"...and this, cadets, is your new classroom." Mr. J opened the door, directing in a gaggle of excitement and trepidation that was his new afternoon kindergarten class. Low, wooden tables were painted with tiny hand-prints in every color imaginable. A corner of the room was dominated by giant stuffed animals and bean-bag chairs. Brightly-colored bins neatly arranged into shelves held who knew what. Even the walls were vivid, with all sorts of containers and places for little toys. It even had a puppet theater by the back of the room.

Each pair of eyes skimmed the room from the doorway, looking at everything from the tower of hats behind Mr. J's desk to the full-sized mannequin, posed and dressed as a tap-dancer. Others were amazed to see life-sized cutouts of Disney's Belle and Batman, positioned as if they were discussing things with each other. But everyone had their eyes on something.

All but one, anyway. One little boy didn't seem impressed with any of it-- or, at least, didn't even give it a chance. He just stared at his feet as he shuffled in line. Mr. J had taken a mental note to keep a special eye on him from the very second that he climbed off of the bus. The kid just didn't seem to be able to assert himself. He was quiet, but plenty of kids are quiet. This one got bumped around and barely noticed.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Mr. J asked in a cheerful voice. "Fall in!" And off they went to explore the space they would spend the next year in. It was a satisfying thing to watch every time it happened. They poured in and all exploded in different directions, instantaneously informing Mr. J about some of their favorite things. Everyone in the room would eventually get to claim something as "theirs", changing it with their ideas over the year or coming up with something new. The room was like a living class project.

That shy little boy did not go running anywhere. He found a cubby to hang up his jacket and sat down at a table. It was always a shame in teaching that the most energetic kids got the most attention, but any other way, you couldn't keep them occupied and they'd raise hell. Mr. J promised himself that he'd find a way to get that boy excited about something.

The day needed to begin, so Mr. J gathered back all of his excited new charges to get them settled and begin the first day of class. After having each student claim a cubby of their choice, there was roll-call. In this way, Mr. J knew who his clowns, trouble-makers, and tough nuts to crack would be. The clowns always had some silly way of pointing themselves out. There were four in this class: Jamie, Jordan, Casey, and Travis. Only two trouble-makers, but both a boy and a girl this time. One sassy girl named Krystal who talked too much and a boy named Dustin, who was destined to enjoy beating people up if something wasn't done quickly. As for the tough nut to crack, there was just one: a very unexcited little boy named Toby.

"Alright, everyone, I run things a little bit differently, so pay attention." Mr. J wandered into the center of the tables as he talked to them. "You guys decide how much fun we have every day." Kids murmured in excitement. "We will be doing everything from reading books to playing games all day. But if there is a lot of misbehaving, then we won't get to have as much fun. I'll have to call games off or we will have to sit quietly to make up for it.

"I have one more very important rule. Anyone want to guess what it is?"

Travis's was the only one to shout out: "Don't spill the milk!"

He got his laughter and I gave him a little too. "Nope. But there is a sign. These are the first words you have to know, so pay attention!" Jogging away from their tables and back to the class entrance, Mr, J pointed upwards to an old wooden sign hanging over the top of the door, scribbled in layer after layer of crayon. "Three words! No-Meanies-Allowed. Who knows what that means?"

No one offered anything.

"It means that I don't like them and don't want them in my class. So, if you are a meanie, and are mean to the other cadets, I won't like you."

The kids nodded sagely, their six years of life were filled with examples of such individuals.

"Misbehaving and being mean are the two big rules here. After that, it is pretty easy!"

The class learned by example. When a student did something worth chastising, the class discussed it and found out why it was misbehavior or being mean. Mr. J did this on purpose. The best kind of social control was peer pressure for most kids. If a child knew every other person around him didn't like something, he was far less likely to do it again. It didn't always work, but it saved Mr. J from being perceived as any more authoritarian than the rest of the class. Which usually meant kids liked him better. And when the kids like you and respect you, the class works with little problem.

The first hour or so was spent playing games to get kids talking to each other, making friends, and getting comfortable. Kindergarten was a hard switch, especially for kids that never went to day care or preschool. Getting them acclimated was essential.

During this time, it came at no surprise who was successful and who was not. Some kids opened up more than others. Trouble-makers and clowns always found success in these early times, either through dominance or humor. Toby, of course, did very little socializing during this time. He wasn't the only one, though. Mr. J had to reevaluate my singular tough nut, as one little girl in glasses struggled similarly. Her name was Laura. He took note, but didn't force them along.

Instead, he did what made him so successful as a teacher: joined in. Shoving himself into one of the small chairs near Toby, he picked up a few crayons and began to draw. Slowly, the eyes of the class fell on their teacher and what he could be drawing. Being a crayon master, Mr. J had quite the gift for detailed stick figures and animal drawings. By the end, the kids were clapping at a beautiful, multi-colored rendition of a cow drinking milk. Mr. J gave it to Toby, as the assignment was to draw something to give to your neighbor. Toby gave his teacher back a stick figure of himself drawing a picture of himself.

Both pictures went on the wall.

The kids had shuffled seats multiple times. At this point, Toby had ended up next to Dustin. It wasn't ideal, but there was no reason to make a fuss until there was a problem. It came time for pop quiz, which Mr. J explained would happen every day.

"Pop quiz is like a T.V. Game show. The more you get right, the more stuff you get! The thing that will really get you somewhere here is knowing a lot of stuff. I want to know how much everyone knows, so, today, everyone will raise their hand when they know the answer. Don't lie, because one of you will have to tell me the answer. If you don't know it, but raised your hand, you lose all your reward!" Gasps abound. "So be careful! Don't raise your hand unless you absolutely know it. Are you guys ready?"

"Yeah!" they shouted in chorus.

"Excellent. First question: What is this letter?"

Everyone raised their hand. Casey was picked and said, "A."

"Perfect! Everyone gets one point. Here is a follow-up. Is it a big A or a little A?"

Again, everyone. And Jordan was quick to answer. "Big!"

"Awesome. Here is another one! What is this shape?"

And so the quiz went on. Mr. J saved math for last because kids always struggled with it the most. It was the test to see who was really taught at home ahead or not.

"Who knows what 1 2 is?"

Most hands were raised. Dustin proudly informed the crowd that it was 3.

"Good. How about 4 - 1?"

Remarkably fewer hands. Mr. J noticed Toby's was still in the air, so he called on him. Without the thrill the other students express, he explained that it was three as well.

"Well-done. Let's get a little harder. How about 8 3?" This was where most classes gave in, going over ten off of the top of their heads.

One hand remained: Toby. Mr. J called on him.

"Eleven." Toby sounded a little nervous of being singled out.

"Impressive, Toby. Good work. Can you go higher? How about 21 11?" Mr. J was confident that this was the end, so much so that he didn't bother to look for Toby's hand.

"Thirty-two."

Mr. J stopped dead. Was he still teaching a first-day kindergarten class or a third-grade class half way through their year? The kid was visibly shaken as all the other kids stared at him, but Mr. J had to see how far this could go. "Toby, that's right. Here's a tough one. What number can you add to itself to make the number forty-six?"

"Twenty-three."

"Wrong! I bet you he is cheating!" Dustin shouted, trying to take back the stage. "You are stupid!"

Toby looked visibly afraid of his table-mate, as if he was about to cry. Shrinking down into his seat, it looked as if he wanted to just disappear.

"Alright, Dustin, that's enough," Mr. J started.

"He is making stuff up. He's shaking like a baby because I called him out!"

Toby's face was bright red and he tried to shake his head to hold back tears.

It was time to nip this little uprising. But as Mr. J approached to stop it, Dustin's face screwed up and he pushed Toby and his chair right over. "Eww! Toby is peeing!"

Toby was sobbing openly as the dark spot on his shorts was still growing a bit. The class exploded in laughter and shock. There wasn't much time to think if Mr. J was going to pick up the pieces of this day.

"Enough!" he shouted, silencing every kid with fear. "Sit down! All of you have been mean!" Having to choose between disciplining the classroom and Toby's comfort, Mr. J chose Toby. Helping him up and taking his hand, they hurried out of the classroom, grabbing an emergency bag as they went. Mr. J flagged down a hall monitor.

"Watch my class for a bit. We had an accident and an altercation." Toby's face and front side made that clear. "Tell them they have to sit in silence or get in much bigger trouble. Grade A Misbehaving."

The monitor nodded and hurried inside, taking control of the class. With a crying Toby, Mr. J hurried off into an unused classroom that had its own bathroom and closed the doors behind them. The bathroom was meant for one child, so there wasn't that much room. The light flickered on slowly and made a little hum. Finally, there was a moment to attend to Toby properly.

Kneeling down, Mr J took each one of Toby's hands from his face so that he could look at the boy. With so many kids to handle, it was hard sometimes to stop and appreciate each one. Toby's mop of brown hair wasn't terribly well cared for, but it matched his little face well. Even with those tears and red face, there was something intangibly precious about him. Somewhere in his little blue eyes, maybe. His pink lips quivered, but even without the sadness they almost looked painted on.

"Listen, bud. I'm sorry about that. I should have stopped him faster. When you fell, did you get hurt?"

Toby could barely manage to shake his head.

"Alright, it is ok now though." Hands came up to that crying little face and wiped away his tears. "We are going to take care of you now." Mr. J had to be careful not to get the boy's wet spot on his own clothes, but brought Toby in for a hug. Slowly, his hand ran the length of the boy, starting at his neck and sliding down his spine all the way to his bottom. Mr. J lingered at each end, holding him tight.

Toby's crying turned into sniffles and the occasional heaving breath, so it was time to start taking care of other problems. Mr. J pulled the boy to arm's length again. "Feeling a little better?"

Toby nodded, but stared at the floor as he did.

"Hey, up here, bud." Mr. J's finger appeared under Toby's chin, lifting his gaze up to eye level. "There we go." A reassuring smile grew on the teacher's face. "If it is ok with you, we need to do something about your pants. May I help you with that now?"

Toby nodded, though his red face got a little redder at the idea.

"Thank you." Mr. J let go of the boy's shoulders and let his hands lightly slide down Toby's sides. His fingers passed the edge of a tee-shirt and found the denim cut-off shorts that had been soaked through. Those fingers continued along the edge of the shorts until they met at the button. No surprise touches if Toby always knew where Mr. J's hands would be. Undoing the boy's button and drawing down his little zipper, Toby's teacher returned to Toby's side and slid them down to the floor. Gently, Mr. J's hands held to the sides of his charge's legs.

Toby carefully stepped out of them, one hand on his teacher's shoulder. The denims were soaked all over. They would have to be washed. Mr. J checked the pockets and tossed them into the sink. Returning to the newly pants-less boy before him, he was forced to stop for a second to look on. One pair of too-tight underoos with a certain cartoon coyote running with explosives on them. One beautiful, tiny little bulge hiding in wet material. As sad as Toby was, there was no debating his cuteness.

"Alright, buddy, I'm going to have to take these off too." Mr. J slid his fingers down into the sides of Toby's underwear, hooking the waist band with his thumbs and drew it down. Even wet, Toby's skin felt so soft. The material stuck a bit, but slowly peeled away from his abdomen and finally breaking free from his crotch. Mr. J was perhaps a bit too eager to watch it happen, but was rewarded none the less. Cotton pulled away to reveal a perfect little prepubescent penis sticking straight forward and a pair of sweet peas in a pod pulled so close to him that they were almost gone.

As much as Toby's teacher wished that the half-erect penis was for sexual arousal, child development classes suggested that it most like had to do with the urge to pee in this situation. As tempting as such a thing would be to take advantage of, Toby was too fragile.

So the wet underoos were taken off and placed in the sink with the shorts. Before his teacher, Toby stood naked from the waist down, still smelling of urine and tears. His lower lip still hung a little low and his eyes drifted over his situation.

"Here comes the next part. I want to make sure we don't have to go anymore, because it looks like you might have a little more," Mr. J said, tapping the tip of his little dick. Toby jumped a bit, surprised by the feeling. "Now, I know you are all shook up, so I'm going to help you."

Again, Toby nodded. So Mr. J turned him around and put up the seat cover for the toilet. It was made for little kids, so it was low enough that Toby could stand at it. Mr. J inched up behind Toby and got him right up to the edge. "Ready?" Mr. J reached around to Toby's front and took gentle hold of the boy's penis, aiming it down at the bowl. "Now push!"

Toby closed his eyes and focused. Sure enough, a small stream broke forth. Pale gold sputtered out, making tiny ripples in the toilet. It quickly gave out, petering out to a leaky faucet, so Mr. J used his free hand to grab the boy by his butt and push him extra forward to avoid spillage. As the last drops drained, Mr. J reveled in the sensation of the boy's bottom. His middle finger had landed right in between Toby's cheeks, where it had already gotten warm again. Toby's breathing had gone up a little.

"Good work, buddy. Let's make sure we don't get any leaks." Mr. J slowly milked Toby with his forefinger and thumb, drawing out the last few drops. Toby was starting to respond, his hips just starting to meet the movements of his teacher's hand. Cute as it was, it was not the time.

Toby released a sigh as Mr. J pulled him back from the toilet and let go of him. Toby turned back around, now facing his teacher with a full stiffie. Mr. J had already started to open up the emergency pack. It was just a brightly-colored duffel bag, but inside, he had all sorts of things. There were two full changes of clothes for both boys and girls. Among other things, he also had a couple of diapers, pull-ups, baby-wipes, baby powder, and lotion. He seemed to be sorting through it, looking for what he needed.

"I'm...sorry..." Toby muttered.

"Don't be. You are not the first kid this has ever happened to. You won't be the last either."

"...really?"

"Yes, really. Why do you think I have this bag? But I knew before I ever started that I would need it. You know why?"

"Why?"

Mr. J laid out the baby-wipes and began to separate the girls' clothes from the boys'. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yeah."

"Because it happened to me when I was in first grade. I was a year ahead of you when it happened."

"No way."

"Yep." Mr. J pulled out a pair of brand-new underoos with some cartoon from the 90s on it. "Looks like those will fit. And these shorts will do." The underoos were followed by a simple pair of khaki cargo shorts for kids. "Now let's finish cleaning you up."

Mr. J opened up a package of baby-wipes and pulled one free. "Gotta make sure you are totally clean. Otherwise, you will smell." The wipe started on his flank, giving Toby a little jolt from the cold. Mr. J's hand was wide open, palming the wipe as he made his way up and down Toby's side. Some of his fingertips got to enjoy his work, soaking up Toby's milky skin. Working his way back, Mr. J took special care of each of the bubbles that made up his rump. Each one fit comfortably in his hand as the wipe did its work. Moving on to this other flank, Mr. J repeated the process before grabbing a new wipe.

"Ok, now spread your legs a little for me," he said, tapping the insides of each knee until the boy had his legs close to a 60 degree angle. "Here comes the cold again." Mr. J reached his hand through Toby's legs and placed the wipe low on his bottom. Slowly, he swiped his hand back and forth, coming just up to his little ball sack and then back, reaching the tip of the wipe up to his tiny butt hole. Rubbing a couple of circles on that button before sliding back, Mr. J wrapped up that portion.

Refocusing on Toby's front, there was still a stiffie waiting for him. As much as cleaning the rest of the boy with his tongue would make him a very happy man, the risk was just too great. Instead, he wrapped the boys dick and balls in the wipe and gently massaged them clean. Two fingers rubbed over his tight sack, feeling each tiny wrinkle, while a thumb and pointer finger jacked his nub. Feeling his flesh slide over the solid peg underneath was mesmerizing and Toby's teacher almost forgot about what he was supposed to be doing.

Toby whimpered a little and his legs got a little shaky. Knowing full well why, Mr. J couldn't help but ask: "Are you ok, buddy? How do you feel?"

"Mm... A little weird. Dizzy."

"I see. You going to be ok?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good." Mr. J pulled the wipe free and finished his task, wiping the bottom of the boy's belly and the front of his legs. Tossing the other wipe to the side, Mr J nodded his head in approval. "Nice and clean! Now we just get you dressed. Pretty easy, huh?"

Still flushed from first crying and then stimulation, Toby nodded. At least he was far away from crying now. Toby grabbed hold of Mr. J's shoulder and stepped into the presented underoos and drew them up, though he slowed down to cherish his last peek at Toby's jewels before covering them in cotton. Followed quickly by the shorts, a zip and a button, Toby was again in fresh clothes. Mr. J gave a little tug at the front to make sure they would stay on. A good fit.

"See? No sweat, right?"

Toby nodded, though he didn't seem as sure as his teacher did. He watched as Mr. J packed up the bag, tossed those wipes away, and grabbed the offending, dirty old clothes. "Let's go."

As they walked back, Mr. J stopped them in the hall. "Toby, I want you to know that if you have to go to the bathroom, you can. Just raise your hand and ask."

"But you were talking."

"Stop me. For something like that, it is ok."

"Ok."

"And by the way, good job at that math. I've never had a student that good at it. You must be some kind of genius."

For the first time that day, Toby actually smiled. Those little pink lips curled up in a mixture of pride and genuine happiness. It was clear how much it meant to him for someone, anyone, to actually think it was a good thing to be smart.

Mr. J and Toby walked into a very quiet classroom. Every student sat staring at a wall with the monitor. That woman sure had a way with children in the disciplinary sense.

"This is a change," Mr. J said, laughing.

The kids were eager to look back, but a stern bark of the hall monitor sent them back to the wall.

"Wow. Thank you, Ms. Callahan. I think I have this."

She nodded and bowed out gracefully, relieving herself of active command.

"Cadets! I want you all to turn around without speaking and look up here."

Relieved sighs and murmurs filled the room as the kids finally turned back to their tables to find Toby and Mr. J waiting.

"Now listen up. We need to talk about what happened today." Toby was already getting nervous and remained behind his teacher. "Today, all of you were meanies. Some of you," Mr. J began, looking at Dustin, "were physical or said mean things. Some of you laughed at a mean thing. And some of you watched a mean thing, but didn't try to stop it." Little Laura, the other tough nut, couldn't look up at the last part. "From now on, the meanie rule is a bit bigger. If you are mean, you are a meanie, just like always. But, if you laugh at a mean thing that someone else does, you are also a meanie. And if you watch a mean thing happen and don't do anything to stop it, you are also a meanie. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Mr. J." came a sad choir.

"Good. Now what do you say to a person who you have been mean to?"

"We're sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, cadets. You were not mean to me."

"We're sorry, Toby."

"Good." Mr. J knelt down beside Toby, one arm on his back. "Toby, do you forgive them?"

Toby was silent for a moment, looking over at Dustin and the others. It was strong, that urge to be mad and afraid and mean. But Toby didn't have the heart to be like that. "I forgive you," he said quietly.

"Alright, go take a seat wherever you want, Toby." Mr. J wasn't surprised when he found a seat at the only empty table, about as far away from Dustin as possible. He doubted that those two would ever be friends. But maybe they'd learn to live with each other at the very least.

And so the class resumed.

Recess came and went, though Toby stayed inside. Laura was nice enough to try to coax him out and, when Toby refused, she sat in silence with him. Maybe Toby wanted to be alone, but he needed some friends. Laura probably preferred the quiet herself.

The rest of the day went much easier. Dustin caused no other problems. Chatty Krystal ended up having to sit with Laura to control her tongue during story time. The clowns weren't as clowny as expected. All things considered, the day was still a success. At least the kids learned one of the most important lessons of the year right away. Mr. J didn't foresee it becoming too much of a problem in the future.

The cadets were lined up and marched out with the hall monitor, leaving Mr. J with the opportunity to clean up. Custodial came through right after the kids left and the room was cleaned up for tomorrow. Unlike the other teachers in his hall, Mr. J liked to stay after, doing any and all prep work at the school. He was notorious for staying late into the night working on new activities and lessons for the kids.

Mr. J was reading a new book of lesson ideas when the sound of sneakers in his doorway caught his attention. "Toby?"

Silent and sad, Toby wandered into the room with his backpack, jacket, and all.

"What are you doing here? Did you miss the bus?"

Toby nodded. "My dad was supposed to pick me up. He isn't here yet."

A quick glance at the clock revealed that it had been an hour and a half since school got out. "Do you have your address or phone number?"

Toby shook his head.

Mr. J sighed. Better cover the bases. So he called the main office and had them ring his father to no avail. It seemed as though the boy was stuck with him. It was considered inappropriate to give a kid a ride without permission, but there was no way that Mr. J was going to put the boy through the drama of the cops or social workers because a phone line went down or a cellphone battery died. If being teased about a good thing like intelligence brought him to tears and wetting himself, what would cops and foster homes do?

"Looks like we can't reach your dad. Do you mind hanging out with me for a bit? Then I guess I will take you home."

Toby nodded, finally willing to leave the classroom doorway. Mr. J had gone back to his work for the next day. Generally, kids didn't need much encouragement to go play or anything. Of course, it had slipped his mind completely that this was Toby: a boy who needed encouragement to do so much as raise his hand or have fun.

Just as he was about to ask Toby to go play, the mystery of the boy took over his thoughts. Extraordinary math skills, subdued, anxious around others, not terribly well-dressed. The shorts Toby had received as replacements were nicer than his old ones and his underwear was a bit tight. No new school clothes for him, it seemed. Was the boy being home-schooled as well? Mr. J had met his share of home-schooling parents. They weren't all bad, but they tended to be on top of their game in terms of caring for their children. And why would a home-schooler parent send their child to public school?

The pieces suggested something weird at home and Toby's mythical father further proved it. It was hardly a trend at this point. Any manner of emergency could have come up. But something still stuck out as odd.

"Toby, can we talk a minute?"

Toby had found himself at one of the tables, sitting quietly. He nodded.

"Come over here then. No need to shout across the room, right?"

Grabbing his bag, Toby walked over to Mr. J's desk. Letting his backpack drop with a thud on the tiled floor, he stood awkwardly beside the desk, looking up to his teacher. This would hardly do.

"I said come here, you!" Mr. J said in a fake growl, snatching the boy's hips and hefting him up to a sitting position on his desk. Toby's feet dangled off the desk, tapping Mr. J's thighs. Bringing each one of his hands down on Toby's knees, he leaned forward. "Much better, yeah?"

Toby nodded a little, shy and cute as ever.

"Good. So I got to tell you, buddy. I don't know if I've ever met someone your age that knew as much math as you do. You weren't hiding a calculator anywhere?"

Toby shook his head, looking down, but Mr. J caught that droopy chin and pulled it back up.

"You need to know that knowing all that math is a good thing, ok? You should be proud of that. I'm amazed."

Toby's face turned bright red, but he nodded. The beginnings of a smile were being made.

"Listen. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But how do you know all of that math anyway? Did someone teach you?"

"I read it."

"Where?"

"A book my mom had. She was a teacher for big kids."

Bingo. The records he was given for Toby listed just one parent, a father. Either Mom lost custody or she died. Considering how withdrawn and sad Toby always seemed, maybe Mom died. That would explain all of her possessions.

"So you found an algebra book?"

"Whats algebra?"

Maybe reading wasn't his strong suit. Mr. J had heard of kids being able to figure out books before school. Maybe Toby figured out the numbers before the letters. "Algebra is the kind of math you were doing." Mr. J pulled a piece of paper out and wrote the word down and showed it to the boy. "Is this written on the front of the book?"

Toby giggled. "Oh, Al-Gee-Bra." He said it completely wrong. Al, like the man, a very hard e on the middle syllable, and an extended "ra" like most Mid-west folks use when discussing feminine breast restraints.

Mr. J laughed with him. "That's a funny word, right? It is just the kind of math you did."

Toby nodded. "I sounded it out."

"Got pretty close too. Good work."

"So you've been reading math books, huh?"

"Yeah. The numbers are easy, but I don't know what it says."

"Good thing you came to school then, huh? This is where you learn that stuff."

Toby nodded.

Mr. J was so excited to find such a gifted student that he hadn't had the mental capacity to enjoy his hands on the boy's legs. He had never had a kid like Toby in his class before. Maybe some kids knew the basics, but this was something else! What a blessing.

Mr. J's eyes refocused on the clock by the wall. 4:45. The rest of the school was empty and all the teachers most likely gone. If he was going to be breaking the rules about taking Toby home, now was a good time, before night time custodial moved through.

"Alright, Toby, my math genius, I think it is time to head out of here. What do you think?"

"Ok," he replied, but seemed none too pleased about the idea.

Even if Toby wanted to stay, they just couldn't. Mr. J was already in enough hot water for sheltering what CPS would call an abandoned child. Not to mention Toby's father was probably very worried.

"C'mon buddy. Grab your bag and lets hit the road."

The two of them stole out of a side entrance to the parking lot. Mr. J looked around a lot, keeping an eye out for anyone. The school had cameras in the parking lot, but no one reviewed the tapes without a reason. Quickly ushering the boy into the front seat, Mr. J hopped into his two-seater and drove away from the school as quickly as possible.

The address the school had on record for Toby's residence was a trailer park. Mr. J was sympathetic to the existence of trailer parks, but felt uneasy in them regardless. With Toby's quiet guidance, Mr. J found the one he lived in. Socio-economic status often determines success in school. That a smart kid like Toby would have to fight that uphill climb already made Mr. J's heart sink.

Rapping at the door proved useless and Toby didn't have a key. His father's truck wasn't there, Toby said. Dad wasn't home. Toby confirmed that dad was usually home. Left with no options other than blatant violation of rules, Mr J loaded Toby back into the car and drove home.

Without a single possession to call his own, Toby followed his teacher into the tiny house over a half hour away from his own trailer home. Everything was old wood and deep colors. The floors creaked under Mr. J's feet, but just barely under Toby's. The entryway itself led directly into a living room with a very soft, plush maroon couch and plants in ceramic pots. Paintings lined the walls, everything from artist originals to reproductions of famous paintings like Starry Night. A new television broke the rhythm a bit, but the stand that held it was a lovely mahogany.

Mr. J popped his shoes off before walking in and hung his keys on a little rack by the door. The plush wine-colored carpet was always a comfort after a day of work. "Welcome to my castle, Toby."

"It's nice," he said, a genuine expression of surprise on his face. He took off his own shoes before walking in and commencing to touch the wooden door frame and the velveteen couch.

"Thank you for saying that. It took a lot of work to make it like this. Pretty tough when you are only one person."

Toby nodded as he wandered the room, looking at the paintings on the wall. "Pretty."

"I like that one too." It was a painting of Adonis from Greek mythology. Mr. J looked down at Toby enjoying his house and was secretly pleased. Toby's company warmed the house up quite a bit. It seemed like a bad idea to encourage this to continue, but it felt so right having him around. "So, Toby, what do you want for dinner?"

"I dunno."

"Well, what do you normally eat?"

"Mac and cheese."

"Anything else?"

"Pizza."

"You want to try something new and delicious?"

"...like what?"

"Ever had Chinese food?"

"No."

"Done deal. You'll love it."

Now, Mr. J wasn't the most fantastic cook in the world. But everyone has some things they've learned to make well, either from repetition or from actual cooking knowledge and research. Mr. J's was Chinese, something he spent his entire college career teaching himself to make so he didn't have to throw mountains of money at his local take-out place. Maybe it was a bad idea making his best dish first, but who knew if Toby being in his house would even happen again.

So Mr. J went to work on some beef lo-mein and some stir-fry. As long as the dinner contained some vegetables, he figured that it was a safe bet to feed to kids. As much as he worked taking care of kids during the day, making dinner for them didn't happen. His repertoire of kid meals was fairly low. It helped that Mr. J's palate loved kids' food, so maybe that would end up saving him in the end.

Meanwhile, Toby sat in the living room. His eyes wandered endlessly, finding new things every time he glanced about. Little ceramic figures, cool wood grain patterns, painted figures on the ceramic pots, a flower bud on that plant... It seemed endless. It was so different from where he lived. So much nicer. Little Toby didn't know words like elegant, so he kept falling back on the word 'nice'.

Two socked feet dangled off of the edge of a couch you could sink into and maybe disappear. No matter what position Toby could imagine, the couch accommodated. Even the smell of the house was nice. It smelled of cinnamon, like a pastry shop.

It didn't take long for dinner to be ready. A platter of pasta in a brown sauce, a mix of veggies in another brown sauce, and some white rice landed in front of Toby. New smells assaulted his nose, but good smells. Mr. J shoveled some on to each of their plates. "Alright, dig in!"

And so the two of them shared dinner together. Between the food and, well, the food, there was little conversation to be had. Mr. J never ate lunch and Toby had been a little nerve-wracked to indulge in snack time. So each of them fed their appetites until it became a matter of space in their stomachs. They both leaned back in their chair, letting food settle.

"So, Toby, what do you think? Chinese food?"

"It was good! Can we have that every night?"

Mr. J was about to respond, but closed his mouth. "What do you mean by that?"

Toby looked away. "I dunno. It was just yummy."

"Alright then. I hope you saved room for a little bit more."

"I'm full!" he said, whining a little.

"Yeah, but you can't eat Chinese food without having a fortune cookie at the end."

Mr. J tossed a wrapped fortune cookie at Toby, who had to chase after it under his chair after a fumble. Toby was hesitant, but it became clear that he just didn't know what to do with it. So Mr. J opened his and listened for Toby to follow suit before continuing. Cracking his in half, he pulled out a little slip of paper, then ate the cookie. Toby carefully followed this like a list of directions, but the paper did not offer much of a fortune to little boys who hadn't learned to read yet.

"What does it say?" he asked, holding the slip to his teacher.

Mr. J took it and read: "You have a cute butt."

Toby giggled. "It doesn't say that!"

"How do you know?"

"Because!"

"Alright, you win. Yours really says: 'You have all of the luck you need.'" Mr J shrugged. "These fortunes don't really tell you your future anymore. Want to know what mine says?"

"Yeah!" It was such a relief to see Toby so excited about anything.

"It says: 'Love and good fortune shine down on you.'"

After the both of them calmed down, Toby was staring off into space all of a sudden.

"You ok, buddy?"

"Do you think they are true, Mr. J?"

"What do you mean?"

"The fortunes. Are they real?"

Mr. J looked at Toby for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed. "I don't know. I like to think so."

"Me too."

In usual Mr. J fashion, Toby was enlisted to assist in the clean-up of dinner. Washing, drying, and general returning of things was made about Mr. J's brightly-colored kitchen. Once things were reassembled, the two boys landed back on the living room couch.

"So, how do we want to work this?" Mr. J asked, starting to finally think practical.

"What?"

"Well, there is a matter of bathing and bedding. First things first, do you take a bath at night?"

"Sometimes."

"And other times?"

"I skip."

Mr. J nodded. "Well, we are not skipping this time. I'll tell you what. You can have your choice. I take a shower in the morning. So, you can take a shower or a bath tonight or in the morning."

Toby thought for a moment. "Can I take a shower?"

"Of course. Tonight or in the morning."

"In the morning."

"Done deal! That solves that. One thing left."

"What?"

"Well, sleeping, of course."

"Oh."

"There is only one bed here, so I can't offer you your own bedroom. But, if you want, you can sleep on the couch here..."

"Oh..." "...Or you can sleep in my bed with me."

"Really?"

"Really what, Toby?"

"I can sleep with you?"

"Sure, if you want. I wouldn't make you sleep downstairs all alone."

Little Toby nodded his head. Confidence was building in him already. Mr. J was beginning to think that cracking this tough nut might not be so difficult. If this was the method he needed to take, however, finding a way to bring Toby home would be a matter of lies or heavy paperwork. Either way, the decision would not be his. Toby was great, but Mr. J had already broken more rules than he had ever wanted to in his life. Though it seemed hard to believe, his career was teetering over a cliff just by not abandoning this child.

There was always the matter that loomed above his head in all of this: touching. Mr. J found it very challenging to keep his hands off of the boy. Not even counting taking Toby home with him, he could have been fired before recess just for how he handled Toby's changing. As much as he tried not to think about it, Toby was a beautiful boy. Mr. J hadn't gotten into teaching to get access to this sort of thing and he had even assumed that the level of observation and scrutiny placed on him would be so much that there would never be any opportunity to act on it. Maybe he was wrong. Or maybe he just felt safer than he was? Mr. J wasn't sure. Nor did he even want to know either way anymore. The moments he had with Toby were charming affairs. Having anything overshadow them cheapened it.

Mr. J and Toby passed the next hour or so reading. Toby was a smart boy, so the teacher in Mr. J couldn't help but pick out higher level books to read to him. Television was fun and left plenty of room to relax, but reading to kids was far more important than that. Toby was great with numbers, but his reading had been left behind. So Mr. J retrieved an old, leather-bound copy of The Hobbit. Mr. J's own father had read Tolkein's work to him as a child, so it seemed a proper fit.

With the quiet of a ticking clock and the soft, rolling details of Tolkein's writing, the two wiled away an hour. With Toby pulled close, Mr. J told him of dwarves and dragons, eagles and wizards, of a magical world only as distant as his imagination could see. Toby had never heard of such things, never seen them with only a thought. He had seen movies, but this was different. The rolling hills and forests lulled him while Bilbo made him laugh. As the first chapter grew to a close, so too did Toby's eyes under the weight of a long day and the soft voice of his caretaker.

It was too clear that it was bed time. They would have to get up early and Toby was already almost out. Mr. J closed the book at the end of the chapter and roused his drowsy charge. "Come on now. Let's hit the sack."

"What about Bilbo?"

"He will be here later. Besides, at this rate you won't even hear the rest of the story."

Toby didn't have the energy to argue. So he pushed through the grog with Mr. J's hand on his back, pushing him ever onwards up the endless stairs to the one-bedroom second floor of the tiny old house.

The rest was a bit of a blur for Toby, but Mr. J had a hard time not paying attention. After all, he had never had a little boy in his bedroom before.

Like a young zombie, Toby wandered into the bedroom and slumped onto the large bed in the center of the room. He was practically passing out right there. Mr. J let him lay for the moment as he undressed. He didn't own pajamas, not for children or adults. It would be beyond inappropriate for him to sleep nude with a six year old, though. So he elected to leave his boxers on. After all, he couldn't very well sleep in dress slacks and a button-up shirt. So he tossed those aside.

Then there was the matter of Toby. He would have to wear those shorts again tomorrow, because there weren't any extras of those lying about the house. It was possible that there was a t-shirt or two that might fit him though. Sometimes, Mr. J made class t-shirts for the kids if they did well and were well-behaved. It was at his cost and he made them at home. Maybe he had some extras. So Toby would just have to sleep in his new underwear and his shirt.

Mr. J nudged the sleepy boy onto his back, waking him up a little. "You are going to have to get ready for bed too, you know."

The sight of his own teacher almost naked surprised him a bit, but didn't kick any second wind in. "But I don't have anything," he murmured.

"So I noticed. You will have to make do. You can keep your shirt, but we will need those shorts for tomorrow, so you can't sleep in them."

Toby didn't have much of a response that was coherent. He just groaned a little and tried to roll back over. At this rate, he would be out cold before the zipper was undone.

"Well, if you won't, I will." Mr. J's hands grabbed him by the hips and rolled him onto his back again. "Here we go." In no time, the snap and the zip were undone. Mr. J could see the little bulge wrapped tightly in superhero underoos, a shape he couldn't help but appreciate. In a pair of loose boxers, however, he could not afford to spend too much time admiring. Gently but firmly, Mr. J pulled away the shorts and tossed them in a pile with his own clothes on the floor.

Every instinct pushed towards laying hands all over that boy, his legs still a little in the air. Every moment he spent roving over the boy with his eyes was another moment that his boxers became more and more restrictive. Not that Toby was terribly conscious for it, but if this whole thing blew up, it would be pretty hard to convince the jury that the little boy's description of an erection was coincidence.

So he looped an arm around Toby and dragged him up to the head of the bed and fit him into the covers and climbed in himself. The covers were pulled up and all was well. Without even thinking, Mr. J pulled Toby close savoring the warmth and softness of his little chest, a place he had not yet had the opportunity to explore. Toby was already asleep as far as he could tell.

Mr. J buried his nose in the mop of brown hair crowning Toby's head and traced the boy's sternum with his thumb, luxuriating in his milky skin. It wasn't even that sexual, laying there like that. It just felt right somehow. Even as an erection threatened to grow all the way, Mr. J didn't care. Toby trusted him and he couldn't imagine breaking that trust. Even after one night, he was as much falling for Toby as he had anyone. Even though there was a dark desire to it, nothing seemed to be so pure as this.

When Toby awoke, it was still deep in the night. It was so quiet that Toby hadn't been sure that he was awake at all. Only one sense confirmed it: touch. He found himself hugged close by Mr.

J, but something about it had become uncomfortable. Somewhere in the dark of the covers, something was digging into the back of his bare leg. Toby tried to adjust his head to see, but Mr. J had his face up on the back of his neck, making that impossible. Toby was stuck.

Toby shifted up a little, trying to give Mr. J more room, but his teacher only pulled him closer and snuggled more. There was only one option left. Toby lifted his leg a bit and, much to his surprise, some slid right in between his legs. Toby froze, holding his leg up, waiting to see if Mr. J woke up. The breathing behind him kept the same, even tone. Slowly, Toby laid his leg back down, feeling the source of the problem. It wasn't a knee or a leg. The material of Mr. J's boxers, wrapped tightly around a rock-hard penis, was wedged between his thighs, very close to reaching the edge of his underwear.

Toby swallowed hard. His mind spun about, trying to think of something to do. The penis itself didn't scare him, but he was definitely afraid of waking up his teacher. What if Mr. J got mad? Under the covers, the warmth between his legs was growing quickly. Mr. J's penis felt hot like this. But how else could he sleep?

With no alternative, Toby tried to keep his upper leg light and wiggled into a comfortable position. As he did, the penis flexed and Mr. J stirred. Again, Toby froze. Mr. J, still asleep, shifted his hips forward. The material strained to hold the cock in, bending it upwards and poking him right where his balls were held in his undies. Toby sucked air, not expecting it at all. The heat radiating from the tip of it into him was strange, sort of nice. Mr. J's arm instinctively pulled Toby close, bringing his butt up against the base of the teacher's stomach. In Toby's ear, he could hear the breathing becoming a bit labored.

Uncertain, the boy's hand reached down in front of him, stretching past his underwear. Before he knew it, his fingertips had found the extruding member. At even such a light touch, it jumped, pushing into his own underwear. The boxers seemed to be holding it back. Toby didn't know anything about that, never having had a penis like his teacher's, but he suspected that it was not comfortable. If Toby could just get this sorted out, they could both sleep.

So his hands felt around the head of the fleshy tube fighting for freedom. Just like his underoos, Toby was sure there would be some way to pull it out without fiddling with the elastic band at the top. A fingertip slid through a hole and he felt the sudden heat of the penis. Toby froze again, his hand yanked back. Nothing. Toby returned cautiously to his work, having identified the fly and confirming that Mr. J's penis was the culprit. Was it always like this? How come it didn't stick out in class?

With the release of a button just underneath his teacher's boxers, the shaft slid free of the fly. Toby could feel it twitch, tightly wedged between his thighs. The boy's heart raced, as much amazed by the situation as afraid of upsetting the man who took him in.

His concern only worsened as Mr. J kept shifting in bed now. Was he waking up? Was his penis uncomfortable now? It kept moving, sliding back and forth. Mr. J's cock kept pulling back until only half of it was even there and pushing in all the way until the tip was poking Toby's package again. It felt strange to him, altogether scary and relaxing at once. If he could move so much while he slept to get situated, why not roll over or push Toby away?

Nervous and scared, Toby squeezed his legs together and held onto Mr. J's big hand on his chest, hoping that it would be ok.

When Mr. J awoke, it was still deep in the night. He was barely aware of what was going on. He had been having a dream, but maybe this was still it. In his dream, he had made love to Toby, giving him endless orgasms and even fulfilling every one of his own fantasies. Toby had moaned as his body was tickled, licked, and sucked. And even though it had been his first time, Toby had relished in being fucked by his teacher on his first day. Mr. J didn't even have to hold back, pounding a little boy whose ass seemed unimaginably endless and unimaginably tight.

The dream seemed to merge seamlessly into being awake, so much so that Mr. J did not even notice it. The burning heat around his cock, his dreams had told him, was Toby's ass. He could even feel that pert bottom bounding against his abdomen. He could even hear Toby's labored breath, feel his hands clutching his.

So he began to thrust faster, feeling more and more of the flesh that had trapped his cock. His cock-head occasionally hit something more solid, maybe the end of the boy's insides. Tiny slapping sounds, muffled from the covers, made him all the more convinced. It was so erotic that he couldn't help but kiss Toby's neck, driven crazy by cocklust.

Mr. J was getting close quickly. Like a beast, he began to thrust as hard as he could. His one free hand was desperate for more of something, to make it even better. Without a doubt, he needed to feel that boy's cock, just like he had all night. Cock pumping in that velvet place, Mr. J reached around to find his naked boy's cock, surely erect and ready for another powerful boygasm. But when his hand passed the stomach, he found underwear. Lost in his own ecstasy, Mr. J groped away at the tiny, wrapped up jewels. But, as his cum built up, he realized his mistake.

Cum splattered across Toby's thighs and underoos, accompanied by Mr. J's moans and Toby's muted gasp. Toby was practically lifted off of the bed as Mr. J held him as close as he could. Even though the cum had stopped flowing from him, he couldn't help but keep thrusting, spreading it all over the two of them.

As his teacher finally slowed to a stop, Toby began to calm down. He had no clue what he had done, what had happened between them. There was a funny feeling between his legs from Mr. J suddenly grabbing him there and he could feel his own penis was like his teacher's now, sticking out.

Meanwhile, Mr. J was coming to his senses. It really had all been a dream. Toby was dressed and he had just molested the boy. Even as pangs of guilt were setting in, his cock was still lewdly smashed between the boy's legs, dripping cum into the sheets and rubbing on his crotch. This was why rules existed. It was an accident, but what jury would accept that? That wasn't even taking into consideration Toby. What could one say to a boy they accidentally molested?

"Are you awake?" Mr. J whispered.

Toby's head nodded into the pillow.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Toby shook his head into the pillow.

"Can you talk to me?"

Toby bit his lip for a moment. "...yeah."

That was a huge relief. "Listen. I'm sorry about what just happened. That wasn't ok of me. I probably scared you pretty bad, huh?"

No response.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No..." It was clear he didn't know what to say.

Mr. J pulled away and drew off the covers. A shiver went through his body as his limp cock finally slid free. The wetness was getting cold on both of them. "Toby, can you look at me please?"

The boy hesitated, but finally rolled over and looked up with sad eyes.

"This is all my fault. I want to make sure you are ok. So, if you are uncomfortable or scared, I need you to tell me the truth. Are you a little scared?"

Toby looked down at the pillow and nodded.

"Thank you. Are you scared of me?"

Again, he nodded.

Mr. J put a finger under the boy's chin for some eye contact. "I know that was really weird and it freaked you out. But I super duper promise that I won't hurt you. I was a meanie. I need you to trust me, ok?"

"Ok," he whispered, a little uncertain.

"Good. Now, there is a little mess in the bed that is my fault. I need to clean it up. We are both a little messy because of it. So, can we get out of this bed and take care of that now?"

Toby climbed out of bed as Mr. J turned on his bedside lamp. The boy's legs shone like they were oiled up and those underoos had some wet spots to them. He was inspecting what his teacher had left all over him. Toby seemed to conclude that he didn't know what to think of it.

The uncertain pair moved to the bathroom. Warm water and a washcloth was prepared. Unceremoniously, Mr. J had tossed his boxers aside as they were also wet. He had leg-fucked the boy already, so nudity was the least of his concerns now. His cock had remained at half mast, making the cleaning process much easier. A few wipes later and the residue was gone.

Toby watched with rapt attention and had pulled his own underpants down in preparation. Even so long after, his own little penis had some stiffness in it. The boy's confused mind continued to ponder this reality as he absent-mindedly fiddled with it. As he watched his teacher clean up, he built up the courage to ask his question. "Why is it like that?"

Mr. J looked up, not expecting anything but non-verbal responses from a shy and possibly traumatized boy. "What?"

"Why did it get like that?" Toby had stopped watching Mr. J and had drifted to staring at his own erection.

"Well, that's what happens to a boy's penis when he sees something he really likes or feels something he likes." Mr. J never lied to his students. Chose his language carefully, but never lied.

"Why did yours?"

Mr. J paused for a moment. "A bit of both, I think."

Toby nodded, still staring down his stomach.

"Alright. Your turn. Do you mind if I wipe your legs clean?"

"You can."

Mr. J rewet the cloth and knelt down before his half-naked bed companion. The cum was starting to dry and had dripped half way down his legs. So his hand rose up Toby's leg, wiping away the offending fluids. He stopped just shy of his genitals, as Toby was still occupied with them. With it all gone, he couldn't help but address the extra half-inch in front of his face. "So you got one too, huh?"

Toby's face turned beet red. He nodded.

"Do you understand why yours got like mine?"

"I don't know."

Mr. J glanced down, trying to think of what to do. "Well, when we were cuddling, did you feel warm and comfy then?"

A nod.

"What about when you woke up?"

A nod.

"Then there was something between your legs. Did that make you feel funny?"

A nod.

"Then I touched it. Did it get stiffer then?"

More nodding.

"Well, did you... like it when it got touched?"

"I don't know," he said at last.

Mr. J sighed. Was it worth pursuing? Toby looked so lost about it. As selfish as it was to say yes, perhaps Toby needed to know for himself. "Ok, well, maybe you got a little scared because I was doing something weird. Do you want to see if that is why?"

"...maybe."

"If you don't want to, it is ok. I promise nothing bad will happen."

"...ok."

"Now sit on the edge of the bed and spread your legs for me."

Toby was straddled on the corner with his butt shoved up to the tip. A big hand drew shivers off of the surface of his tummy as it stroked him gently. Nervous as he was, Mr. J was probably right. That much, he had determined almost immediately.

"Now close your eyes and relax."

All he could see was the glowing colors left from the light by the bed on his eyelids. Two fingers traced the meeting point of his leg and stomach down and cupped his little balls. At first, they were tight to him, but lowered down in response to the heat that grew between them. Toby rocked his hips a little into Mr. J's palm, strangely entranced by the touch. When the pad of his thumb gently met his boyhood, he let out a little gasp.

With the caring touch of a lover, Mr. J stroked little Toby from base to tip, milking any uncertainty from his body. The sight of this beautiful six-year old boy with his head hanging back, puffy lips parted, and his chest rising and falling with the movements happening below was incredible. Mr. J was hard again, but had no intention of worrying about that. It was Toby's turn now.

Without ever removing his hand from Toby's crotch, Mr. J pulled his back up and laid him down flat on the bed. Increasing the speed a little, he began to massage under Toby's little circumcised cock head. Even like this, Mr. J's hand reached past the soft sack, getting close to where the boy's ass began. As eager as Mr. J was to see if Toby might enjoy anal anything, it was no good to scare the boy any more than he already had.

A gasp and a whimper sounded as he felt lips and tongue on his neck. His legs and his back arched, but soon relaxed as his teacher began to explore his upper body too. Kisses, licks, and nibbles danced around his neck and shoulders, his chest and nipples. With so much sensation, Toby's hips gyrated into the two fingers that wrapped around his cocklet and started jacking him.

An erotic giggle and squirm hit the kindergarten boy as tongue met belly button. Mr. J wormed himself down and sucked at the innie concave. Wiggling and pushing himself into his teacher's expert hands, his breath quickened, growing ever closer to something he did not have words for.

All of a sudden, it was all gone. No more hands, no more kisses. Toby's breathing slowed and his eyes started to open. And then he felt it. A warm, wet heat enveloped him. Slithery something was on his dick, stroking and rubbing. He pulled his head up just enough to see Mr. J's head between his legs. His balls soon followed suit, joining the raging little cock in that warm place. Toby's legs popped up, squeezing on Mr. J's face. Twitching and jumping, Toby's penis dueled with the tongue that chased it as young hips pushed up off the bed to get more of the new sensations.

Taking a globe in each hand, Mr. J was happy to oblige. Pushing his face as far into the boy's hips as possible, he sucked with all of his strength and masturbated that baby rod with his tongue and lips. Little hands grabbed the back of a big head. Toby whimpered and gasped, writhed and twisted. Mr. J had to lift his butt off of the bed to stop him from accidentally yanking away.

With a mighty sucking of air and a labored moan, Toby pushed his hips up as far as he could. Everything from his feet to his head quaked with pleasure before finally falling limp in the hands of the man who caused it all. His tiny, already soft cocklet fell free of its moist prison and his rear gently returned to the edge of the bed. Legs and feet still dangled off of the edge. Even though it was over, Mr. J still massaged his boy parts while his breath was caught.

After a few mesmerizing minutes watching Toby recover from his first orgasm, Mr. J couldn't help but ask. "So, Toby, have you figured out the answer?"

"Y-yeah..."

"Did you feel something you liked?"

"Y-yes."