My newly discovered shorts fetish occurred just a few weeks before my eighth grade in school. The school in town to which we rural kids were bussed handled grades seven through twelve in a single building. There were about seven hundred students in a facility that was designed to handle probably four hundred. Things were crowded and as a result when I was in seventh grade we did not have gym classes even though the law required it.

Our gym was a combination gym and auditorium, about half filled with fixed seating that featured flip up arm rests with writing surfaces, which was pressed into use as a large study hall throughout most of the day. As a result the gym classes during the winter when they were held inside had an unwelcome audience which only added to the shame and disgrace the gym class brought to the pubescent boys who were forced to expose their often un manly legs in public. During seventh grade when I was in that study hall I had observed the older boys romping around in their short shorts; but I hadn't paid any particular attention at the time other than to realize the following year my chalky white legs would be similarly exposed for all to view. This wasn't the case with the girls in the study hall who were continually making comments about the various kids physiques, cute legs, athletic ineptitude, etc. Now this year as an eighth grader I would get a chance to participate down on the gym floor with the other boys and undergo physical reviews by bunches of giggling study hall girls.

Because of my new found interest in short pants that had suddenly become such a sexual object of affection for me, as school approached, I was very concerned as to whether I might experience undue stimulation as a result of being in close proximity to other bare legged boys wearing shorts. Or whether the fact that I was also so attired might induce abnormal sexual desires. I would soon get to find out.

My first scheduled gym class was the second day of school. We all piled into the gym and sat in the front row seats while Mr. Mack the gym instructor who was an ex WW2 marine and had played college football gave us the gym rules and regulations like we were a bunch of fresh recruits. Because many families were not well to do financially the school provided gym uniforms for both the boys and the girls. We had to supply our own sneakers, however. As a result the boys would each be issued a white and green pair of gym shorts and tee shirts which we must be wearing along with approved sneakers in order to attend class and not get marked as an non excused absence. Since just remembering it was a gym day and having our uniform with us was too easy, there was the added requirement that you have the proper color. Now logic would say that there would be green days and white days. Too simple. There were five gym classes during a given two week period, three on one week and two on the second. The plan was to try to force even wear of our four garments and presumably reasonably frequent washings. So the regimen was: white shorts, green "T", white shorts white "T", green shorts white "T", green shorts green "T", etc. The demands this placed on the school students to remember and figure out this added color requirement pushed gym class near the top of the difficult subject list.

After Mr. Mack's rapid fire presentation we were ushered into the boys locker room where we were told to strip off everything except our underpants, shoes, and socks. We formed a line and the instructor started handing out the gym uniforms from several boxes on the table. He selected the size by eye balling each kid. I discovered we weren't still wearing our underpants out of his concern for our modesty (although I really appreciated it because I am not well endowed) but because it allowed him to discern which kids needed an athletic supporter because they were wearing boxer shorts and which were already wearing jockey style underpants that would serve the purpose. Because I wore Jockey under shorts I didn't get one of the skimpy straps so I did not have to bare all as we quickly donned our crisp white gym pants and green tee shirts for our first class.

Not only was our school overcrowded; but the only lockers in the place were in the boys and girls gym locker rooms and they were intended to just provide a place to stash your school clothes during gym class. At the end of the class because of time constraints most of the guys just left their gym uniforms on, sweat and all, and put their school clothes on over top. We were of course told in no uncertain terms that showers after class were mandatory; but the reality was that for every kid to get a single pass under one of the four shower heads wasn't logistically feasible and still enable them to get to the following class on time. Also for many of the rural kids this was the only opportunity they had to wash up, and most of them needed it, with actual running water and they made the most of it, hogging up the shower heads. Like most of the others when the class was over I just dressed over the white gym outfit I had on and carried the green gym uniforms back to my home classroom. Once there I stuck them under the lid on the desk I had been assigned where I was also to keep my books for the various classes. In those days no one thought about taking anything that belonged to someone else, which was good, because there was no way to secure any of your stuff.

I couldn't wait to get home with my new gym outfits. I was carrying the green set along with the books I needed to study that night. Everyone else on the buss, except the few kids that were in seventh grade, had their yearly allotment of gym uniforms in hand as well. I hopped off the buss with Dave and Mike at the intersection where the hotel, blouse mill, and general store were located and ran the thousand feet or so to the house.

I rushed up to my bed room and quickly pulled off my school clothes exposing my new brief attire. I retrieved a couple of my penny airship balloons, blew them up, and started rubbing myself in all the right places. The gym teacher had handed me medium sized shorts and large tee shirts because I had pretty broad shoulders. I could have gotten by with small gym pants because the pair I was wearing were plenty loose in the seat and legs. I had no trouble sticking the tubular balloons up the legs of the shorts and over the cheeks of my ass. That felt real good especially when I sat down on the edge of my bed causing the balloons to squash under the back of my thighs.

At this point I decided it would feel even better if I wasn't wearing my Jockey underpants, so I took them off and just put the gym shorts on. Umm, umm, good! Definitely better. I soon wound up sitting on the bed with the balloons and my legs competing for space inside the thin white shorts. I wiggled and rolled around a bit and soon the balloons popped. Then I knew it was about time for me to pop as well so I lay face down on the bed as per my custom and scrubbed my tool on the inside of the shorts. As I was about to squirt I quickly reached down with my right hand and caught my juice so it wouldn't wet and stain my new pants. From that point on the gym shorts became the standard attire for my nightly bedroom masturbation sessions.

About February I noticed that my night time gym use of my gym shorts was beginning to become noticeable. Because of the added wear from my dick rubbing the thin cotton the green shorts were beginning to shown a fade spot and the front area of both pairs appeared thinner and more limp than the rest of the garment. Because the school provided the gym outfits there was no place in town to buy additional pairs; and in any case they probably wouldn't have had our school logo on the left leg. I was afraid to ask the gym instructor if I could buy additional shorts because he certainly would want to know why. So until the end of the year, I had to restrict their use to the balloon fore play period of my fetish sessions only and don my regular under shorts for the climatic endings.

None of the boys in school wanted the two pair they had let alone any additional ones, since they would never consider wearing them at home even inside their houses. Someone might see their pretty legs and make negative comments. I soon discovered that most couldn't wait to destroy or get rid of them after the last day they were required for gym class that year.

I am not adept at athletic sports and it was a humiliating and degrading year. What made it worse was the gym teacher, who also coached the football and basketball teams (the only intramural sports we had), kept making comments in front of the other guys about my pretty legs and how he couldn't wait until the following year when he could get his hands on me for the football squad. It wasn't long before I discovered the girls thought I looked cute in my short shorts as well and I had to put up with a lot of comments from time to time from them in my classes as well.

Finally we reached the end of the school year and the next to the last gym class rolled around. When the class was over and we were quickly donning our school clothes I noticed that at least half of the guys were tossing their gym shorts and even some of their tee shirts into a large fifty five gallon trash drum that was used as a receptacle for the paper towels from the wash room. The shorts were all green because it was a green shorts white tee day. On our last gym class day it would be filled with white shorts. Most of the guys, I noticed, did keep their tee shirts. Mn would I have loved to have gotten my hands on a fist full of the sweaty shorts but I had no place to stash them even if I could find a way to get them undetected up to my home room desk. There was little doubt they were just going to be tossed or destroyed and I was sure nobody would care if I took a few. The problem was if any of the other boys saw me swipe them or caught me wearing shorts with other kids names on them it would have been utterly humiliating.

The last gym class I had for the year, two days later, was the next to the last period of the school day. As we dressed I noticed the drum was completely full which indicated that it probably hadn't been emptied for a day or two. I hoped this meant that it had both white and green shorts in it. The thought of all those sexy cotton gym shorts just going up in flames or being used for grease rags was more than I could tolerate so I took a terrible risk and hung around the locker room until after everyone else had left. I had brought a bag from the supermarket with me that day and I thought I knew a place in the basement under the auditorium where I would be able to hide a couple of handfuls of the shorts until the end of the school day one hour later. At that time I would only have about five minutes to get the bag, retrieve the shorts, and get on my buss; but I thought I had a chance to pull it off and my aching balls demanded that I risk it.

I was just about to pull the hinged lid off the trash drum when in walked the gym instructor. He naturally wanted to know why I wasn't out of there and at my last class, which it turned out was just only a study hall in the auditorium directly overhead. I was so intent on my mission that I just blurted out, "I was wondering if any body would care if I took home some of the gym shorts the guys have been throwing away to wear this summer?"

He just beamed as he replied, "You actually like to wear shorts don't you? Aren't afraid you will get your legs all skinned up like the rest of the sissies in school."

Mr. Mack walked over to the drum and grabbed a fistful of the sweaty cotton as he continued, "Here, take all you want. They are only going to get thrown out anyway. Pull out what you want and I'll see if I can find something for you to put them in to take them home."

Mr. Mack quickly came back with a good sized corrugated box that would easily hold nearly a hundred shorts and tee shirts. I quickly stuffed it full of white and green gym clothing. I didn't even look to se if I was grabbing shorts or tees and I didn't take any time to select sizes. I soon had the box nearly full. He then told me to put the box in his office which was nearby in the basement of the building and I could pick it up as I left for my buss.

When I was dismissed from the last class I ran down, grabbed the box from the gym instructors office and hot footed it out to my waiting buss. I was trying to figure out what to tell Dave and Mike when they would be sure to ask what was in the box. I certainly didn't want any one to know I loved to wear shorts, especially why, and here I was with a box that probably had close to six dozen pair of used gym shorts in it. Dave was in eighth grade and taking the agricultural courses. As a result his gym periods were not the same as mine; but if he had tossed his gym outfit in the trash like many of the boys had I would have bet a dollar I was probably toting his gym outfit around. I would soon find out as soon as I got home because every pair of shorts was emblazoned with the owner's last name in the space under the school logo on the left leg.

I got on the buss and sat near the back because the boys and I were the next to last to get off. When they spotted the box and did ask I told them the box contained some science fair project material. Fortunately they bought my explanation, so I wasn't pressed for a show and tell. We finally got to our intersection and I lugged my treasure home. When I got up to my room I stripped to the gym outfit I had been wearing that day and proceeded to do a triage on the contents of the box; one pile- fits now, one pile- fits when I'm bigger, one pile- too small, burn 'em.

Although I could comfortably still wear size small shorts and medium tees, I consigned them and anything smaller to the burn pile. I still wound up with the burn pile being the smallest. There were at least three dozen size medium shorts and probably a dozen or so large tee shirts. Between the large and extra large shorts there were probably close to four dozen pair along with perhaps two and a half dozen or so larger size tee shirts. I had more whites than greens because the green uniforms were from the previous days classes and were in the bottom half of the trash barrel.

I didn't know what to do with all the ware now / ware later stuff so I just kept out a few of the medium white and green shorts and a half dozen large tee shirts and hid the rest way back in a far corner of the attic over my room. The next week I would be home for summer vacation and I would have a chance to run all of my new found treasure through our wringer washer because they all bore the heavy scent of boyhood sweat. The burn pile I hid out in our barn where I could easily get to them when I felt the urge to get myself sexed up watching flames rip through them. I was somehow half hoping I could get my buddies Dave and Mike into wearing shorts, and the small size shorts and medium tee shirts would fit them nicely.

Wearing the tee shirts I had salvaged wouldn't be any problem because they didn't have any names on them. Most all boys went around wearing tee shirts in the summer. The shorts were a different story. Because they all had other school kids names on them I would be dead meat if anyone, even my dad, were to catch me wearing them. Even if I explained how I came by them it would not have been a good scene because boys my age just didn't wear shorts of any kind; period! They especially didn't run around out doors wearing gym shorts even if they were their own and did have their name on them. So I was resigned to vigilantly keeping my abnormal love for my abbreviated pants secret.

When I completed hiding my bonanza of gym outfits I relieved myself without involving any balloons. My thoughts were sufficiently filled with all the fun I knew I would have romping around in the woods in all of these nice soft, well washed, gym shorts. When I was done and the euphoria drained away I suddenly realized that there really wasn't any way in the world dad wouldn't sooner or later find out about the other shorts I had rescued. I couldn't fathom the gym teacher, Mr. Mack who knew my father well, not mentioning what a brave lad I was wanting to wear shorts for the summer. I knew he talked to my father from time to time because dad had told me that he had mentioned how much he appreciated my strong legs and that I would be a real asset to the football team when I reached ninth grade.

I decided I would have no problem wearing at least the gym shorts with my name on them around the house, especially the two days a week that I mowed the lawn. Our lawn was a major factor in developing my strong legs because it took nearly twelve hours with our eighteen inch sweat powered push mower to complete the task. The perspiration would just pour off me and I hated the damp heavy pant legs of my jeans that just clung to my sweaty legs as I worked. However, I was concerned about the fear of rejection from my only local buddies, Dave and Mike. I knew that they would have unkind remarks and probably would want to do a number on my pristine bare legs. But the coolness and freedom wearing the gym pants would provide plus the thought that I really looked forward to my legs getting toughened up at the hands of my buddies made wearing them a priority.

As we entered summer in 1949 the weather had been warmer and wetter than usual and our lawn was enjoying the conditions immensely to the extent that I had to mow it at least every fourth day; otherwise it would get too high. In which case I would have a devil of a job pushing the mower through the grass; the drive wheel would just slide. Near the end of June dad noticed that the lawn needed mowing again. It was forecast to be a really hot clammy day and as he brought this fact to my attention he asked me why I didn't wear any of the gym shorts I had because they would have to be cooler and more comfortable than the previous years school pants that I was wearing. Oh boy, the fat was in the fire for sure. I wouldn't have to provide any explanation for my wearing skimpy pants; however I didn't know how to answer him because of the way he phrased it. I suddenly felt certain he was aware of all the extra shorts I had salvaged from school. If he asked about them I couldn't tell him I was afraid to wear them where my buddies and other adults could see me wearing the other kids shorts, otherwise why would I have asked the gym instructor if I could have additional shorts that had been thrown out. The only safe thing I could say was, "That sounds like a cool idea. You don't mind me wearing gym shorts outside then?"

He replied, "Not at all. I think you will look good in shorts and wearing them will get your legs tanned and toughened up; however, I don't want you running around off of the property wearing just gym shorts because they are a little too short and revealing for a boy your age to be wearing in public. If you aren't afraid to wear shorts we should be able to get you a couple of pair of camp shorts in town that you can wear over to your friend's house and down in the woods. No I don't have any problem with you wearing shorts. You should have said something and we could have stopped at the department store last week and picked up a few pair when we went into the city." (We had gone to pick up carnival supplies for the local civic association carnival which was held yearly in late June).

I had mixed emotions as I responded, "No problem Dad. Wearing gym shorts will be great when I am mowing."

I did have a problem even with that, however. Dave and Mike came over to the house nearly every day. What would they say and do when they saw me clad in the thin cotton short shorts we had worn in gym class? Even if I mowed like crazy to finish up quickly and ran inside and changed into a pair of long play pants, sooner or later they would show up early before I was done and catch me bare legged. Also my father would soon wonder why I had changed into "longies" and hadn't continued to wear shorts for the rest of the day.

Dad and my step mom had left for work so I could have just slipped on the jeans I had worn the previous day. I was sure dad would ask if wearing the gym shorts made my chore any more comfortable. If I lied about having worn them he would probably soon find out that I hadn't from our neighbors who were certain to take note of a teen age boy frolicking in little boy's play clothes. I was certain they would be only too anxious to let him know what a brave boy he had that would buck the style trend of the day; and if such comments weren't forthcoming he would probably ask. Then he definitely would want to know what I found so fascinating about a garment I refused to wear except when I was hiding in  the house or deep down in the woods.

I went back up to my room and donned the pair of white shorts with my name on them and went out and started to mow. I didn't have long to wait. I was only about an hour into my task when the boys showed up. Dave didn't say anything at first. His younger brother Mike thought I looked cute. I told them since it was such a hot muggy day I wanted to wear something that was as cool and comfortable as possible. I challenged Dave to run home and put his gym outfit on. I didn't know whether he had thrown his away or not; his name wasn't on any of the shorts I had salvaged. I didn't really believe him when he said that he was using them to sleep in and he didn't want to get them all sweaty and messed up playing in them. He made it clear that in any case only little kids wore shorts outside. So I asked him what that was supposed to mean and he replied, "You look like a sissy little kid with your bare legs sticking out."

I shot back, "Dave, you and Mike are the sissies. I'm not afraid to get my legs dirty and skinned up like you guys are."

That did it. They both jumped me and wrestled me to the ground. My legs and my nice white gym shorts got ground into the freshly cut grass and were both soon well stained from the mud and grass. I was surprised that I didn't get sexually aroused even with them grabbing my bare legs because I really enjoyed their hands pressing my leg flesh. It soon became obvious that their real intent was to bust the skin on my knees open so I would bleed a bit.

The skin on my legs that had led a sheltered for so many years succumbed fairly quickly to the rough play and little trickles of bright red appeared along with the green and black smudges that coated my knee caps. This finally satisfied the boys and they stopped beating up on me. I was amazed that the thin cotton shorts hadn't gotten ripped. Normally I would have been angered by their attack but this time I really enjoyed our tussle and was proud of my dirty skinned up legs.

I suggested again that they should consider wearing shorts for the summer but they said they would rather die first. I wore the dirty white shorts all day and dad was impressed when he saw my condition upon arrival home. He suggested I should exercise more to get myself in better physical shape so I wouldn't have to take any guff from the boys or any other of my friends.

I still felt very self conscious when I had the shorts on so I limited their use to lawn mowing days only. The prohibition against wearing them away from the property also restricted how much I could wear them because nearly every day I was off somewhere with the boys. Naturally I didn't let this affect my wearing them in secret when I was alone deep down in the woods where I felt I was safe from other eyes. I also began using the gym shorts to sleep in. This necessitated the use of some of the other shorts I had rescued from the trash barrel in the boys locker room at school. My step mom asked about the other boys names that were on them when I first donned a pair, so I told her right out that they were just being thrown out and the gym instructor told me to take a handful home to wear during the summer. Dad didn't question the salvaged shorts at all so that confirmed my suspicion that he already knew all about them, probably within a day or two after I had brought them home. I was glad that I had started to wear them openly around the house so he wouldn't have any suspicions as to why I had salvaged so many and what I really enjoyed doing with them. Rev. Date 4/03
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