Date: Mon, 16 Oct 2000 07:41:35 EDT From: Tony 422 <tony1861@hotmail.com> Subject: Becoming One of the Boys - Chapter 1 Hi all -- This is my first story so please, comments would be great. I know there's not much sex, but hey, you got to build it up. Trust me, it'll be there soon. :-) Tony Tony1861@hotmail.com ==================================================== Disclaimer: The story you are about read contains gay erotic fictional experiences. So, if you are not of legal age and/or your country, state, locality, religion, moral universe, etc., consider these writings to be perverse, then I suggest that you should find something else to read. And, if you should decide to read this type of literature, neither this site nor the author will be held accountable for your actions. ==================================================== "Becoming One of The Boys" By R. Anthony Chapter One: Just wanting to know . . . As they all went to the bedroom, Tony wondered how he could get Steven to touch him. It was nothing weird or anything, he just wanted to see if Steven would do it. He looked around the room. We're sleeping in sleeping bags on the ground, he thought. That makes it so much easier to sleep right next to Steven. But the eight elementary school students certainly had nothing more on their minds that night than the scary stories that Matt and Steven's dad had told the boys as they were roasting -- well, mainly burning -- marshmallows on the bonfire the boys had spent all evening gathering wood for. But as the boys heading into the room that Matt and Steven shared, Tony just needed to know. Tony threw he sleeping bag down, after waiting for Steven to lie his down, right next to his best friend. "This party is great Steven. Your dad is the best!" Tony said. "Yeah, he's rad," Steven replied as he was beaned in the head by his brother's flying pillow. As the boys, one by one, went to the bathroom to change into their chosen bed gear -- mainly an odd assortment of monster truck and Pac-Man T-shirts and Bengals, Browns and Steelers shorts, Tony changed into his favorite orange Atari T- shirt and a plain pair of light gray gym shorts and headed to his Transformers sleeping bag. Ten minutes later, the requisite wrestling and pillow- fighting ended, and the boys settled down and headed to bed. After the lights were out, Tony lay there, in all of his nine years, wondering what this whole Steven-touching-me thing was all about. Well, he thought to himself, I just want to know . . . * * * As Tony headed down the hall, he didn't know quite what to expect. He knew that he was skinny and not really into sports. He walked with his gym bag in one hand and his book bag in the other, making his was down the first-day crowd as he headed to his first day of gym class. The bell rang just as Tony headed into the locker room, after he crossed the basketball court from the hallway. The other fifth-graders had already started changing and he noticed that almost all were taller than him, and had more muscle than Tony's small frame. He found a locker on the side, against the wall, away from most of the loud commotion from the Little Ravens football players. Tony hung his striped polo shirt from the hanger in the locker as he changed into one of his soccer T-shirts. He hadn't played soccer in two years, but the shirts still fit his slightly awkward frame. He glanced around the room, and seeing that most people were already clearing out, he quickly removed his jeans and replaced them with a pair of Ohio State Buckeyes sweatshorts. Walking into the large gym, he saw the Marine-like figure at the front of the gym, Mr. Todd. Mr. Todd was the boys wrestling coach and was one of the more highly regarded teachers at the school of 800 students. He was a former Marine, without the edge in personality that traditionally comes with the rigorous military background. Although not exactly pleasant, Mr. Todd had a way of knowing just the point to which he could take his students in their gym classes before they would rebel. And when it got to that point, he'd lighten up. That lightening up factor worked well for Tony, who rarely kept up with his more athletic classmates. As the years went by, the Little Ravens -- the Pee-Wee football league -- became the Troy Middle School Titans as seventh grade junior varsity football began. Entering the locker room by then was, for Tony, becoming an all-out depressing experience. One day, as Tony slowly changed from the T-shirt he was wearing into his gym T-shirt, he saw something. Rob, the expectant quarterback for the Titans, was in his row of lockers, and as he pulled up his long-sleeved T-shirt over his face to take it off, Tony noticed the hair. It was just a second before Tony shifted his gaze back to deep inside his locker, but Tony's mind was racing. Just the night before, when he was taking a shower, Tony examined the small hairs starting to grow down around his penis -- but he knew he certainly didn't have any hair under his armpits! Huh, Tony thought, as he headed out to the track for another tortuous class with Mr. Todd. . . * * * They sat at lunch discussing who would be the next president, not fully understanding the depth of Dukakis' poll numbers in the final days before the '88 election. But for high school freshman determined to be brains, this was the day of reckoning. Tony was thrilled. He had finally found a group. After seven years of relative loneliness, the 5'6", 110# freshman sat his skinny ass down next to Dawn and Tara, across from the two Toms and Chris. As they rambled on about topic of which they knew relatively little, Tony looked out across the huge cafeteria. They had been Ravens -- as everyone at the high school was called, regardless of whether you played a sport or not -- for exactly two months now, and Tony was still amazed by the size of the high school. With the medium-sized towns three middle schools combining to form one high school, the 500 students in their class were almost as many students as had gone to Troy. Tony liked all the people. It just seemed so exciting to him that there were that many new people for him to meet. People who didn't know the third-grade him or the fifth- or seventh- grade Tony DePascale. They only knew Anthony, the short, skinny, and goofy-grinned kid that he was today. And he liked that. * * * In his first days at Francis High School, Tony had met Brian Chambers, a popular junior who both played baseball and was in the drama club. Everybody knew "Chambers," from what Tony could tell. And if they didn't like him, they sure weren't telling Tony. At the second drama club meeting Brian said "hi" to Tony as he walked back to sit with the juniors and seniors in the back of the room. Tony was unusually speechless. After the meeting, as Chambers and two of his friends were leaving, Tony caught his eye and returned his earlier greeting with a slight wave. "See ya 'round, kid. And welcome to Francis!" Chambers called back as he headed out the door, leaving Tony even more lost. . . * * * "So, guys, do you know Brian Chambers?" Tony asked some of his crew after lunch two days after the election. "Well, duh, yeah, he's like Mr. Hottie," Dawn shot back, eager as ever to prove to Tony how much smarter and how much more on top of things she was than he. "Whatever, Dawn. I mean, like, do you know him, know him -- not just 'Have you drooled near him?'" Tony fought back, hopeful to push Dawn back a step in their never-ending race to out-do the other. "She has drooled near him, Tony. Last Friday, at the game, we passed him by as we were leaving to go to Denny's," Tara generously responded. "She just, like, stopped, and turned to watch him -- until I knocked her on the back of the head to get a move on." "Ya, okay, thanks all," Tony replied, anxious to be done with Tara and Dawn so he could go back to thinking about his new problem. "Why you ask?" Tara queried. "No reason, he's in drama club and I saw him at the meeting a couple weeks ago. He's in the play that they're doing this weekend. It's supposed to be good -- some comedy. We should go see it," Tony over-justified. "Okay then, we will," Dawn declared, anxious to get a longer look at Brian Chambers in any way she could. "It's settled then," Tara added. Ha, settled, Tony thought, and he headed off to algebra class. * * * Tony lay in bed that night, thinking about going to see Brian in the play. He didn't know why he wanted to see him so bad. Maybe it was because of the fact that Brian had said "hi" to him, Tony thought. Maybe, he considered, it was because Brian seemed like a really nice guy. He supposed maybe it was because Brian has such a nice ass -- Whoa, Tony thought, What? Was? That? Tony lay there that night, realizing how good jerking off could feel once you knew why you were doing it. * * * Tony came in from mowing the lawn, his shirt off and tucked into his pants waist, and entering the air-conditioned house realized just how hot it was outside. After grabbing a cup of cold water, he went into the bathroom to splash some water on his face and get some of the grass out of his hair. As he did so, he heard the phone ring. Ah, shit, he thought, sandy blond hair dripping in the sink, they can leave a message. "Hi you've reached the DePascales," Tony's metallic answering-machine voice called out. "We're not in right now, but if you leave us a message -- including the time and a number where we can reach you -- we'll call you back soon. Thanks. Bye." Beep. "Hey, uh, Tony. This is Brian Chambers, you know, from school, uh, yeah, drama club. I was just calling because I know you're an officer next year, and I, uh, thought you might know, uh, what play we're doing in the fall. . ." Brian said through the machine. As drops of water periodically hit the floor, the wet- headed Tony had been standing a half-foot from the machine since about a second after Brian identified himself. Tony, however, had still not picked up the phone, curiously anxious as to whether the Francis "Hottie" would leave his phone number on Tony's machine. He could always pick up the phone at the last minute if Brian didn't sound like he was going to leave his number, Tony reasoned. "Anyway," Brian's voice continued. "If you do happen to know . . ." Shit, Tony thought, I don't know. Can I -- should I call him back later or pick up now? ". . . why don't you, uh, give me a call. 690-2222. Bye." After the machine hung up, and rewound itself, Tony pressed the "Play" button and listened to his jerk-off fantasy for the past nine months speak to him. As he sat there in the kitchen, his right hand found its way around his tanned chest, down across his navel and down under the waistband of his shorts, pulling out a five-inch boner. As Tony's body tensed that afternoon, something felt different. As he twitched with a heightened climax, a single splurge of clear water-like cum found its way out of Tony's cock. Tony got up and took a shower, then played the message again to write down Brian's number -- although he had, in reality, already had it memorized in the 20 minutes since Brian had left it on the machine -- and finally took the answering machine tape, put it in his desk drawer in his room and found a new tape for the machine from the hallway closet. To Be Continued . . .