Steve Grogan is an ongoing contributor to Writer to Writers. He has published several short stories on the site, which can be found on the main page under the heading “Steve Grogan’s Fiction.” He has had several poems and short stories published over the years, some of which are available on Amazon. (See the announcement at the end of this post.)
He is the writer and creator of the ongoing, zombie, post-apocalyptic, Romero-meets-Dungeons-and-Dragons webcomic REDemption. Alternatively, Steve describes the comic by saying, “It is to zombie fiction what KILL BILL was to kung fu movies: everything I love about the genre housed under one roof and mixed with my voice.”
September 23, 2008
A few weeks later I got a one-bedroom apartment on Fifth Avenue in Troy. (This couldn’t have happened at a better time because Value Scripts had just granted my request to work from home.) I would have to wait a while before I got all the furniture I needed, but I filled the place with items on my personal list of “necessities” right away: a couch, a couple lamps, a recliner, a television, a DVD player, and of course a bed.
The stage was all set. Finally, Stacy could come over for that night of passion we’d been holding out for.
When Stacy arrived, she threw herself at me as soon as I opened the door. (There was no need for romance or setting the mood. We’d both been waiting too long for this.) Somehow, even though our faces were locked together, we managed to navigate our way to the bedroom without tripping. Once we were there, our burning passion exploded into unrestrained frenzy. Hands and mouths explored every exposed surface. Buttons popped open. Zippers unclenched their teeth. My boner pressed painfully against my boxers. Still, when Stacy’s hand reached for it, I guided her away.
“Let me do something for you first,” I whispered.
“If you say so, sport,” she panted.
By now she was totally naked. I had the lights off, but it seemed like the room was illuminated by the splendor of her bare curves. (Well, that and the light from a street lamp that fell through the bedroom window.) My tongue traveled down her body, lingering on each nipple for a while before moving down her center, circling the navel for what seemed like an eternity before I decided to finally dive down to the treasure below.
I’d been waiting for this forever, and I’d studied up on what to do. There was none of the usual virginal clumsiness. My fingers and tongue worked her over as if they had minds of their own, switching up the tempo and force until I thought the woman writhing beneath me would fly apart. Then I felt a massive tremor pass through Stacy’s body. She lifted her hips into my face repeatedly as the waves of pleasure crashed down upon her nerve endings.
I couldn’t tell if I should stop until Stacy collapsed on the bed. Her breath came in short gasps. She reached down to move my hands and face away.
“That’s enough. Thanks,” she panted.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yeah, things are just a little overly sensitive right now,” she explained. “Give me a minute to recover.”
It took a while for Stacy’s breathing to return to normal. Once it did, she sat up, and her eyes immediately went to the bulge in my boxers.
“Stand up and show me what’s in there,” Stacy said.
Before I go on, let me say something here: sometimes it’s amazing how fast your life can change direction. As I waited for Stacy to get her breathing under control, I was king of the world. It took me five seconds to get out of bed and follow her command. And in those five seconds, I suddenly felt like Icarus plummeting to Earth.
My boxers hit the floor, and I heard a noise come out of Stacy that I couldn’t quite place at first. Maybe my auditory nerves were trying to save my ego from harm, because my initial impression was that it sounded like a stifled sneeze, but unfortunately, I wasn’t offered this protection for very long because I had to be honest with myself and identify the sound for what it was.
It was a chuckle.
And what could there possibly be in our immediate environment that she could be laughing at? What was different from the way things were mere seconds ago?
That answer came easily enough: my boxers were around my ankles. Put two and two together, and any fool would realize she was laughing at the size of my cock.
My head started spinning. Stacy had held out for me not just once but twice. It had been six months before we even entered a bedroom together. And this was how it was going to turn out? Not only was I being mocked by a beautiful girl, but this was the first time I had been with any woman. Fuck six months; I’d just waited twenty years to be humiliated! Well, I’d be goddamned if I wasn’t going to say something.
“Did you just laugh?” I asked.
In the dim streetlight glow I saw Stacy’s cheeks turn red with embarrassment. I wanted to scream at her, “That’s right. You just got busted, bitch!” But I held back.
“No, I just coughed,” she said half-heartedly.
“Bullshit,” I said. “That was a fucking laugh.”
Sensations from my lower body let me know my ego wasn’t the only thing dwindling. I quickly pulled up my boxers. If the length of my erection made her chuckle, she’d probably burst into wail-like laughter once I was completely soft. And the last thing my ego needed was another beating.
I had no idea what to do. There I stood before the woman I had grown to love. And this was how she repaid me. Now what?
An idea quickly popped into my head. There was something I could say that would devastate her. And if it didn’t right now, maybe it would on the day this cruel bitch grew a conscience.
“You know, I’ve seen other guys in the shower when I was in school. I’ve known for a long time I wasn’t the biggest guy in the world, but I also thought it wouldn’t matter if I found the right woman, one that loved me no matter how big or small I was,” I said. “I thought that woman was you.”
I barreled on, cutting the bitch off and delivering the killing blow.
“You may have waited six months, but I waited twenty years. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? Do you know what I just admitted, without me having to utter that goddamn dreaded ‘V’ word?” I screamed. “Well, all I can say is…so much for hoping my first time would be special.”
Her jaw hit the floor. Yeah, read ‘em and weep, you whore. How does it feel to know you just crushed the soul of a virgin?
“First time?” she muttered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to feel self-conscious or freak out about it,” I said. “Now I feel like an asshole for caring about how you felt.”
As if she had only just become aware of her nakedness, Stacy pulled a blanket over her body while still trying to plead her case.
“You should have told me you were a virgin,” she said.
“What difference would it have made?” I snapped.
“A huge difference!” Stacy shouted.
Now it was my turn to show amusement, but this was no meager little chuckle like hers. It was a full-blown roar of laughter.
“They key word there is ‘huge,’ right? In other words, what I’m not. Because if I were huge, this bullshit wouldn’t have happened,” I said.
Stacy came over to me (the blanket still shielding her body) and put her hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.
“Don’t call me any more pet names, please,” I said. “In fact, don’t call me anything. Just get dressed and get the fuck out of here.”
At first, Stacy didn’t think I really wanted her to leave. She thought it was just my anger speaking. Whatever the case, a couple more repetitions of my order made her realize I wasn’t changing my mind.
While Stacy gathered up her clothes, I went to the living room and flipped on the television. Luckily it was still early in the evening. We hadn’t entered the infomercial time zone yet, so there were plenty of programs that could distract me from my rage.
Twenty minutes later when Stacy came out of the bedroom, standing there about ten feet away from me. In my peripheral vision, I could see her staring at me. Was she going to break the silence, or did she expect me to? Because if it was the latter, then she might as well leave. I’d be damned if I would ever say another word to her from now on. The passage of her days and nights would never again be interrupted by the sound of my voice.
Stacy hung around for a lot longer than I thought possible. She stood there for about five minutes, basking in the cold glow of my indifference. When she finally left, I remember being impressed by the fact that she didn’t slam the door on her way out.
I heard her car start up outside. Once the sound of her engine faded, I turned off the television but made no effort to get up. Just sat there in the dark. The nonjudgmental dark. My body, mind, and soul all felt numb. What Stacy had done was certainly hurtful but, aside from kicking her out, I hadn’t reacted to it yet.
That all changed when I got up to use the bathroom. There I stood with the urine streaming out of me like it had so many times before, except this was the first time after Stacy’s insult. When I was done, I stood there looking down at my cock. My hilariously small prick. Damn my lousy genetics, I thought. Why the fuck did life have to curse me with a small wiener?
I went to the sink and washed my hands. Then my gaze drifted up to the mirror. At some point, tears had started flowing down my cheeks. When did that happen? And why hadn’t I noticed? Jesus, this bitch had me all fucked up!
Drying my eyes, I took another look at myself. I couldn’t believe what was reflected. In the last couple hours, I had aged somewhere between ten to fifteen years.
“Goddamn you and your baby cock,” I said to my reflection. “I wish it were bigger. Or smaller. Yeah, so small that I would be too embarrassed to show it to anyone and wouldn’t have to go through such humiliation. Hey, how about no cock at all? What’s the point in having one if all it does is make women laugh! Why couldn’t I have one that’s so big that it rips women in two? Maybe then it’d be big enough for all women…even that bitch Stacy!”
Before I even knew what had come over me, I punched the bathroom mirror. With the blood came more tears, but not from the physical pain. I could deal with the shards of glass cutting into my skin. That was easy to tolerate. These tears came from the fact that I realized how hopeless my situation was. After all, I was done growing. This was the size my cock was going to be until the day I died. There was nothing I could do about it.
When my tears stopped, I ran my hand under some cold water. With all the blood washed away, I saw the damage wasn’t too bad. One big Band-Aid, some gauze, and a little tape were all it needed to be good as new again.
After that, my next stop was the bedroom. Given the fact that I could still smell Stacy in the room (she always had a scent of the finest perfume), I didn’t think I would be able to get any rest in there, but I still gave it a shot. I was amazed at how easily I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
If you like what you have read and would like to purchase this serialized novel as one complete PDF, then please send $3.50 to Steve via PayPal: firstname.lastname@example.org
Also, don’t forget to check out his other writing at the following links below:
Author: Redemption Comics
Steve Grogan was born in the often-filmed city of Troy, NY. He has written in a variety of formats (novels, short stories, poems, screen and stage plays, blogs/articles) and genres (horror, science fiction, fantasy, mystery, drama).
Steve is also a father, a boyfriend, a musician, a fitness fanatic, and a martial artist. He has been studying Wing Chun Kung Fu since 1995, and he maintains a blog/YouTube channel that describe his training habits, epiphanies, and advancement. It also candidly discusses his stumbling blocks, such as his struggle with nutrition and mental health issues.
He is no relation to the New England Patriots quarterback from the 1980’s.