woMan Up (frerard)

Chapter 1

I moaned as I kissed my girlfriend roughly, pulling her body tight against mine. Jamia's phone rang and she pulled away.

"Fuck, I've gotta go home," she muttered.

We sighed and moved to the front seat of my car. The windows were fogged up from the heavy breathing between us and I wiped them down. I drove her home and she smiled, giving me a kiss.

"Alright, I'm off now," she said. "I'll call you later."

She gave me a kiss before walking off. Jamia and I have been dating for just over a month now. Although we weren't near the love phase yet things seemed to be going pretty good. She was sweet but just spunky enough to have something about her that intrigued me.

I drove over to my friend Pete's house, going down to his basement. He smiled when he saw me and put down his XBox controller.

"Hey, man, what's up?" He asked.

"Not much," I mumbled, grabbing a second controller before I sat on the other side of the couch.

"You fucking your girl?" He asked.

"We got interrupted," I said.

"How is she in bed?" Pete asked.

"I think that's private," I said.

"Come on, stop being a fucking pansy all the time," he complained. "Does she take it up the ass?"

"Pete, oh my god," I muttered.

"Oh my god, oh my god!" Pete mocked in a high pitched voice.

I kicked him and he just chuckled.

"Alright, let's just play now then," I said. "No more talking about my girlfriend."

"You've always got such a stick up your ass," he said

I didn't say anything as he started up Left 4 Dead. There was always something different about me and the rest of the guys, I always felt different. I always felt as though I didn't really belong there with them but either way I still hung out with them because I was supposed to. I didn't wanna be like the one gay kid at my school who was just a social outcast that no one really liked.

"I don't have a stick up my ass," I denied. "I'm just not fucking immature like you."

"Whatever, Frank," He said.

I scowled softly at the use of my name.

We just killed zombies together until i had to go home. I went up to my bathroom and turned on the shower. When I stripped down I avoided looking in the mirror. I just hated my body. I don't really know how to put it into words, it just wasn't right. And my distaste for my body was masked by my trying to make it better by covering it up in tattoos.

"Frank! Don't keep that shower running like you always do!" My dad shouted.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I remember when I went through puberty and every single second of it was awful. Every other guy was excited for facial hair and deeper voices and bigger dicks. I don't know why but I just wasn't looked forward to it, I dreaded it. And when "the wonders of the changes of my body" ended, I hated myself even more.

It grew to the point where I was unhappy, I was so unhappy. It just wasn't right, nothing in my life ever felt right. And when my mother passed away, I almost took my own life. I hated being alive and I hated being in my body and not being able to just be happy. I was never really myself and I just didn't even really wanna live anymore.

I didn't spend much time in the shower before I was just laying in bed in sweatpants and a hoodie. I scrolled through my phone before getting up to do homework. I sat at my desk for a little while before I went downstairs. My dad was outside at the grill.