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   This file contains sexually EXPLICIT material depicting sex between an
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   story codes: (Mb bb snuff anal oral ped) style: contemporary

   THE DUNGEON MASTER by Rafe Morgan (Copyright 2012)

   Book I The Cage (Jacob) available now Book II Moto XXX in prep Book III
The Maze (Scott & Rabbit) available now Chptrs 1-13 are up, and more coming
every week!  Book IV On Vacation coming in March 2013 Book V Kill Zone in
revision (adding more fights!) Book VI Duel Masters in prep

   Note for Readers: All the Books can be read in order, or independently,
as you wish!

   BOOK I: THE CAGE (Jacob)

   All universal moral principles are idle fancies.

   Marquis de Sade

   Chapter 1

   I was accustomed to meeting boys in public places: sports events, malls,
arenas, skating rinks - even department stores.  These were fine for casual
pickups, but more and more these sites were being equipped with
surveillance cameras, and for the sort of venture I was about to attempt I
wanted no cameras or even the possibility of a nearby observer.  Public
places struck me as a bad idea, so I concocted a new strategy.

   The cable news had a three-day story about a Boy Scout missing in a
wilderness area and my thoughts turned to the woods.  Not all boys stayed
indoors playing video games; some still went into the woods looking for
adventure where they could play whatever they wanted undisturbed.  With
luck, and by searching in likely places, it ought to be possible to find
one.  There was even a remote possibility of coming upon a boy in the woods
playing sex games.  In the right circumstances no one would see the kid
going off with me and the risks would be minimal.

   The trick was to find likely spots to search.

   The Internet makes a good research tool and I had plenty of time.  After
equipping the spare bedroom as an office I went to work surfing map sites.
Satellite imagery had put the entire continental United States on the web
and although it was a lot of territory, my search criteria eliminated quite
a bit of it.  No one lived in the wild, uninhabited places, so they were
all ruled out.  Nor did I want rural areas; plenty of woods, far too few
boys - plus people in small rural communities tended to notice strangers
and unfamiliar vehicles.

   For opposite reasons - lots of boys, but no woods - urban areas were
excluded too.  This left the suburbs, a small fraction of the great
American landmass but still enough territory to make the job of studying
all the maps a daunting task.  But not all states had wooded areas.  I
could safely eliminate vast chunks of the Great Plains, nearly all the
Southwest and even big sections in the South where wooded areas were mostly
dense second growth swamps.

   In the end I concentrated on five states I thought likely to have woods
that might attract the right sort of boy.  On the theory that an affluent
family would report a missing kid sooner and trigger a more intense search,
I eliminated the wealthier communities and concentrated on lower
middle-class developments sited near woodlands.

   The lists that came up on my computer screen were still endless.  I
tried various things to narrow the search further, but then after staring
at map after map without getting anywhere I decided the whole thing was a
crapshoot anyway and just picked at random.

   Setting out on the trail in the van I thought it might be like the house
hunting: travel around, stay at local motels, pick up a boy here and there
at the malls...  There was some of that, but mostly it was boring work and
it turned up nothing at all.  I did a lot of bushwacking in a lot of brush
choked woods without turning up the slightest sign of a boy.
In the beginning, I took elaborate precautions: parking the van far from
target areas, using fake license plates in case someone called in a
suspicious vehicle, changing my clothes frequently, never using any route
twice...  That all stopped after a few weeks when I realized nobody was

paying me any attention.

   The thing turned into a routine.  There were always a few strip malls
and convenience stores around the low rent neighborhoods on my track.  I
would park the van at the closest one, do reconnaissance on foot and if I
thought there might be possibilities return after school hours to see if
anyone turned up.

   The trouble was, no one ever did.

   My search had started in winter, and that was part of the trouble
because boys were playing indoor sports after school and thus less often
outside.  Then there was my own laziness.  On Friday and Saturday
afternoons, prime hours for searching, I would be at the local mall looking
for a boy to take back to the motel room.  As month followed month with no
result I seriously considered going with the next boy I found at a mall -
but then I remembered the cameras and that I would have been seen with him.
The risks were too great.

   Three months into the game, with spring advancing, I finally got serious
and spent more time in the woods.  Perhaps it was the coming of warm
weather, or perhaps my luck simply turned, but on the next trip I had two
near misses.  Both were boys of the right age and appearance - about
twelve, slender and well-built - but when I came across them, one on the
first day of my trip and the other a week later, they were with companions.
On each occasion I found a position where I could watch, hoping the boys
would separate so I could get the one I wanted alone, but it never happened
and I was not prepared to take more than one.  When the boys left I did not
follow but went out of the woods in the opposite direction.

   These close encounters convinced me that the thing could actually be
done, so I started the next trip filled with renewed determination.  Summer
was coming, I would see more boys and eventually the right combination
would hit.

   I revisited an area from one of my earliest trips, a place where I had
seen crude play forts built in the woods although there had never been any
boys.  Now that the weather was warmer it seemed a likely spot to try.

   The site was far from my home base so it took a few days just to make
the drive and then I spent a night at a motel a few towns away before
making the final approach.

   Ten weeks had passed since I first explored the area.  Before, peering
through bare branches I had seen rows of small ranch houses in the nearby
development.  Now with the trees all in leaf the woods felt a lot thicker.
I had trouble even finding the heaps of dead brush I had thought might be
play forts, but when I did I stood absolutely still for a few minutes
looking and listening because from the appearance of the path leading away
toward the houses, I was sure someone had been using it.

   I bent down, peering into the brush pile.  Something glittered among the
dead leaves.  It was an empty beer can.  Next to it, wrapped in tinfoil, I
found two rolled joints.

   Intrigued, I scanned the area again, but the woods were silent and there
were no sounds from the housing development except the faint barking of a
dog.  Refolding the tinfoil I put the packet back alongside the beer can
and then checked my watch.  In two hours school would be out, and then
perhaps whoever had hidden the joints might show up.  It was worth a shot.
There were several good spots nearby to stake out the site.  I picked what
I thought was the most comfortable and settled down to wait.

   The hours crawled by.  I told myself I had been an idiot for not going
to get some snacks, except there had been the possibility that the owner of
the joints would ditch school and come early.  But no one came, and as the
third hour passed I was beginning to think no one would.

   School was definitely out, because for some time I had been hearing the
faint sounds of children playing over in the development.  I was shifting
position for what seemed like the millionth time, and thinking that I would
only give it another twenty minutes, when suddenly I froze.

   There were footsteps on the path.  Peering through the trees I saw a boy
coming toward the brush piles.  He was alone.

   The first impression I got was of pale skin, brown hair and a slender
athletic build.  I liked him right away and, holding my breath so as to
make no revealing sound, I took in more of the details.  He looked about
thirteen or else a big twelve, and the clothes he wore had the faded
appearance of things bought at the start of the school year, since washed
dozens of times and now outgrown.  On his feet were white basketball
sneakers that appeared a bit newer, perhaps something given to him more
recently.  Tied by the sleeves around his waist was a light warm-up jacket
and as he came closer I saw that the elastic trim of the jacket had a tear
in it.

   The boy's straight, light brown hair was down to his shirt collar in
back, short on the sides and beneath the spill of it across his fore head
were bright young eyes and pleasant features.  Around his neck he wore a
string of shinny brown wooden beads that glistened against his white skin
and there were a few more beads, colorful ones, tied onto the laces of the
basketball shoes.

   The more I saw the more I liked.  When he reached the brush pile and
glanced around warily I remained motionless, waiting until he crouched down
with his back to me before taking a glance around myself.  There was no
sign of anyone else.  Whatever I did, it would have to be now.

   There was a sound of tinfoil crinkling, then the flare of a match.  The
boy remained hunched over and I straightened up, moving quietly onto the
path, blocking any retreat for him back to the houses.

   When he heard my approach the boy turned, startled.

   "Okay, kid," I said, standing over him and holding out my hand.  "Let's
have it."

   If he had run, or even backed off and shown defiance, I would have let
him go, but I doubt if resistance ever occurred to him.  Wide-eyed and
frightened, he straightened up, gave me the lit joint and stammered, "It...
It's not mine."

   "Doesn't matter, kid," I said, smelling it.  "You're busted."

   I put a hand on his shoulder, feeling the loose shirt slide over his
warm silky skin.  Beneath my palm the muscle was firm and rounded.  Before
turning him, I dropped the joint and ground it into the dirt with my heel.
Then I pushed the boy ahead of me in the direction away from the
development.  Once again, if he had run or struggled I would have let him
go, but he did not.

   After a few steps he twisted his head around to look back and appeal,
"There's nobody home at my house right now.  My mom's at work." He was
close to tears.

   "Keep movin'," I growled, pushing him.  The boy made a tiny hiccupping
sound and stumbled forward.

   My van was parked at the end of a rundown strip mall where I had already
confirmed that there were no cameras.  No one was in sight when we emerged
from the woods and even if there had been I doubt if they would have taken
any notice.  After opening the sliding door of the van I shoved the boy
inside.

   "It wasn't mine, I swear," he pleaded as I climbed in after him and slid
the door closed.

   "What's your name?"

   "Jacob."

   It was a nice name.  I liked it.  "Lie down on the mat, Jacob.  Face
down."

   I had a foam pad on the bare floor of the van, the sort of thing
backpacker's use under their sleeping bags.  With a whimper the boy
stretched out and I pulled his arms behind him, snapping a pair of police
handcuffs onto his wrists, careful not to make them too tight.

   The boy's breathing was shallow.  He bit his lip and there was another
little whimper as I fastened a leather belt around his ankles.  "Don't try
to move around," I told him, straightening up.  "You'll just make yourself
uncomfortable.  And don't make any noise."

   He strained to get his head around so he could look at me, but he was
too frightened to say a word.  Turning away, I got into the front seat,
started the engine and drove the van onto the street, heading for the
interstate.

   The drive back across country went quicker than the outward trip because
I made fewer stops.  With contemporary rock cranked up to full volume on
the van's primitive stereo I followed the trucks on the interstate. 
Evening gave way to night and then day...

   The van's gas guzzling engine ran the tank dry every 300 miles or so and
each time we stopped to refill I offered the boy water.  At first he was
still in shock and sucked on the straw staring blankly, but later that
night when we stopped a second time he begged to use the bathroom.

   "Mister, I gotta' go!"

   I ignored this and kept holding the straw to his lips.

   "My name is Joe.  You want the water or not?"

   Jacob squirmed and light from the sodium lamps in the parking area
glistened on the tears gathering in his eyes.

   "Please Mister, I gotta' pee!"

   "My name is Joe," I told him again and climbed back into the driver's
seat.

   At the next stop, around dawn, the boy was groggy when I woke him and he
smelled of urine.  I un-cuffed his wrists and supported his shoulders to
let him sit up while he sucked water from the cup I held for him.  Then,
laying him on his side, I re-cuffed him with his hands in front before
going back to my driving.

   The remainder of the trip took most of the day and I was running on
adrenaline by the time we pulled into the garage at the house and the
automatic door rolled down behind us.  For the past twelve hours the boy
had not said a word and there was no reaction when I opened the side of the
van.  He stared straight ahead while the cuffs came off and the belt was
unbuckled from his ankles.

   Since he was in no condition to walk I dragged him out, tossed him over
my shoulder and took him straight through the basement and small bedroom
into the bathroom where, after locking the door, I began striping him,
starting with his sneakers, which I removed while he was still slung over
my shoulder.  Once these were off I placed the boy on the toilet seat where
he sat passively and allowed me to undress him like a doll.

   Jacob was everything I could have wanted, hairless and smooth all over
except for the lightest dusting of fuzz on his forearms and lower legs.  He
was slender but sturdy, with little swells of developing muscle that I
caressed as I removed his clothing.  Like the rest of him his groin was
hairless, and even though he remained flaccid I could see that his
circumcised penis had begun to thicken and lengthen with the onset of his
growth spurt.

   When he was naked except for the beads around his neck, I shoved all his
urine soaked clothing into a plastic trash bag, and then got undressed
myself.  Jacob stared ahead without making a sound so it was hard to tell
if he was watching or not.  I stood him up, admiring the athletic build
that was like a swimmer's or dancer's, firm little butt jutting out in a
hard rounded curve and the appealing leggy coltish appearance of early
adolescence when the lower body grows faster than the upper.

   Starting the shower, I got the temperature adjusted and took the
unresisting boy in with me for half an hour under the cascading hot water,
washing him, shampooing his hair, and then washing and rinsing him again.
Even though I held Jacob with his smooth naked warmth sliding on my own,
there was nothing sexual in our contact.  The boy had retreated to
someplace deep within himself and I was too tired, coming down off the
adrenaline high.  With Jacob drooping in my arms I turned off the water,
dried us both and then put him to bed in the small room.  His eyes were
already closing when I slipped him naked under the covers.

   For nearly a minute I stood there looking down at the sleeping boy,
savoring the anticipation of what it was going to be like learning to know
him.  Then I gathered up all our clothing and after confirming that the
connecting door to the large bedroom on the other side was locked, I left
the bathroom open with its light on for Jacob so he would not be in the
dark and carried all our things out to the workout area, locking him in
behind me.

   Like the boy, I also wanted to sleep but there were still important
things to do.  I put our clothes and the towels we had used into the wash,
changed into old jeans and a T-shirt and drove the van to a car wash out on
the highway.  There the foam pad got tossed into a dumpster and I pressure
washed the van both inside and out before driving back home.

   While our wet clothes were tumbling in the dryer I had a snack of toast
and coffee in the kitchen with the TV turned to CNN.  There was nothing
about a boy disappearing, nor was there anything on Fox when I checked
there.  Recovering our clothes from the dryer I put mine away and then
surveyed Jacob's.  There was nothing worth saving.  The jacket I cut up
with scissors, dropping the pieces into the trash that would go out at the
end of the week.  The boy's shirt, white underwear briefs, and socks got
cut up as well, destined for the ragbag in the garage.

   His pants I put up on the kitchen counter and used the scissors to cut
off the legs above the knee.  They would do as shorts until I learned his
sizes and got something better.  Returning to the cellar with these cutoffs
and Jacob's sneakers I unlocked the small bedroom door and stepped silently
in.  The boy was sleeping deeply, eyes closed and mouth half open.  There
was not a stir when I stroked his hair and after leaving cutoffs and shoes
on the floor next to the bed I tiptoed back out, locking the door once
again behind me.

   My intention had been to get up several times during the night and check
on Jacob, but I was more exhausted than I realized and slept straight
through.  When I woke with a start the sun was up and my first action was
to pad down in my bare feet to convince myself that his door was still
locked.

   Back upstairs I showered, shaved and then had a light breakfast while
watching the cable news.  There was an item about a search for a missing
boy, a brief story without name or picture, but from the location I knew it
was Jacob.

   Following a plan I had been turning over in my mind during the long
drive back, I heated up a serving of instant oatmeal and then carried it
down into the basement along with milk and a vitamin pill.  In the workout
area I stood for a moment, listening, but there were no sounds from either
the bathroom or the bedroom.

   Unlocking the door I found the light on and Jacob curled in a fetal
position on the bed wearing the cutoffs and shoes.  When I came in he
scrambled to his feet and backed away into a corner.

   "Breakfast time," I told him, placing the bowl of oatmeal on the bed and
holding out a carton of milk.

   The boy's eyes were sunken; his face looked pinched and there were tear
streaks on his cheeks.  He stared at me.

   "Come over here if you want it.  Otherwise, there's water in the
bathroom and that's all you'll get."

   Something twitched in his cheek.  He hesitated a few moments and then
step by slow step came to me.

   "I...  I don't like milk," he said, timidly, when I handed him the pint
carton.

   "Okay.  Don't drink it if you don't want it.  What do you like?"

   "Ummmm..." He thought about it.  "Orange juice?"

   "Yup," I said nodding.  "Orange juice is good for you.  That'll be okay.
Tomorrow at breakfast you get orange juice." Taking the milk back I
exchanged it for the vitamin pill.  "You still have to take this, though."

   Jacob examined the pill doubtfully.  "What is it?"

   "Vitamins...  Take it with your oatmeal."

   The bowl of oatmeal was beside us on the bed.  Jacob glanced at it and
then summoned the nerve to look up at me again.

   "I don't really like oatmeal much..."

   "Neither do I.  If you don't want it, I don't blame you.  But until you
show me twenty pull-ups on that," I pointed to the bar in the ceiling,
"Oatmeal is all you get."

   The boy peered at the bar.  "I gotta' chin myself twenty times?"

   "Only if you want more than oatmeal.  And, it's gotta' be pull-ups, not
chin-ups.  Chin-ups are too easy."

   Keeping his eyes on the bar, Jacob took a step back to get under it and
then jumped, barely catching it with his palms facing inward.  While he
hung for a moment I admired the play of light on his bare upper body, and
then as he started to chin himself I shook my head.

   "Nope.  That's a chin-up.  Reverse your grip."

   The boy looked at me in dismay.  "But that's harder!"

   "Like I said, chin-ups are too easy."

   He tried it, turning his hands to face palm out and then lifting
himself.

   "That's one," I said when he got his chin over the bar.

   He did eight, the last one with his arms shaking, and then dropped down.

   "I can't do twenty."

   "Then it's oatmeal." I handed him the bowl and Jacob made a face, but
like any boy his age he was hungry so when I took a spoon from my pocket
and gave it to him he sat down on the bed and ate.

   "Don't forget the vitamin pill."

   When he was done I took back bowl and spoon.  Then when he started to
follow me out the door I stopped him.  "Where are you going?"

   "Can't I come with you?"

   "Have you brushed your teeth?"

   The question took him by surprise and it was a moment before he
answered.

   "No."

   "Until you brush your teeth, wash your face - all that stuff - you can't
come out."

   Mouth half open, eyes raised to mine, he thought about it for a few
seconds and then trotted into the bathroom.  I sat down on the bed to wait
and when he came out had him open his mouth for inspection.

   "Good job.  Did you put everything away and clean the sink?"

   His eyes dropped.  "Ummm..."

   "Go do it."

   Without hesitation he returned to the bathroom and this time I
accompanied him, watching him put toothpaste and brush away before rinsing
the sink.

   "Good," I told him.

   When he followed me out into the workout area Jacob looked around
curiously and seemed puzzled when I sat down on the weight bench, putting
the oatmeal bowl and his unwanted milk on the floor out of the way.

   "What are you gonna' do?"

   "Workout.  You can join me if you want.  You're gonna' have to if you
ever wanna' be strong enough to do twenty pull ups and get off the
oatmeal." I started warming up and Jacob watched for a while and then
wandered over to look at the cable machine.  I let him go, knowing that
both the doors to the garage and upstairs were locked.  When he came back
he sat on the rubber floor mats hugging his knees, not saying a word as I
worked chest and arms.

   Finally, in the midst of a set of dumbbell curls, as I was grinding my
way through, he stirred restlessly and asked, "Can I try that?"

   I finished the last rep, put the dumbbells down and then acknowledged
the question.  "If you wanted to work out you should have come in with me.
I asked you, remember?  Now it's too late."

   Jacob hugged his knees again, watching silently as I went through the
rest of the routine, and then when I crossed over to the universal for
ascending and descending arm curls he followed and watched until I finished
there.

   "What are you gonna' do now?" He asked once I put everything away and
picked up the oatmeal bowl.

   "Clean up first.  Then maybe go for a swim."

   Jacob's face brightened.  "Can I come, too?"

   "Nope." I pointed to his bedroom and he looked at me, dismayed.

   "I know how to swim."

   "Gotta' learn to work out first.  Then we'll see.  Get in your room."

   Reluctantly the boy went back through the door and I locked it behind
him.

   After a shower, I did take a swim, although the water was still a bit
cool.  Then I took advantage of some midmorning sun to do a little tan
maintenance.  Of course I was impatient to get back to the boy, but
instinct told me that no good results would come from pushing, so I kept
myself reined in tight.

   At noon the cable networks featured stories about Jacob's disappearance,
giving his name and a picture.  Clips showed searchers dragging local ponds
but otherwise there was nothing new and the reports were brief.  I made a
protein shake in the blender and took it along with a disposable plastic
cup down to the basement.

   Once again, when I unlocked his door Jacob was huddled on his bed, sheet
and blanket crumpled beneath him.  This time as I came in he just sat up
instead of backing into a corner.

   "Brought you some lunch," I said, holding up the blender.  Jacob watched
as I poured out a cup of the frothy pink mixture and after accepting it
from me sniffed and took a cautious sip.

   "What is it?"

   "Protein shake.  Strawberry flavor today, but no real strawberries. 
When I make the banana one, I put a real banana in, too.  It's what I'm
having, so I figured I'd split it with you."

   The boy took another swallow, then more.  After finally gulping the rest
he looked up hopefully.  "Is there any more?"

   "Can you do twenty pull-ups?"

   His face fell and I took the empty cup from him.  "When you can do
twenty pull-ups you can have more."

   "How can I do twenty?" he asked desperately.  "I couldn't even do ten."

   "You'll have to get stronger."

   Jacob watched me drain the blender's contents then declared, "You're not
a cop, are you."

   I shook my head and then turned toward the door.  "Nope."

   "What are you gonna' do now?" There was a note of desperation in his
voice.

   "Probably read for a while.  Then I'm gonna' work out again."

   Jacob got up to follow me but I pointed to the bathroom.  "Have you
brushed your teeth?"

   "Uh..." he looked startled.

   "After every meal.  Go do it."

   Without hesitation the boy padded into the bathroom and I heard the
water run.

   "Did you clean up?" I asked when he came out.

   "Uh-huh.  You can check!"

   "Why?  Are you lying to me?"

   "No."

   "Then I accept your word.  Now make your bed."

   Once again the boy was startled and I told him, "If you want to hang
around with me then learn to keep yourself cleaned up.  When you've got
that bed made, then you can come out."

   With a bewildered expression Jacob turned to look at his rumpled bed and
I took the blender upstairs to the kitchen leaving his door open.  After
giving the blender a quick rinse I grabbed a video game magazine from the
stack of mail that had arrived while I was gone and then returned to the
basement.  In his little room Jacob was struggling with the covers on his
bed and after watching for a moment I went in to help him.

   "That's a good start.  Now, check this out.  Get the bottom straight
first, like this...  then pull the top.  Now the whole thing's straight. 
Then you just finish with a tuck.  See?"

   "Uh-huh."

   "Tomorrow, try it on your own.  It just takes practice.  After a week or
so you'll be able to do it with your eyes closed."

   I went back out to the workout area, sat down on the weight bench and
opened the game magazine.  After a moment of hesitation Jacob followed and
for a minute or two wandered aimlessly examining the different stations on
the universal machine before settling down on the rubber mats near me. 
Leaning against the wall, hugging his knees, he stared straight ahead for
several more minutes of silence and then said, "Mister?"

   I turned my head toward him.  "My name's Joe."

   My looking at him made the boy retreat into himself a little and it took
him a few seconds to gather his courage again.

   "Joe?"

   "Yup."

   "How long...  Like," his voice shook a little, but he forced the words
out.  "How long like do I gotta' stay here?"

   "That's up to you," I answered, shrugging.

   "Is this like...  Is this like, jail?"

   I shook my head.  "No, this is your home.  This is where you live now."

   He stared at me, confused, and I went back to my magazine, turning a
page.  "Your mother doesn't want you anymore, Jacob.  I don't know why -
you must have done something.  Anyway, she gave you to me."

   There was silence again while the boy thought about this, and then he
said bitterly, "She got a new boyfriend."

   I nodded to show I understood.  "Yeah.  Well, that could be part of it.
Anyway, whatever her future plans are, they don't include you."

   More silence...  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jacob press his face
against his knees.  I wanted badly to comfort him, but it was important
that he come to me first, so I forced myself to be patient and pretended to
keep reading the magazine.

   After a while the boy lifted his head and stirred restlessly on the mat.
He changed position several times and then, as I continued to watch him
covertly, I saw that he was eyeing the magazine.  Finally he moved to a
position much closer to me and slid over even more when I held the magazine
out so we could both see it.

   "It's got a pretty good article here about the new version of Doom."

   "I know this kid - he like plays it on his computer."

   "You ever try it?"

   "Uh-huh.  I was no good though."

   "It takes practice.  You didn't have a game system, right?"

   The boy shook his head.

   "Do what you're supposed to here, and I'll make sure you have one."

   He glanced up at me and I gave his bare shoulder a quick pat.

   When we finished the last article in the magazine I handed it to him and
got up so I could begin to stretch.  After a moment, Jacob scrambled to his
feet as well.  "What are you gonna' do?"

   "Workout.  You can do it with me if you want."

   He gave me an anxious look, laid the magazine carefully on the floor,
and began imitating the stretching I was doing.  "Good," I told him,
nodding.  "That's good."

   My workout that afternoon was back and back-arms, "...And that's a good
place for you to start," I said, "Because it's lat-pulls and wide grip
pull-ups and they'll both help you get stronger for your goal of twenty
straight pull-ups."

   Everything was new to Jacob, so the workout went for nearly three hours.
I kept the pace slow in order to teach him proper form and not overstress
him, but the limiting factor had nothing to do with his physical ability.
Instead the workout revealed a crippling lack of self-confidence that he
tried desperately to hide.

   At first, it was all I could do to keep him going.  On each set Jacob
eyed me fearfully, as if expecting to be teased or criticized.  He kept
repeating, "I suck at this" or "I'm no good at this."

   Over and over I assured him that he was doing well, until it seemed I
had used the phrase, "Good, that was good, Jacob..." at least a thousand
times.  The boy's sense of worth was so fragile that even when the workout
was over he was still saying apologetically, "I can't to do stuff like this
very good."

   "Okay, that's enough of that," I told him, sitting Jacob down on one of
the benches of the universal machine.  Both of us were shirtless and the
overhead fluorescent lights glistened on our sweaty bodies.  I crouched in
front of the boy and, careful not to use a harsh tone, said, "I want you to
stop doing that."

   Mild as the words were it was the first criticism I had given him in
several hours and instantly he retreated within himself, looking at me
timidly.

   "I want you to stop putting yourself down, and I want you to stop
calling me a liar."

   This scared him and, eyes widening, he told me desperately, "I didn't
call you a liar."

   "Yes, you did.  What did I keep saying to you while we were working
out?"

   "You...  You, like..." the kid was stammering now and flinched when I
gave his bare knee a pat.

   "I said you were doing good, didn't I?"

   He stared at me.  "Yeah..."

   "So if I say you did good and you tell me you suck, then you're calling
me a liar, aren't you?"

   Jacob's eyes were still wide and he stared without answering.

   "I'm serious about this, kid." My hand was still on his knee and I
stroked up beneath the boy's shorts, caressing his smooth thigh.  "If I
think you're doing something wrong, I'll tell you.  If I think you're not
doing your best, I'll tell you.  I'll always be straight up with you,
Jacob. Believe that.  If I say you're doing good, then you did good."

   His eyes stayed on my face as I rubbed his leg.  Finally he bit his lip
and then said meekly, "But I can't do the twenty pull-ups."

   "Yeah, not right now..." I smiled at him.  "But you will - you'll see.
You're gonna' get stronger, Jacob, because you're good at this.  Much
better than you think.  It might take a week or two, but you just keep at
it and you'll get there." With a grin I added, "That's gonna' suck for me
when you do, because I hate cooking.  Oatmeal's easy.  Bacon and eggs,
stuff like that - that's harder.  You just keep crankin' on that bar and
think of all the things you like to eat.  You'll be doin' twenty before you
know it!"

   This actually got a tiny little smile out of him and I patted his knee
again before straightening up.  "C'mon.  I'll rub you down."

   Obediently he followed me into his bedroom where I got a clean sheet out
of the wardrobe, covered his bed with it and told the boy to lie down on
his stomach.  Straddling him, I began massaging his arms and shoulders,
working slowly down his back, slipping my palms over his sides and along
his spine.  Jacob's slender body was oily with sweat and felt silky and
warm beneath my hands.  He was tense at first, frightened and unsure of
what to expect, but gradually as my hands moved in slow circles he relaxed.

   In the hollow of his back and around the sides of his taut waist my
fingers slipped just beneath the edge of his pants and then I gave the
boy's hips and rounded butt a few strokes through the thin cloth of the
cutoffs.  Jacob remained motionless as I did this, not flinching or tensing
up, but even so I did not linger.  After massaging his thighs I gave the
boy a nudge.

   "Turn over."

   He squirmed around onto his back and stared up at me while I rubbed the
muscles of his shoulders.  When I had him stretch his arms back he lifted
his head to watch as my palms glided over the smooth sweep of his chest and
stomach.

   "You've got a good taper here," I said, stroking down the sides of his
ribs to the lean hollow of his waist.  "We'll be able to do something with
that.  But your strongest part is your legs."

   My fingers slid down over the front of the cutoffs, rubbing briefly on
the boy's groin creases before massaging the slender rounded firmness of
his upper legs through the cloth.

   "Make a muscle," I ordered and while Jacob flexed his thighs my palms
kept moving, slipping the thin pants fabric over silky skin beneath.

   "Yeah, that's really good.  We'll work legs with shoulders tomorrow and
I bet you'll do just as well as you did today." Giving the boy a final pat
I nodded and told him, "Okay, you can relax."

   Jacob stretched out, looking up at the ceiling while I continued to work
my hands down to his knees, and then pushed them up under the ragged edges
of the cutoffs.  Stroking gently I slid my palms up as far as they would go
under the loose pants, bunching up the cloth.  The inside of the boy's
thighs was all warm sheeny satin and my hands slid nearly to his groin.

   "Feelin' okay, now?"

   He nodded and I stroked back down, bringing my hands out from beneath
the pants.  "I'll get you some decent shorts.  These cutoffs won't work for
some of the exercises we'll be doing tomorrow."

   Giving his thigh muscles a final rub through the cloth I moved a hand up
onto his bare stomach and circled my palm there, at the same time rubbing
my forearm over Jacob's groin where I could feel a slight bulge.  After
slipping back and forth several times, feeling it harden, I pushed a
fingertip into Jacob's belly button, which made him draw his legs up and
laugh.  Then I got off the bed, helped the boy into a sitting position and
pulled him onto his feet.

   "Shower now," I told him, patting his butt.  Herding him into the
bathroom I showed him body wash and shampoo that he could use, and then
helped him strip off the sweaty cutoffs.  Beneath it the boy was half
erect. His circumcised penis swayed back and forth as he stepped out of the
loose pants and as we both watched it lifted with the throbs of his
heartbeat into full four inch rigidity.  Jacob gave me a frightened look of
anxious embarrassment.

   "Relax," I told him, patting his hip.  "That's a great boner.  You're a
stud, kid.  I'm proud of you.  Get in that shower and lather up.  I want
your ass squeaky clean when you get out, so use a lot of soap, and really
work that shampoo into your hair."

   Taking the sweaty cutoffs with me, I left the boy to his shower and went
to the laundry area where I stripped off my own sweaty clothes and dropped
everything into the washing machine.  Then, locking doors behind me, I
headed upstairs for a shower in the bathroom that adjoined my bedroom.

   Later, after changing into clean clothes I went back into the basement
finding Jacob curled on his bed with a towel wrapped around his middle. 
The boy turned and then sat up, giving me a half startled, half fearful
look when he heard me come in.

   "You all cleaned up?"

   He nodded, then got up, adjusted the towel and followed me out to the
laundry area where I switched our clothes into the dryer.

   "Let's see how you did," I told him and led him back through the weight
area, his bedroom and into the bathroom.  Posing the boy in front of the
mirror I looked him over, inspecting his neck and behind his ears.

   "Not bad."

   With a comb I arranged the boy's brown hair, careful to unsnarl any
tangles without pulling on them, and then taking a bottle of coconut
scented skin lotion from the cabinet, I nudged him back into the bedroom
and had him lie face down on his bed.

   "You've never used weights before, have you?" I asked, squirting lotion
onto his back and spreading it with circular sweeps of my palm.

   Jacob shook his head.

   "You did pretty well for your first time.  Keep this up and you might be
okay."

   Rubbing more lotion onto his sides and around his silky waist my fingers
slid along the edge of the towel he was wearing, but did not push beneath
it.  Instead I nudged the boy, signaling for him to turn over, and he
stretched out on his back while I smeared creamy lotion over his chest and
shoulders.

   "You're gonna' be a little sore tomorrow, but it won't be anything you
can't work through."

   Jacob nodded, glancing up at me and then lifting his head to watch as I
dribbled out more lotion.  While my palm circled on the taut sweep of his
stomach I rubbed my forearm over his groin, feeling the hardness beginning
to lift there.

   "Okay." I handed him the lotion bottle.  "I gotta' take care of some
stuff.  Do your legs.  Get that lotion all over yourself and don't be
afraid to use a lot.  There's plenty more.  Then take a rest.  I'll be back
later."

   Jacob gave me an anxious look as I stood up.  "What are we gonna' do?"

   "We'll think of something.  Get that stuff on you.  Rub it in good. 
Your legs and all over your middle, too.  Use a lot."

   I locked him in and went to the garage where parked next to the van was
the small pickup I used for most of my ordinary driving.  I backed it out
and made a quick trip to the sporting goods store at a local mall for half
a dozen workout shorts and open sided muscle shirts that Jacob could use.
Then, on impulse, I visited the nearby jewelry store and picked out a neck
chain, ankle chain and small ear ring, all in gold.  With these extra
goodies safely tucked into a box and the sack of workout clothes on the
seat beside me I drove home.

   Back in the garage our clothes were finished in the dryer and I
collected them before going inside.  After putting mine away and placing
the box of gold jewelry in a drawer for future use, I got a charcoal fire
going in the grill on the patio and then returned to the basement.  When I
opened Jacob's door he was sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing
the towel around his middle and the room was filled with the pungent aroma
of coconut.

   "Here you go," I said, handing him his cutoffs and the new workout
clothes.  "Hang what you're not using in the closet.  You did good today so
we'll have a steak for dinner.  You like steak?"

   He was busy examining his new things but at the word "steak" lifted his
head and nodded eagerly.  "Uh-huh!"

   "Steak it is.  There's apple pie for dessert if you can do twenty
pull-ups."

   This produced instant dismay and his face changed expression.  "I
can't!"

   "How do you know if you don't try?"

   Doubtfully, he stood up, adjusted his towel to get it tight around his
waist, then got under the bar and jumped up for it.  I steadied him with my
hands on his lean hips while the boy tried lifting himself and he managed
to get his chin over the bar five times before his arms were shaking so
much he had to stop.

   "Tough luck," I said lowering him.  "No apple pie.  Maybe next time. 
You'll get there eventually."

   He gave me a stricken look.  "I did more the other time!"

   "It's hard to do pull-ups after you've been working your back," I told
him with a shrug.  "That's just how it is.  Don't get discouraged.  You're
doing all right.  You still get the steak."

   Leaving the boy's door open I went upstairs, put two steaks on the fire
and started bringing things downstairs for a meal.  Dressed in his cutoffs
Jacob helped me arrange plates on the weight bench, but when I brought down
a bowl of pasta salad he turned up his nose.

   I grinned at him.  "Don't like salad?"

   "Uh-uh!"

   "Gee, that's too bad because you're gonna' get a lot of it."

   "How come?"

   "'Cause it's good for you.  Hang on; I'll go get the steaks.  How do you
like yours?  Rare, medium...  well-done?"

   "Ummmm..." He had to think about it.  "Like, not all red."

   "You got it."

   The meal was a success and despite Jacob's complaint about the pasta
salad he ate all of it.  After taking the few dishes and utensils we had
used back upstairs I brought a folding chair, placed it in the boy's room
and sat there with the video game magazine.  When Jacob came over to look
at it I moved the chair close to his bed so he could sit on the edge of the
mattress and read with me.

   "This is like from that movie, 'The Three Hundred'," he said, pointing
to an ad for the video game.

   "Did you see it?"

   "Uh-huh.  It was like all this cool fighting!  It was awesome!"

   This was the first animation he had shown and it intrigued me.  I gave
the boy a speculative look.  "The Spartans all die in the end though."

   "Yeah, but..." The boy struggled for the right words.  "It was like they
still fought really good.  It was still, like, really awesome what they
did."

   "Would you like to learn how to fight like that?"

   "Yeah!"

   The beginning of an idea was forming in my head and I nodded slowly.

   "Weapons training makes a good workout.  We can do that."

   "Like, all kids learned how to fight then, didn't they?"

   "Yes.  Wrestling mostly, plus sword and spear training."

   Jacob glanced at me.  "I'm like, not very good at wrestling."

   "What did I tell you about that?"

   Even though I said this mildly the boy flinched a bit and I patted his
knee to give him assurance.  "You let me decide if you're any good or not.
You just do your best, that's all.  If kids two thousand years ago could
learn how to wrestle, so can you.  You're thirteen, right?"

   Jacob nodded.

   "Well, you're plenty old enough to learn how to fight.  Alexander the
Great killed his first man when he was twelve."

   "Who was he?"

   I stared in surprise.  "You never heard of Alexander the Great?"

   "Uh-uh."

   "They just did a movie on him!"

   "I didn't see it."

   "Well, he was quite a guy..."

   For the next two hours I spun stories for the boy about Alexander and
then the Trojan War, Greeks, Romans...  He listened, curled on his bed, and
when finally I saw that his eyes were closing I turned down the covers for
him.  The sleepy boy allowed me to take off his shorts, I tucked him naked
between the sheets and stroked his hair.

   "Get a good rest.  We'll be working hard tomorrow.  You and me.  I was
pleased with you today, Jacob."

   Moving the folding chair, I sat reading by the light from the bathroom
for another half hour listening to the boy's soft breathing until I was
sure he was asleep.  Then I tiptoed out carrying the chair and locked the
door behind me.

   That night two of the cable news stations had brief bits about the
search for Jacob, still showing the old school photo of him.  But floods in
Texas got the headlines and most of the attention was on a National Guard
rescue of two young children from a sinking car.  The following morning it
was riots in the Middle East.  Shots of rock throwing students and burning
cars were all over the TV while I made oatmeal in the kitchen.

   There was nothing about Jacob.

   ----------------- End of Chapter One -----------------