Panty Freaks Part 1, Chapters 1-5

Part 1, chapters 1 - 5

Chapter 1

I think I know exactly when this whole thing started - this penectomy thing that is. Had I not caught that casual glimpse and confronted Larry that day, I'm almost certain this story would never have happened. I might have just grown up to be very a normal guy with a normal family. But let me start from the beginning, as I remember it.

Yes, it must have had its beginning on that bright sunny morning in late spring when Larry and I were in fourth grade. We weren't really best friends then - that came later - we were just playground buddies at the time. Larry sat at the desk just in front of mine and if I hadn't just chanced to look in the right direction at that precise moment this whole thing would probably never have happened.

It just happened that Larry leaned forward and his T-shirt rode up and I caught a glimpse of the waistband of his briefs. This was nothing particularly unusual and normally I would have thought nothing of it, but what I saw caused me to do a double take.

Instead of the familiar broad, white elastic waistband holding up white cotton briefs I saw a tiny waistband no larger than a shoestring and beneath it was a pale blue shiny-looking sheer material. No, it couldn't be, I thought. If I didn't know better I would have thought Larry was wearing a pair of girl's panties!

I looked up and around quickly to see if anyone else had been looking. They hadn't. Perhaps I had been mistaken. This was just too unreal. Larry seemed to be a normal guy; as rowdy and rough-and-tumble as any of the rest of us. I would never figure him for a sissy.

Larry sat up and his T-shirt once more covered the top of his jeans. I would have to wait my chance until he leaned forward once more, but this time I would be prepared and be very observant.

My chance came shortly as Larry leaned forward once again. I was careful not to appear to be staring as I scrutinized the waistband of his underclothes. What I saw confirmed my original suspicion. Larry was wearing panties!

Yes, I knew all too well what panties looked like because I had to help my mom and older sister fold clothes when they came out of the dryer. It always embarrassed me to have to fold a pair of panties. I would handle them gingerly and lay them aside quickly as though they were imbued with some foul curse.

Even so, the garments began to take on an eerie, unholy attraction for me. handling them caused my mind to wander to forbidden thoughts about forbidden body parts. I wondered why women and girls insisted on wearing these sissified things. And in the darkest recesses of my mind, I wondered what it would feel like to slip into a pair of these slick, stretchy little garments. I knew these thoughts had no place inside the head of a very normal, red-blooded boy like myself, and I forced myself to put them aside as quickly as possible.

Now that I was convinced beyond a doubt that Larry was wearing panties, I could only wonder why. No boy I knew would even think of doing such a thing. What could possibly have gotten into Larry? In the few minutes remaining until recess I stole a few more glimpses of the little sissy panty waistband exposed above Larry's jeans. No, I wasn't imagining things; I saw what I saw. This was unreal!

After the bell I caught Larry alone out on the playground and confronted him.

"Hey, Larry," I said, smiling mischievously, "I know your little secret."

"What secret?" he replied nonchalantly.

"You know what secret," I said. "You're wearing something you wouldn't want anyone to know about, and I know what it is."

"How did... what... I don't know what you're talking about, man"

The expression on his face and the tone of his stammering voice told me I had found my mark. My face must have been literally glowing with mischievous glee.

In a low sing-song voice, to the tune of a little playground song, I very softly began to chant,

"Larry's wearing panties!

"Larry's wearing panties!"

"Dude," I said, "if I spread this around school, you know what's gonna happen? Some of the big boys in the fifth grade are going to pull your pants down in front of everybody so they can see!"

Larry could not have looked more pale and shocked if I had run him through with a sword. I'll never forget the terrified look on his little freckled face as he pleaded with his innocent hazel-green eyes. I'm sure at this moment he considered exposure of his secret a fate worse than death, and I'm not sure but what I would have agreed with him. I guess you could say that we both knew that I had him by the balls, except neither of us would have quite known what that meant at the time.

"Pl... please, Mike. I thought you were my friend."

"Then you admit it; you're wearing panties?"

He just nodded his head.

"Why, Larry?" I sounded more serious now.

"Please, Mike. Please promise you won't tell anybody."

"Okay, Larry, I'll promise, but only if you tell me how come you're wearing panties. You gotta tell me all about it, okay?"

Larry was beginning to cry a little now and we went to an area of the playground where we could be alone. I was beginning to feel really rotten for threatening to expose him, but I was obsessed with finding out all the details I possibly could. His story was quite plausible, and comical, although I tried hard not to laugh. I knew if I laughed he would clam up, and I wanted to hear it all.

It seems that when Larry was getting ready for school that morning he couldn't find any briefs in his underwear drawer. His mother had just dumped the dirty ones in the washing machine and every last pair he had was now churning around in the soapy water. Larry just told his mom it would be no problem - he just wouldn't wear underwear that day.

But oh no! Larry's mom wasn't about to allow her little boy to go out of the house not wearing underwear of some kind. She said she had just the solution. Larry would have to wear a pair of his younger sister's panties that day.

Larry said he protested wildly, begging his mom to allow him to wear an old pair of athletic shorts or even a swimsuit underneath his jeans, but she would hear none of it. Larry's mother ruled her home with an iron fist and once she had made up her mind she would not be defied. I can only imagine how poor Larry must have sputtered and stammered in hopeless protest as his mom emerged from his sister's bedroom holding that pair of tiny little pale blue panties. Larry said his mom grinned devilishly as she observed his reaction.

"When I got a good look at the panties," he said, "I almost felt relieved because I thought this wasn't going to work - they were way too small. They'd never fit. Then Mom laid them down at my feet and told me to step into the little leg holes. When I did, she just grabbed the waistband and pulled them up my legs."

"And they fit?" I asked.

"Yeah, they just stretched, it was awful. I could tell by the way Mom was smiling that she knew it would work all along. And, Mike, it... it felt... like... well, like she had just turned me into a girl! She said if I had to pee to just go in a stall and sit down and pee like a girl."

Larry started sobbing, trying hard to hold back the tears, but he couldn't keep from crying. I put my arm on his shoulder and tried to soothe him.

"It's okay, man, it's okay. And I won't tell anybody, I promise. This is just our little secret - just me and you."

Larry seemed to feel a little better after that and he composed himself. Soon the bell rang and recess was over. Returning to the classroom, I felt a strange new excitement I couldn't explain. Listening to Larry's story gave me that same nervous, naughty feeling I got from folding my mom's and sister's panties when they came out of the dryer, only more so - much more so! The excitement I felt within me was a little like getting a new toy for Christmas, or going to see a really good movie, or getting out of school for the summer. It was a little like all of those things, yet different too.

I couldn't get my mind off Larry and his panties, and I even imagined what it might be like if my mom had forced me to wear them. The feeling I got from thinking about it was so strange - so intriguing.

When school let out for the day, as everyone was heading for the busses, I walked up to Larry and put my arm on his shoulder. He looked at me expectantly, yet a little apprehensively.

"Say, man," I said. "I'm sorry about what I said this morning, about telling and all. I would never tell, Larry. Even if you hadn't talked about it, I would never have told. I just wanted you to know that."

He looked back at me and smiled. There was gratitude in his eyes.

"Thanks," he said, and with that, he got on his bus.

We didn't mention the incident again that week, and it looked like it was going to pass as though it had never happened. However, I was too intrigued by this thing to just let it die. If the truth be known, I think I felt a little cheated. After all, it was really Larry who had got to have all the fun. He got to wear the panties for a whole day and know what it felt like to be entrapped within that sheer, stretchy, sissifying, material - forced by his mother to practically become a girl for a day.

It was only after Larry's experience that I admitted to myself that when I was folding clothes from the dryer, gingerly handling a pair of panties, that in the darkest recesses of my imagination I longed to feel, if ever so briefly, the sensation of that slick, stretchy nylon engulfing my secret parts. I couldn't get the image out of my head, of Larry's mom grinning with impish satisfaction as she pulled those skimpy little panties up his legs, suddenly engulfing his crotch and butt - making him feel and look like a girl.

The next week, when Larry and I were alone on the playground, I broached the subject again.

"Larry, you remember last week, the day you wore those... ah... panties?"

He looked apprehensive and took a step back.

"I thought you weren't ever going to talk about that again. You promised, remember?"

"I promised not to tell anybody, and I won't. But I want to talk to you about it."

"What's there to talk about. It happened and it's over."

"Well, I've been thinking, Larry. It's not fair that I know this on you and you don't know anything on me. I've figured out a way to make things even and we would both know something on each other so we could be sure the other would never tell."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's pick a day and both wear panties to school that day. Only you and me will know. It'll be our special little secret. Do you think you will have any trouble sneaking a pair of your sister's panties?"

I watched a grin come across Larry's face that told me he was as intrigued by this little scheme as I.

"No, I wouldn't have any trouble getting another pair of panties," he said, still grinning.

"Good," I said, "neither will I. Let's make sure we have the panties first, then we'll pick a day."

"Mike," he said, looking apprehensive again, "what if you chicken out and don't do it? I'll just be stuck wearing them again, just like last week."

"Well, what if you did the same to me? But I trust you, Larry, because you're my special friend. That's why this is such a special secret. It takes really special friends to do a dare like this. Do you trust me?"

Larry nodded his head and smiled. We made up a little oath, crossed our hearts and hoped to die and the compact was sealed.

I was so nervous I was almost shaking as I listened for the buzzer on the dryer to sound. My mom and sister were watching a television show and I knew they would wait until the show was over before folding the clothes. This gave me a chance quietly sneak into the laundry room and filch the panties. Carefully concealing them inside one of my own folded T-shirts, I slipped back to my room. This had been easy, but I had to make sure the panties were my sister's and not my mom's or they would be too big.

It was the last week of school and Larry and I had selected Wednesday as the big day. This would give us a chance to come back to school and secretly talk about our little escapade after it was over. I'll never forget that morning though. To tell the truth I almost backed out. If it hadn't been for honoring my pact with Larry I'm sure I would have backed out.

Just minutes before leaving for school I pulled off my white cotton briefs, carefully folded them and placed them back in my underwear drawer. I retrieved the panties from their hiding place, and while holding the forbidden garment gingerly in my shaking hands, a queasy feeling came up in my stomach, like when riding a roller coaster. I stepped into the leg holes and felt the elastic bands seductively caress my young skin as I slowly pulled the panties up my legs and engulfed my crotch in the slick, stretchy nylon.

I stepped in front of the mirror and gasped aloud. I couldn't believe how donning this simple garment made me look so much like a girl. I'm sure at my young age, a little makeup and a wig would have done a pretty convincing job anyway, but this changed me where it really counted - between the legs! I imagined the shock poor Larry must have felt that morning his mother did this to him, grinning with devilish amusement as she sissified him before her eyes.

I had little time to linger or contemplate, however, as it was time to be out the door and on my way to school. When I pulled up my jeans I was overwhelmed with the strange feel of sturdy denim against slick, sheer nylon. The silky material seemed to amplify tactile sensations the way a microphone amplifies sound. I could feel every seam, every hem, and every brad in my jeans.

As I bounded for the door, one of my greatest fears was that my jeans would slip down and expose me (I never wore a belt). Compared to my cotton briefs there was hardly any friction between my jeans and my panties. I could see that keeping my pants up was going to be a major concern.

With every step, the coarse denim fabric and heavily stitched and riveted seams assaulted my sensitive sissified crotch like a vicious dog nipping at a helpless rabbit. I had never felt more vulnerable in all my life. That queasy roller-coaster feeling welled up into my gut again and I could only think, this must be how it feels to be a girl!

At school, as soon as my eyes met Larry's we both grinned a sheepish, knowing grin. Each of us quietly confided to the other that we had "done it." At first recess we went into the restroom and pulled down our pants just enough to confirm our sissified attire underneath. Larry had apparently learned a lesson from last week, as I noticed he was wearing a belt. (Cheater!) However, I had chosen a T-shirt that was slightly larger so it would be easier cover the waistband of my jeans.

I went through that day with a feeling of naughty exhilaration. Within the constraints of my youthful mind I had to some degree rationalized that what Larry and I were doing was more naughty than sissy. Having a coconspirator in this helped to reinforce that thought.

On returning home that afternoon I went into my bedroom, locked the door, slipped out of my jeans, and just stood momentarily in front of the mirror. The long tail of my T-shirt dropped low enough that it looked like a little micro-dress with just the bottom of my panties showing. It was actually frightening how much I looked like a girl standing there like that. Oh what a terribly fragile thing was my sexual identity!

I began rubbing my hands softly over silky nylon fabric of my panties and that queasy feeling came up in my gut again. I resisted an unsavory urge to lay down on the bed and keep rubbing myself. Quickly slipping off the panties, I took a pair of cotton briefs from my underwear drawer, pulled them on, and put my jeans back on over them. In spite of my infatuation with the unspeakable naughtiness I had just committed, I felt relieved to be a normal boy once again.

Chapter 2

I wouldn't see Larry again until school started in the fall, and that summer proceeded without major incident. I went back to doing all the boyish, rough-and-tumble things that normal red-blooded boys do. I climbed trees, played sand-lot baseball, and shot hoops with other boys on my block.

In midsummer my parents sent me away to church camp for two weeks. That was normal. Our church was very small, but church camp was made up of boys from all over the state. There were almost a hundred of us there.

I remember that I kept my eyes and ears attuned to anything pertaining to people's private parts. I didn't understand exactly how those things worked, but I realized that I was beginning to develop an unhealthy interest in them. I knew this was naughty and sinful and I tried dutifully to suppress my curiosity. After all, this was church camp!

A couple of times I heard some of the older boys telling dirty jokes in the showers. Normally I would have shied away from such talk as my parents had warned me to stay away from boys with filthy minds. I heard a couple of jokes about salesmen and farmers daughters that I thought I vaguely understood. (Looking back, I realize I didn't get them at all.) Then a boy told a joke about "the baldheaded mouse" which was about a guy who stuck his ding-dong through a knot hole in the wall and a woman swatted it. This one I understood and the thought of making myself vulnerable like that, not knowing what was on the other side of that wall, made me kind of queasy and tingly inside. It was a little scary and a little exciting. Above all though, I knew it was very naughty.

I remember looking at the photo galleries in the halls. The camp was built back in nineteen twenty-something and they had pictures of the boys participating in activities all the way back to the first year. The pier on the little lake, and the swimming area hadn't changed much since then. The biggest thing I noticed though was the difference in the boys' swim trunks. In the 1950's and earlier, they wore little briefs that looked very much like stretchy little panties, only the material was thicker and maybe tougher. Then, as the decades progressed, the legs became longer and the fit looser until the boys were finally wearing knee-length baggies like we wear today.

Some of the other boys laughed about how dorky and sissy those little trunks looked, but I secretly wished we still had to wear them. Of course I thought they looked sissy, but that was their attraction for me. I imagined what it must feel like to have that heavy, stretchy nylon engulf my crotch and make me look like a girl. I tried to imagine being with a whole group of boys similarly attired, and just running around the camp as though it were normal. I imagined twenty or thirty boys, sissified, with their crotches engulfed in stretchy nylon spandex making them look like girls between the legs.

That's how it was in those days before baggies were "in" and the boys ran around in public like that and thought nothing of it. That thought made that little queasy, tingly feeling come back into my stomach.

That night I lay awake for a while in my bunk thinking about it. It was then that I remember having an erection (although that word wasn't in my vocabulary yet). I had had two or three before in the bathtub at home, but they always went away quickly. I really had no idea what caused them and never thought much about them. However, this was the first time I remember having an erection from naughty thoughts; the first time I connected what was going on between my legs with what was going on inside my head. Now I sort of understood what those older boys were talking about when they mentioned getting a boner. I must be having a boner, I thought.

I looked around carefully to see if the other boys were asleep before quietly raising my sheet and peeking at myself. There was a bright moon shining through the bunkhouse window making it easy for me to see. My little ding-dong had grown and was causing the front of my briefs pooch out. Cautiously, I parted the material around my fly and allowed my ding-dong to protrude. I felt very daring and naughty, and that queasy, tingly feeling was coming up strongly in my gut.

The soft moonlight shining through the sheet made my tanned legs stand out in contrast against my white briefs. My legs looked a lot like a girl's legs, I thought. I remembered the day Larry and I had dared each other to wear panties to school under our jeans and all those strange sensations I had felt through that slick, stretchy fabric. I wished so badly to be in panties at that moment, with the slick, sissifying fabric engulfing my crotch, making me look and feel like a girl.

Confusing thoughts and emotions raced through my young head. Enamored with visions of my own sissification, my little ding-dong seemed out of place and in the way. Yet at the same time it was responding to the fantasies in my head with a strange life of its own, and was as much the focus of my attention as my imagined sissification.

I lay there captivated with the strange new feelings that were racing through my mind and body. Gripped by the naughty excitement of my thoughts, my gut and chest were filled with that queasy, tingly feeling; it was stronger than ever. A subtle euphoria engulfed my whole being. It was almost as though I was eagerly expecting something to happen; something unspeakably naughty and sissified.

For several minutes I lay there, my mind awash in these strange new emotions, periodically raising the sheet to sneak a peek or touch myself. The tops of my thighs were tingly and sensitive; my chest and stomach felt like I was riding downhill on a roller coaster. But most of all, my little ding-dong felt like it was about to explode. I had never seen it grow so large. Whenever I brushed the cool soft sheet across the tip of my ding-dong a spine-tingling shudder would run through my body. My little ding-dong was at the focus all these strange new feelings, yet in my mind I fantasized it wasn't there at all!

Totally unable to comprehend what was happening to me, I just lay there doing nothing but savoring these strange new emotions. Presently my euphoria was replaced by a strange sense of loneliness - almost a kind of sadness. Like the other feelings, I had never experienced this before. I wasn't homesick - I had been there, done that. This was different. I was having fun at camp and was not at all ready to go home. I wouldn't dare let my parents know the feelings and fantasies I was having at the moment. In fact, there wasn't even another boy at the camp with whom I would dare share this. But I desperately needed to share this with someone; someone who would understand. It was then my thoughts turned to Larry. If only Larry were here! I could tell Larry all about this and we could talk about stretchy swim trunks and panties and all that stuff. He would understand.

Suddenly, I heard another boy, a couple of bunks down, snort and roll over in his bunk. I tensed and wondered if he had seen me peeking at myself under the sheets. I nonchalantly rolled onto my side and drew my knees toward my chest. Fearing discovery, my naughty thoughts subsided quickly and my ding-dong soon shrank to normal size. Quietly I slipped it back into the relative safety and modesty of my cotton briefs. I still had that lonely feeling, but when I thought about seeing Larry at school again that fall I felt better. With the moonlight falling on my face and my head filled with thoughts of talking about all this with Larry, I soon fell asleep.

Chapter 3

I was disappointed to learn that Larry and I had been assigned to different sections for most of our classes. We only shared one afternoon English class. However, we began to hang out regularly at lunch and recess. I suppose that fall is when we began to consider ourselves to be really best friends.

Several weeks went by and neither of us mentioned panties, stretchy nylon trunks, or anything like that. We talked about the normal, wholesome things we did that summer, like baseball and fishing. Larry’s mom had taken him and his sister, Nicole, to Florida to visit her brother. (Larry’s mom and dad were divorced.) They had stayed down there a whole month and Larry’s uncle had taken him out on a boat, deep sea fishing, several times. I was a little envious; my dad made good money, but we never did anything like that.

Weeks passed, and it appeared now that my little foray into the realm of sexual unwholesomeness might be over. I still entertained deviant thoughts in the recesses of my own mind, but they remained strictly private. Although I constantly tried to come up with an excuse to broach the subject, I couldn’t even talk about these things with Larry.

I had to do something to keep this idea alive. The experience I had last spring and that summer at camp, touched some dark chord deep within me. It was so compelling, so alluring, drawing me ever further into its intoxicating grasp. I couldn’t just let this die!

Finally, in desperation, one afternoon at recess, I decided to approach Larry again.

I’ll have to admit I was scared. Larry was my best friend now and I was afraid if he got the idea I was some kind of pervert he would never have anything to do with me again. Losing Larry’s friendship; that’s what I was afraid of.

"Hey, man," I said, "you know that little thing we did last spring?"

Larry looked confused at first. Then I saw a broad smile break out on his freckled face.

"You mean that thing… you mean what we wore under our clothes?

"Yeah, you know it’s the last week before Halloween now, and I thought it would be kind of neat to do something naughty like that again. You know, it would be for Halloween.

"I’m game if you are," Larry said, grinning broadly. "Say, I know what! Let’s wear them to the Halloween carnival Friday night. I dare you!"

"Count me in, man!" I replied. "But I will be wearing a belt!"

"Meeeee too!" said Larry, laughing.

When the bell rang for us to return to class, we were giggling like a couple of girls.

The annual Halloween carnival was a big family event at our school. Of course Larry and I weren’t old enough to drive and we depended on our parents to take us to the carnival. When we had worn our panties during the regimented activities of a regular school day, there was some sense of predictability and control. However, being out in the world at large, at night, depending on our parents for transportation, added an element of vulnerability that enhanced our excitement.

This innocuous little event, silly and insignificant as it was, started things to rolling with me and Larry. The following Monday, Larry brought a catalog to school with pictures of dance costumes and gym wear. The catalog was an old one that Larry’s mother had discarded. It depicted both young men and young women wearing stretchy, spandex tights.

"I just wanted to show you," Larry said. "They make things like that for boys and it’s supposed to be okay for boys to wear them."

"Does your mom ever order from that catalog?" I asked.

"Yeah, she gets her aerobics clothes from there, and Nicole’s dance costumes too. She wanted me to take dance, but I said, no way!"

"Why don’t you, man? It might be fun."

"It’s too sissy, man," Larry replied. "You know, it’s not like doing it on a dare, just for fun. When you put on those little tights and go out on stage, that’s for real!"

We both laughed.

"Say!" Larry said. "I’ll do it if you will."

"Do what?"

"I’ll tell my mom," said Larry, "that I changed my mind and I’ll take modern dance. But only if you do it too."

"Well, I’m not sure my parents would let me do it. In fact I know they wouldn’t. They don’t even believe in dancing. They say it’s sinful. My dad says boys and girls shouldn’t even go swimming together, you know, exposing their bodies to each other."

I expected Larry to call me a chicken, but he didn’t. I think he understood. He had met my mom and dad and knew I was telling the truth.

I told Larry about the pictures I had seen at church camp and how boys all used to wear stretchy little swimsuits that looked like panties - even grown men used to wear those things. This began an awareness, on our part, of a whole new world of apparel. Articles of clothing we had ignored in the past, now became an obsession. The word "fetish" was not yet a part of our youthful vocabulary, but we were both developing a strong one.

We scoured the library and magazine racks for anything pertaining to our new obsession. Although limited by our meager financial resources at the time, we collected comic books depicting super heroes in tights; wrestling magazines; and any sports magazines with photos of men in Spedos. Our largest source of material, though, was catalogs similar to the one that Larry had brought to school that day. The best part about catalogs was that they were usually free.

My parents allowed me to visit Larry after school and sometimes we would spend the night at each other’s houses. I felt much more comfortable staying at Larry’s though. We didn’t have to be so careful of what we talked about. We kept most of our stash of magazines and catalogs at his house.

Larry’s mom was cool. She had turned part of her living room into a sort of gym, with a treadmill and some weights. A lot of times when I would visit there, she would be working out and just wearing her aerobics tights. I thought Larry’s mom was very beautiful.

When Larry had first told me about his mom forcing him to wear panties that day, I imagined her to be very mean and ugly. I realized now that she didn’t do that to be mean to Larry. When Larry had run out of underwear that day, his mom just saw that as her chance to have a little fun. That was her way of being teasing and naughty. Larry and I were both beginning to learn about naughty feelings and I sort of understood.

Larry’s mom actually gave him all her old costume and swimsuit catalogs. She said she knew boys liked to look at those things and thought it was harmless. I don’t think she realized that at that time we were looking at the pictures of the boys as much as the girls.

We were trying to figure out where we fit into this scheme.

During last week of school Larry and I picked a day and wore panties to school again. We had started a tradition that we would maintain throughout high school. We would always pick a day during the last week of school and wear panties, and we would always wear panties to the Halloween carnival in the fall.

Chapter 4

School hadn’t much more than begun the following fall - we were in sixth grade - when coach Robins called all of us boys together in the dressing room. We figured we were in trouble for something; what, we didn’t know.

However, once he had us all gathered around he opened a small cardboard package. He held up a contraption that looked like a cross between a pair of briefs and a slingshot. Coach Robins told us from now on a jockey strap would be required apparel in gym class. No boy would be allowed on the gym floor without one. We were just getting to the age where our genitals were beginning to develop and we would have to get used to protecting our fragile balls.

Furthermore, Coach Robins told us we could only use bona-fide athletic supporters. He didn’t want to see any swim trunks, fancy briefs, or any stuff like that. He didn’t care what brand we purchased as long as they were real athletic supporters.

"It figures," Larry said, after the coach had left. "I knew there had to be a catch. Boys are bigger and stronger than girls; we don’t have babies, and we don’t have periods. But if we get out and do fun stuff we gotta wear these stupid things the rest of our lives so we don’t ruin our balls." Larry looked disgusted.

My own sentiments ran pretty much the same as Larry’s. Even with our private little fetish about tight stretchy undergarments, there was no way we considered jockey straps sexy. The things just looked stupid!

The next day all of us showed up for gym class with our required jockey straps. Two guys hadn’t bought theirs yet and they were sent to the bleachers to study while we worked out and played volleyball on the floor. They both got an F for the day. From the comments I overheard in the dressing room I don’t think any of the guys were exactly crazy about the idea of having to wear a jockey strap from now on. Those jock straps felt just as stupid as they looked!

After class I told Larry about my dad taking me to the store to buy my jock strap. My dad said he had been required to wear one in the Army and his father before him had worn one too. He figured they must be pretty important because all athletes have to wear them and even the Army requires them.

"Yea," said Larry, sheepishly. "I had to ask my mom to take me to get mine. She thought it was funny. She said that most men’s underwear looks dorky because of the junk we have between our legs. Only girls get to wear really cool sexy-looking panties and stuff. She said that’s because girls don’t have all that dorky stuff between their legs. Then Mom just laughed and told me to deal with it."

As though it had been purposely timed, during the next few weeks our science teacher gave us our first sex education class. This cleared up a lot misinformation and scattered fragments of knowledge I had gleaned from rumors and dirty jokes. I was careful not to mention our sex-ed class to my parents. I knew they didn’t believe the schools should be teaching such things. I was afraid they might pull me out of that class or even out of school if they knew.

I learned what was meant by ejaculation and masturbation, and realized I had not yet done that. The boys in our class were getting to the age where we would all start soon. I’m sure some of them already had. I think I understood now why our minister was against sex education in schools. He said it would lead to early experimentation, and I’m sure he was talking about masturbation. That was a terrible sin.

A few days later we were in the locker room in gym when Darrell, the class clown said, "You know what dudes, I think I’ll jerk off!"

Darrell was a big cut-up and wasn’t afraid to do anything, but I’m sure it was no accident that he picked a day when Coach Robins was away on a football road trip. An assistant had to watch the whole gym (and he spent most of his time watching the girls).

Wearing nothing but a tee-shirt, Darrell was naked from the waist down. He sat on a wooden bench, leaning back against the wall as he gripped his member. His locker door was open in front of him and he had a magazine picture of a cute teenage singing star taped to it. The girl in the picture wasn’t nude, but she was dressed very scantily and had a provocative smile on her face. Darrell stared at her picture as he began to pump his member.

The rest of us just sort of stood back and watched - at what we considered to be a safe distance. We wanted to be far enough away that we could argue we weren’t participating if anyone came in. Yet Darrell’s little exhibition was holding us spellbound.

Darrell continued staring at the picture and jerking off. His breathing was heavy and he began to sigh and moan. Soon Darrell began to grunt and groan loudly as he thrust his hips up and down, banging his butt against the wooden bench. The bench scooted out several more inches from the wall in response to his antics.

Suddenly Darrell let out a deep throaty grunt, as though he were trying to lift some heavy object. A spurt of white milky fluid shot from the end of his penis, squirting several feet and hitting the picture of the girl on his locker. This spurt was quickly followed by several others of less range and velocity. Thick ropes of the white viscous fluid were spattering onto the tile floor in front of the bench.

For several seconds Darrell’s face held an expression of relief and deep satisfaction as he pumped the remaining semen from his member. He exhaled with a long sensuous "Aaaaaahhhhhhh" before looking up and smiling at us.

"I needed that!" Darrell exclaimed, getting up from the bench.

Sticking his finger into the glob of semen running down the girl’s picture, he smeared the thick fluid all over her body and face in the photograph.

"There you go, babe. It was good for me. Was it good for you?" Darrell laughed naughtily and several uneasy chuckles arose from the onlookers.

"You know," he continued, addressing us now, "they tell me if you hit a girl’s picture with that first shot of cum, it means you’ll get in her pants someday."

Darrell looked back at the picture. "That’s right, babe - me and you. Yeah!"

Darrell sauntered off to the showers, cool and nonchalant as usual. Globs of semen still lay on the floor in front of the bench, and another glob was still running down the side of a metal locker. Chattering and mumbling broke out among the boys as they began discussing the little spectacle they had just witnessed.

Larry and I just looked at each other and kind of smiled. One of the boys - I didn’t see who - threw some paper towels down over the globs of semen in the floor before we left the locker room.

Chapter 5

After watching Darrell’s exhibition I was eager to try out my new knowledge, however, I was literally scared shitless at the thought of getting caught masturbating. I knew how my mom and dad felt about the subject and I wouldn’t dare experiment unless I knew both my parents and my older sister would be gone from the house. Those times were rare.

Larry, on the other hand, had a much more tolerant and understanding mom. I doubted that he would want to advertise the fact that he was masturbating, but discovery wouldn’t mean the end of the world for him. And since Larry’s mom took his sister to dance lessons regularly, Larry often had the house to himself for a few hours.

So by Friday of that week I was still a virgin (a hand virgin, so to speak).

"Well, have you done it yet?" asked Larry.

"Done what?"

"You know what." he said, grinning.

"I ah… haven’t been able to get away from my parents," I told him. "You know how they feel about those things. How about you - you done it?"

Larry grinned even more broadly. "I’ll tell you, man, it feels even better than you think it’s going to. But be careful. I could hardly walk for an hour after I did it. It really takes something out of you, man!"

I simply looked back at him with envious fascination.

"You know what else I did?"

"No, what?"

Larry looked around apprehensively. Other students were getting within earshot.

"I’ll tell you what, man; are you coming over this weekend?"

"Yeah, I think I can."

"Good. I’ll tell you then."

Saturday afternoon found me at Larry’s house. Larry’s mom took Nicole to dance lessons leaving me and Larry alone in the house. Without either of us saying a word I followed Larry to his bedroom and we started taking off our clothes. We knew what we were going to do.

"This is just what I did the other day," said Larry, reaching into a dresser drawer and pulling out a dance wear catalog. "I wanted to do just like Darrell. I was going to pick out a girl in the catalog and jerk off to her."

"And?" We were both naked now.

"Then I had an idea. I thought it might make it more fun." Larry looked at me and grinned. He took a pair of panties from the same drawer and slipped them on.

"I… I didn’t bring any," I said, surprised and excited.

Still grinning, Larry reached back into the drawer and handed me a pair of panties.

"Won’t… won’t your sister miss these?"

"She has plenty. Besides, they all wind up in the same laundry anyway. It doesn’t matter who wears them."

I slipped the panties on and we stood in front of Larry’s full-length mirror looking at ourselves. Our appearance in the mirror was alluring and haunting. It was surreal. It was kind of like looking at the girls in the catalogs, but it was a little like we were becoming girls too.

This was scary. Something inside of me was telling me - screaming at me - to put my real clothes back on and become a real boy again. This was so sissified and unnatural! But I stood there transfixed.

There was something so erotically delightful about what I had just done. At that moment I didn’t care if I ever became a real boy again, and that scared the shit out of me! Some mysterious inner force, more powerful than I, more powerful than all my Victorian upbringing was taking control of my will and my actions. I didn’t really want to be a girl, just a sissified boy like the one I was looking at in the mirror!

"See, I told you it would be more fun," Larry said, grinning at me in the mirror.

My guts were churning with that same queasy feeling I got when I put on panties to wear to the Halloween carnival or on the last week of school, only it was much stronger now. I remembered that night at church camp with the moon shinning in the window. This feeling was a lot like that, only stronger.

I felt a tingle between my legs and my heretofore turgid penis started to become erect. Larry’s erection was growing too, making a tent in the front of his panties.

"Damn, there it goes," Larry said, with a note of dejection in his voice. "It looks good until you start getting up a boner, then it just looks dorky."

"Yeah, I see what you mean," I replied. "I guess that’s why panties look better on girls, you think?"

"Maybe this will help," he said, flipping his penis upward so it made a small ridge pointing toward the waistband.

I followed suit. "Yeah, it’s better than having a tent in your crotch."

"I wish it wasn’t there," Larry said. "It’s in the way."

That statement surprised me and I started to argue, but then I remembered that night at church camp when I had my first naughty boner. I had imagined my ding-dong wasn’t even there. I knew what Larry was feeling and I felt it now too. I wished it wasn’t there!

I started flipping through the pages of the costume catalog and we started commenting on how cute some of the girls looked. I fixated on a tall lanky blonde in a very skimpy costume. The girl didn’t seem that much older than me or Larry, but she had a haughty, condescending smile that seemed to say she knew just how to handle naughty little boys. I told Larry I would be looking at her picture when I jerked off, just like Darrell did looking at that singing star.

"Would you like for me to do you?" Larry asked.

That statement took me by surprise. "Do me?"

"Sure, you know, jerk you off, but you’ll have do me next."

"Yeah… yeah that sounds great." I was still surprised and very excited.

"Just lay back on the bed," he said. "All you gotta do is look at that girl’s picture. I’ll take care of everything else."

Larry was grinning impishly. "Don’t forget, I’m experienced," he said, snickering.

I flipped to a page in the catalog that had several poses of my chosen model showing off skimpy exercise and dance costumes. I riveted my attention to the photographs and tried to imagine it were she who was rolling down the waistband of my panties and gingerly gripping my little ding-dong. This was so unreal and wonderful!

That queasy roller coaster feeling came up in my stomach and my chest and my thighs felt tingly and weak. I had experienced brief hints of these sensations before, but they had never progressed this far, never felt this intense.

Suddenly Larry (I tried to imagine it was the girl in the catalog) squirted some thick creamy hand lotion on my ding-dong. His hand slipped and slid as he pumped. I was losing it now. The room seemed to spin and rock. It was like being in a dream.

I felt like I needed to piss in the worst way, but I wasn’t trying to hold it. I just relaxed and let it happen. Fixating on the smiling condescending face of the cute blonde model, a wonderful seductive feeling of utter helplessness engulfed me. Babbling and gasping in a queasy spinning dream I ejaculated for the first time in my life.

Almost losing consciousness I allowed the catalog to fall on my face. Larry laid it to one side while I just lay there gasping and shaking. The experience was at once wonderful and devastating. I was having to redefine my concept of enjoyment and happiness. I had never realized such feelings were possible.

"I told you you’d like it," Larry said, a smug smile on his freckled face.

"Yeah," I gasped. "You were right. I can’t walk."

Larry giggled.

Of course I could have probably walked if necessary, in an emergency. But I didn’t want to walk, didn’t want to move. There was no incentive for it. I just wanted to lie there and allow the experience to soak in.

When I had sufficiently recovered it was Larry’s turn. He grabbed a swimsuit catalog and flipped to his favorite spread while I did the honors. It was a strange feeling holding another boy’s ding-dong in my hand. In a way I felt like I didn’t want to touch it and in another way it felt kind of neat.

The delightful sensation of running my fingers over the slick stretchy nylon fabric of Larry’s panties made me acutely aware of my own sissified attire. I wondered what it would feel like to be doing this with a girl. I even wondered what it would feel like to be a girl, and once again imagined that my penis didn’t exist, wasn’t there.

Even though I was dutifully pumping Larry’s little ding-dong I imagined him without it. I visualized both of us slick, without penises, wearing panties. We would be like girls, but not really girls either. We would just be two sissified boys without ding-dongs.

Lightly running the fingers of my left hand over Larry’s panty-clad buttocks and abdomen, I slipped my hand into his crotch, lightly tickling and caressing his small testicles. I was just about to reach for the lotion and return Larry’s favor in kind when, suddenly, Larry spread his legs slightly, shrieked, and shot off.

Taken by surprise, a few drops of semen hit me in the face before I could duck. I was disappointed that I hadn’t got to use the lotion on Larry - it felt so good when he did it to me. I was going to tell Larry I was sorry, but the expression on his face communicated utter bliss. Anymore pleasure and I think he would have passed out.

We sat around in the afterglow, wearing panties and looking at the catalogs. Filled with euphoria over our newly discovered feelings, we realized we had just entered a new and potentially wonderful stage of our lives.

Continued in part 2

Farrell Squire