NOTE: While the characters in this story start off at a young age, no sexual contact of any kind takes place until everyone involved is at least 18-years old.
PART 1: Miss Popular
***
HIGH SCHOOL, FRESHMAN YEAR
Dude, reality bites.
The utopian world of my imagination was soooo much better than this. In my imagination, everything made a logical, mathematical kind of sense. I envisioned a human race where the fact that I was a foot shorter than most of the boys at school was not an insurmountable obstacle. In my universe, intelligence was rewarded with respect from one's peers, not free trips to the bottom of the nearest trash can, courteousy of the local football jock. I swear I still had someone's old yogurt in my hair.
It was only the first day of school, and two trash cans later I had decided to commit seppuku, or some other archaic form of suicide, as soon as I got home. My backpack must have weighed more than I did, and I could feel my spine bending out of shape already. I would look like Quasimodo by the end of the school term.
I missed my old school already. I had always lived nearby to the local public schools, but my parents had put me through a private school during my formative years. It was only now, in High School, that my dad had seen fit to move me to a public school. It would build character and give me a chance to develop my social skills, he had said.
He never told me exactly HOW I would develop social skills, however. I had a bowl-haircut because my mom thought it a waste of money to take me to a hairdresser when she could do the job herself. My glasses were big, fat, and hideous. I wasn't an ugly kid, by any means. But given a start like that, I might as well actually BE as disfigured as Quasimodo, too.
I sat on a bench by the parking lot, my feet swinging in the air as they did not quite reach the ground. I waited for my carpool classmates and my mom's minivan to arrive, my hyperactive mind already finding new things to occupy itself. Plotting out the most minute detail in my head, I believed that I had found the proper technique for killing myself. But that's when she walked by.
Glittering, bright blue eyes. Silky, shimmering dark hair. Elfin, dainty face. Perfect smile filled with rows of pearly-white teeth. I'd like to say that these were the first things I noticed about her, but they weren't.
To be certain, she possessed all of these amazing attributes, but my eyes had glued onto her FABULOUS breasts.
I wasn't familiar enough with girls to determine cup size, but they seemed pretty damn big on her petite frame. She wore some tight, quarter-sleeved top with a scooped neck to show off those round, perky globes of heaven that gave every male within a hundred yards an instant woody. And as my vision expanded to the people she was with, I nearly passed out from sensory overload. She was walking with a group of upperclassmen cheerleaders, decked out from head to toe in perky school colors. Well, head to ass, I guess, since their skirts really didn't go down very far.
My mouth dropped open, thoughts of suicide quickly vanishing from my mind as I realized my purpose in life. How could I even think of leaving this world when such heavenly creatures attended my school?
Oh, did I mention that my previous private school had been all-male?
"Hey, Jason! Wake up!"
Crap. Was this nothing but a dream? Oh, but to stay asleep forever and dream such wonderful dreams, to have this angel with me for all eternity.
"Dude, you're gonna drool all over yourself."
"Huh?" I turned my head, tearing myself away from the vision before me. My best friend Marcus was waving his hands in front of my eyes, snapping his fingers to get me to come around.
"Man, one would think you'd never seen a girl before."
I looked back at her departing form, her skintight jeans hugging her every curve as she sashayed down the sidewalk, oblivious to my very existence. "That's no girl. She's all woman."
Marcus gaze followed my own. "That's Amanda. She was in a couple of my classes the last few years, but man did she grow up over the summer." His eyes gazing appreciatively at the females, he clapped me on the shoulder and said, "Welcome to public school."
***
The rest of my freshman year passed by relatively smoothly. Over time, the school bullies found new prey to pick on, although Todd Beckman did saran-wrap me to the flagpole in January.