The Training of Jeff Stintum Ch. 04

Chapter 4: A Change of Residence

Amid odd phantasmagorias of color and clashing cacophonies of sound, Jeff awoke. His heart was beating rapidly and he realized he was soaked in sweat. He couldn't recall the last time he had awoken from an actual dream. For years now, he had gone to bed drunk or high, and usually some combination of the two. He realized, lying on his mattress and staring straight up at his cobwebbed ceiling, that he actually hadn't had anything to drink or smoke yesterday. 'Excellent,' he thought immediately, 'No qualms about drinking today!' He cheerily kept looking at the ceiling as he planned out exactly how he was going to get wasted, and where he'd go for the best chance at maybe meeting a hot chick to talk up. He thought back a little and remembered a some new beats he had come up with a few weeks ago. Yeah, those were pretty tight.

"Drummers always get the hot chicks," he said out loud to the ceiling. He smiled to himself, feeling pretty optimistic about the day's outlook. About this time he turned his attention to the massive erection he was sporting. He looked down his chest at his underwear, which bulged out tremendously. He flexed his erection a few times, enjoying how it strained the underwear fabric. He finally reached down a finger and freed his dick, allowing it to bounce around stiffly until it stood still, tall and proud at full mast.

Jeff loved looking at his dick. He loved flexing and relaxing, and letting his big purple head mushroom bigger and bigger with each flex. He didn't need to stroke himself to get hard — all he needed to do was look at himself and that was enough. At just over 9 inches and impressively thick, Jeff's dick was definitely his most physically impressive attribute. Years back, when he was playing music more regularly and when he was having a lot more sex, he had several girls tell him that they had never seen anyone bigger. He remembered their looks of awe, how their eyes almost misted over, how they had choked and gagged down on him, trying hard to be the first to deepthroat him. None of them ever succeeded, Jeff was often proud to recall.

He reached down and grabbed his erection with both hands and squeezed, enjoying how this made him look even larger. He suddenly noticed, with his arms outstretched, the marked contrast between the size of each arm and the size of his penis. Could it be? Was his dick...bigger than his arm? He sat up, pointed his dick forward with his left hand, and held his right forearm up next to it. His penis wasn't just bigger than his arm: it was almost comical how much his arm was dwarfed. It was at least twice as wide, and many times thicker.

Jeff sat there staring at the contrast, almost not believing it. A strange feeling was beginning to seethe in his loins, and he was surprised to see himself grow even longer and thicker. He was getting turned on, very turned on, in a new way. Something about seeing the contrast, the hugeness of his member next to the tininess, the puniness of his arm, made him feel...it made him feel that something was somehow not right. That something unnatural was happening, and was almost irresistible, something that was inevitably coming on and would not be denied.

And then he suddenly thought of Sarah's arms. He hadn't even thought of his encounter with her yesterday until now, and all his confusion and disorientation came flooding back and mixed with this strange feeling intensifying within him. His dick grew larger still. He looked immediately to the hair tie on his nightstand, and without thinking reached over and snatched it up, breathing hard. Would it fit around his cock? It had fit tightly around Sarah's wrist...

His heart beat even quicker as he tentatively held it up to his mushrooming head and then began pushing it over. It went over his head, but he did have to push it a little bit, and then once it got past the head it fell down to about a quarter down his length, where it stopped. Jeff caught his breath, and began to push it down farther. At his most wide, about 3/4th's of the way to the base, the hair tie had to stretch a little bit — Jeff pulled it and let it go to see if it would snap, and it didn't; it remained relatively flaccid around his dick's thickest part, even though his thickness definitely filled the hair tie's space. Jeff almost gasped in arousal as he realized that even though his dick was big, Sarah's wrists were bigger. How puny had his own arms looked next to his erection, which now looked bigger than ever? What were these feelings? His hands began to pump his length from its base, as if he were in a trance.

A crash interrupted his reverie, and Jeff jerked his hands off his dick like he had been burned. A few more crashes followed, coming from John's bedroom. It was John, bumbling around in the morning. Probably still tripping. Jeff shook his head, wondering why he kept his roommate around, and felt superior to him. 'John's got to get his shit together,' he mumbled to himself, and he looked down at his erection, with the hair tie around it. Jeff was filled with disgust and ripped the hair tie off and threw it in the corner of his room among his papers. What had he been doing? What the fuck was all this shit? Was this because he was dreaming last night? It was probably just from the after-effects of being in a hospital. God knows what those hospital and pharmaceutical execs were pumping into the air. Those money-gouging schemers, who owned all the medical patents, who had all the control, who were just trying to make a buck off you. Poor Sarah, she had gotten conned by them — well, it was just a natural part of growing up. Maybe she'd see reason someday and stop being part of the system. Maybe he'd even write her a friendly email about it, offering some much-needed advice.

Anyway, he was still hard. Time for some actual porn, he thought happily. His mindset switched so seamlessly, such was his lack of self-awareness. It was enough that he did not wish to know or explore that which he found uncomfortable or undesirable — he could simply not think about it, and that was enough for him to proceed merrily along. One time recently a girl even called him "clueless" when he was flirting unsuccessfully with her. He knew, though, that she couldn't handle his confidence, a man who knew what he wanted, so of course she had said "clueless" rather than what she had meant to say, which was "confident." Clearly she couldn't handle him.

That's what Jeff was getting off to these days. Girls who couldn't handle big men. "Big" here meant "big penis," and as far as Jeff was concerned, the two were the same. He quickly splayed open his laptop and went straight to piracy website, searching "big dick small ass." He liked to find the big white dicks (so he could pretend the dick was his) banging chicks who didn't have much ass, and who were moaning in pseudo-pain as they were being fucked. Never in the ass, though. That was just gross. Why would anyone want anything to do with an asshole? In any case, he was pleased that he seemed to be into what everyone else was into. There were literally millions of videos of nice big cocks fucking nice tight little dripping pussies. He remembered how Cassie once complained about how most porn was so boring, and how hard it was to find stuff she liked. He chuckled to himself as he pumped his dick, watching a just-turned-18 girl get her pussy banged by a thick white cock. 'Well, if Cassie gave into her more natural urges and wasn't such a stubborn freak,' he thought, 'then maybe she'd have a little easier time of it.' It didn't take him long to have his morning orgasm; ten minutes later he was on the way to the fridge for his late-morning breakfast of Miller High Life and a Slim Jim. It was going to be a good day.

As the next days passed, Jeff went about his usual routine without even thinking about his hip x-ray. Sure, he still limped around, and sure, it hurt, but a little pinched nerve wasn't going to stop him from doing what he wanted. He drank a lot of cheap beer, smoked a lot of weed (sometimes with Dave, although Dave had started moving his stuff out), and sometimes picked up his drumsticks and tried out some new beats on his rubber drum pad. He was even reading a great new book, called 87 Lies Of The Brave New World: What They're Not Telling You About The Moon Landings, 9/11, The Federal Reserve, And Everything Else. This book was getting him excited about starting an activist group that could meet in secret and discuss various ways to undermine all the bad forces controlling society. So far, he hadn't organized everything, but he would, right after he finished this book...

As the days turned into a couple weeks, however, Jeff noticed that although he wasn't thinking about his hip or the x-ray results, he couldn't stop thinking about Sarah Helleger. It was starting to really irritate him, how she would randomly pop up in his head at weird times. But he was starting to notice it more and more. It began with just remembering her gorgeous, smiling face, and how wonderful she had looked and sounded. He couldn't help but be blown away by what she had grown into. But even with this seemingly innocent recollection of Sarah, Jeff felt perplexed and uneasy. There was something sinister that seemed to lurk in the feelings she inspired. He tried to just think of her as that little girl on the block, with her little bicycle, and feel something like fatherly or brotherly affection for her becoming an adult. But this didn't work, because the apprehensive, amorphous, and slightly sickening feeling only intensified when he thought about how, in only ten years, she had blossomed, developed, and flourished from what she was then to what she was now. He thought about how gentle and how effortlessly adult she looked, and how she had bent down to look him in the face and hand him her number. Why all this fixation on her appearance, on her demeanor? On how grown up she looked?

Jeff's discomfort grew and grew each passing day, because his usual strategy for ignoring things he did not like to think about wasn't working. But he loved thinking about Sarah — she was so pretty and doing a great job because of how he helped raise her...but that was not the way he was thinking about her. He was thinking about her big, long hands and fingers on her hips, how tall she was compared to him, her imposing breasts, her grown-up scent, and her expressionless glance across his body after she learned that he weighed 113.1 pounds. He was thinking of how small she made him feel, and about how, despite the fact that he was 7 years older, she was much, much taller and bigger everywhere on her body than he was.

'Everywhere except the dick,' he tried to reassure himself. Even that didn't work this time. And much to his displeasure, he would think about Sarah right after he noticed little things in the world. One day, in the self-check-out line at the grocery store, he had to show his ID to a store employee. The employee came up: she was short and petite, of Indian ancestry, and she was cute. Jeff was thinking of something witty to get her interested in him before he noticed her ass and hips squeezed into her employee pants, leading down to her thighs, which also fit into her pants skin-tight. Jeff was seized with panic as he realized, as he knew, that he could never fit into those pants like that. They would probably fall down around his waist. 'Anything else, sir?' came her amused voice, and Jeff turned and took his ID back, unable to meet her eye contact. He had gone home downcast that day, helplessly thinking about how Sarah had filled out her work outfit.

He was noticing these kinds of comparisons more and more, and they were stressing him out. They made him feel small and weak. He knew he wasn't small and weak. He was just preparing to do great things. So many people, he thought, had to be shunned by society, had to live in the shadows for a time, in order to truly achieve greatness.

And yet he couldn't help but notice, again and again, and more with each passing day, how big so many women were compared to him. Not fat...just big. He was sure the fat ones were so many more times his size it wasn't even worth counting. But just regular women, mothers, young women, even teenagers and sometimes younger, started looking big to Jeff in ways he had never really appreciated. A young woman in the parking lot who couldn't have been older than 20: Jeff had glanced at her legs and noticed how shapely, firm, and muscular they looked in the sun. A mother of two, about his age, in line in front of him with her kids at the pharmacy: Jeff had ventured a look at her and noticed one of her arms as she held up her young son. Thick cords of veins, muscles, and tendons bulged in her undeniably strong arm as her large hand with long powerful fingers steadied her infant son's legs. He couldn't even be around Cassie anymore without fixating on her tattooed arms. Of course she noticed and couldn't avoid flexing her forearms at Jeff, and then licking her lips and flicking her tongue at him when he saw her teasing him.

The worst part about all these things was that they were totally out of Jeff's control — he was utterly powerless to stop these feelings when they started, and, perhaps most troublingly, they always led back to Sarah. What had she done to him? What was happening to his mind? It was almost as if something wicked had hijacked his psyche and opened a portal into some kind of permanent mental torture. Jeff tried to fight these distressing feelings in two ways. The first was to give himself pep talks about how much of a man he was. Yes, he was small, sure, in all the ways that didn't count — he had a bigger dick than pretty much any guy who thought he was tough stuff. But who's better at making girls happy, huh? Besides, plenty of small men did great things. He even went so far as to look up famous great men, and was happy to discover that his own height was shared by Napoleon Bonaparte and Winston Churchill. All he knew was that Napoleon was French and Churchill was English...all that really mattered was that they were 5'6 and "great." Hell, even these guys named "Mussolini" and "Alexander the Great" were 5'6, and they were all pretty great, apparently. Jeff laughed as he thought about the dick length of this "Alexander the Great" being something like 16 inches. 'History can be fun,' he thought as he exited out of his search, having learned all he needed to know. His mirth, however, did not last long.

The other way (by far the more effective) he fought these encroaching feelings was to get even more wasted than usual. Generally he would get drunk almost every night, and then smoke some weed, and then eventually pass out on his mattress. These days, however, with these weird phantom thoughts swirling around his head about Sarah and feeling small and overwhelmed, he really had to take it up another notch. He would start drinking heavily in the morning and not really let up until he simply couldn't drink anymore. He began finding John better and better company, since they would both often just sit and silently stare at things in the room. As these kinds of days stacked up, Jeff was truly beginning to lose it. He was constantly drunk, tottering around the house in his underwear, occasionally wetting himself. He awoke one morning to the sound of Cassie tugging her last suitcase down the hallway. He was splayed out on the floor in the living room, in a puddle of his own piss, with a smelly brown stain on the butt of his loose-fitting underwear. He looked indistinctly up at Cassie as she carefully, and literally, stepped over him on her way out the door. He had caught a look of disgust in her eyes, and she had even brought her free hand up to pinch her nose closed as she walked over his prostrate form. 'Well, best of luck to you, Jeff,' she had said ironically, and turned to leave. Jeff watched the two pillars of her thighs move in her jeans, and weakly watched her ass jiggle and dance its goodbye before she shut the door. He went immediately to his room and masturbated to Cassie's body before he passed out.

Later that afternoon, in a hungover haze, he woke up and decided on a whim to check his email. Jeff didn't check email much, because there wasn't anything he was involved in. He hadn't checked it in two weeks, since...he froze. Since he wrote that note to the Hellegers! He fumbled at his laptop even faster to see what Sarah's parents had said to him...about Sarah. He opened his email and began to quickly scan his new messages, mostly from advertisers. However, one subject line caught his eye immediately: BAU HOSPITAL X-RAY RESULTS. Jeff quickly clicked on this link, thinking nonchalantly that he'd have a look. In reality he was prolonging the excitement for the Hellegers' email. He went through the "Patient Portal" and was met with this message:

Mr. Jeff Stintam:

An x-ray of your right hip showed the presence of significant osteonecrosis, otherwise known as avascular necrosis, on the femur head. This condition can be severe, especially when it progresses to the fourth and final stage, as it has in your case. Continued wear on the joint could further damage the femur head and lead to complete bone collapse and arthritis. We recommend prompt Total Hip Replacement surgery, since treatments which involve stem cells and core decompression have not been found to be effective after Stage 3. We are not sure what exactly has caused this condition in you, but risk factors include bone fractures and dislocations in the past, alcoholism, and the use of high-dose steroids.

Please contact the hospital as soon as possible to schedule your surgery.

All the best, BAU Orthopedics

Jeff read the email a few times, feeling dazed. He had to get his hip replaced?? This couldn't be right. And a bunch of words he couldn't understand for good measure. It had to be bullshit, he decided. He closed down the hospital's email and went looking for the Hellegers'. His heart jumped as he saw it, sent 13 days before. Those Hellegers were always on top of it, weren't they? Jeff chuckled as he opened this email:

Dear Jeff, How wonderful to hear from you! What a lovely happenstance that you ran into Sarah at her work. Nothing too bad brought you to the hospital, we hope?!

Anyway, I'm sure Sarah took good care of you. She has grown up, hasn't she?? She's taller than both of us now; it's incredible. She was a late bloomer too. She was tiny little Sarah up until she was 16, and then boom, she just kept growing and growing!

We really could not be more proud of her these days. She's working at the hospital, and she's a consulting researcher for several of the medical journals in the city. She's young, but she's already gained a lot of respect in many circles, and she's even published a coupled of articles with other people! Haha, we know it's obnoxious to brag about our daughter, but it's just so hard not to!

We'd love to see you when the holidays roll around! Sarah keeps on coming back here, even though she's got her own place now. She worked all through high school and college and saved up, because she knew what she wanted! A space of her own! We don't even help her with any bills anymore. She's got it all covered!

Well anyway, Jeff, enough about Sarah. How are you doing these days? Still playing drums? You were always so nice to Sarah growing up — I'm sure she loved seeing you again. Thanks so much for contacting us, and we hope to see you sometime soon.

Love, Jan (and Chris of course, but Jan wrote the email!)

Jeff stared at the screen, his thoughts completely blank. Gradually, after a few minutes, everything came back into focus. Sarah had...her own place? Did she...OWN it?? She was totally on her own?? She was truly an adult. She had two, maybe three or four jobs? She paid for everything. Jeff had no job. He paid for nothing. His parents paid for everything. Her body...the contrast was too much to handle, and he went for his only option: whiskey.