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And those thoughts were definitely controlling my penis, which sprang into action like a well-trained dog. The trouble was that a whole heap of other thoughts were telling me how good it felt to be touched in the way that Scoutmaster Wheeler was touching me. Was this some sort of trick? Or a test? Was I meant to say something? A zillion thoughts started dancing about in my head. My face must have flushed the color of a ripe tomato. I’m no expert in these things – heck, I’ve never even kissed any one – but I’m pretty sure it’s not normal for a Scoutmaster to start feeling me up like that… especially scouting! And before I could get my thoughts in order, he was running his fingers up and down my torso in what could only be described as a pretty seductive manner. What I wasn’t expecting was for his hands to linger on my upper chest. He asked if I was willing to do everything he told me to do, and I must have said yes because, at that point, he told me to stand up, before attaching a pin to my uniform pocket. The simple thing, of course, would have been to say yes, but the fear took over and I started burbling. He sat me down opposite him and asked if I was ready. Why him? Why not one of the friendlier Scoutmasters? He makes me so nervous sometimes that I forget my own name! How was I ever going to remember the pledge?! When he called me into the office to take my pledge, my heart sank. He doesn’t smile that often and his eyes bore into you when he talks to you… I recently joined this troop, but I’ve been here long enough to know that he’s not like the other Scoutmasters. There’s something really strange about Scoutmaster Wheeler.