Germ

Germ 1

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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[Germ, Chapter 1
[A boy must serve as life model for art class

Postage Stamp
[Alpenhorn 2019]

1.

[Jeremy’s POV]

Germ, (I say to myself) do you regret choosing this chastisement?

Here I am: On a platform in the middle of the cafeteria; fifteen of my classmates gawking at my (almost) naked body.

Yes, (I answer myself) of course I regret it.

How did I end up here in this humiliating predicament?

You see, I hate pain. Especially my own pain. And I hate humiliation. Especially being seen naked.

Last Fall, a prank we attempted at the school went wrong, and I was the one who got caught. So I had to choose a punishment from THE LIST that the Principal keeps in the office. Of course: pain or humiliation happening right away—today or tomorrow—made me crazy to avoid them. Something happening far in the future seemed to be the best choice. So I chose “art model”. I knew there would be nudity, but that was still weeks or months away.

But now, here I am. Naked (almost). Rapid pulse; quick breathing; skin prickling (as if I can feel their eyes); maybe a little dizzy. It is too late to make another choice.

I think back. Now I realize that some of the other items on THE LIST would have been better. I could have had only two minutes of pain, and ten minutes naked in public. So much better than posing an hour per week for a whole term.

Art is one of the “Specials” in our school. We move from our usual classrooms to our chosen activity every Wednesday during the last hour of the school day. The other Specials are things like sports, or music, or cooking, or science. So only fifteen kids are here for art—for life painting. I am their model. (Fortunately none of my close friends are here. They all chose other Specials: soccer or band.)

Each week I select a pose from the brochure, and that is what I do in that hour. Some of the poses allowed a clothed model—I did those first. Then I did the partly clothed poses. But they are running out.

Last week the pose was Diver and I wore nothing but a skimpy Speedo. I stood on the platform for 55 minutes, hands above my head, as though ready for a dive. The painters gawked at me—my naked ribs, my naked underarms, my naked belly, my naked back, my naked legs, my naked feet. It was awful for me.

Mr Elwin, the teacher, started as usual by pointing out things for the painters to watch out for. My ribs. My fledgeling six-pack abs. And (for those standing behind me) “Try to get the shadows to show the rounding of Jeremy’s rear-end.”

That was last week.

This week, there are just four poses left. Only the one called Postage Stamp has any coverage at all for my naked body. So I reluctantly choose that one.

As usual, there is a privacy screen around the platform while I get ready.

My prop is not really as small as a postage stamp. It is more like a handkerchief. A small square made of white cloth. Thin white cloth.

Today the posing platform is supposed to be a beach. There is a beach lounge chair. I am to be naked. I am to lean back; my torso horizontal; my head supported; my arms bent at the elbow hanging down on the sides; my legs bent at the knee hanging down on the sides. The chair is wide, so my knees will be far apart. And this tiny square of cloth is all I have to cover my private parts. I arrange it to hang down and reach the chair between my legs; the other edge reaches far enough to cover my dick. Almost. I tuck the sides in as best I can. I think I achieved: balls not visible at all, dick scarcely visible.

It’s time. Mr Elwin folds up the screen. The kids are at their easels, ready to begin. And I am on the platform, almost naked. Fifteen kids are all looking at me.

Last week posing as Diver was difficult for me. But this is ten times worse. I feel nausea, like I might throw up. It is a close thing, but I manage not to throw up. I am quivering all over. My arms, my legs, even my tummy. It’s like when I shiver from the cold. (But I’m not cold—the room seems to be at the perfect temperature for nude modeling.) I’m just weak and quivery.

After ten or fifteen minutes the quivering mostly stops. But I still have an ominous feeling in my stomach. And as I said: Rapid pulse; quick breathing; skin prickling (I feel their eyes); maybe a little dizzy.

I have to hold this position for 55 minutes. Mr Elwin calls to me “Hands in position!” if I scratch my nose. Or “Feet in position!” if I move one of my feet.

2.

[Tommy’s POV]

I selected the “art” option for my Special. I chose art for the last few years, and I liked it.

When we met for the first time, Mr Elwin told us that this year we would have a live model to paint. The same model would pose every week for the whole term. When I heard that, I was happy.

But then Mr Elwin surprised us. Some of the poses during the term would be nude poses! I wondered how that would work. A naked lady posing for a bunch of kids?

Then Mr Elwin surprised us most of all. The model would be a student in our own school. He introduced Jeremy, who was there with us. (Even if his real name is “Jeremy”, everyone always calls him “Germ”.)

Germ was wearing his baseball uniform. I had watched many of the games last summer. Lots of kids running around in tight uniforms—what fun to watch. Germ was not my favorite player, but I certainly knew who he was. Was I imagining—even back then during the summer—naked players in the locker room after games?

So now it seemed that Germ would pose for us to paint. For the first session, he held a bat as though waiting for a pitch. It was my first time painting a live model—I didn’t do a very good job. But I liked looking at Germ anyway. At this age he didn’t show a bulge in the front of the trousers. But the back was a nice-looking “bubble butt”.

I had to ask around the school to find out why Germ had to pose nude. I found out: It was part of a punishment for some school infraction.

Over the following weeks we painted Germ in various outfits. And what he wore became less and less. By now I have improved my painting a lot. I can easily mix the skin tones I need for Germ.

This week the pose is “Postage Stamp”. We are painting Germ wearing almost nothing.

Some of the kids try to imagine a background for their paintings to tell some sort of story. But usually I just paint what I see. That is what I am doing today.

3.

[Eve’s POV]

Mr Elwin folds up the screen. Now we can see Germ, wearing even less than last week. He is just about naked!

I begin painting sand for a beach below, blue for a sky above. And the lounge chair in the middle. I just sketch those. Then I am ready to do more detailed painting of Germ himself.

So much skin. And it is so pale.

When I do Germ’s face, I can see that he is struggling with his feelings. And why not? If I were up there on the platform, I would be pretty bummed myself.

Of course the most interesting part of the painting is right between his legs. Mr Elwin said that white square of cloth is known as a “postage stamp” to emphasize how small it is.

On this side we can see Germ's inner thighs. Last week when he had on only a Speedo, his legs were close together so we did not see this!

On the other side we can also see more than last week. More of Germ’s belly. The creases going downward. And—I think—even the beginning of his cock! There is no visible pubic hair. Even I have some pubic hair—but they say girls get it before boys do.

I examine (and paint) the cloth. I carefully show all the shadows and folds. Can we guess from this how big his cock and balls are? Or is it just my own imagination?

4.

[Jeremy’s POV]

“Okay everyone,” Mr Elwin calls. “Five minutes left. Pack up your paints. Take your easels to the closet.”

Finally the hour has passed. It seemed more like two or three hours.

Before I move more than an inch, Mr Elwin says “Jeremy, stop! Hands and feet back in position!”

“Why?” I ask. “Nobody is painting anymore.”

“You are here not only as a visual aid for the artists, but also as a punishment. Remember?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“So stay there until the bell rings.”

After the kids put the paints away, they mill around and talk, waiting for the bell to ring. They do that every week. But today, some of them come closer to get another look at me. And—lucky me—I have to just hold still and allow it! If I close my eyes will it be easier? No, what I imagine is worse that what I see.

Tommy quietly asks the other kids, “After painting Germ again and again, what do you think are his best and worst features?”

“I like his long eyelashes,” says Meredith, “even if it is hard to paint them.”

“His knobby knees are ugly,” says Karen.

“Did you notice his eyes are not quite the same color?” asks Eve.

“You know,” Sally remarks, “I used to think his best features were his abs—the abdominal muscles. But now I don’t know. Today we saw his glutes—the buttock muscles. They may be better.”

They talk as though I am not here.

“Next week should be amazing,” teases Meredith.

“Why? What’s next week?”

“All of the poses left are totally naked. Germ will not even get the postage stamp!”

“Ooh. You mean we will finally get to see Germ’s—um—thing?” Mary asks.

“That’s right!” Eve shrieks.

Meredith explains her thoughts: “Germ is one of the cutest boys in the school.” Some others are nodding and smiling. “Next week we get to judge the cute-i-osity of his last remaining bits!”

Of course, everyone is now looking at my dick. Or at least looking at the little white handkerchief covering it. I guess they are all imagining what they will see next week.

I feel a stiffy coming on. I start to move my hands down there. But Mr Elwin is right by my head. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and commands “Hands and feet back in position!”

So I stay in position. My dick slowly stands up. There is nothing I can do about it. Of course everyone is watching. The boys seem uneasy, but the girls are wide-eyed.

Mary is right beyond my knees, where she can see between my legs. The white cloth is moving up. “There’s Germ’s butt crack!” she calls.

Kids move to look.

Mr Elwin squeezes my shoulder to remind me not to move.

“There’s his balls,” Mary reports the progress quietly.

The tip of my dick is a bit wet (did I wet myself?), so the handkerchief sticks to it. Even when my dick reaches full extension, standing tall and lonely, the white cloth is hanging down on all sides, still covering it—well, most of it.

My pulse is racing, as everyone gawking can easily see.

I intensely feel their eyes on my dick (just as I felt their eyes on my bare skin before). The nausea is coming back.

I am aware of “teacher authority” from Mr Elwin's hand: so I must just hold still and endure.

“No, Eve!” Mr Elwin says. Eve stops: she was reaching forward, to pull off my “postage stamp”!

Finally the bell rings: school’s out. The kids leave. I have ten minutes to get dressed before the janitor comes in to move the tables into place for tomorrow.

Germ (I say to myself), you have three weeks left. You have to model three more times. The remaining poses look ominous:
▪︎ 6. Starkers
▪︎ 7. Anal
▪︎ 8. Hard

How will I get through them?

(End of File)