Johnny

Chap. 2: Academic Probation

Story code: F/m, older woman/younger man, masturbation, maternal domination, authoritative/reluctance, mild humiliation/teasing, big natural breasts, nursing fetish, mild femdom, nurturing.

All characters depicted in this story are 18 years or older.

Synopsis: An 18 year-old high school student is sent to his academic advisor's office for some hands-on counseling in the hopes that it will inspire him to pickup his flagging grades.

Copyright © 2008-2011, Soulstroker (a.k.a. Magnifico Giganticus). ALL Rights Reserved.

Johnny was a very smart young man. In fact he was so smart that his high school subjects bored him. With all his intelligence, one would think that Johnny would have aced his way right through high school, but the truth was that he rarely ever got an 'A' in his classes. The problem lay in the fact that Johnny suffered from depression, which manifested itself as a total lack of motivation or interest in his high school lessons. Johnny wouldn't discuss this with anyone. He even managed to convince himself that his attitude and lack of self-motivation was just a phase he was going through. All teenage boys are supposed to be lazy and bored easily—right?

As a result, Johnny was very distressed when half-way through 6th period, a note arrived summoning him to the academic counselor's office. At St. Justin High School, students were required to visit with one of the three academic counselors at least once every school year. As a senior Johnny had already met with his counselor in each of his pervious high school years, but each time he had made an appointment. This was the first time he had ever been called out of class to see them. As Johnny walked slowly down the empty halls, he quickly reasoned that his sagging GPA must be the reason why he had been called. He had been a pretty good student in his freshman year, but by the end of his junior year he had dipped below a 2.0 GPA. As he neared the counselor's office, he began to formulate what he would say to his councilor, he needed plausible excuses for why his grades were dropping, and why it wasn't his fault. He was becoming more and more nervous with each step and began repeating his excuses in his mind to himself. As the door came in view his silent litany suddenly came to a halt as he remembered the name of the counselor assigned to him, Mrs. Baggends. Contrary to the kind sounding name, Mrs. Baggends was an old German battleaxe who seemed to have been ripped right out of some children's fairy tail. She was harsh, mean, ill-tempered—in short, Johnny couldn't imagine any evil step-mothers or wicked witches being much worse. Standing before the office door, the prospect of the approaching encounter let him to continue his litany with renewed vigor. With a clammy hand, he finally reached for the door handle and entered the office.

The academic counselors' offices were actually one large room. Five-foot tall dividers (the kind popular in Dilbert cartoons) had been used to form a small reception area and three small offices for each of the counselors. During either of the two lunch periods, (4th for under, and 5th of upper classmen) this place was packed with students, now however it was totally empty. Upon entering, Johnny looked down at the receptionist, who sat behind a small desk next to the door, and announced himself. The receptionist was a student herself, who for some insane reason had chosen to do this job as her elective this quarter. Johnny recognized her as Rebecca the Jewish girl from his 3rd period religion class. She stuck out in Johnny's mind because she was one of the few non-Catholic students at St. Justin's and she had been quite vocal in the class they shared. Beyond her ethnicity, she was also one of the more beautiful girls in school. Her dark eyes and pale milky skin gave her a mystical quality which only accentuated a long graceful neck and a head of thick dark hair that curled at the tips, deliciously hugging her soft jaw line. Rebecca was also well developed for a girl her age, already sporting the curves of a woman which were the talk of the boy's locker room. While Johnny couldn't see the rest of her figure at the moment, she certainly had an ample bosom which seemed to settle on the desktop every time she exhaled.

"Johnny is it," she asked looking up from her appointment book, "aren't you one of Mrs. Baggends' students?"

"Um, yes, yes that's right, she's my academic counselor. I got this note in class saying I should come here for an advising session," Johnny stammered with his usual shyness as he held out the note for her to see.

"Well that's strange, Mrs. Baggends has been sick all week—"

Someone in the cubicle directly behind Rebecca spoke up from behind the divider.

"It's alright Rebecca, I sent for him. Come on in my office Johnny," came a female voice.

Rebecca smiled and pointed to the office entrance to the left behind her. Johnny nodded and walked in. The cramped office contained a file cabinet, some bookshelves, an overlarge desk, opposite which was a small beaten up old couch. Behind the desk sat a lady he had never actually met before, but knew to be one of the other academic councelors. She looked to be in her early 30s by Johnny's guess. While far from fat, she had a pleasant roundness about her, with a large rear and top that accentuated the tick curves of her narrower middle. She was dressed in a modern gray business outfit with a jacket that closed in a 'V' over her rather pronounced chest. Her shoulder length brown hair was cut in an old fashioned style, lending severity to her otherwise friendly-looking oval face. Overall she was a strange mix of old and new which for some reason reminded Johnny of his mother, though her facial features were nothing like his mother's.

She looked up with a professional smile and motioned to the couch, "Have a seat while I finish this paperwork real quick."

Johnny nodded solemnly and cringed so as to avoid knocking over anything as he navigated to the couch in the confined space. The cushions made loud embarrassing squeaking noises as he sank into the old couch. He sat so low, he was barely eye level with the surface of her desk. He felt uncomfortable in this position and was very self-aware of the extra pounds his own frame carried. At 6'3" and 265 pounds, Johnny was not a small guy by anyone's standards. For a few moments the only sound in the office was the scratching of led on paper. Johnny sat there watching the woman write. The 'V' of her business suit would bulge open every now and then with the fierceness of her writing, revealing brief glimpses of the jiggling cleavage hidden within. Johnny began to sweat a little more as his teenage mind began to realize that this round—almost matronly—lady actually had attributes that were incredibly erotic to him.

The woman finished and looked up quickly—too quickly for Johnny. However, instead of announcing his guilty stare by abruptly looking away, he kept on staring at the front of her jacket as if pretended looking at her nearby hand as she was writing. He only looked up at her face after she had begun to speak. The bluff seemed to have worked.

"Now then young man, I am Mrs. Boneham," she announced loudly, "your file has been transferred into my care. It seems that you've been ignoring your schoolwork and landed yourself on Academic Probation last quarter." She paused briefly before continuing, "when promising students go on AP we usually give them one quarter to correct themselves. However, I've been talking to your teachers, and they say your quiz and test scores this year haven't improved. Now, do you have anyway to explain this poor performance Johnny?"

Looking up at Mrs Boneham from the sagging couch Johnny was taken off guard by the sudden start of her interrogation, but managed to eventually answer, "Um, well Mrs. Boneham I know I've been struggling and, um—"

Johnny was about to launch into his well practiced litany of excuses but she cut him off: "Indeed you have young man. Now I'll be up front with you. We counselors here break up the students we see into two basic groups: Mrs. Baggends handles all the good students who have a long track record of good academic standing and Ms. Burgville handles the students who are obviously never going to shape up and simply coast their way through St. Justin with no hopes for bright futures. The choice is up to you—we can guide you, but only you are able to determine which group you fall into."

Johnny tried to reply but Mrs. Boneham went on, "Now there is a third group Johnny, which is where you and I come in. Some of the brighter students sometimes seem to fall from grace as it were. It's my job to catch them, and if possible, correct their wayward ways and put them back on the right path. I think I can help you, but for me to do so, we will have to work together. You have to want to correct yourself. You have to want my help and be willing to work with me to make it happen. Can you do that Johnny?" She finally stopped and waited for him to answer.

"Y-y-y yes, yes I can do that Mrs. Boneham. I-I want to be on the right path." He stammered, relieved that the direction of the conversation was going in a direction in which he seemed to be blameless.

"That's real good Johnny", she said with a cocked eyebrow, "Because frankly I don't have the luxury to waste time on a slacker who won't give me one hundred percent." She let here statement hang in the air for a few seconds as they stared at each other.

"Now we're going to sit down and figure out what went wrong with you. I don't want any excuses, and I don't want any lies. You need to be honest with me if our relationship is going to work. Now, tell me honestly, what do you think is the problem? Is something outside your academic life troubling you? How are things at home?"

"Um, e-e-everything is fine at home Mrs. Boneham," Johnny stammered, worried that he once again had to produce answers.

"I see, well how about your social life, then? Is there a bully or a group of kids who pick on you? I can't see anyone trying something with someone your size."

"Well, n-no no, not at all Mrs. Boneham. At least I can't think of any," he spoke up.

"Well there has to be something young man. Looking at your transcripts from you first two years you managed a 3.2 GPA. While that's not an Ivy League number, it certainly shows you were a good student. A GPA like that doesn't just drop like a stone for no reason," she spoke loudly in an earnest attempt to make her point. "Can you think of any reason for this drop off in production?" With her last statement Mrs. Boneham leaned forward sharply for emphasis and her over-large bosom was driven against the top of her desk. The 'V' of her jacket bulged open wantonly before Johnny's eyes. Panic set in and Johnny began to sweat profusely as he willed himself not to look at the exposed female flesh.

Waveringly, he said "w-well, um, there may be something thing..."

As Johnny let his statement hang in the moist, uncomfortable silence, his gaze slide slowly downwards against his will, to the deep and inviting cleavage on display. It was as if his eyes had a mind of their own, and at a critical moment they decided to betray him. In horror he quickly looked back up at Mrs. Boneham's oval face, panic now clearly showing on his own face. The counselor had traced his gaze a moment before, and briefly showed surprise; but that was quickly brought under control as her faced darkened with anger. In a quite, ominous tone she asked, "and what would that be?"

Johnny lost all measure of control and began to blubber, "W-w-w well you know. Um, sometimes, um, I have trouble dealing with people. Um, like, like, like, I can't talk to them. I freeze up, or, or, or, or—." Terror and humiliation had hard-locked his ability to articulate his thoughts. It only loosened after he consciously gave up, and only then tried again. A moment later he sighed disparagingly and finished, "I come off sounding like an idiot." He hung his head down in disgust and shame—ready for the onslaught of anger which was sure to come from the councelor.

Mrs. Boneham rocked back in her chair with her hands supporting the back of her head. She gazed thoughtfully at the mournful Johnny. She reflected on her 11 years in the education field, 8 of them spent at St. Justin's, and realized that this case seemed very similar to a number of other boys. All of them exhibited a pattern of shyness, helplessness, low self esteem, awkwardness in social situations—in short all the things she had seen thus far from Johnny. She wasn't one hundred percent certain though. She had to confirm her hunch. She decided to bluff.

"Them?" She asked poignantly, "don't you mean girls?"

Johnny's head shot up, shocked at the keen perception of the councelor's question. In less then two minutes she had plucked out the kernel of his mystery—he wasn't simply shy, just awkward around the opposite sex. He felt as if he had been punched in the face. His wide-eyed, opened-mouth stare was all the conformation Mrs. Boneham needed. Inwardly she grinned in satisfaction, she had been right. On the outside, only a knowing smirk played across her face. As the silence hung a moment longer, Mrs. Boneham recalled other elements of the profile Johnny exhibited:

Prone towards mood disorders, introverted, lack of motivation, often coming from a matriarchally-dominated home, submissive towards female authority figures, extreme awkwardness with peers of the opposite sex, emotionally self-abusive, hedonistic, heightened libido, often prone towards escapisms and various addictions—especially

compulsive masturbation

.

She suppressed a smile as she recalled the last fact. This was no laughing matter she chided herself inwardly. This boy needed her help if she wanted to give him a promising future. It was up to her to save him, to guide him towards that future. Due to the many such cases she had handled, she knew the key to helping Johnny was through the manipulation of his sex drive coupled with his reverence for female authority figures. Mrs. Boneham actually enjoyed these types of cases best and had unofficially made their treatment her specialty; soon after starting her chosen vocation, she had realized it was these cases specifically that drew her to the field. Relishing what she knew would develop over the coming weeks and months, Mrs. Boneham decided in an instant that there was no time like the present to administer his initial treatment.

At last Johnny recovered enough to attempt a response. His eyes threatened to overflow with tears as he softly stuttered, "I, I, I, don't know what you mean Mrs. B—"

"Oh, come, come Johnny, don't lie to me. You promised to be truthful, remember," she cut him off.

Johnny started babbling again as he attempted to protest his innocents. As he went on, Mrs. Boneham got up to stand between the desk and the Johnny. Standing tall above him, she looked down at the helpless youth. She decided to get right to the point, "Johnny, how often do you play with yourself? I bet it's a lot. Am I right?" Looking up at her smiling, knowing face, Johnny was once again frozen in embarrassment and fear.

"It's alright to admit it, you know," she said matter-of-factly, "most boys your age do it often, but I am willing to bet you do it much more, at least three times a day, probably more. Isn't that right Johnny?" She emphasized his name, using it like a hammer. For a moment longer, he still couldn't speak and Mrs. Boneham waited. Her training and experience had paid off, she had shocked him just enough so that he would be completely vulnerable for what would come next to sink in properly. She honestly felt sympathy for poor Johnny. She knew that over all he was just an innocent boy with a good heart who was having trouble coping with the changes his mind and body were enduring at this stage in his life. She honestly regretted toying with him like this, but it was for his own good. Besides, it was good practice for married life, she mused. She certainly wouldn't be the last woman to use his physical and psychological needs towards her own ends.

Staring at his face the entire time, she could tell he was finally about to say something. Now was the time for the real therapy to move forward. Before he could get a sound out she placed a finger on his lips and hushed him as she left the desk and let herself sink into the couch next to him.

"Shhh, its alright Johnny. Shhhhh," she soothed him.

As if by magic, he suddenly stopped trying to talk, to defend himself. He stopped resisting her.

"Don't worry Johnny, there are ways to help special boys like you. You're not like everyone else, are you? You have special needs. I know how to help you, and with a lot of work, I think you will be ok again. We're going to have to work together, and I'm going to need your very best effort, alright?"

Johnny nodded meekly. He had always felt "different" somehow. He was so grateful for her compassion, so relieved at her understanding and apparent lack of anger for his inappropriate behavior. At this point would do what ever she told him. Mrs. Boneham smiled her pretty face at him, "alright then," and started to unbuckle his pants, "help me get these pants off, we have a lot of work to do." Emotionally exhausted beyond the means to express himself, Johnny numbly allowed her to work on his buckle, his eyes wide with unspoken trepidation of what this strange but compassionate woman was going to do to him. She firmly placed her hands on his thigh urging him to lift his buttocks, which he did automatically, though in the lethargic manner of reluctance. "There's a good boy," she soothed carefully, the way a mother would sooth a child who needed to have its blood drawn, her eyes constantly on his to gage his current state. She slid down both his pants and his boxers in one motion. His flaccid penis was starting to stir as it came into view. She smiled knowingly and remarked, "Your willy sure seems to know what's coming next." Before he could contemplate her meaning, Johnny suddenly thought he heard a stifled giggle roll softly from over the office divider. Mrs. Boneham seemed to have heard it too, as she paused momentarily, but seemed to put it out of her mind and continue. She quickly helped him take off his T-shirt, discarding it on the floor. She began caressing the inside of Johnny's naked thighs, then paused as if thinking of a better course of action. "Why don't we just take these nasty pants completely off," she asked herself and bent down to unlace his shoes. They were quickly discarded along with his pants and underwear. She then grabbed his left ankle and swiveled his body around on the couch so he was facing her. She rested his left leg on the back of the couch seat. "For easy access," she smiled reassuringly with a motherly pat on his knee. Situated between his spread-eagled knees, she indeed had easy access to his genitalia, and proceeded to take advantage of it. Mrs. Boneham leaned in for a closer look and began to nudge Johnny's slowly erecting member with a crooked finger. "Come on honey, make your willy nice and stiff for me. I know you want to," she remarked when she saw his penis was slow to fill with blood, currently being only at half mast. In his exhaustion Johnny couldn't even manage his usual stuttering, and simply sat silently with a worried look on his face. Mrs. Boneham saw the panic and shame in his eyes when confronted with his perceived inadequacies. She knew his "little problem" was only due to feelings of shame and that normally he could erect in seconds. But causing shame was part of the plan—she would gain untold control and devotion from him by absolving and freeing him of that shame as a kind and nurturing female authority figure. "Don't worry Johnny, I know what boys like you need. Your willy is playing hard-to-get, but I know just how to get it to cooperate," she remarked matter-of-factly.