Quit Smoking By Hypnosis

No characters under eighteen. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is ridiculous as this is complete fiction. There's a bit of incest between sisters, but only in passing. if that bothers you, then skip this story. This little story reminds us that our men and women in uniform give up their lives for us. They deserve our respect and our thanks at a minimum. Please keep your comments civil, Thank you.

Quit Smoking By Hypnosis

Wife is cheating on her crazy husband. She's getting more brazen about it. But she don't know her man very well.

☆☆☆☆☆ ~~~☆☆☆☆☆

The tall well-dressed man droned on. "-A former Army officer who served three tours in the middle east, he suffers from PTSD from his frequent near misses in multiple 'life-and-death' firefights. The humvee he was riding in got hit by a rocket propelled grenade. It exploded all around him. He had awful shrapnel wounds, but he had somehow survived," the politician spoke to the crowd.

"All his close friends were not so lucky. He healed from his multiple wounds. His dire psychological wounds, not so much. He just dealt with it as best he could. He returned to his unit. His company was hit by rockets and mortar fire. One round missed him by just a few feet, only by the grace of God he survived again with more shrapnel souvenirs in his body. He lost his hearing for a few days. His unit took a terrible beating, as they were badly outnumbered. They had many, many casualties. They had trouble just getting the injured men onto the rescue choppers." The President looked at me in awe.

"It was during this terrible firefight he had shown that he was a true hero. He single handedly held off a force of about a hundred insurgents with a big fifty caliber machine gun. He was shot seven times, can you imagine getting shot seven times? Yet he still fought tooth and nail, never giving up, never giving in! He gave them hell.

"He kept firing on the enemy. He drew their fire away from the wounded. His wounded men were able to be airlifted to safety. Unfortunately, his leg got shot up so badly it had to be amputated below the knee. He won several medals for his bravery. By the end of his service, he had eight purple hearts and five medals for bravery, including a silver star for gallantry above and beyond the call of duty. He had personally retrieved at least THIRTY men under withering small arms fire. He was directly responsible for many of those wounded men not dying. He did all this while he was bleeding from being shot himself. I stand in awe of his dedication, determination and true grit under fire.

"As far as I am concerned, this man is a true American hero." The president finally finished his speech. He put the award around my neck. I was shocked. "Thank you Major George Fitzgerald Nesbith. This is from a very grateful nation." He saluted ME, and shook my hand. Wow. The crowd erupted in applause and finally a true standing ovation. My guys were screaming their heads off for me. For all of this, I still did not think that I was a damn hero. As the single commanding officer, I held myself accountable for the large number of wonderful men that DID NOT COME HOME ALIVE. THEY WERE AND ALWAYS WILL BE THE TRUE HEROS. Not me. I hope they don't court martial me.

I thought about some of the guys I dragged back to safety. I felt deeply honored by their thanks. A man saying "Thanks!" is ten thousand times better than any damned medal. That thirty or forty guys blamed you... for them being alive... that was a special award indeed. Screw the damn medal. These guys were alive! I thanked God for that. For that, I am eternally grateful. I believe the Good Lord had sent his angels to help me with fetching these wounded soldiers. I don't know how I could have done it without help from the holy spirit. I am amazed at what they say that I accomplished. I feel like they must have exaggerated it somehow.

One thing was the hard truth. I had made myself the "annoying" target to give my wounded men a fighting chance to get airlifted out. My stupid plan worked... well, somewhat. But there was still great loss of life. I had done my best and too many good men still perished in that awful firefight. I hope I sent as many of the bad guys to meet Allah as I could. I was gut shot. I really thought I was done at the end and I was going to meet Jesus. I was very shocked to wake up, still alive, but with lots more holes in me.

~~~~~₩₩¥₩₩~~~~~

A long time before I got to meet the President... Years and years before that...

I was released on a medical discharge, with full honors of course. My poor body had so many schrapnel and bullet holes in it, it was ridiculous. I must have a very strong resemblance to Swiss cheese. The Good Lord had decided to keep me around for a while longer. There is no other explanation, but for the fact that my brave men got my dumb ass back to some truly talented doctors before I expired. I am very grateful for all of that. I never did find out who dragged me back. I owe someone a debt of gratitude.

*************

Now finally back home, I got a decent job, but it came with some occasional long days now and then. I smoked to calm my nerves. I smoked a lot. Two packs a day. Well, sometimes I smoked three packs on a particularly bad day. My emotions were all over the place. I was very fucked up in the head.

One day, I finally realized my wife Sharon was cheating on me. It upset me greatly, and now I was smoking up to three packs a day, all the fuckin' time. I didn't know what to do.

One of my men when we served had started a private detective agency, and he followed my darling wife for several weeks. He did the job correctly. I got photos of her trysts and videos on the cell phone for the courtroom drama sure to come. My wife's very bad behavior had hurt me deeply. I had loved Sharon deeply, and I thought she loved me the same way. Apparently not. So be it. Done is done.

I decided to go see the hypnotist that helped several of my friends quit smoking and another friend quit drinking, sort of (at least for now). The guys name was Nelson. James Nelson. Everyone said he was an ok hypnotist. I had no basis for comparison, only my high hopes for the best. Sometimes hope is all we have. Hope and faith.

I definitely want to quit smoking. The hypnotist hypnotized me easily and he realized what a life of hell I was enduring. James also found out he's from the same small town as me.

"George!" He snapped his fingers as an obvious signal.

"I'm awake, I'm awake." I felt quite a bit better for no apparent reason.

"George, I gave you all the regular post hypnotic anti-smoking suggestions. At this point though, smoking was the least of your worries."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, PTSD and a dirty, lousy cheating wife make for an explosive combination. You are too well trained in the many ways and means to kill people quickly and efficiently. You could take those two idiots out in seconds with your bare hands. I am a bit surprised that you have shown such self-control and forgiveness to these two assholes. I dont know that I would have been as gracious and kind as you have been."

"My wife and her boyfriend have no idea who they are dealing with. They are playing with a high explosive device... me." I spoke to the very concerned man. "Can you help me with my issues?"

"Some of it, yes, I think I can offer you some relief. But your problems are deeply entrenched. You really need someone trained in this sort of thing. You need a good shrink."

"Ok, ok. But I am very pleased with your results from just one session. Can we continue our hypnosis sessions? I feel like I made a good start here. I will try to find a good shrink to help me with all my issues."

So hopefully the hypnotist could help me a bit. I didn't want to become a monster from this horrible experience. I didn't want to be a murderer and then be forced to explain why I killed my children's mom and her boyfriend. Plus life in prison did not appeal to me at all. The hypnotist offered me a bit of a third alternative to either fight or flight. I hope a psychiatrist can help me with all my problems.

We chatted. James asked me if I would like to try some deep hypnosis to remedy some of my more serious problems. James can't really fix anything, but he can help me cope a bit better with a sort of mental "suit of armor" psychologically speaking. I can mentally put it on or take it off as it is needed. Like a firewall in a computer. I was pretty skeptical about this approach. However, it didn't seem too onerous or even a little bit dangerous. So, why not try it? I didn't have any better ideas.

We got through the difficult process. James explained that PTSD is very difficult to treat, and he can only help me symptomatically, because the root cause was the severe trauma I suffered during the combat and it is now buried deep in my psyche by my own brain to save me. My brain had basically grown scar tissue on top of the horrible memories that made it more difficult to get to the problem areas. My brain simply buried my personal problems as it were. This affected my regular memory and to a lesser extent my personality.

To recover totally, I would have to bring the terrible memories up from where they're buried and deal with them now, conquer them now, so it can never bother me ever again. That's a tall order, and it might not work either, only because of force of habit. The scars are very deep and long lasting.

"So youre saying it's like scar tissue on a wound?" I asked. "It would all need to be fully removed before true healing could begin?" I asked him.

"Exactly. George, when you are strong enough, physically and emotionally, you can go back and face the horrors of your past. The fact that you survived and saved so many wounded soldiers means that you are exceedingly brave, but you reached your own top 'anguish' level. You just had no more to give in a horrible life and death situation. It can cause your brain to shut down... only temporarily- to save you." I thought that was some kind of psycho-bullshit.

"What happens if you max out like that?" I asked.

"Your brain shuts down, kinda like a computer that reboots itself. You dump info that you cannot deal with at that moment... There were bullets and bombs going off, so you were operating at survival skill levels. But all that crap you could not deal with... it's still there, in a mental box that you don't ever want to open. You know it's bad, so you just never think about it. To remember all the horrors and deal with it now... if you are strong enough. That's how you overcome PTSD, but be aware... You might never lose your "self defense" triggers. They saved your life, so you cling to them. I know men, brave men, that hear a loud noise and they are instantly under the table looking around for their weapons. Those defense mechanisms saved your life!" I never thought about the way I jumped at loud noises like that. It was pure reflex, like muscle memory. It had saved my life, in battle.

"My suggestion is build a new mental box with a good strong door, but you can open it up or close it. Keep all your mental 'survival gear' in that box! What do you think?" James made a suggestion.

"I have no better ideas. What do I do to overcome the terrible things I saw? They eat away at me." I had recurring nightmares that I couldn't get away from, and woke up screaming.

"Greive for your fallen friends, one at a time. Say prayers for their souls and move on. Remember that they are in a better place now. Some guys write stories about how funny or fucked up their friends were. Just remember them and pray for their souls. One guy at a time. Just one guy at a time. Otherwise it gets to be too much. George, can you keep them in your heart, your friends that perished?"

"I can't stop seeing how they died." I explained. "It was horrific beyond belief. It pains me to even speak of it. But the worst part is that I was incapable of saving those brave men." Tears came rolling down my cheeks that I couldn't stop. There was nothing I could do to stop my friends from perishing. I had tried. I had tried repeatedly to save my men. But I couldn't do it, as the machine gun fire took their lives, and damn near took mine as well. As it was, it was miraculous that I had somehow survived this huge meatgrinder battle at all. So many good men had perished.

"They don't want to be remembered for how they died! They only want to be remembered for how they LIVED! Would YOU want folks to only remember how you died? No thoughts as to how you lived your life?" the hypnotist asked me. I had to mull it over for a minute or two, but he was 100% right.

"You're absolutely right, Jim. I do remember a lot of the good things, the stupid jokes and pranks, even the dumb fights. Some of the guys were just hilarious. Several were just this side of being in jail. Quite a few guys were family men. I had nothing but full respect for those guys."

"Remember, think about only one guy at a time. Deal with the horrors a little bit at a time. Pray for their souls. You cannot do this all at once; it will shut you down again. Do not dwell on their deaths, but on the great guys they were, remember what they did. Remember for them what's really important. Not the horrific manner of their death, but how these great guys lived, what they stood for, what they loved and liked. What kind of men these guys were. THAT'S WHAT THEY WANT TO BE REMEMBERED FOR, don't you think?"

"Yes, you're absolutely right. I can do that. I can rid myself of all this garbage in my mind, by taking out the trash a bit at a time. I can do that." This was a revelation. I could do this, a little bit at a time, kinda like baby steps... but I could certainly acomplish this task. I owed it to their memories. It might be time consuming, but if it helped me with some of my mental issues, then it was absolutely worth every damn minute of effort. For that matter, my men deserved to be remembered for what they were... terrific men doing their best in a hellish battle.

"We're going to take small steps, just a bit at a time. Don't try to think too much, you can get overwhelmed." Jim cautioned me.

The hypnotist also mentioned survivors guilt. To get past these difficult things, I must confront them and conquer them in my own mind. He talks about therapy. He mentions a shrink. All this is well beyond the skills of a hypnotist. Post hypnotic suggestions can only do so much. For the rest, I will still need a professional.

We spend several hours on and off going through deep hypnosis and learning new coping strategies to help with the PTSD and survivors guilt. Just the conversations and hypnosis seemed to help me quite a bit.

By the end of the session, I was feeling way better than before. I decided to address my wife's really bad behavior. One thing at a time.

@@@@@@O@@@@@@

"So you freely admit that you're cheating on me with that guy! Really? How long have you been cheating on me Sharon?" I asked my wife straight out.

"Not that you really care George, but about ten years now. I stayed with you only because you're a good provider, plus you have loved me totally unconditionally for all these years. Just because you don't have as nice a penis as him doesn't mean you are without redeeming qualities." Sharon liked to cut me where it hurt a man, in his sexual performance. But I was learning how to ignore her little jibes.

"Ten YEARS!? Are you kidding me? Why did you even stay with me? You should have made a life with him. I guess you realize we are divorcing."

"You won't ever divorce me because nobody else wants to be with a head case like you. You would lose in court and wind up living all alone." She said it like it was a big triumph for her. Sharon doesn't realize that she has lit the fuse on the explosive charge to end this horrible marriage.

Sharon said the terrible words I needed to hear, to galvanize me into finally really doing something about my loveless marriage. It was high time. I suppose I should have done this many years ago, but I had so many other pressing problems to deal with. Better late than never.

Since I was recording the conversation I just wanted her to admit her real feelings.

"Wait, I don't understand. You only stay with me for the money and emotional support that I give you? No other real reasons? You don't love me at all? Try to be honest here, for once in your life. Sharon, I really need to know. I need to hear you actually say it to my face. I have loved you all these years but you only love your dirty, cheating, fuckin paramour?" I was staggered by her answers.

"Yeah, that's about right. So what? I've kept this place clean, put meals on the table, raised two great kids. I put up with your PTSD, jumping at every loud noise. Do you know how many times you grabbed me by the throat and was about to strangle me, when you finally came to your senses? That's gotta count for something. George, I've held you, and fucked you, and loved you... even though you acted fucking crazy for years and years. I took care of you as best I could. You have been so fucked up, but I stayed, hoping you would get better. You have not. You even got worse there for a while. I don't know if you can ever change. George, I'm tired. He has been good to me. He cares about me. Do you? I am about done here." She was now finally admitting to her true inner feelings. This divorce would be good for both of us, I am sure now.

"Thing is, he is so much better in the bedroom than you will ever be. He's-" I gave her a murderous look. She finally thought that she might be playing with fire. At least she was truthful. Sharon shut up about how great her secret boyfriend is in bed. I really did not need to hear that shit.

I interrupted her description of her wonderful new man. "-Maybe you would do better living with that lover of yours instead of me. If you don't love me, hell, I don't think you even LIKE me, then we need to just move on." She seemed to agree with me on that last point.

"I'm going to file next week. You should think about where you want to go. I will put the house up for sale. You need to pick out what stuff you want to keep. I'll be back tomorrow after I meet with the lawyer. Good luck to you, Sharon. I hope you and Mr. Wonderful have a great life." I did hope that she found some happiness in her life.

"By the way, the love and affection and appreciation for your good deeds in our marriage doesn't extend to your lover. If you bring him into this house, I will kill him. You know me. He sets foot in this house and I will open the cage door for the monster in me. If you doubt me, just try it and find out the hard way." I had a look of death on my face. I hope she understands that I am not bluffing at all.

There really is a monster inside me that fights all my physical battles for me. He has killed countless men without even the slightest hesitation. The monster would kill her paramour in ten seconds flat and not think twice about it. I keep him under lock and key in my brain. He's too dangerous to let wander around. Talk about a loose cannon.

"Wait, George, you're gonna fuckin divorce ME? If you do that, you'll lose in court. You'll wind up living in a cardboard box somewhere." She seemed to have a practiced speech about what would become of me. More fucking bullshit. I recognized it for what it is. "Controlling bullshit". Just her verbal leash on her broken husband.

Too bad it no longer had any effect on me. The leash was gone. The truth had set me free... well, sort of. My eyes were open now.

"Yeah, like you give a shit about how I will live. Thank you for the children. By the way, are they really MY own children? I think I need to get DNA tests done, because I have no idea how long you've been unfaithful to me. This divorce should make you very happy, you can be with your new man twenty-four-seven. You won't ever have to deal with my mental issues again. Hell, you ought to be dancing. I gotta get outa here." I moved towards the door.

Her face dropped. It was like Sharon finally realized that we were DONE, and I was really

leaving. I didn't wait around for her epiphany, as she had shown zero remorse and absolutely no love for me whatsoever, so why wait? This train wreck of a marriage was over, just a matter of separating our entwined lives once and for all.

There would be pain involved, but I could handle pain pretty well. I had lots of practice over the many years. Pain is my old friend.

I don't know if she seriously understands real pain. I think she might get a small taste of pain when she and I finally get divorced. Who knows? Maybe not. Perhaps Sharon will be dancing in a red dress when that day arrives.

I actually felt relieved to be done with the final serious confrontation. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders and when I walked outside, it was a new day, the sun was shining. It felt like things were looking up. It almost felt like I had been given a huge sign from above. Who am I to argue with the almighty? He knows what's best for me, I am sure. I put one foot in front of the other. Yes, the memories of Sharon were very painful, but I had tried to reconcile with the bitch for the very last time. It was time for me to move on with my life. Time to ditch the bitch.

I wondered what I would do with the rest of my life? He has kept me alive through a living hell, so He must have some plan for me. I still remember what I had heard in church one-time. "Don't worry about it. This too shall pass. " I firmly believed that to be 100% true. Someone spoke and said, "If He brings you to it, He will bring you through it!" I sincerely hope that one is true and correct. I just continued to put one foot in front of the other. I needed to have more faith. I had survived that hell-fire party when so many good men did not. God must have a plan for me. I just need to recognize it and not fuck it up.

########

I was very lucky. I found a shelter run by, and for... other wounded veterans. I was just staying there temporarily.

I had my own little cubby hole. It was smaller than a dorm room, but I felt safe with all the other vets around me.

We would look out for each other 100%. That means a lot to someone who jumps at loud noises. That ability had saved me countless times in battle situations, but it's not really needed in your home. The thing is, I couldn't shut it off! Being in the nice quiet outdoors, I felt so much more at ease. The crickets, the wind in the trees, even the water in the tiny creek... all gentle sounds, soothing.

We had a real revile at 0600; we had morning pt, except of course, that this was all fully voluntary. Every single guy showed up anyway! We just did a normal pt, but it felt good to stretch out the old muscles, and get fresh air. I managed to do fifty push ups. That was a good thing. I surprised myself! The guys clapped at me doing that many push-ups. I used to be able to do a hundred, but that was then. I'm getting old I guess.

I still showed up to work. These days I was much more relaxed, I had my mental suit of armor that I could use any time I needed too. Not having to deal with the evil bitch had a marvelous effect on my outlook and my behavior. I actually smiled. I hadn't done that for years, except for my kid's triumphs. Now I was smiling all the time. People noticed my improvement. I got a few passing glances from women, but I doubt it means anything more than idle curiosity.

At work I met a strange man.

His name was Charles Jamison. He was a history professor from the University. He desperately wanted to speak with me about my time in the war, and that last terrible firefight that damn near killed me. I felt as if I knew him when we spoke.

We met the next day at the VFW post in town. He looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. Maybe we had crossed paths somewhere before? I don't know. My memories were all so very messed up, gaps of missing information is seemingly permanently gone from my brain. Not much I could do about it either. How does one recover lost memories? I wish I knew.

We had a beer and a damn good cheeseburger. He asked me what happened that awful day. My smile left my face. I hate talking about that awful day.

"Dr. Jamison, please don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't want to dredge up those horrible memories. I lost so many good men that day. I have spoken with many shrinks and they all say the wonderful guys that got killed that day... We should all remember them for their great lives and not just their tragic deaths. I have to deal with those hellish times in my own mind. Was there anything else I could have done to stop the carnage? Could I have saved any more guys? I have to answer those questions with no answers, because the guys under my command deserve the best answers that I can give to them. Their loved ones need to know how great their men were. I was in charge that day, and I think I should have been court martialed for not doing a better job of running things." I had real tears in my eyes.

"Is that really what you think George? I suspect that there's an element of survivors guilt. I have spoken to over fifty of the men in your unit. To a man, they all praise you for everything you did that day. Many of them are determined to see you get the credit you deserve for your truly heroic actions that day. Is it true that you held off a force of at least a hundred well armed men single-handedly, and fetched at least thirty-two guys back to the rescue choppers? You did this ALL BY YOURSELF? Allowing those injured men a chance to get out safely? I have forty guys who swear to me that's why they are alive, thanks to your solo attack. I have another hundred men that say you saved them in one way or another." He looked at me in awe. He looked so familiar. Another man joined us with a very loud Hawaiian shirt. I definitely knew this guy, but I couldn't remember his name. My memory is definitely fucked up since my time in the military. No doubt this was part of the emotional scars messing up my regular memories. Fucked up hellish wartime memories.

"Ohmygod, you make it sound like I'm some kind of hero. There are plenty of men that gave every last bit of life... dead before their time... who gave much more than me. I had to do it. For me to not attempt to hold back those fuckers... I just had to..." I burst into tears. "I couldn't save everyone. I had a fifty caliber gun going nonstop. I was drawing their attention away from the choppers, making them worry about me instead. In the end I nearly melted off the barrel of the weapon, it was so hot. I ran out of ammo for the fifty.

"I'd get to a guy, pick him up and drag him back, and I would go back a different way hopefully to fool the sons of bitches. Kept finding these wonderful guys all shot up, and I would run 'em back as quickly as possible and get back to the fight.

I used mortars, I used machine guns, I threw lots and lots of grenades. I think I used every trick in the book. I rigged up claymores and prayed that I would remember where I put them. I did everything I could think of to save our guys. I took a few rounds, but I had to keep going..." I was weeping as I spoke, and I was sweating like crazy, even in the super cold air-conditioning.

The guy in the loud shirt said, "You took at least seven rounds. That's only what they picked out of you. There were more bullet holes from the 'through and through' hits you took. Not to mention your leg..." he looked at my prosthetic leg. How the fuck did he know about that? I was hoping that nobody would notice my fake leg. It was a damn fine prosthetic leg.

"Doc, there was nobody else to do it. I finally got hit real bad in the belly and I knew that's it, I am done. I was sure I was dead. I felt really good knowing that I had done my level best for my guys. I tried my heart out until I got gut shot. Then I prayed for my men. I hoped God was in a forgiving mood." I tried to make them understand what I had done in an effort to save my guys.

"Imagine my surprise when I woke up in a nice German hospital. My knee was pretty bad, but they fixed it. My lower leg was gone, so they gave me a new one. They discharged me on a medical, but I always thought that they were trying to ease me out... and avoid press coverage of an ugly court-martial. The medals I received in the mail, I thought they made a big mistake. I never went to the medal ceremonies. I just couldn't go. I was gonna send back those nice medals as a mistake, but four different people told me to just keep them."

Hawaiian shirt spoke up, "Well I for one consider you a great hero. So do all of your men. You were given wrong information that day. They don't have any idea of how many men you faced that day, but they seem to think it was almost TWO hundred. It was at very least over a hundred. They think you may have killed at least seventy bad guys, possibly up to ninety men. You were severely injured twice that day. On top of that, you rescued between thirty-five and forty-two men, not counting the others who got on the choppers only because of your little crazy personal war. I think you are the bravest man I have ever met. How is the leg?"

"It's fine. I was hoping that you would not notice. These new prosthetics are much more comfortable than the old ones." I replied. I know this man from somewhere.

"Captain, I heard some bad news about your wife." He spoke in a low tone. Oh gees. I wonder if everyone knew about my shame. I guess some honesty was in order.

"Well hell." I responded, "She put up with me for some reason, for many, many years. We are finally separated and getting a divorce. I wish her well," I don't my do dirty laundry in public. Not even when I'm pretty sure I'm in the right. "Sharon deserves her happiness even if it's not with me. She had such glowing reviews for her lover... I hope she's happy now." I told the guys.

"What does she know about what happened to you?" Asked the doctor.

"Nothing. I never told her a damn thing. It was too nasty and way too gory for her, you know? It was bad enough for one of us to have those terrible, horrible memories. If she finds out all that shit that happened to me, it would just upset her." I shook my head.

"She says that I'm a head case. I guess I am. I am still dealing with my failures and the deaths caused by me. I hope my guys can forgive me for my mistakes. I did my very best." I wept once more. As I looked around, I suddenly realized there were at least twenty of my former guys standing all around us, giving me salutes, and shaking my hand. Every single man expressed his gratitude for saving his life in one way or another. I had hug after hug from my old friends. This was very nice, seeing some of the guys I had helped. THEY WERE ALIVE! That's all that really mattered to me. These guys were all breathing!

Some tall brass hat showed up and did a "for-real" salute and he handed me a big manilla envelope. I opened it, and there was my gang in action and a picture of me firing up the fifty cal at the end of the photo show. How on earth did that picture ever get taken? There was some official looking thing. Today they were awarding me the Medal of Honor. I was in shock. WTF? Me!? Can't be right. They got the wrong guy.

"THE MEDAL OF HONOR?!" I gasped. Someone messed up. I should not be getting any kind of award.

"There must be some kind of mistake. I don't deserve this!" I was totally messed up. "Someone must have fucked up really badly here."

"The hell you say. I was your staff sargent, and I am still amazed at what you went out and did. I owe you my life. I was one of the many, many guys who would not be here except for your efforts. Don't you remember me? I'm Ray Dexter now, but back then they called me Hells Bells Dex. You just called me Top."

"Sorry Top, my apologies. I never saw you in a Hawaiian shirt before. Plus a lot of us have filled out a bit. I myself included." I patted his full stomach and my own. We both laughed.

"I am grateful to see so many of the guys doing ok." I meant still alive. Everything else was gravy. Alive was the main thing.

"These guys? We're just the welcoming committee. You want to take a walk outside? There's a few more guys who came a very long way to see you," he explained. Well now I had to go outside and say hi to all the guys. It was the least I could do for those terrific men.

I walked out of the front door and there they were... standing in a formation and as I watched the hundred guys split into two groups to allow a guy surrounded by secret service agents to walk up to me. There were flashing lights and video cameras. I was being quickly and hurriedly manhandled into a dress uniform at the last second by four very efficient soldiers. Damn if they didn't get me into my new, slightly larger dress uniform. Then there he was, the president of the United States of America. Why on earth was he here? To see me? That seemed so insane to me.

He was addressing the crowd. "Too long has this bad situation been unresolved. Today we make things right for a man of honor, fully deserving of this token of our grateful nation. I have taken the liberty of promoting him as well, so let me introduce MAJOR George Fitzgerald Nesbitt." The president gave ME a letter perfect salute. I must be dreaming. The president turned to the crowd and read a statement about what I did during that last battle. He saw me weeping and he asked me why. I told him the unvarnished truth.

"For all the men I failed. So many good men perished in the firefight. I couldn't save them all. I tried my very best. Those wonderful men who died really deserve this medal way more than I do sir. I failed in my mission and should have been court-martialed." I gave him a hangdog look, but I was totally honest about everything.

"Is that what you think? We won that battle very decisively, mostly through your efforts I think. Men die in battle. That will never change. We have many heroes from that awful day who gave their all. They each have their own citations. You might not think that you are a hero, but I am sure of it. Everyone in this formation wrote me a letter detailing what you did and how you saved their lives. I was taken to task for not giving you a medal you so rightly deserved. You might not feel like a hero, but everyone here, myself included, we ALL think that you are indeed a hero in the finest traditions of our nation. From all of us, we all want to thank you sir, for your bravery and your selflessness on that terrible day. God bless you sir!" He shook my hand. All the men started screaming and clapping for me. FOR ME!

To say that I was shocked was the understatement of the year. The president did something unexpected. He hugged me. In my ear he whispered, "You are perhaps the bravest man I have ever had the privilege of meeting. I would like to offer you a job in the office of veterans affairs if you are interested. If you ever need anything from me just call this number on the card." He slipped a business card in my pocket. I had no idea the president carried business cards like us normal folks.

The president had made his speech. I am grateful it wasn't too long. This morning I was a retired Captain, but now I was a Major? Nice to get promoted, even after my service was finished. I can't believe I got this award. What a shocker to me. I also got a very nice new uniform that actually fit me! Not that I was gonna be using it much.

Of course we had to pose for pictures. Afterwards it just seemed like old home week. I had man after man come forward and salute me, hug me, and handshake me for a good hour. I made sure to say 'Hi' and 'Thank you' to all the guys, and everyone for making the trip. It was just very nice receiving a medal, but a warm handshake from a man who served with you in battle... That was a fantastic reward. Thanksgiving had a whole new meaning for me. I felt like l was... appreciated! It was the first time. In fact, it was the only time, but I was thankful for not getting a court martial. Kinda nice meeting with the President too. It was not a bad day after all.

*******

Back at the shelter:

We all took turns doing night shift guard duty. It was really to help the guys who had severe PTSD, who sometimes woke up screaming in terror. The night guy just had to go reassure the screamer that he was ok, and the wire had not been breached. Sometimes he would get the guy some chocolate milk or tea... just to help settle an upset stomach. Sometimes they would play cards. Stuff to relax. We all had done shit like that. We took nervous guys on a walk around the perimeter to assure them that everything was ok. It seemed to help.

I was learning how to cope. In group, I talked about the big mental box, stowing away our survival gear. All the guys liked the idea. It felt good to contribute. I think it might have helped a few guys. I don't know. It helped me a whole lot. My mental box is constructed of bulletproof titanium armour. In my mind I have the only key to that box.

I haven't had to use it in a long time. But it was very important to me that I could access my survival gear in an instant, should the need ever arise.

Occasionally screamers

would grab a flashlight and walk the perimeter alone to check out our security. This was not a perfect solution, but most of the guys felt a thousand times better being with guys in the same boat. Seeing a nice solid fence made some fears go away. Knowing that someone else was looking out for them made a lot of guys feel better. We did sleep better. The screamers felt way, way better. I was never sure, but it felt like some of them made a bit of progress. Any progress is better than none.

One day, I got to go fishing. It was quiet and beautiful on the water. I didn't catch a damn thing, but it was so pleasant and... peaceful. It was wonderful to see nature, feel the rushing water, the little bugs, the wildflowers and blue sky. I saw a cute small frog. It helped me very much. I actually relaxed for a little while. I felt so, very happy, for just little while. I gotta get out into nature more often. It felt like paradise to me. Like a small chunk of heaven, just for me! I felt that I had to share this with my guys.

I spoke about this in group. I was surprised that many of the guys felt exactly the same way. I asked if the big mucky mucks would allow us to build a decompression room with a small koi pond and a running water feature, to make it a place to relax a tiny bit. I was surprised that everyone in group and even the therapist signed on to my request. I gave a thousand dollars of my own money to kick off the fundraising campaign for my idea, and before long there was fifty thousand dollars in the kitty. It was something to be proud of, and not just me, but all the guys. Everyone helped, in one way or another.

When it was completed, it was just so beautiful and so, so peaceful. The roof was able to roll back and let the nature in. The running water and greenery made it a great place to chat, or just sit and think. Everyone loved it. It got crowded now and then, so we are building a second place, complete with a tea room. Coffee is available of course. Being in nature is probably best, but sometimes we get lucky designing places to calm troubled souls. I am proud of what we have accomplished with our little decompression tea rooms. I pray we have helped someone. I know they always make me feel a bit less... stressed out. I saw a dragon fly zipping around the pond. I felt so... peaceful.

I received the absolute shock of my life when I was at the official ribbon cutting. The sign, carved into the header where you entered was the sign "Nesbitt Tea Room, forget your worries for a while. No shoes allowed. Socks optional. Welcome to Everyone" There was a huge wooden frame with spots for shoes to await their owners. Everyone came up and shook my hand.

"Why is my name up there?" I asked.

"It was your idea. Hell you dropped a grand in the hat we passed around that first day! We all got to carve the sign. I carved the 'e' in your name." He handed me a pair of giant scissors. I hacked away at the ribbon and finally just ripped it in half, bare hands. Everyone cheered. Inside was the koi pond, a trout hatchery and a big open air pond with greenery everywhere. There were lots of nice wooden benches to sit and relax. It was way too crowded for the first few days, then it was less of a big deal, and it truly became a place of peace and tranquility. I'd like to think the big general up in the sky had me do this. I am proud of what we had accomplished.

~~~~~~~

I was doubly shocked when my two lovely sisters in law, Elizabeth and Francis both showed up at my morning coffee place. They were both wide-eyed and amazed at my award. Liz was similar in her build to my ex, except her breasts were big perfect cones, reminiscent of the boobs of the fifties. Her nipples were dark and poked through her bra and tight silk top. She is incredibly sexy and beautiful.

Not to be outdone, the youngest sister Francis was extremely sexy and gorgeous herself. She was shorter, but she had monster size boobs and a huge bubble butt. She exuded sex. I could smell her arousal from ten feet away. She gave me the eye. I was shocked that a supposed lesbian gave me the eye. I hugged the sexy sisters and kissed them both. They kissed me on the lips. They were serious as a heart attack. Both those sexy girls felt me up, checking out my equipment! Wow. I didn't see this coming.

We all spent the day together and we somehow wound up in a hotel room. I now am sure they are NOT 100% vagitarians. Both of those gorgeous women tried to fuck me to death.

I called in sick the next day and we spent all day in bed. Those wonderful girls wiped me out. Both told me that they loved me, and I loved these beautiful women right back. Lesbians? Maybe part-time. Who cares about labels? They treated me wonderfully and I reciprocated all their love and affection. Truth is, I didn't want them to leave, and they both expressed that they didn't want to go either. But we all had jobs and people were depending on us. So we all had to get back to the grindstone.

I got another shock as my ex-wife called me at my job. She congratulated me on my award. She was crying as she spoke to me. That was new. I had not seen (or in this case heard) her cry in many, many years. For some reason, she was despondent about us and the divorce. Why? Done is done. We went to dinner, for her to apologize, and me for a little closure.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were a hero?" She asked me seriously. She had not touched her meal.

"I am not a hero. I did all those things for my guys, not to be a hero. I still feel like a failure, even though at least a hundred guys tell me that I am a hero. I did not want to upset you with the terrible memories of my failure during my last battle. Then, I found out that I wasn't truly married to you, and that broke my heart all over again. So we got divorced so that you could be with the man you really loved. I am grateful for the children. I am sad that you wasted so much time with a head case you didn't even love. How are things going for you?" She was quiet for a minute.

"He was just... He was using me as a fuck toy. He was, and in fact still is, fucking married. This last year has been hell on earth for me. I was such an idiot. I still miss you terribly. I have made so many dumb, stupid mistakes, but fuckin' around on my hero, my wonderful husband... Well, that was the worst mistake I ever made. I have come to beg-" she got down on her knees in front of me, "-to beg your forgiveness. I cannot live without you. It was one thing that you were off to war, but now I'm in despair that I will never be with you again." She wept.

"Please come stay with me and my two younger sisters. I promised them to tell you... They both love you. They both want me to share you with them. I don't like this idea because you are so kind and loving. They will go head over heels for you, the same as I did. But now I'm older. They could replace me." She snapped her fingers. "Like that." She burst into tears. Why on earth was she telling me this? I chose not to mention the fantastic time I had spent with her luscious and gorgeous sisters.

"I still love you. Are you sorry about the lies and the damn cheating? You are a very beautiful woman and could cheat on me very easily. I love both of your sisters. I was emotionally destroyed in the battle, but thanks to my hypnotist and my shrink, I am getting my happiness back." I explained to her.

"I noticed your name on the entrance to this beautiful place. Did you design it?" She was curious about the pictures of the decompression room.

"It was my idea, but so many guys worked on it. I am proud of the way it turned out. It's a place of peace. I hope it's a place to heal your soul. That was my original idea." That I was proud of.

"Why don't you come home with me. We can make love. My sisters will want some too unfortunately. They told me they only want one man. You!" she cried when she said that.

"Those poor girls should really get out more often!" I quipped. We went back to her place.

"You know they are lesbians?"

"After what I have been through I don't give a shit about fuckin labels. I only care about how I am treated. The two of them have always been kind and sweet to me."

I truly loved her kind sisters, no matter what they did in bed. I have memories of both of them kissing me deeply before I went overseas. They sure didn't act like lesbians at the time. Now that I think back on it, they treated me more lovingly than my ex-wife did. With the fantastic experience I just had with my sisters in law, I am very much in love with each of them.

"They both want you to give them children, if you are up for it." She burst into tears.

"Why are you crying?" I asked.

"I... I want another baby from you too! Is what I read in the news correct? You took on a hundred bad guys to let your wounded men get choppered out? You did that all ALONE? You drew their fire TOWARDS YOU so your men could get out alive? You melted the gun barrel from firing it so much? Is any of this shit true?" She seemed amazed by the truth.

"Yes, it's all true. Thing is, i could not save all the guys. I wish I could have. I saved as many as I could... until I got shot bad. I did my best. That so many good guys got killed... It eats at me to this very day. That's why I am not a hero. I survived when so many good men did not-" there were tears in my eyes again.

"-So the Good Lord decided to keep you around for a while longer. He made that decision correct?" My ex-wife prodded me.

"Perhaps he was answering MY prayers for my husband? You going to second guess the Amighty? Why on earth did he keep you alive?" She asked me.

"I... I don't know!" I replied. I really had no idea what I was supposed to do with the rest of my life.

"Well, maybe now I could have a second chance with you? You can spank me every day for being so selfish and stupid. I miss you. You are my hero. So do my vagitarian sisters. You mind having three wives? I will still be the wife in charge though. " I could have told you that, I thought. Some things never change.

Yeah, some things never do change. "Liz and Francis both want my children? Wow. My cup runneth over all of a sudden." I thought it was just crazy that three gorgeous women were in cahoots for my love and affection. Truth was, I did love all three sexy sisters. I had to think about my ex-wife a bit. I drove her back to her place. She was sharing it with her sisters.

Was I really going to forgive my stupid ex-wife? She was down on her knees sucking my cock like her very life depended on it. I suddenly had a huge orgasm and filled her mouth with my sperm. She swallowed every drop of my jism and smiled at me. I feel like I've turned a corner here somehow. Could i forgive her? She's still a bitch, but she wants to be MY bitch.

Did she really miss me like she said? Will her sweet sisters really be my sexy mistresses or extra wives? It was crazy to think about this happening all at once. The girls all wanted more kids. I did too. I must be dreaming.

"I think I might have a few more children." Maybe we could get together with her sweet sexy sisters and have a real honest-to-God family? Why not? Was this what the big general in the sky had intended for me? Only one way to find out. I gotta be brave about these crazy lunatic women!

"Come on my idiot wife. You must be dumb to want to love a crazy man like me. I'll give you a second chance if you give me one too. I forgive you. But that's it, no more fuckin' around."

She looked at me with more shame on her face. What the fuck now? I braced for the worst and was pleasantly surprised by her: "I have one more confession. I... I really like eating pussy. Me and my sisters..." she was gonna tell me about her lesbian side. Hell, I already knew about that shit from many years ago. I saw her eating out her sexy roommate. I had caught her multiple times and just left them be, not announcing my presence and not bringing it up to her. I don't know if she ever saw me, or knew that I was fully aware of her love of pussy. I was not aware of her sister's participation though.

"So let me get this straight. You discovered that you like girls, your two sexy little sisters in particular. THEY confess they have a desire for me... and you want us all to have a big permanent cluster fuck, with lots of babies. That sound about right?" I summed up the situation.

"Um, yeah. Except you forgot about spanking me everyday. I really need it. Will you be upset with me eating out my sisters or them lickin my snatch?" she sounded so serious. I burst into laughter.

"You and your lovely crazy sisters lickin' each other's labias is the least of my worries." I looked her in the eye, "No more cheating with guys or disrespect. If you get a wild hair up your ass, and you want to run off with some pretty boy, I'll be very upset. Can you give yourself to me only from now on? I don't care about the lesbian bullshit. It's kinda sexy to me. How are you going to treat me?"

"Like I should have been taking care of you all along. With love and affection, plus respect. I have an amazing idea. How about we do this thing with my sisters for say, two years? On that day, we look back on our relationship and we decide what to do next. If I dont live up to your expectations, you can toss my ass out. If I do a good job lovin' you, you keep me." She wanted a TRIAL MARRIAGE?! I suppose she has had worse ideas. If we are together, then I will never bring it up unless she changes her mind about us. Plus, I don't know what's going to happen with her sweet crazy sisters either.

I brought up a hypothetical situation, "You could get rid of my ass too?"

"I've learned my lesson. I will never ever forget that I love you and you love me. I hope you'll continue to take care of my sisters. They sincerely love you. You will be father to all our children. Can you handle that? Three girls that all love you and cherish you?"

"I'd like to think so. My therapist said I am making excellent progress and my hypnotist is very happy with my sessions. So, yeah... I want to be a dad again. You and I need to communicate better."

"Ok. How about you fuck me senseless right now this instant? Let's seal the deal. I need you to spank my dirty ass too. Let's go my Darling." my ex dragged my ass upstairs to the bedroom. See guys just shake hands to seal the deal. But fuckin her silly is a good alternative to handshakes.

As I was pounding the crap out of my darling ex-wife's cunt from behind, she was having orgasm after orgasm. I pulled her hair back.

"Come for me now!" I told her. She shivered and I felt her clench me in her way of preparing to climax. She was ready.

Her two sisters walked in and both kissed me deeply. I did not stop my wife's session as she was just about to have a massive orgasm. She was shuddering and moaning and finally coming very hard. She pulled off my cock and laid down, shaking in her climax.

I got on my back and one sister rode my hard cock, then pretty soon she was screaming as she climaxed and the other sister squirted all over me as she came hard from my teeth biting gently on her clit. She was squirting! Three of my fingers on my left hand were deep inside my former wife's asshole, and she was screaming in her own anal climax. They all smiled at me. I guess I'm doing something right.

I think I need vitamins and protein if this insane relationship is going to work. I filled one of the sister's slippery snatch full of my swimmers. I hope she's pregnant. If not, I'll just have to keep fuckin her hard until she gets pregnant. We all slept well together.

I was feeling at peace. I thanked my God for healing me, and giving me my true purpose in my life. I think I am here to make these sisters happy and fulfilled. I hope I can do that for each of them, and the babies are awesome. Do I care what other people think?

No, not really. This is my life, my women. Go get your own.