The Year I Stopped Being Invisible - 2. Chapter 2

I might have mentioned how I tend to zone out sometimes. It was about a 1-1/2 mile walk from Polk High to my new home at Rex and Tynah's house, and I honestly don't remember any details from that walk. My head was swimming with what I saw after lunch. I got through Biology and History without much effort, alternating between thinking about my lunchtime encounter with Taine Maxwell and my dread of 5th period P.E. class.

I was fifteen years old, and the Puberty Fairy had yet to sprinkle me with her magic dust. We hadn't stripped in P.E. yet, as the first day was orientation with Coach Carruthers and the second day was basically a study hall as we waited to get our official Polk High School gym gear. But this was the big day, and I had already seen enough armpit hair under my male classmates' tank tops, muscle shirts and T-shirts to know that showering was going to be an enormous embarrassment.

I had a few soft, downy hairs in my pubic area, just above my still-undersized boy parts, but nothing to write home about, and my armpits were completely smooth. I felt like a child who would soon be humiliated in a room full of grown, hairy men, and -- after we ran around the gym like idiots for half an hour playing basketball -- that's exactly what happened.

As I stripped down for the compulsory shower, which was held in a large, open space with showerheads lining the walls, I lowered my head and scoped out the competition. Just as I feared, I was surrounded by enlarged, hairy, pubescent cocks and swinging hairy balls, while my own bald nubbin and almond-sized nuts in a bare scrotal pouch made me look like a baby.

Why was I even in high school yet with this pitiful lack of equipment? As I looked around, though, I found one person worse off than myself.
He was a fat, sweaty kid named Paul, and his thimble-sized organ made me look like a champion of manhood. He sat, quiet and embarrassed on one of the A-frame dressing benches, hurrying to dry his giant, soft frame with a clearly inadequate towel so that he could get dressed before anyone noticed. Just then, Rolando walked over to him. Rolando was a fat, hairy Hispanic kid who boasted a furry chest, stomach, legs and a gigantic uncircumcised hairy dong.

He strutted toward Paul, stopped before him, and said in a booming, heavily-accented voice: "Hey Paul! Paul! Why is your penis so small, Paul?"
I had never seen anyone blush all over before, but Paul's shame turned his fat body into a striking facsimile of a pink elephant as the embarrassed redness covered his paunchy frame and Rolando's big hairy dick mockingly swung inches from his face. I looked into his eyes, and could see them brimming with tears. He put down his head and didn't answer. As Rolando strutted away, I saw tears falling between Paul's pudgy feet.

The exchange filled me with rage, but -- being as I was a skinny freshman and Rolando was a giant sophomore (who had probably been held back a grade or two) -- I said nothing. And that made my anger be replaced with shame and guilt. Not only did I have the body of a little girl, but was acting like one, too.

That was when I heard a commotion from the door of the locker room. Coach Keith, a squat, powerful young coach who had clearly played some football in his time, was barring the door to a baggily-clothed student struggling to get out of the shower area. I couldn't see his face, as his back was toward me, but I easily recognized the cap, army jacket, cargo pants and Jegs sneakers.

"Where do you think you're going, Mister?" said Coach, with the tone of someone who had seen this situation before.

"I'm going to my next class," Taine replied softly.

Coach crossed his arms in front of his chest and continued to bar the doorway with his muscular frame.

"Not without taking a shower you're not," Coach retorted.

Taine's shoulders slumped, and he squeaked out "I'm cool," then tried to get around Coach Keith. The coach slammed an arm across the doorway, shutting off Taine's exit.

"You're not cool," the coach said. "Do you know how many complaints I get from teachers about you kids coming into their classrooms sweating and smelling like animals? Get in the shower now."

That was when Taine did something strange. He tucked his head and tried to slip past Coach, as if he was invisible and could somehow pass through solid matter. I couldn't see his face, but I imagined that it was probably bright red by this point.

Taine's escape attempt seemed to enrage Coach Keith, who grabbed Taine with both arms and pushed him back into the locker room. By this point, everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch the drama, even Rolando and Paul.

Coach was in a frenzy, tearing Taine's hat off his head and throwing it against the wall as he stalked forward, backing the terrified Taine toward the shower area. Taine held up his hands in a feeble attempt to ward off the Coach's attack, but it only seemed to enrage Coach more. I was almost too horrified to notice Taine's soft, medium-length hair with its natural golden highlights catching the overhead fluorescents. Almost. Everyone seemed rooted to the spot, not sure quite where Coach Keith's temper was going to take this.

"Please," Taine whimpered, "don't!" He seemed to shrink into himself then, as if willing himself to disappear from the shame and fear of this assault.

Coach reached for Taine's jacket, pulling it open and ripping it from his shoulders, exposing Taine's thin frame, looking so vulnerable in a thin brown cotton t-shirt, sleeves charmingly rolled in 1950's greaser style. I struggled to get dressed, thinking that maybe I could stop this awful series of events.
Before I could finish, Taine ducked and made a break for it, but Coach wrapped his arms around Taine's ribcage from the back and stripped off his t-shirt with one violent yank.

By this point, Taine was whimpering "No...no...no..." over and over again.

I tugged on my jeans and pulled on my sweater as Coach was wrestling with the shirtless Taine. The steam from the showers was obscuring my view, but I saw Taine fall onto his back, Coach pinning him to the ground as he ripped the Jegs from Taine's feet, tossing them behind him.

The bell rang, and students began to flee the locker room.

I stood rooted to the spot as the bell broke my silence and I screamed...

"STOP! STOP! STOP!"

Coach looked up from Taine's prone, crying frame and glared at me. He looked psychotic, demonic...I didn't know what it was about Taine which had provoked such rage.

"You shut the fuck up!" Coach bellowed, pointing directly at me. "Get the fuck out of here and go to your next class! He's got to LEARN!"

To my embarrassment, I cowered in fear, pulling my book bag from my dressing bench and holding it protectively against my sweater. I wanted to help, but I was paralyzed by fear of this crazed, raging man.

I looked down at Taine as I hurried from the locker room. His face was contorted in hurt, shame, embarrassment, a million different emotions crossing his beautiful, tear-streaked face as he looked at me, clearly wishing he was dead, and whispered "GO."

My heart breaking, I fled the locker room, but paused at the door to see Coach, now standing and pulling off Taine's cargo pants and checkered boxer shorts. I closed my eyes, wanting to see, but NOT wanting to see...not like this...and ran to the office, tears pouring down my face.

I was late to 6th period, but I accomplished what I wanted. I alerted the office, and -- from what I heard later -- security burst into the locker room just as Coach heaved the naked Taine into the steaming showers, screaming obscenities until the guards restrained him and pulled him from the room.
After school, I walked home, and I don't remember much of the walk. My mind was full of warring images. Dicks everywhere. Taine's anguished face, Paul's shame, Rolando's strutting. I was angry, hurt, confused and ashamed.

But what I was most ashamed of was that most of what was going through my mind was the sight of Taine shirtless. He already had full hair under his arms, long, dark and silky, almost like an Asian person, though he had no Asian heritage which I could determine. He was otherwise hairless but for a thin and tantalizing treasure trail leading from his belly- button -- a cute and shallow "innie" -- to parts unknown.

What captivated me most were his nipples. They were larger than I'd seen on a guy (granted, I hadn't seen many), and captivated me with their uniqueness. My own nipples were small dark nubs, darker because of my tan and barely the size of a dime. Taine's were lighter, creamy beige, and at least the size of nickels. I wanted to kiss them. In fact, I wanted to kiss him all over, and comfort him from the anguish I saw on his reddened and crying eyes.

And this made me feel even more ashamed, as if I would be preying on his weakness. But how could it be wrong if it was meant with love? I didn't know, but I just felt as if it was, and I vowed then and there to be Taine's friend, and that's all.

* * * * *

Taine didn't come back to school the rest of the week, and I looked for him in the halls all day Thursday and Friday. Coach Keith didn't come back to school ever, for which I was secretly pleased. I was hoping he'd be fired or arrested, but word was that he'd been transferred to an administrative post at the school district's Central Office, and I only prayed that he wouldn't try to mess with my academic records, knowing I was the one who turned him in.

That weekend, I took my new friend Kirsten to see a horror movie at the local mall. Because it was rated R, and the theater checked IDs, I had to have Rex drive us to the mall and buy our tickets. Now, normally I would have been incredibly embarrassed about this on what was supposed to be my first official high-school "date", but if you haven't figured it out by now, I was far more interested in seeing Hollywood's latest horror offering than I was in impressing Kirsten. As it turned out, I shouldn't have worried.

Kirsten didn't seem to object at all to Rex's chaperoning, and my adopted dad was relatively sober that day and seemed pleased that I was going out with a girl.

"I was beginning to worry about you," he grinned, obviously impressed by Kirsten's firm young physique and large tits which were barely concealed by her tight, thin pink sweater. The term "sweater-puppies" floated through my mind as I gazed nervously across her ample chest when we were seated in the theater.

The movie began, and it was a good one. Scary, funny, with the best special effects available at the time. Kirsten held my hand, squeezing it tight when the first jump-scare came along, and by midway through the movie she was burying her head in my neck and nuzzling those...okay, those soft and fuzzy sweater-puppies against my bare arm. I grew bold by the 3/4 mark of the film, sliding my arm around her shoulders and holding her close.

That was when she tilted up her face and kissed me softly. I won't lie, I felt a stirring down below, but it was somewhat offset by the creepy, slimy feeling of her strawberry lip-gloss, which seemed to me like pouring syrup on perfectly good salmon. I kissed her back, of course, but soon disentangled our lips and pulled her head down on my shoulder to see the rest of the film. I could smell her soft, clean auburn hair, and I nuzzled it with my nose, far preferring that fresh, rainy scent of her shampoo to the overpowering strawberry gravy on her lips.

By the time the movie ended, I think she got the message, particularly after she rested her hand on the crotch of my pants and began rubbing my half-staff. As soon as she touched me, I jerked as if electrocuted, and my not-very-impressive bulge soon retreated into non-existence. Her hand retreated, but I kept my arm around her, she kept her head on my shoulder, and I let her.

After the movie, I sat on the iron railing of a bike-rack outside the theater as I waited for Rex to come and pick us up. Kirsten stood between my legs, and at barely 5'3", I had to bend down to nuzzle her hair, which had quickly become my favorite part of her.

"I liked the movie," I said. "Did you?"

She smiled at me, parting her moistened strawberry-pink lips to reveal pearly-white dental work.

"I liked you," she said. Then she took my head in her hands and bent me down to her lips. We kissed again, and she pushed herself close to me, stroking her fuzzy sweater against my groin, which responded in spite of itself. I parted my lips, suddenly curious, and her soft pink tongue darted between them, licking and sucking at my own.

Before I knew it, our tongues were dueling in our mouths, going from one to the other. She tasted sweet, like bubblegum and experience. I probably tasted like coppery fear, but she didn't seem to mind. Finally, she pulled back, and I raised my head as I saw Rex's car turning into the parking lot.
Kirsten smiled at me, seemingly in dreamland.

"That's better," she whispered.