Date: Wed, 25 Apr 2018 04:35:13 +0200 From: Lewis Morales Subject: Young Bailey 3 Thanks for all the messages I have been receiving in response to the first chapter of `Young Bailey' - I do love to receive your feedback so please drop me an email at lewsmorals@mail.com to tell me what you think. And please don't forget to donate to Nifty (http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html) so they can keep publishing stories like this. As I mentioned in the first chapter, this story is loosely based around characters that appear in another story I wrote, `Bailey and Me' which you can find in the adult-youth section. This is a standalone story and you don't need to have read my earlier work, but you will find some crossover between the two as `Young Bailey' is designed to be a prequel of sorts, set about 4 or 5 years prior to the other story. The usual disclaimers apply - this story is purely fictional and the characters are not based on anyone in real life. It contains male-on-male sexual contact, so if you are uncomfortable reading about homosexual content between and adult and a minor then please do not proceed. In this story the characters are having unprotected sex, but in real-life you should always use protection. *3* "You're back again" I said as I opened my door to find Bailey standing there. "Is that ok?" he asked with a worried look on his face. I laughed. "Of course it is!" I responded, causing him to smile. "But shouldn't you be getting ready for bed?" "Yeah, probably," he responded with his shoulders slumping forward. I knew straight away that he wasn't having a good night. "That good, huh?" I asked. His gaze fell to the floor and I could see from his body language that he was upset. "Why don't you come in and tell me all about it." He followed me inside my room and we sat in what were quickly becoming our regular seats before I opened the fridge and pulled out the usual two drinks. "Tell Dr Ben where it hurts," I joked, hoping it would make him laugh and lighten his dour mood. "Just the usual; my room-mate is being a complete bastard. Same as always," he added with a sigh. "So what do you plan on doing about it?" I replied very matter-of-factly. He looked up at me with a surprised facial expression. "What do you mean?" he responded. "I asked what you are gonna do about it?" I repeated. "Are you just going to sit in my room and mope, and keep putting up with his crap, or are you going to find a way to deal with it?" I asked. He looked shocked by my tough-love approach to dealing with his problem. "I...I...I don't..." he stammered and stuttered, unable to find his words. "Do you think it's just going to get better all by itself? Do you reckon there's some magic fairy that's going to make your room-mate less of a douche? Dude, you're living in a fantasy world!" I said. "So what should I do?" he asked. "The way I see it is that you've got two choices: you either stand up to him or you spend the next five years being his whipping boy. What's it going to be?" I asked abruptly. He seemed taken aback by the way I cut right to the point. "Dude, you have to stand up for yourself. You've got to show him that you're not prepared to put up with this!" He looked away, staring at the floor as he muttered to himself. "It's easy for you to say, you wouldn't understand." "What?" I shot back. "What wouldn't I understand?" "It's...it's just...it's just so easy for you to sit here and say that I should stand up to him...but you don't know this guy," he responded angrily. "Then tell me about him," I replied calmly. He hesitated for a brief moment before launching into a description of his tormentor. "My room-mate is the most revered kid in my whole year level. He is this amazing sports-freak prodigy, and every kid in my grade is in total awe of how talented he is. His brother is the Rugby Captain, so he gets invited to hang out at all the seniors' parties, and there is a line of girls trying to get with him, which therefore means every guy is now falling over themselves to be his friend for the halo effect. If I try to take on the most popular kid in my grade, I'm only going to end up even worse-off than I am now," he responded, sounding glum and defeated. I think he was expecting me to back down and admit that I had been wrong, so when I started laughing he became annoyed. "Why are you laughing at me?" he shouted angrily. "Dude!" I responded between giggles. "You're talking about Kyle right?" I asked. He nodded. "His brother is my best mate and I've known him since he started here." "How does that help me?" he asked. "So Kyle may be an amazing rugby player, and all the tweeny girls might be wetting their panties over him, but that kid is as dumb as a box of hammers." "So?" he replied. "Think about it - instead of trying to challenge Kyle and make an enemy out of him, why not try to make him your ally instead?" I replied. He looked at me with a strangely pensive expression. "You're going to be sharing a room with him for at least the next ten months, and if you want him to stop making your life hell then this is your chance to make yourself indispensable to him." "How?" he asked. "Like I said, the kid's not very bright, but he knows that if he fails his classes then he'll get dropped from the rugby team. It means he could probably use a tutor, and you, Bailey, are about the smartest young guy I know. Why not use your strengths to your advantage?" I suggested. He looked at me with a mix of suspicion and incredulity. "Do what you do best, play to your natural strengths instead of trying to find his weaknesses." "So you think if I tutor him then he'll stop picking on me?" he asked. "Absolutely!" I replied. "Get yourself noticed, then make yourself indispensable." "But why would he want me to tutor him?" he asked. "He hates me." "You don't get it do you?" I responded. "Kyle may be dim, but he also doesn't want every guy in his grade to know that he's failing classes and damage his reputation as the king-pin. You can tutor him in your room with the door closed where no-one need ever know about it; he gets to keep his image in tact, and you get to make peace with your bully," I continued. His facial expression showed me that he was thinking about what I said. "I suppose that could work," he responded. "Do you have a better plan?" I asked him. "Not really," he replied. "I guess it's worth a try." "Bailey, I know that you see me as the School Captain who gets good grades, is in the top sports teams, and gets invited to all the parties - you think I've got it all pretty easy. But you need to know it didn't all happen by chance; I've had some pretty tough times too," I added. "Really? Like what?" "When I started here a few years ago, I didn't know a single person and I struggled to fit in too. I was smaller than most of the guys in my grade, and I was battling to keep up with all the academic work that my teachers were setting for me. I had a pretty tough time of it in my first few months. There was one night when I felt like I was at breaking point, but I realised I had a choice: I could either curl up into a ball and cry, or I could get my act together, set myself some goals, and work like hell to make sure I achieved them." "So did things get better?" he asked. "Well you're sitting in the School Captain's room now aren't you? What do you reckon?" I asked. "Look I don't want to sound arrogant, and I'm not going to pretend it has been an easy ride, but like I said you've got to make some tough choices and work bloody hard. There are no free passes in life, so you have to set your goals and give it your all. If you can do that, you'll get everything you ever wanted and more." He stared at me for a long time, before a smile finally crept across his face. "Thanks, Ben," he said. "No worries, buddy," I replied, causing him to smile. "Got time for a quick X-box game before bed?" I asked him. "Always!" he responded with a laugh. The next day flew past quickly, with a full schedule of classes, an hour in the gym, ninety minutes of band practice, and a long formal dinner leaving me precious little time to focus on much else. I spent the latter part of the evening in my room trying to catch up on homework and I was just finishing off my maths task when I heard Bailey knocking at my door. "Oh sorry, I hope I didn't interrupt you," he stuttered as he opened the door. "Not at all, dude. Come in," I replied as I stood up from the desk. "Oh, it's just that....WOAH!" It was only when I saw his reaction that I realised that I was naked. "Oh shit. Hahaha," I laughed as I suddenly realised my state of undress. "Sorry dude. I was just trying to get comfortable while I did my homework. You know how it is," I joked back. Having grown up with two older brothers and living most of my teenage years in a boys' boarding school, I wasn't shy about my body; in fact I was pretty proud of the physique I'd developed from many years of sports training and gym work. I stood 6' 1" tall and still growing, my 175lb (80kg) body was packed with tight, taut muscles, and I was quite happy with the shape of the toned pecs, defined 6-pack abs and pronounced v-lines that I saw in the mirror each morning. Like most teenage boys, I thought nothing of wandering around my room in the nude, but Bailey's bewildered expression told me that he found this pretty confronting. "Come on in, dude. I'll put some clothes on," I continued. "No, it's...don't...it's fine," he stuttered in response. The poor kid looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable - I guess you're not used to this kind of thing." He suddenly blushed, his face turning a shade of crimson as he stopped talking and took a few deep breaths. I found a pair of shorts lying on the floor so I pulled them on. "So what have you been up to?" I asked as I turned to face him. "Nothing much. Just been doing some homework," he replied. As I sat down on the couch I indicated for him to sit in what was quickly becoming his regular armchair. He smiled at my gesture. "Not terribly exciting huh?" I joked. "Not really," he smiled again. "How are things with Kyle?" "Better," he said with a slight nod. "Did you talk to him about being his tutor" I asked. "Yeah, I offered to help him out with his Geography assignment and he seemed pretty happy about that." "Cool. Well you let me know if you need me to come and beat him up for you, won't you?" I jested. He smiled back at me. "How was training today?" "I didn't go today; I've got a big race tomorrow so the coach gave me the afternoon off." After a short pause he continued. "Actually, that's kinda why I came down here. I wondered if maybe you wanted to come along and watch my race tomorrow afternoon?" he asked. "Of course, dude! Where is it?" I asked. "It's here at school," he replied. "But only if you've got nothing else to do," he added self-deprecatingly. "I'd love to come and watch your race," I responded enthusiastically, causing him to smile as his gaze once again met mine. I could see in his eyes how much joy it brought him to know that I would come. I figured it would be, at most, an hour out of my afternoon but it would mean the world to him. "One day I'm going to be telling my grandkids about how I used to watch the famous Olympic swimmer when he was in high-school," I joked, again causing a smile to spread across his face. "So do I have to like get dressed up, paint my face, and wear the team colours?" I joked, causing him to giggle. "Um, not this time," he laughed back. We continued joking around and chatting in my room, talking like old friends, and I felt completely relaxed around him even though I'd only just met the kid a few days ago. There was definitely something about Bailey; even though he was only 14, he seemed much more grown up and mature than any other guy I knew. He was really easy to talk to and I continually found myself telling him things that I'd never shared with any of my other mates. As we chatted, I felt like I was talking to my wiser, older brother figure who had known me for years rather than a school-kid who I'd only just met. "So do you reckon we can sneak in a quick X-box session before bed or do you need to rest for your race tomorrow?" I asked him. "It's only a local trial," he joked, laughing as he dragged his chair across the room in front of the screen. We ended up sitting there for a few hours playing, laughing and just chatting, and I was having a great time getting to know him. It was after well midnight when fatigue finally set in and we could barely keep our tired eyes open. Bailey got up to switch off the console while I jumped into the shower to prepare for bed. Neither of us spoke about whether he would be staying over; he just smiled at me as he climbed into my bed beside me and turned off the light. We drifted off to sleep within minutes. The next afternoon, I headed back to my room after class so I could get changed before heading down to the pool to watch Bailey's race. I was looking forward to seeing him in action as I'd never seen him swim before and from what I knew about his times, I was pretty confident he would smash his competition. l knew that my presence at the race meant a lot to him after everything that had happened since he'd arrived at the school, but as I entered the pool complex I realised how quickly he had also become an important part of my life. When I had agreed to come along to watch his race it had been for his benefit, but as I made my way down to the pool I realised how much I was looking forward to going. When Bailey appeared on the pool deck I found myself smiling down at him and I could see the anticipation all over his young face. As the starter's gun went off he leapt into the pool with his powerful arms and strong legs propelling his body swiftly through the water; his stroke had that unusual combination of grace and agility that meant he looked calm on the surface even though he was swimming furiously underneath. He easily won his race, finishing more than three full body-lengths ahead of his nearest competitor, and he recorded a time that was several seconds faster than my personal best for the same event. I saw him look up at his time and I noticed the beaming smile on his face. He seemed pretty happy with his performance when he looked up to where I was seated in the grandstand and gave me a wave. Not long after his race was finished Bailey came and sat beside me. "You were incredible!" I complimented him. His smile beamed across his face, as we talked back and forth; me commenting on the fact that his impressive time was even faster than my personal best, and him reporting that he was pretty happy with how his training with Coach Foster was going. We sat there for ages, talking and watching races, and feeling totally at ease with one another. "So if you're not busy tomorrow morning, I'd be happy to do a training session with you - maybe give you a few pointers so you can improve your time," he offered. "Yeah?" I queried. "Sure!" he replied. "Meet me down here at six tomorrow and we'll do a few time-trials to check out your form." "That sounds great - thanks," I replied. "My pleasure," He smiled back at me. "I suppose I'd better go find Coach Foster - I'll see you in the morning," he added before heading back to the pool-deck. I dragged myself out of bed early the following morning and I immediately regretted having agreed to meet Bailey at the pool on the one morning of the week where I could have enjoyed a brief sleep-in. I rubbed my eyes as I grabbed my swimming kit and stumbled my way to the pool. "I didn't think you were coming. I was about to go without you," he said as a smile spread across his face. He explained that he wanted me to do a couple of 100m sprints, so he could time me and watch my technique before giving me a few suggestions. I knew I had no hope of matching his incredible results, but I managed a pretty decent effort as I raced up and down the pool several times. After completing my sprints, I jumped out of the pool so Bailey could give me some suggestions to tweak my technique. As we stood there on the pool deck he was completely in the zone, describing how I could better manage my breathing and get a stronger push off from my tumble-turn. I nodded in agreement, as I realised that his solutions were pretty straightforward and easy to implement. Finally he suggested that I needed to alter my starting stance to get a faster response time, and on his instruction I stood on the blocks in race position. I almost jumped when I felt his surprisingly strong hands grab the sides of my torso and pull my body down and forward. His hands were touching my bare skin, and his fingers seemed to be lingering much longer than was absolutely necessary, but the sensation it was giving me was electrifying. For the briefest of moments I felt my mouth go dry and I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying, instead I could only focus on the way his hands seemed to be cradling my hips and touching against my exposed flesh. "So are you ready?" I head him ask. "Huh?" I responded, suddenly breaking from my silent reverie. "I'm going to time you to see if it has made a difference," he responded. It turned out that by following Bailey's coaching tweaks I managed to shave almost a full second off my previous best time. I was pretty stoked with the outcome as it meant my chances of making the team had improved dramatically. But as I climbed out of the pool and began the trek back to my room to get showered and dressed for classes, I began to obsess over how much I had enjoyed the feeling of Bailey's strong hands touching against me when I was standing on the starting blocks. I couldn't help wondering, and worrying, what it meant that I had enjoyed being touched that way by him.