Date: Mon, 23 Mar 2020 01:06:02 +0000
From: AP Webb <pjalexander1753@gmail.com>
Subject: D'n'M Part2 Chapter8

This is the second part of the story of Dan Reed and Milo de Beer -- D'n'M.
As before, it includes scenes of sex between teenage boys and, in one
instance, involving a boy and an adult man.  However, sex is not the main
driver of this story and often there is none at all.  Part 2 consists of 21
chapters, all of which are written and which will appear on this platform
twice each week.  It will make more sense if you read Part 1 before
starting on this second instalment.

All the characters and events in the story are fictitious.  Any resemblance
to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.

The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the
express permission of the author who can be contacted at
pjalexander1753@gmail.com

D'n'M Part2

From Chapter 7:

"When you're ready, bro, push in a little further and start feeling around
for..."

Dan's grunting suddenly became a gasp of surprise and head to toe pleasure.
It was like a bolt of friendly electricity.

"Yep, you found it!  A first time bullseye.  Good job."

Oh yes, he'd found it, and with the discovery Dan lost all capacity for
logical thought.  Everything now was about the feelings flooding out from
inside his butt and from the end of his dick.  With both hands working on
overdrive, it was only a matter of a few minutes before his body went into
spasm, tightening his abs, thrusting his hips into the air and releasing
three rockets of boy cum which landed in a line from neck to tummy button.
He was almost, but not quite, incapable of speech.

"Shiiiiiiiiit!"

*******

Chapter 8:

Dan's finger-induced jerk-off euphoria lasted just a few hours.  He didn't
even have a chance to share his discovery with M, much less be able to
provide a demonstration, before his life took a decidedly downward turn.
It started with a message which pinged into his school email account:

	Reed:

Tomorrow (Tuesday) after school.  My office.  Wear your soccer kit.

Mr. Roberts

It wouldn't have been true if Dan had declared that he'd forgotten what the
teacher had told him, at the end of their previous one-on-one encounter a
few weeks before, that the boy should go back for a second time in order to
demonstrate his exercise-induced physical progress.  No, he hadn't
forgotten, but he had certainly pushed it to the very furthest and darkest
recesses of his memory.  Reading the email took him straight back to that
previous encounter, with its `accidental' touching of his ball sack and the
unwanted prodding and stroking of various exposed body parts.  Dan felt his
skin tighten.  Given the amount of time that had elapsed he had convinced
himself that the soccer coach had forgotten all about it, after all, they'd
been together on numerous occasions since -- school gym lessons, soccer
practices and matches -- and not a word had been said.  But now the email.
Clearly Mr. Roberts had a better memory than Dan had given him credit for.
He didn't know whether to cry or swear.

When the email arrived M wasn't around so Dan couldn't ask him his opinion
on what to do.  But then, the more he thought about it, the more he began
to berate himself for being such a wimp.  Why was he making such a fuss?
The teacher was merely following-up on their previous meeting to check on
Dan's progress.  What could be more natural, professional even, than that?
In fact, wasn't it a good thing that the soccer coach took such an interest
in the well-being of his squad members?  And when it came down to it, how
many other teachers did he know who displayed such a level of concern and
dedication?

Having answered these unspoken questions with `Nothing', `Yes' and `None',
Dan found himself feeling much more positive about the upcoming meeting.
Besides, he was sure Mr. Roberts would be pleased that Dan was following
his advice and was committed to the new work-out and exercise regime.  He
would also, Dan felt sure, be impressed with what Dan saw as the resulting
improvement in fitness, strength and muscle tone.  Yes, all in all,
Tuesday's meeting would be his chance to prove that he more than deserved
his place on the team.  Bring it on!

On Tuesday morning, on their way to school, Dan mentioned to Milo about his
appointment with Mr. Roberts.  When Milo suggested that he was quite
willing to accompany his best friend, Dan quickly offered a `Thanks but no
thanks' response, remembering how M's input last time had seemed to have a
negative effect on the teacher's mood.  He didn't want him annoyed again,
for fear of how that annoyance might rebound onto Dan himself.  No, he
guaranteed he'd get the meeting over as quickly as he could and would then
hurry home so they could get on with their scheduled work-out session.

At 3.30 Dan was outside Mr. Roberts' door, dressed in his soccer kit, fist
raised ready to knock.  Just as his knuckles were about to make contact
with the door he had a sudden and unwelcome recollection of what had taken
place the last time he'd been alone in the room with the teacher.  He
shivered and his fist dropped to his side.  With his heart pounding in his
chest he found himself deciding to give the meeting a miss, turning round
and heading straight home.  However, before he could turn and walk away he
felt the weight of an adult hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice
telling him to, "Open the door and go straight in."  Obviously Mr. Roberts
had come directly from another commitment, walking up behind Dan without
being heard and blocking off his exit.  All thoughts of an early escape
vanished as Dan did as he was ordered.

Once into his office, Mr. Roberts wasted no time in moving things along.
There was no chit-chat or small talk, Dan barely had time to register his
surroundings before the first instruction was barked at him.

"Right Reed, no doubt you remember the drill - strip off."

Dan really hadn't expected this.  He had thought that the email message
telling him to wear his soccer kit meant that there would be no repeat of
the near-naked touch-fest he'd endured before.  Apparently he'd been wrong.

"Everything off, boy.  So I can get a good look at you."  It was horribly
clear to Dan that he wasn't being given any choice.  He began to remove his
clothing, starting with his Nikes and socks and slowly followed by his
soccer kit.

"Ah, compression shorts.  Good choice.  Leave those on -- for now."

Initially Dan felt huge relief that he wasn't being expected to strip
naked, that was until the implication of the teacher's final two words
percolated through his brain.  `For now.'  That didn't sound good.

Suspecting that he was going to have to endure a second dose of the coach's
unwanted attentions, Dan was desperate to find a way to at least delay the
inevitable for as long as possible.  He began to fold his discarded
clothing.  Why, oh why, had he told M not to come with him?

"Don't worry about being tidy, boy.  We need to get on.  Leave your clothes
where they are and stand in the middle of the room so I can get a good look
at you."

Dan stood facing away from Mr. Roberts, arms by his sides, feet, knees and
thighs securely together, trying very hard not to tremble.  He was quickly
developing a very bad feeling about this whole situation, made one hundred
times worse when he heard the key being turned in the lock.  Dan's mouth
was suddenly very dry.  He tried, and failed, to swallow.  His whole body
shuddered when he felt breath on the back of his neck.

"Yes, I can definitely see some signs of improvement.  Have you been
following the regime I suggested?"

Struggling to keep his voice steady, Dan replied in the affirmative.  "Yes,
sir."

"Explain."

"Well, I work out regularly with M, I mean de Beer, run two or three times
each week and eat a healthy diet."

"Well your efforts seem to be paying off.  There's more muscle definition,
particularly in the upper torso, and your legs look stronger.  You also
look to have grown.  Is that true everywhere?"  Dan smiled, pleased that
his teacher had noticed the extra half inch added to his height in the past
couple of months.  However, the smile faded as Mr. Roberts continued,
placing particular emphasis on the final word of his next question.

"I asked you, Reed, if you've grown everywhere?"

It wasn't difficult to work out just what was meant by this very loaded
enquiry, and Dan's mind was working overtime, desperately trying to come up
with a way out of a situation that had started badly and was rapidly
getting worse.  He sent his thoughts out in every possible direction but no
coherent escape plan came back to him.  His teacher was behind him so he
had no visual clues to help him correctly interpret the man's intention,
although he had a horrible feeling that he already had a pretty accurate
idea.  He wanted to answer the question but, even if he'd been able to find
the words, the dryness in his mouth and throat had turned to sand and would
allow no sounds to leave his body.

"I said I want to know if every muscle in your body has grown."  Still
there was no response.  "What's the problem, boy, cat got your tongue?"

Dan shook his head, all the time relieved that his dick seemed as incapable
of movement as the rest of his body.  The very last thing he needed now was
for one of his frequent spontaneous hard-ons to raise his dickhead.

"Hmm.  It seems I'm going to have to come round to look for myself.  Let's
hope there's something there worth the journey."  So saying, Mr. Roberts,
respected teacher and successful soccer coach, walked round from behind Dan
and sat himself down in a chair right in front of the frozen boy, his eyes
in direct line with the bulge in his tight-fitting compression shorts.

"Well that's disappointing.  Hardly worth the trouble of getting you back
here."

For one glorious moment, as if the longed-for cavalry was about to ride
over the ridge to relieve the besieged fort, Dan thought this desperately
one-sided power-play -- like a mouse being trapped by a cat in a very tight
corner - was about to end, unexpectedly, in his favour.  But it was a
frustratingly short-lived moment, as, no sooner had his hopes been raised
than they were dashed to the ground and crushed comprehensively underfoot.

"However," continued the cat, "Never say never, that's my motto.  This is
the moment, Daniel, to prove that you haven't been wasting my time."

"Er," said the mouse, just about making enough spit to allow him to form
words and get them out. "I don't understand.  I've told you what I've been
doing to get fitter and stronger and you just said it's working.  I don't
know how I've been wasting your time."  Dan was amazed that he had managed
to construct such a coherent and assertive sentence.  His mum would have
been proud of him.  But this was no time to be distracted by thoughts of
his mother, Dan was increasingly aware that this was a situation he needed
to get out of, and soon.

"You're right, you have made reasonable progress, but that doesn't
necessarily guarantee your place on the team."  The cat continued to sound
perfectly reasonable.  "There are other ways of ensuring that."

"I really don't know what you mean, Sir," replied the mouse.  Although this
was a largely truthful response, the reality was that there was a growing
clamour of alarm bells sounding in his head, a clamour that was becoming
louder and more discordant every second.

"Come, come, now.  You're a bright boy.  I'm sure you can work it out."

Dan could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead and under his arms.

"I simply need evidence that all parts of your body are in good, working
order."

Dan was aware of his balls shrinking back up into his body.

"I'm sure there's one particular muscle that gets a lot of regular
exercise.  I'd just like proof of its continued growth and development."
The voice no longer sounded as reasonable as it had done just a few moments
before.  Now there was a definite edge of menace to it.

Dan's right leg began to shake uncontrollably at the knee.

"There's really no need to be frightened, Daniel," the voice calm and
reassuring once more.  "And if you're worried that I'm about to come over
there and molest you then don't be.  You can put that idea completely out
of your mind.  No, all I'm asking is that you do, here and now, something
that I have no doubt you do in the privacy of your bedroom several times
every day."

Dan could feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Maybe you even do it with de Beer ..."

Dan's face instantly took on a look of shock and disbelief.

"Ah, I see I'm not wrong there.  Well then, if he gets to enjoy and admire
you in action, what possible reason can there be for denying me the same
pleasure?"

Once Dan had worked out just what Mr. Roberts was driving at, of course
there were reasons uncountable that he could have used to answer this
question, but not one of them made itself available.  His every thought
process was focused on the fear that was flooding through his whole body,
out from his gut and spreading up and out like an unstoppable wave.  Surely
this couldn't be happening to him.  Surely he hadn't done anything to
deserve to be caught up in this horror story.  Surely he'd have known about
it if his soccer coach, the man he had looked up to and admired for so
long, was a perve or a pedo.  Surely ...

But then Dan remembered the last time he'd been in this room.  He
remembered how Mr. Roberts had seemed a bit sus, a bit odd.  He remembered
how pleased he's been to get out of there.  Shit!  Shit!  Shit!  He should
have seen this coming.  He should have stayed well away.

Dan's head began to shake from side to side.

"Very well, boy, let me make it crystal clear to you.  To keep your place
in the squad, a place you richly deserve by the way, all you have to do is
put on a little performance for me.  It's not much to ask and, believe me,
there have been plenty of others who have happily agreed to my little
`request' and who have gone on to achieve great success as part of the
team."

There was no longer any reassurance or reasonableness in the voice.  It was
all insistence and malice.

**********

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