Note to the Reader: Two things: First, this is a variation of my short story Born in David's Basement. It was one of my favorites but I never liked the process used to transform Michael (Josh in the original). This one I like better, and I wrote an entirely new scenario around it. I dedicate this version to those who enjoyed the original and kindly wrote me to say so.
Second: Although this story concerns the eventual successful coupling of David and Michelle (Michael's alternate-universe self), it contains a fair amount of gay sex and much discord between David and Michael. For those heterosexually inclined (like me), it is David and Michelle who share the climactic sex scene, so this is more a Het story than a gay one. I tell you this in the hopes of getting a larger readership, because the gay aspect turns a lot of readers off and stops them dead at the first gay dialogue/interlude. To those readers I simply ask for the benefit of the doubt and hope you read the story.
Thanks - Angie
It started when I was 16 years old. David was a few months older than me, and we both attended Martin Luther King High School in Holyoke. It was late May, and school was due out in two weeks. We had summer jobs lined up with David's dad, a landscaping contractor in Holyoke. Since the beginning of April, we'd been working Saturdays and some Sundays.
The day it started was a backbreaker. We both were seriously dragging, me especially, who weighed like 113 lbs sopping wet. I was 4" shorter than David's 5'7" height and he outweighed me by 30 lbs. He got teased a lot about my being his 'girlfriend', though no one actually took that seriously, except for maybe me. I was frustratingly serious about it. I kept any hint of my feelings from David.
On the way home, we fell asleep in Mr. Chaney's Chevy Suburban. We got to the house at 6 o'clock, and dragged ourselves out of the car and up the back steps to the kitchen. I was spending the night, as I had the last three Saturday nights. We took our boots off at the back door and left them outside on the porch. Mrs. Chaney ordered us to touch nothing or go nowhere but straight up to David's room and get out of our dirty clothes. We were not even to sit down on the bed. One look at us would explain why.
"You take Dad's shower," David said wearily. He leaned against his dresser and shrugged out of his jeans and t-shirt while I did the same leaning against his desk. I could fall asleep standing up if I stayed motionless for more than 10 seconds. Down to our boxers, we threw our dirty clothes into the hamper and I wrapped David's spare bathrobe around myself. As always, it was difficult to keep my eyes away from David's bare chest, arms and legs. I was eternally grateful that he did not share my 4th period gym class, so I wasn't subjected to him completely naked. In his boxers and socks was bad enough.
David had brown hair and brown eyes. He was one of the most popular guys in 10th grade, but didn't have a lot of interest in girls. Mostly, he found them irritating. He played football and soccer and especially excelled in softball; he was destined for certain jock-hood. I was undersized, but semi-popular because girls found me irresistible. Guy's shook their heads and rolled their eyes and sighed dramatically the way Justin Bieber's classmates must have in high school. I liked girls, as much as any 16 year old, but I secretly adored David.
I dragged myself down the hall to Mr. And Mrs. Chaney's bathroom, tapped on the door, got no answer and went in and turned on the light. Mr. Chaney was nice enough, but grouped me in the same category as Justin Bieber, tolerating me, though considering me next to worthless as a laborer. The majority of his crew were macho Hispanics who just had a field day with me. I was emasculated every weekend by their veiled innuendoes and crude jokes, and if not for David, I wouldn't have come back after the first day. One had even patted my ass that afternoon, leaving me totally humiliated. The galling part was they were right, at least as far as David went, which curiously, they never intimated. I longed for David and couldn't stop.
I turned on the shower and dropped the robe on the floor and followed it with my shorts. My cock was a pitiful little shrunken thing the size of my thumb. Erect, it was nearly as pitiful, measuring 4-1/2" long, and not much bigger around than my middle finger. David outsized me by a mile. I'd seen him often enough when we took a leak outside to know he was every bit of 6" long when erect, and probably closer to 7" My saving grace was my overall smallness; I'd be humiliated to be David's size with a pencil dick.
Under the spray, dirt run off me in waves, turning the tub bottom gritty and brown. I spent the first few minutes swishing the water with my feet to get it down the drain. Then I shampooed my hair and soaped up every inch of skin I could reach. I even had dirt between my butt cheeks, making my asshole gritty. I had to laugh about that.
David was ridiculously straight, almost homophobic when it came to gays or any kind of questionable behavior. He tolerated me because we were best friends; but he also didn't know what to make of me some times. I feared our days of friendship would end when college got hold of us. The knowledge almost made me cry.
I dried off and wrapped myself up in David's robe again. I fingered my longish hair into place and stood observing myself sourly in the bathroom mirror. I would make a pretty girl, I thought: blond hair and blue eyes, a narrow, attractive face, high cheek bones and forehead, a cutely dimpled chin and a perfect nose. I opened the robe and exposed my effeminate-looking body, slender and narrow-waisted, hips and thighs more like a girl's than a boy's, my chest an 12-year-old's on the verge of sprouting breasts. Something about my pectorals and nipples looked distantly odd, and for the past six months I'd been uncomfortable taking my shirt off in gym or anywhere else in public. I refused to take it off at work and give them something else to joke about. If only I were a girl, I thought. That would solve everything.
In the bedroom I pawed through my bag for fresh boxers and slipped them on under the robe. I could see no way of keeping the robe on without drawing attention, but discreetly turned away from David as I donned my t-shirt and slipped on baggy shorts over my boxers. David had no such difficulty and stayed in his boxers for an uncomfortable length of time before he dressed. To my horror, I began to feel stirrings inside my boxer shorts. This might have been truly humiliating if I wasn't so small, and my boxers and shorts so baggy. David never noticed. Dressed, he lead the way downstairs and Mrs. Chaney fed us dinner.
We crashed in the family room and played Halo and Medal of Honor until nearly midnight, when Mrs. Chaney chased us off to bed.
"You two can barely keep your eyes opened," she said disgustedly. She was in pajamas by then and for modesty's sake had encased herself in a satiny green robe that sparked the fashion bug in me. She also sparked the part of me that controlled my penis and testosterone secreting glands.
Dave's mom was 38, brunette, possessed of an adorable figure and the identical twin of a certain president's wife from the early 1960's. I'd once seen her braless in a loose-fitting tank top and thought I'd go spastic. She'd been careful around me since then, though my reaction must have flattered and pleased her. I was still masculine enough to fantasize about her in bed.
The dream I remembered best was also the weirdest. We were married and Christine was pregnant with puppies. The ultrasound had identified six in her new litter, three males and three bitches. She was sitting opposite me in bed, guiding my hand over her slightly distended belly, locating each and selecting a name for it. This was our fourth litter together and we'd kept all 18 from her previous three, currently asleep on our bedroom floor in doggie beds. Suddenly Christine leaned back and spread her legs to display a stainless steel tube Dr. Singh had inserted into her vagina to protect against the sharp-clawed little devils when they scrambled free. The plastic ring she'd worn previously had not held up well against her 18 newborn pups. The sight of her glistening cervix and the rest of her pink genitals did me in. For months afterward, I couldn't see a puppy without thinking of David's mom.
Banished to the bedroom, we hauled out the air mattress and blew it up with the built-in pump. Mrs. Chaney insisted we make it up like a normal bed and so we wrapped it with a fitted sheet, spread and tucked the flat, and then covered it with a blanket. I fluffed my two pillows while Mom idly shot the breeze with us a few minutes, making me progressively more uncomfortable as I envisioned her without the robe, and then without the pajamas underneath. She'd freak if she had scoped my aching heard on. I hoped there would be no accidents tonight in my shorts.
I'm not sure when I went to sleep. I only knew it was after three when David shook me awake with a hand on the shoulder.
I sat up with a start. "What's the matter?" I asked, looking quickly around the bedroom but seeing nothing wrong in the dim illumination of his nightlight.
"Shhhhhh!" He looked at his bedroom door, listening intently. I listened along with him.
"What's the matter?" I asked again.
He shook his head, continuing to stare at his bedroom door and listen. After a moment, I began to understand this was more because he didn't want to answer me, than about someone overhearing us. I sat up cautiously.
"Is everything all right?" I whispered.
.... There is more of this story ...