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By Josef Howard

I was the smallest kid in my class at the start of junior high. If you had seen me then in a classroom of my peers you would have thought a little boy wandered into the classroom by mistake and no one had the temerity to show him the door. I was five foot tall and barely 90 pounds. As all the kids around me grew into young adults, I stayed a sniffling little kid.

It was because those constant sniffles that my parents took me to the doctor, who sent me to an allergist, who put me on a course of weekly injections for my allergies. The coolest thing about the allergy shots to me that spring was that I was excused from gym class for 24 hours after each shot, and given my size and relative clumsiness, staying out of gym was a respite from further humiliation.

Then suddenly that summer I grew so fast it made people’s heads spin. At the start of ninth grade I was five foot ten inches and a very muscular 180 pounds. None of the kids who hadn’t seen me during the summer recognized me. Some of them thought I was a different guy who just happened to be named Jack Ackerman like the old me. They must have figured the old me moved away. Or maybe he just slithered away and hid in some hole.

Even after they heard I was the same guy, they didn’t treat me like the same guy. Logically they might understand it was still me, but emotionally they treated me like someone else. My bulky body, my chiseled and fuzzy face, and my new found athletic ease meant I hung with a whole different crowd. Suddenly every girl wanted to date me and every guy wanted to be friends with me. In gym class I went from being a klutz to a natural athlete. The football coach started trying to recruit me, and I half considered playing on the team, but after so many years of ignoring sports, I just wasn’t interested in the game.

I kept up with the allergy shots all that year even though they didn’t seem to affect my sniffles or my stuffy sinuses, but I noticed something strange after a few months of being the new me. Most of the Doc’s patients were teenager boys, and half of them were huge. Lots of them even bigger than I was. The Doc himself was huge, now that I thought about it. He wore a loose lab coat, but it was cut like a circus tent to cover his chest shoulders and arms. His neck was wider than his head, and his hands were enormous. All during ninth grade I noticed he treated me differently too, like he was proud of me for some reason. He grinned from ear to ear when he walked in the examining room.

By the end of ninth grade I had packed on another sixty pounds of muscle and stood six foot two inches tall. I looked like a college man. I was shaving twice a day and I didn’t know what to make of my endowment. Most of the girls wouldn’t let me near their pussy because it hurt when I fucked them. The most I could get was a hand job.

The summer between junior high and high school my parents moved across the country. We never lived in a real city before, but this new town was really rural, in the middle of central Washington.

School was a little strange that year, because a lot of the kids were a little afraid of me, like they thought I was an adult planted in the class. In one way it felt normal – like in seventh grade – I was different again, and I spent a lot of time alone.

That spring I got the envelope in the mail. Inside were these pictures of huge muscle dudes – just from the neck down. Some of them my size, some way bigger. Some of them wearing speedos that bulged as obscenely as mine would if I had enough nerve to wear one. Some of them naked with cocks like donkeys. Some of the cocks were stiff. It fucking freaked me out, but it also fucking turned me on. I thought it was sex that turned me on, but as I looked at those pictures I realized what really had turned me on the most was my own body. Seeing variations of bodies like my own only made it clear. I was turned on by big muscle dudes with giant cocks. It was embarrassing to admit even to myself, but looking at those pictures made my skin tingle; it set my blood on fire.

I locked myself in the bathroom after I opened the envelop, greased up my dick with my mom’s hand lotion and wacked out a shit load of cum, all the while moaning and groaning almost uncontrollably.

When I heard the front door close I scrambled to clean up. My parents had been at work when I got the mail after school.

“Jack? Is that you?” my mom’s voice called from the hall. “Are you alright?”

Shit! “Yeah, I’m okay. I just bruised my leg on the counter in here.”

“Let me see,” she said. “How come the door’s locked.”

“Must have been a mistake. I’m okay. I’ll be out in a second.”


In my rush to clean up and vacate the bathroom, I almost overlooked the compact disc and the post card mixed in with the pictures. The disc had a guy on it. He said he was part of some group of guys like me. He said they knew about me. They had been watching me since back in Ohio in junior high, only they’d lost track of me when we moved last year. He said if I wanted to meet guys like me, guys like the ones in the pictures, I should contact him. I should write down a date and time and a place on the postcard and put it in the mail. They’d come met me.

As fucking excited as those pictures made me when I first opened them, I was scared. Finding out you’re a queer is a big deal to a small town guy. Queers had no life in a place like Yakima. But I never for a minute hesitated to mail the postcard. I chose a day two weeks from now, because who knew how close they were or how long it would take them to get here.

The day came and I skipped out of school at lunch and walked downtown to the dying mall. I knew who they were the instant I walked by the food court. One guy – the older one – was gargantuan – over 300 pounds. The other guy was closer to my age and size. They stand and shake hands and introduce themselves. The older one, Frank, is friendly but businesslike. The guy my age, Jesse, is all smiles and eyes.

We don’t order food. Instead they take me to their limo and we go to a small hotel a few blocks away. Frank leads us to a room where they undress me and measure me and weigh me, like I’m some specimen. I’ve got an erection from being near them, but they work around it. No one touches it, not even Jesse, who as least stares at it when he thinks I’m not looking, or when he thinks his long, lanky blond hair is hiding his eyes.

Frank tosses me a robe when they’re done and we sit down. He says he’s glad they’ve found me. I should have asked who they were and what they wanted from me, shouldn’t I? That would have been normal, but I was so juiced by the sight of them. My cock was still hard and wrapped around my waist under the hotel robe, twitching occasionally as we talked and dribbling pre-cum like a leaky faucet. Frank tells me the doc back in Ohio picked me back in the eighth grade. He put me on the shots my parents thought were allergy shots. He tells me not to worry now about why. There’s a reason and there is time enough to talk about it later. Maybe I’d like to take the afternoon off from school today to spend time getting to know someone my own age from the program.

I don’t need encouragement.

Jesse and I leave the hotel. He’s got a motorcycle parked by the limo. I sit behind him and we ride to the local Y. As big as I was I never lifted. Jesse is amused by my cluelessness in the weight room, but he never makes me feel inept or ostracized. He’s attitude is too salacious to let me feel anything but appreciated. It’s a shock to me how strong we both are. We have the place to ourselves because kids are in school and adults are at work. It’s a small town and no one works out during the middle of the afternoon. I’ve leafed through bodybuilding magazines before. I know what the big guys lift, but Jesse and I are almost twice as strong as those guys.

With all the grunting and suggestive positioning as we spot one another, I feel like my cock is going to burst. I wish we had stayed back at the hotel room and Frank had gone away. Or not gone away. I just wish the two of them had given me some relief.

In the locker room we are all alone. As hard as I still am as we walk into the showers, I take my own stall, but Jesse surprises me. He walks into my stall and closes the curtain behind him. He lathers me up and as he finishes my legs he sucks the end of my cock into his mouth. It only takes a few minutes before I’m firing down his throat like a fire hose.

Jesse flips me around and leans me against the warm and wet tile wall and slides his soapy cock in my ass. I know it must have hurt that first instant, but I know I was a lot more turned on than I was uncomfortable. Jesse’s not as easy to get off as I was so we’re going at it quit a while. The wet Brillo fur of his chest on my mountainous back rubs me the right way, and I get time to get off a few more times myself.

Jesse drops me off at home after the Y. When my mom gets home she asks me about my day. I know the whole experience is a life changer because it’s the first time I really can’t talk about any part of it with my folks. I also start to wonder what’s next. Neither Frank nor Jesse gave me any contact information. They know how to find me, but both of them could disappear tonight and I’d never see them again. Still I expect that they wouldn’t have bothered to hunt me down if there wasn’t more to this deal than one afternoon of sex.