This is an exerpt from my memoir; I was 5 and my brother was 8:
When my brother saw me with a noose, he asked me to teach him how to do it. After I had shown him, he would go on to tie one himself to teach me how a noose was used.
He gathered an audience, treating my terror like a sideshow, and bullied me onto an upturned cinder block and into the noose to prove I wasn’t “chicken.”
As soon as I was situated, the block tipped over. I grabbed the rope in a futile attempt to keep the noose from crushing my neck.
I fought for air against my own weight as the cruelty of their laughter rang in my ears and everything went dark.
When I came back to my senses, my mother was applying ointment to the rope burns on my neck. My brother was spinning a tale about how inept and stupid I was to end up with rope burns around my neck as she applied ointment.
She took his word without hesitation. It should have been a huge red flag. Either I was suicidal or grievously assaulted.
“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” - William Faulkner
My earliest memories date back to my first weeks of life; my grandmother cradling me and feeding me while singing, "She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes.” She wore a paisley dress. My mind was furiously trying to decode the twisted teardrop pattern that defied my infantile level of understanding of geometry while simultaneously absorbing, as well as I could, the words and melody of her song. This was my natal bonding moment, one that was totally absent from both my parents. It signified my need for security, my advanced sense of self and insatiable curiosity.
Thank you all for the support. Since Tumblr has flagged all my short stories, I’m archiving them at WordPress now at: https://chubbychasershortstories.wordpress.com/
I’ve supplied an email there for comments/communication.
1: Strangers on a Bus - [Divorced Chubby Bear and troubled HS grad find unexpected love - 31 to 40 minute read ]
2: A Slice of Chubby Chaser History - [Short Autobio - 5 to 6 minute read]
3: When Dwayne Met Ham - [Chubby Chaser Fantasy based on a real life introduction - 15 to 19 minute read]
4: Billy and David - Reunited - [Freed from prior constraints, Chubby Billy seeks out his former best friend/suitor - 22 to 27 minute read]
5: Losing My Virginity - [Novelized Autobio - 22 to 27 minute read]
6: An Early Lesson In Love - [Romantic struggles of a pre-teen - Novelized Autobio - 18 to 23 minute read]
Thank you all for the support. Since Tumblr has flagged all my short stories, I’m archiving them at WordPress now at: https://chubbychasershortstories.wordpress.com/
I’ve supplied an email there for comments/communication.
1: Strangers on a Bus - [Divorced Chubby Bear and troubled HS grad find unexpected love - 31 to 40 minute read ]
2: A Slice of Chubby Chaser History - [Short Autobio - 5 to 6 minute read]
3: When Dwayne Met Ham - [Chubby Chaser Fantasy based on a real life introduction - 15 to 19 minute read]
4: Billy and David - Reunited - [Freed from prior constraints, Chubby Billy seeks out his former best friend/suitor - 22 to 27 minute read]
5: Losing My Virginity - [Novelized Autobio - 22 to 27 minute read]
6: An Early Lesson In Love - [Romantic struggles of a pre-teen - Novelized Autobio - 18 to 23 minute read]
There was a sweet girl about my age working at BK at that time named Linda. She always seemed to smile through the grueling work and I had no idea how she managed it. I worked really hard, but I wasn’t particularly happy while doing it.
We ended a dinner shift together at 10pm and as we left, we headed down the same street. I offered to escort her home as we didn’t live in the safest of neighborhoods. She accepted, thanking me, and asked me in when we made it to her apartment.
We chatted and got to know each other better while sipping on sodas. She was a very warm and caring person. I suddenly had a strange urge and just blurted it out, “I’m gay.” I had never admitted this to anyone I wasn’t in love with. Her response was, “Wow, I’ve never had a gay friend before.” She called me a friend on our first meeting and it felt great. She seemed totally intrigued and asked me questions I hadn’t even considered and couldn’t really answer, given my limited experience.
She opened up to me too and told me she was almost 18 now and had been kicked out of her home for dating someone her parents disapproved of vehemently. The two were married in a civil ceremony 2 months later and shared this apartment. He worked construction on a 10 days out - 4 days in schedule. I really liked John when we met and the three of us would party together and shoot pool at a nearby hall.
Linda had already explained to John that she had a gay friend now and he took it in stride and never made any untoward comments about it. I really respected him for that. We were in Texas after all. The second time we met, John gave me a hug when he got home right after giving Linda a hug and a kiss. He thanked me for being a good friend to Linda. He said he felt better about leaving her alone knowing I would be there for her. It felt really good to have close friends from whom I didn’t need to hide anything about myself. It felt very liberating.
I soon met Linda’s ‘lover on the side’, Butch. He was a reform school kid about our age. He had a very lanky build, weighing barely more than I. He had reform school tattoos that looked horrible and a peculiar haircut with the straight bangs cut at an angle across his face, high to low. He was an exhibitionist as well and I ended up watching him plow Linda with his massive cock on the day we met. Massive didn’t cover it. His cock looked to be 14 inches in length and as thick as a can of beer. I’m not exaggerating. Linda had her head thrown back in a rapturous pose. Butch kept looking back at my awed expression and looked quite pleased with himself at my stunned reaction. Afterward, he would often come by my garage apartment on his own to chat and party and we had a decent friendship of our own going.
John’s current work project finished before the 10-day mark. He arrived home at mid-day unexpectedly and heard a huge commotion in the bedroom. Butch had barely scrambled out the 2nd story window leaving the screen in tatters. John pressed Linda for what was going on and why the window had no screen left.
I heard a knock on my door. It was John with Linda in tow. She was staring at the ground. “Did you just jump out of my bedroom window?” he asked, incredulously. Linda had fumbled for her explanation on his return and resorted to accusing me since John knew I would not have been screwing her behind his back. She really didn’t want to admit to the truth.
I answered, “No?” wondering where the question would have come from. Then the pieces fell into place in my mind. “You LIED to me!” he directed at Linda as she started to cry. “Who WAS it?!?”
I asked them to come inside and talk about it. I don’t know where I found the “wisdom” having no experience, but I sat them down and walked through having them explain what their needs and expectations were. I told them I could feel that they belonged together and that they should work on accommodating each other’s needs to make their marriage work. Otherwise, one or both of them would be suffering until they would inevitably have to break it off. They agreed and worked out a new set of boundaries that they could both accept so that they could remain together in a more honest arrangement. They both hugged me hard and thanked me before leaving for home, hand in hand. Who would have thought that an inexperienced, gay 16-year-old could be a successful marriage counselor?
Chapter 6: The Descent
At work, I continued to outpace every other worker with at least twice the production. I learned my work ethic with my first job at age 5 reclaiming salvaged bricks from demolitions with a hand hatchet and huge screwdriver for a penny a brick.
I had been closing on the weekends for 3 years now. I always hustled while others plodded overnight. I was a smoker and really needed at least a drag or two but wasn’t going to ask for a break. So, I had my smoke in my mouth and lighter in hand as I hustled out the back door with another full trash bin on wheels, headed towards the dumpster in the back of the parking lot. Without missing a beat, I lit the cigarette and enjoyed a partial smoke while quickly dumping the trash and bouncing back. I stomped the smoke out in stride as I hit the back door buzzer.
The closing manager was a tall, skinny Hispanic guy who really didn’t like me for some reason. I think it was straight up racism, but I had tolerated his “white boy” comments and extra assignments without protest. He called me into the tiny back office as soon as I cleared the door. “There was a District Manager parked down the block and he saw you smoking and told me I needed to fire you right now.”
It was 3:30am and I knew he was lying and that he had seen me go out prepped for my partial smoke and was just using the situation to harass me again.
“I know you’re a fucking liar, but here, let me save you the trouble.” I spit my words and pulled my dorky BK uniform off in one motion and threw it into his chest and left. I had another kitchen job in 2 days. Unfortunately, they failed to let me know it was only seasonal and would end with the University’s home-game football season. To my complete surprise, I was laid off in mid-December. This time the job market sucked and no one was hiring. I was set to lose my lease on New Year’s Day.
Chapter 7: Rock Bottom with Butch and Richard
When I let Butch know I was unemployed and about to be homeless, he talked with his roommate and benefactor Richard. Richard decided to take me in, as he had Butch, although neither of us had any resources. He said it would be fine. He laughed and told me I could ‘sing for my supper’ and sleep on the couch. He liked my jokes and loved to hear me play and sing. Richard was very average looking and about 23 years old, I believe.
I was wondering how he could be so generous on his meager salary as an electronics assembler at the Texas Instruments plant. He arrived home on the afternoon of our first Friday as a household grinning like the Cheshire Cat holding his $120.00 weekly paycheck. How could he be so pumped to be holding a weekly check that only covered a third of the rent on his 2-bedroom apartment? I soon found out.
“Come on!” he shouted on the way to his old beater of a car. We piled in and drove by the bank to cash his check then on to his “connection’s” place. With $100.00, he purchased 20 ¼ gram packets of what I later learned was some of the purest crystal meth to hit the city in ages. They called it ‘Crank’. I was clueless but didn’t let on. We sped over to Party A and quickly unloaded the stash for $200.00. We repeated the process, doubling up leaving Party A with $400.00. Back we went to purchase twice the volume then and headed to Party B. $800.00, then $1600.00. I couldn’t believe what I was a part of. I had seen the stuff being snorted at Party A, but at Party B the product seemed to disappear into a back room where the door was always kept closed. I found out later that the users in the backroom at Party B were injecting the stuff. 7 of the IV users migrated to Richard’s apartment to continue the action. I had been given lots to drink and smoke at these parties and was fairly well lit when we got home around 1am.
There was a guy that I was attracted to among the 7 tagalongs. Feeling very uninhibited, I was deep in conversation with him when Butch moved into my side with his back to me while grabbing my right arm off the back of the couch securing it out of my sight in front of him. I tried to finish a thought I was expressing to the cute chubby guy when I felt a sting at the crease of my elbow. Butch held my arm tightly so I couldn’t move. Without my knowledge or consent, Butch and Richard had just mainlined me with 5 of the individual user packets worth of the stuff prepped for a syringe, 1.25 grams. This was apparently my “cut” of the action, along with $50.00 cash.
Before I could get an explanation, the solution pumped through my heart and up to my brain. It felt like being strapped to a rocket. I could feel my rapid, pounding pulse at my temples, ears and neck. After maybe 15 minutes, the initial rush was replaced by a complete sense of euphoria that lasted the majority of 2 days before subsiding. Day 3 was HELL. Every cell in my body ached and yearned. I was grateful that the supply was exhausted or I would have begged, borrowed or stolen for another dose to regain the euphoric effect.
Butch and I were home alone having not slept or eaten yet on Monday, Day 3. That’s when I found out that Butch was Bi. He asked if I would have sex with him. He told me he had wanted to ever since his exhibition show with Linda. He had helped me out of a tight jam and I felt obligated but uninspired as I agreed to try. I warned him there was no way I could take it like Linda had. He assured me he didn’t expect that. Surprisingly, he wanted me to screw him. Try as I might, I couldn’t get my equipment to function for him in my compromised and unenthused state and he settled for a combination BJ and two-handed jerk. I could barely get the head of it in my mouth while guarding my teeth. The experience made me feel hollow inside. I vowed to never have that sort of sex again. Neither Butch nor Richard were my type and I figured they’d expect me to pay for my room and board by having sex with at least one if not both of them. I knew I couldn’t continue down this road. Staying with Butch and Richard would turn me into a meth addicted sex toy.
Having resolved myself to the loss of Mr P, my 6th grade reading teacher, I searched for other alternatives. None of my new teachers were attractive to me and I was also a bit gun shy about trying again with another adult.
My friends in the new neighborhood were pretty nice to me. I even experienced silent, cross over hand jobs with a couple of friends on sleepovers, but they weren’t my type. They were just one-offs out of their curiosity mostly. I just went with what they seemed to want, which wasn’t much.
An older brother of one of those two friends was my type. Dimitri was 2 years older than I. He was about 5’6” and 250 lbs., compared to my 4’10” and 90 lbs. He carried the weight well looking just as wide as he did fat, completely rounded. He had a cute round face. His chin seemed to poke out of the rest of his face like a gnome’s. He was of Greek extraction with olive colored skin and dark hair. His eyes were a dark hazel and he had the cutest little upturned button nose. His main expression seemed to be one of annoyance, but when he smiled or laughed his face lit up. I thought he was gorgeous, even when he appeared to be brooding.
It was a cool, clear mid-October evening. I can’t recall how, but Dimitri and I were sitting side by side alone on my front porch step. I was feeling desperate for some sort of contact, so I just threw my arm across his back and over his shoulder, without looking him in the eye. He didn’t retreat from my advance. When we finally looked each other in the eye, I asked softly, “Do you want to sleep over?” He replied, “I’ll ask if it’s ok.” I suggested Friday night and he agreed.
With no objections from either of our parents, we got together that Friday night. Our new home had a nice rec room in the basement. It had Calico shag carpeting, walnut veneer paneling and was equipped with a Ping-Pong table, a Bumper Pool table and an entertainment den. We were both the most skilled Ping-Pong players in the neighborhood and we had a great time testing each other’s speed and accuracy, cracking topspin lobs from behind and below the table making the spins hard to read and anticipate. After a bit, we moved over to the Bumper Pool table and I relished in acing him at it. It was my table after all and I practiced a lot. He decided we should just play Ping-Pong and I chuckled. He was smiling and laughing a lot and I felt really good and comfortable with how things were going.
Later that night, we were watching my 10” B/W TV while laying on our stomachs facing the foot of my bed. We were down to our underwear in preparation to go to sleep. I totally blank when trying to remember what was on TV at that moment. I was focused on my goal. I recalled how he had not retreated from my initial advance and figured I had a pretty good chance again.
I gulped hard and tentatively moved my arm over the small of his back, placing it lightly on his plump olive skin, hoping a soft approach was right. He was not phased at all. My heart began to pound in my ears. After a minute, I made my next move. I slowly slipped two fingers under the waistband of his tighty-whities just above his right hip as I laid to his left. To my shock, he flipped over so that my hand was now under his underwear and touching his already stiff 6.5” cock.
I was in uncharted waters. I found myself compelled to act but with no game plan. After lowering his briefs, I managed to pull him off fairly quickly. It was my only previous experience I had to relate with this one. All this happened in silence. I think we were both having new experiences that we had no words for.
As he finished his orgasm, I was compelled, as if by gravity, to take his deflating member into my mouth. He groaned his pleasure and immediately started to regain his erection. I don’t know how, but I seemed to know exactly what to do to make him happy. Instinctively guarding my teeth with my lips, I twirled my tongue sensuously around the head of his cock. I took that head into the top of my throat without gagging and gripped it with my neck muscles. I lavished my tongue up and down his shaft like it was a frozen popsicle treat and flicked the tip with each pass. After only a few minutes, Dimitri grunted, grabbing my hair and I received his 2nd load in my mouth and throat. Savoring the taste and sensation, I experienced a full body, non-ejaculatory orgasm matching his. It was amazing.
The silence that followed was deafening to me. What was he thinking or feeling? Was this going to be the end of my reputation at school and in the neighborhood? I was starting to tremble and hyperventilate from the anxiety. He finally looked at me and said, “Let’s go back down to the rec room.” He smiled at me and my fears melted away.
We continued our Ping-Pong rivalry going all out until we were sweating from the exertion. Then we moved over to the Pong video game setup in the den. The game was only recently released and he really enjoyed a new format to compete with me on an equal footing.
When we were both exhausted, around 2 am, we returned to my bedroom where I again brought him to climax with my lips, tongue and throat, enjoying and sharing his orgasm with him before we sacked out for the rest of the night. We still had not exchanged a single word regarding the “extracurricular” activities we had engaged in. He was stoic by nature and I was petrified to talk about it.
Dimitri came by 2 days later asking my Mom if I could hang out with him. She called me down saying I had a friend to see me. We walked off together without a word, again. The new development was still growing and we had our choice of partially built homes to sneak off into. He picked one and we entered.
He stood against an unfinished wall and averted his eyes. I could see the bulge of his erection through his jeans and assumed he wanted a repeat performance. I quickly moved to my knees in front of him to oblige. He wouldn’t meet my eye as I unhooked his fly and unzipped his jeans. I could feel his inner conflict. I knew he enjoyed my services, but I sensed he was having a hard time relating to the fact that a skinny younger boy was satisfying his needs and not some girl from school.
This silent, tense ritual was repeated at least 30 times over the remainder of the school year. My heart was yearning for some affirmation that what we were doing meant something more to Dimitri other than guilt ridden animalistic release.
Early in the summer after the 7th grade, I was on a sleepover at Dimitri’s house at his younger brother’s invitation. At about 2:30 am, I slipped out and sought out Dimitri. He was asleep, of course. I snuggled up to him in his bed and massaged his belly until he awoke. I admitted in a whisper, “I love you, Dimitri.” He pushed me away hard off his bed and onto the floor with a disgusted scowl on his face and flipped over with his back toward me. I again felt the gut-wrenching pain of rejection and bit my wrist to keep from crying out loud as I retreated to his younger brother’s room.
I had crossed a line with Dimitri. He liked what my mouth could do for him, but he definitely wasn’t going to give up on his straight identity; not for me.
The next day, I had three of my “friends” asking if I was a queer. They said Dimitri had told them that I had “attacked” him in his sleep during my sleepover. I felt my world crumbling underneath me. I couldn’t even formulate a response either admitting or denying. I ran away from the question/accusation and locked myself in my room for the next week. Once again, I was a blubbering mass but now also in fear of the future as well.
The Fates intervened and I was saved from this predicament. My ailing Grandfather had died and we were moving back to West Texas to be closer to my now widowed Grandmother.
I saw this documentary back ‘n the day. They had clips of outtakes from Groucho Marx’s “You Bet Your Life” TV series. He was interviewing a contestant.
“So, do you have any children?”
“Yes...13.”
“How long have you been married?’
“12 years.”
“How do you explain that?”
“Well, I guess my husband and I really love each other.”
Groucho removed his cigar from his mouth and looked at it, “You know, I dearly love these cigars. But, there are times I don’t have one in my mouth.”
A very diverting 30 minute listen: http://www.thestory.org/stories/2013-03/saving-groucho
My mom had decided she could get free child care by sending me to Sunday School at the tiny church that abutted our property in the desert south of Midland TX, circa 1968. I had never entered a church before. I have no idea as to the particular “Christian” denomination of this particular church.
I was a very curious and precocious child. I would dissect our household appliances in an effort to understand how they worked. Dad took to bringing home disabled appliances for my inspection so I wouldn’t destroy the working models in the house.
So, at Sunday School, I was assigned a seat and given a fat pencil and a scrap piece of paper and instructed to copy down the “10 Commandments” that I could see already listed on the chalkboard.
I started the chore and thought, “There’s got to be a story behind this.” I raised my hand.
“Yes?” the matronly SS teacher responded.
“Is there a backstory to this? Some explanation?”
“They’re the 10 Commandments. You need to know them. Write them down.”
In my head, I thought, “I’ve just been Commanded to write down the 10 Commandments”
I cocked my head and said, “You’ve got nothing better than ‘They said so’?”
I was sent home with a note indicating I should never be sent back.
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