MegaEvolvedJock: His Tutor?

Contents Title Page Copyright Dedication Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 8.5 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 15.5 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Epilogue - Two Years Later Stay in Touch About the Author Next in the Series—MegaEvolvedJock More Reading from Darklights Press Guide Contents Start of Content MegaEvolvedJock Boys of Simson U. Book 2 J. Allen Grady Copyright © 2023 by J. Allen Grady All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. The characters in this book are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. Many thanks to those who helped make this book possible, in particular Sue and Jenifer who provided feedback and editorial assistance! PROLOGUE FOUR-AND-A-HALF YEARS AGO Todd Malone I had lingered in the locker room longer than the other guys after basketball practice. I usually did. By the time I hit the showers, most of my teammates were dressing or already headed out. When I was younger, I had used this strategy because I was so afraid of popping a boner in the locker room and getting called a queer or something. That is what I was—bisexual was just as scary as gay to the locals. Not that I hated myself. I just knew it would be a problem with some of the guys. That was a problem I didn’t need, especially since there was no particular reason for me to come out. I spent all my time studying, working out and playing, or enjoying my private hobby. There weren’t any guys interesting and available enough that I was in a rush to come out. And I had my hands full with the girls at school, anyway. No, it wasn’t boner anxiety that made me wait for some privacy in the showers now. I’d already seen most of the guys on the team get hard in the shower once or twice. We all knew it meant nothing. No, I showered later and longer so I could pass the time. When I left, I could head straight from school to the meet up I’d looked forward to all week. And there would be no awkward questions about where I was heading off to, or whether I wanted to come out for pizza or something like that. I’m not a great liar, and I didn’t want to talk about meeting up with a strange group of guys to enjoy my secret shame. Curt, the tallish, thick ginger who always seemed to have a bag of potato chips and an extra large Mountain Dew; Ian, the quiet, usually second-string kicker on our cross-county rivals’ football team, who almost never spoke but, when things got hot and heavy, became one of the most aggressive guys in our little play group; Pete, whose bum leg meant he had to wear a brace that ensured he got picked on at school but who became an alpha when we were all in private; and a handful of other guys who were less regular attendees at our … sessions. For some of us, it was the only time we really let down our guard. “Todd, you still here?” Coach Cooper asked loudly. Surprised, I jumped and turned to face the speaker, water spraying my face, making it hard to see. I perceived the outline of the man where he stood, one hand on the tiled wall of the entryway. Wiping the water from my face, I saw he had an amused smile on his face. If I wasn’t mistaken, Coach Cooper had just finish giving my body a thorough look over. I fought back the instant desire to cover my junk with one hand. One hand certainly wasn’t enough for that task, though, and using two hands would have left me practically blind. “Uhm, yeah, coach,” I said. “Took the second shift, I guess…” Coach Cooper nodded. I could tell he thought he was being discreet, that I wouldn’t notice his eyes raking over my body again. I grew self-conscious. “I have to lock up,” he said. “But take your time. I’ve got nowhere else to be…” “I’ll hurry, coach,” I said nervously. “I’m … almost finished. I’ve got to run meet some friends.” “Expecting you, are they?” he asked with a smile. Normally, if I had met a guy like Coach Cooper out in the world, I would have thought he was cute. He was our assistant coach, a young teacher fresh out of college. Based on his height, he could easily have been an outstanding basketball player. But I heard he had only ever excelled at fetching towels and balls. No coordination—some tall guys just don’t have it. Still, it wasn’t surprising the administration had assigned someone like him to assist our coach. At my school, basketball fell somewhere between field-hockey and volleyball in the jock hierarchy, so we weren’t the first recipient of resources or personnel. We took warm bodies. I hadn’t finished my growth spurt yet. At 6’1”, I stood about eye-to-eye with Coach Cooper. While I was lanky—let’s be honest, at that point I was barely better than skinny—Coach Cooper was muscular, built like a gymnast. Maybe he had been. Either way, while he most certainly had not been basketball royalty when he had been in school, I’d have bet money on him having been a jock of some sort. I knew this because I had seen all of him pretty clearly. He sometimes changed in the locker room. Somehow, whenever he did that, he always seemed to be still finishing dressing about the time the first boys arrived or just beginning to undress when only a few of us remained at the end