Jumbo (3 page)

If he wanted to, he supposed he could get his cock to go down. It was often, really, most usually soft when he was wearing clothes, in class or at home, but he had got into the habit, with swimming, of making sure he always had a boner, because it made him look as though he at least had “something!” and he said this last word to himself, sitting in front of his locker with his head in his hands, his towel wrapped around his waist.

He would have to get changed. His dad would be waiting, but instead, as he said “something!” a sob broke out of him. He tried to hold it back, but couldn’t. Then he was crying helplessly. He held his head and sobbed, his back wracked with jolts.

In a moment or so there was a shadow. Someone standing over him.

Mitchell bit his lips and tried to be silent. He supposed it was Coach Marley, or maybe even his father, come to look for him.

“Are you okay?”

It was Tadd. Mitchell kept his head down.

“That was pretty cruel,” Tadd said, and as Mitchell heard the concern in Tadd’s voice, he shook his head, still holding it, and tried to stop himself. But he couldn’t. He sobbed again.

Tadd sat down beside him. And then suddenly Mitchell felt a hand on his naked back. He stopped crying and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, though he didn’t look up.

“You know, if you’re gay,” Tadd took his hand away as he started, “it’s not that bad. It’s not the end of the world.”

Mitchell sobbed again and shook his head. “I’m not!” he said, but he knew his voice sounded stupid. His nose was blocked. He looked up at Tadd quickly, accusing him, daring him to think he was gay, and then he turned his head down again.

“I can’t help it,” he said. And then, starting slowly at first, he told Tadd that he didn’t have any control over his cock. He told Tadd that he had gone to the doctor about it, and the doctor had said that because it was so small, it was going to be erect most of the time, because not very much blood had to flow into it for it to be erect.

Mitchell felt stupid for saying it, and even as he said it — he said, “It’s always hard” — he heard the falseness in his voice. “There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s just like that.”

Silence.

“Yeah. Well, I’ll tell you something,” Tadd said, “but you keep it to yourself, you hear?”

Mitchell nodded.

“I find it a little hard to get it up. I mean — it’s not that I can’t. I can. And it’s a hard fucker when it’s up, but man, I have the opposite problem, because I have to be feeling really turned on before I’ve got a boner.”

Oh, Mitchell thought as much as said.

He felt a little uncomfortable, hearing that from Tadd.

“Part of the reason why Julia dumped me.”

Mitchell wiped his eyes again and nodded his head. He tried to wipe some of the phlegm away from his nose, but man, he must have looked a mess — his eyes all red and puffy, phlegm stringing out of his nose and mouth. He stood up and reached into his locker for his hand towel, and he wiped his face properly.

He sat down next to Tadd again. The crazy thing was, his cock was still hard.

“I’ll tell you what,” Tadd said, putting his arm over Mitchell’s shoulders. “I’ll tell the guys about your problem — just quietly — and tell them to keep it to themselves, and you keep what I’ve told you to yourself.”

Mitchell sat still.

“Some of the guys are saying you’re a faggot.”

Mitchell didn’t know what to say, but he nodded his head, meaning yes, could Tadd say that to them, that Mitchell had a problem with his cock, that he couldn’t help it, that he wasn’t gay? Hell, it was like a lifeline. Tadd was offering him a lifeline.

“That a deal?” Tadd said.

Mitchell nodded and took Tadd’s hand, because Tadd was holding his hand out. And then Tadd stood up. He stood in front of Mitchell, looking over his head at the picture Mitchell had of a bike tacked to the inside of his locker.

“That’s a pretty cool bike,” Tadd said, and as he said this, he reached down and adjusted his gear, lifting his big cock in his jeans and repositioning it, right in front of Mitchell’s face. A couple of inches away.

Man, Mitchell thought, trying to draw his head back a bit. Tadd was such a jerk. He stood there for ten, twenty, thirty seconds it felt like, saying crap about the bike and rearranging his gear in front of Mitchell’s face — showing off his big cock and balls like a stallion — and after everything that had happened!

When Tadd finally moved, Mitchell stood up and got dressed quickly. But Tadd didn’t go. He stood there, talking to Mitchell about crap, about math. “You reckon you could give me a hand sometime?”

Hell, what was Mitchell supposed to say now? He didn’t have a choice. He nodded. “Sure. If you like.”

Tadd nodded back at him, locking his eyes onto Mitchell’s as though he was daring him to tell anyone what he had said about his cock, about not being able to get it up, as though he was saying to Mitchell, “You tell anyone that, you little faggot, and I’ll smash you.”

6

When Mitchell got out to the lot, his dad wasn’t there. It was dark, twilight, the last of the sky a dirty purple, with a cold wind blowing. Mitchell sat on the fence, waiting to see his dad’s car pull into the lot, the headlights bouncing as he turned into the drive. Man, it was cold. In the east, the sky looked ominous, snow clouds, most likely, though it was too dark to tell.

His dad’s car pulled into the lot and Mitchell figured that had been pretty good timing, everything considered. His dad picked him up on his way back from the office, because the school was on the way, and by the time Mitchell had finished with training it was usually about the right time for his dad to be coming home.

“Hey,” Mitchell said, throwing his pack into the car. He pulled the seatbelt across his chest.

“How you doing?” his dad said, taking a long look at Mitchell. Could his dad tell that he had been crying? “You look a little cold. You been waiting there for a while?”

“No. Just came out. Perfect timing. Five minutes — not even.”

His dad was already steering his way out of the lot, and ten minutes later they were home, his dad pulling into the garage. Mitchell put his hand on the door and opened it.

“Mitchell.”

“Yeah?” Mitchell said, turning, about to step out of the car.

“Just sit for a minute will you.”

Mitchell nodded. The garage door was clanking down behind them. It closed, and then the two of them were sitting in the garage, in the yellow light of the car.

“I need to tell you something.” His dad hesitated. “Your mother and I have decided to get a divorce.”

“A divorce?”

“Yes.”

Mitchell threw his head back against the rest.

“Your mom’s going to be moving out some time next week. She’s got a place to go. She wants to be on her own for a while.”

“Mom’s
leaving?
”

“Yes.”

“Well, can’t you ... haven’t you ...?”

“It’s what your mother wants, Mitch.”

“So it’s her idea?”

“No, Mitchell. It isn’t your mother’s fault. I can’t blame her. I can’t blame anyone. It’s just — these things happen.”

“Is that it?”

“What?”

“Is that all you’ve got to say to me?”

His father opened his mouth.

“You tell me in the garage, in the car. Where’s mom? Shouldn’t she be here? Shouldn’t we all be sitting down, talking it out?”

“There’s no need to get angry, Mitchell.”

“Angry. Hell — angry. You think there’s no need to get angry?”

Mitchell got out of the car and slammed the door. His mother was in the kitchen and he pushed past her, taking the stairs at a run. He slammed his bedroom door and locked it, and threw himself face-first onto the bed.

What the hell? A divorce? How much more fucked up could things get?

Sally, who had been sleeping in Mitchell’s room for the past couple of months, jumped up onto the bed and started to paw him. He turned over and pulled Sally towards him, drawing his arms around the collie and hugging her. She always knew. Whenever he was upset, Sally always knew. When he was little, if he was locked in his room and upset, she would stand out in the hallway and butt her head against the door until he let her in. Now she was getting to be an old dog, and Mitchell had to be careful with her. He held her gently, listening to the rise and fall of her breathing.

Divorce? He didn’t even know what to think about it. Couldn’t they have waited till he was out of school? Hell, he had his senior year to get through, swimming, everything. How the hell were they going to get by — Pete, his dad, and himself?

And this Jumbo thing. What had happened in the showers today? Hell, tomorrow he would probably be off the team. There was no way the guys were going to put up with him showering with them if they thought he was gay.

Mitchell put his hand between his legs. There was nothing there. He could feel his balls, but apart from that, nothing. His penis had retracted. Mitchell started to cry, drawing Sally closer toward him and burying his face in her fur.

7

The following morning, Mitchell woke to a bright blue day, the sun burning bright edges around his curtains. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His cock was hard, and in his shorts there was a patch of wet cum. He had had a wet dream. And as he lay looking at the ceiling, it suddenly came back to him as clearly as a cut-glass figure.

In the dream it had been Christmas time. There had been a giant Christmas tree in the pool at school, right in the center of it, reaching up till the top-most star almost touched the roof. The boys in the team had all been staring at it, walking around the pool in their speedos, and staring up at the tree, which seemed like a miraculous thing. There were tinsels and colored baubles, and even, between the branches, animals living: squirrels and skunks and woodpeckers. Mitchell had been walking beside Luke, holding his hand, and Luke had suddenly pointed, pointing out that there were dolphins in the water as well, though the smell of the chlorine was as strong as ever, mixed strangely with the scent of the pine tree. The water rippled blue and clear, the dark lines of the lanes wavering under the pool.

Suddenly, all of the boys were in the water, and naked, and in a circle around the tree. They had to give each other their most precious gift, and their most precious gift (in the dream) was their cock and balls. Mitchell knew that he would give his cock and balls to Luke, because Luke was his best friend, and he supposed he would get Luke’s cock and balls. He hoped so. All of the boys had their presents wrapped in little boxes, and they were moving around the tree as though they were synchronized swimmers, performing absurdly acrobatic moves (even moving themselves right up out of the water on their feet like a dolphin could on its tail). And while they were doing this, they had no cock or balls, just a smooth patch of skin (like they were store manikins) because their cocks and balls had been wrapped in boxes.

The dance ended, and the boys were suddenly fighting, fighting to get a place near the tree. The fight (which was also like some kind of dance) ended, and Mitchell was happy, because Luke was on his left-hand side.

Mitchell handed his present to Luke, and he expected, as he did this, for Luke to hand him his present, his cock and balls, but Mitchell was suddenly tapped on the shoulder. He turned, and saw that it was Tadd (who he knew had been on his right hand) and Tadd was handing a box to Mitchell.

Mitchell took it almost against his will. He reached out and took the box, and then suddenly, all of the boys were on the diving blocks (there were somehow twelve lanes now — a lane for every boy on the team) and they were naked on the blocks and ready to dive, ready to race.

Mitchell looked down and saw that he had Tadd Parker’s cock and balls. They were enormous, and it felt unreal, and as he looked, he felt his cock filling with blood until it was gigantic, rising up into the air like an elephant’s tusk.

He looked across at Luke (who had Mitchell’s cock and balls) and Luke said, “I can’t get an erection.”

Mitchell laughed, laughing at Luke because he had nothing more than a little piece of skin for a cock, and his ball sack was all shriveled. He looked like he had nothing, but at the same time, Mitchell knew that he had used to be like that, and he said, “I used to be like that.”

Luke nodded. He looked like he was going to cry. His pretty face crumpled, and then they were taking their marks, and Mitchell knew he was going to win the race, because the race was about who had the biggest cock and could keep it up.

A starting pistol fired and the boys dived into the water. Mitchell felt his huge stiff cock dragging backwards in the water, and he came up (all the boys did — they weren’t even going to swim apparently — just diving in was the whole point of the race).

And then, because he had won and Luke had lost, Mitchell got to fuck Luke up the ass, and he did this with Luke bent over the side of the pool while the other boys watched. It felt unreal, his cock sliding up into Luke’s smooth ass, and Luke was crying out, making little sounds of discomfort. Mitchell reached around and felt Luke’s little cock (it was stiff now) and he started to pull on it.

But as he woke up he realized he was pulling on his own cock, and this happened as he came (still half in the dream), his cum pumping into his shorts, and then he was lying on his side awake, and looking at the bright light burning at the edges of his curtains, at a new day.

8

The memory of what had happened yesterday crashed down upon Mitchell, and he groaned, wrapping his arms around his head. He shut his eyes tightly as though that might help, but he had spent hours last night trying to get to sleep, thinking alternately about his parents’ divorce and what had happened in the showers yesterday, though what had happened in the showers kept recurring again and again until he was replaying it endlessly, thinking it over and over.

The worst things — the things he couldn’t come to terms with — were these.

Firstly, that Robby Michaels thought he had the right to reach down and grab Mitchell’s cock the way he had. It wasn’t as though Mitchell or any of the other boys could do that to each other. But Robby Michaels had leaned forward and squeezed Mitchell’s cock to see if it was hard — as though you could do that to another guy! Robby was a jerk, a prick, and Mitchell didn’t care anymore if he said it to everyone he knew.