Date: Thu, 20 May 1999 21:51:27 EDT From: Marrauder 390 Subject: Will's Story - Parts 4 - 7 The story that follows is pure fiction. Do not read anything into it. It's make believe: what you see is what you get. The author neither promotes nor agrees with sexual relationships between men and teenage boys. I'm sure that there are characters who resemble those depicted in the story, but any resemblance to persons living or deceased is unintentional coincidence. Any sex acts depicted should not be attempted without proper precautions. You only have one life. If you value it, you will act wisely. If reading or possessing copies of this document violates local, subnational or national laws where you live, please leave now. If you are below the age of consent in your community to read or possess material of this nature, please leave now. If you are offended by homosexual behavior, man/boy, man/teen, or boy/boy relationships, then please do not read any further. The author and this site assume no responsibility for consequences resulting from reading or saving this document. The author reserves all rights to this story. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission. Positive comments and questions may be directed to marrauder390@hotmail.com. The author will neither read nor reply to flames. I try to reply promptly to all positive mail, so if you don't get a reply to a positive comment within a week, then please re-send it, as Hotmail may have lost it. Will's Story IV Nothing else happened between us for about a week and a half, and then Will came to my classroom crying, his math teacher hot on his tail. One of the boys in his math class had been making comments about his messy clothes and unkempt hair. The boy was probably hoping to create an outburst from Will to distract the teacher, as there was a big math test scheduled for that day. Instead of the desired response, Will just fled the room crying. Will's math teacher explained all this to me, and once quickly and once she was sure that he was safe, she hurried back to give the test. I was left alone with Will, who was sobbing pitifully at a table near my desk. When I got up to sit closer to him, he immediately sprang up and wrapped his arms around me. What I noticed immediately was that he was indeed filthy dirty, both his clothes and his body. He really smelled bad too. Not the unwashed - boy smell that is so common in middle schools, but a really dirty, almost sick smell. When he had calmed down a bit, I made a decision. I detached myself, made a phone call, and then led Will down to the gym. On the way, I told him that I had secured the use of the locker room for the next hour and that if he wanted, he could have a shower while I cleaned his clothes. Will looked unsure, and I reminded him that it states quite clearly in his school handbook that the school reserves the right to compel students to bathe and exercise good hygiene. Will still seemed doubtful, and I was wondering if this was going work, when we came across the gym teacher in the hall. The gym teacher was on his way to cafeteria duty, but on seeing Will, stopped to chat. Will likes the coach a lot, and when he found that the coach supported the idea of getting both boy and clothes clean, Will seemed more comfortable with the idea. As soon as the coach had left, Will ran ahead of me to the locker room. From the trail of clothes that I found when I entered, Will must have started shucking clothes as soon as he hit the locker room door. I had planned on having him use the varsity room and showers in the back because it's a little less institutional, and because it's also where the washing machine is. I followed the trail of boy clothes into the class shower area, pausing to pick up his revolting, greyish, tighty whities as I entered. I yelled my idea into the shower area just as he was starting the water, but he didn't seem to care, so I went off to clean the clothes. V I was pleased that the detergent available was still Wisk. I have always liked the scent of Wisk. I washed his clothes quickly and was stuffing them into the dryer when I heard him shut his water off. A few moments later, he came into the carpeted Varsity room with a white school towel wrapped very low around his waist. I immediately noticed with distaste that his hair seemed about half a shade lighter. Isn't hair supposed to be darker when its wet? How dirty had this kid been? Will flopped down on the couch, which caused the towel to loosen considerably. I couldn't believe that the towel could be so low without showing anything, and then I realized that I was looking to see something! I was momentarily flustered and sat down on the couch across from him. He hopped over to sit next to me, and thankfully the towel stayed on. We chatted for a while about school stuff, and I didn't notice how close to me he had crept until he started playing with my tie. It's not uncommon for kids with hyperactivity disorders to be touch oriented. They seem to perceive the world differently than those who don't. Being a person who grew up suffering from some of the symptoms, and also having learned about it in college, I was not too alarmed by this behavior. Nor was I alarmed by his behavior when he abandoned my tie in favor of my hand. We talked a little longer while he played with my hand, and then, thankfully, the dryer shut off. Before I could react, Will bounded off the couch and was at the dryer in a blink. His towel had stayed at the couch, and I was greeted with a view of a perfect little round bubble butt. I had never appreciated boys' bodies before, but looking at Will's butt was most certainly having an effect on me. Will's skin is several shades darker than my pasty white German skin. He's a delicious dusky golden tan even before the sun has done any work on his skin. His round little butt was the same golden tan as the rest of him, and just a little bit redder where he had been sitting on the couch. My eyes were glued to this beautiful boy butt. I sat there transfixed, watching the muscles ripple under the skin as he opened the dryer and rummaged around searching for his underwear. This child was certainly comfortable with his body, which is surprising in an early teen. My eyes stayed glued to his rump as he slowly covered it with his undies, which were now quite warm, but considerably less grey. When the undies had cooled a bit, he quickly finished dressing, looked in the mirror, and then started to cry with heartwrenching sobs. You'd think the world had ended. As he was now quite clean, it didn't take much brainpower to realize that he was upset over his hair. Although he had combed it, it was just a tad too long and shapeless for a boy. I kept my peace until he asked what I could do to help. I told him that I'd make arrangements with a barber of his choice, and that, if he wanted, he could get a haircut on his own. I was a little surprised to find that he used the same barber that I did, which was quite near my new house. At least it would be convenient to leave off the money. VI Will came in the next day wearing the same clothes, but what a difference the haircut had made. He had gotten another of those silly bowl cuts that he used to have, but this time, he had gotten the area under the bowl trimmed quite short, fading off to nothing below his ears. It looked very smart on him, and quite a few of his classmates made positive comments about it. Not a few of the girls must have suddenly realized what a handsome kid he was. I was happy for Will that the haircut seemed to distract his classmates from noticing that his clothes were the same as the day before. Later in the day Will came to me whining about how he wouldn't get any compliments the next day, because he was sure that his classmates would notice that he was still wearing the same clothes. I made a decision at that moment to schedule him out of one of his study halls and into a life skills class. If his mom wasn't going to take care of him, then I guessed that the school should at show him how to do basic things like washing his own clothes. As a temporary measure, I gave him a small gym bag that I used to take things in from my car and told him that I would wash a some of his clothes for him if he would get them after school and bring them back. Will jumped at the idea and then happily settled into some classwork for the remainder of the period, all traces of anxiety gone. Washing Will's clothes that afternoon passed by without event, and in fact it became a regular event for us on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Its amazing how much fun wash day can be when you add a video and some popcorn, or a pizza. Even though it put a burden on my schedule to stay 2 nights a week, each and every week, I didn't mind too much, because the kid was growing on me. I was rapidly becoming fascinated at how much he was changing emotionally, and yes, a part of me was really starting to notice him physically. I had to put that out of my mind however, because 26 year old male teachers just aren't supposed to notice how cute 13 year old boys are. VII The hugs started in December. Quite often, when we were alone in my classroom, usually after I had said or done something that Will decided was nice, he would give me a hug. This too was frowned upon by school rules, but what was I going to do? I guess I had started that game when I hugged him a month before. At least it was easier than getting slugged. I got to enjoy * THAT * treat from some of my eighth graders. As Christmas approached, Will of course became more and more anxious, and seemed to be having difficulties with just about all of his teachers. I decided that decisive action was necessary if he was going to stay on anyone's good side, so I pulled him out of most of his classes for independent study in my room. None of his class teachers objected, as I'm sure that they all disliked him equally. The boy did have a reputation, however unjustified. Will's reaction wasn't what I had expected. I had braced myself for an angry outburst, and perhaps some name calling. Instead, Will just accepted it and did what was asked of him. I was impressed. During this isolation, Will would of course chat with me about whatever was on his mind. Of course, Christmas and Christmas gifts were a big topic. I gathered that he would get some stuff from an aunt and uncle that had taken an interest, and that he would also get some stuff from his grandmother. Granny was good about buying gifts and remembering holidays even if she couldn't find a nice word to say. Some people are like that. The day before we left for Christmas break, I decided that I'd get Will a small gift. He was on my mind a great deal because he was with me for the whole day, and I have to admit that I have a soft spot for hard luck cases. I headed on over to Media Play and despite my better judgement, got him a KORN cd, which he had seemed to want. He mentioned it enough. When I gave it to him the next day, he again started crying. He hadn't given me a gift, and he was really broken up about it. I kept telling him that he didn't have to give me a gift, but he didn't stop crying until I hugged him. School was over shortly after that, and I didn't expect to see Will until January. This of course didn't happen. More coming soon.... Positive comments may be sent to marrauder390@hotmail.com. Flames will be deleted. If I don't reply to your positive comments within a week, please resend, as Hotmail may have lost it.