Modern Relations part 07 Alexandra s Freshman Year
- 3 years ago
- 13
- 0
High School Part 1 - My Freshman Year free porn video
High School Part 1 - My Freshman Year
[In which Shaun ignores the early warning signs of a serious medical
problem - and later pays the price.]
You know how it is when you wake up in the morning and feel a bladder
that has filled up during the night and is signaling you that it wants to
be emptied, and like RIGHT AWAY! So you shuffle off to the bathroom, lift
up the toilet seat and stand in front of the bowl, holding your weapon in
one hand and releasing a stream into the bowl - often daydreaming that
you're a World War II aviator, depth charging German submarines with your
stream. Blam, there goes another Nazi to the bottom of the Atlantic!
Unless of course, your Mom served asparagus for supper last night in
which case you have a death ray in your hand instead of depth charges.
So anyway, I was standing there killing Germans the other day when I
noticed that my depth charges weren't the usual pale yellow color, they
were more of a pinkish color. "That's funny", I remember thinking, and
"Mom didn't serve anything last night, like beets, that would have
changed the color like that." But nothing else seemed to be different so
I finished up in the bathroom, got dressed, had breakfast, picked up my
backpack, went out the front door and over to the house next door to pick
up my best friend Jeff, and we walked off toward the high school and
another day of being low-men-on-the-totem-pole freshmen. And at school
that day and for the next several months at home, my depth charges were
back to normal so I forgot about the color difference that one morning.
At the beginning of the school year, I had signed up for the Boy's
Freshman Swim Team. Now, I've never really been into playing the serious
team sports like basketball and football - oh, I'll shoot baskets with my
friends but that's just for relaxation - not competition. But I had
always liked swimming and the Freshman team was just kind of a fun
activity to participate in. The first couple of times we practiced it was
kind of embarrassing - like, the coach had given all of us these tiny
little Speedos to put on, and so I'm standing by the pool with the other
guys, and all of a sudden I realized that I had this erection. Now, it's
not as though I like guys or anything - I don't know why it happened, but
it was pretty embarrassing to be standing there with this big boner
clearly showing through the tight fabric of my Speedo. But I just kind
of, like, pretended that nothing had happened and after a time or two I
didn't have that "problem" any more.
One of the things that I like about Jeff is his sense of humor - although
I wish he could "cool it" at times. A couple of weeks ago he came over to
my house as I was getting ready to go to school and announced in a loud
voice that my Mom couldn't miss hearing, "Jeez Shaun, will you hurry it
up? After you skipped that last English exam Ms. Fizer was really pissed
at you and she's giving us the mid-term exam today." I was like; I had
this look of absolute horror on my face as I grabbed my backpack and ran
out of the house. "You asshole", I yelled at Jeff as we ran to school,
"You know that never happened but now Mom'll be on my case tonight." Jeff
just laughed and gave me the finger.
But I fixed Jeff a week or so later. I got a copy of "Horny Mothers
Spread Their Legs" from one of my friends and composed a letter on a fake
letterhead from "Up Thrust Publications" to Jeff that said, "We're sorry
that we're unable to immediately ship you the copy of 'Gay Boys in the
Navy' that you recently ordered but please accept this free copy of one
of our other publications and we'll ship your order as soon as possible."
I wrapped up everything in a plain brown wrapper, wrote on the outside
"PERSONAL AND PRIVATE. TO BE OPENED ONLY BY THE ADDRESSEE" addressed it
to Jeff, and mailed it to him. A couple of days later Jeff called me and
yelled over the phone "Fuck you Shaun! Do you realize how much trouble
you got me in with my parents? I've been grounded for two weeks and now
my Dad things I'm gay!" I just laughed at him and hung up. After that,
Jeff and I agreed that we both had to be a little more careful with our
practical jokes.
It was several weeks after New Year's Day, when I again noticed the
pinkish color when I got up to take a leak in the morning. I pretty much
ignored it but over the next month or so it began happening more and more
frequently and eventually my pee was that color almost all of the time. I
also realized that it had gotten a little darker in color - what had been
a light pink was now a darker rose color. I wouldn't say that I was
really scared or anything but I was curious as to what had caused the
change in color. I tried doing a Google web search but all I found was
that a whole bunch of things could cause a color change - anything from
beets, to food coloring, to vitamins, and on and on.
I was too embarrassed to say anything about it to my Mom but I thought
that I could probably confide in Jeff - I mean we were pretty open about
everything to each other. So as Jeff and I were talking as we walked home
from school the other day, I asked him about it, "Uh, Jeff, like, you
ever noticed that your piss is a different color?"
He kind of looked at me like I was from a different planet before he
responded, "This is a joke, right? Like next you're going to ask me why
elephants paint their toenails."
"Naw, I'm serious," I said, "Like it's been some kind of pink color
lately."
"Oh man", Jeff replied, "That's really bad. Like if it were blue, or even
green or something it would be okay. But if it's pink it means that
you're turning into a girl."
"Oh fuck you", I yelled at him, "You're a lot of help, you asshole."
"Seriously", Jeff said, "You're probably just jerking off too much, or
maybe not enough, don't worry about it."
So I took Jeff's advice and ignored it.
That spring both Jeff and I tried out for the Freshman Boy's Cross
Country Team. Well, the tryouts were pretty much like, "If you can walk,
you're on the team." Neither Jeff nor I were really into competitive team
sports but we both liked Cross Country - yeah, you wanted to do your
personal best and all that stuff, but you could set your own pace. Jeff
and I usually ran together - so often in fact that the other boys on the
team began referring to us as, "The Twins." Actually, while Jeff and I
were running together, we'd start out with a pretty good pace, and then
after awhile one of us would speed up the pace a little, and then a
little later the other one would pick up the pace a bit more. And by the
end of the race we'd both be running all out and gasping for breath. One
of the things that I learned early on was not to eat a big lunch the day
of a race because Jeff and I would be running so all-out by the end of
the race that after we crossed the finish line we'd both stumble off to
the side and barf. Ah, the joys of running Cross Country!
One of my favorite times of the day was when I took a shower in the
morning - well, it wasn't so much taking a shower as the chance it gave
me to jerk off - which, of course, I did every chance I had. But I began
to notice that occasionally when I jerked off and "came", the liquid that
would squirt out also had this pink or rosy color to it. But nothing else
seemed different and I was too embarrassed to mention it to Jeff, and
certainly not to my Mom, so I just ignored it - I mean, it still felt as
good as ever, so why worry about a little change in color, right?
Jeff and I both had girlfriends. Well, nothing really serious or anything
like that but we each had a girl that we'd been going out with
occasionally on dates, and frequently we'd double date like when we went
to a movie, or bowling, or sometimes the four of us would just go to the
mall and hang out with the other kids and wander through the stores and
snack a lot in the food court area. In a way it was nice to be with
another couple because it gave the girls someone to talk to when they
wanted to talk about stuff that Jeff and I had no interest in - like
"relationships", and who was dating who, or who was about to break up
with who, and on and on. And Jeff and I could talk about important stuff
like sports, and cars, and when the girls couldn't hear us, about which
girls at school had the biggest tits or wore the tightest clothing or had
the biggest ass.
It was just before the end of the school year when the shit hit the fan.
I was standing in a Boy's Room at school, taking a leak, when I noticed
that I wasn't pissing pee, I was pissing blood - and not just a little -
it was, like, gushing out! Man, that shook me up and I headed right to
the Nurse's office. About ten seconds after I explained what had happened
she was on the phone to 911 and a half hour later I was in the Emergency
Room. It took them a couple of days to complete all the tests and then
they informed Mom and me that I had an advanced case of prostate cancer.
Prostate cancer for Christ's sake? Old guys get that. Not sixteen year
old boys. The doctors did admit that it was a little unusual for someone
my age to develop it, but the tests were conclusive and they scheduled me
for surgery the next day.
I don't remember anything about the surgery - they knocked me out with an
anesthetic - but man when I woke up in the recovery room was I sore. I
had this big incision in my lower abdomen, and a tube coming out of it
that was draining this really gross-looking liquid. I also had a catheter
coming out of my dick that was draining more gross-looking liquid into a
bag hanging on my bed. When the nurse asked me if I wanted something for
the pain, I took everything that they'd let me have. Anyway, after a
couple more days they removed the tube that was draining my incision,
showed me how to care for my catheter, and discharged me.
You wouldn't believe the bag of medications that they gave me to take
home: Vicodin for the pain; Uraxotral to make it easier to pee; a stool
softener and Cipro to prevent infections. They also gave me an injection
of Lupron and told me that I would have to have another injection every
three months, and also some Flutamide pills to be taken daily. I was,
like, man, just give me all the pills and let me get out of this place.
But Mom was doing her "concerned parent" thing and wanted to understand
what everything was for. The explanations weren't too bad till they got
to the Lupron and Flutamide - the doctor explained that because my cancer
had been pretty advanced that they couldn't be certain that they had
gotten all of it and the last two drugs would suppress the hormones that
might otherwise stimulate a recurrence of the cancer. "Like what
hormones", I asked. "Well, they'll reduce your testosterone levels", he
replied, "But the side effects, if there are any, are generally pretty
mild. And as long as there's no recurrence within about a year then we
can stop that treatment." Oh man, they not only had me carrying around a
bag that my catheter drained into, they were screwing around with my
hormones?
But they finally discharged me and Mom got me home. The Vicodin kept the
pain down and the worst part of the next couple of weeks was that the
catheter meant that I was pretty much restricted to the house. Well, I
guess I could have gone out if I'd really wanted to but who wants to be
seen walking around with a plastic tube coming out of their crotch that
drains into a bag of piss? So I just hung around the house and watched
TV, and played some video games, and slept a lot. Jeff came over every
couple of days and except for his first visit when I could tell he was
really grossed out by the catheter, things were pretty normal.
I was really looking forward to the end of the two-week period when I
could get the catheter out and start doing things outside the house. And
then disaster struck again. I woke up one morning and when I went to get
out of bed my scrotum was all swollen up - like it was about the size of
a grapefruit. Mom got on the phone with the doctor and he reassured her
that it was not unusual to have some degree of swelling and for me to
just stay off my feet and limit my activity and the swelling should go
down in several days. Yeah sure! The next day it was even bigger and
within several days it was the size of a small melon. It was so big that
I had trouble walking and couldn't put on any underwear or pants. And I
had to reach down and support it with both hands whenever I got out of
bed. So I spent most of my time wearing just a Tee-shirt or my PJ tops
and lying back in a recliner in front of the TV with this huge sack
spreading my legs apart. You couldn't even see my dick, it was completely
covered up by the sack, there was just the catheter going into a little
hole up near the top of the sack where my dick used to be. The first time
that Jeff saw me like that I thought that he was going to faint. The
doctor kept telling Mom not to worry that the swelling should go down
shortly.
Yeah sure! It didn't go down and now I was beginning to run a fever and
my sack was getting really sore and tender and the skin was stretched
really tight and it looked bright red in some places and black and blue
in others. What brought it to a head was when I woke up in the middle of
the night and started screaming. Mom came into my bedroom and I'm
thrashing around on my bed (she told me later) and crying and screaming
in my delirium that the monsters were eating me. She got the doctor on
the line and he told her to call 911 and get me up to the Emergency Room
RIGHT AWAY! I don't remember much after that - except hearing a siren,
and then lying on a table and a bunch of people working on me. I guess
that it was a couple of days after that when I woke up and realized that
I was in a hospital bed. Man, the pain I'd felt after the prostate
surgery was nothing to what I felt now and I screamed till the nurse came
running in and gave me a shot of something in my IV that knocked me out.
Over the next couple of days I drifted in and out of consciousness and
when I was finally awake enough to ask what had happened, the doctor came
in and told me that I had developed a massive staphylococcus infection of
a drug-resistant strain and that only a massive dose of an experimental
drug and surgery had saved my life. "Surgery?" I asked. Then he gave me
the bad news - because of the infection they had to remove a lot of
necrotic tissue in my groin. "A lot", I asked, "How much is a lot?"
"Pretty much everything", he answered. I think that was when I fainted.
It wasn't until I watched them change my dressings several days later
that I realized what had happened to me. I had a couple of big incisions
in my groin and not much else - no scrotum, no balls, no dick - just the
catheter tube coming out of a small hole where my dick used to be.
Several days later they discharged me for the second time - still with a
catheter - and with the doctor saying things about "possible
reconstructive surgery' which I pretty much ignored - I just wanted to
get out of that place. For the next couple of weeks I spent most of my
time back in the recliner in front of the TV, wearing just my PJ top, and
with a blanket spread over my legs and groin, watching TV, dozing, taking
pain pills, and watching my catheter drain piss into the bag on the floor
next to the recliner. Jeff came over almost every day to spend some time
with me. The first time I allowed him to pull back the blanket and look
at the result of my surgeries - the incisions and the catheter draining
from the hole where my "equipment" used to be - he got a funny look on
his face and ran out to the kitchen and I could hear him throwing up. But
after that he was okay and Mom showed him how to empty my catheter bag so
she could get out of the house for longer periods of time.
So after about three weeks, a quick trip back to the hospital and the
catheter was removed. Then I had to learn how to pee again. For a couple
of weeks I couldn't control anything - had to wear a diaper all the time
(well, it was actually something called a "Depends" - sort of a pair of
plastic briefs lined with this absorbent stuff), then I slowly began to
regain control of my bladder. The first time I tried to pee standing up
in front of the toilet as I had been used to doing, it was a disaster. No
stream of pee, just a shower that sprayed all over the place. I finally
admitted to myself that I'd have to squat down on the toilet to pee from
now on. And worse, even when I was done taking a leak, a little pee would
dribble out every so often so I had to wear an absorbent pad inside my
briefs all the time. Well, except that they weren't really "briefs" any
longer. The problem was that my boy's briefs had been designed to hold
and support my "equipment" and since I didn't have any "equipment" any
longer - I was completely "flat" down there - and my boy's briefs were
too big and baggy in front and the absorbent pad wasn't held properly and
pee kept leaking out and wetting my jeans. Finally Mom bought me a bunch
of girl's cotton panties and some sanitary napkins to use with them. Talk
about humiliating! Not only didn't I have anything left "down there" but
I had to wear girl's panties and sanitary napkins! Well, the only option
was to continue wetting my jeans, so I guess I didn't have much choice in
the matter.
The first time that I was able to take a shower, I was gently (VERY
gently) washing myself off down there and the full impact of what had
happened struck me. Five weeks ago I had been a normal sixteen year-old
boy and what was I now? Some kind of freak? I was so depressed that I
just finished my shower, dried off, crawled back into bed and stayed
there for the rest of the day, and the next day, and the day after that.
I didn't want to do anything except lie in bed and sleep, and stare at
the ceiling. Finally Mom got worried and called the doctor and he
prescribed some Prozac antidepressant for me and after I'd taken it for a
couple of days, I felt good enough to at least get out of bed, not great,
but at least I was back among the living.
Well, I spent what was left of the rest of the summer resting up and
regaining my strength. Jeff and I hung around a lot together, I talked to
him a lot about what had happened to me and how I was feeling about
things and what I was afraid my life was going to be like. Just talking
to him made me feel a lot better and he was pretty supportive. So by the
end of the summer I was ready to go back to school - no dick or balls and
wearing panties and sanitary napkins - and all of that crap - but at
least it was better than sitting around the house feeling sorry for
myself.
[To Be Continued]
Ofelia
- 12.06.2021
- 9
- 0
A Fresh StartChapter 23 Freshman Year
- 1 year ago
- 11
- 0
Stupid Boy Freshman Year Part IIChapter 10 Baseball Tryouts
- 1 year ago
- 39
- 0
