Date: Sat, 29 Jan 2011 17:12:17 -0800 (PST) From: Dave Ledge Subject: Skinny or Scrawny? Chapter One Skinny or Scrawny? I finally turned 16 yesterday. Driver's license is next. My state allows that. I want to get out and do things. I want to see and experience everything! I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw this young guy looking back at me. Hmm... Face not too bad. Beginnings of a beard. Decent chin. Longish dark hair. But look at that body! Nice height. 6'2 now. But 140 pounds, maybe? Not an ounce of fat on my boy body and not much hair either. But I looked like some kind of ad for anorexia treatment! "Please help me, now! I need help!" I shook my head and studied my naked body again. Nice nipples anyway, sort of big. Some pubic hair finally. And I already had a man's cock, too. It would grow to a nice thick 7 and a half inches. Yeah, I measured it. Doesn't everybody? LOL. Shrugging, I put on some boxers that sort of sagged and went downstairs to find food. I was always hungry of course. With all that I ate you'd think I'd be 200 pounds, but no. I didn't worry about putting on more clothes. Everybody else was gone for the weekend visiting relatives--except for Dad, who had some work of some kind to do, and me, who had track practice coach told me to make, or else. Yeah, I run track and have good legs to prove it. Grin. Finishing making a big breakfast and standing in the middle of the kitchen, dressed like me, was the reason for my skinniness. Not quite 40, you could see why people thought my Dad and me were brothers some times. Maybe 150 pounds, also 6'2 with longish hair was the man who made me. He turned towards me and gave me a half smile, noting my lack of clothing. Then obviously realized his own near-nakedness, too. I studied his body for the first time in a while. Yeah, no doubting we were related. He did have more facial hair and some wisps of chest hair around his big nipples. Also had a dark treasure trail reaching downward from his navel. From the gap in his boxers I could see his pubes were thicker than mine, too. "Breakfast", he asked, interrupting my thoughts. "Sure". After we ate, he asked what the plans for the day were. "Well, I got practice now. Thought I might work on my tan this afternoon." Practice was the same as always. Only interesting part was when all of us, including Coach took off our shirts for the final mile run. Now there was a real man's body. Muscled, hairy, big biceps and cut chest. Looking around I could tell I wasn't the only boy looking. And looking at coach's smirk, I could tell he knew just what he was doing. Asshole! I started to get really angry. I'd never look like Coach. I'd never look like a real man like him. The asshole knew it and was smirking! I put on a burst of speed and passed everybody, including Coach Hayes. Soon, all of us were running at full speed and we all arrived back at the gym and lockers as a gasping, sweaty mob. Normally, I take my time and enjoy the hot shower and crack jokes with everybody, checking out how the guys' bodies are changing and developing. But today I wasn't in the mood--at all. I rushed through the drill and jogged home--part of my workout, too. I took some swigs of water from the sink and tried to calm down. Nothing was helping. I was still pissed. I decided to do some laps in our pool. Dad had put one in the basement so he could stay in shape. I went upstairs to my room and got a pair of racing Speedos (yeah, they're kinda small but I've been growing) and went down the stairs two at a time, still fuming. And there, still wet by the side of the pool was the man responsible for making me what I was, my Dad! I jumped into the pool near him, doing a cannonball dive, trying to swamp him with my splash. He looked startled and I came up to him and started to shove him, pushing him around the pool. "It's all your fault", I yelled. "You skinny son of a bitch! I'll never look like a real man. I'll never get any women. I'll always look like some kind of fucking toothpick just like you!" I had totally lost it at this point. I just wanted to beat him up somehow and make him feel my pain. I continued to shove him around the pool. Soon, however, he had had enough. "What is your problem?" he yelled and pushed back at me. I glared at him and said, "You are! I'll never be a stud like Coach Hayes. I'll always look like you, like some kind of scrawny, overgrown, boy!" To my surprise Dad started to laugh. "You mean, Stephen Hayes, your track coach?" I nodded, shocked by his reaction and stopped trying to manhandle him. "That wimp", he said. "He never could beat me in the 1500 meters in high school. In fact he got so frustrated he challenged me to arm wrestle senior year. Never got over getting beat by me that way, too! He still calls me up now and then to try his luck. Doesn't have any luck with me still." He looked at me harder then. "Is that asshole trying to get even with me through you? What's he done to you?" "Nothing," I said. I started to push him again. "You lie! You could never beat a man like Coach arm wrestling!" To my shock he slapped me across the face! "That's it. Out of the pool, now!" He went over to the ladder and pulled himself up out of the pool. Despite my shock and anger I noticed he was also wearing racing Speedos, which fit him pretty well. I followed him over to the exercise mat he had set up in a corner of the room. He lay down on his stomach and thrust his arm up, vertically, and motioned me to come fight! Was I ever ready! I lay down across from him, took the position, thrust my arm and hand against his. His long, slender fingers and veiny hand, grabbed mine. He pumped my hand with his and flexed his biceps. Wow. While not as big as Coach's, they were hard as a rock, somehow looking more powerful than his. I guess I had never noticed them before. Doesn't matter. He is so going down! Finally I grabbed his hand even harder, trying to squeeze it. I could see the veins on his hand throb. Guess mine were, too. He just looked at me and got in position to arm wrestle me for real. I responded and the fight was on! Damn, who knew he was that strong! I kept pushing and working on him and went nowhere. I could tell he was having to work to keep me from beating him, but I was getting nowhere at all. I don't know how long we struggled. I put everything I had into winning. Finally I could feel him make his move on me. I fought as hard as I could but he was starting to put my arm down to the mat. Minutes (seconds?) later I felt my arm kiss the mat and then get slammed full length on it! Damn. He beat me! He looked at me and, without a smile, said, "You're pretty good. You might beat that asshole Hayes." I couldn't decide how I felt at that moment. I was ashamed at losing, but if he was telling the truth about beating Coach Hayes, I guess I shouldn't. "I know you're partially left-handed", he said. You wanna go at it left-handed or do you want to see if you match up to that asshole Hayes the other way he and I fight?" Other way? I must have looked puzzled. Dad answered my look, "Yeah, he thinks he's such a stud since he's thicker than I am and has the Hollywood looks. But we thin guys are wiry and have muscle that is real and not just for show. He still doesn't get that. After I beat him arm wrestling--both arms, by the way--he challenges me to a bear hug match. And, don't ask, I win that, too." I know I looked at Dad in disbelief. How could he beat this stud all of us boys on the track team idolized? I mean, running, maybe, arm wrestling maybe through technique, but bear hugging? I think not. "Still not convinced? OK, let's fight." He stood up and walked to the center of the mat. I slowly got up and tried to understand everything he had said while getting ready to battle my Dad again. "How does this work?" I asked. "It's simple. We squeeze each other until one of us gives up." OK. I'll never give, I thought. I got up and walked toward my Dad. Got in position. We grabbed each other and started to squeeze. Damn that hurt! I thought I was going to pass out from the pain of him squeezing me to death. I must have groaned out loud because I heard a chuckle. Well, that pissed me off again. I squeezed that fucker harder and gave out my own chuckle when I heard his groan. The fight was on and went on and on and on. We traded squeezes, trying to make the other submit. I was in real pain, but not about to admit it or submit. My pride was on the line now. But, oh shit. Something else was happening. At some level I realized I was nearly naked and rubbing my nearly naked body against someone else's nearly naked body. Despite the pain, the struggle for dominance was so primitive against what was a pretty much naked man was turning me on! I know I'm 16 and I get hard all the time. However, this was NOT the time. I tried to focus on the pain and will the hard on to go down. No such luck. And then my asshole Dad realized I was hard. He then used this against me! He started to rub and softly slam his Speedo-clad crotch against mine. Holy shit! I could even feel that he was hard, too. He also started to rub his nipples against mine. I had NO idea nipples were sensitive. Fuck. He was working me over sexually now, just to beat me. And I had no clue on how to answer. I was wrestling my twin brother but this twin was 22 years older and knew how to turn on guys! I was just getting more and more excited. I was having a harder and harder time breathing. He continued to frot my cock with his in our Speedos. Holy crap. I'm going to cum! I must have yelled out loud as I creamed my Speedos with seven bursts of cum from my hard as hell cock. I know I gave up my hold on my nearly naked Dad. He did laugh out loud then. "Seems like someone is at a disadvantage", he said. He reached into my Speedos and felt my still hard cock sticky with cum! I gasped out loud and turned ten shades of red. "Don't worry. I'm at a similar disadvantage." With that he took my hand and plunged it into his Speedo where I felt my twin cock just as sticky with cum. I think I turned even redder then. He smiled even bigger and separated us. "I guess this fight is a draw for now. If you want to go at it again, let me know." He started to leave, leaving me in total confusion. "However, one of the reasons I always beat Stevie Hayes at bear hug wrestling is because I have a real man's cock, like yours. Stevie has a pencil one. He likes to cum though." With that he gave me a mysterious smile and left me to my thoughts and confusion while trying to figure out this hot man who had just given me the biggest cum in my life! To be continued?