Naked in School-Kevin and Denise
On the way to school, Denise and I had also spoken about how she would work gym to avoid the boys’ locker room as much as possible. Being on light activity really helped because she wouldn’t need to shower. We decided that she could put her sneaks on before and drop everything off everything at her hall locker instead of needing a gym locker. That way she wouldn’t need to use the locker room at all. And she could just dash through the lockers into the gym.
We delayed our walk to the athletic wing, waving off a few confused stares at our state of partial dress. Denise got one Request to display herself; she stretched her arms out and said “Ok?”
The guy said, “But you need to do it naked!”
She responded, “I am. Under my permitted safety equipment.”
The guy muttered to himself as he hurried away, “What the hell....”
Then the warning bell rang. We were given three minutes from the final bell to be in the gym.
“Here’s the locker rooms. The guys will all be rushing to get on the floor. You’ve already got your train... er, sneakers on, not changing anything, so just zip straight through to the gym. You’re ok on what to do afterwards, right? Cool.”
I left her and went into the girls’ lockers. It felt strange. There were a few lockers designated for Program people, incredibly with no built-in locking capability (guess they figured if you had no clothes you didn’t need a lock), so I shoved my stuff in and slipped on my—uh, sneakers and took off my cycling tights. Then I pulled on a tight jock and cup. Shut the door, snapped on my lock, and ran out to the gym. The feeling of cool air on my exposed ass was weird!
Apparently Denise and I were the only two Program people in the class and both teachers zeroed in on us.
The male teacher, forgot his name, shouted, “You two! What’s the meaning of this clothes violation? Get those clothes off instantly! You have thirty seconds or you get a Program violation.”
“Sir,” I responded, these are Program-sanctioned safety equipment which is specifically provided for by the Program rules.”
“They are not! A jock is only for a contact sport and a swimsuit is certainly not protective! Take them off, now!”
“Sir, you can check with Dr Fletcher. He’s already approved our selection of safety equipment.”
“Nonsense. He can’t do that, the choice of safety gear is up to the teachers.”
“Dr Fletcher told me not to argue with teachers so I won’t. You can either find out from him or just start the class.”
“I don’t like smart-alecks...”
I held my temper. “Please! You have a choice to make.”
“Yeah. I’m calling the shots now. Your choice is either 100 or 500 laps around the track, now.”
“Sir? Today I’m not accepting that suggestion. It borders on abusive coercion; demanding that a student do a five-mile run for an arbitrary reason. Shall I make that an official complaint or are you withdrawing the suggestion?”
“Ok, I’m putting you on report for ignoring the instructions of a teacher and sending you to the assistant principal’s office right now for discipline.”
“I have to decline again, I’m afraid, sir. My instructions are to stay with Miss Roberts.”
“You are going to the office and we are going to help Miss Roberts to disrobe.”
She gasped and shrunk to me, holding onto my arm.
“Not a problem, Denise. Let’s go.” I took her hand and led her toward the stack of mats. “Let’s continue those exercises in meditation now.”
“Where are you going?” the teacher shouted.
“To our gym activity,” I called back. “A special Program gym activity.”
Denise snickered.
He started walking toward us. I put up my hand. “No, sir, don’t come closer. Your actions are posing a perceived threat to our personal safety; you implied that you were considering an assault.”
“WHAT? All right, this will stop. I’m having the principal come here at once.”
“Please do.”
Fletcher arrived five minutes later; the male teacher turned his section over to Miss Williams and went to him. I heard the conversation, at least the teacher’s part. He was quite loud. He quoted to Fletcher what I had told him, quite accurately, actually. Fletcher spoke to him and I could see him physically deflate in resignation. Fletcher walked over to us.
“I’m sorry—I should have given those two teachers a heads up about you guys. Mr Marshall (oh, yeah, that’s his name!) is an ex-sergeant in the Marines and not used to being questioned. I told him about your special needs and said that your statements were accurate about the protective gear. You may rejoin the class.”
“Thanks, Dr Fletcher,” we both said.
We walked back to the class and joined our respective groups, getting glares from the teachers, which we ignored.
Soon the whistles blew and “Showers! Hit it!” rang out.
Denise didn’t need a shower; she didn’t need to change either, so I took a deep breath (time for more fireworks), opened the girls’ locker room, and both Denise and I walked in. I looked around; this was really cool, seeing bunches of pretty, partially clothed chicks changing clothes. I had to look away then because my cock was beginning to stir and was becoming painful. We went to my locker and then I saw nicks and scratches all over my new lock and on the locker door around it. I looked around as a girl passed by.
“Oh, that’s your locker? You can open it?”
“Yeah, why?”
“The custodian was trying to open it before; when I came in to use the facilities I saw him with a big pliers thing trying to get it off. I assumed that someone was locked out.”
I asked for her name and then she left. Now I was really annoyed.
Just then Miss Williams came in. “Miss Roberts! You can’t be in here! Program people must use the opposite-sex locker rooms! Go there at once.”
Here we go. “Miss Williams, the rules specifically state that the USE of restrooms and gym prep facilities shall be done in the opposite-sex’s room. It does NOT deny the person the right to be physically present IN the room of the same sex, unless she is using the room for its purpose. Miss Roberts is simply standing here, being present, but is NOT using any of the facilities here for any purpose,” I explained.
There were chuckles throughout the room.
“The Program requires that Miss Roberts shower in the boys’ room; she has to be there.”
“True, if Miss Roberts were to take a shower, she would use the boys’ room.”
Denise spoke up. “I have no need for a shower, Miss Williams.”
“Really? Ok, then for your next class, we’ll be certain that you’ll need a shower.”
“Have you overlooked my doctor’s letter that states light activities only, Ma’am?”
Miss Williams stomped away.
“Denise, look. See how the lock’s scratched? He must have been trying to cut it off but couldn’t because of the shrouded hasp. I wonder why he was trying to break in. I think I’ll pay him a visit.”
I could skip a shower today since I hadn’t broken a sweat. Denise told me that she could hang out in the hall with the Guardians, so we went to the hall and found them waiting there; then I returned to my locker and switched back to my cycling tights. I was happy when I realized that I had gym again this week only once more, on Wednesday.
History class was next period.
When I got to History, Denise was already outside the classroom and she and her Guardian were dealing with Requests—mostly answering questions about why she was wearing a swimsuit instead of being naked. Then the first bell rang, allowing Denise and me to duck into the room. She turned to me.
“Kevin, thanks for all you did in for me in gym! And I had a blast with standing up to Williams.”
“Yeah, you did good, too.”
“Hey, I just thought of it—you think we’ll get called when the Program people come this afternoon?”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Yeah, they may come today; we’ll see.”
Well, they didn’t and we spent our History and English Lit classes in peace. When the dismissal bell rang, Denise ran off to her locker to get her stuff because her mom was waiting to take her to her therapy session. She shouted a quick “good-bye” as she dashed out. I followed her to be sure that no one would bother her for a Request, but she got to the door and her clothing box, grabbed her clothes, and was running to the car before many kids had arrived for the dressing show.
The other Program kids had begun arriving and were getting dressed as quickly as they could to avoid being delayed for Requests. I had cheated on the dressing part; I had an extra pair of shorts and a shirt in my locker so I dressed in those, went to my box, and retrieved those clothes. I knew that this was a Program violation, but I didn’t really give a damn. Also, I didn’t think anyone would actually care if I was dressed when the school was empty. Then it occurred to me that I could just leave my outer clothes in my car before school and get them when I left. Yeah, need to tell Denise that, too. I suddenly recalled that I had to visit the custodian’s office. Finding it took several minutes of wandering.
When I located the custodian’s office I knocked, then went in carrying my lock.
“Sir, I was told that you tried to cut this lock off in the girls’ locker room earlier today. May I ask why?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say.”
Uh oh. “Can you tell me the authority that gives you the right to enter a student locker without a legal search warrant?”
“Doesn’t need a warrant. Just an administrator’s request... uh, forget that.”
Ah-hah. “Maybe I will, if you tell me which administrator requested it, or shall I call the police and file a charge of attempted burglary? There were witnesses to your attempted break-in, you know.”
“Mr Abover told me.”
“And what did he say to do after it was opened?”
“That the Program person lost his key and needed his clothes. Bring him the clothes.”
Hmmmm, maybe Abover thought I would strip more for gym; actually, I did. Only wore a jock. He was trying to steal any of my remaining clothes to humiliate me, I guess.
“Ok, sir, I’ve decided not to do a police complaint if you write down what Mr Abover told you and sign it, ok?” He reluctantly did that.
Well, I’m getting quite a collection of signed documents from all kinds of school and Program personnel. Maybe when this is all over, I’ll make a scrapbook—or frame them.
I drove home, trying to think how I could use the custodian’s confession against Abover. I hoped I would get a bright idea soon. When I got home, I changed into some “reasonable” clothes and drove off to the med school hospital.
My instructions were to go to the urology clinic. I found the clinic and signed in. Soon I was called to an exam room where a nurse took my vitals and asked why I was there. This is so strange. They have my records and can see the diagnosis and can’t tell from that? I told her and she left, telling me that the doc would be right in. Two minutes later Dr Worthington came in.
“Kevin, I’ve asked a colleague to join us. She’s a specialist in sexual dysfunction and many of your symptoms are related to people who suffer from premature ejaculation, we call it PE, in fact the most common problem men experience after a repair of phimosis is premature ejaculation and your problem seems to be like PE on steroids. Any changes since Friday?”
“No, sir. But you mentioned that you’ve seen kids with problems caused by the Program?”
“Yes, I’ve seen penile abrasions and testicular trauma in some boys and a few UTIs—that’s urinary tract infections—in girls that I traced to manipulation of their perineum with dirty fingers, and I’ve heard from some colleagues in the Ob-Gyn department that they are seeing all kinds of new vaginal problems ranging from blunt trauma to internal infections.”
“Ok, then you might be interested in this,” and I took out some pages that described our website and gave instructions for docs to access it and asked him if he could quietly spread the word about the site. He seemed to think this was a good idea and said he’d read the pages. Just then there was a tap at the door and a woman came in. Dr Worthington introduced me to her, Dr Carey.
He continued, “Dr Carey’s looked at your chart and had another thought about your symptoms.”
She spoke, “Good to meet you, Kevin. Yes, I mentioned your symptoms to a neurologist and he told me that it’s possible, but not likely, that this could be a pudendal neuropathy. That’s basically an interference with nerve impulses in the groin area. I went over your Korean lab tests that Dr Worthington had translated and don’t see anything unusual there, but I have another test that I’d like to do to see if my first theory is correct.”
Dr Worthington continued, “Kevin, if you could come to the lab with us, we’ll do some additional electrodiagnostic testing, evoked potentials, and test your dorsal penile nerve function, and she wants to measure your bulbocavernosus reflex response with more sensitive instruments than I have at my office.”
The testing took about an hour. Some parts were fairly painful but they told me it was because of my condition, that the tests themselves were not inherently painful. I expected to have to wait for the results, but they said that they could see from the gross results, without detailed analysis, that there was some kind of lesion in my penile or pudendal nerves. They explained that in this case, “lesion” meant something like a short circuit; that some kinds of sensory information was getting transferred somehow to the nerve pathways that detected pain. Or something like that. Apparently they think it’s a kind of synesthesia where the nerve impulses get confused and go to the wrong place. No, I didn’t remember all of those medical words. I had them write them down for me (so I could look them up).
Dr Carey told me that her research group was working with PE patients and was developing a kind of nerve simulator that worked through the skin, she found that using it reduced penile nerve sensitivity and potentially might be useful in my case. The therapy involved my wearing the electrode part on my cock when I slept; it had a timer built in and would give me fifteen-minute treatments every hour throughout the night.
Dr Carey fetched the device. It looked like a tiny blood-pressure cuff with a few straps attached. She showed me how to put it on and set it up.
“Before you start, take a little bit of this gel and put a dab on each of these silver circles. Those are the electrodes and the gel allows good skin contact. Make sure your penis is dry. You fasten it like so, facing it in this direction, with the index mark on top. Close the velcro tabs and fasten the straps, yes, that’s right, those will keep the cuff in place. You need to run the wire for the controller to your bedside table so it doesn’t get tangled. Now this other part goes on your back. It’s just an electrode on a sticker. Snap the wire on the sticker’s button here, peel off the backing, and apply it right here on this spot on your lower spine. You need to use a new sticker each night.”
“What’s that one for?” I asked.
“That detects the pulses being transmitted from the cuff through your penile nerves to your spinal cord. It can indicate objectively any improvement as this therapy continues. That wire plugs into the controller here. You can keep the two wires together with these little clips. Plug the controller into a wall outlet and press this button—then check to see that it’s displaying the correct date and time. Use these little buttons to adjust it if it’s not correct, but the internal battery should keep it accurate. When you’re ready to sleep, press this larger button. The display will flash three times.
“You don’t sleep on your belly, do you?” I said that I didn’t. “Good, we’ve noticed that it doesn’t work very well for belly-sleepers.”
“I do wear tights to sleep, though.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem; maybe it’s better because the tights may keep the cuff in place more securely. Now here’s what happens in the morning.
“When you wake up, press this large button again and that will close the data file in the controller’s memory. Then take this cable—it’s just a USB cable, and plug it into your computer. When you turn on your computer, it should ask you whether you want to save the file. Say yes, and then email the file to this address, ok? This sheet has all of the instructions written down and gives a phone number to call if you have any other questions or problems.”
“I understand. A question. What happens if I get an erection overnight?”
“Sure. Yes, the cuff was designed for that. Males of your age actually have those as frequently as five or six times a night. In fact, when an erection occurs, the device actually works a little better. Oh yeah, in the morning you can just wipe off the little bit of gel that may remain on your penis. Sound ok? Well, we’ll see you next week to review how the treatment is progressing.”
“How long do I have to do this?”
“We don’t know at this point. We’ll have a better idea after we have a week’s data to analyze. But you won’t need to spend the next few years on this therapy,” she joked. “So hold that question till next time. See you in a week.”
They left the room and I got dressed. I really hoped that this would work!
After I returned home, I checked my messages and found one from Denise. She wondered if I could meet her because she had to talk to me about her therapy. I called her and she asked me if we could get together at her house; she also wanted to work on the Civics class assignment a little more because she was certain we’d be picked to lead the discussion again. Sounded good to me. After I arrived, she told me her mom was working late but if I wanted, she had prepared food for dinner and there was enough for two. I thanked her and then joked that here we were, two teens in an empty house, Program kids even, yet we’d be safer than if we had a full-time chaperone.
“Yeah, Kevin, we’re two cripples. One emotional and one physical,” she sighed.
I told her about my doctor’s appointment then.
“I’m hoping to get this fixed. Being like this is no fun—you know all about that—but it sure would be nice to be normal.”
While we ate dinner we discussed the recent history of gay marriage, the civics topic that ended the Civics class, and tried to think of specific issues that demonstrated where laws and society mores came into conflict. We came up with a number of examples and she wrote them out for the class. After dinner and cleanup, we went to her living room.
“Kevin, it was a rough day in therapy and I need to talk about it some. I have homework for it and part of the homework is listening to a recording of the session.”
“Really? You recorded it? Why?”
“Oh, she records it; that’s part of this therapy. Today I had to recall as many details as I could of what happened and describe them as if they were happening to me right then. So everything I said is recorded so I can listen to it so I can imagine myself being back when it was happening.”
“I can see why Bob said that this therapy wasn’t easy.”
“Yeah, and part of the homework is listening to the recording and trying to recall additional things, as many tiny details I can, about the times that bastard fondled me. Like what clothes I was wearing, what rooms it happened in, what times of the day, what he said and what I said, even if I was wearing perfume or I could smell after-shave scent on him—tiny details. I’m supposed to make it as real as I can. It’s called ‘imagining’ or something like that.”
“How can I help?”
“Well, while I was bringing back my recollections, I kept getting scared and stopped talking and then Dr Rousis would wait a bit and then prompt me. But I felt so exposed when I was describing it... I guess the therapy is having an effect because it began to feel that I was actually in the room where it was happening. So doing this all alone would be awful; I think I’d freak out. If you could hold me when I need it and stop the recording when I stop talking until I tell you to start it again, that would be a big help.”
“Sure, I could do that.”
“And then I have this sheet with some questions on it to fill out about how I felt when listening to the recording.”
We started her review of the recording. Wow, it was so intense, even painful, listening to her describing what had happened. At first she just concentrated on a general description of the near-rape and then she tried to recall details, prompted by the gentle prodding by her therapist. Gradually her descriptions became increasingly detailed and I had to stop the recording numerous times to allow her to recover. During these quiet periods she told me a few additional details that she recalled so I grabbed a paper and made some notes for her to use at her next session. At times she needed to hold me while listening to her voice; at other times she sat staring with an expression of rage as she listened to her recollection of the event. If that bastard were here, I would have gladly killed him.
We spent about an hour and a half doing this; by then she was limp with exhaustion. I helped her complete the questions on her therapist’s sheet and then suggested that she try to get a good night’s sleep. I left shortly afterward and drove home, kind of exhausted myself. I wondered how therapists could stand this kind of intense emotional exposure. They must have strong psyches to do that kind of work.
When I got home, I decided to go to bed right away but then I recalled that I needed to put on that medical contraption. Oh well, another thing to add to my night’s routine. After I got it all set up, I hit the sack. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered what disasters Tuesday will bring.
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