Propping himself up on his free elbow, Jack raises his canteen to his lips, which seem
more flexible than usual as he takes a heavy drink. Sealing it up and returning it to a place
under his cot, he reaches under the Playboy covering up his crotch, grabbing his semi-
hardon through his pant’s fabric and giving it a few good strokes. “Fucking heat.” he
mutters, his hand withdrawing from his cock as his tent’s flap pulls abruptly open.
Stepping into his tent, Jack’s tent-buddy Carlos smirks as he spots Jack’s magazine, “Can
see we’ve been reeeeeeal busy in here. Eh, buddy?” Snatching the Playboy from Jack’s
crotch, and sitting down on his own cot, he opens it up, letting the centerfold unfurl
before his eyes. “Oh yeah.” he whoops, “Real busy.”
Jack sits up, chuckling at Carlos, and uncapping his canteen he takes yet another drink.
“What the fuck else am I suppose to do. We haven’t exactly been all to busy lately.”
“True ‘nough.” Carlos says, his eyes never moving from the hot centerfold, “Give me a
drink, man.”
Handing off his canteen to Carlos, Jack’s grip returns to his package to re-adjust himself,
“Shit…fucking tight pants.” he curses under his breath, his penis and balls beginning to
feel uncomfortably confined in his fatigues, “Thank god for commando-style, eh?” he
adds, freeing his pant’s top button and letting the zipper slip a few teeth to grant more
room to his growing cock. “Uh, huh…yeah, dude.” Carlos agrees, no longer really listening,
his own hand having wandered down to his dick to rub it as he drools over the centerfold.
Scratching his chest, Jack stands up, his entire uniform noticeably tighter across his lithe,
athletic body, “Fuckin’ sand must have got in my uniform too, man, fuck I itch!”
WIth Jack’s hair growing longer, his buzz-cut ruined, and his ears looking more pointed
than normal, Jack’s changes into an anthropomorphic horse, and subsequently Carlos’,
have only just begun. It’s indeed getting hot in the tent.