High School Sophomore Cheerleaders
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High School Part 2 - My Sophomore Year free porn video
High School Part 2 - My Sophomore Year
[In which Shaun learns to cope with the aftereffects of his surgery,
notices a few changes occurring in his body, and confides in his mother
and Jeff.]
While I'd been wearing panties and sanitary napkins during the summer,
that didn't work for me when it was time to go back to school. My problem
was that while I could control the flow of urine, when I had to pee I had
to go, like, RIGHT AWAY, and I only had a minute or so to get to the
bathroom. And even if that would have worked at school, I didn't want to
have to jump to my feet in the middle of a class and bolt out of the
classroom and make it to a stall in the nearest Boy's Room before the
flow of urine started. So when school started, I wore my Depends under my
jeans. The funny thing was, that because of the added bulk of my Depends,
the front of my jeans was filled out a little more and they kind of
looked like they had back before I had the problem and when I still had
my "equipment" down there - so that wasn't too bad. I was surprised by
how much pee the Depends could absorb - of course by the time I'd "used"
it three or four times it was all swollen up and sagged down toward my
knees and made squishing sounds as I walked along - so I had to keep a
couple of spares in my backpack and usually changed into a dry pair
during lunchtime.
It felt really strange to first time I had to "use" my Depends at school.
Like, I was sitting in class and all of a sudden I got this
uncontrollable urge to pee and I held it as long as I could and all of a
sudden I felt a little trickling out into my Depends, and then the flow
became a little stronger, and then I totally lost control and it just
gushed into my Depends. So I'm sitting there and all this pee is flowing
into my Depends and I'm, like, "Oh man, I hope the other kids can't tell
anything's happening." But all that happened was that my crotch felt
really warm and wet and my Depends contained everything. At the end of
class as I got up to go to my next class I kept sneaking looks down to
see if anything had leaked out, but nope, nothing showed on my jeans so I
just relaxed and walked to my next class - wearing a wet diaper.
There were a couple of the guys that I'd never really gotten along with
and they were really getting on my case whenever they caught me changing
my Depends in one of the stalls in a Boy's Room. Part of the problem was
that the stalls didn't have any doors on them - well, I guess they had at
one time, but the story was that a couple of guys had been caught in one
of the stalls doing "unnatural things" so all the doors had been removed
- so that whenever I was in one of the stalls, anyone walking past could
see what I was doing. So these guys would, like, they'd stand there and
make loud remarks about "..... that boy who pisses himself", and ".....
the baby with his Depends", and ask " Does the baby need any help
changing himself?" After a couple of days of that I came up with a scheme
to get back at them so before I went to school the next day, I got a
large can of tomato sauce and emptied it into my Depends. I made sure the
guys that had been kidding me were in the Boy's Room when I went into a
stall to put on a dry pair and when their taunting started I turned to
them and said, "Jesus guys, will you quit picking on me? I'm not pissing
myself. I have this big incision down there and the stitches keep pulling
out and I have to wear these things" gesturing down at the Depends, "To
soak up all the blood." And with that I reached down into the Depends and
pulled out a big handful of the tomato sauce and said, "See, type AB+",
and threw it at them. Man, you should have seen their faces as this red
liquid they thought was blood came flying toward them. They ducked and
jumped out of the way to keep it from splattering on them and one of them
tripped and fell down and almost knocked himself out when his head hit
the tile floor.
Some of the other guys that had been in the Boy's Room at the time told
some of their friends and by that afternoon the story had spread
throughout the school. As Jeff and I were walking home after school, he
turned to me and said, "So, I heard that you had some fun in the Boy's
Room this morning." "Yeah", I replied, "Next time I'll remember to bring
the spaghetti", and that cracked Jeff up.
After that episode, the other kids at school were really nice to me. Like
they'd come up to me and tell me how glad they were to have me back at
school, and some of them would offer to carry my books or backpack for
me, and my tray in the Cafeteria. I had to explain to them that I really
wasn't an invalid, after all. The boys rapidly got used to me using the
stalls in the Boy's Rooms instead of standing up at the urinals - and
occasionally seeing me put on a dry Depends during the day. But after
another couple of weeks, things were pretty much back to normal and they
were treating me like just another one of the guys.
After I had worn a Depends to school for several weeks, it just got to
feel, well, sort of natural. Well, I don't mean that it's natural for a
teenage boy to wear a Depends, but it kind of just got to feel like
another piece of clothing. Like, I'd automatically get up in the morning
and put it on just like I put on my socks, and a shirt, and a pair of
jeans - without thinking about it. And in a way it was pretty convenient
- not having to worry about pissing my jeans, or having to rush to a
Boy's Room. I had occasionally had an "accident" at home - like the time
I was sitting in the family room and watching TV and Mom walked past and
glanced at me and then stopped and looked at me more carefully, and then
said, "Uh, Shaun, do you realize what you've done", and she gestured at
my jeans, and I looked down and saw this big wet spot and realized that
I'd pissed myself without realizing it. I mean, Mom wasn't mad or
anything, but I was really embarrassed so I quickly got up and went up to
my room and got out a dry pair of jeans, and as I was getting ready to
pull them on, thought, "Man, I don't want that to happen again", so I
pulled on a Depends before I put my jeans on. Ever since that
embarrassing time, I've been wearing a Depends when I'm at home as well
as when I go to school.
Boy, do I miss jerking off - in the shower in the morning, or when I'm
lying in bed at night - especially when I wake up in the middle of the
night and can't get back to sleep and need something to occupy my time.
But of course I don't have anything to jerk off any more. I did try
gently rubbing myself down there but that turned out to be about as
exciting as scratching my elbow.
By mid-November, I'd gained enough control of the flow of my urine so
that if I was careful not to drink a lot of liquids, and made a
precautionary visit to a Boy's Room at school or to the bathroom at home
every couple of hours, I could easily go for a whole day without having
an "accident." That meant that I could stop wearing the Depends to
school, and switch back to the panties and sanitary napkins. For another
month or so I still wore a Depends at night after having a couple of
embarrassing accidents that left me waking up in the middle of the night
in a sopping wet bed but by the end of the year, things were pretty much
back to normal - at least whatever "normal" means for someone in my
situation.
It was right around Thanksgiving that I noticed something happening to my
body - well, things had been happening to my body ever since last year -
and most of them not good - but this was different. I was brushing my
teeth in the bathroom after breakfast when I looked at myself in the
mirror, and then took a second more careful look, and then a longer third
look - I had developed a tiny pair of "boy boobs." Now, it wasn't like I
hadn't seen anything like them before - there were a couple of guys at
school that I had seen in the locker room in Phys. Ed. class that were,
well, kind of "well developed." Now they didn't have anything like girl's
breasts but the area around their nipples was kind of soft and puffy and
stuck out an inch or so and kind of jiggled when they walked. As I looked
down at my chest I realized that I now had my own pair of "boy boobs." I
raised my hands to them and touched them with my fingertips, noticing how
soft they felt. They were also pretty sensitive as I found out when I
stroked my nipples with my fingers. "Oh crap", I thought, "Just what I
need. Something else fucking strange going on with my body." But at least
they were pretty small, and because of my surgeries I had been
permanently excused from Phys. Ed. so no one was going to see them. And
since they weren't that big, as long as I kept a shirt on no one was
going to notice them anyway. During a routine post-surgery checkup I
asked the doctor about the changes and he said that was a common side
effect of the drugs I was taking. So I asked him when I could stop taking
the drugs, and he told me that I had at least another nine months of the
drug therapy, and I could only stop then if my PSA levels were normal -
whatever the fuck a "PSA" was. So I was, like, "I can't do much about my
boy boobs, so I'll just ignore them", which is what I did.
I was a little concerned because I hadn't been getting a lot of exercise
after my surgeries and I just kind of felt like, well, like I was out of
shape. I didn't seem to have as much energy as I had had a year ago, and
I seemed to get winded easier. So I talked Mom into getting me a
treadmill for Christmas so that I could start getting some regular
exercise. Man, the first time I used it I found out how really out of
shape I was. After about ten minutes at a medium speed I was gasping for
breath and had to slow it down to a walk. But I kept at it and after
about four weeks I was jogging at a pretty good pace for almost an hour
every other day. I was getting close to finishing up a run one day when
Mom yelled down the basement stairs that Jeff was there and wanted to
know whether I wanted to go over to the mall with him and see if there
were any good movies showing. Hey, sounded good to me so I shut off the
treadmill and bounded up the basement stairs. Jeff was waiting by the
front door for me and as I came down the hallway I noticed that he was
staring at me in a funny way. Well, maybe not at me so much as at my
chest. While jogging I had just worn an old pair of gym shorts and a
sleeveless Tee-shirt. I had worked up a pretty good sweat on the
treadmill and the Tee-shirt was sopping wet and the fabric was sticking
to my body. I looked down and saw that my boy boobs were clearly visible
through the wet fabric as I walked down the hallway. "Come on up to my
room while I dry off and change", I said to Jeff as I walked past him,
ignoring the way he was staring at my chest. Up in my room I stripped off
my sweaty clothes and dried off with a towel, giving Jeff another chance
to stare at my chest as I rubbed it dry with the towel before putting on
some deodorant, a clean Tee-shirt and panties, and a sweater and jeans
before we headed off to the mall. At least once I had on the clean
clothes Jeff stopped staring at my chest and that made me feel a lot
better. Like, it had been pretty embarrassing to have him staring at me
like that but it would have been even more embarrassing to have to talk
to him about it so I figured that it was just better to pretend that it
had never happened.
I guess that it was around February, or maybe March, when I began to have
a problem with the nipples on my boy boobs. Well, the problem wasn't with
the nipples themselves, but with the clothing that I was wearing. As my
nipples had gotten larger they had also gotten more sensitive and
eventually it got to the point where it was almost painful to feel my
clothing rubbing against them as I moved. I tried putting a Band Aid over
each nipple and that did protect them, but the adhesive strips irritated
the soft flesh of my boy boobs so I had just traded one problem for
another. Then I tried putting some Vaseline on my nipples to reduce the
friction with my clothing - and that helped but then I had these greasy
stains on my clothes over my nipples. I finally solved my problem by
accident when I was browsing through a Dollar Store - looking at some of
the CDs they had for sale. I ended up walking down one aisle where they
had some clothing and came upon a display of tank tops. There must have
been something about them that caught my eye because I stopped and looked
at them and then picked one up. Wow, did it feel soft and smooth. I
looked at the label and found that it was 75% silk, 20% cotton and 5%
rayon - guess that it was the silk that made it feel so nice. But when I
looked at the label I also found out that it was a girl's top - well,
actually it was a "silk charmeuse lingerie tank" - and it did have a
little of this lacy trim around the edges. But it did feel so nice, and I
figured that I'd be wearing it under my other clothes so that no one
would be able to see it anyway, and they were, like, three for a $, so I
bought nine. As soon as I got home I pulled off my Tee-shirt and replaced
it with one of the new silk tank tops and gosh, did that feel a lot
better, and the lace trim didn't even bother me. I was wondering if Mom
would say anything when she saw them in the laundry but I guess that she
either didn't notice them, or didn't care as she never said anything to
me.
About the time that spring rolled around however, I realized that I
couldn't continue to ignore my boy boobs any longer. They had continued
to enlarge during the winter and were now these two soft puffy "cones"
that stuck out almost two inches from my chest. Even when I wore a tank
top and a loose sweater or shirt over it, if someone looked closely at me
I thought that they might be able to see their shape under my shirt.
Well, maybe I was exaggerating a little, and maybe they weren't THAT
obvious, but if they got any bigger than they would be noticeable so
after about a week of trying to figure out how to bring the subject up, I
looked at Mom during breakfast one day and stammered, "Uh, Mom, like, uh,
I wanted to ask you about something."
"Yes Shaun", she said, "What's on your mind?"
"Well, uh", I answered, beginning to blush like mad, "My chest is, uh,
well, like, a little swollen and I don't want the other kids to notice,
and uh, I was wondering if there was something I could wear to hide it."
"I noticed what you're concerned about, after all you can't live in the
same house with someone without being aware of what's happening to them
or seeing them in their underwear at times", she responded, and I'm like
really blushing now and wishing that I'd kept my big mouth shut, when she
continued, "I was going to ask you if you wanted to do something to make
your chest look smaller, and I'd stopped by the drug store a couple of
days ago and picked up something that might be just what you're looking
for", and she got up from the table and walked to the first floor
bathroom and came back with a small box in her hand.
"I think this will fill the bill for you", she said as she handed me a
box marked 'ACE Elastic Bandage, with Velcro fastener, 4 inch width',
"Try it and see how it works."
At that point I was so embarrassed that I would have agreed to anything
to end the conversation, so I grabbed the box and went up to my room and
spent about thirty minutes experimenting with the ACE bandage. It took a
couple of tries before I learned how to get it tight enough so that it
wouldn't slip off, and yet not so tight that I had trouble breathing, and
how to place the layers of the bandage so that I was completely "covered
up", if you know what I mean. But eventually I got it right and sure
enough, once I had the bandage on, even with a fairly tight sweater you
couldn't see what had happened to my chest. So after that, whenever I was
going out of the house, or to school, or when Jeff or someone else was
coming over to the house, I'd take a couple of minutes to put on the
bandage and cover myself up. I did find that after about a week of using
the bandage that it began to lose its stretch and I'd have to buy another
one to replace it, but they only cost a couple of bucks and I talked Mom
into keeping a couple of extra bandages stocked in the bathroom.
Just before the end of the school year Jeff and I and a bunch of the guys
were sitting in the stands, watching our high school baseball team get
beaten really bad in the last game of the season. After the game was over
some of the guys wanted to go over to the mall and hang out but I'd done
that a couple of times in the past week and really didn't care about
doing it again that soon. "Want to grab some pizza", I asked Jeff, and he
agreed so we walked out to his car in the parking lot and drove to a
nearby Pizza Hut. We were sitting in a booth, sharing a pitcher of Pepsi
and a small cheese pizza and just kind of shooting the breeze - not
talking about anything in particular, when I noticed that Jeff was
sneaking an occasional glance at my chest. "Oh fuck", I thought, "Did the
bandage slip off?" But when I looked down at my chest everything seemed
to be normal so I looked up at Jeff and asked, "Are you staring at me or
something?"
Jeff looked like he was really embarrassed and he was blushing as he
stammered, "Uh, well, um, like you know how, uh, your chest was a little
swollen a couple of months ago. But now it looks like everything is okay.
And, uh, I guess that's good." And his voice kind of trailed off like he
wasn't sure what to say and I didn't want to have a conversation with him
right there in the Pizza Hut about my chest, so I just changed the
subject to how badly our team had just played in their last game and we
talked about that for awhile as we finished the pizza and Pepsi.
As we were pulling out of the parking lot, Jeff asked me if I wanted to
come over to his house and watch some TV and just hang out and that
sounded pretty good to me so I agreed. As we were driving along I started
thinking about how Jeff was my best friend, and how we had always been
pretty open and honest with each other, and how I hadn't really answered
his question back in the Pizza Hut. By the time we reached his house and
settled down in the basement rec room in front of the TV, I'd made up my
mind so I turned to him and said, "Jeff, if I tell you something, will
you absolutely, positively promise not to repeat it to anyone else?" He
just looked at me with this questioning look on his face for a few
seconds before he responded, "Yeah, sure, like you can trust me, you
should know that."
"Well, I didn't really answer the question I think you were asking me
back in the Pizza Hut", I said, "You know, when you were looking at my
chest." And I was the one who was blushing now as I continued, "Well, the
problem that I was having with my chest is still there and it's gotten a
little worse since that time you saw it when I had been exercising. But
like, I guess that if there is any other person in the world that I can
be honest with, I guess that you're that person, so here goes." And with
that I reached up under my sweater and popped the Velcro tab off the
bandage and let it slide down off my chest. I then reached down and
lifted up the bottom of my sweater to expose my chest for Jeff to see.
His eyes got really big as he stared at the two rounded swellings of my
boy boobs.
"They're still there. And they've even gotten bigger" I said, "And I was
so embarrassed that I've been covering them up with a bandage. And I feel
like such a freak with these things on my chest. And ..... and ..... and
.....", and I burst into tears. Jeff just looked at me as I sat there
with tears streaming down my face, and then after a minute or so he moved
over closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders and said, "Uh,
Shaun, uh, don't worry, I won't tell anybody, and uh, they're really not
that, uh, big or gross looking or anything, and uh, you shouldn't worry
about it, and uh .......", and then his voice trailed off as if he wasn't
sure what to say. I wasn't sure how I felt at that point - I'd just
exposed my chest to my best friend, and then I'd started crying, and now
he had his arm around my shoulders. Finally I just said, "I've got to go
to the bathroom", and got up and ran upstairs to the bathroom where I
splashed some water on my face and composed myself before I went back
downstairs. I just kind of acted as if nothing had happened as I sat back
down on the couch, but not too close to Jeff, as we continued watching
TV. Well, the one thing that that was different was that I hadn't
bothered to put the bandage back on and you could see my boy boobs
showing through my sweater and I noticed how Jeff had been staring at
them as I came down the stairs. But we just kind of pretended that
nothing out of the ordinary had happened as we watched TV.
After that, if it was just going to be just Jeff and me doing something
at his house or at my house, I wouldn't bother putting on the bandage to
hide my chest, and Jeff eventually got to the point where he wasn't
staring at my chest all the time.
I went back in for a one-year check-up at the hospital last week and
after running a bunch of tests, the doctor told me that there was good
news and bad news. The good news was that my PSA level was low, but the
bad news was that it wasn't quite as low as they would like it. So I'm,
like, "What's a PSA level?" And he explained that it's a measure of
what's going on with your prostate. A low level indicates everything's
probably okay, a higher level indicates there may be a problem - like
some of the cancer is still present. If my level had been higher it would
have indicated that the cancer was present - and spreading. My lower
level told him that there might still be a little cancer present but that
it was dormant and because of that I needed to continue the hormone
treatments for another year. "Another year of these?" I asked, gesturing
at my boy boobs. "Yes", he replied. "Fucking great", I thought.
[To Be Continued]
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