Tommy and Kyle were still pretty excited about Kyle's pushup performance when they walked to math class. Tommy couldn't help bragging about it to Brian, somewhat to Kyle's embarrassment, but Brian was sincerely impressed. “Really, forty? Cool! Way to go, Kyle!” he said, giving Kyle a friendly high-five. As they entered through the door at the back of the room, a girl looked up at them. She stared at Tommy for a moment with an odd expression on her face, opened her mouth as though to say something, then closed it again with a frown, and looked away.

“What do you think that was all about?” Brian said as he and Kyle took their seats. Tommy put his books down on his desk, but did not sit down. He looked back at the girl. It was Cassie, the same girl he'd talked to before class on Tuesday.

“I don't know”, he murmured. “I think I'll find out.” From their conversation earlier in the week, Tommy knew Cassie was not at all silly; in fact, she was really quite thoughtful, and so he was curious to hear what she had to say. He sat down next to her. “Just a second ago, you looked like you wanted to say something,” Tommy said, leaning towards her and smiling encouragingly. “I'd like to hear what it is.”

“It's just that I heard,” Cassie began, then stopped, and looked down, embarrassed. “Oh, never mind, it's just too stupid! I shouldn't have said anything.” She looked up at Tommy very seriously. “It's just that if anything happened, I'd never … oh, I'm being so silly, this is ridiculous! Never mind, it's nothing. Really!” She managed a weak smile.

Tommy started to get up. “Well, if you're sure you don't want to talk about it …” he said.

Cassie smiled at him with more certainty and nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “I'm sure.” As Tommy gave a little shrug and turned towards his own seat, she spoke up again. “Tommy?” It was the first time she'd called him by name, and he turned in surprise. “Just be careful, OK? That's all.”

“Did you find out what she wanted?” Kyle asked, concern clouding his usually cheerful face.

“I guess it was nothing,” Tommy said with a shrug. “It was like she wanted to warn me about something, but then she changed her mind.”

Kyle's smile returned, and he gave Tommy's arm a little squeeze. “I guess she remembered that Tommy is invincible!” he said, just as the bell rang to start class

A couple of hours later at lunch, in a fairly deserted area outside the school cafeteria, three football players and a skinny junior with an unpleasant face held a quiet conversation. “Do you think she'll be able to get him over there this afternoon?” Simon asked.

“Yeah,” said Mouse with a frown. “Shit, who'd have guessed that the little faggot would be so hot for her? He probably fucks anything that moves, maybe dogs too or something.” This provoked some barking and laughter from his two friends. “Anyway, she's sure she can have him at my place this afternoon.”

“This afternoon would be good,” nodded Chuck. “The question is, is this shit going to work? And do you have the cuffs and everything else?” He looked at Simon, simultaneously hating the fact that he had to deal with this dweeb, and grudgingly admiring his resourcefulness.

“If she gets him to drink it, it'll work alright,” Simon nodded. “And I'll have a backup in case he doesn't drink it. And yeah, cuffs, all that stuff, it'll be there.”

Mouse snorted. “Where did you get all this shit,” he asked Simon with undisguised contempt. “Did pixies bring it?”

“Pixies?” laughed Rocky “What the fuck is a pixie?”

Mouse looked levelly at Simon. “Well, I should say that a pixie is a close relative of a fairy,” he said, watching Simon closely. “Have I enlightened you?”

To his credit, perhaps, Simon met Mouse's gaze without blenching, and only replied, “Nothing supernatural; you can find amazing stuff on eBay for some of it. And a few friends owed me favors for the rest. Look, let's hook up right after school, and if it's a go, we can be all set up by about four o'clock.” The jocks all nodded, and Simon watched them go back to their friends, his eagerness for the fulfillment of his revenge on Tommy now matched by his anxiety to end his association with these oxen as quickly as possible.

The third day of the lab demonstration in Mr. Wesson's class was a little more complicated than the other two, and Tasha was frustrated that there was little opportunity to touch Tommy, aside from a brief touch on his forearms near the beginning of the session, as his powerful hands ground the sample down with the mortar and pestle. Her next opportunity was not until near the end of the experiment, as Tommy was writing down the results and calculating the conclusion. Tasha slipped her hand under his shirt to stroke his abs again. Tommy flashed her a brief smile and continued to write. Slowly, her hand slid down his abs and into the top of his jeans. In another moment, her fingers touched what they sought — it wasn't difficult to find! — as Tommy looked up, both startled and pleased.

Tommy hesitated, unsure as to whether he should tell Tasha to stop, when an authoritative throat-clearing decided the matter for him. “I hope there isn't a problem here?” Mr. Wesson asked. He felt that his obligation to Simon not to interfere in this budding relationship had been more than satisfied by now. There is only so much a teacher can tolerate in a classroom, he decided. Tommy blushed slightly as Tasha drew her hand back quickly and started writing hastily in her own lab book.

“We're fine, just wrapping up,” Tommy said with his most ingratiating smile. Mr. Wesson nodded. With a knowing look, he reminded them, “See that it stays wrapped up, then,” and walked along to the next lab bench.

This was the right moment, and Tasha knew it. She put a slip of paper with an address on it into Tommy's hand. Bringing her face very close to Tommy's, not quite close enough to kiss, she quietly told him, “If you want to continue our ‘experiment’, I'll be home at four. My mom'll be home, but just go back to the garage behind the house.” She paused, then added with a smile, “It's soundproof.”

Tommy considered his schedule for less than a second. “Four will be perfect,” he said, just as the bell rang.

The garage behind Mouse's house was indeed soundproofed. A couple of years ago, three of the guys on the team had decided to form a garage band; Mouse's parents had had the soundproofing put up as a form of self-defense, and to placate more than one irate neighbor. Of course, the band had broken up after only a few months, but Mouse still used it as a private den. It had a large storage closet with mirrored doors, and it was in this closet that four teenagers, three large and one small, hid, watching out the slightly-open doors, when Tommy knocked at the garage door at precisely four o'clock in the afternoon.

Tasha opened the door. She was wearing a denim miniskirt, and a red single buttoned top that showed both her cleavage and bare midriff to their best advantage. It was Mouse's favorite outfit, and he had started to become angry about her wearing it “for that worthless faggot,” when she reminded him that she would be wearing it for him when this business was finished. Tommy too had showered and changed clothes, and was wearing a light jacket, open to reveal his snug open-necked shirt, and a tight pair of jeans. He had splashed on a bit of fragrance that Kyle had bought him for Christmas; in fact, it was Kyle who had suggested he wear it. Both teenagers looked each other up and down, just taking in the view for a moment. Tasha reached out and held Tommy's upper arm lightly, drawing him into the room as he shut the door behind himself. His eyes followed her; he barely noticed the room around him, let alone the eyes peering from the mirrored closet at one wall.

Tommy watched her to see if she was going to take the lead, but unexpectedly she went over to a short refrigerator against one wall and pulled out a blender jar with a pinkish liquid in it. “I made a strawberry protein shake for you,” she said with a smile. “Fresh strawberries, too.”

Tommy was not particularly interested in the drink — he almost never drank such things himself, preferring to stick with what he called ‘real food’ — and politely declined. “Well, thanks, but maybe later,” he said with a gentle smile, looking straight into her eyes as he guided her hand to put down the blender jar.

It has been said that when a male is in heat, his higher-order brain functions shut down; but that it is when a woman is interested in a man that she is at her most calculating and cunning. Of course, it is men who say this. However that may be, Tasha knew just what to do. “Oh, but it's all ready, and, y'know, I made it just for you,” she said, with a deeply disappointed and hurt expression. Whether it was an act of kindness to avoid hurting Tasha, or whether Tommy was just eager to begin his encounter with this sexy girl in any way he could, perhaps Tommy himself could not have said. But he accepted the blender jar and downed the entire contents, pausing briefly to look at Tasha's eager expression; he did not hear the whispers of “Yes!” from the mirrored closet across the room.

As Tommy put down the blender jar, Tasha guided him to the middle of the room with his back to the mirrored closet door. Her hands reached around his waist inside his jacket and pulled him in for a hug; they stood there for a long moment, each enjoying the feel and scent of the other's body. Then her hands glided up the front of Tommy's close-fitting white shirt, stroking his chest and reaching his shoulders. She took his jacket from his shoulders with an easy, practiced motion. It slid down his arms and dropped to the floor behind him as her hands touched his.

Tasha put her hands over Tommy's tight rear and pulled herself close against him. Tommy began to feel almost hypnotized as he held her. She really is the sexiest girl in the whole class, he thought. I really am so lucky sometimes. For her part, Tasha didn't need to know what he was thinking; his physical reaction, which she could feel very well through his tight jeans, told her enough She was definitely keeping Tommy “occupied,” just as Mouse had told her to. She raised her hands a bit and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. She pulled the soft and snug shirt up, exposing his chest and the rows of cobblestones that were Tommy's abs. She paused, smiled with a look of obvious pleasure, and inhaled sharply. Tommy too smiled, then raised his arms so that she could finish unwrapping the tight shirt from his body.

Tasha tossed the shirt carelessly to the old green vinyl sofa on her left, then ran her hands with skilled delicacy over the boy's solid chest, down to his waist. Tommy placed one hand firmly on her rear, and reached behind her head with the other, feeling the softness of her raven-black hair, and gently drew her into a kiss. He closed his eyes, savoring the scent of her hair and the feel of her lips and tongue against his, and of her hands stroking up and down the rugged muscles of his back. The barely suppressed giggles and angry whispers from the mirrored closet behind Tommy went unnoticed.

After a few moments, he drew away a bit, allowing Tasha to take a long look at his superbly muscled chest and waist. She reached forward to squeeze his pectoral muscles a bit, and the bumpy abdominal muscles below. Tommy felt certain now that this intoxicating young woman had fallen for him completely. As her hands moved to feel his right arm, “Score!” was his most articulate thought. He did not flex; and as he knew she would, Tasha asked him to flex his biceps for her. He did so, and was pleased as she made an appreciative “ohhhh” sound as his biceps hardened into an unyielding steel ball. He extended his arm and relaxed, and she kneaded the muscle, gasping again as he once again flexed it into rocklike hardness.

After a few repetitions of this ‘exercise’, Tommy put his hands very firmly at the sides of her waist, and lifted her rather easily off the ground. Instinctively, Tasha put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. Though this was unnecessary, she was treated to the feel of those powerful shoulder and arm muscles moving beneath his almost transparently thin skin.

Tommy, still holding Tasha off the ground, turned toward the green vinyl sofa at his side. He put her down just in front of the sofa; then reached behind her to unbutton her denim miniskirt, letting it fall to the floor. As Tasha started to open the button of Tommy's jeans, and Tommy began to put his hand into the back of her panties, a sudden noise interrupted the proceedings.

At first, Chuck and Rocky had been giggling softly as Mouse watched his girlfriend and Tommy going at it; Simon seemed to be enjoying the show himself, especially once Tommy's shirt came off. But soon Mouse began to lose his temper. “Just shut the fuck up, you assholes,” he whispered roughly. “This isn't funny. She's fuckin' enjoying this!”

When Tommy began to undo Tasha's skirt, Mouse got up and started to slide the door open. Simon whispered urgently, “Stop! Listen! You don't have to do anything! In another ten minutes, Tommy Boyd will be out like a light and you can do anything to him you want, I guarantee it!”

“In another two minutes, that faggot's going to be fucking my girlfriend if I don't stop him now! ” Mouse replied as he pulled the door open, amid cries of “Stop, you shithead!” from Chuck, “No!” from Rocky, and “Ohhhhhh, shit!” from Simon.

Hearing the noise from the closet, Tommy turned just in time to see the enraged Mouse charging at him as Tasha cried, “What are you doing, Mouse? Stop! I was just doing what you told me to do! You know I don't really go for pretty little boys like him!” Tommy didn't have time to figure out what this meant, because Mouse had just hurled his full weight against the smaller boy. Caught off guard, and slow to react, Tommy was toppled to the garage's hard concrete floor.

Mouse immediately sat upon the boy's chest, ready to start punching at his face, but Tommy struck first, though somewhat randomly, with painful blows to Mouse's chest, shoulders, and arms. His legs thrashed about as he started to dislodge Mouse with his knees. But Chuck and Rocky had followed their friend from their hiding place, and Chuck grabbed Tommy's ankles and placed his full weight upon them, while Rocky had similarly seized his wrists and was now trying to force them to the floor. But Rocky had badly underestimated Tommy's strength. Tommy forced his arms up and wrenched them free, once again lashing out at Mouse, striking a blow just below his ribs that knocked the wind out of the older boy, eliciting a shriek from Tasha, who had backed into the corner of the room and was watching the fight with a combination of excitement and horror.

“Chuck, it's going to take two of us to hold this fucker!” Rocky shouted. Chuck hesitated, unwilling to let Tommy's legs free, when he heard a metallic click. Simon, of all people, had brought out a pair of handcuffs and quickly cuffed Tommy's ankles together. Quickly, Chuck got up and sat himself on Tommy's left arm, while Rocky was able to apply his weight on the right arm, sitting on Tommy's upper arm while leaning on his forearm.

But once again, Rocky had underestimated the freshman boy's strength. Tommy managed to bend his right arm just enough to enable him to grab Rocky's forearm and squeeze — hard! Rocky yelped with pain, “Ow! Stop that, you faggot, let go dammit! Ow! Shit, stop!!”

But he did not feel Tommy release him; to the contrary, Tommy's other hand had reached up to grab him by his left bicep, and began to squeeze there as well. “Ow! Shit, Chuck, why did you let him go?” he yelped, but soon learned the reason.

Chuck had decided “not to fuck around any more”; he went over to the band equipment and grabbed a heavy mic stand. With a powerful swing, he struck Tommy's right hand. Now it was Tommy's turn to cry out with pain, as he released Rocky with both hands. Rocky and Chuck acted quickly now. Each grabbed one of Tommy's wrists, and they dragged him to his feet as Mouse recovered his breath and stood up.

“You little fucking queer bastard,” snarled Mouse, “you don't hit me like that and get away with it!” He took a deep breath, took a half step back, and aimed his hardest punch straight at Tommy's midsection, putting his entire weight into the punch.

“OW! Shit! Jesus Christ!” Mouse yelled as he pulled his aching hand back and rubbed it tenderly.

“Don't hit him in the stomach, you idiot,” called Simon from behind him. “Go for the face!” Mouse, his hand still hurting, nodded, and hit the struggling boy in his mouth. Tommy's lip was cut by the blow and began to bleed.

What's wrong with me, Tommy wondered, I should be able to take these guys. He was beginning to worry, and did something he wouldn't usually do: as Mouse sneered at his bleeding lip and readied another punch, Tommy lifted both feet from the ground and kicked hard at Mouse, sending him staggering backwards, but also pushing Chuck and Rocky back with an equal and opposite reaction. Their legs collided with the vinyl sofa, and they fell back, releasing Tommy as they tried to regain their balance.

Tommy, panting now, jumped clumsily at Mouse and grabbed sloppily at the older boy's arm with his uninjured hand, and began to squeeze. But Mouse, somewhat to his own surprise, wrenched his arm free from his grip and pushed Tommy hard. With his ankles bound, Tommy fell heavily back to the floor.

Now, that's just weird, Tommy thought, his mind feeling oddly fuzzy and confused now. I never lose my grip! This is so odd, it's almost like a bad dream. Oh, of course that's what it is. It's a dream. Yeah, so maybe if I just rest a minute here, I can start to control the dream like I sometimes do. Just a minute of rest. I'll be in control again soon … I just need to close my eyes … sleep a moment …