Date: Sun, 17 Feb 2002 01:05:47 -0500
From: XH4M <xhuge4muscl@hotmail.com>
Subject: BIG IS BETTER 05

BIG IS BETTER

By XH4M

This story is a fantasy.  All characters in this story are fictional with
no resemblance to any real persons implied.  Any reader with objections to
graphic descriptions of sexual encounters between males, who may not have
reached the legal age of consent, or whose local, regional, state or
national jurisprudence prohibits such descriptions, should NOT read
further.  Copyright (c) 2000 XH4M.  All rights, implicit or implied, except
for distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual
downloading the file, are reserved.  Inquiries regarding publishing rights
for this story should be directed to: xhuge4muscl@hotmail.com


PART 05 - OF MICE AND MEN

My real awakening only began when I transferred to the public regional high
school, probably not unlike the experiences of other Amish boys who go
beyond the 8th grade to get their high school diplomas, I suspect.  But
thanks to the Outlanders, I heard the word 'sex' for the first time.  I
also started hearing other closely related topics in conversations as well,
though most were only the typical teenage exaggerations, rumors and
innuendoes.  Still I managed to get some rudimentary base-line concepts
down concerning sexuality in short order.  I also heard the word 'homo' for
the first time and immediately understood this was not a particularly
desirable thing to be either, which more-or-less confirmed my own
unexplainable intuition concerning my own feelings.

There were a few other things about myself I would come to abruptly
understand, thanks to having a bunch of other similar-aged boys to
frequently hang around with for the first time in my life.  For one - I was
still shorter than most boys in my grade.  I was still growing but not fast
enough to keep pace, let alone catch up.  Standing on my toes, I'd have
been hard-pressed to squeak out 5' 7" in my freshman year.  I also quickly
figured out I was smarter than average and had a good head on my shoulders.
I had a knack for picking up new things easily, especially when it came to
math and sciences.

And thanks specifically to gym locker rooms, I also acquired two additional
facts about my 'physical self,' which happened on my very first day of gym
class.  One fact, I liked.  The other would torment me beyond words.

Let's start with the good new first.  My pleasant surprise was I had a
better overall shape to my otherwise short body than most of the other boys
in my grade.  I was already filling out, developing the 'wide shoulders and
narrow hips' appearance characteristic of the other males in my family,
even exaggerated more because I was short.  I also was a strong kid - a
beefy little bulldog type - from working the farm all my life.  There was
considerable meat on my otherwise short bones.  Most other freshman boys
were uniformly thin and lanky, built like pencils.  Mine was wider at the
top and narrower at the bottom, more like the older seniors I saw.  And I
felt good about that aspect of my appearance.  It pleased me for some
unknown reason.

But that first fateful day in the boy's locker room was also the first I'd
seen a bunch of other guys all completely naked and I took the opportunity
to do the other kind of 'comparing' that boys inevitably do.  I'd assumed
I'd probably come up very short-handed in that area, a belief I'd long held
after seeing my Dad and older brother's appendages.

I sneaked discreet glances here and there around the lockers while we were
all getting changed.  It only took one period of gym to establish once and
forever how I really measured up - the naked truth which can only be
revealed in a male locker room.

Seeing is believing.  What I saw flattened me like a steamroller.

In the body hair department, the other boys had relatively little pubic
hair, some a bit more than others.  Most of the freshman however frankly
seemed to me to be pretty much a bunch of hairless Chihuahuas.  But when I
looked down at myself, in stark contrast, a hideous dense dark forest of
hair surrounded Little Johann and Company with a narrower trail climbing up
along the centerline over my stomach.  I was so instantly mortified I
practically leaped into my waiting brand-new athletic supporter, yanking it
up decisively to cover myself as quickly as possible.

"Whew!  There," I muttered to myself, thinking everything would be
O.K. now.  Then I began to notice how the other freshman looked wearing
their own spanking-new jocks.

Well frankly, none of them seemed to have much of anything
to... well... support.  Their jocks covered their nakedness more than
adequately.  When they walked around in them, nothing shifted inside their
flattened broad pouches so much as a millimeter.

So when I'd established what the norms were for filling a freshman jock, I
checked myself out to see comparatively how I looked wearing my own.  It
felt kinda weird.  My waistband seemed to fit fine but it dived in the
front, as if being weighed down.  And the rest didn't look at ALL right to
me - nothing like the other guys'.  My white elastic pouch seemed kinda
small, struggling to contain and support its contents. And far from being
flat, my pouch was prominent.  Frankly, it bulged alarmingly.  Moreover, my
pubic forest was still visible around the perimeter.  My big, white glaring
bulge was perfectly framed by the dark contrast all around it.  So rather
than concealing anything, wearing a jock actually quantified in no
uncertain terms just how much of me there was.  The effect was like turning
a spotlight directly on my crotch.  When I tried to walk slowly across the
floor inconspicuously, I was further appalled when my full pouch sagged and
rebounded with every step.  Most of the other guys were glancing at me, too
- down there.  (Elastic and I were to become mortal enemies in the future.
Unknowingly, this was my very first hint of that coming 'relationship.')

When we all headed butt-naked for the showers together, I noticed their
Little Johanns' looked like bald-headed mice poking right out of their
round, little mouse holes.  But when I walked to the showers, my Johann
hung from me like the serpent in the Bible, swinging around and playing an
aggressive game of stickball with its big twin neighbors.  I was undeniably
a Triton among the minnows - and absolutely the last thing I wanted was to
be so conspicuously different than the other guys.

And regardless of how carefully I tried to be nonchalant and inconspicuous
in the gang showers, I eventually drew all their eyes downward - freshman
and seniors alike.  They were always carefully expressionless, but wherever
I looked I caught someone usually staring.  That really unglued me.  The
words, "You're really a freak, Peter," echoed in my brain.  I was
hyper-aware of the many pairs of eyes continually inspecting me.

I wanted to be like every other freshman in high school; to fit it easily.
But I was too obviously NOT like every other freshman - or any seniors I
could see, for that matter.  They all knew it and so did I.  A big part of
me just cringed inside and not one single ounce of male pride did I feel.
To me, I was clearly cursed.  What I didn't have was the balls to cut off
my balls, although that thought honestly raced around in my head
occasionally - having none at all seemed the better of the two big evils.
I was so ashamed I wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and die.

Well die I did not.  I adjusted.  I adapted.  I even came up with a
survival strategy - a game plan - to 'appear' as small as I could, or at
least draw as little attention as possible.  And I executed my plan well,
praying the other guys would just eventually forget.  I dressed and
undressed quickly, always facing my locker, and also never engaging in any
idle chit-chat until that was accomplished first.  In no time at all I had
it down to a science of speed and precision.  Oh - and by the way, I also
stopped taking gang showers altogether at school.