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This work is entirely fictional any resemblances to another person, people or situation are entirely coincidental.
The work will most defiantly contain hot man on man sex involving cute twinks and hot muscle boys. If this type of thing offends you or is illegal where you are currently jerking off while reading this then zip up you drawers and leave, now, no questions asked, no if's, and's or butt's about it.
Body Shop Chapter One
I'm Jamie, not James, not Jim. I tried when I was 5 to change my name. I was now a big boy and Jamie was for babies. It didn't work. No one got the memo I guess. I am the baby of the family, the youngest of 3 boys, and I guess everyone wanted to hold onto that. The only person who even tried was my uncle, he called me James till the day he died, no one else.
To add insult to injury, when I was 9 I had to have chemo-therapy and that has stunted my growth slightly, almost everywhere. I am 16 years old, 5'6" and 120 pounds without so much as ripple anywhere that would suggest a muscle under my smooth outer shell. I was miserable about my stature for years and I would constantly brood about my size. I wanted to look like my idols.
You see, when I was hospitalized the children's ward was frequently visited by local athletes. Many of the boys were astonished and excited when we were visited by famous football and baseball players. The brightest point for me was being visited by the current men's Olympic soccer AND swim teams. I showed such enthusiasm that on day passes I was routinely taken to watch their practices and games. I secretly marveled at the beautifully hairless bodies of the swimmers. On the pool deck I could not take my eyes off the broad chests, rock hard abs and tight asses on these guys, God I hated that I would never look like these men. The soccer players and their legs that seemed to constantly be in motion on the field were enough to make my 8 year old penis swell. I loved the way their calves rippled as they ran. I always returned to my lonely hospital bed with a strange un-explainable ache in my neater regions and lump in my throat. The athletes were marvelous to my recovery. They never made me feel like a sick child or charity case, they made it a point to make me feel like a member of the team when I was there. They often went too far, the ever present nurse would have to remind them I was sick or, I am sure, I would have been expected to practice with them. Not that I would have cared in the least. My hero worship by day turned into a clandestine romance at night, but only in my little head. Every night I fell asleep with dreams of being held by those strong arms. My fantasies were, by current day terms, non sexual. Mostly they were visions of legs, arms, and butts. I was held, care for, loved, but there were no faces, no nudity, no kissing, no sex.
My dreams of developing a body like the ones I idolized vanished as I aged and failed to develop like my peers, but that did not stop me from developing crushes on guys who DID. By the time I was 15 I had numerous crushes on guys that resembled those pre-teen idols. As I aged and became more knowledgeable about sex, so did my thoughts. Nightly those crushes were a constant titillation as I learned what it meant to masturbate. The innocent apparitions I had before slowly morphed in my head to more sexually explicit encounters. They now had faces, faces of crushes. Arms, that before just held me developed hands that stroked my skin and massaged my body. I no longer just look at but now kissed and tongued across those abs. The legs I had just ogled at before now were wrapped around me, holding me in a strong sensual way. What was once just a mass confusion of body parts turned into feelings for the men they were attached to. It wasn't long before I deduced that what I was feeling was not hero worship, but that I was gay. I only fought those feeling for a few days before I accepted it and started to explore gay literature and art, a euphemism for porn.
I still disliked my BODY, but those feelings were vanquished when I bought my first gay magazine and realized that I was a Twinkie. I had spent years worrying that, looking like I did, no one would find me attractive. Little did I know that the world is full of guys that look like me and that the world is even fuller of men that love them. It was an eye opening experience to see some of these couples, looking so in love. I knew these couples were all fake, but the real thing must exist out there. My self esteem boosted, dealing with my issues got easier.
I missed a lot of school and had to be held back in the 3rd grade. So I am only a sophomore, frequently mistaken for a freshman. Yet, after accepting my sexuality and realizing that I was not a freak, it was so much easier to keep a positive attitude about my setbacks. I became much happier and gained quite an amiable personality compared to before.
Life as a 120 pound weakling can lead to harassment and abuse. I guess I somehow escape that. My brother looked out for me before, now his friends looked out for me. Mix that with my new personality; sure I field the names, runt, squirt, squirrel, but since I take them with a smile and my sarcastic wit, they are never more than an enduring term for the little brother I have become. I got some new nick names in gym class as well. Well, the locker room, I suck at sports; but, I am a year older than most, and, seems while the rest of my body languished, I kept pace and surpassed most in one area. When people comment on it, 5 inches limp (It is SO hard to keep it that way in there) and uncut, like with the name calling, I just throw them a smiled punctuated by my icy blue eyes and a sarcastic comment.
My parents are still married. Dad was a high school teacher for two years before going back for his masters in social work and taking a job as a school social worker. Mom taught special-ed before quitting to have kids. She subbed a bit when I was younger, but finally took a job as a bookkeeper at a body shop in town. Mom's boss doesn't pay her nearly what she is worth, especially since she is the first bookkeeper to not rob him blind, but she sets her own hours and likes the work so she stays there. We live in a nice neighborhood north of town in a nice, but cozy, house. My brothers are away at college, so they don't know I am gay. Mom and Dad do know; for just over a year now. They took it hard. They figured it was a phase. Pissed me off, that did. No phase here; I only get gayer by the day. Mom and Dad get that now. They try harder everyday to understand the way I feel and we have made some great progress. We are even able to talk in normal voices about it instead if yells of anger or whispers to keep it from the neighbors. Really, you think they are hanging out in there yards trying to listen in for the juicy gossip? Can't say we have drag queens over for dinner, but my mother did ask me the other day of one of my friends was "A special someone?" No, no one at school knows, let alone am I dating anyone.
Ever since Mom took the job at the body shop, I have been a fixture there. At 8 years old I was constantly underfoot but I started learning about cars and how to fix them. When I got sick, the guys came to see me all the time. When I started to lose my hair, they shaved there heads along with me. I always was and still am their little brother, and a feisty on might I say. I am there as often as I can. I do drama at school, but nothing else. I have never been the sports kind. So, I make my way to the shop a few days a week. The boss says that I am more reliable than some of his paid staff, but he can't pay me, because child labor law restricts it, I don't care. I do it because it's fun, and it pays in other ways. My first car had none of the dings or dents that usually come from your first months of driving. Not to say the car NEVER had any. My brother Dan drove like an idiot, He had put enough damage on that thing to keep me busy for the first 3 months I had it. After doing months of work on it, I was able to sell it for more than my parents paid 5 years ago for it and I bought myself a rag top Jeep that needed to be shot and put out of it's misery. What was once a throw-away junker, I and the guys at the shop, turned into a hell of a nice machine. Figure I do look kinda funny, my small frame behind the wheel of my Jeep with it's big tires and lift kit, I got the top down, blaring dance music as I cruise along.
A few months ago, it was a Sunday, I was on my way home from a book store; I had just picked up a few books on gay teens and grabbed two nudie magazines. As a passed through a green light I was hit on the rear passenger wheel by another driver. Dildo... I drove my car away, but shortly I was driving crooked, the rear wheel was bent. I dropped it at the shop and got a ride home. I had to take the bus to school in the morning, God I hate the cheese wagon. I walked the few blocks to the shop after school.
When I walked in, it got very quiet. Tools were shut off; there was a roar of applause. I gave the whole shop my trademark grin, told them to get their asses back to work, they balked but did. When I walked in the office, John the owner hastily left and my mother was beside herself with the giggles. There was nothing funny about my accident; it wasn't my fault, what was up with this. After a kiss and short visit, I made my way over to see how the guys were getting along with a Mercedes that was trashed in a roll-over. Everyone's small talk seemed to be stressed today and the whole damn place was giggling like girls. An hour passed and I started to feel kinda strange. I felt like I was the butt of a joke, and didn't even know it. I kinda got pissed; I was already in a bad mood about my Jeep and having to ride the bus. The walk over here from school was a bear with the heat. I was not in the mood for any shit today. John asked me to check the calendar on the tool wall to see when we could fit in a new job that the claims adjuster just called on. That's when I caught it. In place of the normal bikini clad model on the calendar was a centerfold of a naked man. I spun around and took stock of all the photos in the joint. Every picture in the place had been replaced by erotic shots from the new magazine I had forgotten in my Jeep. A look of horror crossed my face when I realized the levity of this situation. How could they. I ran for the door, narrowly dodging John's arm, I set out down the street. On my way out I noticed someone even had the balls to leave the other magazine on top of a stack in the waiting area. I would call my mother from a pay phone and have her pick me up. I could never go back there. Surly they never WANTED me there again.
I didn't make it far before I heard the tell tale sound of Ricky's POS dragging it's muffler behind me. He pulled to the side of the street and called me over. I was pissed but willing to listen. A short talk revealed the truth.
The day after I came out, mom came to work a basket case. She brooded all day but refused to discuss anything. It was only after much prying did the guys get the story out of her. They were not too shocked and surprisingly very helpful. They had gotten her in touch with friends and family they had that helped mom get through some of the difficult times and answer so many of her questions. Un-benonced to me, they had become a support team that she needed right then and continued to be there for the past year. Without them I think back that times may have been much rougher for both of us. Yet, we still had the issue that they had known about me for a year and failed to discuss it with me. It was time to go back to work.
Upon returning, I thanked everyone for taking care of mom, but informed them, From this day forward if there was one more staff meeting, about my lack of heterosexuality, without me being present there would be hell to pay. Well the whole crew stayed late that night to get my Jeep back on the road. Our work was slower than usual because be kept stopping to talk about how I knew I was gay, how it had developed in my head, what I thought of Cher's appearance in Will and Grace, what I saw in the future, and if I felt let down by the second season of "Queer as Folk". Luckily the only damage to my ride was on the rear wheel and I was back in pristine shape with just a new tire and rim. MMMM, rim....