Chapter 1

Fat Mandy is my best friend. Her first name’s not really ‘Fat’, it’s Amanda, or Mandy. Her last name is really Marks, but even the teachers at school just called her Fat Mandy, even in roll call. Fat Mandy and me have a history and she wasn’t always my best friend. In fact, Fat Mandy shaped the way I am in some ways.

I’m Walter or Wally to everyone. Walter Small. There’s nothing I can do about my name either. It’s a name people can’t help but have fun with. Walter. Shit. What parent calls their kid Walter? Mom says it’s a distinguished name and it was her daddy’s. He died before I was born so I never knew him. Mom says I’m carrying on his name. Sometimes I wish her dad coulda been called Harley or Slash or something cool but no, he just HAD to be called Walter. At least Wally is a way more funner name even if it makes me sound like a little kid.

Then there’s Small, my last name. A lot of folk call me Small, because I am that too. I’m eighteen now and more than five foot four and a quarter inches tall by a sixteenth of an inch and I’m still known as Wally or Small. I’ve given up being angry when folk call me Small because of my size. In fact, I usually don’t care but sometimes I do. Fat Mandy says I can get my name changed at the courthouse now if I want, but I don’t know about that anymore. Maybe I AM a Walter or a Wally deep down inside and I’ll ALWAYS be small in stature even if I change my last name too.

I used to always be in trouble, always the one who everyone blamed first when something got broken or lost. I understand how I got that reputation. I do break a lot of things and I do find a lot of cool stuff I thought was being thrown away, only it was sometimes just left because it was already broken. I find it, take it home and fix it. As I’ve gotten older, the range of broken shit I fix has increased with Fat Mandy’s help. When I was eleven, it was toys and things. These days it’s ... well I’d better start at the beginning.

Me and Fat Mandy grew up living in trailers across from each other and Fat Mandy used to pick on me all the time because I’m short, skinny and a ginger. And ‘coz of my skin. I got me the reddest hair you ever seen. Even redder ‘n a fire engine. And I said I’m white? Not just pale but the whitest white there’s ever been. Five minutes in the sun and I’m burned, sort of white. Not that I care. The only thing that breaks up the white is my freckles. Mom says I got freckles ‘coz I spend too much time in the sun. My other friend, CJ, said once when we were little, that if I wanted to be black like him, I’d have to work on making my black freckles beat my brown freckles and then they’d all join up to cover the white, but I always knew he was full of shit. Brown freckles are better ‘n black freckles anyway. I would never tell him that, though. He’s real sensitive about his tan.

CJ’s half-caste. He calls hisself black but he’s really brown, just like my brown freckles. I think he’s just jealous I’ve got as much black in me as he does. And CJ’s got to report to County this week so I’m not gonna include him in my story anyway. I don’t want him getting mad at me writing anything that he don’t like. Mom says getting remanded to County is a nigger thing but she’s racist so I know she’s full of shit too. There’s as many white folks in County as there is blacks. And Mexicans and even chinks. We’ve got ‘em all down there. I know coz I’ve seen the road crews.

Anyways, this story is about Fat Mandy. When I think back, I seem to recall that she went by Amanda when she fist pitched an egg at me. I’d like to say I went all ninja on her ass but the truth is that the egg hit me right between the eyes and I cried. Amanda’s mom was right there and she said something like, “Amanda Marks! That’s not how you treat your neighbors! You get your fat ass inside right this instant!”

They’d just moved in and I’d spent the entire day sitting on my porch breaking something or fixing something - I don’t remember which - and watching them unload their station wagon over and over. It’s like they had so much stuff that the trailer would be bulging at the seams by the time they were done but that never happened.

I just liked to watch. I wasn’t doing nothing, I swear. I was just thinking about how dumb it was if it really was a girl that had to move in there after Raymond and his family finally got evicted for good. The Sheriff was out there for that and everything. Raymond and his family live somewhere on the other side of the county now. We don’t have a phone and they sure as shit don’t neither, so we never stayed in contact.

Raymond just never turned up to school anymore and I heard him and his mom live with her sister and his dad is doing fifteen to twenty in County. I thinkRay’s dad killed a guy or something. He was an asshole anyway and I wouldn’t put it past him. Raymond’s better off without him. I still miss Ray sometimes though. Me, him and CJ were the best friends ever, back then. But this story isn’t about Ray or CJ. It’s about Fat Mandy. I think I said that. Anyways, that was how me and Fat Mandy met. She splooshed egg on me and it hurt like H. E. double hockey sticks.

One thing about Fat Mandy is that she’s not really even fat. Now, that is. She’s actually about the hottest chick in the trailer park but don’t you dare ever tell her I said that. She’s got herself the biggest head in the county already and if she found out I said she was pretty I’d NEVER live it down. But she IS phat. Really. Just fat in all the best places.

When she threw the egg at me she wasn’t, though. She was just a little kid like me. Maybe eleven. Or twelve. I don’t remember. She didn’t start getting fat till she went through the change, as my momma calls it. I was ten but she’s older than me so maybe she was already twelve. And she dressed like a boy and had short hair, not like now. Back then I was trying to figure whether she really was a girl or a boy and I didn’t go over there ‘coz if she was a girl, well, you know boys don’t just walk up and start shootin’ the shit with girls. Not ten year old boys anyway. My momma woulda made sure I never reached eleven. And there was the fact that her dad was scary lookin’.

It turned out it wasn’t even her dad. Just some guy her mom knew. By the way he was kissin’ on Fat Mandy’s mom and stuff though, I thought it was her dad but it was just her mom’s latest boyfriend. I didn’t know that at the time so you can see how I’d think the giant with all the tattoos and a bald head woulda snapped me in two if I looked at his kid wrong if she was a girl and I wasn’t sure at the time. Turned out I was wrong about that too.

I remember crying and I’m pretty sure Fat Mandy threw me the bird before she went inside. She says she didn’t but she does it to everyone, even her mom, so I know she’s lyin’. Fat Mandy does that. She lies. She’d lie about being full after eating a whole thanksgiving turkey, just to be lying. It’s her thing and I learned how to deal with it years ago. The only revenge I ever had against Fat Mandy is tat it were me who first called her Fat Mandy and the name stuck with all the other kids. To keep the secret that she was a bully, she had to pretend her nickname was her idea and that’s why teachers started callin’ her it. But Fat Mandy never did like that humiliating name. Oh, one other thing. Last year we figured out together how to tell if Fat Mandy’s lying. Her lips move. I still enjoy reminding Fat Mandy of that.

Those are just some of the things that makes Fat Mandy, Fat Mandy. She still cracks me up and she’s gotten herself into some pretty bad shit to save me from gettin’ my ass chewed before so I don’t care if she tells people I’m HER man and that they’d better not mess with me. But I’m NOT her man. She’s a lot of things but HER’S? H. E. double hockey sticks, NO! If anything, she belongs to me and there’s some that know it too. But I’m gettin’ ahead of myself again.

This is the story about how Fat Mandy and me got to be friends and how I got to be here, ready to make a decision that’ll change both our lives for good.

As I said, Fat Mandy moved in across from me. My trailer is kinda the middle of the trailer park so I guess, her’s must be too. The park is a big set of circles with roads like spokes headed out and the only thing closer to the center is the community pool. But the pool hasn’t had actual pool water in it in years. Back when Fat Mandy moved in it did, but not now. Back when I was a kid, I could climb on the roof of my trailer and watch the pool parties they used to have. These days if I tried to climb on the roof of my trailer I’d fall through. I know. I’ve done it. Mom got riled up about that!

Anyways, I said about how we first met. I got creamed with an egg. After that, Fat Mandy decided she hated me just for living. She did stuff to me that I know now, made me who I am today.

I said at the start that I was always in trouble? Well I figured out a long time ago that was Fat Mandy’s doing. She started rumors about me all the time and one of them was that I steal shit. I didn’t even know she’d done that until I was probably fifteen even though it started with a bike I found in the creek when I was eleven.

SHE’d stoled it herself and tried to use it to jump the creek. Well THAT didn’t happen and she left it where it was in the water. I came across it and took it home. I even got the front wheel kind of straightened so it could be ridden again before Mr Patterson came and took it away. I got grounded for a month for that but it was okay. I had a whole yard of other stuff to tinker with so I didn’t mind.

At school she’d do stuff too. She was two grades ahead of me and she was one person with the teachers and another to everyone else. She was polite to the teachers and never missed handing in her homework on time but the truth is she never even DID homework. The teachers thought she was some kind of angel. But us kids all learned pretty quick that she was like a female Satan. She stoled everyone else’s homework, copied their answers before class and tossed their stuff in the trash.

At least she was an equal opportunity bully. Other girls AND boys. No one was safe and she didn’t care even if she was about to bully a guy twice her size and four years older. She’d just kick him in the nuts and talk to him while he was throwing up in the parking lot. I never understood how she passed the final tests to graduate either. I think she had to have cheated but she tells me she didn’t need to. She just guessed right and handed her papers in. Freaky lucky, is what she had to have been to be able to get all the way through school like that.

There was no one who she didn’t target although sometimes it was funny when she got a D after copying one of the dummies’ homework. Still there were plenty of other kids in her class and she quickly learned who not to bother stealing from. She woulda learned quicker who to steal from except that she never paid attention in class, to either the teachers or her classmates, so she didn’t know who the smart ones were.

Anyway, she was slick. This one time, she put a cockroach in one of my peanut butter sandwiches. Before that I used to keep my lunch in my locker but she figured out the combination to get to it. My mom made my lunch every day because we didn’t have that subsidized lunch thing and we couldn’t afford for me to buy a lunch every day. I only found the cockroach when I bit into something crunchy. And it was smooth peanut butter. That grossed me out for the rest of the whole day.

The next day there was an unsigned note on top of my sandwich which warned me to check the filling. I did. There was nothing there and I ate my sandwich but the day after that there was a note asking if I liked peanut butter and ass crack sandwiches. The note suggested I reply after I’d tried a peanut butter and snatch sandwich. As a ten year old I didn’t know what a snatch was but I found out later a snatch is the same as a girl’s cooch, or pussy.

After that I had to start carrying my lunch with me everywhere and I knew better than to keep my secret cash stash in my locker anymore either. She’d stolen the eleven dollars I had saved.

So you get the idea. Fat Mandy was a nightmare from H. E. double hockey sticks from when I was ten till I was fourteen. Never a week went by without a prank that I caught, but I know I missed a ton of others too. Just last year, Fat Mandy asked why I’d never freaked out about the poop she’d left on my toothbrush years ago. She said she expected to hear my screams from her house. What she didn’t know is that the light in our bathroom had burned out and we had been using a candle for months until I came acrossed a new lightbulb and fixed it, so everything was always really shadowy in that little room. Me and mom must have brushed our teeth for a year using a toothbrush that had been up inside Fat Mandy’s butt hole. The toothpaste must have masked the taste and smell of butt.

I was fourteen and Fat Mandy was sixteen when things changed. I’d had a bad week. My science project exploded in my locker (guess who) and I had a brand new (to me) bicycle that I used to ride to school rather than riding the bus. Except that this day, both tires were flat and I had to push it the whole way home.

All the seniors driving by in their pickups honked and laughed. No one even stopped to offer me a ride. Fat Mandy had ensured I wasn’t loved and adored by the seniors with a few rumors about me and an especially nasty one about me and a stray dog that had begun following me every day. I refuse to relive THAT particular rumor for a reader’s grins and giggles.

I got to my trailer and I was a sweaty mess since it was August in Georgia and I’d just pushed my oversized bike two and a half miles. I stomped up the stairs to my porch, not even seeing the lard smeared on the steps. A perfectly timed foot on the edge of the step and my chin clipped the handrail post on my way down. I coulda broke something! As it was, I got me a good-sized bruise.

I didn’t cry. I was raised to be a gentleman by my mom but I’d had it. I’d been tormented by Fat Mandy for years without reason or reply because Fat Mandy was a girl and boys cain’t do nothing back to girls for any reason. Mom was at work. She wouldn’t be home till near dark. Fat Mandy was across at her trailer, sitting in a broken recliner as if I was her favorite TV show. She had cracked up laughing when I hit the boards and was STILL laughing when I picked myself up and stormed over.

“You need a good whooping, you nasty piece of shit... “ I paused because Fat Mandy stopped laughing immediately.

I was standing in front of the daughter of Satan hisself and I’d just told her I was going to whoop her. She, the same demon who could make the senior quarterback piss hisself. I’d been there that day. I’d seen it. But I only paused. I was the most angriest I’d ever been with one of Fat Mandy’s stupid pranks and at that point I just didn’t give a hoot if she killed me. I wanted to put her over my knee like my momma used to do to me, more than I wanted to run away from the H.E. double hockey sticks’ spawn that was Fat Mandy.

I never knew how strong I’d gotten until that day. I grabbed Fat Mandy’s hair and I pulled her towards me. She actually squealed, maybe in surprise, maybe in pain because I wasn’t gentle. Fat Mandy was trying to pry my hands free of her hair instead of punching me. Still with my hand in her hair, she rolled over onto her back on her porch and I couldn’t help what I did next.

If she’d have just punched me, I’d probably be dead instead of telling this story but I learned right there and then that no one had ever tried to fight back against Fat Mandy and I learned something else too. A girl stops trying to fight if they get kicked hard enough in the cooch.

I’d thought only boys could have the fight knocked out of them by being hit in the nuts but it works with girls too! Even though Fat Mandy was sixteen and I was fourteen, she cried and then began to plead with me!

She done said some cuss words that I can’t repeat even now but the gist of it was that boys shouldn’t be touching girls’ privates, even with a booted foot through jeans.

I must have been temporarily crazy or something because then I punched HER! Right in the chest. I spun her onto her front, pulled up on her hair till she was kneeling in front of me bitching and cussing and I hit the softest, pillowyest target I’ve ever felt under my fist. Fat Mandy was called Fat Mandy not because she’s built like a whale but because her chest is as massive as her butt. She has a comparatively tiny waist and these HUGE hooters. One punch (I think I may have pulled my punch at the last moment due to her being a girl and all) and she went from cussing up a storm to apologizing to me! I still had my hand in her hair and everything! She just kept telling me she was sorry and I could whip her ass but please don’t punch her chest again although she called it a tit. I was so angry I dumped her head towards the porch and let go of her hair.

“You’d rather have a spanking than for me to use your boobies for target practice? Then beg!” I did say I was temporarily crazy, right? Even now I can hardly believe I said that to her but I promise I did. Know what she said back? She begged me to spank her through her jeans because of the neighbors seeing.

Part of me came to my senses. I was standing on a neighbor’s porch and I’d just beaten up a girl. A girl much bigger’n me. Made her cry too. I felt about a foot tall, all of a sudden. I spun on my heel and was about to head home when she laughed at me. It’s like her tears were fake they stopped so quickly and she’d been playing me the whole time. She LAUGHED at me!

Once again all I could see was red. It didn’t matter that she was a girl. It didn’t matter that she was older than me or bigger’n me. It didn’t even matter that she’d been a curse in my life for years. What I couldn’t handle was her laughing AT me. Every single thing she’d ever done before was subtle and I’d never ever seen her laugh when I fell down or got humiliated or grossed out. But laughing at me like I was nothing after I’d made her cry? After I’d kicked her in the cooch and punched her in the boob? Oh, H.E. double hockey sticks, no! THAT was not gonna stand!

I dropped my butt right onto her top step and demanded she get across my lap! In hindsight, I know that was the dumbest thing I could ever have done. From where I was she could have drop-kicked me into yesterday from her position.

Instead she immediately turned off the laughter and replied, “Not outside! You have ‘ta come in.”

I promise I don’t remember doing it but my hand curled into a fist as if I was gonna punch her again even though there’s no way I would have been able to reach her. My head was level with her waist. She coulda spun around and smacked me in the head with her behind if she’d wanted to. I didn’t even move. I just ordered her again, to get her butt over my lap.

Time seemed to stop at that point. Not really, but it seemed to. She looked at me and I stared back at her as if challenging her to refuse my command. I saw something in her eyes like a smile but she was biting her lip. She has since told me that she remembers that first time like it was yesterday. She says she was scared of me. She said the look I gave her was like an animal who would just as happily have ripped her arms off and bludgeoned her to death with them. Of course Fat Mandy is a liar so who knows? The result though was that she dropped her head and started to get to her feet.

“Don’t you DARE stand up, you danged bitch!” I know, my cussing can be as bad as Fat Mandy’s but I was really angry. “You CRAWL over here. You keep your head lower than mine and you slither over here like the snake you are!” Even just talking to Fat Mandy like that made me feel a little better. That’s why I did it. I wasn’t scared of dyin’ or anything at that moment.

It’s like God was talking through me. We go to church most Sundays and I knew all about speaking in tongues but this was like I was just sitting there listening to Ray’s dad when he was drunk, except that the words were coming out of me!

Fat Mandy did what I told her. I recollect that was the first time I ever saw Fat Mandy as a real girl, too. Yes, I was angry. Yep, I didn’t care what she wanted but the way Fat Mandy got from her porch onto my lap while I sat on her top step was the first time I really took note of her curves. Girl curves. Bad girl curves. Curves connected to a behind that would soon feel my anger.

That first time of me sticking up for myself was also nearly the last. You see, without even knowing it, my little head processed what I was seeing in an unrelated way to the anger my big head was feeling. It caused another thing to stick up too.

Fat Mandy couldn’t help herself. She HAD to make a comment.

“Is that a roll of pennies in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” She asked, pretending to be as tough as she usually is.

My reply was to once again grab a fist full of her long, bleach blonde hair and pull her head back.

“Want to drop your drawers before we start?” I threatened, knowing that could NOT be really me the words were coming from but meaning that if she didn’t keep her smart comments to herself, I’d pull down her britches too.

“Please, Sir. Not outside,” she repeated as if she didn’t care so much whether I spanked her bare butt or jeans-covered butt, just that her preference was for me to do it inside.

Part of me wanted to be caught right here, right now, by someone who’d make me stop. What Fat Mandy wanted didn’t even have a cameo in my thoughts. But the street between our trailers stayed empty and I stayed angry. And I had a reluctant sixteen year old across my knee with her thighs pressed hard against my virgin-boy erection.

I rubbed Fat Mandy’s butt a few times, figuring out how I was going to spank her. Remember, I’d never done this before and it had been years since I’d been over momma’s lap myself, but there was something else going on as well. Fat Mandy was a girl. A girl with a bubble butt (although I didn’t know what that was at the time) and I was a boy with wild oats running through my system faster ‘n I could ride my bike.

“Just get it over with. You want to spank my ass or just help me rub one out? We could do that inside, instead of where everyone can see! This is as humiliating as heck!” (She used the F-word though).

Her cussing brought my hand to life. I whacked her just as hard as I could, burning my own hand in the process.

“Yeah, baby!” She laughed. “A hundred more like that and you can go home while I finish up here,” she said. I had absolutely no idea what she meant but it enraged me more.

So I ignored the burn in my hand and laid another five on her butt in quick succession. Fat Mandy shut up but I don’t think it was because I was giving her a hellacious spanking. After the fifth one she moaned.

“Spread the wealth, loser!” She said after catching her breath.

Now, years later, I know that she meant I should spank her whole butt, not just in one spot. I had originally thought she meant I should get others to spank her too. In hindsight, she may have meant exactly that.

At the time, I didn’t care. She was getting a well-deserved spanking and STILL calling me a loser, which was just enraging me more even though my erection didn’t subside at all and was now hurting ME.

“Lose the britches, slut!” I yelled at her even though she would have heard me if I’d whispered.

“No!” She spat back. “Make me!”

Despite having a hand in her hair that had to be causing some pain even if my whooping her wasn’t, I had an idea of how to make her regret ever deciding to torment me. I reached down with my free hand and gave her a titty twister just like CJ did to me occasionally. I had no idea that it’s something a boy NEVER does to a girl even though girls have bigger boobies than guys. I just did it and I felt good hurting her.

I didn’t even have to feel around to find her nipple. It was like my finger and thumb were like a guided missile. They sought, found and pulled and twisted Fat Mandy’s nipple like they’d been doing it their whole life.

Fat Mandy arched her back, squealed and started blabbing promises to drop her britches all in one breath. I let go and she didn’t hesitate or even look around to see if anyone was around. She just popped the button, pulled down the zipper and wiggled her butt on my lap like she was very used to slipping her own jeans off while over someone else’s lap.

Fat Mandy was wearing the weirdest underbritches I’d ever seen! From the back, it was just a red string around her waist and connected in the middle where it divided her butt cheeks, disappearing between those fat cheeks, as if going up inside her. Now I know it’s called a g-string but back then all I’d ever seen was momma’s underbritches hanging on the line out back and they looked similar to mine. Fat Mandy had (and still has) the absolute prettiest butt I’ve ever seen. I found myself tongue tied when I first saw those globes jump into sight.

There was a little pink in the spot I’d been wailing on but otherwise they were creamy white just like my own skin (except for the freckles I have). I just looked and looked until Fat Mandy broke the spell she’d herself created by showing me her butt.

“It’s gonna sunburn before you finish if you don’t hurry up!” She teased. She sounded like she didn’t care that she was outside her own trailer with her pants down but later she told me she nearly creamed herself by being forced to strip herself half naked.

At the time Fat Mandy was a big old ball of weird reactions and ideas and I knew she was lying later, when she said she’d been scared to death, being exposed like that outside.

She had sounded anything but scared. Maybe bored? No, not bored. It was more like defeat. Like she was doing what I wanted because she had no choice even though she was bigger, stronger and ten times meaner than me.

Her words back then still stoked the flames I had in my heart. I took to waiting on her butt like a banshee and after a minute, she was verbally sobbing out loud like that same banshee had been dropped in hot oil. I only stopped smacking her butt when my hands could no longer take it. They were numb and tingling and Fat Mandy’s butt was glowing.

I dumped her off my lap and Fat Mandy literally rolled down the two steps to the dirt and weeds where the walk should have been if it wasn’t just an old trailer. If it had been one of the fancy trailers on the outside ring of the trailer park where CJ still lived (for another week before his family switched to an older, cheaper trailer on the next ring out from me).

She laid there crying and I felt nothing but contempt. “Stand up, slut!” I ordered her. “That was just a taste! You screw with me ever again and you’re really gonna know I’m angry!”

“I’m sorry, Sir. Really,” she said, pulling herself slowly to her feet. It was only when she was up that I saw it looked as if she’d peed herself. The triangle that mostly covered her bush was dark red and her thighs were shiny. She had way more pubes than me and her underbritches weren’t even close to covering them. I was still contemplating her underbritches when she added a few moments later, “I need to finish. Can I finish now, please Sir?” She begged.

It could be described as nothing else. She begged me. She wasn’t playing either. She had tear-filled eyes and she was once again biting her lip. Her little upturned nose was streaming snot and she didn’t care that her jeans were around her ankles. I hardly even noticed that first time, that her headlights were on full beam plus. Whatever bra she had on wasn’t enough to hide her nipples. I thought all girls had big ol’ hard nipples and I’d just never noticed before.

I was already finished, myself. My hand hurt like I’d spent hours scraping thorns off blackberry bushes but I absolutely needed to strip my pants off, climb under the covers in my own bed at home and take care of the throbbing ache between my legs. I didn’t plan on or intend to let her do anything more to make me angry all over again.

“Shit! You just caint get enough, can you Fat Mandy? No, you’re finished already. Go sit your butt in that recliner on the porch and you’d better not move a muscle until your mom and stepdad get home!”

What I didn’t tell her is that I wouldn’t be checking on her or anything. I had my own business to take care of. I did come outside about half an hour after that and she was sitting exactly where I’d told her to, not moving or anything. It was like she was a mannequin or something. She was staring off into space as if she was asleep but with her eyes open. Then I noticed her jeans were still around her ankles. She hadn’t pulled her britches up or anything!

Curiosity got the better of me. I walked off my own porch and onto hers a few paces later. Fat Mandy stared at me but it looked like instead of animosity, there was fear mixed with hope in her eyes.

“Now can I finish, Sir?” She asked as if she was talking to one of the teachers at school instead of a kid smaller and younger than her.

I still had no idea what she was talking about. “I already told you that you were finished. You are NOT gonna prank me ever again, either. Understand?” I asked bluntly.