The Swim Team Ch. 02

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CHAPTER 2

INTO THE LOOKING-GLASS

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The morning woods were the worst. A capricious while of unmanageable rigidity that had turned weekday mornings and the breakfast table into humiliation. But of all the involuntary erections Gabrielle endured, the Sunday morning morning woods were the best.

Because it had permanently excused her from church. And thus for the only hours allowed to be unproductive in the house, she could finally let go and enjoy her fourteen inches.

It was a ritual of its own: opening the blinds and lazing in bed to marvel at the morning glory, so inflexible even an orgasm couldn't fix it; or two; or five.

She loved the feel of being hard just as much as cumming, and she loved gazing at her beautiful cock, the complex colors, the veins, the testicles moving about, the slight and not so slight throbbing of her shaft, how soft it looked, how softer her glans looked. And above all, how damn big she was.

She liked to whisper it out loud. Sometimes going, "It's so big," sometimes, "I've such a huge cock," alternating between narcissism and dissociation. A paradox allowed by the recency of her strange life.

Even the muffled sounds of the house waking up beyond her door could not make her go flaccid. Muffled sounds made by Sophia.

Oh shoot, Sof... Gabrielle remembered a few seconds after opening her eyes, before she could do any of this. Indeed her sister was home, as she had claimed the right to be a non-churchgoer too the day she learned Gabrielle was.

"Why do we go to church anyway? It's boring," had she said.

"You just answered your own question," the mother had replied, old enough to remember it was almost a line from The Simpsons, and also old enough to know Sophia was too young to get it.

Anyway, the parents had admitted that their two girls were old enough to go their own way and now the Sunday morning morning wood shrank before Gabrielle's eyes.

She caught me masturbating just after watching that film so next time we're watching a film again she'll think about me masturbating again and she'll be grossed out she'll think about it wherever she looks, the couch, the blanket, the popcorn, her phone, the movies, she'll blame the movies and their bad influence, she'll blame herself she'll think she's a bad influence, that maybe that's why I grew a penis it's because she let me watch Fight Club when I was twelve and it messed me up and next time we watch something it will be one long awkward silence and then she won't watch movies with me anymore and on and on went the paranoid string of logic, until Gabrielle had gone completely soft and sat up in her bed and her pelvic floor ejected some leftover cum from last night out of her shaft.

And as she would find out, for someone like her it resulted in her shorts looking like she peed herself. A huge spot which already was seeping to her shirt--

"No, no, nooo..."

--and while in better circumstances she would have welcomed the quantity with pride, all she could do was roll up her shirt and pinch the wet, cold, heavy fabric off her skin.

She broke down and started weeping.

The bizarre treasure of delicious joys that was given to her a year ago was laden with burdens and duds. Growing a penis practically overnight meant she would never have real privacy in her life. It was nothing like regular visits to a gynecologist. She was to be watched over and checked, her sexuality and lack thereof permanently exposed to her family, whether she and they liked it or not. Even after she would leave home. As long as they would worry. And they always would, they loved her. And Gabrielle hated it. No one would want this kind of attention. She even hated the well-meaning support. All she wanted was normality within her abnormality. Men don't have penis-related conversations with their parents. They don't walk around the house pitching a tent freely because everybody pretends it's a condition. They don't put a pair of pants that screams I was horny last night in the laundry basket and get away with only a sympathetic smile (tainted with dread) from mom.

Men, boys, they hide, they discover by themselves. They often feel alone, sometimes monstrous even, but the bizarre treasure is their own in the end, so they could then share it with someone. Someone they choose.

Gabrielle would never have that. Instead she took her shorts off.

Tears added a little more salt on it.

She put them under her bed to let them dry off.

*****

Adding wetting her clothes to her list of life problems wasn't what she really cared about. Gabrielle was used to the incessant worrying and all the little tricks to keep her condition to herself. At the moment she was scared about last night, when her sexuality had been exposed, like an open chest. It had sprayed so much light it exposed Sophia's own sexuality. What they both saw last night was that they were once and for all adults. No more stunting it. No more postponing it. Sexual adults wanting more from sex than just swooning in front of a TV screen. It could mean the end of movie night and that was the scary part. Gabrielle didn't want to lose this last precious moment with her sister. Sophia had less and less time to dedicate to her, it seemed. Even if getting her own place was a topic that had still yet to turn up, she was more and more either at work, giving her all coaching the college's swim team, or she was locked in her room all day.

She was probably in there right now, doing whatever that required such isolation and concentration, haunted by the vision of her little sister firehosing slime around with her giant cock.

Gabrielle facepalmed at the thought.

She always went for the worst-case scenario, easily forgetting that in reality Sophia always had a sort of subtlety with the penile situation, defusing it with raunchy humor, always bringing a smile out of her, out of them both. She simply knew banter was the sincerest form of love. But everybody had limits and last night they were pulverized by a flow of bodily fluids.

In a startling leap full of aggravation, Gabrielle cleared these thoughts away and stood out of bed. She was supposed to have lunch with Lily today.

Like a bottomless ninja, she opened the door just enough to have a tactical peering of the hallway and, once cleared, she dashed to the bathroom very stealthily.

This door locked, she trudged about, taking her top off, feeling no enjoyment in her nudity, snubbing the full-length mirror and the tub and stepped into the small shower stall where the safety of the walls had never failed to still any anxiety surrounding her mind.

Under the steamy hot water, she tried to wash away the unwellness, the shame, the anger, anything she could find. She only discovered that dried cum was a very persistent substance and needed a good scrubbing to get it off her chest, chin and crotch. In fact it was like water was reactivating it, turned the thin layer of crust back to liquid state. And furthermore, hot water made it kind of cook. Like...egg white? It was thickening and whitening into small beads which stuck to her skin and her pubes.

Omelette du sperme.

There, first smile of the day. Followed by a chuckle when Gabrielle realized she was taking her morning shower with a flaccid penis for the first time.

These things were so unpredictable. So complicated. Yet again men would probably think the same of vaginas. But she'd give that to them: a dick was a lot like life. It's often hard but never boring. At least her vagina had some cyclicality. And it's less...in your face, for lack of a better word. She smiled again.

Beneath this shriveled worm she hated to love, she also noticed her testicles were bigger than usual. And her heart started to beat a little faster because it knew the reason why: there was semen in there. There for good.

Gabrielle cupped them resentfully. Sunlight passed on the big mirror across the room, flashing through the frosted glass door... But she knew how it felt being horny and anxious at the same time. She knew it all too well. So she let go of the heavy sack and began washing her hair.

Eyes closed, her heart could slow down. Lots of hair to take care of.

Conditioner today.

Sophia this morning.

A talk. The talk with her.

Eff my life.

Something churned inside of her testicles.

"What the--" She rinsed her hair as fast as possible and when she could open her eyes, her balls had swelled so big she had unconsciously opened her thighs.

I hope it's not a growth spurt, she thought, secretly hoping it was.

The hairless skin looked taut, overstretched. She reached out her hand and there was this churning again, tingly, almost like a stomach growling. She curled her fingers around her scrotum, trying to understand what was going on, trying to emulate Dr. Emmerson checking her up, and then putting more and more pressure until she was massaging the two glands inside.

They were so full.

And it felt...good?

So good.

A sensual thrill startled her. All the more because her penis was still completely soft. And baseline numb. She stopped and froze before the rush could get to it and go over the edge and turn into climax, but too late:

In her taint, a plain and sinewy spasm she did not feel coming made her leak watery cum onto the shower pan. Gripping the pipe on the wall, she fought against a few other twitches inside her while a little more semen dripped down her wobbly legs.

She stood there, taken aback. All the mechanisms she thought she knew well enough had gone into motion by themselves. She scanned through the many talks with Emmerson. Peeing cum from a ball massage had never been mentioned.

The closest thing Gabrielle could think of was premature ejaculation.

Cumming in five seconds.

Cumming against your will.

Hands-free.

She had cum on her toes.

She was getting hard.

"I NEED THE BATHROOM!" Sophia screamed through the door.

Are you kidding me? Gabrielle thought, not at all amused by the running gag.

"GAB I'M SERIOUS, I NEED THE SHOWER NOW, I'M ALREADY LATE!" And she banged the door like a SWAT team.

"I'm not done."

"I DON'T CARE JUST LET ME IN PLEEEEASE! NOOOW!!"

Gabrielle had never allowed anyone with her in the bathroom, ever. But after what happened last night, perhaps it was not the right time for acting up.

"I SWEAR I'M GONNA KILL YOU! COME ON, LET ME IIIIIN! I'LL USE THE TUB!"

It took a tense moment of silence and of descending erection before a disheartened "Ok..." came out of the stall.

"Don't open before I tell you," Gabrielle added.

She came out to open the bolt. And as soon as she was told to, an underwear-clad Sophia stormed in and jumped into the tub, paying no attention to nude Gabrielle hiding in the shower, barely hearing her timid "Don't look." Without any hesitation, she removed her panties and engaged the body shaving procedure she was here for, unbothered that her sister could make it out through the frosted glass.

Gabrielle could definitely see everything and it was stunning, enough to make her forget to cover her genitals with her hands.

Only for a moment. Sophia always looks away, so don't peep now, you creep, she told herself.

The guilt won over and she turned the other way to proceed with her shower.

Probably the same guilt got conditioner in her eyes, leaving her in darkness, with a little sting. When she could see again, Sophia was standing, one foot resting on the edge of the tub, both her hands busy shaving the barely visible shade on her mons.

Gabrielle asked for a towel, which was thrown to her carelessly but promptly, and she dried herself inside the shower, while hypnotized by the blurry silhouette. She had seen Sophia naked before, but it was long ago... Seeing her now, right here, was nothing like it; or nothing like catching her in her underwear, nothing like seeing her in a one piece at a swimming competition. Like every little sister she had always thought her older sister was gorgeous. And unlike her, Sophia had grown into such a beautiful woman: tall, lean and tight; shapes in the right places; carefully tan skin that went so well with her blond hair, unreal green eyes; the broad shoulders of a competitive swimmer but the longest legs she had ever seen on a human being, calves and thighs chiseled to flawlessness; and breasts that were a nice 32D from what she had read on the tags.

Everything Gabrielle didn't have.

"I'll never understand how you could stop doing this," Sophia said, aware she was being stared at. "So uncivilized."

Gabrielle blushed but nonetheless responded, "I like my hair. I don't wanna shave it."

"OK zoomer... So anyway um..." Her voice slowed down to a total absence of sarcasm. "I apologize, I didn't know you'd take your shower so early. And... also um... There's this smell again...like from last night, you know? Gab, you do whatever but you should be careful, mom and dad would totally freak out if they smelled it, they'd take you to the vet to have you some more tests. All that shit."

No response came from the stall. So Sophia added, "Seriously, maybe you can't smell it cause it's your own, but it's very strong. And I know from experience it leaves these big white stains on your clothes, like it's a nightmare to wash. Like one time I had to tell mom it was yogurt."

Beyond the surprise Gabrielle half-snickered, half-frowned. "Gross!"

"Haha I unfroze you. Look, I'm sorry. It's just as awkward for me to talk about this but if I can spare you some drama... Like us last night. I was just taken by surprise you know, like, I couldn't use my usual tact. The one that doesn't make you feel like a fucking freak."

Gabrielle wished Sophia could see her smile behind the frosted glass.

"Speaking of tact..." Sophia got down on all fours in the tub and grunted, "I know it's not very ladylike but I don't have time to play around."

It took several seconds for Gabrielle to understand she was now skillfully shaving her buttcrack. She looked at the whole thing like some dangerous stunt.

When Sophia got back up, rinsed, lotioned-up and silky-smooth, she said, "Just don't tell mom and dad, okay?"

"That you shave? Pretty sure they know."

"That I shave for my boyfriend."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Short hesitation from the other side of the glass.

"Because... I guess because I'm an idiot."

"Is it serious? How long have you been dating?"

"No. Can we--"

"Is it what you wanted to tell me last night?"

"N-no. Can we talk ab--"

"Can I meet him?"

"No! I gotta go now. Just shave your butt if you want a boyfriend so bad."

"I don't need to shave," Gabrielle finally let out.

"Wait what?"

"Yea, when my...stuff appeared, all my hair just fell off. I'll always be hairless from the neck down," she half-lied, somehow reticent about her patch of pubes.

"Lucky," Sophia said mostly for herself. "That's one point for the radioactive spider theory." She walked to the stall door covered with condensation and drew a smiley face for her little sister who was still standing in there wrapped in her towel, waiting.

"I really was in a hurry. It won't happen again," the big sister said, softly. "I'm leaving now. If they ask, I left the house at 10:30, alright?"

"That's ridiculous, but ok."

"And next Saturday we're watching Blade Runner since you like Ryan Gosling so much."

"Haw-haw-haw."

"Seeya, bible bitch."

Sophia dashed out of the bathroom like another bottomless ninja, and that was it. The weight had lifted off Gabrielle's neck.

The awkward silence left in the bathroom was all hers to enjoy this time. The inner voice had shut up.

Water dripped down the showerhead.

Maybe Ryan could come back.

The house's front door shut. Gabrielle looked at the time: 9:46am. A nice chill grasped her stomach. She was home alone for at least an hour.

All the things she needed to process were put on hold as blood was rushing from her brain to her dick.

The Sunday morning morning wood was coming back in all its glory.

*****

She slid the glass door open and slowly, she walked up to her reflection in the full-length mirror. She dropped her towel along the way.

While puberty had done its deed, Gabriel had always adequately called it an half-assed job. (And that was even before fate put a very special cherry on top of it.) Her body was nowhere near Sophia's heights. Gabrielle was petite. Short. Quite shapeless. And flat.

Of course, one side of herself liked her cute A-cup boobs, but the other side thought they were part of the problem.

She never had any real confidence about her looks. She would have never believed that more than a few kids in her class had looked at her with something other than puzzlement. Despite the slight age gap, so huge in twelfth grade, despite the depressing clothes, despite the aloofness, despite herself, the school outcast was strikingly pretty. Her jet-black hair contrasted with her pale skin; her hazel eyes danced with the freckles on her nose; and when she smiled sometimes, she could cure the gloom in those looking.

But she had no idea. Her penis was the focal point of her body, how could she imagine anyone looking anywhere else? Right now it was rock hard, the tip swelling so much it was pulling the foreskin back over its crown. How could she look anywhere else?

Standing in front of her reflection, if not proud at least comfortable, she said, "One," and started jerking off vigorously with both hands.

Her enormous balls slapped her thighs.

How many first times was it now? First ejaculation, first time swallowing, first premature ejaculation... She had lost count.

She was alone, she could do anything she wanted. She knew it. The nice chill had anticipated it. And the point was to let it happen naturally. So she had to overcome nervousness.

Gabrielle tried to relax. Her hands slowed down and stroked her length like a lover, patiently, tenderly. It was a matter of letting go.

Her nerves gave her body some leeway. Really she would have to leave a thumbs-up on these YouTube yoga videos someday.

She wondered if she should open her mouth.

No. Naturally, I said.

Imperceptibly, as always, an enveloping focus rewarded the work of her hands. It became less willed, self-propelled almost, less her hands and arms and more her loins and brain.

She closed her eyes, ready. She twisted her hands on her penis to trigger a voluptuous flash inside, along, and felt her moans would come out the way they should. And it was rare enough, no suppressed sighs, no hand over her mouth, no biting the pillow, as her lips opened naturally. She heard herself. This specific texture of voice only pleasure can modulate. Masturbation was complete. And it--her mostly shy voice going through the filter of sex--sounded downright naughty.

She wanted to hear it again.

"Ooooh--"

No.

Bit too forced.

Gabrielle focalized back on her cock, looking at herself in the mirror.

She summoned a wave of pleasure and watched her face follow. Long twitch of lust. And she moaned again, savored it.

She did it once more.

And again.

She even tried words.

"It feels so good."

With varying success. Words weren't always her own.

But in the end she knew all these vocalizations were mere previews compared to cumming hard and loud. So let's do this.

Deliberately withdrawn from the intense sensations of her looming orgasm, she threw all her attention on her looming ejaculation, the first she would see in broad daylight. The first with balls this size.