Date: Fri, 3 May 2013 14:16:53 +0800
From: horn1269@gmail.com
Subject: Webcam Boys Chapter 7: Not that Kind of Doctor

Disclaimer: You are about to read a fictional story. This story features
underage boys engaging in sexual behaviour. All similarities with any
persons living or deceased are purely coincidental. Really. If you're not
allowed to read this, then please don't. If you don't want to read this or
find it offensive then...feel free to peruse friendlier works of art.
Comments, suggestions and criticisms are very welcome, but please spare me
the flames. I mean, I'm still learning how to write properly.

Note: If you're looking for a quick fap, this ain't your story. I place
heavy emphasis on the backstory and any perverted interactions are milder
than most and come later compared to other similar stories.

TL;DR  This is a story with sex, not a sex story.

Author's notes are located after the story. Please try to read them even
though they're long. They're sometimes important.

Guys, Nifty's an awesome place to read creativity and post creativity.
Let's help it by donating.

This chapter is dedicated to Hans and Josh Ethan, my two friends with whom
i wish I could have spent more time with.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

				g.martinez presents:
				     Webcam Boys

Chapter 7: Not That Kind of Doctor


       William James was not unlike most boys his age. He woke up that
Friday morning expecting a repeat of the usual weekday routine, all leading
up to another ordinarily bland and boring school day. If there was anything
to be excited about, it was the enactment of his well-prepared plan to get
his best friend back.

       William went about his morning preparations with unusual haste. He
was already dressed for school and down the stairs for breakfast in the
time it usually took him to force himself out of bed on any other day. He
poured himself some cereal as he wondered where his mother was. She was
usually up earlier than him and already going about the kitchen already
dressed for work. He wondered about her conspicuous absence from the
kitchen and mused if the sudden break in routine represented some ill omen.

       It was only after he had finished his breakfast when his mother came
in, dressed for work, although her hair was still unruly and she still had
her slippers on. She was busily chatting away on the phone and seemed
genuinely surprised that William was there at all.

       "...and of course. Now hold for a second, dear, William's up. "

       "Hey, mom. Who's that?"

       "It's your dad. Why are you up early? I rather thought you'd still
be dragging yourself across your bedroom trying to wake up."

       "Well, uhm, I just had a good night's sleep?" William replied
sheepishly, suddenly remembering that he indeed had a great orgasm last
night that helped him fall asleep.

       "Just as well, I've been meaning to call you down. Your dad wants to
talk to you," said Mrs. James in her characteristically crisp
manner. William couldn't help noticing that she was eyeing him strangely as
she handed him the phone.

       "Hey, dad. "

       "Hey there, sport!" said Mr. James jovially.

       "Hey. It's great to hear from you. But, uhm, why did you call just
now? I mean, I'll be going to school in half an hour and it's gotta be
like, what, midnight over there. I mean, not that I'm not glad you called
or anything..."

       "Yes, well, some things are urgent enough for bad timing, haha!"
Mr. James said. What William liked about his father was that he had an
easy-going personality despite any situation that would require him to act
otherwise. He was the kind of person who would be gravely serious while
talking to co-workers, and then at a moment's notice switch to his informal
`chill' personality when talking with William. He was such a great father
in William's eyes that the only thing missing was for him to actually be at
home more than twice a month. As part of an elite cadre of UN diplomats,
Mr. James was expected to frequently travel abroad.

       "Well, okay. So what's up?"

       "Look, sport, I want to be honest with you. It's a lot harder for
the both of us -well more for you anyway-if I beat around the bush so I'll
get right to the point, that okay with you?" Mr. James said without losing
his warmth.

       "Well, okay, dad, though I still don't get what you mean..." William
replied with apparent confusion.

       "A couple of days ago, your mom got a strange call. She told me
about it and I decided that I'd call you the next chance I get and talk to
you about it. You see, William, that call was about you."

       "About me? What? Was it from school? Wait, don't tell me I got an
award for something?" William suggested to his father while grinning.

       "Haha! I would like for nothing more, believe me. Why, if that were
the case, I'd quit my job and fly back there as fast as I could just to pat
your back!" Mr. James laughed heartily.

       "Well, since you haven't, I guess it's not the case, huh?" William
asked still grinning.

       "Nope. And I found it really strange to say the least. You see,
sport, Mr. Watson was the one who called your mom and he uh...to put it
simply he warned us to keep you away from his son because he said you were
a...`homosexual influence'," Mr. James said delicately.

       "What..." came William's flat and dumbfounded reply.

       "Well, that's the gist of what he said anyway. What he said was a
bit longer. He was...very creative in his choice of words. Not to mention a
bit loud and agitated. "

       William didn't reply. His heart was throbbing and his knees were
starting to shake. It appeared that John's parents found out about
them. And now, his parents knew too.

       "William, are you still there?"

       "Y-yeah, dad..."

       "From what I understand here, you've been...well, playing more...uh,
mature games with his son. If I remember correctly he's your best
friend. His father is concerned that you two have been...becoming a lot
closer than best friends though...am I right?"

       William gulped audibly. He tried to reply but his fear reduced his
words to incoherent mutters.

       "William, I know that right now you must be scared, since your
secret's apparently out. But please, be open with me, son. I need to hear
this from you. Is what Mr. Watson said true?"

       "I-I...well...uhm...that's..."

       "William?"

       "Y-yeah...it's all true dad..." and before Mr. James could reply,
William added a hasty "I'm sorry dad!"

        "Sport, listen to me." Mr. James said. "I'll admit that I was
surprised. But well, I'm not angry with you, really."

       "W-why not? John's dad seemed really angry...and I thought you'd be
too..." William said morosely.

       "But I'm not his dad. I'm yours. We both think differently. And I
really don't think I'm in the position to get angry at you for the things
you did, not that I would."

       "How come?"

       "You almost sound like you WANT me to get angry at you," Mr. James
said with a laugh. "Well, let's see. I'm almost never home, I almost never
get to spend time with you and do normal father and son things. I don't
really have the right to judge you because I haven't been there to
supervise your growth as much as I should have. I haven't had much of a
hand in how you think, act and do things these days. I mean, I doubt I'd be
winning any `best dad' awards anytime soon."

       "Well, you would in my book!" William said.

       "Thanks for saying that, sport. But the fact remains that I'm not
there enough for you. I haven't even done the birds and bees talk to you
and I was hoping your school might do it for me. You already know about
puberty and all those things, right?"

       "Well, sort of, yeah..." said William, embarrassed.

       "That's great. Saves us all the awkward questions doesn't it? Haha!
But still...it's those things that I should have done as a father to
you. In fact, I really think I'm doing a really bad job at being a father."

       "No, you're not!"

       "Thank you ,William, that means a lot. But I still wasn't there to
raise you myself. Sure your mom is there too, but she's as busy as me these
days. You know, we were hoping you just learned a bit from all we taught
you when you were younger and sort of... grow up along those lines
eventually even if we weren't there to help you most of the time. I can
never be sorry enough for not spending enough time with you."
       William was silent though evidently listening, so Mr. James
continued. "Since I'm not really there to be your dad most of the time, I
don't have the right to judge your actions because I wasn't there to guide
you in the first place. I'm not saying that I would've stopped you from
being who you are, but as your dad, I should've at least been there for you
to help you grow up. To me honestly, it doesn't matter what you become as
long as you become someone you can be proud of.

       "In any case, I'm confident that I've taught you enough about right
and wrong and I trust you to do and decide what's right. That's all I can
ever do for you now, son, trust you."

       "Dad..."

       "So...I don't want to have to ask you now, but well I just want to
say that if you ARE gay, just swear to me that you'll be a good son...or
well, daughter, whatever the case."

       "Dad, I'm still a boy!" William said, now slightly smiling.

       "Right. So that means I don't have to buy you dresses now? Great!
Kidding aside, William, I wish Mr. Watson would see things my way and take
this all calmly, but since he doesn't, stay out of his business for a
while. I wouldn't want to fight with another parent over how to raise
children. I must be the worst possible person for an argument like that in
any case, though if it comes to that I won't back down and let another man
put my son down. Whatever happens, be a good boy to your mother, alright? I
love you, William. Stay safe."

       And with a promise to talk more about the issue when he got home,
Mr. James bade his son goodbye. William then noticed that his mother wasn't
in the kitchen again, instead finding her in the living room casually
sitting down while supposedly fixing her bag (although she just looked like
she was pretending). He just realized that his mother tactfully retreated
so that he and his father would have some privacy in their talk. Mrs. James
looked up when he entered the living room and gave him a smile. She walked
with him outside the door as they both prepared to leave. Unexpectedly,
Mrs. James hugged William from behind before they left the porch.

       "You know, William, I tried giving you most of the things you
wanted, like your games, because I thought it was a good way to make up for
the time we couldn't spend together. But I guess, it's no excuse for what
I've been lacking as a parent. I hoped you would understand but I still
cannot justify not paying enough attention to you. I still don't really
know how to react to all this, `gay' business...but I suppose all I could
ever ask for is for you is to be a good son," Mrs. James said in a
business-like manner, though there was unmistakable empathy in her tone.

       "Thanks, mom," said William as he gave his mother a goodbye kiss and
went on his way to school.

       Though he was feeling immensely cheerful, his thoughts were
troubled. He now knew what happened to John, and he understood why his best
friend had been acting so differently. It seems John's parents found out
about their budding relationship...and took it very badly.


       *****


	William arrived at school without much incident. As he gathered his
things from his locker and sat in the classroom, nothing of great
importance happened to him and no significant conversations or people of
interest interacted with him. All this annoyed the twelve year-old greatly,
because his master plan to get John back seemed to unravel already from
step one as evidenced by the conspicuous lack of John Watson on the chair
next to him.

	"Where the heck is John?!" William couldn't help but mutter out
loud after first period Science.

       "Well, if it ain't painfully obvious already dude, he's absent,"
chuckled Carl Rogers as he passed William on the way to his seat.

       William grabbed Carl's sleeve and tugged him nearer to his seat,
causing Carl to nearly trip over. "Hey, what gives, dude?" Carl exclaimed.

       "Do you know why John's absent?" asked William.

       "You actually expect me to know? What, am I his mom now or
something?" Carl replied as he smirked and pried William's hands off his
sleeve. "Though if you must know, he's out sick. Fever or something,"

       "Hey, so you do know!"

       "Maybe I just happened to overhear Nurse Joy talking to the teach'
about John's mom calling while I went out to piss," shrugged Carl. "For
future reference, attempting to tear off a piece of someone's shirt isn't a
good way to get info."

       "Hey. You knew, so it was totally justified," William said with a
mischievous grin.

       "Bastard," replied Carl, sporting a grin of his own.

       Before both boys could continue their good-natured bickering, their
English teacher and class advisor Ms Granger came in and asked them all to
settle down. She was carrying with her several bundles of paper, which she
began passing along to the class.

       "Well class, you'll be excited to know that the educational
excursion trip is pushing through next week Friday. It's the field trip,
for those who didn't get what I just said," Ms Granger said as she rolled
her eyes amid delayed cheers from the students.

       "We'll cover several locations, but apart from the Rowling
publishing house, the destinations are the same ones outlined in last
week's bulletin. Now, pass along those forms; they're the permission slips
for your parents. Remember, no parental consent, no trip," she said, rather
tiredly. She began arranging her books on the table in a harried manner,
with all the air of a woman having too many things to do.

        "Ma'am, will we be going in Route 66?" asked one of the students.

       "You mean `on', Heffley, unless you want to be buried there," Ms
Granger answered nonchalantly as the class sniggered at the red-faced
Heffley. "Which reminds me, we'll be doing preposition exercises
today. Seriously, you're almost in the seventh grade; I would've thought
you mastered these things already."

       "Ma'am, there's an extra permit left."

       "Oh?  I thought I had it all accounted for. Who's not here
today...let me see...where's Watson?"

       "He's out sick today, Ma'am," said Carl Rogers.

       "I see. Who can volunteer to give this to Watson?"

       "I will, Ms Granger," William volunteered as he raised his hand.

       "Very well, James. I will hold you responsible. And before we start
this day's lesson, I'd like you all to know that a classmate of yours
received an award for having one of the best essays in an interschool
writing competition."

       The class was staring around; it was clear this was news to them. Ms
Granger sighed exasperatedly.

       "I would've thought that you told them. Well? Stand up, Masters, and
let your classmates appreciate the honor you've brought our school."

 	Johnson Masters hesitantly stood up and looked straight at the
blackboard, seemingly to avoid eye contact. An awkward smattering of
applause followed, with Carl Rogers noticeably clapping harder than the
rest.

	"I'm sure the school paper will come out later today and tell you
all about it. But really, I expected you to be more proud of your
classmate. Anyway please take out your text books..."


*******


	William had a quick lunch and afterwards found himself wandering
the halls aimlessly. There was still a bit of time before the bell rang to
signal the end of the break and he couldn't wait for it. He just wanted all
the rest of his classes to finish so that he could go over to John's house
after school. He wanted to make sure his best friend was alright.

	He passed by the first floor staircase and found a knot of students
excitedly chatting nearby. They were all reading the newly released issue
of the school paper, a freshly printed stack of which was left at the foot
of the stairs for the benefit of interested students. Every time the school
paper was published, which was a quarterly event, students would excitedly
flip through its pages mostly for only one reason: to see if their names
were on it. Girls would frantically scan the literary pages to see if their
latest romantic poem submissions made it in. Boys, on the other hand,
either looked to see if their varsity team pictures included them or looked
forward to the comically drawn full-page collage at the back of each issue,
where there was a `find it' challenge involving small innocuous objects
drawn in the background.

	William picked one up and began flipping through the pages until he
found the section dedicated to competitions. True enough, he saw Johnson
Masters in his very own article along with a matching photograph of him
looking straight at the camera. To William, it almost seemed like Johnson
had half a grimace. He also noticed that the photo was credited to Peter
McMahon, and the article also had Peter as one of the contributing
authors. If William had any doubts about Peter's claims before about being
in the school paper, they were instantly dispelled. On the next page, he
saw an article about the school swimmers qualifying for the interstate
championships. The article went on to list the names of the swimmers, with
Peter McMahon as one of them. William felt like he was looking at an
uncanny coincidence, seeing both Peter and Johnson in the school paper,
since for a time, he had this inkling that both of them knew each other.

	William flipped back to Johnson's article and read it with a
mingled sense of intrigue and curiosity.

	"The recently held Pendleton Ward Interschool Writing Competition
ended with Elizabeth Seton Academy's very own Johnson Masters winning
second place in the non-thematic essay writing division. Masters impressed
the judges with his essay titled "Of Love and Lust". Sources claimed that
the judges were amazed a sixth-grader could have written such a mature
piece and considered him for first place. An excerpt of the piece was
requested to be published in recognition of Masters' achievement for the
school.

       `It is undoubtedly fierce, burning passion that gives humankind its
greatest strength and, curiously enough, its greatest weakness. From time
immemorial, the course of our lives has been driven by our relentless
efforts to pursue our passions.  The greatest and worst of our prowess is
made known by those boundless pursuits of passion. To what lengths then,
can we uphold our difference from mere beasts if our lives are driven by
that burning desire in our eyes? These same beasts, too, have passion; the
simple will to survive. They pursue it to no end. Similar to us, no?
Wrong. If there was ever one thing that separated our will to live from an
animal's need to survive, it is our conscious intent. That makes all the
difference between man and beast, love and lust.'"

       William read the excerpt, and despite his outward animosity towards
Johnson Masters, he couldn't help but be a little bit amazed at the
latter's apparent talent.

       "Hmm, it could use a bit of fixing though, sure he used big
words...but the meaning is all scattered like..." William found himself
saying out loud. Nobody paid attention to him and he was glad none did. He
wasn't exactly an authority in literary criticism. Still, he found it
amusing how he could actually understand Johnson's work while at the same
time identifying its weak points.

       "That's it," William thought to himself. An idea just popped into
his head, an idea so great that William felt like congratulating
himself. It wasn't such a random, inconsequential coincidence that he read
Johnson's article. By reading it, he had unwittingly acquired the best
excuse to talk to Johnson and fulfill his promise to Carl.

       "And PE is last period too...this is perfect," He further
thought. Because of John's absence, William's enthusiasm and daring had
been unsatisfied, as if left hanging after an anti-climactic ending. The
prospect of now settling things with Johnson Masters, learning his secrets
and treading on possibly volatile social territory positively filled
William with the sort of thrill he lost earlier. As the bell rang for
afternoon classes, William headed back to the classroom, excited and
nervous. In about a few hours' time, he was about to have an unbelievably
awkward heart to heart talk with his least favourite person in school.


       *******


       "You've all done some great throws today. I'm proud of you all. You
boys might actually have that Olympian spirit in you," exclaimed an
extremely contented Coach Piaget. That day's PE lesson was just about over,
with the coach having taught the class classical discus throwing.

       "Of course we do, sir! We really like throwing lethally heavy
Frisbees at each other. In fact, sir, just to get in the spirit, why don't
we all do it naked like the Greeks?" chided one of the boys, hoping his
sarcasm would be shared by his peers.

       "That sounds like an excellent idea, Shada. I'll pitch it to the
faculty and if they agree, your classmates will have you to thank for it,"
replied Coach Piaget smoothly, instantly turning the tables on the
flustered Shada, who was now enduring jeers and glares from the other boys.

       William was too focused on his mission to take part in the jibes. He
was quietly standing among the throng of boys, eyeing Johnson Masters all
that time. Johnson didn't seem to be in a mood to laugh either. At the
moment, William was internally panicking as he realized his plan hit a
snag. He hadn't thought of how he would actually approach Johnson, seeing
as direct conversation seemed too awkward, suspicious and out of the
blue. While William now had something to talk about with Johnson, he still
needed an excuse to actually approach him and he had none. He was starting
to seriously panic when Coach Piaget unwittingly came to his aid.

       "Before I dismiss the class, this week's assigned cleaners, please
put the discuses back in the storage room. That'll be...Masters and
Sanchez."

       With a groan from the boy called Sanchez, he went over to the
scattered discs and started collecting them. Johnson Masters did the same,
though in a much more stoic manner. William hung back and seeing his
chance, approached Sanchez.

       "Hey, Ethan. I can tell you'd rather be home right now than doing
that, so tell you what. I'm in a good mood today and I was thinking maybe
you want me to do that for you," said William, who thought he was sounding
stupid, not to mention suspicious.

       Despite his unconvincing reason, Ethan Sanchez gave him a big smile
and said, "Be my guest, Will, thanks bro!" as he sprinted off.

       William felt immensely relieved and couldn't help but feel that
heaven agreed with his plans, because despite some planning issues
everything seemed to be going his way. He saw Johnson heading to the
storage room with around half the discuses, so he picked up the rest,
including the ones Ethan had unceremoniously dropped to the floor and
headed to the storage room himself.

       He was just in time: Johnson was just about to get out of the room
when William blocked his way. "Will, what the heck are you doing here?"
asked Johnson acidly.

       "Getting these damned things cleaned up. Now, do you mind helping
me? My arms are just about to break off."

       Reluctantly, Johnson heaved the remaining discs into his own arms
and dumped them with the rest. William felt slightly annoyed that Johnson
didn't seem out of breath as he was, that and the look Johnson gave him
seemed to mock him for his lack of physical prowess. For the sake of his
mission, William had to suppress the urge to make a rude hand gesture.

       "What happened to Ethan?" asked Johnson, still rooted to the spot
and eyeing William cautiously. William was currently leaning on the wall
trying to catch his breath, and he couldn't help but notice that Johnson's
hands were already balled into fists.

       "I...owed him a favour and he asked if I could take his load this
week," said William, who tried hard not to break eye contact with Johnson
in case his eyes exposed his lie. He was internally berating himself for
sucking at lying.

       "His...load, eh?" Johnson replied as he smirked. William had to
summon all his self-control lest he give Johnson another impromptu nose
job. He couldn't see what was so funny and was sure Johnson was making fun
of him.

       Johnson turned to leave, but William stopped him. "Hey, Jim, wait
up..."

       "What do you want? Isn't it enough that you broke my nose while I
was completely defenceless? Isn't it enough that you made me the fall guy
for a fight you started? What do you want, William James?" asked Johnson,
not entirely successful at sounding calm. William thought Johnson's
bitterness was childish considering the nose-breaking incident was already
a month ago. Then again, he supposed that having a perfectly unbroken nose
forfeited his right to judge Johnson's temperament.

       "Well I...uh, read the school paper. They had a piece of your essay
there; I thought it was cool..."

       "Oh. You're the last person I expected to compliment me," Johnson
said. His tone was still weary but his hands had relaxed.

       "Really?"

       "No, not really. I didn't expect you to at all."

       "Well...I really thought you did good on it anyway. Easily up for
first place," William said, his self-control strained to the limit. He was
finding out first hand that one of Johnson's many talents was how to be an
infuriating jerk.

       "Well I didn't get it."

       "Yeah but you could have."

       "But of course, you're one of the esteemed judges in a prestigious
writing competition, so your opinion matters so much," sneered Johnson, his
sarcasm speaking volumes of contempt.

       "Damnit, Jim. Why can't you say thank you like a normal person? I'm
congratulating you!" William retorted, his patience snapping.

       "Pft. Fine, Thanks, I guess." Johnson said. William noticed that
Johnson chose that moment to become very interested in the bucket near the
adjacent wall. If it wasn't for the poor lighting, William could've sworn
that Johnson might have been slightly blushing.

       "Okay, well, I read it and it's cool you know a lot of deep words
and all...but I think maybe you should've toned them down. If you used
simpler words maybe you could've focused on the meaning," William continued
hesitantly.

       "What do you mean?"

       "Well, you sounded vague. I know you were trying to mean that
there's a difference between love and lust, but you seem like your focus
was scattered. Like the meaning was jumping from one to the next without
warning..." William said, trying to be very careful about his wording.

       "Oh, so you're a literary critic now?" Johnson said, a scowl etched
in his face.

       "No! I mean, that's just what I think..."

       "And since when were you a prize-winning writer, Will? How many
competitions have you joined? I'm so dreadfully sorry if my apparent lack
of experience has offended your clearly more superior conquests." Johnson
said, his tone trying its hardest to turn sarcasm into pure loathing.

       William was at a loss. He was infuriating Johnson with the
supposedly brilliant plan he had come up with. He felt like he had already
failed and was expecting Johnson to leave or beat him up or both, but
instead, Johnson was staring at him intently. Johnson was eyeing William as
if sizing him up, or trying to figure out his intentions.

       "I guess a doofus like you deserves a little bit of credit
sometimes. You actually have a point."

       "I-I do?"

       "Way to show me how much you don't deserve recognition, Will,"
Johnson sneered again. "I wasn't really trying my best that day. I just
thought I'd put in a few nice words and they'll eat it right up. That way,
I still get a medal without too much effort and mom can still brag about it
all she wants without me caring."

       "Oh...okay..." William didn't know how to respond. He didn't know if
that hint of resentment in Johnson's voice was intentional or not.

       "I can see you tried to plan this out, Will. The careful flattery,
the choice of topic, the timing...but the fact is you're too obvious. If
you've read as many books as I have, you'll realize it's a pathetically
cliché method to ask someone for something. Well? What is it? What do you
want from me?" Johnson demanded.

       William didn't think Johnson could have him totally figured out, but
before he could think of what to say next, Johnson interrupted him.

       "Oh, I get it now. No. You faggot bastard. You're not satisfied with
last time are you?" Johnson said, his face livid. "You still want me to
show you my dick don't you? You think that a few compliments are gonna get
me to drop my pants? You bastard!"

       Johnson made to leave but William grabbed his wrist. Johnson
instinctively tried to swing at William with his left fist, but William
grabbed it with his free hand as well, stopping Johnson from punching him
any further. William then pushed Johnson as hard as he could, causing the
latter to fall on a pile of rubber mats. To Johnson's surprise, William's
hand was outstretched, seemingly offering to help him stand up. Confused,
Johnson took it and William helped him back to his feet. The instant he was
upright, Johnson pulled at William's outstretched arm and threw him to the
ground. With Johnson's stronger physique, William hit the ground hard, his
head hitting the floor audibly.

       "Oh shit!" Johnson exclaimed. His earlier fierce expression
evaporated into panic. He grabbed William's shoulders and tried to have him
sit up, leaning on the wall. "Damn, you're not dead are you?"

       "Ugh...I'm a bit dizzy but, no, sorry to disappoint," William
replied slowly, clutching his head. A few drops of blood oozed from his
temple.

       "Shit. This is your fault! You're trying to frame me for this aren't
you? Just like last time!"

       "Getting the crap beat out of me doesn't sound much of a plan, in my
opinion."

       "Can you stand? I'll take you to the infirmary. Shit, they'll think
I did it again..." Johnson muttered, swearing a bit more.

       "Well, you did. But no, I'll be fine. Sit down." William said,
trying his best to remain focused despite the throbbing in his head.

       Whether out of fear or worry or curiosity, William couldn't tell
which, Johnson sat down opposite him. "What is your deal, William?" Johnson
asked.

       "I should be asking you that. What's wrong with you, Jim? I know
you're a jerk but lately you've been an angry ballistic jerk."

       "I don't see why you should pretend you care. You're not really my
friend, Will, I'll be blunt with you."

       "I appreciate that you're honest, and it's okay. I'm not
pretending. Though it would help if you told me what's gotten you so worked
up that you're often late in class and every time we talked something like
this happens," William said, pointing to the blood dripping from his head.

       "You don't need to know, we don't have any reason to talk to each
other anyway."

       "You're really not gonna tell me?"

       "I don't want to waste my time."

       "Jim, you used to be such a good ass..." William said, remembering
what Carl Rogers told him to say in case Johnson became stubborn. He
regretted it almost immediately after seeing the murderous look in
Johnson's eyes. After a moment though, Johnson's face relaxed as if he just
remembered something.

       "Carl put you up to this."

       "Yeah. Can we get the first thing out of the way though? What the
hell did he mean? He didn't tell me," said William.

       "Well...when Carl comes over to my place...never mind, forget about
it...it just means Carl trusts you," Johnson replied, blushing deeply.

       "Oh. Okay...?" William said quizzically.

       "I told Carl never to tell anyone. He told me he only would if it
was an extreme emergency. I didn't think he was serious. I mean, I didn't
think he'd tell anybody," Johnson muttered, his face getting angry again.

       "Jim, Carl's really worried about you. He told me how you wouldn't
even tell him anything about what you're on about. I know we're not really
friends, but I know how much it sucks when your best friend is hurting but
he won't say anything about it," William said gently, wondering why he was
making a lot of sense all of a sudden.

       "What do you mean?" Johnson questioned, looking at William intently
again.

       "John and I had a fight. Turns out he had a big problem, but he
never told me what it was. He wouldn't talk to me and it was all messed
up..." William continued, trying his best to sound eloquent. "John's my
best friend, Jim. I'd do anything in the world for him. But there he is
facing God knows what and I'm helpless to do anything because he won't say
anything."

       "What's that got to do with me? I didn't even notice you guys had a
row."

       "How much I care about John is the same as how Carl cares about
you. Carl's your best friend ain't he? I know you have your issues, but
think about what it's like for Carl. You know, Jim, it sucks so much when
you see your friend in trouble and you can't help. In fact, it
hurts. That's what I feel with John, and that's what Carl feels with you."

       Johnson sighed. His gaze drifted from William to the floor then back
to William again. "You know how awkward it is, having you guilt-trip me
after I just bashed your head in?"

       "No. But there's one other thing too. I'm really sorry about...you
know...that time. I know my apology is like a month late, but, I just don't
want us to be at each other's throats. I'm really sorry about punching you
and...well, pulling down your shorts..." William trailed off blushing
further still.

	"Maybe I'll forgive you if you tell me why you did that."

	"You mean, pull down your shorts?" William asked uncomfortably.

	"Yes," Johnson focused his gaze on William again.

	"I just wanted to compare...that's all."

	"Why the interest all of a sudden? Also, you're not the kind to
start fights, but you looked like you were ready to rip anybody who looked
at you to shreds. You even had the balls to punch me. Something was
upsetting you and I want to know what that is. "

	"Do I have to?"

	"You want me to forgive you don't you?"

	William sighed. He definitely didn't want to put up with this, but
if it made Johnson talk, he was obliged to endure. Also, his fatigue and
pain didn't allow him to thoroughly question his determination. "Fine. I
sort of met someone...and well that certain someone sort of...made me
conscious about dick sizes and stuff..."

	"So you showed someone your dick, and that someone told you it
looked great, but you still wanted to know if your dick was good enough
compared to other boys."

	"I...well, yeah. Wow, you're really good at guessing."

	"I'm not guessing, I'm inferring. There's a difference. So why were
you all upset?"

	"Because I felt like I was doing something wrong. I showed someone
who was practically a stranger my dick and I enjoyed it. But it felt wrong
too I didn't know what to feel."

	"You were doing something that made you feel good, but it felt like
you were doing something bad inside. It was ripping at your conscience
because you liked doing something you knew was wrong, and you couldn't
stop. You were jerking off for someone online who gave you something you
wanted even though you felt guilty afterward," Johnson said without
skipping a beat.

	"I h-how did y-you..." William muttered in shock.

	"Let me tell you something, Will. Boys our age start to get horny
all the time. You know this from our health classes. What you don't know is
what some people will do to get their rocks off. Some people might want to
see things they don't normally get to see, and go to all the wrong places
and all the wrong people just to see that thing. They know it's wrong, but
like you, it's a guilty pleasure. Then the things they see start to make
them ask who they really are inside. It gets even more complicated when
they meet the wrong people face to face and they can't escape doing things
over and over again with the wrong people, because it feels good even if
you feel like it's wrong inside," Johnson said profoundly.

	"Jim...I...are you saying you too...?"

	"One more thing. That day you were in the bathroom on the third
floor corridor, you were with John in there, weren't you?" Johnson asked,
his face starting to relax and a grin forming on his face.

	"You knew it was me?" William replied, his tone becoming panicked.

	"Only an idiot would think it wasn't you. You don't make a good
Batman impression. So, John was in there in the same stall you were in,
wasn't he?"

	"I...uhm..."

	"Well?" Johnson insisted.

	"Yeah, but it isn't-!"

	"Thanks, Will. That's all I wanted to know," Johnson said, cutting
across William's excuse. William wondered why Johnson didn't ask him what
he and John had been up to in the same cubicle, since it seemed like the
most logical thing to ask.

	Johnson stood up and said, "I'm sorry I pushed you, Will."

       "It's okay."

       "Let me help you up," Johnson said as he grasped William's
outstretched hand.

       After Johnson was sure William could stand up without falling over,
he hooked both of his thumbs in the elastic waistband of his PE shorts and
tugged them down together with his underwear. He gave William an
unobstructed view of his flaccid, three and a half inch cut dick. William
could only gape as Johnson started to fondle his dick until it reached its
full four-inch length. William did not fail to notice the dark curly
strands of hair above Johnson's noticeably thicker appendage.

       After flicking his dick to make sure it was hard, Johnson reached
for William's shorts. William was too dumbfounded to even try to resist as
Johnson removed his shorts and underwear, and started to stroke his
dick. Despite the absurdity of being manhandled by the boy who was for the
most part his enemy, not to mention the one who just gave him a head
injury, William got to his full length of three and a half inches. William
supposed that it felt good, but he was too distracted by the fact that
Johnson Masters, of all people, was stroking his dick. William privately
thought that Johnson's ministrations were rather skilled, as if he was used
to doing this to other boys.

       "You have a nice dick, Will, but well," Johnson said as he looked at
his dick twitch. "Mine's longer."

       Both boys smiled. It can be said that the inevitable consequence of
willingly showing someone your most private of possessions would be a firm
friendship.



       *******


       It was already 6PM when William arrived at the front porch of the
Watson residence. He was about to ring the doorbell when he remembered that
this was supposed to be a covert operation and that he shouldn't be
seen. Then again, he didn't exactly have any experience in entering houses
in any other way except the front door. He went around to the Watsons' back
yard and tried to peer at John's bedroom window. William knew that John's
window had a very simple latch that even a child could open. This was good
because William was a child. The problem was that it was twelve feet above
him, on the second story. Even standing on tiptoes, he couldn't reach the
point where he'd have to stand if he wanted to reach the point to open the
latch. Any age was a difficult age for someone needing to get through that
window.

       As he was pondering his dilemma, the backdoor opened and Sharon
Watson came out with a broom in her hands.

       "Oh crap," William managed to say. He had all the appearance of a
thief caught red handed.

       "William! I didn't expect you here...not in the back yard at
least..." Sharon said, lowering the broom she was carrying. It had just
occurred to William that Mrs. Watson was just about ready to swat his head
off with the broom had she not recognized him. William rather thought he
didn't need any more head injuries.

       "Oh...uhm...hi, Mrs. Watson..." William started awkwardly. Indeed,
he found it difficult to say anything to a woman who most probably knew he
was sexually involved with her son.

       "Next time, dear, the front door would be best, okay?" Sharon said
with a smile.

       "Yeah...uhm, is John home? He was absent and they gave out the
permission slips for the field trip so..." William said as he frantically
searched his bag for the slightly crumpled form.

       "Yes, John has the flu I'm afraid. Thanks for bringing it over,
dear," Sharon replied, taking the form from William.

       "Oh...I see..." William said still awkwardly.

       "What's that on your head, dear?"

       "Oh, this?" William replied as he pointed to Johnson Masters'
handkerchief wrapped around his head like a bandanna.  "It's nothing...I
just got a bruise from PE a while ago."

       "Oh...are you alright?"
	 "Yes, I'm fine, thanks."

       There was a bit of an awkward silence as William waited for Sharon
to reply. This was normally around the time when most people would invite
him to their house, but since Sharon didn't extend so much as a hint of
invitation, William decided to go on the offensive. "Look, Mrs. Watson, can
I please go up to see John? Just for a little bit? Please?"

       "Oh, well...I don't know..." Sharon said as she bit her lip.

       "I...I promise there won't be any trouble. I'm just worried about
him. Please..." William insisted, his determination apparent in his voice.

       "I suppose it wouldn't hurt..." Sharon said, making up her mind.

       A while later, they were in John's room, with William sitting on a
chair beside the bed and Sharon standing by the door. John was sound asleep
with a wet towel on his forehead.

       "It was quite sudden, the way he got sick like that. It was just
this morning when he woke up, his temperature went up to a hundred and four
degrees..." Sharon said as William fixed his gaze on the sleeping boy
beside him. He touched the side of John's neck and winced as he felt the
tell-tale heat caused by the flu.

       "He's been saying for a few days now how he's been sick. I know that
wasn't true, but I guess now the real thing caught up to him..." William
said wistfully.

       "What do you mean?" Sharon asked.

       "John's been pretending to be sick to throw people off the fact that
he's not himself."

       "Ah..." Sharon simply said.

       "Mrs. Watson, you know my mother always told me that thinking of
things that make you sick really does make you literally sick in the
end. I'm guessing that's what happened with John. I only just found out
but...he's been going through a rough time isn't he?" William said without
taking his eyes off John.

       "Yes, you could say that..." Sharon said with a hint of hesitation.
       William could tell that Sharon was trying her best as a mother to be
tactful. To him, her awkwardness and hesitation confirmed his suspicions:
Sharon knew about him and John and was uncomfortable with him being
there. Knowing that there was nothing left to hide, he held John's hand.
       "You...really are a sweet boy, aren't you?" Sharon quietly
said. William didn't seem predisposed to reply immediately.

       After a few minutes of silence, William said, "Mrs. Watson, do you
want me to leave?"

       "Well...I'm just worried that my husband-" and before Sharon could
finish, she was interrupted by the sound of a car entering the
driveway. Connor Watson had just arrived home.

       "Honey, I'm home!" called Connor from below as the sound of a car
door closing punctuated the tense silence inside John's room.

       "William, you must leave. John's father wouldn't like to see you in
the house," Sharon stressed. She called out to her husband, who was now in
the living room, "I'm upstairs with John, Dear!"

       "I understand, Mrs. Watson...but how am I going to get out?!"
William panicked. The Watsons' living room had a full view of both the
front door and the backdoor, which was in the kitchen.

       "The front door," Sharon thought out loud. "You have to hurry while
I distract Connor."

       "I...okay, Mrs. Watson," William said, his nerves getting the better
of him.

       The pair went out from John's bedroom and settled on the
stairs. William prepared to dash for his life as Sharon said, "Honey, will
you check the stove for me? I'm still with John!"

       "But I'm already on the sofa! You know I don't like to get up when
I'm on the sofa!"

       "CONNOR!"

       "Fiiiine," Connor Watson said as he slogged from the living room to
the kitchen. At the moment, William darted down the stairs and to the front
door. He wished he was quieter, but his quick pace only allowed him to be
as quiet as a ninja, if ninjas wore extremely heavy lead boots and stomped
rather than ran. William didn't look back to see if Mr. Watson noticed; he
opened the door and dashed outside, leaving it open in case the sound of a
closing door made his escape all the more obvious.

       As he ran away from the Watson residence, he could catch snippets of
an increasingly agitated conversation.

       "What was that noise?"

       "I just hurried down the stairs; I forgot that I used the oven
instead of the stove."

       "Why did you make me go here then? And why's the front door open? I
closed that!"

       "Maybe you just forgot you didn't."

       "No I did NOT forget! I'm sure I closed that!"

       The last thing William heard from behind him was Connor Watson's
faint voice which sounded like it was saying something along the lines of
"Who was that," along with the sound of a door being slammed shut. As
William ran, clutching a stitch in his side, he sincerely hoped he just
didn't make a bad situation worse.


_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________







Author's notes:



So guys, what do you think of chapter seven? I'm having a heck of a time
doing formatting and consistency. But thanks to all the great help you've
given me, I'm getting better. Special thanks to:


. Blake Cake

. Greg

. Matt

. B.E.

. the traveller

. my insanely awesome and fast editor for this chapter, Douglas (Guys, read
his story, The Perfect Game, too!)

. all the readers who encouraged me to continue in their emails :)

. and also, all the guys who helped me out before ^_^

(If you're a contributor who isn't in this list even if I said I would
include you, give me an email.)

Thanks so so much again, guys!


Any comments? Spotted any errors (especially typos!)? Send me a line
through my email:

horn1269@gmail.com

and tell me what you think about the story so far! Any suggestions and
criticisms are welcome too! And I guarantee I will reply to each and every
email you send me!


This chapter got finished fast enough, though i think one month is really
too long. I'll do my best to make it faster next time. It's funny actually,
this time I had TOO MANY ideas and I didn't know which ones to put in for
this chapter and that's why it took me so long haha!

Someone suggested to me that it would be better if i posted shoter chapters
if that would mean I could release them faster. I admit, there are some
times when I already have half a chapter (around 4 thousand words) and i
wouldn't get to finishing the rest of it till 2 weeks later. If i posted
those half chapters, would it be better than waiting for almost a month?
tell me what you think!

So guys, one of you told me i should set up a sort of mailing list so that
you guys will know when chapters are posted. What do you think? i think
mailing lists are only for the pro writers and I'm no where as good as
them, but I guess it will save you all the time you go to nifty just to
check if a new chapter is up, So, should i do it? Send me your thoughts!

I'm starting to wonder if anyone ever got my various pop culture
references, easter eggs and shoutouts. DID YOU GUYS GET THE IRON MAN 3
REFERENCE IN THE CHAPTER TITLE?? XD It would be awesome if you guys noticed
it haha! It makes writing and reading that much more fun, you know!
Copyright of course goes to the people to whom they belong. If you want a
full list of the easter eggs, just give me an email ;)

Also, credit goes to Lemony Snicket from whom I borrowed a paragraph in his
book All The Wrong Questions: Who could that be at this hour. Even for a
kids' book, it has wit and sarcasm that would sail way past regular kids,
which is why I think Lemony actually anticipated adults to read it too. I
mean, my sister never got that Lord of the Rings reference haha. I'm really
rather fond of that book now.

I would really like to thank all the readers who emailed me their
thoughts. It's really helping me in my writing :) also, guys, I would like
to encourage you to donate to Nifty to keep this awesome free service...
well, free. Just so you know, I got decent in English because I kept
reading in Nifty since I was a kid. No seriously, it helped loads :)) So
yeah, let's all support the site :) http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html