Dylan Bardsworthy had just moved to Bentley, New York and was trying desperately to make friends and fit in. It wasn't an easy thing for the normally shy Dylan to do, but he wanted so badly to make friends that he was ready to do anything. Unfortunately for Dylan, that led to him making a very bad decision one Friday evening.
....
Chapter One: Why me?
Dylan fought to hold back the tears that were welling up in his eyes as he watched the metallic gate going down at the entrance to the store. It was closing time, and the mall was now empty, with all the shoppers on their way home.
Dylan should have been gone with them, but something bad had just happened, and when the gate came down, Dylan was on the wrong side of it.
On the counter of the "It's Only A Buck" dollar store lay the reason he was being detained by the man that ran the store. It was a cheesy looking yellow necklace with 'WWJD?' stamped on it, and Dylan didn't even want it. He had grabbed it as a joke.
They had made him do it. That was what Dylan kept telling the man who had caught him as he tried to leave the store with the trinket in his pocket. The guys from his new neighborhood that he had come to the mall with had insisted that in order to be part of the group, he had to steal something.
Like everything else Dylan had tried to do to fit in, it hadn't gone well. While his so-called friends hooted and hollered as they ran out of the store, the mean looking man at the register had yelled at them to stop. Only one had stopped. Dylan.
Should have run, Dylan mused as the man locked up the cash drawer. Why did he stop? Force of habit, Dylan knew. Somebody in authority tell you to halt, you do it. The other guys didn't, and they were probably on their way home, laughing at him.
"What would Jesus do?" the bald man sneered as he held up the thing that Dylan had tried to swipe, looking down at him with disgust. "I don't think he'd steal, do you?"
"I'm sorry," Dylan sobbed. "I'll pay for it."
"You'll pay for it alright," the man agreed, grabbing Dylan by the shoulder and leading him to the back room.
...
Chapter Two: What else?
"Let me see some identification," the man said, and has Dylan took out his wallet the man grabbed it from him.
"Look at all this money," the man said, fanning through the bills in the wallet. "Must be 30 bucks here, and you're stealing a piece of crap like this?"
"I didn't want to. They kinda made me."
"Who did?" the man said, who was so much taller than Dylan that the young man was eye level with the name tag on his shirt, that identified him as Phil. "Did they steal too?"
"I think so," Dylan sniffed. "I don't know."
"Give me their names," Phil snapped.
"I can't."
"You mean you won't."
"No, I really don't know them. I just moved up here last month."
"Aren't we lucky?" Phil snarled. "As if Bentley hasn't got enough problems already?"
Dylan knew that he was screwed either way. If he ratted out his new friends, they would probably kick his ass. If he didn't, it might even be worse.
"Mister, there's $34 in there," Dylan said. "Take it."
"Why? It's not my money. Do you think I'm a thief or something?" Phil asked. "Or did you steal this money too?"
"No."
"Let's see here," the man said, looking at the out-of-state drivers license, with the picture of the kid that looked eerily like Harry Potter. "Dylan Bardsworthy. Weird name. Where have I hear that name before? Bardsworthy?"
Dylan scrunched up his face as he watched the man trying to remember, and when he recalled where he had heard the name, a big grin appeared.
"That's the new police chief's name, isn't it?" Phil chirped, and when he saw the pained expression on the lad's face he knew he was right.
"Won't Daddy be happy to hear about this!" Phil said as he pulled his phone out of his pants. "Usually when I catch a kid shoplifting I have to decide whether to call the cops or the parents. I guess we can get two birds with one stone here."
"PLEASE!" Dylan yelped, tears rolling down his face. "Don't. I'll do anything."
"Is that right?" Phil said, looking at the license again. "Oh! Let's see here. You aren't a kid anymore, so it's a real crime. You turned 18 last week, huh? Happy birthday. Maybe I'll give you a break."
"Thank you!" Dylan chirped.
"Not so fast," Phil said. "What else did you steal?"
"Nothing. I swear."
"I'm supposed to believe that a thief can't be a liar too?" Phil asked. "Take off your clothes."
"What?"
"I said take off your clothes," Phil snapped. "Take them off or I'm calling the police, and maybe the newspaper too. That would make an interesting headline."
Dylan pulled the t-shirt up and over his head, folding it neatly before setting it on the table. Phil looked over the lad, who was a bit effeminate as he moved. He was about 5'10 but was very skinny. His chest was scrawny and hairless, and his arms were reed thin as well. Dylan's long and scraggly hair almost reached the boniest pair of shoulders imaginable.
"Pants too," Phil said. "Empty the pockets too. Turn them inside out."
Dylan kicked off his sneakers and turned around as he unbuckled his belt so he could take his pants down. When Phil saw the bubble butt in the tight white underwear he took a deep breath, trying to keep his mind on business despite the distraction.
"Socks too," Phil reminded Dylan, who took the tall white athletic socks down, revealing the skinny calves which had only the faintest dusting of fine hair on their insides.
"I didn't say take off everything except your underwear," Phil said. "If they aren't off in five seconds I'm calling 911."
Phil chuckled as he watched Dylan hurriedly pull down his underwear with his back to him, folding everything up neatly afterward, even the socks. That butt was so round and smooth that Phil found himself getting aroused as he stared.
"Turn around. I want to make sure you didn't stick anything of mine up there," Phil demanded, reaching into the desk drawer and taking out a small tube. "Now bend over and spread them."
"Oh no," Dylan whined when he felt the cold finger first rubbing, and then penetrating his anus.
Phil's finger probed around the tight cavity, enjoying the reaction of the trembling teen who was so nervous that Phil could see the muscles in the back of Dylan's skinny thighs quivering while he checked for other stolen merchandise.
"Guess you're clean," Phil said. "Stand up like a man."
Dylan's face was all scrunched up as he shuffled his feet to face the man, still not able to make eye contact. Dylan's hands were cupped over his genitals, covering them from Phil's gaze, but he would have none of that.
"What are you hiding there?" Phil nodded toward Dylan's trembling hands.
"Nothing," Dylan whimpered.
"Move your hands! Phil barked, the tone and volume of his voice making Dylan jump. "You're starting to piss me off! Now put your hands on top of your head."
....
Chapter Three: Honesty is the best policy
"You were right," Phil chortled as he watched Dylan's hands slowly move away from his crotch, and it seemed like the young man's entire body was shaking as he put his hands on top of his head. "You weren't hiding anything after all."
Dylan cringed as the man mocked his modest-sized penis, which was trying to crawl into his intestines from fear.
"Stop your sobbing," Phil said. "Nothing worse than a baby."
The skinny teen has a cute body on him, Phil noted as he surveyed it closely. So soft and smooth looking, with just faint wisps of hair under his arms, the down on his calves, and the soap-pad sized tuft of hair above his dick.
"Turn around and bend over," Phil commanded. "Spread those cheeks for me. It's what you would be doing down at police headquarters anyway."
