The New Kid
Prologue
BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEE-
Fletcher shot his hand out to silence the alarm clock.
Monday. Another weekend over, Now he would have to go back to school, back to boring classrooms and boring teachers. He would have to wait all week to get back to his art. Sure, he had finished a few projects over the weekend, but if he didn't have school, he could work on something big. Something spectacular! Nope, he had algebra to do.
Fletcher rolled out of his bed, quite literally. He slumped down the side of the bed and sat like a ragdoll on the floor for a moment before forcing himself to his feet. He stood up slowly, still tired, he had stayed up late last night, where were his pants? Oh, he had needed them for…something… He couldn't remember what. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his balled up fists, looking like a giant three year old. He padded over to the closet where he grabbed a shirt and a pair of pants at random, what the heck, might as well throw in a vest. He grabbed some fresh socks and underwear from his dresser and headed into the bathroom.
When trying to take off his shirt he ended up getting stuck. After a minute of struggling, he flung the shirt to the side, now fully awake. He slipped out of his boxers and stood in the middle of the bathroom naked. His slim frame shivered in the early morning cold, the house hadn't been heated by the sun yet. In fact, the sun wasn't even up.
He stared at himself in the mirror, everything was normal, everything in place, why did he feel like he had forgotten something?
He turned on the water, giving it a moment to heat up before stepping under the stream. The chill instantly seeped out of him. HE reached for his shampoo, gone. What had he done with that, it was with the pants, he knew that much… He stepped out of the shower and grabbed another shampoo from the cabinet, then stepped in again.
He rubbed his scalp thoroughly, as if it would remind him of what he had been doing before he went to sleep last night, he had been so tired… He took note of himself as he washed, he was thin, very thin, a skinny thing… but wiry, the beginnings of muscles showed in his arms, legs, stomach, chest… he had been trying to impress a girl, working out. Not now though.
Chyna had made it clear that she wasn't interested in him and he had kept bothering her, how could e have done that, so rude. Fletcher had resolved to pursue other interests, but none had cropped up. It was funny, the moment he stopped obsessing over her, she was no longer as irresistible to him.
"Hah," he laughed aloud at his own thought. Then he got to it. He sobbed scrubbing here, he had to be delicate.
As of late, Fletcher had begun puberty; at first it was all internal. His voice changed, that was annoying, the cracks and random changes in mid-conversation… He had become distracted too; he could never focus or remember things. Then the external had come, namely in his, um, lower regions…
Fletcher knew what a boner was; he just wasn't used to having them so…often. It was annoying, he couldn't walk to the board in class, his pants were always too tight. And the hair! He had hair all over now! Under his arms, on his face, below… That part was a little cool; it made him feel like a guy, a real mans-man, which was reinforcing to his self-esteem, considering his recent realization…
One thing he enjoyed about these changes, was the effect it had had on his wiener, no he was a big boy now, his dick. Yeah! That was what the older boys said, not wiener or pee-pee, dick! In short, it wasn't. It had gotten taller just as he had. It wasn't huge, but it was bigger, which made him happy, and still had some growing to do! But now it was sensitive to the touch, he had to wash carefully.
He poured some soap into his hand, no rough washcloth here! He wrapped his hand around it and moaned involuntarily, not again, just wash this time, don't give in… But he did, he gave in.
"Some self-control you have!", he thought at himself, but he couldn't stop now, not until he was done.
His hand jerked up and down on his dick at a feverish pace. HE moaned, thrusting himself into his hand.
He had only started doing this recently, after one morning he had woken up with wet sheets, it wasn't pee. A quick search of the internet was enough to learn what had happened, and how to do it himself. How to please himself.
He quickened his pace, his thrusting erratic, his thoughts on one thing, on that fantasy of his. He let out a prolonged moan as he blew his load into his hand. He felt absolute pleasure, then shame, that was wrong. White, sticky, so fun. He panted for a moment, then finished washing, making sure to clean the spunk out of his new hair.
Fletcher dried off and pulled on some boxer-briefs. He brushed his teeth, applied deodorant, went through all his morning rituals, then finished dressing. He brushed his hair, then shook his head, so it would mess up again.
As he stepped out of the bathroom he saw it. On the other side of the room was the collage he had made last night, there were his pants and shampoo!
HE packed his bag for school, put on his shoes, made sure he was ready for the day. Then he went to look at it, the special sketch, he kept it in the closet. Part of his fantasy.
He pulled out the rough charcoal sketch, it depicted a kiss. It started just above the couples' noses, and stopped at their waists. Fletcher was ashamed of the sketch, of what it meant, of the entire fantasy, of all of it! But he wanted so badly for it.
The sketch, even if you couldn't see their faces, clearly was of two boys, one of them was Fletcher.