By Justoneguy

Jeremy had always been a sweet kid with a soft heart. When he went through puberty, he kept his softer side, but his shy demeanor was augmented with the silent toughness and the need to show off that most young males develop. At 18, he was a little shorter than average, but with a well proportioned, thin framed body lined with smooth muscles that developed through natural metabolism and sports than through conscious working out. He had brown hair that he wore shaggy. Several of the ends of his soft brown hair turned up at the bottom in smooth waves. The hairstyle did well to frame his face, which still betrayed a hint of baby fat. He looked like a typical skater kid who was no doubt only a few years away from morphing into a typical frat boy.

In high school he had taken to wearing his jeans low on his hips, letting them slide down until the loose black belt tugged at his pelvic bones. He wore mostly T-shirts, which did well to show off his newly broadened shoulders. He didn’t have the appearance of a particularly tough young man, but his body was sturdy, and he was doubtless much stronger than he looked. When he first started becoming interested in girls and when his body began to change under the hormones radiating from his testicles, he began to bear himself with confidence. He took to standing with his legs apart, as if inviting the young women in school to follow the line of his thigh to his package. All the guys in his circle of friends carried themselves this way—and for the same reason. They were all ripening into young adults, ready for sexual encounters with girls and to establish their own identity among other men.

It wasn’t long before Jeremy got himself a girlfriend. Her name was Sarah, and she was a beautiful little wisp of a girl, with blond hair usually pulled back. It nearly drove Jeremy mad to kiss her smooth pale neck and dabble with the small hairs under her ponytail. She was a short girl, making her a perfect fit for Jeremy’s slightly below average (for a guy) stature. And her shortness only served to accentuate her ample breasts and wide hips. The two started dating late in their junior year. And walking through the mall, or in the halls at school, or at the football games, they made a striking pair. To the teachers and parents, past middle age themselves and pining in their minds for the wild and exciting days of youth, they seemed a perfect picture of a youthful couple. Jeremy confident, eager, but quiet and masculine; Sarah shy but sweet and womanly.

For months, they made eyes and went out on frivolous dates in between long stretches of hanging out with their respective groups of friends of the same sex. After a time, they began to stay out later together, and to find ways to be alone together in more quiet settings. They began kissing more deeply and touching more freely. And, before long, in the heat of passion that their young ripe bodies drove them, they consummated their young relationship quickly but lovingly. In the months that followed, they explored each other’s bodies more carefully, and learned more skill and care than their natural instincts provided. As they neared the end of high school, they were around each other constantly. They were seen by everyone in the hall—Jeremy with his arm around her; Sarah with hers around his waste and her finger hung from the loop of his jeans. Jeremy’s friends noted how much more confidence he seemed to have. Some of his less experienced peers found themselves vexed with jealousy as they saw them advertise their affection for each other with intimate little touches and squeezes.

But, as High School drew to a close, Jeremy slowly began to notice that Sarah’s attentions to him waned. She wasn’t as quick to return his phone calls. Or to plan their dates firmly in advance. She often said that she was out with her girlfriends. And his own buddies began to whisper behind his back. They told him that she was getting ready to dump him. But Jeremy angrily told them that they didn’t know Sarah like he did. His mind could not even contemplate the idea that she was not devoted to him. She was first in his heart, and if she was pulling away, it had to have been because of something he had done. But when he finally got up the courage to ask what was wrong, she got very quiet.

“You know I care about you Jeremy,” she began.

And he felt his heart sink.

She tried to let him off easily. But he pleaded with her to say why she was leaving him. She finally had to get rather firm with him and tell him that she had been seeing someone else, an army private see meet right before he went to boot camp. He was two years older than they were—a young man in his twentieth year. And a few months before, he had been stationed at the base near their town. When they met again, she found that her affection for him had slowly displaced the sweet little high school romance they had played at. His name was Anthony. And that name burned in Jeremy’s mind.

He took refuge with his old high school buddies. His best friend, in particular, tried to cheer him up. But it was no use. He was angry and hurt. And those feelings brought out behavior in him that was not very pleasant. Slowly, his reputation began to change. He would often rant about “the bitch”, which turned most of Sarah’s friends against him. But he didn’t seem to notice. It made him feel good to insult Anthony and her to the others. That was all the pleasure he could get from her, and he took it.

One night, on the last week of school, a big party was thrown at the home of one of the seniors. Her brother was in college, and he provided enough booze for a quarter of the senior class to party it up into the night. About forty people were there, most of who knew each other at least vaguely. And Sarah showed up with her boyfriend. Anthony strolled into the crowded den with his arm around Sarah’s shoulder. He was several inches taller than Jeremy—as far above the average height for an adult male as Jeremy was below it, and he seemed to tower over the little figure of Sarah. They smiled as they entered the room. Many in the crowd stopped to greet them as they slipped by. Sarah had always been very popular. Anthony made a beeline for the keg in the kitchen. He was at liberty for the weekend and was looking forward to some partying, especially in a setting where he could play the worldly soldier among a bunch of high school girls. Not that he would ever cheat on Sarah. But he, like any other young man, loved to have his ego stroked.

Sarah slipped into the crowd and began chatting it up with several of her friends. Jeremy had been sitting on the couch with a few of his buddies. He had met the keg long before Anthony and Sarah arrived, and when he saw her striding along with that army man, the bitterness in his mind got the better of him. He got up form the couch, with a bit of a stagger, and pushed his way to his former love. Sarah was smiling and laughing with her friends, all excited and chatty about their plans after graduation. One of her girlfriends saw Jeremy coming and leaned over to tell warn Sarah. The smiles on the girls’ faces melted away. “This again,” was the common groan in their minds. Jeremy had been pleasant enough before—they all had a history together of going to movies and hanging out at school. But they had all gotten tired of his hurt puppy-dog slash angry touch guy routine.

Especially Sarah. It had taken some time for her affection for him to completely wear away. She had truly cared for him. The memories of their sweet, experimental, immature romance (as she thought of it) were fond in her mind. They had shared many things together, many firsts. And even after they broke up, and he had taken it so badly, she still harbored tender feelings toward him. She even went so far as to defend him to her girlfriends when they reported the mean spirited comments he would make about her. She considered him a hurt boy, like a puppy alternately squeaking and barking at the cat that had whacked him on the nose. Besides, it stroked her ego to imagine him pining for her. When he got over the shock of the break up, and found himself another girl, she knew he would probably turn back into the sweet guy he had been. But every time their paths crossed, and he gave her that mean stare. Ever time she heard a cruel thing he said about her through the grapevine, her affection for him lowered and lowered. Until now, for the first time, when she saw him coming her way, her own mind welled up with anger.

“Hey girls,” Jeremy said as he broke into the circle of young women. They all looked at this intruder with stone cold faces. One put her hand on Sarah’s shoulder. Jeremy saw the coldness in her eyes. Her jaw was fixed; her lips turned in a frown. Whatever he had intended or planed to saw to them when he watched them from the couch left his mind. But the anger seethed up. And he turned to his ex. “So, that jar head is the meat your fucking now, you little slut.” As soon as the words left his lips, he heart was stabbed with regret. He had just loved her so much. He just wanted to be noticed by her again, to get some reaction from her again.

And boy, did he. Sarah’s friends gasped and moved between the two on instinct. But Sarah’s eyes blazed in anger. And from deep down, she grabbed the nearest weapon in her mind. “You want to know why I left you, Jeremy?” She said, jabbing her finger at him over the protective shoulder of her best friend Cathy. “It’s because you’re hung like a fucking chipmunk!”

The crowd around them seemed to grow quiet. Jeremy saw the hands of the girls go up to their mouths in slow motion. Their lips were twisted into shocked and cruel smiles. Their eyes were all on him. And the started laughing.

Jeremy felt his stomach knot. His chest tingled. He stood with a dumb look on his face, his mouth hanging in an interrupted sneer. The high pitched feminine laughter washed over him. He felt a wave of anger wash over his muscles. He looked into Sarah’s eyes. And he turned to leave.

Anthony stood behind him, a big grin on his clean-shaven face. The shorter young man, the high school skater kid, nearly bumped headlong into him. He almost spilled the two beers in his hands. “Opps, sorry their big guy,” he said with a grin.

And Jeremy’s eyes flashed with unreasoning hatred. Anthony looked over to Sarah and saw the strange looks on the girls’ faces. His brow tensed as he realized that he had just walked into something he didn’t understand. In a rush of humiliated and violent masculine anger, Jeremy pushed with all his strength into the soldier’s chest, sending him staggering backward into several partygoers. The two beers tipped in his hands and splashed stinking liquid all over the front of the army fatigues he wore.

And the Jeremy was gone. He couldn’t remember fighting the crowd or pushing his way out the door. The next thing he knew he was sitting in the parking lot, by himself, between some cars. The pavement was cold under him, but his body felt almost numb. The fucking bitch, the fucking bitch. It was over; she was gone. And not only was she gone, totally gone. But their time together, the love they had, the sweet strong humping of their passion together was destroyed. Cheapened. She was with the “real” man. An hour passed. And the crowd started to thin a little. Jeremy heard car doors close and engines start. Couples were heading out for quiet places to be together. He wasn’t sure if he had fallen asleep or had just been sitting there for a long time. But his bladder screamed at him for relief. He got up and staggered a bit between cars. He saw the lights of the house bright against the dark sky. He heard the noise of the party. At first, he started to head toward the bushes to piss, but curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to know what was happening. He wanted to see Sarah, without her seeing him. He just felt so tired.

He stumbled up the stairs. The memory of his stay in the parking lot was already hazy and vague. He was through the door. There were people around him, but none stopped him or tried to talk to him. People he knew looked at him from across the room, but he avoided their eyes. Sarah and Anthony were no where to be seen. He passed into a dark bedroom, and through to the bright door of a bathroom. He planted his legs and unzipped his pants. He stuck his fingers in and fished for his private member. He pulled it out in a practiced motion. The piss started to flow. He looked at his organ, held in his finger and thumb. An inch of shaft and an inch of red head. The straggly brown hairs of his pubes stuck out around it from his fly. His thumb pressed into the soft tube, making the stream of piss tighten and arch in a different angle. It had been cold outside, he thought. He thought of the times Sarah had sucked on it, his tube. The urine stopped, and he pushed his member back in. He flushed and turned to leave. The room was dark—even more so after standing in the blazing light of the bathroom. But there was someone in the room. A girl.

“She’s just a bitch,” the girl said.

Jeremy felt the weight of her on his chest and shoulders. She had moved over to him and hugged him, her leg snuggling between his.

“I want to make you feel better,” she said. He felt her hair with his hand.

She led him to the bed in the dark room and pushed him onto it. Jeremy’s head was swimming. The softness of the bed felt alien after the distant memory of the parking lot. But he was already hard in his pants. He felt the girl fumble with his clothes. He felt the cool air in the room against his belly button hairs. And he felt her hand free his hard rod. “Huuuuuuuu,” he exhaled hard as in a drunken dream.

He felt a cold hardness against his penis. He felt the girl’s hand clutching at it. And he looked down.

A bright blue-white flash burst into his eyes. He pushed his head back onto the bed, raising a hand to shield his stinging eyes. There was another flash, and another. All he could see was a bright yellow-green blob in his eyes. He heard a little giggle and then was alone on the bed. It was all like a dream. He pulled himself up and pulled up his pants. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Did that even really happen? Jeremy pushed the bedroom door open, and through his red and sticky eyes, he saw the partygoers looking at him. His hair was twisted and his eyes squinty, as if he had just woken up in the morning. Why were they looking at him?

Then he saw a girl, Sarah’s friend Cathy, standing on one side of the room holding up a picture. A Polaroid. “Check out the Chipmunk everybody,” she said with a laugh. He saw some of the guys look at the pictures and hand them away in a gesture of disgust at having been tricked into checking out another guy’s unit. But they also had a laughing grin on their face about what they had seen. The girls in the crowd laughed. Jeremy saw one Junior flash one of the pictures to his girlfriend (a senior) and say: “Guess I’m not so junior after all.”

He staggered outside. He didn’t remember going through the door or stumbling down the stairs. He just remembered dropping in a heap in his old spot between the cars. His body felt impossibly bulky, as if he were a ten-year-old awakening in a teenager’s body. Tears welled in his eyes. The beer he had drunk that night pounded in his head. He cried until he fell back onto the black hard ground. He heard two of his friends calling his name, looking for him. But he couldn’t face them. They were real men. He was a fucking chipmunk.

* * *

Jeremy didn’t remember how he got to his friend Tommy’s house. He just woke up on the couch, fully clothed, with his head pounding. Tommy’s parents were out of town. And his buddy was no where to be seen. Probably passed out in his room. So Jeremy staggered into the bathroom and stripped off his wrinkled and smelly clothes. He turned the water on hot, and stood for a moment as the steam rose around him. Then he stepped inside and tried to wash out his mind as he scrubbed his body. His mind was cloudy, but he remembered what had happened at the party. He remembered it too clearly and too vividly. But he tried to close it off. He tried to think about other things. He ended up thinking of Sarah in the park with him, Sarah driving with him to school, Sarah in his bedroom—rock posters on the walls, her hand down his pants.

He put the palms of his hands on the shower wall and let the water run over him. He let some of the water fall into his mouth and spit it down into the drain. He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. The room was steamy. The mirror and the light fixtures were covered with a cloudy white layer. Jeremy felt beads of water drop from his shoulders and run down his back. He grabbed a clean towel from the rack and began to dry off. He spread the towel over his back and pulled back and forth. He rubbed the rough cloth over each leg, using one hand on either side to cover his muscled thighs. Then he dried his face. And when he lowered the towel from his eyes, he looked at himself in the rapidly clearing mirror. He was a strong fit young man, smooth, with a thick forest of dark brown pubes planted in his groin. And among those curly and coarse hairs stuck his 2” soft pecker. The bright pink head glimmered in the light of the bathroom, its color setting the turtle head off from the surrounding brownness. Underneath his sticking dick hung his nuts. They were large—and appeared even more so next to his undersized dick. And the hung tightly under his body, making two firm oval mounds under his hairy crotch. He looked at himself in the mirror. His manhood.

Jeremy had never really thought about size much. Like any young guy, he was curious how he measured up. He had gone to the medical books and found out that his meat was below average. But that had been years ago. He figured that he would still grow. Then, when Sarah came along, his attentions were focused on her. He wasn’t the kind of guy to glance over at urinals. And had never disrobed in view of others in the locker room. This wasn’t because he thought he had anything to hide. He just never thought about it. He had a dick and balls. Just like every other guy. Didn’t they have pretty much the same?

He looked at himself. My god, he said, I’m a fucking chipmunk.

His friend Tommy was nice enough not to mention anything about he party. Other students were not so kind. The next week of school was the last. And no one, even the lower classmen, felt they had any reason to keep in good with him. The comedy of the moment was too strong for even some of his friends to forbear. The Polaroid photos had been copied over and over and floated around. Jeremy knew that some of the teachers had seen them, although they all pretended not to know what it was all about. It wasn’t long before Jeremy himself saw the images. There it was, recorded for all to see, the short stalk of his manhood. The images showed his erection, bright with the strong flash in the dark room, with an orange plastic ruler pressed against it. There was his manhood, clear as day, all 4.9 inches of it. Jeremy tried to comfort himself by thinking how thick it looked in the photo—but at 4.9” shortness, it would have to be pencil thin NOT to look thick.

As he walked down the hall, strutting with the teenage confidence he had always shown, he would hear people shout “hey chipmunk, how’s it hanging.” The younger guys, freshmen and sophomores who were small and less muscular than the upper classmen, particularly relished poking fun at him. With a flash of humiliation, Jeremy realized they probably were bigger than him—even though he was years older, a senior. Once, when he was standing at the urinal, a few freshmen walked in and saddled up to the others. Although he had never been shy before, Jeremy pivoted his hips slightly toward the wall slightly on instinct. “You afraid we gonna see something, Chipmunk,” one of the freshmen said. “What you got to hide,” said another as they laughed.

Jeremy had never been so down. He avoided most of his friends for the rest of the week, a time when he should have been partying and joking with his fellow graduates. His friend Tommy was the only one who he talked to, and that was only because they worked together as stock boys at the local grocery store. Jeremy had been shy with him at first, but Tommy had acted so normal and casual around him that he gradually came out of his shell. But Jeremy was obviously depressed. Finally, Tommy just broached the subject.

“Look man, I know you are down. What happened was pretty rotten. But you got a lot of people mad at you over these last few months.”

Jeremy didn’t look at him. He just kept stacking the shelves. “I don’t care about that,” he said flatly. “Sarah’s gone anyway. But everybody else… I don’t know. I can’t take what they say.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “Hey man, there is more to a man that what is swinging between his legs. It isn’t even that big a deal. All guys are different.”

Jeremy didn’t answer. The pale whiteness of his cheeks flashed crimson.

Tommy slammed a box of oatmeal on the floor to get his attention. “Look man, you want them to respect you? Challenge this soldier asshole to a Bout. You’re pretty tough. And we used to wrestle as underclassmen, remember. Win or lose, you would show you have the guts to stand up for yourself and not be pushed around. It’s not about size or who your girlfriend is or anything like that. It’s about respect. Think about it.”

Tommy quickly went into the back for more supplies. But his comment really got Jeremy thinking. A Bout was a serious thing—a custom from medieval times. A man could challenge another to a contest of strength, more or less a wrestling match. In the old days, such a contest was nude, but in the last century or so, singlets have been used. Mostly, the contest is about guts. A man is challenged and has to decide whether to stand aside or accept. This isn’t necessarily an easy call. Because there is a chance that the loser of the contest could lose his balls. Mostly, the contests were between a husband and the guy who did wrong to his wife. Or other such situations where men want to make a point. And those who fight, win or lose, are generally regarded as tough, gutsy men. After all, only in certain circumstances does the loser forfeit his balls. And even then, whether they are taken or not is in the hands of the winner, who usually chivalrously spare the loser.

The next day, Jeremy went to the local courthouse and filled out a form challenging Anthony to a Bout. The older gentleman who accepted to form looked at the young man with some skepticism. Lots of high school and college guys come in wanting a Bout. But he can usually talk them out of it. “Son, you sure you want to do this. You’re awfully young to be risking so much. Most young people don’t believe this, but you’re not invincible. And you can lose an awful lot in that ring.”

But Jeremy would not let himself be talked out of it. One way or another, he would show Sarah that he was a real man. Or, maybe Anthony would show he that he really wasn’t.

* * *

When Anthony got the official notice that he had been challenged to a Bout, he thought it was a joke. He didn’t even know this Jeremy kid. And he certainly didn’t like him. Not after what he said to Sarah. One night after they got back to his apartment after a movie, he showed the letter to her, and she went crazy.

The two of them were sitting on the couch making out. He was wearing a wife-beater white T-shirt. And her hands were all over his chest. And his were all over her back. When he started kissing her neck, she glanced at the old coffee table next to the couch and saw Jeremy’s name. “What’s this,” she asked.

“Read it and see,” Anthony had said casually.

Sarah skimmed the letter and tossed it back on the table. What has that idiot done now, she said? Why was he being so difficult? She felt really bad about what she said to him at the party. And worse about what Cathy had done to him with the camera. She assured Anthony that he was just heart sick over them breaking up, and that he wasn’t a bad guy. She didn’t want them to get any deeper into this than they were. “Both of you could get hurt,” she said.

“What about the other guys in my unit? They will hear about this. I have to take the challenge. I’m not going to run with my tail between my legs from some 4 foot tall high school guy.”

“He isn’t 4 feet tall,” Sarah said, a little irritated that her boyfriend was not listening to her plea. “He is a nice guy are heart. And we were together a long time.”

Anthony smirked. “So, I guess you still have feelings for this guy.”

Sarah put her arms around him. “Just memories. He was a sweet guy. And we shared a lot.”

Anthony smiled. When Sarah leaned over to hug him, his rock hard pole stuck into her soft hip through his pants. “He fuck better than me?” he said, giving her a hard kiss.

Sarah laughed. “God no,” she breathed into his mouth. “God no.”

Anthony started to hump his heavy pelvis under her, letting you body feel the eagerness of his seven-inch cock. It was one of his usual signals that he was ready to move into his bedroom before his roommate came home.

But Sarah pulled her mouth from his. “Promise me that you won’t do this. Or if you do, that you won’t hurt him.”

Anthony just smiled his lopsided smile. “Sure baby. I won’t hurt your little first love. Now come here.” They were in the bedroom early that night.

To be continued……