Date: Sun, 22 May 2005 05:02:01 -0700
From: Jon Hold <jonhold@earthlink.net>
Subject: In the Beginning, 1/?

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be used without his
express permission. Private persons and no others are given permission to
have one (1) electronic and/or one (1) printed copy of this work. Nifty
Erotic Stories ArchiveTM is given permission to archive this work.

All the usual disclaimers that are usual apply here. This is a work of
fiction involving sex acts between consenting persons of various ages and
conditions of life. If you can't handle that or if you are not of the legal
age or mindset, go no further but remove this material from your possession
forthwith.

If you have faggot sensitivity, you ought not read this story.  I'd really
like to hear from some of you with either positive or negative
comments. I'd really like to hear from YOU so I'll have some idea how I'm
doing and what it is you like to read. Thanks.

I used two returns between paragraphs to simplify formatting for you. This
is a hyphen -. This is an en-dash --. This is an em-dash ---. Other
high-ascii characters that PC's can't understand have been stripped.

Try to keep in mind that while 42 is the meaning of life, it is not the
only possible solution and that sexual dimorphism is Mother Nature's excuse
for being kinky.

Enjoy!

Jon


PS... This is a work in progress, so the parts may come rather far apart...


-----


In The Beginning...

Part 1 of ?

by Jon Hold

<jonhold@earthlink.net>

Copyright 2005 by Jon Hold, all rights reserved.



Being a somewhat idealized look at my somewhat precocious end-of-childhood
experiment, uh... excuse me, experience....


I was the precocious sort of brat that teachers admire for their ability,
and despise for the way they act. By the time I turned thirteen everyone,
including my parents, had more than had their fill. Keeping me with my peer
group was thought to be a good idea, at least by current theory, but a
bunch of junior high kids were NOT my peers. Not by any count. Some bright
soul got the great idea of putting me in a position where, not only would
my mind be challenged, but there would be kids big enough to slap me down
when I got too wise-assed.

So that's how I ended up starting High School in my thirteenth year. Well,
sort of, anyway. Three days a week at the high school and two days a week
at the local Community College taking math and science classes --- and I
hadn't actually turned thirteen yet --- by a few months.

My first day at the new school was NOT good! Not only was the entire
concept of separate classrooms strange to me, but everyone was taller,
faster and more physically powerful than me. First and second periods got
me confused and upset and physical education (i.e., organized sadism
highlighted by personal torture) in the third period finished me off. I had
no clue about jock straps, pubic hair, big dicks and balls and public
nudity --- but even worse, I looked and acted confused and scared and the
typical class wits/bullies took instant advantage. The Coach caught me just
in time to keep me from running home. He took me into his office and made
me sit in one place until I'd calmed down and then had his assistant take
the next class while he took me to the office.

On the way to the office the Coach yelled out, "Hey, Johnstone!" and a cute
blond kid only about an inch taller than me came running over.

"What classes do you have on your long schedule?" Coach asked. (Our High
School had a split schedule. One long (Monday, Wednesday, Friday) and one
short (Tuesday, Thursday).)

"Uh..." the kid said, thinking, and then checking a piece of paper from his
backpack, English, Sociology, Art, Russian, World History, Study Period and
Gym."

"Good! Come with us." Coach commanded.

Johnstone and I followed the Coach without comment. Understandable, I
guess. I was still sort of in shock. I'd never seen anyone like Coach
before. About 6' 6"; about 260 pounds, about 4 ounces of it fat; Black
hair; grey eyes and, most noticeable to me, hands big enough to fit around
my head --- and looking strong enough to crush my head flat if I irritated
him. He wasn't really scary. I was too impressed by him to be scared of
him. I think he's the first man I ever really lusted after.

After quelling a recalcitrant office girl with a look, Coach got me signed
up for the same classes Johnstone had and told him he was now responsible
for me as a "younger brother" and then just left the two of us standing
there.

I was just standing there, sort of dazed. Johnstone punched me in the arm,
lightly, and said, "Come on. We're already late for class."

As we walked to class (not all that quickly. I NEVER saw Johnstone in a
hurry unless something was important to HIM) Johnstone explained to me that
as long as I was one of "Coach's Boys" no one would fuck with me, but
teachers would tell him if I were a problem or not doing my work and that
Coach REALLY didn't like hearing that shit --- and had a way of making boys
really, really, really wish he hadn't heard it!

Then he explained that I was to call him "Billy" and that the "younger
brother" thing was the way Coach had older boys on his team watch out for
the younger guys, although, as a Freshman, Billy hadn't expected to be an
older brother for at least two more years. I stuck with Billy and
in-between classes he told me all sorts of stuff about how the school
worked and how I should act and who was fun and who to stay away from
(especially Mr. Areas, the math teacher, who was pissed because he thought
that I thought I was too smart to be taught by him. I was, but who was
counting?)

"Are you really that smart in math?" Billy asked.

Bashfully, I nodded a reluctant "Yes."

"I suck in math. HEY! Do you think you know enough Algebra to maybe help
me? Only if you want to, of course."

I didn't want to sound cocky or better than Billy, so I didn't tell him
that the reason I was taking math at the college is that I was studying
Calculus and Matrix Algebra. So all I said was, "Sure. Maybe I can pay back
some of the help you're giving me... if I'm good enough at algebra."

Billy clapped me on the back and hugged me up against his side as we
walked, not caring if the other kids saw us hugging. I glowed in the
feeling of acceptance. Right then, I'd have done anything for Billy. My mom
wasn't much on touching, and my dad had died before I was born, and I don't
remember him at all. I really liked Billy touching me. It felt good.

Everything went swell until lunchtime. Outside of the cafeteria the bullies
from my PE class stopped me. Seems like Coach had arranged for them to run
laps, a lot of them, to keep them out of trouble. And, of course, it was
all MY fault.

Billy told them to back off and they told Billy where he could stick it.
Billy just grinned, stuck his fist up in the air and yelled, "Ganesha" (the
name of our school). Guys, big guys, started getting up from lunch tables
all around the area and heading our way. Billy just stood there and waited
while a couple of tons of Jock muscle gathered around us.

"Well, `Boys'. The `Pussy' is my little brother and if you try to fuck with
him again, you won't even be able to run laps. Now shag ass, punks. And try
to find someone your own size to pick on."

I'm not going to say that Billy was insufferably smug when he said that,
but I will say that it's a good thing he had all that back-up!

We went and sat with some of the bigger guys and had lunch.


End of part 1