RP: Groovy Kind of Love 03B/24 (t/t, HS, size, no sex)

[The Pecman]

[con't. from Groovy03A]

I stared at the clock for most of the class, and somehow
managed to successfully avoid getting called on by the
teacher. The clock hands moved in slow motion for the
entire hour, but at last, the 7th Period bell sounded. Time
for my moment of truth -- Phys Ed.

"You know we've gotta dress out for PE, right?" asked
Ronnie, nervously.

"I know," I nodded, holding my gym bag. "I've got my stuff
in here."

Silently, we trotted into the Boys' Locker Room, which was
already crowded with at least two hundred loud-talking
students donning the requisite school-approved T-shirts,
gym shorts, and sneakers. I noticed just one or two
familiar faces, and immediately had felt a pang because Sky
wasn't there with us. Ron and I each grabbed adjoining
clothes lockers, and I started unbuttoning my shirt.

"I'm a little nervous about this," Ron whispered to me.
"I'm, uh, not real big on public nudity."

I grinned. "Yeah, I know what you mean, Ronnie. Just get
dressed fast. We'll deal with the showers later."

He nodded his head meekly and finished slipping on his
shoes. I quickly tied up my sneakers and we ran outside to
line up with the rest of the class.

Chuck, the junior assistant coach, separated our class into
three different groups. Every six weeks, we'd rotate
between football, gymnastics, and golf. Next semester would
be basketball, track, and softball. Luckily for me and
Ronnie, we both got tabbed for gymnastics, so we headed
back into the locker room and through a large double-door,
into the indoor basketball court. A dozen large padded mats
had been laid down on the floor, and a fit-looking middle-
aged man, dressed in white shorts and a matching T-shirt,
gestured for us to join the group.

"Listen up, gentlemen," he announced. "I'm Coach Lucas.
We'll be doing basic gymnastics in this class over the next
few weeks. I know some of you would rather do 'real' sports
like softball or football, but trust me -- gymnastics is
just as tough as those are, and it can be just as fun. For
some, it's even more of a challenge, because you're
essentially competing against yourself -- improving your
agility, and giving you basic skills you can use every day
of your life, like balance, timing, and coordination.
Here's the exercises for today."

The minutes went by as we began to imitate his movements.
Sure enough, before long, we were somersaulting like little
kids all over the mats, and falling all over the place
trying to do cartwheels. Ron did a lot better than I did;
he seemed to be a natural, cartwheeling like an expert and
bouncing around like a seasoned pro. The last exercise had
us trying to do headstands, and I felt like a total retard,
unable to hold the position for more than a few seconds.

"Jeez, Ron," I lamented to him in frustration. "I thought
_you_ were supposed to be the dork, and _I_ was supposed to
be the cool swimming champ!"

He grinned. "I guess these things just come easily to those
of us with inherent skill," he said, in a faux British
accent.

"Oh, shaddup, professor!" I laughed, punching him
affectionately in the shoulder. Now I knew how Sky felt
when I tried to act like an intellectual to him.

Finally, the coach blew his whistle. "That's it, boys!" he
yelled. Several students groaned. "Hit the showers. Don't
forget -- they're mandatory! You'll get a point off your
grade if we catch anybody dodging their shower!"

I felt a cold feeling in my gut. This is it, I thought. We
made our way off the basketball court and back through a
long crowded hallway, pulling off our T-shirts on the way.
By the time we got into the locker room, I could see that
half the class was already in various states of disrobing.
As we crossed the crowded benches, I was relieved to see
that several of the other 9th graders hardly had any more
body hair than I did. But all of them looked noticeably
smaller than I did down there -- a lot smaller.

Ronnie chatted nervously while we opened our clothes
lockers and pulled out our towels. We both acted nonchalant
and modestly turned away from each other as we undressed
and continued our idle conversation. I yanked off my shorts
and underwear with one fast move, and quickly pulled the
towel around my waist. It's now or never, I thought.

We both pushed through the jam-packed locker room and
walked down the hallway, over to the shower area. I heard a
distant howl from an unfortunate kid who apparently just
got blasted with cold water. My heart sank as we entered
the tile doorway. Just as I feared, it was a group shower,
with more about 20 ancient fixtures in the wall. So much
for privacy.

As we walked through the steam-filled room, I avoided
looking at the half-a-dozen wet, naked boys inside. Much to
my embarrassment, I started to get a strange warm feeling
in my gut, and a stirring in my groin. Shit, I thought. If
I get a boner in here, I'll never hear the end of it! I
deliberately bit my lower lip and tried desperately to
recall the square root formulas from tonight's math
homework.

Ronnie and I took adjoining showers, while he chattered on
endlessly about what was going to be on TV that night. We
both stood apart, and I kept myself carefully aimed towards
an unused shower head on my right. One kid on the far end
gave me a curious glance as I quickly lathered up, and I
saw him do a double-take when he walked by and glanced
below my waist. I turned my back to him and rinsed off the
soap as fast as I could, then grabbed my towel and quickly
wrapped it back around my waist.

Ronnie and I nervously made our way back through the line
of naked teens, down the hall and over to our clothes
lockers. Breathing a sigh of relief, I carefully unwrapped
my towel and began quickly drying myself off, keeping my
waist as close to my locker door as I could, to avoid any
unwanted glances. Maybe this won't be so bad, I thought,
with a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, I heard a loud THWAK! and Ron let out a yelp of
pain. I looked up and saw a nude older boy grinning and
holding a towel. I felt a twinge when I saw his cock, which
looked to be almost as big as mine, only a lot hairier.

Shit. It was Scott Michaels again. "Gotcha, ya little
faggot twerp!" he snarled. Ronnie whimpered and spun around
against the locker, dropping his towel and holding his
backside. His face was beet red, and his eyes were filled
with a mixture of anguish and sheer terror.

Michaels roared with laughter. "Hey, guys! Get a load o'
this! We got an anteater-dick here!"

A few chuckles erupted from the crowd of boys, who
momentarily stopped dressing to enjoy the show. Ronnie's
face reddened, and I glanced down. Shit, I thought. He was
uncircumcised! It was pretty good-sized, too -- bigger than
Sky's, I thought -- and though I hated to admit, it did
kind of look like an anteater's nose.

"Don't pay any attention to them, Ron," I whispered,
keeping my back to our antagonist, as I retrieved my
glasses out of my gym bag.

"I think it's more like an armadillo-dick, Scott!" yelled
one of his cronies.

Michaels took a menacing step towards me. "And you, shit-
for-brains," he began. "I bet you got an anteater dick,
too!"

Before I could respond, he ripped the towel off my waist,
and I spun around -- completely nude, dripping wet, and
thoroughly embarrassed. My hands weren't nearly big enough
to cover my groin.

"What the FUCK?" Scott yelled, as he slapped my hand out of
the way.

I felt my face flush as every eye in the locker room turned
where I stood. Oh, shit, I thought. Here it comes.

Scott hooted with derision. "What are you, kid -- some
kinda FREAK? That's a horse dick!" he yelled.

Nervous laughter and titters echoed through the locker
room, and every conversation stopped. Scott took a step
closer to eye me carefully, as if he were examining an
animal at the zoo. Even Ronnie stared, open-mouthed.

Michaels pointed at my appendage and guffawed like it was
the funniest thing he'd ever seen. "Now that I think about
it," he said loudly, "you're such an ass, I'd say it's more
like a big DONKEY dick, wouldn't you?" He laughed again,
and I felt my dick twinge. If anything, I think it was
starting to respond to all the attention.

Before I could even think, I tore my towel out of his hand.
"It's not too big for your mouth, jerk!" I muttered.

"WHAT WAS THAT?" the bully roared, taking a swing at me. I
ducked, and his fist slammed into a metal shelf by my head,
hard. He let out a cry of pain, and I leapt over a bench
and took off running, my towel dropping as I hit the floor.
Michaels yelled and tore after me, while the other boys
looked on, laughing and yelling.

Everything was a blur as I darted past three rows of
benches and back down the hall into the shower area, with
Scott hot on my heels. Desperately, I spun on my heel and
made a fast 180-degree turn as I hit the far tile wall,
just like a flip-turn in the swimming pool, and came back
at full speed in the opposite direction. Michaels made a
lunge for me, but his hands slipped on my still-wet skin,
leaving red marks down my back. Just as I cleared the
shower doorway, I heard a yell and a satisfying thud close
behind me, as several naked bodies slammed down on the wet
tile floor. Good, I thought. I hope he cracked his skull.

I darted back to my locker, slowing down to a trot as I
became aware of the dozens of wide-eyed boys taking in the
show. I scurried past several on-lookers and hopped over
the last two benches on the end. Ron was already half-
dressed, and he tossed my underwear to me as I reached our
bench. "Thanks, man," I whispered.

"No problem, Wil," he whispered back. "Just hurry!"

"I'm gonna kick your fuckin' ASS, Donkey Boy!" Scott
bellowed from across the room, then began angrily shoving
his way through the crowd, cursing with frustration and
rage. All of them were still staring at me, their mouths
open with surprise.

Just as panic seized me, an older voice called out. "You're
not going to kick anything, Michaels!"

I looked up. It was Coach Lucas, who had emerged from his
office to see what all the commotion was about. He grabbed
Scott by the neck and dragged him over to where I was
standing. My heart was still pounding, but at least by now,
I'd managed to get my underwear on to conceal my throbbing
organ.

"What's all this about?" the Coach barked. The room
immediately fell silent.

"Michaels started it," yelled one kid to my right. "Yeah!"
said another loud voice from the back of the room. "Scott
snapped a towel at the shrimp, and then tried to punch the
kid with the big dick!" Heads turned to look at the
loudmouth from the back, who immediately looked down at the
ground, and muttered, "well, it is."

The coach released the older boy from his grasp and folded
his arms. "Look, you two. I don't have the time to deal
with this bull-crap. Michaels, you aren't gonna start the
year with detention, like you had all last semester?"

"No, SIR," he grimaced.

"You've got an excellent chance to make the varsity squad
this year, Scott. Don't blow it by getting into fights. Put
that anger into the game, son, and not in the goddamned
locker room!"

The coach turned to me. "And you -- you're Larson, right?
You just signed up for the swim team?"

I nodded, meekly.

His voice softened as he looked me right in the eye. "That
goes ditto for you, son. You're new here, and my advice is
to stay out of trouble if you want to make the team."

Lucas was also the Dean of Boys at the school, but
according to Ronnie, he had the reputation of being a
pretty fair guy.

He looked at the two of us. "Gentlemen, I want the two of
you to shake hands and apologize."

Scott stared at me. "But Coach..."

"No buts," said Mr. Lucas. "Just do it."

We shook hands in silence, but Scott shot me a look that
could've melted bricks. I felt him squeeze my hand almost
hard enough to break it, but my expression never changed as
we muttered our apologies.

With that, the coach clapped his hands together. "That's
it, folks -- the show's over. You gentlemen get dressed and
get outta here. The school busses leave in five minutes, so
move it!"

Ron stayed with me while I finished dressing, in silence.
As we walked down the hall to our book lockers, I overheard
a couple of whispers. "Biggest dick I ever saw... shhhh,
here he comes," muttered a tall kid on our left. "Michaels
was right -- it's like a horse dick!" whispered another.
"DONKEY dick, you mean!" More laughter.

Fuck. My first day of high school, and I'm already a
laughing-stock.

We ignored them and trudged out to the front of the school,
just as the last of the busses pulled away. My heart sank.

Ron turned to me and said, "my mom's pickin' me and my
brother up over there. You want a ride?"

"Naw," I said, still embarrassed. "I think I'll just walk
home."

"No, really. Where do you live?"

I gave him quick directions. "Hey, that's only a couple of
miles from our house," he said. "I'm sure it wouldn't be
too much out of our way."

On the ride home, I sat in the front seat and I kept my
comments quiet and polite for Ron's mother. His brother
Rick was an identical clone of Ron, complete with the red
hair, freckles, and goofy looks, only he was a little bit
taller and thinner. Ron chattered the entire way,
occasionally whispering to his brother in the back, but
Rick didn't reply. He looked up at me curiously in the
mirror.

I looked out the window and began wondering if they were
both uncircumcised, then shook the disturbing thought out
of my head. Why was I suddenly having dick on the brain?

They dropped me off in my driveway, but before they drove
away, Ron ran up to me on the porch.

"Thanks for what you did for me back at school, man," he
said, breathlessly.

"I'd do that for anybody, bub," I said, truthfully. "I
can't stand to see that shit."

"And don't listen to what Scott said about you, either," he
grinned. "I bet he's just jealous. My brother says Michaels
used to have the biggest dick in the school. I think you
just beat him!"

I winced and nodded.

"See ya tomorrow, Wil!" he yelled, trotting back to the
car.

I trudged into our living room, threw my books on the
coffee table, and collapsed on the couch. I sighed. I'd
been in high school exactly one day, and I'd already made a
new friend, but also a mortal enemy as well. It looked like
it was going to be a long, fucked year, I thought.

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