed in a way that was unwarranted.

The stall had no seat, only a hole in the ground -- a Turkish toilet, which is the norm in the Greek army, and no functioning lock on the door.

I squatted to relieve myself, unwilling to contribute to the high entropy by having it spray, and, holding the wooden wall to steady myself, since even brushing against the porcelain was out of the question, I was able to relax and let go once my arousal had finally subsided (which, while not a nocturnal erection, was amusingly caused by the other men's morning wood).

Just as I was finishing, someone else entered the restroom. I remained squatted over the toilet, my pants down to my ankles, as the man approached the urinal just outside my stall, bumping carelessly into the wooden partition separating us in the process. This caused a flimsy piece of wood, approximately at my eye-level, that was loosely adhered to the wall, to dislodge and fall away, exposing a small gap through which the recruit could be clearly seen. My heart raced as I inadvertently caught a glimpse of his cock, inches from my face, letting loose a powerful stream.

I panicked thinking he might notice the opening and choose to investigate, finding me crouched inside the stall, sitting quietly with my pants down, evidently getting off from seeing him piss. Fumbling, I looked for the piece that had fallen off, intent on reinstalling it before he saw anything, but in my anxious state, I mishandled it as I was putting it back, sending it tumbling to the other side where it landed near his flip-flops.

I froze, not able to breathe for a moment, dreading his reaction. The torrent of his piss was all that could be heard, and, hopefully, it had drowned out all the noise I had made. When I thought it safe, I dared to look again. Careful to obscure the light between my face and wall with my hand, I peered through the opening, avoiding his plump manhood as he was giving it a shake, and studied his face to ascertain whether he saw.

I found him looking up at the ceiling, oblivious, clad only in the underwear he had pulled down under his private parts, with one hand tugging at his cock while the other toyed aimlessly with his large balls. His darker complexion suggested he might be of non-Greek descent -- possibly an Albanian immigrant, judging from the size of his uncircumcised instrument.

I was more than a little disgusted with myself as a voyeuristic impulse took over and I couldn’t stop examining the clueless recruit’s fat member, my baser instincts clearly starved for what this visual stimulation provided. It scared me to realize how quickly I could be reduced to a pathetic mindless entity without agency by the sight of another man’s cock.

The moment lasted mere seconds before he gave it a few final shakes and tucked himself away, leaving a wet stain on his briefs where his cockhead rested. He then exited the restroom without bothering to wash his hands.

Once the room was silent again, I stepped out of my stall, and, moving quickly to avoid anyone catching me, I retrieved the fallen wooden piece and secured it back in place, erasing any trace of the little feature in the wall that I had accidentally discovered.

I was making my way back to my bunk bed just as a Sergeant stormed into the barracks, as if on his third espresso, with a loud and offensive voice.

"Wake up your lazy asses, men!", he had a rural accent that created a useful ambiguity over his level of civility.

The recruits, many of whom I had ogled in their sleep only a few minutes ago, jolted awake and scrambled to their feet, suddenly realizing where they were. Some fumbled for their fatigues and boots, while others, too groggy to care, stood at attention in just their underwear. Needless to say, I kept my gaze glued to the floor as I hurried back to my things to change into the proper attire without drawing any attention.

The Sergeant continued barking orders. "Don't just stand there, idiots! Get dressed, fold your beds, piss if you have to, and line up outside! Ten minutes!" With that, he marched out, leaving the recruits to their fate.

Some stared blankly at their disheveled beds, unsure how to fold them, while others struggled with their uniforms and boots. Despite the rude treatment from their superior, there was an uncontained excitement in the air for their first day in the army, which almost made me laugh - as many of these men that were acting tough and mature yesterday, now seemed eager and anxious to prove themselves – for an entirely meaningless pursuit, I thought – though, I allowed the possibility that there may be factors in their perspective that I was missing.

There was a distinct strive for dominance that I had observed in males since early childhood, and which became particularly overt during middle school, a behavior that whether instinctual or developed had never resonated with me. I knew that this environment, where such behavior was perhaps encouraged, would inevitably target me and that an intellectual retort would not suffice. I must have convinced myself otherwise during my time in university – that thought trumped everything, but I was becoming disillusioned over that now.

John was shockingly still asleep when I got to my bed. Kostas, whom I happened upon in the process of changing his underwear and displaying his hairy, muscular ass to everyone, motioned for me to wake John so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

I hesitated, unsure how to rouse him when the Sergeant’s voice had failed. I didn’t feel comfortable touching him while he slept so I tried to speak up but, as the commotion in the room was drowning out my voice, I had to settle by nudging his dangling foot, which seemed like the least intrusive option. "John, wake up! You need to get ready!”

Since I didn’t want my hand to tickle him, I ended up gently rubbing John’s large foot even as I tried to make my voice louder.

He eventually stirred, his face puffy and dazed, looking at me with a boyish expression that I found almost endearing. "Oh… what tiiime is it?", he mumbled, yawning mid-sentence.

"It’s time to get up, John! You need to dress and make your bed, fast," I told him, my voice came out more effeminate than I intended and I was becoming painfully aware of the other people around me. The act of waking John felt intimate, and I didn’t want to appear overly invested, already finding myself regressing to an earlier, more repressed, version of me. But then, I wondered – why did I care so much what any of these ignorant men thought?

"Thank, bro," he murmured, as he sat up and rubbed the sleep off his face. John was no doubt handsome, though not in a way that I might have paid attention had it been in any other circumstance. But, in this state of vulnerability and half-nakedness, he looked borderline irresistible.

I lingered, ostensibly to ensure he didn’t fall back to sleep, but really, I couldn't bring myself to leave.

He lifted his leg over my head with a degree of caution, perhaps mindful of last night’s “unfortunate” incident. Though, again, oblivious to the indecency of splaying his hairy thighs and presenting me with an uncomfortably close view of his chubby bulge, well accentuated by his briefs that had ridden up. I was shocked to see the swollen shape of his morning wood through the thin material, snaking down his leg and almost threatening to make an appearance outside.

His movements may have been clumsy and innocent, but the positions he unwittingly assumed were anything but.

Repositioning his other leg over the bed, on my other side, and sitting himself on the edge, he unintentionally trapped me between his thighs in the narrow space between the bunks, and, before I could step back or duck away, apparently thinking that the margin was sufficient or that I would move away, John leaned forward to hoist himself down, flexing his abs and thrusting his hips in one smooth motion. As he did so, inattentive to the situation in his underwear, the friction with the bed made his briefs ride further up, causing the head of his cock to slip out, which then overpowered the fabric and exposed his dick and balls in their entirety – as they followed a predictable trajectory right towards my face.

Nothing could have prepared me as my nose and lips were momentarily engulfed in the sweaty, bare mass of his balls and cock, which painted my cheeks with a wetness as it slid off to the side and hid itself from other people’s view, forcing me to confront the richness of John’s clammy manhood.

In a panic, I jerked back, slamming the back of my head against the bed frame as John got the rest of the way down.

The pain in my skull barely registered over our full-body contact as he planted his feet on the ground, pressing into me, as his bare chest radiated a warmth that was somehow bypassing my clothing, and met my hand rubbing the back of my head with a concerned look.

"Wow, are you alright?", John’s voice pulled me back to the present. We were facing each other, and I could feel his breath tease my face as he spoke, which was somehow even more intimate from our arrangement just seconds before. Although I was cognizant that my face smelled like his junk.

The other recruits had disappeared from my view.

"Yeah, I am okay. It was my fault, sorry," I said quickly wanting to reassure him. For some reason, I patted his back, which was bare and warm under my palm, almost as if to keep him there but it felt natural.

"Oh, man, what must you think of me? It’s twice that I almost hurt you with my..." And he gestured down, as if I needed clarification, and realized in shock that his cock had escaped the confines of his briefs and was pressed, obscenely swollen and pointing straight up, against my body in the tight space between us.

The tent it formed was impossible to ignore, even as he withdrew his hips back and tried to tuck it back inside.

I interjected hastily, after gulping down a pool of spit that had accumulated in my mouth, not wanting to make him too self-conscious, "No need to apologize, John. It's fine. Better get dressed because you don’t have much time!"

He nodded, all previous events vanishing from his memory, and rushed to get himself ready, realizing the importance that the first day in the army held for him.

If anyone else had seen our interaction, I couldn’t tell. I quickly glanced around, and everyone seemed well preoccupied. More than a few recruits changed in full view of everyone, some even taking a moment to strut and talk to each other - their lack of modesty bordering on pride, but I didn’t care.

I kept stealing glances at John as I made my bed with precision. He didn’t bother putting on clean underwear, probably a wise choice in his current state, and just slipped into his newly issued military clothes before speeding for the restroom.

Seeing the time and realizing he wouldn’t be able to make his bed, I took it upon myself to fold his sheets after finishing my own.

When he returned, his face lit up with gratitude. “Thanks for helping me out, man,” he said with an easy smile before pulling me into a bro hug.

“No worries, John! It’s my pleasure,” I replied, the words more genuine than I expected.

Whether it was the repeated imprinting of his potent pheromones on my face or simply his natural charm, I found myself increasingly fond of him.

As the recruits began filing out, I followed beside him. I looked up at his manly, freshly washed face, smiling and brimming with excitement and thought I could allow myself to become invested, if only for a few more days.