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.