Characters are over 18 and fictional.
This is my first attempt at a story of this nature, and I'm still deciding on whether or not to write a second chapter.
All comments, complementary or critical, are greatly appreciated.
I don't usually change things I've already uploaded, but as I've decided to continue this story I've cleaned up a few mistakes I noticed upon re-reading, and some that were helpfully pointed out to me.
I'd like to thank everyone for the supportive comments this story has received. My writing won't improve if I don't get feedback, and knowing what works and what doesn't is a great help.
So thank you.
I hated my twin sister's best friend.
Her name was Jessica.
When we were younger, she tormented me endlessly.
She mocked me for my skinny frame, my slightly higher than average voice, and for a dozen other apparently obvious flaws. This continued through all the years I'd known her. Recently, her favourite comment was about the fact that I was 18 and had never kissed a girl.
I blamed this partly, but not entirely, on her. Every time I met her, my confidence took another hit. Even if she had a little Friday-night sleepover with my sister, even when our families went on summer trips together, even when we were just supposed to be hanging out and being civil to each other, she would just never stop with the criticisms, the insults, the stupid little nick names.
It felt like she'd set me up as a kid for my life as a teenager. All the way through grade school and high school, I'd been picked on in some way or another. She wasn't always the source of the insults, but she usually inspired them. I was the designated whipping-boy pretty much my whole childhood, all thanks to her. I had friends, sure, and not everyone hated me. But everywhere I went, every new class, every new group of people, she was there. She and my sister were always the among the most popular, and Jessica lead them against me.
Over the years I could feel it having an effect on me. I didn't like going out much, I hated meeting new people. I was shy, quiet, withdrawn, and lonely. Like I said, I blamed it on her that I hadn't had a girlfriend before. There's only so much social rejection a guy can take before he just stops trying.
I couldn't understand why she seemed to hate me so much. Over the years I learned that I wasn't special, she just seemed to hate most people, and I happened to be around her a lot. She really was just a bitch, in general.
As we got older, her insults got better. And by better, I obviously mean worse. They went from being general to being painfully specific. She picked up on my cracking voice, my sparse peach-fuzz facial hair, and my growth-spurt induced clumsiness. When we hung out with other people in a group, she'd point out how I got nervous when I talked to girls, and she'd constantly belittle me in front of new people.
When we were younger, I hated her. Like, really hated her. I wished she was dead. I'd grown up a lot since those days, emotionally. I felt that I was more stable. I still didn't like her, but at some point I'd tried to stop paying attention to her constant hostility. These days it had calmed down a lot. She still never had a civil word to say to me, but over the years it'd been reduced from constant mockery to the occasional snarky remark.
It didn't help that she went from being a cute little girl to a gorgeous young woman. She had a beautiful, perfectly symmetrical face, with big green eyes and soft, flawless skin. She also developed quite large D cup tits pretty young, which made her even more popular. Both she and my sister took good care of their bodies too, jogging together most days after school.
And she was tall. I grew a little slower than her, and she'd delighted in towering over me while she did. It lasted way longer than it should have, but thankfully not forever. At 18 I was an even 6 feet, and she was around 5'9.
I knew, objectively, and through people telling me, that she was attractive, but I never felt that way about her. I felt nothing but distaste and disgust for her.
My parents never noticed, even when she'd insult me to my face when we were young. They thought it was just normal kid stuff. Rose, my twin sister, knew about it of course, but it was never as bad when she was around. I wasn't alone with Jessica very often, but she'd really ramp it up when we ever were. I started spending less and less time with the two them.
I think that was one of the worst things about the whole ordeal. Rose and I used to be really close, but we'd grown apart the more Jessica had become a part of her life. By the time we were 18, we were like strangers living in the same house, going to the same school, but hardly saying more than a few words to each other a day.
It was a Saturday, and I'd woken up a little late.
By the time I got showered and got downstairs to make myself breakfast, Jessica was already there. I usually tried to get something to eat and go back upstairs to spend the day on my laptop before bumping in to anyone, but I'd stayed up too late the night before and ended up sleeping in.
I walked towards the kitchen. She'd be in there by now. She came here every Saturday morning, ate breakfast, then hung out here all day with my sister, only occasionally leaving to exercise or shop or something.
My parents welcomed her as if she lived here. They didn't notice how little time I'd spend in the rest of the house on Saturdays.
I walked in to the kitchen and she was there, eating some toast. Our eyes met and her face lit up with that little look of sadistic glee she reserved just for me. The entrance of her favourite toy, her favourite victim.
"Morning, faggot," she said.
I ignored her. At this point, it had been maybe months since I'd actually spoken to her. I'd managed to stay out of her way all Summer, and even though we'd been back at school for a little while, we didn't share any classes, so I never had to see her. She'd forced me into the life of a recluse just to avoid her at home, seeing as I didn't have any friends I was really close enough to that I could hang out with outside school.
"I said good morning you little twerp, what are you, deaf and ugly?" she said.
A classic insult. Most of these had lost their sting through re-use, but it wasn't so much about what she said any more. It was about her attitude. Her constant, hostile, domineering tone. Her smug arrogance, and condescension.
I was walking over to the fridge to get out the orange juice. I opened it and peered inside, trying to look like I really didn't care about her. And then, on an impulse, I just said,
"Go fuck yourself, Jessica."
It stunned her for a second, but she was quick to recover.
I'd spoken back to her before, obviously, but I could never keep up with her. She was always too quick-witted, too shamelessly unrelenting for me to ever gain any ground.
"Whoa, you got me there, kid, some real original stuff." she said.
She called me "kid" sometimes, even though I was a little older than her. Just another of her many little ways of being condescending to me.
I got out a glass and poured myself some juice.
"But unlike you," she continued, "I don't need to fuck myself; I've got someone to do that for me."
Her boyfriend was an asshole of the highest degree, but he hadn't ever really targeted me specifically. Still, he was muscular and handsome, and if that isn't a good enough reason to hate someone, then I don't know what is.
As I drank my juice, a dozen little half formed insults and comebacks crept into my head, but as usual I didn't have the skill to get them out in time.
"I mean, if you want someone other than your right hand to fuck you for once, I could maybe fix you up with a friend of his. I'll ask him if he knows any other faggots." she said.
As usual, the frustration and unfairness of the situation started to get to me, but I kept it from showing. I slowly finished my drink and made my way across the room to the door. She stood up and moved to intercept me.
"Oh, no clever little comeback this time? Just gonna run way?" she said.
"You know," I said, trying to appear calm, "I do so enjoy these bitchy little chats with you, but I've got something much more fun to do right now. Like stab myself in the face with a pencil."
This was a line I'd been working on for a while.
Again, she seemed a little taken aback. I tried to continue to the door, but she moved completely in my way.
"You should just be grateful a girl as hot as me is even talking to you. It's probably not going to happen again for a long time." she said.
She stared into my eyes, daring me to challenge her. I met her gaze.
It was strange. She'd used the "block the door" trick a lot when we were younger, when she was much taller than me, but now I had the height advantage. I didn't exercise much, and I was slim, but I probably had enough muscle to have the weight advantage too. If it came to a physical struggle, I could probably best her. Force her to the floor, or at the very least push past her. I tried to tell myself this. I tried to force a little confidence in myself.
But this wasn't a physical struggle; it was a psychological one.
And, as always, I was the one that looked away first, staring at the floor to avoid her eyes.
She let out a little laugh.
"See you around, faggot." she said.
She turned and left first, heading towards the living room where my sister was probably watching TV.
I fucking hated her. The years of humiliation and abuse came flashing back to my mind. My heart sped up and my fists clenched. Good God, how I fucking hated that woman. I wanted to smash something, anything. I grabbed a glass from the table and gripped it tight, my knuckles turning white.
I wanted so badly just to throw it to the floor, to see it smash. I wanted to destroy something.
I did what I always do, and repressed it. I took a deep breath and let out a shuddering sigh. I fought my rage back to sleep, and put the glass gently back on the table.
I grabbed some snacks and spent the rest of the day in my room, trying to forget the conversation.
The next time I saw her was a few weeks later, on a Friday night. It had been a while since Jessica had stayed over, but it used to be the norm. Pretty much every week she'd come over for dinner, then stay the night and all of Saturday.
She'd arrived late, it was almost midnight and my parents were already in bed. I'd been sitting in at the kitchen table, on my laptop, when she arrived. I stayed in there for as long as I could, hoping she would leave. When I realised she was staying, I wanted to go straight to my bedroom, avoiding her completely. Only problem was, I'd left my laptop charger in the living room, and my battery was running low. If I wanted to maintain my one link to the internet, I'd have to go where Rose and Jessica were now talking alone.
I couldn't decide.
I approached the door to the living room. It wasn't closed all the way, and I could hear them talking. I didn't want to go in. I didn't even want to see her. I felt the familiar flare of nervousness, shame, and fear that was my constant companion throughout my encounters with Jessica.
I just waited outside the door, chastising myself for my cowardice.
I couldn't help but listen.
"So how come you're not with him tonight?" asked Rose.
"We've just been spending a lot of time together, you know? I mean, every Friday night for weeks now." said Jessica.
They were talking about her boyfriend, I assumed.
"So...you've been fucking, then?" said Rose.
I instantly felt even worse about what I was doing. This was private.
But I really wanted to hear this, suddenly.
"Well, yeah." said Jessica.
"And it...isn't any better?" said Rose.
"No...it's still not...not great." she said.
Whoa, her handsome, popular, 'alpha male' boyfriend was shit in bed?
I couldn't help but smile.
"I think it might be..." she trailed off.
"What?" asked Rose.
"It's kind of embarrassing." she said.
"Come on, seriously, you're not going to tell me?" she said.
Jessica laughed too.
I guessed that they told each other everything, so this was like an in-joke or something.
"OK," said Jessica, "Well basically it's...uh, I don't really know how to say this..."
"Yeah?" said Rose.
"I think he might be...a little bit too small." said Jessica.
"Wow, really?" said Rose.
"Yeah...I think. I just don't, you know, feel a lot from it. I mean, I've never been with anyone else, so I don't really know, but-"
"Wait, wait, how big is he?" asked Rose.
There was a pause.
"Maybe...like...this size?" said Jessica.
She was gesturing, but I couldn't see it.
Rose burst out laughing.
"Oh my God, really?" she said.
Jessica was laughing along a little too.
"Why?" she asked, "Is that not good?"
"Fuck no!" Rose giggled.
I could only assume that this meant that he was hung like a hamster, or something.
"Wait, is that when it's hard?", asked Rose.
"Yeah..." said Jessica.
"Wow, that is...not good."
"So...does it just always feel better if it's bigger?" asked Jessica.
"Yep." said Rose. "Bigger is always better. Some guys, usually tiny ones, say that's a myth, but trust me, bigger is better. Sorry, but it sounds like your boyfriend is just a needle dick."
"Fuck." said Jessica.
There was a pause.
"And I guess it doesn't help that he only lasts two minutes and couldn't find my clit with a GPS." she said.
They started laughing again. I took this opportunity to head up to my room, internet or no. I had some stuff to think about.
"Needle dick." I murmured to myself.
That was interesting.
See, I was a lot of things. I was nerdy, shy, weak willed, socially awkward, and incredibly average in both grades and appearance, but one thing I'd never been was a "needle dick".
Truthfully, I'm hung like a horse.
The last time I'd measured my cock (because, be honest, who hasn't?) it was just over 10 inches long, and about 6.5 inches around.
Everything I'd ever learned about sex, I learned from the internet. I mean yeah, I got the Health Ed class, slide show biology stuff, but I mean real sex. And because, like most teenage boys, I was so...interested in the subject matter, my education was pretty well rounded. I knew all about porn-stars, and how they usually represented the most extreme end of the penis-size scale. I knew that the average was around 5 ½ inches long, and maybe 3 or 4 inches in girth for this part of the world. I knew that there was an ever present debate about whether size actually mattered to women. I'd read reports of women saying that they'd dumped guys for being too small, and of women saying they'd done the same for the opposite reason.
Yeah, I knew a lot about penis size. And I knew I had a pretty huge cock. But it wasn't until that exact moment that I actually considered it something to be confident about. I mean, what good is a big dick if you can't even talk to a girl? And I'd read enough forum entries from women claiming to have been stretched to the point of intense pain to know that bigger doesn't automatically mean better, despite what my sister thought.
When I'd thought about it at all, I'd just considered my abnormal size to be something I'd just have to deal with. A little problem I'd have to worry about if I ever actually got laid.
But now it was an advantage.
This overheard girl-talk was just the beginning.
Over the next few days I thought a lot about what I'd heard. I wanted to use my cock, somehow. I wanted Jessica to know I wasn't the weak little nerd she always made me out to be. I wanted her to know that, at least in this area, I was superior to her boyfriend.
My chance came the next time Jessica stayed over, two weeks later. I didn't try to eavesdrop again, but instead stayed in my room, going over the plan.
My parent's bedroom was actually on the ground floor, and my sister's and mine were at opposite ends of the top floor. When Jessica stayed over, she and Rose shared her bed, even though there was a guest room downstairs too. There was a bathroom between our rooms, complete with bath tub and shower. This was where I would carry out my plan.
I woke up as early as usual, but waited an hour before heading to the bathroom. I knew the girls probably wouldn't be up for a while.
I went in and had a long, hot shower. I spent as long as I could in there, washing my hair over and over again, scrubbing every inch of my body, waiting until I could put the plan into action. We had an electric shower, so I didn't have to worry about wasting the hot water.
After almost an hour, I'd had enough. I got out and stared at myself in the mirror. As always, I thought I looked completely average, except for my cock. It hung thick and limp between my legs, maybe 5 or 6 inches long, still soft. I'm more of a 'show-er' than a 'grower'. When it first started to grow it used to get in the way when I walked, and I worried about people seeing the bulge it made. But I'd switched to boxers over briefs, starting wearing looser pants, and gotten used to it.
I examined it from a few different angles, holding it out and handling my similarly large balls. I guess it did look pretty impressive, if you're into that kind of thing.
I tried to get myself psyched up for the big plan, tried to force a little confidence in myself. I felt good about it.
But it was taking longer than I thought. I tried to kill time by reading the backs of bottles of my sister's conditioner and hand lotion. Why did girls always seem to need so many bottles of crap?
Finally, after a long wait, I heard my sister's bedroom door opening.
Jessica coming to use the bathroom.
I quickly took my stance; completely naked holding my cock in my hand, in full view of the door and pointed towards the toilet bowl.
I was trying to make it look like I was just using the bathroom after a shower. I'd already pissed, it was just about showing it to her. I'd left the door unlocked and open a little, so she wouldn't think anyone was inside.
I started to get more and more nervous as I heard footsteps approach.
I felt my heart freeze in my chest when the handle was pushed down.
In this split second, I realised how incredibly stupid this whole thing would be if it was my sister that walked in, and how stupid I was for not considering this possibility.
I relaxed a little when the door paused after being pushed only slightly, and I heard Jessica yawn.
Here we go.
I looked down at my cock, and tried to look natural.
I heard the door open, and then...
I turned my head slowly.
It was Jessica, wearing nothing but a long t-shirt.
She was staring at my limp cock, her eyes wide. She stood for a few seconds, just staring, not reacting at all.
I broke the silence.
"Uh...do you mind? I'm trying to piss, here."
I shook my cock slightly to illustrate the point.
She gasped suddenly, and met my eye. Her hand went to her mouth in an almost lady-like manner, and she quickly backed out of the room and slammed the door.
I heard my sister's door open, then slam as well.
I let out a huge sigh and let go of my cock, stretching my arms up.
I'd done it. My little exhibition mission was a success. We'll see how much she insulted me now, knowing that my cock was so much bigger than her boyfriend's.
I put my hands on my hips, smiling, and thought about my little victory. I got that size was, like, a measurement of manhood for some people, but I didn't really get it until then. It really felt good to have her look at me like that.