Date: Sat, 16 Feb 2002 20:36:22 -0500 From: XH4M Subject: BIG IS BETTER 04 BIG IS BETTER By XH4M This story is a fantasy. All characters in this story are fictional with no resemblance to any real persons implied. Any reader with objections to graphic descriptions of sexual encounters between males, who may not have reached the legal age of consent, or whose local, regional, state or national jurisprudence prohibits such descriptions, should NOT read further. Copyright (c) 2000 XH4M. All rights, implicit or implied, except for distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual downloading the file, are reserved. Inquiries regarding publishing rights for this story should be directed to: xhuge4muscl@hotmail.com PART 04 - THE MEAT OF THE MATTER And as for my 'touching' Little Johann, well - I never had to anyway. Little Johann seemed to just do it all by himself - and far too often frankly - though I was privately enjoying the delirious sensations. By the age of 12 when other boys are usually beginning puberty, I was already sprouting a faint strip of center-line body hair extending up from my groin and my pubic hair was dark and bushy. My balls - I still just absolutely hated the big, aching things - of course had only grown larger. I'd become convinced this was no longer God's, but surely Satan's handiwork. And it was really no consolation that the satchel of skin seemed to have at least grown to a size appropriate for holding the cursed things. I was now the wholly-ashamed owner of two regulation-sized golf balls in their matching custom-made golf bag. But there was to be NO discussion of the devil's work in our house. And my testicles seemed to constantly ache, and being squished in my pants only exacerbated the problem. I remember a related incident which happened once when I was working in the east field with my older brother. I was wearing a pair of Zechariah's hand-me-down boys black pants. (Black is the only color in the ever-stylish Amish man's slack wardrobe.) But even those pants were getting tight through the groin and didn't accommodate my privates well at all. And on that morning, my balls throbbed so painfully I was clearly in distress. I tried to inconspicuously rub the soreness away, but eventually Zec noticed anyway. "Peter, are you very sore... you know... down there?" he asked calmly and matter-of-factly, gesturing with his nodding head towards my privates. "Yeah. I am," I admitted cautiously. He paused and nodded understandingly as he walked towards me. He seems to know what I was feeling. I somehow felt safe enough with Zec to pursue this risqu‚ topic some more. "Zec, they just hurt more all the time," I remember saying, and started to rub them overtly to ease the discomfort I was feeling, since Zec seemed to be sympathetic. "I know Peter. You see my own, well... they ached like that when I was your age, too. But that aching will stop eventually," Zec said, patting my head understandingly. His words were comforting and, as it turned out, also true. They did stop aching a few years later, but the passage of time seemed like an eternity back then. Many minutes passed while Zec and I continued to work in silence. Zec paused again, then straightened up and looked right at me. Surprisingly, he picked up on the same topic as if we'd never had a long break in our conversation. "Peter, you might want to wear men's overalls from now on - like mine here - rather than those pants. They're just more comfortable to work in. They'll fit you better.. aah, you know... down there..." he said, gesturing again towards my crotch. I assumed Zec must have mentioned my 'special situation' to my mother, because she set to work making me a few pairs of my own men's overalls - the kind with shoulder straps which button to a bib in the front to hold them up. And oddly - she made them really roomy in the crotch, as if she knew I'd grow into them fast enough. When she'd finished sewing the first pair and presented them to me, I bounded up to my bedroom to, absolutely delighted to be slipping into my first pair of MAN'S overalls. Ahhhhh, the truly simple pleasures of life... If my privates could have talked, they would have been joyfully screaming, "Free at last. Free at last! Oh Lord, we're free AT LAST!" There was suddenly SO much room! Nothing was squashing me. I remember how incredibly good it felt to be able to have them hang there in free space not touching anything while still being clothed. The sensation of cool air circulating all around my privates actually started to arouse me. Wearing men's overalls was WUNDERBAR! Finally there was ample room for 'The Twins' and 'Little Johann', too. Lest you think otherwise, my curse hadn't been solely directed on just 'The Twins' - no, not at all. Johann had always kept pace - or maybe it was actually the other way around. But unlike my balls, I was quite pleased with Little Johann's progress. No doubt I was comparing myself with those mental photographs I'd taken of my father and brother long ago when that brief opportunity had presented itself. Granted, it still had a long way to go - or grow - but still.... "Just maybe I won't be a runt, or at least SUCH a runt," I remember thinking to myself. There was an indisputable 'growing' sign I had reason for hope, anyway. But what I perpetually longed for was to just be taller. At the rate I was growing, I would never be even average height, let alone a 'big man.' Certainly by this time in my life, I'd also become socially accustomed to the idea I was supposed to eventually exhibit some serious interest in girls. Men got married to woman. Somehow they had families, too, although the exact mechanism of how babies came into this world was completely unknown to me. The choosing of a suitable mate of the opposite sex is hands-down the most important decision in an Amish man's life. Boys and girls begin their search for a spouse in earnest when they turn 16 years old, after enjoying a brief period of 'Rumspringa' - a recognition of their having achieved adulthood within the Amish society during which all formerly repressive taboos are lifted. Certainly by the age of 20 or so it was expected you would be married. And although Amish brides often wear a blue wedding dress, rest assured that, as a group of young Fr„ulein, they are entirely more deserving of 'virginal white' than their Outlander counterparts. But what seemed to be increasingly holding my attention however were men - physically mature men. I had no name for this desire I felt inside but it seemed more than merely a special curiosity. Somehow I also sensed there was something very different about this. But where or how I'd picked up that vague notion about my emerging orientation remains a mystery to me. Regardless, I'd somehow 'divined from the universe' this special interest of mine was also not acceptable - perhaps even dangerous to divulge - something else to be kept completely secret. In a similar vane, I knew it wasn't O.K. to display any special interest in men in public. Instinctively I knew at least I should never obviously stare, lest someone follow my eyes and somehow figure out my secret thoughts and feelings - these strange desires which held increasing power over me. But it was thoughts of men that always filled my head privately every night. I imagined things. I had incredibly vivid dreams of men who, in various ways, had certain physical attributes in common. They were always big and strong. Sometime, I'd think of a particular men I might have seen on some recent excursion into town and then use those sharp photographic memories to construct my vivid nocturnal 'imaginings.' I used to sit on the curbside alongside our parked buggy while my father or one of my brothers was off doing 'grown-ups' business. I'd be watching all of the people go by, but always paying particular attention to the grown men. On some rare occasions when an especially bigger-looking man came into view, my eyes locked onto him like a dog on a bone. Little Johann often would automatically begin to get bigger, too. I didn't feel safe anywhere in public letting Johann get too hard, but I always secretly wanted to. On one particular Saturday during that hot summer prior to my entering the regional public high school, I'd gone into town with Zec to help out with the usual loading and unloading of our wagon with goods and supplies. Zec was doing some business inside one of the stores. I waited patiently outside, sitting in my usual position on the curbside with my feet in the street, knees pulled up, and people-watching. I was wearing my new "mans" overalls. Out of nowhere, the figure of a male came into my field of vision - and he was absolutely a giant. I was so surprised I think my heart skipped a beat or two. From the way that man was dressed, he was obviously an Outlander. There were large wooden barrels sitting along side a truck parked directly next to our wagon. This Outlander started lifting them into the back of the truck. I knew those barrels were very heavy, too; I'd hoisted enough of them before myself, and it usually took the 3 of us brothers working together to lift just one of them. Amazingly though, this man was hoisting one after another by himself into his truck effortlessly. Being the hot season, he was wearing what they called a tee-shirt - and it looked as if it was painted on to him, so tightly did it fit his body. I certainly was aware I was staring, but I couldn't seem to move my eyes anywhere else. I lowered my head a bit to not be as obvious, but I continued to peer at him intensely from beneath the brim of my straw hat. There were these - these breathtaking formations - these large, big 'shapes' everywhere underneath his tee-shirt. From his head to his waist, nothing was flat at all! As he moved around doing his work, new and powerful contours continuously revealed themselves to me. There were very big ones as well as very small ones - hundreds of them it seemed. Suddenly more individual muscles were visible to me than I even knew existed in a man's body. I'd never seen such incredible musculature before, nor had I thought such a man even existed! I felt my heart beating stronger as I sat there watching him lift the barrels into his truck. I was especially enthralled by how very... well big, actually... his arms were. I was also alarmed that Little Johann was growing uncontrollably big as well, steadily creeping its way further down the underside of my pant leg beneath my thigh. My new overalls were loose enough to give Little Johann some maneuvering room without being visible to anyone - only if I remained in my seated position. But this time, I didn't go out of my way to inhibit Little Johann's swelling. The feeling seemed too pleasurable to resist - the sensation, far more intense than ever. I was being careless by allowing myself to stare, but gawking at this impressive man was somehow connected directly with the incredibly pleasurable feeling coursing through Little Johann. And every part of me wanted to just... F-E-E-L that man's incredible arms. The man had glanced over at me a few times, and finally took notice I always seemed to be looking directly at him. He paused for a moment and waved to me, saying, "Hello." I immediately waved back. I was quiet and reserved usually, so I startled myself by suddenly blurting impulsively, "You are VERY strong, Mr.!" The most astonishing thing suddenly happened. The man straightened up, lowered his arms down to his sides and clearly smiled right at me. Then he squared his big shoulders which somehow MADE the two very large muscles on his chest stick out right in front of my eyes. They kinda just sorta well... seemed to puffed up, amazingly - and in immediate approval, Little Johann began puffing up rather amazingly, too. The man was still looking directly at me as he reached down with one arm, firmly grabbing just one handle on the side of a barrel. I thought to myself," Mein Gott! He's going to actually lift it with just his ONE arm!" It seemed as if he wanted to make sure I was still paying very close attention to him. He took a deep breath and then - one-armed - he slowly lifted that huge barrel off of the ground. My mouth opened-wide as I watched in total wonder. He was just so... so unbelievably strong. He grinned right at me as he pulled that heavy barrel amazingly all the way up to his chest. I'd never seen anything like the muscle in the front of his upper arm before. It was just immense - equally the size of a very large grapefruit - and looked equally as edible to me, too. My head spun dizzily as I watched his deliberate display of strength obviously directed at me. Johann was getting dangerously big now. I could its weight pulling down the back of my pant leg. Never taking his eyes off me, the man lowered and then raised the barrel to his chest again - and then he did it AGAIN! Sometimes he'd look intently at his own fantastically large muscle which astoundingly seemed to me to be getting even larger. Then he'd glance back at me again, as if to make sure I was still watching. By that point nothing on Earth could have distracted me. He had my totally devoted, undivided attention. Finally he set the barrel down. Then, grinning directly at me, he cocked his arm so I could see the big muscle in front form up into a gigantic grapefruit. He asked me in a loud whisper, "Do ya think it's big, boy?" Did I think it's 'big'? I couldn't have even dreamed an arm muscle could ever be so huge! I was overcome with an urge to lower my leg, forcefully pinning Little Johann between the back of my thigh and the curbside - and I did just that, even as I simultaneously blurted out involuntarily my one-word reply. "W-O-W !!!" I slammed my leg down as hard as I could. These incredible sensations flooded through me instantly. And Johann suddenly began to convulse, pulsing powerfully over and over again. I was bathing in unbelievable waves of pleasure. When it finally was over, I'd completely filled the inside of my pant leg with cum; and somehow I just knew the man with the big muscles understood exactly what I'd done. But quickly feelings of shame as well as genuine fear swarmed over me. I involuntarily leaped up probably intending to run away as fast as I could. My copious juice immediately streamed down my leg and ran all over my boot. I froze, looking down in dismay at the mess at my feet. Only moments later, Zec came bounding out of the door of the store, saying, "Let's get going Peter!" When I glanced up, the man with the big muscles and his truck both had vanished. But there I was, caught red-handed regardless. Trapped. All of the evidence of at least some perceived sin was too clearly visible down below me and utterly impossible to hide. I was so scared and it must have shown all over my face. It was then the 2nd miracle of that day occurred. As Zec walked towards me standing beside our wagon, he spotted the situation in the back of my pant leg - only a blind man could have missed it anyway. I saw his eyes follow my leg down to the goopy mess all over my boot which trickled onto the curbside. Zec just started to shake his head, but it was more like an expression of only very mild disapproval, as if he was thinking, "Little brothers can be a real pain in the neck sometimes...." He put his hand on my shoulder blade and gently pushed me towards the wagon. "Quick now... get in the wagon, Peter...." I'd complied and leaped into the back of the wagon, then presto - we were off again heading towards home. Many long minutes later, I heard Zec's voice coming from the front of the wagon. "That's happened to me. I used to have those kind of accidents, too. It's OK. Don't worry, Peter. It'll just be our secret. I'm not going to tell Mother or Father...." I listened to the horse's hooves slow, rhythmic clomping on the pavement for awhile. Then as if to encourage some special brotherly male bonding - and please note such an overt expression of sexuality was completely uncharacteristic of the Amish, too - Zec suddenly added, "So Peter... It feels pretty good, doesn't it?" Well yes, it had felt unbelievably good actually to me for a moment. And I now had some other new pieces of information. This 'flooding your pants' thing also had apparently happened to my brother Zec; moreover, I gleaned indirectly it also felt very good to him, too. But I passed up the opportunity to fraternally bond over this completely male experience and chose to remain silent, for I knew while the same thing may have happened to Zec, it most definitely was not for the same reasons. Zec was going to be married very soon. He was even growing his beard (Amish-style without a mustache); this being the Amish male billboard which officially announces, "I'm taken and off the market." For as long as I could remember anyway, Zec also always had the same obvious 'interest' for women I seemed to have for men. I did not want to risk further discussion- or worse suffer any additional questions from him - about the specific details of 'my accident.' One sin was quite enough for that day and I didn't want to add lying to the list either. But Zec's reassurances nevertheless had felt good to me and certainly had calmed and soothed me greatly; and he very wisely never pressed for any further conversation. It was thankfully never even mentioned again. And so I was about to enter public high school that very Fall. I was a really very quiet, even shy and always obedient boy - raised completely with the simple Amish value system of austerity and hard work. I had an implicit understanding of the need to conform to the austere Amish social conventions; those having been instilled in me from the earliest age. I was about to find out just how difficult it would actually be to continue to conform though. I was different and I knew it.