Its been a while since I wrote in this category, so I thought I'd give it another go now that I've had some more writing experience. This contains a small amount of incestuous content and cock envy, although it's mainly based around a young man coming to terms with his sexuality. As with most of my stories, it's a slow burner so don't expect a full on sexathon. All names, places are fictional etc etc. Hopefully you'll enjoy it.
Cuthlingford was, like so many small English villages, considered quaint by most people who lived there or visited. Steeped in history dating from the Middle Ages, the parish council had managed to stave off any new development in order to maintain its character and that's the way the proud residents liked it. And like so many the rural villages, everyone knew everyone else. Any newcomers who were "lucky" enough to join the small tight knit community were outwardly welcomed whilst secretly being evaluated by just about every single longstanding local - gossiped about in the one pub, the post office come convenience store, the butchers or bakers. It took a long time for any non local to be accepted. Sometimes years, in fact.
Jack was one of those unfortunate "non locals." His family had been there for 15 years, arriving when he was just 3 years old. His father, a carpenter and qualified electrician, soon became accepted as the "go to" handyman. His mother was a teacher at the primary school and his brother, older by 4 years, had eventually found employment at one of the farms that surrounded Cuthlingford. All his family had become entrenched in village life. All except for Jack, that is.
Unlike Mark, his 6'3" blond haired blue eyed brother, Jack was skinny, 5'4" tall with blue eyes, fiery red ginger hair and a pale white and freckled complexion. The only thing that had any shape or size to Jack, was his bizarrely large and round arse. His buttocks were a freakish anomaly that, given his small stature, drew the attention of just about anyone who saw him. Even his parents were left scratching their heads.
Consequently, he'd been taunted, picked on and ridiculed for his looks throughout his primary school years. His mother became so concerned, that at the age of 10 and worried that Jack may have some kind of disorder, made an appointment with the village doctor. After a thorough examination and agreeing that Jacks's case was indeed quite unusual, his best guess was that it may be a mild form of lipoedema. However, given how rare it was to occur in men and that Jack showed non of the other signs of the condition, he determined that it was most likely genetic. With the usual "if it gets any worse" advice they were sent on their way. As you can imagine, the whole experience was deeply embarrassing for Jack, only serving to confirm that, in his mind anyway, he was some kind of freak.
The bullying continued in secondary school, getting even worse after his first P.E lesson, when it was cruelly pointed out in the showers that he wasn't just small in height. If that wasn't bad enough, when puberty hit, or was supposed to, as every other boy developed pubic hair, poor Jack remained completely hairless. In fact, it wasn't until he reached the age of 15 that any pubic hair grew, albeit barely noticeable. Just the smallest tuft above his tiny cock. However, it was too late by then. Viewed as a "girlyboy" by most of the other pupils, his given nickname of "Jackie" was already well established.
By the time he left, Jack was a very bitter and lonely young man. Thankfully, secondary school was over 5 miles away in the closest town and only a few of the village youngsters were pupils there. But it was enough and his nickname and the reasons why soon became well known. Already viewed as "different" by the village community, the additional gossip only proved to cement his status as someone who was "not normal."
Hoping life would be less painful in the real world, proved fruitless. With little to no prospect of employment in the village, Jack meandered from one meaningless job to another, usually shop work filling shelves in town or something similar. He rarely lasted long before being dismissed for his attitude. That or he left if any of his old school bullies turned up.
In an attempt to find his "identity," Jack fell into rock music, grunge and thrash metal. The music and lyrics gave him solace, reflecting his angst. He changed the way he dressed and grew his hair long, thinking it gave him a more masculine appearance and it worked to some degree. Fortunately, his buttocks seemed to stop expanding by the time he reached 17, but to Jack they felt absurdly large. His world flourished when at 18 he began dating a girl he met at work and for 3 glorious months he felt almost normal. Unfortunately, it didn't last and his life imploded during a particularly amorous encounter in the supermarket storeroom that went further than he anticipated. When confronted with his virtually hairless 3 inch erection, his soon to be ex girlfriend burst out laughing. Impossibly humiliated, Jack stole a bottle of vodka, took it home and drank himself into a stupor alone in his bedroom.
He barely remembered doing it, but later that evening, drunk and angry, he went out and picked on the one other individual in the village that was also seen as "different." Namely Arnold Pickman. He was old, in his late 50's and whilst he was a genuine born and bred local, he was a semi reclusive man who rarely stepped out from his cottage at the edge of the village green.
Not only was Arnold old, but he was fat. Very fat and tall with it. A huge, fat, hairy old man whose parents had once owned the bakery that still bore the family name. After his father passed away, Arnold continued work alongside his mother, living at home. When she finally retired everyone expected him to take over, but instead, they sold the bakery and Arnold had stayed at home to look after his mother. As the years passed, the gossip became ever more convoluted. He was "slow." He was "weird." A "wrong 'un." It was ungodly for a man of his age to live at home with his mother. Some of the more imaginative villagers even began suggesting there was more to their relationship, sniggering whenever they saw him. Of course, it was completely unfounded, but then, gossip often is. When his mother died, Arnold was 42 years old. Over the years he became known as "the fat man" but some called him far worse.
So when Jack drunkenly went out that evening, he saw Arnold as the only other person he could bully. "The fat man" who, if the rumours were to be believed, used to fuck his mum. The only other village pariah. At first he just stood in front of Arnold's cottage and shouted names, the same way he'd done with other village kids when he was growing up. The same kids who now shunned and taunted him. Shouting soon turned into rage however and Jack picked up a small rock and threw it at one of the windows, which duly shattered. The sound of smashing glass gave him a sense of immense satisfaction. He vented his anger further with 3 more rocks and 3 more broken windows, only turning to run home after catching sight of Arnold's huge frame at the open front door.
Within 30 minutes Jack was dragged downstairs by his irate father to face the consequences of his actions. Arnold, dressed as always in brightly coloured baggy shorts and T-shirt, was standing in the kitchen with his mother. After a very detailed description there was no avoiding it. Arnold knew it was Jack and was threatening to call the police and have him arrested.
"There ain't no other short arsed 'gingers' who live here," he spat, wheezing profusely and his face red with anger. "I saw him plain as day. It ain't the first time I've had problems with him either. You should keep him on a fucking leash."
Thankfully his mother, ever the diplomat, eventually managed to placate him. That was when it was agreed that Jack would not only pay for the damage, but would also spend 3 hours every day after work, cleaning and doing odd jobs for Arnold for the next 4 weeks.
The following day, a Friday, Jack trudged across the village green towards Arnold's cottage ignoring the looks and mutterings of the people he passed. Already, everyone seemed to know what had happened. The heat of the summers day still clung in the evening air and in spite of taking a cool shower before stepping out, Jack was already sweating. His father was packing his tools away when he arrived, while Arnold stood watching on. Waiting.
