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School Doctor Strips Schoolboys Ch. 01

By: aaronburr



This is a rewriting of my first story, School Doctor Sees Him Stiff, with lots more detail and drama. 

My readers might tremble at the view of one of my characters, the doughty female Doctor Speight, who declares to a naked and erect young man sitting in front of her, "Some boys and men get terribly excited at the thought of going naked...nude, in their birthday suits...bare as boards...like you are now...in the company of girls or women who are...fully dressed." 

Well, if that thought gets you going you will like this story, I'm sure.

*****

It happened over breakfast, in the Marcello household in Upper Elm. And it came from Johnny's sister. Without warning, in front of their Mom, as they ate their Corn Flakes, she said, "The boys at school? Like Johnny?"

That's all.

"The boys at school? Like Johnny?"

And she let the question hang there. 

They were all at the table: their mother, Johnny's younger sister, his kid brother and even his cousin the seminarian Brother Antony. They all paused and looked at the sassy, provocative girl. 

She liked having their attention. 

What was she getting at? 

Poor Johnny feared the worst. 

These days he was taunted by her non-stop. She was full of confidence, he was shy. He had remained a bashful kid until six months ago, just before he turned 18, when a growth spurt hit like rocket launch. One morning he woke up with a man's voice, a scratchy baritone. Overnight he had sprouted hair on his upper lip although his mother would not allow him to shave and his sister teased him about the hair that might be appearing elsewhere on his body.

He was no longer a boy but a now a handsome young man with Italianate good looks. Johnny had got muscles and would flex in the mirror, transfixed by the V-shape of his new torso and the ball-like bulges of his biceps. He had ridge lines on his tummy, pecs like slabs of meat. But his sister was homing on one particular muscle.

She seemed to know all about erections: when he was watching TV she would grab him to drag him to his feet. When he resisted she stepped up the teasing, "Oh, I see, our brother doesn't want to stand up. Wonder if it's because he's got something stretching down there?"

Truth was he usually had something stretching down there. His penis had been three inches stiff when he had last measured it, that is, before his growth spurt; now it was a thick six. He seemed erect most of the time. Shameful fantasies danced in his mind, all about being naked in front of dressed females. Armed with these mental movies he masturbated throughout the day. His nocturnal emissions stained sheets and pyjamas.

Now his sister had a revelation at the breakfast table.

"Guess what? Boys are gonna have medicals at school..."

She had their attention.

"...medicals for the boys...and the doctor...guess what? It's...a...WOMAN DOCTOR!" She chortled.

Johnny choked on his toast.

His sister beamed, giving her brother a laser look right in the eyes.

He blushed. Shuffled. Looked down.

"Well," said their mother. "That's how it goes. We have women doctors and they visit schools."

"But it's BOYS! She'll examine the BOYS! And she'll make 'em STRIP! Make the boys take all their clothes off! IN FRONT OF HER!"

Johnny fled the table. To his room, to grab his stuff and head to school.

There he found the rumor running strongly.

Johnny's tummy flipped as his mates confirmed what his sister said over breakfast. Apparently this doctor was about to arrive at the school and, yes, boys would be required to strip for her. Apparently it had happened at other schools. These female school doctors make boys strip totally nude, and you get weighed, and walk up and down, and sit on the table, and lie on it, so she can see all your dick and balls and so she can inspect your ass and then she makes you stand in front of her while she squeezes your balls and lifts your dick...all in the nude. One hundred percent stripped!

Shit! 

Do...boys...get...hard? This was an even greater anxiety. Yes, came the answer, boys get stiff especially when she touches their cocks and balls.

There had been silence. Until one of the fellas added, "And know what? We'll be lucky if one of the female teachers at the girls' school doesn't walk in. Or one of the girls gets to help as a volunteer nurse. That's happened before!"

All week at the school boys buzzed about the impending medicals. Some boys like Johnny had learnt about it from their sisters. The girls seemed to know all about it- right down to the name of the doctor, a stern middle aged lady called Ida Elisabeth Speight. One girl said she was the world's expert in the bodies of male teenagers and had written books on the subject, someone else that she worked for Dr Kinsey who had written a book on the sex lives of boys and men. 

Several girls said she was the same Doctor Ida Elisabeth Speight who lectured at mothers' clubs on discipline for juvenile delinquents and how nude punishment by mothers was one cure. Another girl said she had read about the doctor and her theories in The Ladies Home Journal. It contained shocking new information about the extent of masturbation among teenage boys caused by the prevalence of indecent books and magazines. There were rumors that a senior girl- in fact, the captain of the girls' school, the blond bombshell, Irene Livingstone- might be given some role in the procedure: the doctor was said to favour this. Irene was certainly a natural leader, trusted by all female staff, who had been given authority to punish junior boys with a ruler. One boy had heard that a mother would be invited to be present during a boy's nude examination. Even be invited to bring a relative- a Grandmom or aunt.

Johnny had nearly swooned.

In Wainsbright the boys' and girls' schools were side by side, separated by a fence, sometimes sharing facilities. The news got out that for their examinations boys were going to have to go into the girls' school; their examination was to be held in its infirmary. That's where the visiting female doctor had based herself. They would be summoned to her presence in alphabetical order. In fact two junior girls would go to the relevant boy's classroom with the boy's name on a slip. Then, escorted by the two junior girls, the summoned boy would walk out of his school into the adjacent girls' school. He would cross its grounds, walk through its corridors, right into the infirmary.

The boys were 18 so they towered above the junior girls but always held their blushing faces to the ground. The girls walked on either side of them making the boys feel like prisoners being taken off to the Amazons. They tried to catch the boys' eyes, grinning as if to say that they knew exactly what was about to happen. But when the party entered the girls' school there was worse to come- milling groups of mature young ladies, lots of mocking of the single boy and there were girls the boy knew- sisters and cousins and neighbours and friends of sisters.

There was ribald commentary, nudging and whispering. "You'll be outta those pants before long!" Or, "She'll have you stripped in a minute flat!" 

Towards the end of the week the first boys in Johnny's class started to get called out of the classroom, to be escorted by two junior girls to the infirmary over in the adjacent girls' school. Tommy Driscoe, a tall well-proportioned swimmer, told some of the boys including Johnny that Doctor Speight had ordered him to go behind a screen and "strip right off." He emerged with underpants and she had told him to take them off. He had to pull them down with her looking and she made him hand them over. He said she had stared as his cock and balls came into view. So...total stripping did take place. That was the first revelation.

She had then examined him up and down for what seemed an eternity while she sat in front of him on a stool. Eventually she had him stand back to the wall to have his height recorded. By this time- standing back to the wall- he had got an erection. His was circumcised, silky smooth, leaning to the left. A transverse stiffie. Hard as rock.

But worse had happened: to his horror the woman who served as secretary to the principal of the girls' school had walked in, a tall, willowy spectacled lady they all knew and were terrified of. She apparently hated boys. Miss Assam had come to talk to the doctor about some scheduling...and while the doctor had consulted her diary the nasty Miss Assam had taken long contemptuous looks at Tommy, standing by the wall with his seven inch transverse rod up, pulsing, aslant. Tommy said the cruel lady seemed to have been fascinated by his thing; he felt her eyes all over it. Roaming every inch.

Worse: Miss Assam had left the door to the infirmary wide-open- he thought deliberately, viciously- and three senior girls, books under arms, had strolled by and stopped dead! "Oh My God!" their looks seem to say. Their goggling eyes focused right at his prick. They giggled behind cupped hands. 

Too late he had clamped his own over his erection. Not being aware of the girls, Dr Speight had said, in a weary tone of voice, "Hands by your side, Tommy." He stuttered out a "But..." Then gave up and dropped them, exposing his upright, left-leaning penis again, while Miss Assam had stared and grinned cruelly. And out of sight of the ladies the girls stared, nudged one another and giggled. He had the impression they had never seen an erect penis before. Finally Miss Assam backed out. Both she and Dr Speight had then seen the staring girls and smilingly waved them away. Smilingly. "It was all a joke to them." 

Miss Assam had seemed overjoyed that the girls had looked in and caught him nude and erect. He would not forget her contemptuous, sneering look. Or her intense, wide-eyed focus on his prick.

The doctor then spent a lot of time feeling his penis.

"Know what?"

He told the boys in a hushed voice that, back lying on the table with her feeling his long cock- pressing the glans to make the urethra open, gripping the base- she had commented on the oblique angle of his stiff rod. "No two are alike," she told him. "Your erect penis takes a left-leaning slant but that has no effect on function...intercourse with your wife will be perfectly normal. On examination, every boy is different." 

In fact she showed every sign of relishing its length and shape. But one squeeze of his penis stem too many and he had ejaculated- all of a sudden he unloaded! It just shot out! Whoosh! Splop! All over his torso! Filling the cavity on his chest, like an iced pond in winter. He had frozen with shock. Surveying the big deposit the doctor had gone, "Tut, tut, tut." 

With the forest-fresh smell of his emission flavouring the air, she then asked him whether being seen by Miss Assam and the girls had made him excited. He had shamefully admitted it had; after all, he had needed an explanation. She just shook her head. She had scooped up his sperm with a beaker and wiped him clean.

Under a blond crew cut, another boy, Eddie Whyte, had the short punchy physique of a serious wrestler and the shifty look of a boy with secrets. He took Johnny aside near the school lockers and eagerly shared his experience. He said he got his hardon lying on his back on the examination table. Eddie was always erect in the showers and Johnny was familiar with his rather unusual penis: a very wide six inches, its very small crown stretched by this width. Indeed the broad heft of his appendage looked exotic with such a tiny glans planted on top. 

Breathless, Eddie reported Doctor Speight seemed deeply fascinated; she had handled it, squeezed it, especially the head, and tapped it up and down and pressed it hard on half a dozen spots. She made him get up and walk the room with his penis pointing parallel to the floor- sticking out in front of him- and then made him stand in front of her while she sat on a small stool with rollers.

She was examining the broad stem of his cock and told him he had "a very pronounced dorsal vein." He was embarrassed and didn't know what to say or where to look. She had asked him about masturbation. At first he pretended he didn't know what it meant. She had looked him in the eye and declared, "I don't think you get a dorsal vein this large, or as many wrinkles on your stem, without a lot of manipulation. If you lie about it I may have to speak to your mother. It's an unhealthy activity." 

The doctor had a ravenous scientific interest in the subject of masturbation, it seemed, and insisted on answers until he conceded- like a police suspect under interrogation- that he did indeed masturbate. He said he could not help it. In answer to more questions- he did not share this with Johnny- he said that he got stimulated whenever he took his clothes off and saw his new muscles in the mirror and whenever he wrestled boys and showered with them afterwards.

"Nudity excites you and then you manipulate yourself until you ejaculate?" she had asked him with distaste, looking at his rock hard six fat inches and small distended glans. The shape of the penis seemed to indicate masturbatory rites. "And you have dirty thoughts as you do it?" His downcast expression indicted him. "What sort of thoughts?" She was relentless. He considered the spectrum of his mental home movies, each one a reel he could take off a shelf and spool through his mind. Finally he whispered, "Boys...wrestling, with no clothes." 

And she had pressed him, "With no clothes? In the buff...?" The way she said it, made it sound filthy.

"Yes," he confessed. "That...sometimes...excites me, nude wrestling."

"Do you think about their private parts? Of the boys, the boys you want to wrestle, when you play with yourself?"

There was silence.

"Yes. Sorta."

The doctors eyes took a thoughtful, faraway look.

She had then pronounced sentence. She said she wanted him to masturbate now, into a plastic beaker. 

He felt he had no choice. Shamedly, he had started with his eyes shut moving slowly, then faster. She had held the beaker at the tip of his cock and, when he exploded, managed to catch all his emission apart from the stream that trailed down his stem. He watched as she held the contents up to the light.

But Eddie said that his cousin Davey had had the most humiliating experience by far. He was a long, lanky kid, the spitting image of Hollywood star Carleton Carpenter famous for "Abba Dabba Honeymoon." She had sent him behind the screen to "strip everything off." But he was shy and nervous. He emerged in boxers. She looked the funny, beanstalk thin fella up and down and remarked on how he had a lot of hair on his tummy. He did in fact have a thick pelt running from his navel. He blushed. She said, "Don't worry. I'll be examining your body hair." Then...she told him to pull his shorts off. He had asked if he could keep them. "Miss...I get...embarrassed." 

She told him not to be silly, that she sees naked boys all the time. He had stayed frozen, close to tears. She had marched over to him, bent down and taken his shorts by the hem, paused to look him in the eye and then whisked them down...Whoosh! She told him to step out. He blushed beetroot red, her hair had grazed the tip of his cock. She stood back and took in the sight of his nudity. He had a big burst of pubic bush, like cotton wool, camouflaging his small privates. She stared, frowning. She had made him walk around nude, watching him carefully.

She then sat on the stool and made him stand in front. She reached out and started cupping and fingering his testicles, hidden in his bush. He had gotten stiff in a few quick jerks, a stubby hardon that was very red, with a pointed head. He was very awkward now, especially as his penis pointed right into her face. Inches from her nose.

At that very moment a senior girl, Irene Livingstone, had walked in with the doctor's tea and milk on a tray, her afternoon tea. Her blond hair reached her shoulders. She was a full-bodied, assured girl, the admired school captain in fact. Her eyes had popped when she saw Davey. She nearly dropped the tray. She stopped and stared, holding the tray, her jaw open. Irene had visited his home, played with his sisters, been teased by him when they were younger. 

She was seeing a boy she knew stark naked. Tall, thin as a rake, blushing his head off. In his birthday suit. And with a small penis pointing to the ceiling. Her lips curled in a smile. Her eyes blazed. Davey wanted to drop dead.

Doctor Speight asked Irene to stay and help by writing down results on a clipboard. Davey went to splutter a protest but choked. Irene agreed. Her eyes were shining.

For a while the Doctor had kept examining his prick and balls. Made him cough while she pressed a finger behind his scrotum. She then asked Irene to bring a tape measure from the desk and...

The doctor had proceeded to measure his prick. The underside length first, talking to Irene who held a clipboard and pen.

"In the space for ventral length, please write four and three quarter..."

Davey caught Irene grinning as she wrote his measurement down. 

"...inches and for dorsal length, write...let's see..."

Irene watched the doctor extend the tape from the pubic bone to the tip of his pointy glans.

"Four! Goodness, is that right? I'll do it again...yes, that's all...four. Four inches."

Davey who had often measured himself wanted to shout that he was just short of five! But he saw Irene with a wide grin looking him in the eye. And the doctor now measured his circumference.

Irene Livingstone now knew his most intimate secret. She knew the look of his dick and its measurement.

Doctor Speight then told him to lie on the table. The wretched boy clambered up, lay down. On instruction, he placed his hands behind his head. He was completely exposed. The doctor put on gloves and started running her fingers all over his upper thighs- it tickled- and in his armpits! Then, legs again, lightly, up and down his thighs and calves. Then her fingers flicked through his pubic bush. Which meant her fingers moved around under his very hard erection! All the time she would say, "Tanner four" or "Tanner five" which was some measure of hairiness. As he lay there all Davey could think was that Irene Livingstone was seeing close-up his small prick, stubby with a pointed crown, and red.

Then the doctor made him haul his legs up and pull them back by the knees so she could look...in his ass! Oh god! He was exposing his...underneath! "Can't see anything...it's so hairy!" she lamented. Her gloved fingers fluttered through the bush and zig zagged across the raised line of his raphe, and flickered at the rear of his balls. "Tanner six," she pronounced. "Yes, for his intergluteal cleft, write Tanner six. Quite a growth of hair in there...full of hair, in his intergluteal." 

He caught the girl's smile. Irene Livingstone now knew he had a hairy ass. Irene looked him right in the eye, grinning like a crocodile.

As they finished their paperwork the doctor said, "Now as you see Irene, young Davey here is all embarrassed because he has an erection..."

Irene looked puzzled. Or pretended to.

"An erection. That's when a boy's penis lengthens and thickens as Davey's has, and it stands up...to have a look around! To take a peek!" They both laughed and looked from the boy's rigid rod into his frightened eyes to humiliate him some more. Davey felt under pressure to join them in a weak collaborative smile. 

Irene now leant closer and peered in at Davey's penis- she seemed to exaggerate the pose as if acting a role in a school play. The pathetic erection was showing off its underbelly. She nodded, learning closer still. Her breath rustled his pubic hair. "Yes, that artery is his ventral vein," said the doctor. "Full of blood at the moment, that's what causes his organ to get stiff. Quite a mechanism, isn't it?"


School Doctor Strips Schoolboys Ch. 01



Irene was a popular girl. She dated boys, and had a fondness for athletes. Some said she engaged in "heavy petting" which seemed to mean a lot back seat nudity. This was not her first sighting of a penis. 

Her question was therefore mock innocent.

"Doctor, is Davey's penis..."

Her pause was cruel.

"...smaller than other boys'?"

"Well, Irene, they come in all sizes. But Davey's is the smallest I have seen at this school. In fact..."

Davey came close to fainting. Irene had locked eyes with him. She was smiling.

"...the smallest I have seen in some time."

Davey wanted to shout a protest. He had seen smaller! Hell, big athletes too, tall fellas with a bare three inches stiff! But now Irene had a weapon to deploy- with his sisters, with other girls at school, with girls in his street, with his mother!

The doctor then gave the girl a guided tour of Davey's ballsack. She told Irene that a scrotum was "a muscular sack hanging beneath the penis." The doctor found Davey's stones among his hair. She held the skin and its contents up, as if inspecting some fabric on display in a department store. She explained how some boys- Davey being an example- had their scrotums tighten when their penis hardens. "Look," she said, "Young Davey's scrotum has almost vanished," and they both leaned in close while the doctor cupped the bag and bounced it slightly and looked back at Irene. "The loose skin has been pulled up by the stretching of his penis stem." Davey had flushed with shame and clenched his eyes shut.

He said the final embarrassment was when, lying there, she had quizzed him about masturbation. With Irene standing behind, grinning over the doctor's shoulder, Doctor Speight had got him to admit he was a masturbator. She then closed in with a series of quick questions. How often? Once a day. She pressed him: are you sure only once? What about on weekends? He had crimsoned with hot embarrassment knowing that Irene could hear. He admitted that sometimes he "did it" twice. 

Where, the doctor had asked, where do you masturbate? Well, he mumbled close to tears, in bed. Or in the bathroom. Do you use Ponds Cold Cream or Vaseline like many of the boys? Well, sometimes soap, he had whispered. Do you think about naked girls when you masturbate, the doctor had asked. He froze...then nodded, eyes filling. Over the doctor's shoulder Irene had grinned, triumphant. Do you think about their breasts, the doctor had pressed. "Yes," he had gulped. "Sometimes." Irene's chest had filled.

There was silence. Both the doctor and the girl had stared at his offending erection: four inches on the dorsal side, wrinkled and red, with a pointy cap. 

"You keep doing that and, of course, it will never grow."

The doctor then walked to her desk and returned with a plastic beaker. "You like doing it. So do it now," she said. Whaddddt? The boy had jolted with astonishment. She was instructing him to...jack off? Now? In front of them? She looked determined and was holding the beaker at the head of his cock. Then like an autonomon he had put a hand on the flesh, as if doing it for the first time, and hesitantly moved it up and down. Then suddenly he stopped.

"But, please doctor...please...not with her here. It's embarrassing and she...she...will tell my sisters."

"Nonsense. You have just said you masturbate. And I don't think girls are very interested in what silly boys get up to under the blankets or behind the bathroom door. Are they Irene?"

The girl shook her head, her gaze fixed on Davey's erection, her blue eyes swimming. On back seats on many occasions she had enjoyed the school's best athletes. With pants, rolled to their ankles they had slurped over her breasts or fingered her crotch while they jacked themselves off. This was different. Oh boy, was this different! She was getting to see a boy forced against his will to jack off in front of superior, dressed females, the agonised humiliation of a fella writhing with embarrassment at a four inch prick.

The doctor told him to start, to do it just as he did when he was on his own. He set to, eyes closed so he couldn't see Irene's. 

When it was over- his ropey emissions had roiled into the beaker and flavoured the air- Doctor Speight had Irene write a note with Davey's name and stick it with adhesive to the beaker, the girl grinning at the close-up view of the stuff that had flown out of Davey's stubby penis. She couldn't wait...to let all the girls in her class hear, to catch Davey's three sisters and brief them "...and Doctor Speight said Davey had the smallest of any of the boys, the smallest in the school!"

She looked at him with contempt, flat on the table, long and skinny- hairy to boot, his subsiding penis dribbling disgracefully, his arms by his sides as the doctor had instructed. She caught his eye and smiled. He wilted.

Meanwhile Johnny Marcello slumped on the bench outside the school surgery. As the minutes ticked by his fear mounted. He kept thinking of these reports from his friends. There was a sinister, creepy feeling about the prospect of a female doctor making him take his clothes off and do those other things like...checking on his masturbation and collecting his sperm samples or rating his body's hairiness...

Surely...

...surely not all of them. Surely after doing with all those other boys she would only expect him to have a quick check-up, just down to underpants. Maybe...maybe...she would just slip her fingers into them, to feel that all was normal. Allow him to maintain his privacy, his dignity. And surely there would be no more girls admitted. There must have been complaints. And no Miss Assam.

Three senior girls sauntered past.

"Marcello...!"

"...to the doctor!"

"Oh my God!"

"I hope it's our turn!"

And they doubled up, roaring with cruel girls' laughter.

Before he could reflect on this deepening mystery the frosted door opened and Doctor Speight appeared. "Johnny Marcello? Thanks for being punctual. Come right in, please."

Talk about business-like. Everything about her suggested she was to be obeyed.

Doctor Ida Speight was in her 50s, large bosomed, broad beamed, certainly stern, with her hair in a bun and glasses hanging around her neck. She wore a crisp white coat. Johnny's stomach was in turmoil and his eyes darted with terror. He nervously took in the small, compact surgery with its desk covered in files. There was an examination table and, in one corner, a screen. 

Ominously, a medical chart on one wall offered a diagram of the male urinary tract and sexual organ.

"We've got to get you back to your class as soon as we can, so let's get into it," said the doctor. She added that the survey element meant it was going to be a particularly thorough examination. 

Johnny's stomach turned over. His guts felt they were turning to water. This is what he - in fact, every male his age- dreaded: being " examined " by a female doctor or nurse without clothes - and, let's be frank, getting an erection. And Johnny had, he thought, a particular reason to fear a full body examination. He was stiff most of the time and would certainly never be able to keep it down and soft in front of a lady doctor. But worse, his cock was very unusual, or at least that's what he thought. 

It was a six incher, somewhat thick, and with a extra-large plumpish head. Like a particularly spongy mushroom. So far no problem. But when erect- which seemed to be its natural state- it curved inward decisively, to point back at its owner. It looked just like a big ripe banana. When it sprang up in the showers after football or swimming it got the other boys' attention and rapidly became the subject of conversation. "Banana prick" was the inevitable jest from naked boys who would rather have a mate's penis discussed than their own. That was par for the course but what would a fucking female doctor make of this...this little deformity? It was something he had always worried about.

This was his little secret.

And weren't his heavy balls too low-hanging and loose? His right ball hung much lower than the other. Way lower. Certainly other boys had said so, especially Eddie Whyte who seemed to take a great interest in Johnny's physique and in the showers had proposed games of what he called "bare back wrestling," just the two of them. 

Then from Doctor Speight came the instruction he had dreaded.

"Go behind the screen and strip off."

He winced, as if struck in the face.

She was looking him straight in the eyes.

The words "strip off" hung in the air.

He walked in a stupor, almost hypnotized, and found himself behind the screen slowly loosening his tie. As he moved to shirt buttons he felt a prickle of pure terror. And it didn't fade as the trousers joined his shirt on the chair. Looking down at his BVDs he quietly resolved to test his luck.

Leaving them on- the last cover of his modesty- he hesitated. Then he took three faltering steps, emerging from the screen to present himself .

Lifting her head from the paperwork on her desk Dr Speight gave him one look and said, "Oh, I think we can take those off as well..."

Her tone suggests she is used to dealing with the wiles of schoolboys with false notions of modesty. And using authority to make them take off all their clothes. No matter how reluctant the young men might be to stand bare as a board in front of a matronly woman medico.

"...This is a serious examination and I haven't got X-ray eyes."

Johnny Marcello again looks like he's been slapped: his face freezes in exquisite pain.

"Of course, if you want to...I can always take them off for you."

In shock, he quickly retreats behind the screen. He's flushed with panic. A spooky feeling of agitation fills him. She's ordered him to appear completely naked. Without so much as a fig leaf...starkers...in front of her, a woman, a female, a lady doctor.

Moving as if in a trance Johnny slips thumbs into his waistbands. He hesitates like a frightened animal. But what can he do? So slowly, slowly, slowly he slides his underpants down his legs. He steps out of them and hangs them on the chair.

Johnny Marcello is in his birthday suit. As nude as Michelangelo's David. And more frightened than if he were facing Goliath. He can feel the air around his cock and balls. He feels very, very naked. He keeps thinking of the old expression, "as naked as the day he was born." He thinks of his Italian-descended, traditional Catholic mother seeing him like this- and quickly banishes the dirty thought.

He takes a deep breath.

Like a schoolboy to a spanking he moves sluggishly out from the screen, this time to present himself to this formidable lady- the age, incidentally, of his Mom- in puris naturalibus. Desperately, as soon as he thinks of it, he throws his hands in front of his genitalia.

A Venus-pose. He hopes it looks natural . The obvious place to hang them, after all . Almost appearing an innocent afterthought. Folded, they might just cover the timberline of glistening pubic hair. Might even help cover an eventual erection.

Doctor Speight looks up to eye him through the glasses poised on the tip of her nose.

"That's the boy," she says, looking right at him. Johnny blushes deeper than he has ever blushed in his life- and he is a natural blusher. But at least he's got himself sort of covered.

"Now let's weigh you. Up on the scales, John."

Hands rigid before his member, Johnny awkwardly turns to cross the room. But- uh oh- he realizes he's presenting the doctor with a picture-perfect view of his white globes right smack in her line of vision. The humiliation, he thinks, she can see all of my bare behind, my bum cheeks. As he hobbles onto the scales he's also aware his loose scrotal sac is swinging slightly but at least his cock is limp...for now.

Please don't let it get hard, he prays. 

He stands on the scales staring fixedly ahead. With a clipboard the doctor moves to his side. Close- he can feel her fill the airspace.

"Let's see. Yes, a healthy, heavy weight for a boy of your age. For a young athlete." She writes on her notepad .

"Now over by the wall and we'll take your height."

Hands in front Johnny moves to the measuring rod. He still suffers that unique tingle of fear in his guts: tense horror at being totally stitchless in front of a lady. The doctor aligns the measure with the top of his head- he feels her breath on his shoulders- and makes another note.

"Good. Now we'll take measurements around your chest, waist and hips. Sooo... if you'll just place your hands on your head."

Again he registers an exquisite look of astonishment.

Once again, no alternative but to obey. Trembling he raises his arms to his head, revealing armpits bursting with proud black hair. And exposing lower down his scroll of pubic bush. Dangling from it is now revealed his wide young bratwurst, the foreskin covering the entire head, meeting at the tip in an irregular rosy pucker.

He is now completely open to her gaze. But she is over at her desk looking for something.

She swings back towards him with a tape measure. She keeps her eyes up, deliberately it seems, to avoid staring at his lily-white privates. Standing right in front of the scared, buck-naked 18 year-old she now encloses his upper body with outstretched arms and tape, pinching the two ends together. Just under his left armpit. He shudders, nearly jumps, at the tickle. Turns beet red. This is terrible, just terrible.

He is beginning to think that something might be stirrring in his loins...

Doctor Speight, finished with his chest, now moves lower, slipping the encircling tape down Johnny's trunk to his midriff where she repeats the exercise. Bet her eyes are feasting on me, he thinks, as he stares resolutely ahead. She can see everything a fella can call his own - my cock, my hair, my balls. Bet she's going to make some king of fuss about me not being circumcised. Or having uneven, low hanging balls.

His self control is now being challenged.

The tingle of air around his unclothed genitals.

His top to toe nudity which, in his childhood in a very strict Catholic home, was always associated with being naughty. Being rude. Being disgusting and obscene.

Inevitably with such thoughts Johnny's prick begins to thicken. To start, it's barely perceptible. That big fleshy head with the grinning slit just protrudes a little from the foreskin as if to ask, "Hi, what's going on here?"

Then it pushes further out, as the foreskin withdraws back along the shaft...which has now also decided to lengthen. Unmistakably, to lengthen.

The doctor, however, is all business. She almost prattles, "We're making a comprehensive record of how males your age develop. Sooo...all these measurements come in useful."

Johnny is willing his prick to subside, marshalllng every fibre of self restraint. But it is at the point where that fleshy head - actually now at its full circumference- is lifting from the balls. Up and away! Always the crucial stage, the point of no return.

Please don't shame me in front of a woman doctor, he orders his dick, please...what will she think? But Johnny's prick is really stretching now. The skin tugs back along its shaft. It is pointing to the floor, at the angle of a slippery slide in a playground.

Fortunately she has finished with the tape and is making notations. "Our aim is to chart growth from year to year," she says concentrating on filling in the spaces. "A very interesting exercise given that the male body at your age is at such a sensitive stage..."

He attempts a triumph of the will. But his manhood continues to assert itself, sinews stretching to full length to stick out defiantly. And to swing into that curve, in one final pulse to point accusingly back at Johnny's flat abs .

Stre...etch!

A final stiffening and he is sporting a stubborn, beam-hard erection, not quite your 45 degree textbook stiffy, given that banana-bend which is his distinguishing feature. But by any test, his membrum virile is well and truly there for all to see. And his balls hang low, barely diminished by the erection.

"Oh, you can put your hands down now," she says with what Johnny recognizes as a sickly sweet tone. Probably suppressing a giggle at my embarrassment, he thinks. She is determinedly not looking down at his jutting meat. But he knows she knows, that is, about his embarrassment; for one thing, because her manner has switched from businesslike efficiency to one of infinite understanding. A sort of maternal understanding. Sounding like one of those modern, educated, mothers who knows all about their son's challenges like nocturnal emissions and stained sheets.

And there is a hint of a smile.

She looks Johnny right in his moist, terrified eyes and says, "Now, John, the survey requires a measurement below the waist..."

Johnny thinks, she's gonna measure my dick!

"...that is, from your hip to knees, knees to feet. So if you make sure you're standing very straight..."

The doctor bends in front of him. Johnny sees only the top of her head. He feels her press the end of the tape to the inside of his trembling thigh. He gapes but no sound comes out. Her thumb and forefinger are holding the tape in place...up there between his balls and inner thighs!

Johnny's stubborn young manhood rears above her, like a bent artillery piece on a battle cruiser. In such a sensitive spot her touch sends a few more jolts into his rigid prick and renders it, if possible, even harder. He screws his eyes shut.

He has a shameful vision. A wicked little fantasy that he has locked onto for as long as he can remember. He is there, buck-naked with his banana-shaped erection on display, and a party of girls from his class and his neighborhood are standing in front of him. Some of them, friends of his sisters. Neatly dressed in their school clothes, of course. Each staring greedily at his funny-shaped boner, nudging one another. Giggling in that ruttish, girly way; never taking their mocking eyes off his curved flesh standing absurdly to attention above the low-hanging sack, one ball lower than its twin- which they also begin to find curious. And point at. Giggling because they find it as funny as his cock.

In another favoured fantasy a female swimming coach has arrived at the school and organised mixed swimming with girls to wear suits and boys to compete naked as jays. The girls watch as the teacher lines up the boys and, one at a time, hauls down their swimmers. Whisk! Down she draws them! Down furry legs to ankles. "Step out of those, please!" And the girls stare! 

That's a favorite. Boy! That gets him excited!

For the first time he sees her drop her gaze on his blood-hardened projection. This cannot be happening, he thinks with a visible shudder. 

Again her tone is that of a very enlightened mother talking to a troubled teenage son. She looked him in the eye and said: "The male organ comes in all shapes and sizes and bends are not at all unknown. Not all all. At a guess I would say one boy in 20 in your school would have either an outward or an inward angulation on his penis when erect, although few as strong as yours. But it is not Peyrorie's disease and it is important you know it has no effect on a male's capacity to enter a woman and have sexual congress..."

Johnny was suffering waves of deep blushing and his eyes were filling with tears, so acute was his shame at having his condition discussed while stark naked and inches from this doctor.

"...and as for involuntary erections like the one you have now, relax. Totally commonplace- especially in medical examinations, and especially with a woman doctor or nurse."

Her smile was devastating. He dropped his gaze. One tear actually spilled onto his cheek.

"Now, I'll just check for hernia."

Johnny's eyes screwed shut again while the doctor delicately handled each ball in his bag. 




School Doctor Strips Schoolboys Ch. 01



"You have a large and loose scrotal sac. It is normal to have one testicle hang lower than the other. Now let's just measure your growth."

Whaaaaat? But incredibly it was happening. Johnny felt her press the end of the tape hard against his pubic bone - right in there with his hair - and stretch it along the curved, rock-hard length of his penis. Oh Jesus, he thought! Doctor Speight struggled to accommodate the banana-bend, pressing the tape along the upper side of his appendage and making a third attempt before announcing, "Six inches! Absolutely normal. Of course you may continue to grow. And remember, nothing to fret about in that curvature. It has no effect on function. And now...the circumference..."

The doctor went to the desk and sat down and made a quick call to- he thought- the principal's secretary, something along the lines of "being ready now." Presumably for the next poor sucker and his ritual humiliation.

The doctor then asked him to come over to the desk and sit on the chair directly in front of it. Aware his projection was jiggling in the air in front of him he stalked across, like a barefoot Indian patrolling the forest floor. That's what I am, he thought- a naked Indian brave taken prisoner by this woman and stripped of my loin cloth and examined. He lowered his bare buttocks onto the leather of the chair, his curved erection rising from his lap. But, on the other side of the table, she could not see it. This, at least, was comfort.

"Now Johnny..."

She gazed across the litter of her desk, sweetly looking into his nervous eyes.

"...because this is a review of boys' development, I need to ask some questions. I don't want you to be embarrassed. All the boys have answered them. The questions are about your personal habits..."

He knew what was coming.

But it didn't reduce the shame. He reddened all over again and lowered his eyes.

"...when it comes to masturbation."

She let the awful word hang in the air, accusingly.

"Johnny..."

Her voice was several octaves higher. She sound rehearsed.

"...from my inspection of your penis it is obvious that, like many boys, you engage in this practice. Is that true?"

Oh no, he couldn't lie. She had noticed the somewhat worn skin, folds and wrinkles. Maybe there were other give-always vouchsafed only for doctors. He was looking down. From his groin the fat head of his prick was grinning back up at him. It had let him down.

He couldn't look at her. He nodded, barely perceptibly.

She briskly put follow-up questions. Her prisoner- yes, a nude young Indian brave questioned by a female doctor on behalf of the US cavalry- sat humiliated and gulped out his answers.

Yes, as a rule he indulged once a day, sometimes more, definitely more on weekends. No, his mother did not know. No, had not caught him at it. No, she had never commented on stains on his pyjamas or sheets. Yes, he was aware that sometimes he had produced these tell-tale signs. Cold cream? Sometimes. Vaseline? Generally. 

She asked him if he was aware of how unhealthy this addiction was? He said he didn't want to do it but found it hard to resist. Yes, he conceded, he did it because it gave him pleasure. He was drenched in shame at this particular confession. Gave me pleasure. Dirty, unhealthy pleasure, he thought ashamed.

Maybe, he thought, like a drowning man grasping at some hope, she is going to help me. At the end of these questions send me to a male doctor who will cure me. If...I confess the awful truths.

"Johnny," she continued, reading his mind. "If I am to help you reverse this unhealthy habit then I need to know what makes you excited. Let me ask...well, one boy today admitted he got excited looking at his muscles in the mirror and taking showers with the other boys..."

That's Eddie Whyte, thought Johnny in a flash. Always, without fail, sporting a hardon when he steps into the showers. Once when they were alone he had insisted on soaping Johnny's back. Weakly, Johnny had agreed and soon felt the head of Eddie's erection pressed into his buttocks as if seeking admission. Johnny had fled.

Now, Johnny shook his head. No, this stuff did not excite him.

Ladies underwear advertisements? His sisters' underwear? Girls in swimsuits at the pool? Thinking about the girls in your class with their clothes off? Magazines with women in their underwear? Different parts of female bodies- legs, feet?

He thought for a second. Then shook his head.

Doctor Speight closed in.

"Johnny, some men and boys get excited at the thought of..."

She spoke slowly. She enunciated every syllable.

"...at the thought of being naked...totally undressed...naked as the day that they were born..."

Johnny's erection hardened. A drop of moisture appeared on its tip. She couldn't see his cock but she could not mistake the ripple that was moving through his nude, white body, as a thrilling shame washed over him.

So she drew it out, cruelly, scientifically.

"Yes, some boys and men- more than is commonly realised- get terribly excited at the thought of going naked...nude, in their birthday suits...bare as boards...like you are now...in the company of girls or women who are..."

It was clear her words had sent the boy into the throes of some nameless emotion. He was trembling. His eyes were swimming. Yes, she thought triumphantly, I picked it! She would love, she thought, to see his penis, now sheltered by the desk: "I bet he's stiffer than before...I bet he's emitting fluid, throbbing away with my word pictures..."

She continued.

"...females who are...fully dressed. Entirely dressed while the male is trapped...without a stitch."

He was silent, shaking all over, his eyes distant and possessed.

She slowly rose, moved from behind the desk and stood above him. Yes! His erection pulsed and throbbed. His emission- clear and sticky- was flowing from his urethra, a runnel of guilty fluid from his mushroomy head.

The poor perverted young fella, she thought. She tousled his oiled black hair.

"That's what excites you, isn't it, Johnny?"

He gulped back tears.

"Thoughts of being trapped in the bath, when a party of girls bursts in...?"

He slowly nodded, shamed that she was reading the trail of fantasies left behind in his mind.

"...of being caught by girl guides when you are skinny dipping, being trapped by naughty, curious girls..."

That too was a staple of his diseased mind. He shook all over. 

"That thought excites you, Johnny, doesn't it?"

He nodded, ashamed. 

"You naked. The girls dressed, laughing at you."

A tear rolled down a cheek. His penis slit drooled, his erection jerked. He knew she could see it.

"...oh yes, I know what boys like you think about. I interview a lot of boys your age. And, of course, the most common trigger seems to be the thought of a medical examination at the hands of a female doctor. That makes a lot of boys get very hot and bothered."

Her hand was patting his head. He was astonished, that she could read his inner-most thoughts.

There was a knock at the door.

Doctor Speight could make out two female figures behind the frosted glass. Johnny, however, sat with his back to the door. 

"Come in," said the doctor. The door opened abruptly. Johnny looked over his shoulder and saw Miss Assam, the tall, lanky secretary to the principal and Olivia Pucker, a senior girl with plaited auburn hair and granny glasses, freckle faced.

God! Olivia Pucker! Her prominent front teeth gave her plain farm-girl features a rodent caste. Indeed a certain predatory air took over, at this moment. And why not? Each night under the sheets she would roll-up her absurdly girlish frilly nightie and plunge her fingers into her soupy vagina, drifting in a world of lascivious fantasies. All to do with the boys at school; all to do with her peeling their clothes off. Or ordering them to peel their clothes off...and having her way with them.

Olivia Pucker had never seen a naked boy in her life.

She was looking at one now, seated next to the doctor! Oh my God! That's Johnny Marcello! Naked as the day that he was born! Naked, on that chair! And with...something like a big banana...with a pink nob on the end...sticking up out of his lap...God! Stiff, and pointing up, and curved! Rising out of some loose squishy flesh covered in hair in his groin...

Jesus, she couldn't believe what she was seeing! For the first time in her life: a naked young man! Not in her fantasies but in real life.

Horrified, Johnny crossed his legs...one leg over the other in a second flat...to trap his pounding erection and cover it with a thigh. Then he lent forward, arms on his thighs. To shield himself. From this awful girl, and Miss Assam.

He felt very, very exposed. Even with his legs crossed, with him leaning forward over his lap. He felt...very naked.

It turned out that Olivia had had to leave her class with some terrible tummy upset and reported to the principal's office and Miss Assam thought she was in a bad way and felt she had to bring her here even if the doctor was in the middle of an examination...

"Oh, young Johnny here won't mind," chimed Doctor Speight. "I'll return to him in a moment."

Miss Assam, lanky arms crossed over her flat breasts, stood appraising the contorted nude boy blushing like a fire hydrant. "But I don't think this boy likes the idea of being trapped like this with all this female activity around him."

Olivia was at looking at Johnny intently.

"Goodness, Johnny, the last thing Miss Assam or this young lady is interested in is seeing you without your clothes."

The looks of the two females gave the lie to this old-wives' tale, served up to embarrassed naked boys in the company of women from time immemorial. Johnny felt their eyes all over him, especially his exposed hips and thighs. For both of them a treat like this was rare: a shirtless laborer on a building site, the Greek athlete in marble in the foyer of the art museum, rumors of the nude male swimming at the Y or in the boys-only swim class.

Right now, however, here was a handsome athletic male, one hundred percent stripped off. Trapped, right in front of them, although sheltering his midriff from their eyes by that forward leaning crouch.

The three females started to fuss. First, they had to take Olivia's temperature, then her blood pressure. Chattering all the time they moved across the surgery, the girl and the secretary taking smirking looks at Johnny at every opportunity. Then it was a matter of getting the girl up on the table and the doctor began to feel her abdomen although there was no question of her undressing.

"Do you examine all the boys naked?" asked Miss Assam, idly looking across at trapped Johnny. "That boy is without a stitch." Her tone of voice suggested she was being mischievous, making the boy shrink with shame. In any case she knew the answer to her question.

"Oh, yes. It's the most efficient way. Let's me do all of my tests with a minimum of fuss."

"Bet they don't like that, not one little bit."

All three females were staring at the seated, crouching boy. He nearly fainted with shame and pressed down even harder to shield his modesty.

"Well, you know, while most are subject to that silly adolescent embarrassment there are some who seem not to mind, even to enjoy the experience."

Johnny thought, she means me!

Olivia's mind was racing, while she lay on the table, the doctor feeling her tummy, checking her nonexistent cramp. Lying head on her side, she was able to stare at the sheltering, naked, seated boy. And she was thinking, "It was worth it! It was definitely worth it! Making up that dumb story about tummy cramps...getting out of that boring Business Studies class...going to the principal's office and pretending I was about to collapse with pain...JUST TO BE BROUGHT IN HERE! Knowing that she was examining boys...and knowing that she makes them strip naked! And...BINGO! It's Johnny Macello! The handsome Johnny Marcello! And he's one hundred percent naked, and I saw HIS THING! Now look at him, blushing like a fire hydrant, crouching on the chair to stop me seeing more of it- that thing that was sticking up curved like a banana...with a big pink hat on the end...and I guess that other bit- squishy and hairy- is what naughty girls call 'balls' when they whisper about these things. Oh, pleaaaaaaaase, Doctor, make him stand up...Johnny Marcello in the nude standing up...that curved thing standing up, too...that hat on the end...and yes, HIS BALLS! I wanna see THEM! Oh, pleaaaaaase Doctor! Don't let this end with me going back to class without seeing him standing up...front-on!"

And as the doctor felt and massaged around the prone girl's tummy tall, skinny Miss Assam looked sideways to the nude boy, so reminiscent of Rodin's seated nude, The Thinker. Her thoughts raced, "The fifth one I've seen today- yes, me, bursting into this room with Doctor Speight's encouragement. This is the best part of my job: her medical examinations of the boys. She's an old friend, and we both relish putting these arrogant young males in their place. And fella, you can blush and bend over all you like but let me tell you this. She's let me see your classmates stark naked and erect- oh, about a dozen this week- and I doubt very much she's gonna let you stay sheltered while us females are itching for a good show. Why, this girl Olivia is one after my own heart. Like me she wants to see what you've got rising out of your groin. Indeed, what I glimpsed as we burst in looked very, very interesting..."

Doctor Speight interrupted her thoughts saying- in words that thrilled both females, "Johnny..."

A pause.

"...Johnny, be a helpful fella and trot over to the sink in the corner and boil some water...and then pour it carefully into that hot water bottle that you can find over in my cabinet...oh, and one of the towels from the cupboard in the corner..."

He gulped.

"You mean...me? Get up?"

"Yes, silly fella, you...UP!"

He froze.

The three females stared at him.

"Can I put my...underpants on?"

"Oh goodness, you are are a very conceited young man indeed, to imagine that all we want to look at is the sight of you without a stitch. I've got a good mind to..."

And she seemed to think, finger to lips.

"...yes, I know what I'll do. Olivia, do you study biology? Human biology?"

Sensing something wonderful she answered, "Er...yes...yes, Doctor..."

"And perhaps Art- art history, drawing, sketching...the human form..."

"Oh, Doctor, I love Art...history...the Greeks especially...statues, vase painting..."

"Well...I wonder if you have ever had the opportunity to see the male form in real life? And if you would find it at all helpful?"

"Oh Doctor, we can never see the real thing. Models? Never. And biology...yes, so hard without..."

"I understand," said doctor Speight. "Johnny, stand up."

His eyes bulged, like those of a frightened animal.

"But..." He sputtered.

"Johnny, I don't want to have to report to your mother. On our recent conversation just now."

She paused.

"Up."

He rose from his seat, bent over, arms crossed in front, hands pressed to his groin.

Miss Assam and Olivia stared, feeling flushed and warm. Behind their glasses their eyes beamed with the liveliest interest. But the boy was persisting in covering his genitals.

"Arms by your side. And stand over here."

He crouched over to her.

"Oh, straighten up!"

There was no alternative for the trapped boy.

He straightened. Moved his arms to his sides. Revealed everything.

They stared at him.

Said the doctor: "Well, as you can see Olivia, he is a fine specimen of young manhood, this Johnny Marcello."

The girl raised herself from the bed, sat on its edge.

Three feet from Johnny's midriff, she nodded her agreement. He was a fine specimen. Her bespectacled eyes moved greedily over his body.

His penis curved out and up at them, rock-hard.

The doctor decided to address this question, she could hardly ignore it.

"Well, as you can see, Olivia, Johnny is in what we call 'a state of erection.' That's when his sex organ- what we call his penis- stretches and stands up."

The girl nodded, staring reverently. She had overheard conversations among girls who did "dating." She had puzzled at whispered references to something like this phenomenon.

The doctor approached the boy. "The penis is only one part of a male's organs. This here is another. It is Johnny's scrotum, a bag, hanging below his penis. In most boys it becomes small and tight and barely visible when the boy is in an erect state but Johnny's still hangs remarkably loose. See? You can make out the two testicles or testes outlined inside it. One lower than the other - that's normal. They roll around...inside the boy's wrinkly sack. Two...see?"

She lightly touched Johnny's beanbag. He felt her long finger nail stroke his left testicle. It lingered. He shivered. The thrill travelled up his body, up his penis. 

Olivia nodded. Miss Assam looked on.

"Johnny perhaps you might share with us the nick-name boys give this part of their anatomy?"

Johnny gulped. Blushed.

"Olivia, boys have the silliest names for their private parts. Go on, Johnny, share them. And if you are embarrassed...well, think next time you engage in smutty talk with your friends."

She took hold of his scrotal sack, made him wince, scared of pain being added to his humiliation. "Johnny...what is the nick name...for...this?"

She tightened. The threat was clear. 

The words popped out.

"B...b...balls."

"And the bag that holds your precious 'balls' or, as I prefer, your testicles or testes? What is the smutty term you and your friends use?"

He blushed.

"B...b...beanbag," he stuttered.

Triumphant Doctor Speight lifted the object and offered it for freckle faced Olivia to inspect.

"Well, I suppose there's a logic to this: balls indeed. But beanbag! Truly! See, Olivia?"

The scrotum lay displayed in her palm, as if on a plate, the skin holding the two clearly defined marbles. The girl nodded, smiling, her buck teeth exposed. 

"Although we prefer the correct language, not the smutty slang, and the correct terms are, again...scrotum, for the bag that holds the objects and dangles here between a boy's thighs..."

Both Miss Assam and Olivia smiled broadly at the ridiculous concept: a purse, or bag, hanging between one's legs.

"...yes, that's right, you are not the only female to think they look funny...and aren't we lucky we females aren't condemned to wear them! So that's the scrotum...and then we have testicles, the term for the two round objects within the bag. And..."

She dropped the testicles and ran her finger up the ventral side, or underside, of Johnny's erection. He shuddered with shame.

"...this is his penis stem. Note the network of lovely blue veins, running this way and that. Like a street map! As delicate as China, some of the smaller ones."

The three leaned in close. The doctor's long finger nail slowly traced the boy's filagree of decorative veins, at this moment filled with blood. The boy shuddered as the tingles ran through his cock, his whole body.

"Because of Johnny's erection we are forced to contemplate the underside of his penis, the ventral side. Note this bulging vein. It's called the ventral vein. On the penis stem. Stem- Johnny's is different from most other boys'. Most are straight. In an erect state they point out and up without a curve. Johnny's has a very pronounced...bend to it."

"Like a banana," suggested the girl helpfully.

Both women laughed and looked Johnny in the eye.

The boy hung his head with humiliation. 

These females were mocking the shape of his dick.

"Exactly, like a banana! And Johnny is very self conscious about it but when I inspected him earlier I explained that it- his organ- will function normally when it is time for him to think about raising a family."




School Doctor Strips Schoolboys Ch. 01



Lanky, angular Miss Assam looked, or tried to look, concerned. She asked, "Does his mother know her son has an unusual shape to this penis?"

"No, apparently. He told me his mother hasn't seen him in this state. That's right, isn't it, Johnny?"

The boy nodded mournfully.

Both Miss Assam and Olivia swelled with a sense of privilege: on view, nude and erect, was Mrs Marcello's son and she had never seen what they were viewing. 

"So..."continued Doctor Speight. "Here...this bunched skin- a stretchy band- is his frenulum...it means 'little bridle' in Latin...which joins the stem to the glans. Glans is a funny word, derived from the Latin for acorn. Johnny's is more a mushroom, however, a big, blooming, mushroom where many boys have smaller, probe-like helmet heads. Saw a few of those yesterday, on less well endowed boys. But big and blooming or small and probe-like, the glans is packed, absolutely packed, with nerve endings. Is that right, Johnny?"

He nodded, desperate.

"Oh, and this rounded edge of the glans? This rim? Like the roof of a pagoda? Giving the whole thing a heart shape?"

The girl nodded fascinated. She followed the doctor's finger tip which was grazing Johnny's penis head.

"...is called the corona, or coronal edge. Very well defined in Johnny."

And here the doctor let her palm run around Johnny's bulbous penis head. He nearly fainted at the pleasure. Nerve endings indeed, packed.

She invited Olivia to feel it.

The girl! This plain, freckled-faced, buck-toothed girl! Johnny's knees buckled. He nearly swooned. "N...n...no!" he sputtered."Don't let her...touch me there!"

Doctor Speight completely ignored him.

"Here, feel it," she insisted.

The girl took a deep breath.

She stepped up to him. For a terrible second, seeing her plain features so close, he thought she was going to kiss him!

Olivia paused, looked him right in his terrified eyes, then took his spongy penis cap and gave it a gentle, all-around stroke. He tensed, nearly shot through the roof! For her part she clearly liked the feel. Soft...spongy...warm, as warm as young manhood itself. And, yes, it was shaped like a heart. What a romantic boy, this Johnny! On the end of his penis...a spongy lump of flesh shaped like a heart!

"Oh yes, Johnny certainly knows where your hand is. The poor boy looks like a patient emerging from anaesthetic!"

The females laughed at his dazed, far-away expression.

"And the slit in the glans, which has an obvious use, has a rather arresting name: it is called the meatus, or urethral opening, but I like meatus. So, well, masculine. Meat...meatus. By the way, I learnt in med school one should examine a boy's penis by applying light friction to the top...the sensitive glans but you can hold the base more firmly. Encircling it with your fingers."

The doctor invited Olivia to run her hand up and down the penis shaft according to this principle. Olivia shuddered and taking a big breath grasped the banana-shaped rod. The boy shut his eyes, seemed to be concentrating. She moved her fist up and down, used her palm to skate around the glans, moved down again and held tight the base. He was breathing hard, seemed close to...something. But then the girl stopped, satisfied for the time being. He seemed to relax. 

Then Doctor Speight invited Miss Assam to feel Johnny and the lanky, bespectacled woman, eyes on fire, moved forward. She lingered on the glans, captivated by its softness and moulded shapliness. How much like rubber, hard yet tender; and she wished he was her son. Holding somewhat tighter, she moved up and down the stem. Yes, if Johnny were her son what tenderness she would vouchsafe him. Truth was, apart from a stumbling mother's boy finance years ago, she had never gone with a male. Right now her desires were bursting their banks.

The boy clenched his eyes, seemed to be concentrating mightily, breathed hard. And Miss Assam was in seventh heaven. Her own eyes assumed a faraway look. Up and down, up and down, this hot bit of flesh, with the moulded ending: it was fabulous.

Then the doctor suggested the secretary cup her palm and gently juggle the testicles, white, drooping, only lightly dusted with hair.

"Cup them. Feel the little chappies. Juggle your palm. See them bounce."

And so she did. Her excited breathing rustling Johnny's oiled locks. Johnny's eyes stayed shut. His lips moving, silently. His face flushing hot, waves of crimson competing with a fainting paleness.

Opined Miss Assam, as she bounced away, "Feels like chamois leather!" This, she thought, was the secret source of his maleness, this warm bag of human skin and its two delicate balls. She had never had such power. Bounce, bounce, bounce. The sound of skin slapping skin. Her face was next to his as she stared into his clenched eyes.

Then Olivia cupped his balls and started to bounce them. Her slaps to his scrotum were more forceful than Miss Assam's. Ouch! Slap. Slap. Slap. Ouch! Slap! Slap! Slap! Ouch! The watery sound of flesh on flesh. The boy stood, hovering between pain and pleasure. Oh, it was delicious; ouch, it stung!

Softly, in her ear, the doctor asked Olivia, "It's nice to see them jiggle around inside, isn't it."

She nodded, faraway, in a world of her own. And she imagined 10 boys buck naked and lined-up to have their scrotums juggled in the palm of her hand and their balls jiggling in their little bags, and each boy rooted to the spot, eyes clenched just like Johnny right now, thrilled but scared.

To have one boy, as a special friend, and to make him strip...and have him permit you, his girlfriend, to bounce his bag...make his balls jiggle away...

Playfully, possessed by this fantasy, she gave his scrotum one distinctly hard slap. The boy nearly doubled over, gasping.

"Oooowwww!"

"Opps, dear! Careful now. They're real sissys when it comes to down there."

"Oooowwww! I...don't...like...that!" He was gasping. "Please don't do that!"

He stayed doubled over.

"Johnny, don't be silly. It doesn't hurt that much!"

"No...no...doctor! It...hurts! Don't let her...do...that!"

The doctor needed, she thought, to distract him.

"Do either of you want to feel his penis some more?"

As it happened both did.

He straightened up and shut his eyes again. Waited for the hand of one of them to feel him.

Miss Assam moved in. She took hold and ran her fist up and down the stem, lightly. Grasped the base more firmly. She looked Johnny in the face. Clearly the pain had receded. His expression was far-away and dreamy. Oh, how she relished the curve! How she thought of all those young athletes in the adjacent school, and how she would like to pleasure all of them like this. 

Eventually she made way for the eager girl. Olivia was impatient, clearly. Her eyes blazed behind her granny glasses. Her front teeth flashed. Her palm was hot and damp, her grip tight. She loved grasping the glans. She imagined Johnny's nerve ends tingling. She seemed determined, on something. She gripped the stem harder than before. Up and down. Up and down. Gripped harder still.

Oh God, the boy thought, oh my God! I'm close...so close.

Johnny's sap was rising.

The doctor told Olivia to stop, sensing something.

He sighed. With relief. She backed off.

She resumed her lecture. "When the penis is not erect, that is, when it is soft and hanging down, the glans is covered- at least in boys who have not been circumcised- with an overhang of extra skin. Johnny has not been circumcised. He has that extra skin, called a foreskin. Or prepuce. But right now it's fully retracted by his erection which pulls the loose skin back over your favorite part of him, his lovely big glans."

The three females looked on ravenously. Then Miss Assam asked an entirely insincere, mischievous question, a thin forefinger propped on her pointed chin.

"What makes a boy get an erection...like Johnny right now?"

She was pointing with her other hand.

The doctor dropped her voice, as if sharing a secret.

"Oh, excitement. Something excites them."

Olivia took a deep breath and throwing caution out the window, ventured forth.

"What has made Johnny excited?"

"Oh, I think being told to take all his clothes off...with a lady present, even a doctor. That has a strong stimulatory effect on some boys. Johnny is one of those males who can't help getting excited being undressed in front of fully-dressed ladies...including..."

And she looked at Olivia.

"...a girl his own age."

He felt weak at the knees.

"Yes, that's right. Goodness, that must add to the shame you feel at the moment, mustn't it, Johnny?" the doctor asked.

The boy nodded, gloomily. Olivia beamed. Under the spray of freckles her skin flushed. Behind her glasses, she stared the harder.

"Can you make him lower his penis, so we can see it in a normal state?" asked Miss Assam. "See the skin...the foreskin?"

"Well, I can certainly ask," chuckled the doctor.

For a moment the boy clenched his eyes, appeared to strain, as if on the toilet. All that happened was that his erection oozed more fluid, trailing to the floor in a sticky, transparent dribble. It did not falter in its wood-like hardness.

The doctor asked him again, addressing him as if a baby.

But it was the one order he could by no means obey.

"Well, no, this is not going to work. Johnny's equipment continues to defy gravity," conceded the doctor with a smile. "Certainly not while three females are looking at the poor boy. Nonetheless, Olivia, you are getting to inspect a naked male here. Note this muscle...the Adonis belt...running from his hips down to his groin..."

And she was off giving an anatomy lesson, running a finger tip across Johnny's major and minor muscle groups. They toured his abdomen, his pectorals, his triceps and biceps and delts, and the doctor even had him turn his his back so they could inspect his gluteus and, finally, bend over, legs parted, so Olivia could see Johnny's sphincter- the doctor sensed she would like this. The plain girl did indeed. Such power, she thought, over this big athletic boy...that I get to inspect his cute little anus!

His cleft was completely hairless. 

The doctor remarked on this: "Goodness, one I inspected yesterday- on a tall fella called Davey- was crammed with hair. But Johnny is still developing in this department so we have a clear view of his...er, characteristics." The dime-sized pucker winked back at them, a cute wrinkled circle, suede in colour. Jesus, though Miss Assam, if I had you as a son, young man, you would be over my knees every night having that bottom spanked- and me inspecting that cute little hole of yours! 

The three women gazed at it.

Doctor Speight could now dilate on the boy's perineal raphe which ran...

"...down here, from his anus..."

Holy Cow! The boy nearly fell forward. Her finger was trailing along the runway of flesh between his asshole and his balls! It zig zagged across it! It thrilled him with glorious sensations! Jeepers! At the same time, bending over like this, he felt awfully exposed...showing off his hole! If his mother...!

"...and this raphe- this little ridge- runs from there all the way to... "

She took hold of his shoulder and invited him to stand and turn around and face them once more.

"...turn around now Johnny...face us again...that's the boy...and here we are, back to the scrotum again...this raphe, this central line linking his private parts, runs right up his scrotal sac, neatly dividing it in two, this little line of raised skin...and, Olivia pay attention, in the scrotum we can see Johnny's..?

"Balls!" burst the girl.

The two grown-up females joined her good-natured jollity. They all laughed- at Johnny's expense. Yes, testicles and a scrotum were funny things.

Olivia corrected herself.

"I should have said, testicles."

"Good girl!" complimented the doctor. Even Miss Assam patted her on her head.

"Well, let's test you on the other names..."

It was 30 minutes before it was over. Olivia got most of them right. She had a good memory, for some - as Doctor Speight touched Johnny the girl reeled off the technical names: penis stem, penis shaft, foreskin, glans, testicles, testes, scrotum and corona and that delicious noun, meatus- struggling only with frenulum and prepuce. Remarkably, she remembered raphe- such an unexpected discovery this little decoration on boys- but not the adjectives that go with raphe: scrotal or perineal. So they spent a bit of time revising, with the poor boy having to turn his back and bend with parted legs. 

The doctor also diverted to explain about the "pre-ejaculatory fluid" trailing out of the boy's slit and he nearly crouched over with new shame. But what stretched things out was that Johnny had been instructed to share his boyish nick-names for every part. The doctor said he would not get his clothes back until he yielded up every rude slang expression that he and his friends used about their privates. Every dirty, smutty, boyish name. 

There had been much jolly laughter as the females savoured the cheekiness of "cock," although he had come close to fainting with shame as he stuttered it out. He pronounced the word and watched them drop their gaze to the object, as if seeking confirmation from his erection that this was the name it went by. And, when he blurted that he knew a boy who called his thing his "rooster," the females had positively fallen about while he stood almost snuffling with embarrassment- he being in no position to join in the merriment. Then he followed, offering up "dick" and "pecker" (Olivia found "pecker" very funny and pointed at his "pecker" and giggled loudly making him blush deeper.) 

He volunteered "prick" and "hardon" (which had to be spelt out) and then "stiffie" and "boner" and when it came to their favorite part, his glans, he offered them "bell end." This had been a lovely revelation to the females and one which each considered sweetly appropriate, shape and style of the object considered. It drew more attention to his mushroom appendage. It had even led to more fingering by the doctor with Miss Assam and Olivia leaning in so close Johnny could feel their breaths in his pubic bush.

"Oh, go on! You will find it a little sticky- with that fluid all over the place. But nice for him, smoother."

And so Olivia and Miss Assam accepted the doctor's invitation to once again feel the sponginess of the glans. Yes, sticky, even slimy.

"I do like his glans. Or should I call it, 'bell end'?" the secretary had asked, grinning at him, so close he could taste her dry, unpleasant breath. She took hold, like taking the gear stick of her car. Around and around ran her exploring fingers and palm...then up and down the stem, looking him deep in the eye the whole time. She handed over to the girl.

"Yes, it's moulded like a little bell," Olivia had agreed. "Oh, and all this sticky fluid! Johnny, what are you doing?" And she looked up to catch his eye. "Yes," said Miss Assam. "All they fluid- Johnny what are you doing?"

As Olivia handled his penis, the interrogation continued. The females' insistence forced him to offer up the ribald noun, "joystick." The three females frowned, disapproving. He then stuttered out, "family jewels." Miss Assam had nodded as if to indicate that even she in her virginal purity was not unfamiliar although she was far from approving. The females were blank when he suggested "coin purse" and confirmed "beanbag" as slang for scrotum. Some boy's father said, "bollocks" but he, Johnny explained, had been in the navy. 

By the time he offered them "nuts" he felt they were being sickened rather than amused by all the vulgarity. After all, he reflected, these expressions were being put to fully dressed females by an 18 year old male standing in his birthday suit, sporting a curved erection. At "nuts" Doctor Speight went, "Tut, tut." He faced upturned lips from Miss Assam and Olivia.

"Nuts," reflected the nasty, lean Miss Assam, shaking her head and looking direct at his scrotum.

"Coin purse," repeated Olivia with her freckle face and buck teeth, staring at the boy's bag.

"Not very elevating, is it?" asked the doctor. The others shook their heads.

He felt a very dirty-minded little boy indeed.

Perhaps as punishment Doctor Speight invited both females to juggle his scrotum again. "No! She hurt me!" Johnny groaned. Tried to protest.

Elbowing the girl aside, Miss Assam moved in first. Oh, how she loved this game. Cup the sac...juggle it, gently...watch the balls jiggle...see his expression, eyes screwed, between pleasure and pain, scared of what a female might do to him if she desired.

The phone rang. First the doctor, then Miss Assam, were drawn to the desk on the other side of the room. Some school business. They shared the phone. Sorted out some arrangement. 

Which left Olivia, now emitting a ruttish scent, standing next to the frightened naked boy, cupping his scrotum. The big athlete looked at her, forlornly. He was totally in her control. Trapped. Naked. Trembling with anxiety, scared of what she might do...while she resumed bouncing his "beanbag" with his "family jewels."

"I...can...feel...your...nuts!" she whispered. Eyes flashing mischief.

He looked into her eyes, frightened. 

"It must be terrible for you...to have me, a girl, playing with your balls...your funny bag!"

Her face was up against his. He could make out each freckle.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

"Please...don't...hurt...me," he begged in a whisper. "Please..."

She sneered back.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

They were getting harder.

"Please...boys...are...very...sensitive...down there... "

But as she bounced away, little slaps against his skin, she was thinking, "If only I had a boyfriend..."

Then...

She thought, "I'll never have a boyfriend..."

Quickly she stopped bouncing the little bag, and instead, staring him right in the eye... gripped it...gripped it, feeling his "nuts" bunch up...and squeezed tight. Johnny shrieked and flew away from her grip. He danced on the spot clutching himself. "Oooooowwwwwww!" He was close to gagging.

"Oooooowwwwwww!"

He pirouetted around the floor.

"Sorry...I didn't mean...golly gosh...oh, I'm sorry...I mean, does it really hurt...all I did was give him a little squeeze, Doctor..."

She was totally insincere.

Meanwhile naked Johnny tap danced, in agony.

"Aaaaahhhgwwwaaaa!"

The women returned to watch, bemused.

The nude boy kept up his war dance, palms over his genitals. Hopping around in a circle. He really looked absurd. Olivia could barely suppress a smile. Oh I love this, she thought. Miss Assam was excited, flushed. Her fantasy...that this Johnny was her own son, stripped of all his clothes, being disciplined by her, a somewhat cruel Mommy.

"Told you, Olivia, boys don't like that!" declared Doctor Speight. She didn't seem much concerned.

Meanwhile Johnny continued to tap dance, both hands cupping his injured sac, eyes closed in pain. "Aaaaaaahhhh!"

Miss Assam seemed hugely entertained. Seeing a naked young man dancing around in this agony was the most fun she had ever had in her life. Three females watched, enjoying themselves entirely at the boy's expense. 

Finally Johnny stopped dancing and bent over, his face contorted. He was making gasping noises.

The females took in the sight. I still can't believe this, thought Olivia, he is stark, bare-buck naked. Naked! And I Olivia Pucker have got this handsome young colt, in his birthday suit, at my command and it seems they'll let me do anything with him!

He is so...vulnerable, thought Miss Assam. So totally naked, and vulnerable. And my dear, dear friend Doctor Speight has involved me in this prurient adventure. And it is not over yet!

Please don't let this end, thought Olivia.




School Doctor Strips Schoolboys Ch. 01



"Johnny..."

Oh, thought the girl, I hope the doctor is not telling him to get dressed. Not yet, please!

"...Johnny, drop your hands. Let us inspect the damage."

The boy hesitated.

"Don't...let...her..." He was weeping, looking at Olivia.

"Don't worry about her, just drop those hands."

Drooping, he complied.

He revealed an entirely subsided penis, soft and shrivelled, the thick moulded head now under cover...the foreskin having reclaimed it, a puckering overhang. Behind, the scrotum sagged, looser now, the balls more apparent than ever, lounging in their spacious home, the naughtier one lower than its twin.

But if Johnny thought his ordeal over he was profoundly mistaken.



School Doctor Strips Schoolboys Ch. 02



We take the characters of the Rodney series and subject them to a school medical. All are over 18.

*****

Dr Speight's plan was simple.

The boys of Brewer had to have their body hair shaved off so that, in Miss Cuff's school musical, they resembled Red Indians. Their loin cloths, sewn by dressmaker Mrs Carruthers, were tiny and hung low; so, dressed for the show, their groins were displayed. All their pubic hair on view. But real Indians were hairless, said Miss Cuff. Hence, the hair had to go. The boys in the musical had to be shaved.

The boys also had to have school medicals before the musical got performed. That was school board rules. Before school games and before school theatricals. Dr Speight was in charge of health and hygiene at Grover Cleveland High. She would have her way.

Soooooo...

Why not combine the two procedures?

Medical examinations and shaving?

One objection may have been the time involved. Whisking off a boy's body hair with a razor was itself a medical procedure. Think of the scrotum alone, the funniest part of a boy's anatomy in the view of some females- oh, perhaps foreskins in boys who had them, but "balls" were really comical; rendering the folds of a boyish scrotum glabrous might take an hour's deft effort, work as subtle as embroidery. Time consuming to be sure, certainly every drawn-out second suffered by the poor boy was an eternity.

To that there was an answer at once simple and elegant: find volunteers to help. Mrs Reilly, for example, who would, as it happen, play the role of a nurse in Cowgirls and Indian Braves. She could dress as a nurse, dress in her stage costume, and in the interests of verisimilitude actually work as one during these procedures, a volunteer in the mid-west tradition. There were her two Negro maids, Rosa and Rowena, who could help as well. They always seemed diverted when young male offenders were ordered to work nude in Mrs Reilly's verdurous garden, spent a lot do time peeping, giggling.

And there were Mrs Carruthers and her Negro maid Yuela who had fussed over every one of the boys as they measured them and fitted them out with small frontal flaps dangling from waistbands. Yes, Mrs Carruthers and Yuela would enjoy, say, whipping up dishes of shaving cream, soaping the boys' groins, delicately repositioning a lounging scrotum, manoeuvring around a stretched penis, carefully drawing a sharp razor through scrolls of pubic bush. They had come to know all the boys as they had fitted them out, nude and standing on a stool. They knew, as one might say, the territory.

And...

...there were the girls from Grover Cleveland High. Of course, the girls!

And it came to pass.

Four young athletes sat in the waiting room.

They were Rodney Ricketson, Mark Campbell, Jimmy Fraser and Johnny Marcello.

The faces of the boys showed their tension. 

Two girls stood together in the corner, grinning. Sally Pullen and Gloria Smedley had been deputed to escort the boys from classroom to doctor's rooms. As they had walked with their captives down school corridors, they had swiped glances at the boy's midriffs, as if to signal that they would soon be seeing...well, everything. Two hours had been allocated for the medicals, four boys a time. As they had walked tall, red-haired Rodney had felt their glances, their sidelong stares at his trouser front. And it had stirred the old, familiar feeling; the secret thrill at being seen, in humiliating circumstances, stripped of his clothes, stared at nude by lubricious females. And his nine inch appendage had stirred, stretched, lifted.

The girls had noticed the poking bulge in his right trouser leg. They smiled knowingly.

Now they were in the waiting room and Rodney's penis was jutting right up, tenting his flies, and no arrangement of his hands could hide it.

That the two girls were excited was clear from the liveliness in their expressions.

The boys looked downward, shuffled their feet.

An occasional female teacher glanced in from the corridor. Every now and then parties of girls drifted past, looked in and burst into giggles.

Johnny Marcello, with his Italianate good looks and oiled Elvis hair, was gloomy. He was thinking of his recent medical examination and how Olivier Pucker with her buck teeth and glasses and mousy hair had stood there and bounced his balls in that crazy "juggle jiggle" game, while he stood naked, without a stitch: "juggle the scrotum to watch the testicles jiggle." Great fun for her. And every tenth bounce of the balls seemed to become a slap that nearly made him double up. And he remembered how he had been erect throughout a long examination by Dr Speight; and how the principal's secretary Miss Assam and the awful Olivier had joined in; and how fluid had emerged at the end of his prick. In front of them. Oh God, he had winced with shame.

Now he had been recruited to the musical, filling the place of little Stevie Lynton who had been taken from school by Mrs Lanbourne, off on a holiday that, Stevie confided to a circle of friends, would involve visits to nudist colonies with Mrs Lanbourne, who he called "his new mother," and her two naughty daughters.

Nudist colonies! Jesus, full of young women with bared cunts. Blond haired some of them, I bet, thought Johnny. Yes, he was a dark haired Italian boy who loved the blond girls, the white-skinned, the blue-eyed Swedish and German girls in his school; Johnny had to imagine whorls of blond hair around teenage pussy and almost ejaculate; Johnny moreover secretly thrilled at going nude in a nudist retreat and being looked at by blond haired girls and women, having them laugh at the buck naked, dark Italian fella with the bend in his cock. Laugh at his erection. "Oh look at that boy's banana prick!" In his pants Johnny's fleshy foreskin peeled back as his Bolognese sausage of a penis inflated and stretched. Its thick, curved six inches tented his pants front; the two girls flicked their eyes in its direction and grinned. Johnny quickly folded his legs.

Suddenly Miss Cuff, the drama teacher, entered- all cats eyes glasses, brunette hair piled high, blue stockings- and looked at the four abashed, seated youths. Her eyes showed a flash of satisfaction as if to say, "Ahhhh, these ones, the athletes! I can't wait!" She opened the door to the doctor's rooms and swept through, leaving a wafting smell of husky perfume and cigarette smoke in her wake. 

Jimmy Fraser jolted with terror! Miss Cuff? The terrible Miss Cuff? She who had designed the musical production in which girls were fully dressed as cowgirls, boys reduced to wearing tiny frontal flaps as Red Indians with nothing on the rear? Virtually naked. Bottoms bared. Who had made him- a tall, lean fella with bulging Adam's apple- stand nude on a chair at that recent rehearsal and who had fiddled close-up with a re-fitting, staring at his privates throughout? A nose length from his prick, her breath tickling his pubic bush. What was she doing here...here, where they were going to have not another rehearsal but their medical examinations?

He looked at Mark. Both sets of eyes registered horror.

Then Mrs Reilly appeared. Mrs Reilly- Brewer's preeminent lady whose heritage house hosted cosy afternoon teas where she presided like a queen and the town's mothers shared stories of their schoolboy sons; where youths in trouble with the local police were required to work stark naked in the garden, yes totally stripped off; where these days Mrs Reilly even presided over sessions of nude discipline and supervised masturbation enacted by 18 year old boys and their stern Moms.

Mark Campbell, the swimmer, blushed as her glance took him in. Mrs Reilly had seen him totally nude, naked and erect. Oh God, she had stared! She had seen his mother strip his underpants off him, in her living room surrounded by smirking girls and women; had seen him spanked over the knees, with the cleft of his bottom flaring open; had seen him sitting naked on her settee being masturbated by his mother and had seen, yes, his big explosion. He remembered her looking him right in the eye as he had sat there dazed, next to his Mom, his sperm trailing off the tip of his nose and draining downwards from his sternum. Him dazed, guilty, diminished. 

Now her gimlet gaze pierced his soul.

Right now Mrs Reilly was dressed as a nurse. Yes, a nurse! White uniform with pleats and pockets, and a little white cap. She looked ridiculous...and sinister. She glanced at Mark and the other boys, seemed to sneer, then opened the door and entered Dr Speight's precincts.

"Hell!" muttered Jimmy, under his breath.

"Shhhh!" commanded Sally. "No talking!"

He glared back at her.

"Or we'll make you strip to the buff...here!"

Jimmy and the others froze.

The two girls laughed.

"You see, we're in charge. The girls are in charge. In Brewer."

Who could doubt it?

Some more moments passed.

Jimmy joined Rodney and Johnny in struggling to hide an erection. Poke! A forceful jut in the front of his pants. The girls swiped his lap with their lubricious glances and smiled.

The door opened and another schoolgirl, Laura Greensleeves, poked her head out.

"The doctor wants Rodney Ricketson first and..."

Here she broke up into giggles.

"...the other boys have to..."

More giggles.

"...strip down..."

The two girls joined her giggling. They were three giglets. This was going to be a day, they thought, to remember for the rest of their lives.

"...to their underwear!"

"Here?"

Mark Campbell asked the question, looking around with some desperation- at the open door to the busy corridor, at the two girls standing in the corner.

"Yes. Doctor Speight wants to save time. And..."

Here her giggles erupted all over.

"...and she said that Sally and Gloria have to help you. Help you undress and arrange your clothes."

The boys gulped.

From inside a deep female voice demanded Rodney Ricketson. It was Dr Speight. She did not want to waste time. There were a lot of young men "to examine and shave." Shave? Shave? The boys looked like they had been slapped. But right now Rodney had no alternative but to crouch to his feet, sheltering his erection and struggle into the doctor's quarters, bent over.

She was at her desk. Beyond, a curtained doorway indicated the examination room. On each wall were anatomical charts and drawings. All featured male figures. One huge chart displayed a sectoral diagram of male sex organs. It made Rodney blush. The place smelt of hospital sanitiser and medicine. But on an easel stood one of Mrs Reilly's oils: a Victorian scene of a nude boy emerging from surf, and fully-dressed girls, their white dresses billowing in the breeze, watching from the sand. 

Rodney absorbed its simple and terrible message: boys go nude, girls stay dressed looking and laughing.

Dr Speight stared at his midriff which Rodney was trying to shelter.

The boy shuffled. Bent forward. Eyes beginning to water with fear and embarrassment.

"A sporting injury?" she asked disingenuously, nodding at his middle. "Or bad indigestion? You sure look...troubled."

He began to shake his head. Thought better, and nodded.

Yes, indigestion...or an injury. Whatever, he seemed to be indicating.

Either way he had indicted himself.

He had made the case for an immediate examination.

"Alright..."

She seemed to be reflecting.

"Alright, I will need to inspect. So...everything..."

She nodded at his lower parts.

"...off. Everything. You can put your clothes on that chair."

He started like a deer suddenly caught in a hunter's lights. Oh, no: here it was happening again. Getting nude in front of a female.

Worse than the shaming nakedness, he would be showing her a bolt hard erection. 

It would confirm he got excited at being nude in front of a woman. He knew she was aware of his personal record on these things. She had been at the punishment session hosted by Mrs Reilly where he and his friends had been stripped and spanked because of their group masturbation over those nudist magazines. At the punishment the mothers and girls had even inspected the magazines, stiffened as they were with the boys' congealed ejaculate. Dr Speight had appeared especially interested. Mark had said he had seen her stuffing them in her briefcase. Moreover she had seen Rodney at the last rehearsal when his old jockstrap had burst and his erect penis had sprung free. Again, that affair added to the accumulating evidence that, placed in front of women, Rodney would sport an instant erection. Proving he was a sick boy, a pervert.

If he showed her an erection now...

"But...now..?"

"Yes. We have a busy morning. Quick. Everything. Off."

He turned and faced the chair.

He couldn't look her in the eyes while he stripped. She would therefore view him from her seated position, seeing him side on. See his erection in stark profile.

His trembling fingers worked his shirt buttons. It took twice as long as normal.

He drew the shirt off, aware of the whiff of fresh sweat. He hung the shirt over the chair; struggled with his shoes, with his socks, nearly tripped.

"Oh, be careful," she counselled, her tone one of mock concern. Her sympathetic words made her sound like June Allyson.

He was loosening his belt when the door opened.

He glanced sideways. It was Karen Strawbridge, the heavy girl with red hair in plaits who loved- just loved- catching the boys naked at swim class. And Susie Smyth, also with glasses. Her with the mousy hair, and blazing curious eyes.

"Oh, that's nice. Karen- just the girl we want. And Susie. Just in time to help young Rodney with his things."

The boy caught their salacious grins, the flash of recognition between school girl and school doctor. He paused, with his hands on his belt buckle.

He froze.

"Hurry up, fella. We've got an examination and some other stuff to get through."

What?

These girls were gonna stand here? 

While he peeled off? 

He was trapped. Again. 

The old, confused feeling came back. He let his belt fall free, struggled with his fly buttons.

Would she let him keep his underpants? This was his biggest concern. He let his pants slither to his heels. He hobbled out of them. Lifted them, looked around. Karen was reaching for them, grinning like a crocodile. He blushingly handed them over and noted that her eyes had fallen greedily to the large tenting of his boxer shorts. He now paused, frozen, looking at the wall. He was aware his penis was up at 90 degrees and its swollen, outsize head was clearly outlined.

"Well?"

He still couldn't take the next step.

"Karen and Susie, Rodney seems shy about taking his shorts off. Why don't you help him? There, just draw them down."

Rodney placed his hands over his front.

But Karen and Susie were already bent by his side, smiling devilishly, fingers clutching the hems of his boxers. On cue they both hesitated, looked up, caught his eye and grinned. Then in one decisive move, still looking him in the eye, they drew them down...over his thighs...his knees...down his calves...to his ankles.

Rodney was nude. He shivered.

Standing in profile to the grinning girls, on one side, and, on his other, the seated doctor.

Hands pressing his cock into his groin, desperate.

"Good girls, you will be fine mothers one day. Now Rodney, I want you to complete the task. Bend over and step out of them and hand them to Karen. Or Susie."

He obeyed. He bent and took his boxers in his fingers and stepped out. As he did so his penis bounced in front.

Even to him its mushroomy head looked freakish. And the tangle of bright red pubic curls. And the low hanging testicles.

He shyly handed the shorts over. Their eyes blazed as they riveted on the splendours of his groin. He melted inside. 

Here we go again, thought Rodney with an inward groan. Females staring at my cock. Making fun of it. Giggling away. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Dr Speight's stare. She looked scientifically interested. Then she reached into her desk and pulled out a note book. She told him to sit down at the chair in front of her desk. 

She directed the girls to go through the curtained door to the examination room. They moved off, giggling.

Rodney was seated. He was naked, without a stitch. His penis projected from his lap. He couldn't cover it. Trying would look stupid so he let his arms rest along his thighs. His penis reared from his groin as if it insisted on reaching for the ceiling.

Doctor Speight looked at it as she lifted her pen.

She told him she had some questions before the examination. It was part of a survey for the Kinsey Institute at the University of Indiana. They were very frank questions but his name would not be used. If he had objections...well, they could invite his mother in to talk.

He gulped.

"No? Then we can begin..."

But first there was a bustle around the door and three more girls appeared. Tall, skinny Millicent Moore had eyes bright and blazing, roaming all over Rodney; Lucy Childe with pert baby-doll features...she manoeuvred to stare down at Rodney's lap. And there was Delcia Forrest...oh no, a girl- the pretty, daring girl- who looked like Doris Day...with a big cheeky smile...OH NO! I like her, thought Rodney, I don't want her to see me nude! 

Rodney started with fear: he was sitting stark naked! He quickly swung one leg over the other and then bent over, leaning forward to shield his midriff from view as the females seemed to surge around him. Staring down at the naked boy and giggling and talking with the doctor and staring down at him again and giggling again.

He was acutely aware he was without a stitch, sheltering an erection.

Looking a comic sight.

He shivered with embarrassment.

Dr Speight told the giglets they were to go through the curtained doorway and wait until the session was to start.

"And its rude to stare!" she added, with a hearty laugh making light of the fact that all of them had been peering down at the seated boy sheltering his lap as best he could, deliciously caught in his birthday suit. Stark naked.

"Oh, do we have to go? Can't we stay...and watch?" It was Delcia making this suggestion. Laughing at the naked boy. But giggling, they exited.

The rest of the examination is best described by Dr Speight's report which can be located in the Kinsey files along with 5300 interviews with male subjects, conducted between 1938 and 1963. Her interview with Rodney is referenced under the following categories: male exhibitionism, adolescent sexual practices (male, Mid-West, senior high school) and spontaneous orgasm.

She described the subject objectively. He was "19, of Northern European ancestry, athletic, with mediocre grades, from a family where the departure of the father has caused anger on the part of subject's mother and elder sister; subject therefore lives in a female-dominated household and seems to seek relief in YMCA, sport competition and gym-based activity; subject has exceptionally large and unusually shaped genitals and red body hair."

She went onto describe the interview:

"The subject was deprived of all of his clothing for the full duration of our time together. In other words, I enforced an identical setting to that prevailing during an interview with another boy from this school, John Enrico Marcello (see file 698 reference Male Medicals, Grover Cleveland High, Brewer, Minnesota, July 10, 1956.) 

"During our interview, the current subject was seated before me completely naked; later, he was in the examination room standing for measurements, still naked, and lying on a examination table, a dozen females of varying ages were in attendance. His nudity seemed at once to tremendously distress and excite him. As I shall relay, excite him to full, spontaneous orgasm.




School Doctor Strips Schoolboys Ch. 02



"This top-to-toe nudity is a variation on the Institute's method of face-to-face interviewing. I thought in the circumstances it was justified. It proved to be, in fact, the optimal situation for extracting data about his sexual activity and preferences, the Kinsey goal. Stripped to the buff, in front of a female doctor (and fully erect throughout) it was as if he had nothing further to hide. I doubt if any other condition would have seen him so candid, so forthcoming, about intimate details of his life. Indeed I would recommend this as standard interviewing technique for subjects with exhibitionist tendencies.

"To repeat, subject was naked, seated, on the other side of my desk; I was behind the desk, asking questions. At the risk of repeating myself, his answers, in these circumstances, flowed more freely than they would have in other settings.

"The interviewee has not achieved normal coitus with a female but has been engaged in episodes of heavy petting with three different girls his own age. Location: back seat of family car and living room of girl's family. On no occasion did he achieve orgasm. On a single occasion he claims an unattractive girl his own age masturbated him at his request to relieve the embarrassment of being seen naked and to eliminate a persistent erection before a modelling assignment. 

"One explanation for his masturbatory hyper-activity might lie in the unprecedentedly over-developed glans penis the subject displays. In all my school medicals, easily close to one thousand, I have never witnessed a glans fatter, more pronounced or fully developed. Such a concentration of nerve endings, combined with his uncircumcised status, should appear to explain his constant sexual excitement.

"His fantasies all involve forced and shameful exposure in the nude before females who are fully dressed. These females may be his own age, his mother's age or his grandmother's. These fantasies, he confirms, often involve medical examinations before female doctors and nurses (cf Johnny Marcello case study, also from our Brewer, Minn. interviews referenced above.) These were his earliest sexual fantasies and produced his first orgasms as a 15 year old.

"Sometimes his day-dreams involve being sighted and stared at by female spectators at male swim contests where young males are forced to compete naked. At his school and Brewer YMCA boys swim nude, sometimes with females in attendance. He both dreads and seeks-out such situations. He also fantasises about being trapped by sister or mother in the act of self-pleasuring, both events that have been actualised. Another fantasy, increasingly in use, relates to presenting himself before women and girls in a nudist establishment and being embarrassed by an obdurate erection. These fantasies have been fed by Scandinavian and American nudist publications to which the subject has a high level of responsiveness. Increasingly, he concedes, his fantasies admit notions of being spanked in the nude by a (dressed) mother-figure with girls his age in attendance and older women.

"He has engaged in group masturbation on two occasions with males his own age. On the second occasion he was one of four boys who were completely undressed. The act was witnessed and aborted by his mother. The boys were responding to stimulation offered by magazines which featured photographs of nudists. Those photographs which appeared to excite them most showed males their own age naked with females their mothers' ages; or with confident and well-developed teenage girls, the naked males cast in submissive, subsidiary or junior roles.

"This incident of group masturbation in a state of total undress and with the magazines, shocked subject's mother and the mothers of the other boys. It gave rise to a punishment regime which has seen the subject forced to strip completely before his mother (and, on some occasions, his sister and 20 year old female cousin) and be spanked by her and then required to masturbate before them. On other occasions he has sustained identical punishments delivered by the mothers of his accomplices, again with other females present- that is, the sisters of his friends. 

"On one occasion, which he found at once traumatic and thrilling, he was punished nude before a large group of females (an act witnessed by the author.) The punishment climaxed in masturbation performed on him by his mother with females young and mature-aged looking. He admits he finds this memory uncommonly stimulating and this was confirmed by the copious emission of Cowper's fluid during our discussion of this occasion and his memories of it.

"My view is that such punishment represents the best chance of a normalisation of subject's immature fixations, what might be called his 'personal demons.' Yet any such normalisation is likely to take some time and require patience by his mother and medical supervisors. On the other hand repression of his urges is likely to see his fetishistic impulses congeal in his 20s and stay fixed for life. This would be unhelpful in his adjustment as an adult and involve hardship to his family.

"Throughout the interview the subject was unflaggingly erect. He sheltered his genitals when other females entered our space on their way to the examination room. As the time approached for the full examination subject begged to be spared the humiliation of being seen by a female group, especially while erect. He cried and fell to his knees in a beseeching gesture. I stood at my desk. In an undervoice he indicated he did not want to be seen- and here I can only record his incoherence- 'With...while...with this...when I...' and gestured to his groin. I took it to mean he did not want to reveal himself to a party of females with an erection. 

"'Well, Rodney, make it go down,' I ordered, with a tone of impatience. He indicated with a mixture of sobs and gestures that this was the one order he couldn't obey. Then he said something like 'Can you...' with a furtive and diffident gesture indicating masturbation. I acted shocked. 'Will...you..?' he asked, stumbling over a request. '...help...me...get rid of it?' It was clear from the context he was asking me to masturbate him. 'You mean, like that girl you spoke about, the unattractive one, who helped you banish your erection?' I asked him. He confirmed with nods that this was what he wanted done- he wanted relief that would enable him to enter the examination room without the embarrassment of the full erection he was sporting so ashamedly.

"I gave him no answer but told him to stand up so I could inspect him. I shifted to a low stool. He stood before me with hands hanging at his sides. I took his penis in my (ungloved) hands and subjected it to examination. He jolted when I first touched it. The head was enormously over-developed and strongly sculpted, again unprecedentedly, at least in my years of medical inspections. It resembled a huge plum and was spongy or mushroomy to the touch. He admitted to being uncircumcised. There was no sign of a foreskin, so tightly was it retracted (I gently explored this part of the penis stem, to his mounting concern.) The frenulum was jowly. His response to it being touched by the tips of my fingers suggested it was acutely sensitive. 

"The ventral part of the penis stem was decorated with numerous small blue veins but dominated by a pulsing, wide ventral shaft clearly instrumental in the stiffening that was proving so stubborn and embarrassing. In respect of this ventral vein I must admit the description 'industrial strength' came to mind. I carefully palpated its length (during which time subject sighed and lightly moaned. I suspected he was close to involuntary climax.) 

"I moved lower. Surprisingly the testicles, which I began to delicately explore, remained loose and low hanging with the large stones clearly demarcated. The scrotum sprouted fine, ginger hairs that would not long survive the attention they were about to receive, as they were to be whisked off in the shaving that the boys were to have, along with the almost sculpturally-curled red pubic hair. I could not help regretting this planned sacrifice while at the same time looking forward to the process, to his humiliation and to the transformation it would represent.

"I fingered the testicles at length, marvelling at this work of nature, a dangling home for the testes separate from the heat of the body- dangling here between male thighs, enjoying their relative coolness, lolling in their roomy scrotal home. Subject was emitting short, deep breaths during this examination. I was excessively gentle, knowing that later the girls were likely to be less considerate. I admit I drew it out, especially when I came to explore the spermatic cords. I firmly pulled his scrotum sideways with one hand and pressed deep with the fingers of the other. In response he acted alarmed and his low murmuring recommenced; I felt close to some denouement.

"I moved on to palpate the dorsal side (or upper side) of the penis shaft. I used thumb and two fingers, feeling for lesions, scars or swelling, beginning at the distaff end of his penis and moving to the mons pubis. The shaft was distinguished by a very pronounced dorsal vein forming a high ridge line along the stem. I palpated its length half a dozen times, slowly and deliberately. When I tapped his erection bounced. His breathing now was reduced to short, quick gasps. The handling was clearly arousing him further. I was not about to stop, however. He would have to endure my attentions longer.

"I returned to the mushroomy glans and after palpating its soft flesh I lightly stretched and squeezed so the meatus opened and twisted in what, if a mouth, might have been salutations and exclamations. I might say his urethral opening was deep and long. I should report the emission of Cowper's fluid was voluminous and it was trailing to the floor as well as soaking my palms and fingers.

"Subject sucked in a deep breath. His penis bucked and throbbed.

"I took this as a signal.

"I removed my fingers and rose from the stool.

"He sighed, whether with relief or disappointment I could not tell.

"I told him that he would not be 'relieved' at my hand. No, I would not masturbate him if that is what he had in mind. I didn't think it was right in the circumstances. He would have to enter the examination room as he was. I gestured at the erection rising from his groin, still hard as concrete. I explained that the girls present were interested in medical careers and would benefit from seeing a youth with 'a full, textbook erection.' One day they would have husbands and sons of their own anyway. As for his teachers, they would have little interest in what he looked like 'down there.' 

"He protested desperately that he saw these teachers everyday. How could he ever 'look them in the eye again?' He argued that it would 'hurt his feelings' to be viewed like this- god knows where they pick up this language, probably from TV- and 'fellas' his age don't like girls to see them naked. They would get to see 'everything,' he complained, looking plaintively down at his genitals. I told him I had contrary evidence; many males loved the prospect even if the females remained dressed; after all, in our interview he had just told me he was stimulated by this very notion. He had told me he thought about it constantly and it brought him to orgasm: I conveyed puzzlement. Why was he so bashful? He could not answer this question which goes to the heart of a young exhibitionist's dilemma, wanting humiliation and fearing it. He was reduced to inarticulate protest. 'But...but...but...'

"I took him by his ear and moved with him through the curtained entrance into the examination room, him hobbling and protesting all the way, trying to shelter his genitals though I think with little success..."

Enough of Dr Speight's report to her Kinsey colleagues in Indiana. Her report is in their files today, along with a bulging account of Rodney and his adventures right through his 20s.

We can tell the rest of the story of that day through the reminiscences of the girls and ladies.

Milly Slink, with her gaunt face and mousy hair, was there, eagerly taking in the view of the nude young athlete being led by his ear. Wow! Her eyes popped. Was she glad she had been allowed to come! With that story about wanting to be a military nurse! But...right now...as she saw through her Coke bottle glasses the dangling scrotum that Rodney couldn't hide as he moved his hands in front of his long, erect penis, she really, truly did want to be a military nurse...and participate in these inspections on a daily basis! There it was- the lovely "coin purse" that she had learnt boys have hanging between their legs. No, in Rodney's case, more a drooping, capacious bag. She had seen its lovely, loose folds during the punishment session at Mrs Reilly's, and had got to mop them with a wet towel after his mother had made him ejaculate. 

That had been the high point of her adolescence.

She had revisited the wonderful moment on a nightly basis, under her sheets.

She longed to fondle his testicles properly.

A trail of saliva appeared at the corner of her mouth as she stared.

There, too, savouring a prurient inspection,were Mrs Reilly dressed as a nurse; and her two Negro maids. Dr Speight had insisted on their presence: they were needed to help in the shaving and there were a lot of boys to be shaved today, one after the other. 

Rodney looked wildly at them and the other gathered females. Hell! There were Mrs Carruthers and her Negro maid, Yuela. Rodney gasped at this! Yuela! Who had fussed over his groin fitting him out for his Indian costume! Breathed into his pubic hair, as she wriggled the loin cloth into place, while he stood on a stool nude and erect!

And a crowd of girls from his school...

Girls! With big grins!

Lotsa them!

Everywhere he looked!

Looking at him!

Down there!

At his hands pressing his cock into his abs, at his dangling balls!

"Rodney, over here...up on the scales."

The doctor was wasting no time.

Rodney hobbled across and stepped up, hands pressing hard, cock kinda covered but balls dangling free. 

"And girls..."

Doctor Speight summoned them to stand close.

"...this is the way scales work. Milly...Veronica...look in, close..."

And standing still as a statue Rodney could feel their breaths on his ribs as they fiddled with the mechanism and measured his weight, aware that- his back to them, on the scales- the females were enjoying a full view of his ass cheeks and deep cleft.

After much fiddling and correction they had it right.

"Okay," said the doctor. "Next thing..."

Oh no, thought Rodney.

"...next thing...is...measurements."

And she steered him to stand back to the measuring rod and handed tape measures to several of the girls.

As Rodney obeyed her, placing his back to the wall, he caught the greedy, gimlet stares of Mrs Reilly and Miss Cuff.

He wished that he had never gone to Grover Cleveland High, never been born in Brewer.

He stood, facing them, hands pressed to groin.

Dr Speight asked Laura Greensleeves to move in and measure Rodney's height.

She did, breathing on his shoulder. He could hear her breath as she fiddled.

"Well?"

"He's six foot and three quarters of an inch, Dr Speight," reported the girl.

"Yes, a big boy," cooed the doctor.

Rodney lifted his gaze. He saw Milly and Susie and Delcia and Sally and Gloria hovering before him, clutching tape measures.

What would they measure? His chest? Waist? Would they make him drop his hands from his groin? No, surely...

"Sally, you can measure Rodney's shoulders..."

The girl bloomed and beamed, and skipped forward, eyes ablaze.

"...so, Rodney..."

The boy froze expecting the worst.

And it came.

"...put your hands by your sides."

On cue, every woman and girl registered an expectant smile. And fastened their gaze hungrily on the boy's hands that covered at least some of his rampant manhood and the scrotum that dangled from them.

Rodney's hands stayed glued to his stiff cock, pressing it into his lower abs. But he felt the air around his ballbag and their eyes on its folds.

"By your sides, Rodney." The doctor sounded firm.

A pause.

Then.

The boy obeyed. Arms fell to his sides.

His penis bounced into its classic position. Its textbook position. Out and up at 45 degrees.

He clenched shut his eyes.

The audience marvelled. 

Mainly at the huge, plum-like glans. Yes, plum-like, thought Mrs Reilly, in a reverie. The knob was like a rich, ripe plum jammed onto the end of a wide, white stick. And she marvelled at how loose the ball-sack was, despite the tugging force of the erection. 

Milly and Susie and Gloria and Laura and Veronica and the others stared, without, perhaps, Mrs Reilly's detailed connoisseur appreciation. Still Veronica did take in the network of fine, blue veins on the stem. Delicate, decorative. Milly wondered if she would get to...what was it Dr Speight had promised during the briefing? P...p...pal...palpate...yes, that was it, palpate a boy's penis here during today's examinations. Palpate was Milly's word for the day. She looked forward to palpating Rodney's penis. She shivered.

Negro maid Yuela, so familiar with the content of Rodney's groin from the fittings, viewed the rampant rod as an old friend. It was nice to view it again. Mrs Reilly's two Negro maids, Rosa and Rowena- girls from Mississippi- relished staring at a naked white boy. Staring at his exposed cock and, as it happened, making him shrivel with shame when he caught their glances.

Dr Speight ordered the girls to measure Rodney.

Milly moved in and stretched her tape along the width of Rodney's right shoulder. He felt her breath. He swung his head way, eyes clenched shut. Veronica advanced and embraced Rodney's chest. Her head was inches from his. The tape rubbed his nipples. This gave him a thrill. Her arms reached behind and her chest rubbed his as she joined the two ends of the tape measure on his back. Then Sally moved in and embraced him around the waist taking a big close up view of his erection as she leant in close. He felt her breath in his pubic bush. And- God!- Delicia was on her knees in front of him and was pressing the end of a tape measure in his thighs, just behind his balls, breathing...on...his...scrotum! Delcia was sooooo close! She loved it! Rodney Ricketson's prick and balls!

Hell! They were all over him! 

Up close!

"Doctor, the boy's thing...his penis...is leaking!"

Veronica was pointing. His meatus was emitting a colourless fluid, trailing to the floor.

"Ah, yes," said the doctor. "It is a fluid, known as Cowper's fluid or pre-ejaculate. It appears whenever a male is ready for reproduction. Or sexually excited. It lubricates the act of sexual congress. But it's appearing now because Rodney's instincts are stimulated by being naked- completed unclad, all of him on display- in front of all of us."

The girls smiled benignly and looked him in his shamed, terrified eyes.

He wanted to faint into the floor.

There was a knock at the door.

It opened. There was Gloria Smedley with the other boys stripped to their underpants.

"Oh good, bring them in," said the doctor.

The ladies stirred expectantly.

The girls stared hard at the almost naked Mark Campbell, Johnny Marcello and Jimmy Fraser as they were guided into the room, shuffling and down cast.

Yuela, the closest, suddenly giggled loudly.

"Goodness! Look!"

She was pointing at a big tenting in the front of Jimmy's boxers. The fabric jutted forward, straining the whole front. Johnny's front strained too; it reflected an erect, banana-bent appendage, rearing up.

"Golly...gosh."

The exclamation came from Milly, drooling conspicuously down her chin, staring at the boys.




School Doctor Strips Schoolboys Ch. 02



The other girls laughed. Jeepers, she was so awful.

Milly blushed.

"Enough. We've got to finish Rodney."

The doctor ordered him up on the table.

"On your back. Don't be shy. We've seen everything."

His erection jutted out in front, emitting fluid, as he lowered his body.

The females gathered.

He lay flat before them, arms at his side, his erection along his belly dominating the landscape.

"Now," said the doctor. "You recall my description of 'palpation?' Well, we now have a chance for the girls to learn how it's done..."

Rodney grimaced.

The doctor whipped on her gloves and forced her way to Rodney's side.

The girls pressed in close. What a view! Of the underside of his...his thing!

"The goal is to use thumb and two fingers..."

She gestured.

"...to gently feel your way, from what you will remember with the charts I called the distaff end of the penis...or, the boy's glans...the knobby structure, mushroomy to the touch...all the way down the shaft...such a lovely long one we have here...oh yes, not all you see will be as long and as thick as Rodney's...to...the...mons pubis..."

And her hand moved slowly along Rodney's length while the boy shuddered.

"...feeling...for...any scars, swelling or lesions...that might be caused by..?"

The girls momentarily stopped staring at the underside of Rodney's equipment.

"Do you remember, Milly?"

Milly was hypnotised by what she had been witnessing and dumb with curiosity and lust.

It was Delcia who answered, eyes falling again to the boy's penis.

"For warts or sores. For venereal disease," she offered. Delcia stared as they spoke. She imagined sucking Rodney's penis.

"Good girl. Why don't you go first. Beginning with Rodney's glans. Remember..."

"Yes, to check the meatus, the urethral opening..."

"Brilliant, Delcia! Nice to find a girl who can bring herself to take a keen interest in the anatomy of the opposite sex. Now pull on some gloves."

"But, Doctor..."

It was Milly, behind Coke bottle glasses, making an urgent re entry.

"...aren't we forgetting. To first, check his..."

Here she was overcome. Seemed to choke with embarrassment. Or some other emotion.

"...his...hair...his pubic hair?"

"Why yes, Milly. And...since you remembered our briefing, why don't you assume some gloves and make a start, even though Rodney is about to lose all that bush..."

The boy started. Lose my...bush! Whaaaad?

"...you check his pubic hair and then, Delcia, you can palpate his penis."

Interest among the females quickened.

Rodney, spread before them on the table with the underside of his long, wide, white penis displayed like a cannibal delicacy, clenched shut his eyes. His abs flexed with fear.

Plastic gloves snapped onto hands. 

Snap. 

Snap.

Dr Speight steered the two girls forward.

"Like this," she instructed Milly, running her fingers through Rodney's red, scrolled pubic curls. She grazed his erection. "Do it thoroughly. The idea is that you check the boy for lice, scabies or nits."

Behind her Coke bottle glasses Milly's eyes widened and moistened. The disgraceful trail of saliva flowed from her lips. She was quaking.

Rodney opened his eyes. Trembled as he took her in. Jammed eyelids shut again. This was horrible.

Then her fingers were intertwining his curls. Hell! He was so sensitive down there! And she was grazing the dorsal side of his prick as she threaded her way around, separating the whorls of hair. He shook with the strange feeling...

But the doctor was showing Delcia how to palpate the stretched underside of the penis.

Taking the stem between thumb and two fingers...

...tapping or stroking the boy's penis as she moved stealthily along its attenuated length.

While the doctor fingered away, making Rodney shake and shudder, underneath his erection Milly's fingers were threading his pubic curls.

The sensations were almost too much for Rodney. He arched his back, eyes clenched, features strained.

"Stop that!"

And Doctor Speight slapped his upper thigh...striking half his scrotum!

"Owwwwwww!"

The boy howled and bucked!

"Goodness," exclaimed the doctor."We might have to hold him. He won't stay still. Yuela, take an ankle. And Mrs Reilly, your girls can help. The other ankle...an arm. And Miss Cuff...

"That's it the four of you. Pull him tight, just like we had to with the boys at that spanking. Yes, hold tight. And we can get on with what we have to do: teaching girls how to be nurses. Delcia, you take hold of his penis...yes, how decisively you take over! That's it...gently...between thumb and fingers...press gently...along the length of his erection. Yes, that's it, press it. Remember, you're looking for any lesions, scars, swelling or bumps. Milly back to the hair...round and round...and examine the gloves...anything on them? No? Fine...now back to his hair...this time...examine the fine hair on his scrotum..."

The girl swallowed. She paused, as if to savour the prospect before her. No Parisian gourmet weighing the season's first truffle or Corsican cheese could have rolled her tongue more hungrily. 

She reached for his groin.

Rodney felt her shaking fingers on his balls, finding hairs to stretch and ruffle. 

Tickle. Tickle. Tickle.

But Delcia had a complaint.

"Doctor, all this goo coming out...it's just flowing! Out of his...his...his slit. Look, all over my hands!"

She sounded disingenuous. She was "acting up."

"I mean...can it make me pregnant?"

"No, silly girl, pre-ejaculate is harmless. No color. No odour. No taste. Look..."

And she reached to Rodney's glans, ran her gloved fingers around its sculpted landscape and scooped up some of the thick flowing emission and- astonishingly- stuck her fingers in her mouth. Moved her jaws. Tried to taste it.

The girls looked, mouths agape.

"No taste. You try."

Veronica whispered to Karen, "Our little friend, Delcia, will be in that!"

Delcia had a reputation for "sucking off" boys to distract them from other demands in the back seats of cars. On these occasions he had swallowed their emissions, grown to like the tart, gooey taste. She did not hesitate.

She reached for Rodney's big shiny glans, ran her fingers around it and placed them in her mouth.

The boy lay, held rigid by four females, while this indignity unravelled.

"Ummm! Nice...but, yes, no real flavor. Pre...pre...pre..?"

"We call it pre-ejaculate or Cowper's fluid. Milly, why don't you..?"

There was no hesitation.

Milly who had never had a date let alone done "back seat bingo" with a boy in a lovers' lane or drive-in, was now savouring the taste of a boy's emission. In her life there had been no experience to compare. She greedily took another swirl and plunged her fingers into her mouth. She smiled, drooled, and thought something about it made her think of childhood experiences with ice cream cones.

Some girls expressed plain distaste. Others an impatience for their turns.

"And any of the other girls? A taste of Rodney's nice, clean emissions? This is the most practical biology lesson you have ever had."

And one by one, even those who had frowned with distaste at the idea of tasting his pre-cum, now approached the boy's midriff, reached for his slimy penis head and swirled off a generous helping of fluid. "Wow! It's so sticky!" said Gloria. Then they cast eyes at the boy's face- frozen in terror- as if to say, "Look what I'm doing!" and jammed their fingers in their mouths. As the old poet put it, "Those who came to mock remained to pray." In this spirit girls who had greeted the invitation from the doctor with curled lips of disgust now sucked loudly on their fingers and chimed with "Umms" and smiled broadly and reached for more.

He felt hand after hand on his knob, wetting their fingers at the flowing faucet on his grand prick.

If anything the flow of fluid from the broad slit, the boy's meatus, became thicker, trailed stronger.

"A once in a lifetime experience," exclaimed Doctor Speight. "Go back, girls, for seconds. And Miss Cuff, you too."

Rodney went rigid with fright. Miss Cuff? His drama teacher? To taste his pre-cum? While he lay here...nude...erect...his arms and legs held tight. He couldn't believe it. They were seeing everything he had. Close-up. And getting, one after the other, to feel his prick. Run their fingers through his pubic hair. Touch- oh, this was terrible- his balls! And even to taste his lubricating fluid! Looking down at him and grinning all the way!

And now his drama teacher, Miss Cuff!

Her eyes glowing behind her cats eyes glasses she advanced. With a flash of her red painted finger nails her right hand reached and took firm hold, as if Rodney's penis were a gear stick. Held tight. Savored its strength. Tightened again. She made the boy gulp, gasp. Then she scooped the trail of free-flowing fluid and raised it to her mouth. Paused. Sniffed it. 

And sucked her fingers.

"Yes...tasteless..."she opined, dreamily. "Nice, fresh...straight from...that."

She nodded at his rod.

But after this interlude, the doctor decreed the palpation and inspection of pubic hair must recommence.

How to inspect pubic hair.

How to palpate a penis.

These were for Doctor Speight the pedagogical challenges and she fussed and corrected and repositioned each girl as the young lady, having donned the gloves with a businesslike SNAP! set about the task of threading Rodney's red scrolled pubic bush in pursuit of lice or nits. Threading through those very private curls. Or felt his penis stem between thumb and fingers- firm but tender, up and down, from mushroomy glans to base. Or, having given his triangle of hair the all-clear, moved onto finger the fine, curled hair of his ample testicle bag...

Rodney began to twist and turn his head, eyes clenched. He was roiling with strange emotions.

The maids and Mrs Reilly grasped his ankles and wrists tight.

He was helpless. Feeling their eyes all over his privates, all over his naked athlete's body.

He felt...

...close...

...he tried to arrest the sense- oh, so familiar a sense- of a rising sap.

He knew where it would lead, this feeling.

And with each girl the fingering of his pubic bush got more...well, delicate...a hundred little tingles were being set off...they were tickling him, in his pubic hair...and the brushing against the dorsal shaft of his penis was getting more tender...his eyes were clenched...but his mouth was working, his tongue at his lips...almost gurgling like a baby having his tummy tickled...meanwhile, another girl was working her way up and down that stem...applying pressure a little lightly...or firmly...tentative...or...decisive...it was unbearably pleasurable...oh, oh, oh thought Rodney...

Meanwhile he thought of the outrageousness of what was happening, lying here...his arms and legs tugged tightly...without a stitch...with a rock-hard erection...drooling its tell-tale fluid...and all these females around him looking down...and these fingers at work!

The girl had stopped feeling his penis stem and, on Dr Speight's instructions, was giving light slaps to his scrotum, ever so gently...

It was this "jiggle juggle" game the girls of Brewer had taken to: "jiggle the scrotum to make the testicles juggle." And Laura Greensleeves was doing it now!

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

Rodney was being transported.

Into another universe. Where time had stopped and wide, warm rivers of humiliation and pleasure had joined and flowed strongly together. His horror of what might happen soon- him shooting his load- alternated with a terror that the whole thing might stop and he would be spilled again into the mediocrity of life in Brewer.

"I wonder if Rodney's nipples are sensitive? So many men's are, yet they are ashamed to admit it. This we've learnt from the Kinsey studies."

The doctor produced a pair of medical tongs and gently pinched Rodney's left medallion, already erect.

The boy stiffened, as if electrocuted. His nipple became stiffer, widened and lengthened. Like a clitoris, thought more than one of the ladies.

"Yes, I think Rodney likes that!"

It was Mrs Reilly commenting.

"May I experiment?"

And she took the tongs and moved to the boy's other nipple. With the tip of the instrument she teased and coaxed. It was a fleshy nipple, and it rearranged itself, getting thicker and longer and standing right up.

"I have never seen such ample nipples on a male," opined Dr Speight.

The females leant in close.

For the next few minutes girls and ladies took turns teasing Rodney's titties while the threading of his red pubic bush and the palpation of his erection continued, each of the females getting her turn at the pleasant tasks.

Miss Cuff observed that he seemed to be enjoying the examination of what she called "his chest." She was now applying the tongs, gently squeezing his left medallion with a tickling motion of the metal.

"Look," she said. "At the expression in his eyes."

His eyes were open, but not seeing a thing, glazed with a hypnotised, faraway look.

"It's shameful...he's loving it!"

"He's almost purring...like a puppy having his tummy tickled!"

"But he must be embarrassed...with us, seeing everything he's got!"

"Right now he doesn't care. Look at him!"

Rodney was floating...

But in danger of spilling.

His balls and his stem were on fire.

Then it came, rising from his balls...it came with a pulsing surge.

While Sally worked on his curls and Rowena, the maid from Mississippi, applied tongs to his tits Milly was hard at work on palpating the erection. Her's were the guilty fingers that had squeezed his penis a little tighter than might have been expected and she knew something was occurring. The boy went rigid. His rod jerked. Then he whimpered. Girls gasped and giggled, looked on intently. He writhed ("Holy cow! Is he gonna be sick?" Brenda Wainscot wondered.) 

Then whoosh! And a silver rope of emission shot out, over his head and splashed on the apron of Mrs Reilly's maid, Rosa, as she stood holding his right arm. Then he went taut again, writhed and another rope flew out, splashing on his forehead and nose. The females were enthralled. Entranced. And then another cannonade of fluid shot out, pooling on his sternum.

An Alpine-fresh aroma of a young man's ejaculate flavoured the air. "Its so fresh!" thought Gloria. "Maybe Delcia has the right idea...suck them off and swallow it! " 

More semen drained and dribbled out of his slit. His enraptured audience were speechless.

But their minds were racing. Yuela thought fondly of the fittings of his loin cloth Indian costume when the poor boy had stiffened and blushed beet root red. How did he feel now, lying flat on a table with all these females looking down on him? And shooting off his jism just like that! Rude, gamey Delcia speculated on the day when she might get to suck on Rodney's big wholesome, white prick and bring a load like that into her mouth, to swirl it around, to savour its taste...and swallow. Milly thought that it was an honor to be here as part of the female team and see this ejaculation close up and to know that her touching had helped bring it about. "May I clean him up?" she brazenly asked Dr Speight who directed her to the towel folded on an adjacent table.

There was not much more to be said for the moment.

"But we should get these other boys ready," ordered Dr Speight.

And like a shoal of fish changing direction the females swung to face Mark Campbell, Jimmy Fraser and Johnny Marcello.

The boys were standing trembling, in their boxers.

Their tented boxers.

The females faced them, while Milly carefully mopped up Rodney.

"Well," reflected Dr Speight. "Well."

The boys looked at her through big, frightened eyes. Dreading what might happen next.

Girls stared excitedly. Miss Cuff glowed, focused on the tented fronts of the boxers. Tented- and splotched with moist spots. For her, they could not be stripped quick enough. This was the motivation, the centre of her whole being, her core fetish: seeing teenage boys stripped in front of females and embarrassed and shamed and humiliated to the point of surrender.

Mrs Reilly switched between each fella, loving the bulges in their shorts and the fear in their eyes. She remembered seeing Mark naked at the mass punishment she had hosted at her house. She recalled his swimmer's build, his well formed white prick. She relished seeing Jimmy and Johnny stripped and humiliated, rendered bare...nude...buck naked...naked as jays...in the buff...reduced to their birthday suits (what a spirited phrase that was, and it was always applied to boys, never girls! Birthday suits!)

"Now boys," said Dr Speight. "Slip out of those underpants. We need you ready...for your examinations...including measurements...and your shaving."

They gulped with fear. Jimmy's Adam's Apple bobbed. A look of disbelief flooded Johnny's features- what? In front of all of them? Mark nearly fainted at the instruction. Hell! He was being told he had to show his resolute erection to Veronica, to Milly, to Susie...all in his class; to Delcia- a friend of his sisters'; to Sally and Gloria- who went to his Methodist church on Elm.

And what was this business about shaving? On a table in front of them there were spray cans of shaving cream, a plate of cheap razors, small folded white towels, bowls of steaming water.

"Please slip your underpants down."

They froze.

"Now."

They felt the girls' eyes all over.

Their hands went to their elastic waist bands.

Again they hesitated.

"Jimmy, down...or I send Gloria and Sally to peel them down. And they will do it ever so slowly and you will want to die of shame."

Gloria and Sally grinned and started forward.

"N...n...no!"

And Jimmy took his underpants and slid them to his knees.

Whoosh! He was nude.

A heavily-veined erection sprang forward.

He did not cover it. He was paralysed with his shame and knew covering would be useless anyway.

The big slit in his glans smiled at the audience.

His large balls hung in gothic folds of scrotal flesh, the left one lower than its partner. Comically his boxers stretched from knee to knee making him look trapped.

As one the girls giggled.

"Mark...you next."

The swimmer gulped, blushed.

He obeyed.

He slithered his shorts down, slowly. 

He revealed blond pubic curls. 

Lower...

And in a flash a substantial erection sprang forward, seemed to bounce as it found its angle.

He looked at the floor. Jimmy had not covered his cock. Mark would obey the same unwritten rule. Arms by his sides: like a soldier on sentry duty.

"That's it...

...but, Mark and Jimmy...

...when we do medicals...

...proper, full-body medicals...

...we have boys stand with hands behind their heads..."

Hell! This was really obscene, they thought.

They obeyed. Hands behind their heads.

They felt even more revealed. All their fronts revealed, as if puppies on their backs. Jimmy's boxers were still stuck at his knees, Mark's were pooled at his ankles.

The female eyes were bulging.

"So now its Johnny's turn."

The Italianate fella gulped and looked distraught.

"Johnny, off with them."

He took hold of the band and slowly, reluctantly...slid them to his calves where they stretched from leg to leg, making him too look trapped.

There was an intake of breath as they took in the banana bend, his glans pointing back at his groin.

None had not seen a cock curved as boldly.

Rosa and Rowena loved the row of stark naked and shamed and humiliated white boys.

Delcia vowed that in the next few months she would methodically suck off each of those pricks.

"These three boys have very well developed testicles," said Mrs Reilly.

Some girls nodded.




School Doctor Strips Schoolboys Ch. 02



"Yes, hard to fit in those loin cloths,"said Mrs Carruthers, recalling the fitting room humiliations she had inflicted.

"Yes," agreed Miss Cuff, the drama teacher. "You might say we have three young bulls here..."

Girls guffawed. Dr Speight smiled benignly. All looked at the low-hanging scrotums. Yes, each boy's hung low, notwithstanding his full, pulsing erection.

"...no, four," Miss Cuff added, looking over her shoulder at Rodney- still lying on the table next to Milly, with her Coke bottle glasses, protectively at his side- Rodney, whose ballsac had impressed her whenever she had seen him nude.

Meanwhile Rodney's attention had been caught by an object on a side bench: a thermometer. Standing up. Thicker than any he has seen before or had dreamt existed. Thick as a really thick candle.

Milly caught the direction of his glance.

"Oh, that's the thermometer we're gonna use...soon. Dr Speight has been training us."

He looked unbelieving.

"No, it doesn't go in your mouth...in fact, they use it on cows...and bulls!"

Bulls! Here she looked at his lolling scrotum. Yes, how true it was. Like a young bull, she thought.

"It's gonna go..."

Brazenly her gloved palm cupped his sack. She bounced his balls, his young bull's testicles. He shivered at the feeling. Felt the tickle travel up his cock. Then her hand wandered south, along his perenium. It...felt...so...thrilling. Again he shuddered at the exploratory feel. Then her fingers fluttered at his asshole...and she pressed her middle finger at the pouting, little hole.

Pressed hard.

Her gloved finger entered his hole. Just. Hell! Her finger had penetrated! Parted his flesh! He shuddered again.

"...in here!"

He gasped.

She pressed harder and grinned down at him. Her gloved finger entered his sphincter, up to her knuckle bone.

Ahhhhhhhh! 

"Yes, in here...that big thermometer!" And pressed deeper.

Meanwhile Dr Speight was inviting the females to move in and inspect and measure the standing boys. Naked and erect.

Three of them, standing stock still, arms by sides.

These privates, on parade.