Tristan’s Day at the Doctor

By PatrickNaked

Copyright 2024 by PatrickNaked all rights reserved

Tristan had the misfortune of needing a comprehensive, ‘in depth’ physical examination on a day when the patient load at his doctor’s office was far beyond capacity, a situation that gave little allowance for his modesty. To make matters worse, the girl he’d tormented for years was tasked with driving him to his appointment and back… and chaperoning him through every moment between.

(This story actually started out to be more realistic and grounded than the usual fantasy. It was going to be loosely based on my early experiences in a time when doctors and nurses weren’t overly concerned with a boy’s privacy. Boys were seen as having no modesty, even if they displayed a very obvious embarrassment at being fully exposed in… and out… of the exam room. Girls were seen as demure and emotionally fragile, so were afforded much more consideration. This rule held true even outside of the doctor’s office, including restrooms and locker rooms at public pools and schools. Despite my best intentions, the story soon devolved into absurdist extremes. Even more so than the usual. The one that was going to be more grounded turned out to be the most ridiculous of all. Hopefully, it’s still entertaining.)



Tristan’s Day at the Doctor

by PatrickNaked


“Astrid?”

Tristan looked sleepy and confused. It was almost eleven in the morning, and the doorbell… more specifically, the fifty times I had to ring it to get his attention… had obviously roused him out of bed. His dark brown hair, which normally held a mild curl, was wildly unkempt and pillow tousled. He looked cute that way. To be honest, he always looked cute. Tristan was thirteen and would be in the eighth grade tomorrow when school started for the year. I was sixteen and was entering the tenth grade. So… cute as he was, he was far too young to be considered anything but eye candy. But he was the kind of eye candy that could give your hormones diabetes.

Unfortunately, eye candy was the only area where he was sweet. Tristan was extremely annoying. Not only did it come naturally for him, he actively worked at becoming the peskiest pest he could possibly be. He’d lived two houses down from me all his life. When we were younger, I’d let him know he was a little kid and I was a big kid. He couldn’t hang out with me and my friends. Even so, he still kept trying to tag along. One day, when he was around eight years old, he followed me and my friends out into the woods behind my house. I decided I’d finally had enough. I convinced him we were NOT friends by pulling his pants down in front of the three girls and two boys I was with at the time. Everyone had laughed till they were gasping for breath. Except for Tristan. His crying was as uncontrollable as everyone else’s hilarity.

As he turned away so we couldn’t see his tiny bulge in front, I decided to reinforce the statement by pulling down his little superhero briefs, too. He shrieked when he realized everyone could see his bare bottom. He stumbled off, tripping and falling more than once as he tried to pull everything up and escape at the same time. He screamed dire, childish threats till he was out of hearing range. It was hilarious.

Tristan’s was the first boy bottom I’d ever seen in person. As I thought on that later, I kicked myself for not pulling his briefs down at the same time as his pants. Then I would’ve had my first boy frontal, too. What a missed opportunity. And the message would’ve been even stronger.

Tristan made good on his threats of retribution. He made me the target of sarcastic remarks, insults, practical jokes, and outlandish lies from then on. The only thing that stopped me from pounding him into the dirt was that cute little face. And the fact that I actually felt a bit guilty at what I’d done to him. Having a conscience can be very annoying. I didn’t HATE the boy. He was just an irritating little kid who needed to stay within his own age group.

If I’d known what I’d have to put up with in the following years, I would’ve taken it all the way by stripping him naked, hanging him upside down from a tree branch by his ankles, and joining my friends in tormenting him for hours. Through the years, I often fantasized about that scenario, making it more extreme every time I revisited it.

A typical Tristan stunt was what he did the year I started developing breasts. He thought my emerging bumps were the funniest thing. One Saturday morning, I went outside through the back kitchen door to get my bicycle from where I always left it leaning against the house. It was still there, but its wheel weren’t. As I stood staring in shock, I heard my father calling from around the front of the house. When I joined him there, I saw an outline of a female body traced out on the front lawn with the kind of chalk they use to put lines on a baseball field. Tristan must’ve stolen it from the school. Where the breasts would be on the figure were my two bicycle wheels. Words were scrawled out in the same chalk, ‘Astrids got boobs.’

I immediately told my parents Tristan was the culprit. I knew this for a fact. We all walked over to his house. His mom sat him down on the couch and demanded to know if he’d done it. He swore he hadn’t. He even cried. He’d used that tactic before. He looked so innocent and pitiful, I almost believed him myself. Except I knew him like our parents didn’t.

They all agreed it must’ve been one or more of the boys from my grade. Sweet little Tristan would NEVER do such a thing. My parents even made me apologize for falsely accusing him. He made sure to flash me a secret smile before we left.

I caught him alone a few days later. I grabbed his arm and marched him around behind our houses to the woods. I held him against a tree with one hand and started unbuttoning his pants with the other. When he tried to fight me off, I got right in his face, nose to nose, and told him if he didn’t stop struggling I WOULD strip him down to the skin like I’d fantasized. Then I’d take pictures of him with my cell phone and distribute them to every kid in his school. And if he told anyone I was the one who did it, his punishment would be fifty times worse the next time I caught him. He might not survive.

He must’ve believed me because he calmed down and let me unbutton him and pull his zipper down. He was crying and asking what I was going to do to him. After all the things he’d done to ME, it felt good to have him completely in my power. I reached into his zipper and cupped his balls through his white briefs. I started squeezing. Lightly at first, but gradually increasing the pressure. His pants fell down to his ankles as he squirmed and cried and begged me to stop.

I continued till I could tell he was beginning to feel real pain and not just the humiliation of having a girl do that to him. As angry as I was, I still didn’t want to inflict agony or injury on the little brat. I didn’t even want to completely humiliate him by pulling his underwear down before I grabbed his balls. I’d dreamed about that, but I knew the difference between dreams and reality. I just wanted to get his attention and make a point.

I stopped squeezing but didn’t remove my hand. I gently rolled his balls around for a moment, appreciating the feel of them. I’d never held a boy’s balls before. I wanted to savor the moment. He stopped crying and his face took on a look of wonder. He hadn’t started puberty yet, but something inside responded to a girl’s hand gently handling his balls. He pitched a little tent in his briefs. I released my hold and laughed. I couldn’t help it.

When he looked down in confusion at what he’d done, he started crying again. He was completely bewildered and humiliated by his unconscious reaction.

I stood there, hands on hips, and waited till he stopped. I waited for a while. These were real tears, not the fake ones he’d used a few days before. When he finally stopped, he timidly asked me if he could pull his pants up. His penis had returned to it droopy state.

I took one last look at the ridiculous sight of him standing there in his underwear with his pants around his ankles. I told him, “I’m glad to see you’ve graduated from Underoos.” Then I gave him permission to get fully dressed. He looked down as he pulled his pants up and refastened them. He continued to look down when he was finished. What I could see of his face beneath that hanging mop of curly hair was red as it could be. He was ashamed.

I walked him home. At his front door, I told him the next time I had to take action, I’d bring some friends with me. And he wouldn’t get to keep the underwear on. I gave him a swat on his bottom and told him to be good. He fled into the safety of his house.

After that, he actually WAS good. For about two weeks. Then the pre-ball squeeze Tristan began to reassert itself and he was back to his old tricks. Mostly. There were no more grand pranks like the bicycle wheel boobies. He kept everything low-key, instinctively knowing how far he could go without provoking another humiliating scene in the woods. So I took that as one for the win column.

Years later I’d remember threatening him with images of his naked body being spread all over school. That had been the most frightening scenario I could come up with at the time. When reality arrived, it was much, much worse for poor Tristan. And I was relatively blameless, unless my enjoyment in events not of my doing was taken into account.

I wasn’t Tristans only target for teasing. Many of the girls at school in his age group suffered under his tyranny. He wasn’t outright malicious. Just extremely cocky and annoying. And he didn’t know when to quit. He’d push things too far. If only those girls would discover what I had… if you pushed back hard enough, all his bravado would collapse and reveal the little boy behind the facade.

His antics had lessened somewhat as he matured. He and I could now manage to be coldly cordial to each other when we met. And since I lived two houses down, we met fairly often. Sometimes we could have an entire conversation before one of us gave in to resentment of past actions and our talk devolved into insults.

But even though our relationship was marginally better, he still had a lot to account for. And I was about to reap some payback in a big way. I hadn’t even planned for it. The opportunity just fell into my lap that morning. And there was no way I could refuse what fate had so generously bequeathed.

The weather had turned unseasonably cold that morning, but it was still going to be a wonderful, wonderful day. The Time of Tristan’s Takedown was at hand.

As I stood there at his front door, he was obviously still half asleep. He looked at me with bleary eyes. He also never would’ve answered the front door in his attire of the moment if he’d been fully awake. He was wearing a wrinkled, light blue Transformers t-shirt and was bare footed. In between the shirt and feet was a baggy pair of white boxers with smiley faces all over them. I took a moment to appreciate the sight. The boxers’ fly was slightly parted and I could see a hint of pink flesh that might’ve been his penis.

He asked, “What are you doing here? What time is it?”

“It’s time for little boys to be out of bed. You have a doctor’s appointment at noon.”

He managed to look even more confused. “How do you know about that?”

“Your mother told me. More on that in a minute. First, I want to compliment you on your choice of underwear. They’re positively cheerful.”

Tristan looked down at himself, then back up at me with his mouth open in comical shock.

He sputtered, “They’re not underwear. I just sleep in them.”

I said, “They’re still underwear.”

“They are NOT. I repurposed them as sleep pants.”

“Yeah. Are you going to let me in or do you want to keep standing in an open door and let the entire neighborhood see you in your ‘sleep pants’?”

Without waiting for an answer, I pushed by him with just enough force to nudge him out of the way. That helped establish my authority. And I DID have the authority to be there. Tristan’s mother had granted it to me earlier that morning. I had full custody of Tristan for the day. I felt a flush of empowerment.

He was still standing in the doorway, looking at me with growing outrage at my intrusion. Just as he was about to say something, we both heard someone call out from across the street. I immediately recognized the voice of old Mrs. Braverman. She must’ve been at her mailbox by the curb.

“Tristan Williams. Why are you parading around in your underwear, young man? Where is your sense of decency? Where is your mother?”

Tristan yelled back at her, “They’re sleep pants,” and slammed the door. He whirled on me with a very angry face. “Great. Now you and that nosy old bat have seen me in my underwear. What a wonderful way to start the day.”

His fly had parted even more. It now qualified as a generous gap. That was definitely penis I could see. Part of the ridge around its head was visible.

I pointed blatantly at his crotch. “You might want to do something about that.”

He looked down and yelped like a puppy. He grabbed the front of his boxers and gave me an accusing look. His face was red.

“You didn’t see anything.” It was a statement, not a question.

I told him, “I saw enough to know you’re circumcised. Maybe you should scamper upstairs and put on some pants. Better yet, go take a bath. Your mother said you’re going to get a very thorough, very INTIMATE physical examination today. You don’t want to be all grubby in any of those out-of-the-way places.”

“I’m not grubby. And I don’t take baths. I take showers. Baths are for GIRLS.”

He was still young enough to say ‘girls’ with a sneer. I half expected him to tell me they had cooties, too.

“And why is Mom telling you about my doctor’s appointment? It’s none of your business. She’s supposed to be here soon to pick me up.”

“That’s why I’M here. Your mom called me and said something came up at work. She can’t take off. Since I have a license now, she asked ME to drive you.”

“But… it’s kind of private.” Tristan looked even more embarrassed. The fist clutching the front of his boxers tightened.

I told him, “Your shameful secret is already out. She told me you have a followup visit at a urologist. I’m guessing it must be a urinary tract infection? You’re a bit young for erectile issues.”

I already knew he’d contracted a case of urethritis. Tristan’s mother had been much more candid than he’d be comfortable with. She told me this condition was often caused by a sexually transmitted disease, but not always. In Tristan’s case, the doctor surmised the sexual activity that brought it about was excessive and aggressive masterbation. I’d laughed dubiously when she told me that, but she assured me it was so. Any rough handling of the penis could damage the urethra, which could lead to urethritis. She’d only told me these very intimate details about her son’s genitals and his handling of them because it was necessarily going to come up during his followup visit.

Tristan’s face was turning even redder. “I don’t have erection problems. Everything… works fine.” His voice trailed off. Maneuvering him into talking about his hardons was fun.

I continued to twist the knife. “Your mother said your doctor is a woman. I’ll give you some advice. When you’re sitting there on the table, naked in front of a female, with your legs spread wide and everything on full display, and she has your penis in her nice, warm hand… don’t think about getting a boner. It’s like saying Voldemort’s name. Suddenly, there he is. You don’t want to get hard and make the dick doctor think you’re some kind of pervert.”

Tristan yelled, “Shut UP. Stop talking about my boners. They’re private.”

I changed my tone of voice from playful to grim. “They weren’t all that private when you and your buddies were peeping at me by my pool that day.”

Tristan shuffled his feet. “I told you. That wasn’t my fault. They made me do it.”

That had been a few weeks before. I had been dozing on a lounge chair by the pool in my backyard. I was alone. Or so I’d thought. As I lay there daydreaming, I heard whispered voices from the other side of the back fence. There’s nothing beyond that fence but the woods. And on that particular day, three horny boys.

Tristan’s friends, Lonny and Todd, are felons in the making. They’re constantly getting into trouble. They vandalize property, they shoplift. I suspect they were the ones who broke into the school one weekend, trashed a bunch of classrooms, and peed on a teacher’s desk. They dragged Tristan along on many of their illegal escapades, maybe even that one.

Tristan may be a little brat, but he’s not criminally inclined. However, he does allow himself to be swayed by peer pressure, especially when it comes from his two larger, alpha-male friends.

He doesn’t ALWAYS give in to their demands. About a week before that day at the pool, as I was about to get into my spiffy new car in the driveway, I saw them across the street having an argument. Tristan was saying, “I’m not going to do it. You shouldn’t either. It’s stupid. And you’re going to get caught.”

Lonny, the bigger one, said, “Sometimes you’re such a pussy. I don’t know why we let you hang around with us.” I’d wondered that myself. He shoved Tristan into Todd, who was standing behind him. Todd hooked his arms through Tristan’s and held him tight. The smaller boy struggled, but was outmatched.

Tristan said, “Because we’re friends?”

Todd leaned down and said right into Tristan’s ear, “Maybe we won’t BE friends anymore. And if you’re not a friend, you’re an enemy.”

Tristan said, “Come on. I just don’t want to do this. If we get caught, I’ll be grounded for a year. TWO years.”

Lonny said, “Fine. We’ll let you slide on this one. But in return, you’re going to have to… you know.”

Tristan apparently knew what ‘you know’ meant, and didn’t like it. “Oh, MAN. I just did it yesterday.”

Todd snickered.

Lonny said, “It’s that, or you make the enemies list. The TOP of the enemies list.”

Tristan tried to shrug off Todd’s grip, but winced when the it tightened.

“Ok, ok. FINE.”

The group broke up. Lonny and Todd left to do whatever nefarious deed Tristan had balked at, while Tristan crossed the street on his way home. As he passed by me, he said, “What are YOU looking at?”

I strangely felt kind of proud that he’d stood up to those thugs. But, unfortunately, he didn’t always show such backbone. Such as that day at the pool.

My back fence is made of wood, and is over six feet tall. It’s intent is to provide privacy, but there are slight gaps between the slats and plenty of knotholes. There’s also a wooden gate in the fence with the same vulnerabilities. I’d never thought to worry about prying eyes till that day.

“Do it, Tristan. Pull it out.” It was Lonny’s voice, recognizable even in a whisper.

“I can’t. Not out here in the open.”

“Todd and I aren’t having any problems with that. There’s a sexy bitch in a bikini laid right out there for our viewing pleasure, and you’re not taking advantage of it. So, pull it out and jerk it like WE are.”

Todd said, “Maybe he doesn’t LIKE looking at pretty girls.”

“Is that it. Tristan? Are you GAY?”

That last word was in a falsetto sing-song voice.

“I’m not gay. Look at my pants. You can see it’s hard.”

Lonny hissed, “Then do it. If you don’t jerk your own, I’m going to make you jerk mine.”

Todd added, “He’s got two hands. He can do us both.”

Tristan gave in. “Ok. Fine. I’ll do it. And I’ll do my OWN, thank you very much. If we get caught, we’ll probably go to juvie.”

By that point, I was closer, almost to the gate. I could even hear Tristan’s zipper going down.

He was still complaining. “I can’t believe this. The things I let you guys talk me into.”

Todd said, “It’s not like we haven’t circle jerked before. We’ve done it about a zillion times.”

Lonny added, “And YOU’VE done even more than THAT.”

Todd made some slurping sounds.

Tristan said, “Shut up. That’s only because you guys MAKE me. Anyway, we’ve never jerked off OUTSIDE. And right behind Astrid’s house. With her only ten feet away. This is way different.”

“Ummm… I’m a bit closer than THAT,” I said.

All three boys shrieked in unison. I’d managed to get within three feet of them without their knowledge. Lonny and Todd were frantically trying to get their very hard and uncooperative wieners back in their jeans. I got a good look at both. Lonny is big for a thirteen year old… and so is his penis. It definitely qualified as a trouser snake. An anaconda at that. I despised the boy, but I had to admit he was impressive. And he hadn’t just pulled his penis out. His ballsack was hanging freely from his zipper, too. I could see enough to tell he wasn’t wearing underwear. A thick mass of pubic hair curled out of his fly. The boy must’ve started puberty at six years old.

I wondered what those balls would feel like cupped in my hand. I wouldn’t stop squeezing like I had with Tristan years before.

Todd’s penis was less noteworthy than Lonny’s. In fact, his was quite small. Still, I liked looking at it, if only because of how much it embarrassed him. And I’m sure his embarrassment was intensified by knowing how little there was to see. Due to its diminutive size, he was having more luck than Lonny getting it tucked back in his pants.

Tristan had only just started pulling his out when I showed up. He managed to get it back into the fly of his underwear before I could see it. But he was still hard, and his white briefs were sticking out of his zipper enough that I could roughly gauge his length. About four inches erect. Not nearly in Lonny’s league, but better than poor deprived Todd. This was the second time I’d seen Tristan with a boner beneath his underwear. It had grown since then.

Tristan couldn’t pull his zipper up with that white fabric tent in the way. “What do I do?” he wailed.

I mentally kicked myself for arriving too soon. Just another few seconds and I could’ve caught all three boys with their wieners exposed, and maybe even whacking away at them. Oh, well. The look of pure horror on Tristan’s face almost made up for the lack of visible genitalia. And he looked funny standing there with that fabric-clad boner sticking out.

Lonny finally gave up trying to cage his beast. There was just too much to shove back inside in its current state. He glared at me with pure hatred. A girl had humiliated him… big time… and that was intolerable. His huge penis was still pointed to the sky with his ballsack swaying heavily beneath it. His hands were knotted into tight fists at his sides.

“You’d better not tell anyone about this or you’ll be sorry.”

I asked, “What are you going to do, you nasty masterbating little boy?”

“I won’t have to masterbate to get off. I’ll make you choke on it, bitch.”

I marched up to him till we were nose to nose. The other two boys were shorter than me, but Lonny was my height. He refused to back up, so his monster meat was pushed up against my bare belly. I could feel its heat.

“Try it, punk, and by the time I finish kicking you between the legs, your ballsack will be a bag of bloody sludge.”

Lonny didn’t scare me. I work out regularly, and my parents insisted I take self-defense classes from a very early age. I was quite capable of defending myself. I also knew when NOT to use physical force. Tristan didn’t know how many beatdowns he’d escaped over the years due to my self-control and that cute face.

Lonny gritted his teeth. He wanted to make more threats, but he obviously knew how ridiculous he looked with his cock and balls out for everyone to see.

I said, “Beat it, kid. And I mean that in both senses of the phrase. But do it somewhere besides here. Take Teeny Tiny Todd with you. As for YOU, Tristan… you stay here.”

After his friends ran off like whipped dogs, Tristan stood before me, shamefaced. He was still poking out of his zipper.

“Why do I have to stay?”

I told him, “Because I expected better of you. I don’t know why, considering all your past behavior. But I never thought you’d jerk off while leering at me through a fence.”

“I’m sorry, Astrid. They bullied me into it. I like to give you a hard time, but I’d never perv at you like this.”

I told him, “But you did. And considering what’s sticking out of your pants, you weren’t TOO reluctant.”

“You’re not going to tell my mom, are you?” His voice was so low I could hardly hear it.

“I tell you what… drop your pants so I can compare it to what your friends have and I’ll keep my mouth shut. You’re going to show me your bare butt, too. I want to compare it to your eight year old ass.”

He looked like I’d punched him in the gut. Or kicked him between the legs. “ASTRID. No, please. I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it. I’ll bet you were hoping I might decide to do a little nude sunbathing.” His face told me this was true.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t make me do this, please. Please, please, please.” He looked like he was about to cry.

“Five seconds, kid. Then I go to mommy and tell her what a pervert her darling little baby boy is. And she’ll believe me this time. You can bet on it.”

The look I gave him clearly said I was serious. He let out a little sob and started unbuttoning his pants. Just as he was opening them up, showing more of his briefs, I heard my mother calling from the house.

“Astrid. We’re home. Where ARE you?”

Great timing, Mom. “Be there in a minute,” I called.

I heard her high heels clacking across the concrete around the pool. I remembered I’d left the gate open. She’d be here at any moment.

I whispered fiercely to Tristan. “You’re off the hook. For now. But as they say, revenge is a dish best served cold. Now, get out of here before my mother sees you.”

As he turned and started to run in the direction his friends had taken, still trying to get his pants refastened around his tentpole, I swatted him on his bottom. This produced a very satisfying yelp. He stumbled and fell a couple of times in his retreat, just as he had when he was eight.

I went back through the gate to meet my mother so she wouldn’t see Tristan scurrying away.

Returning to the present, I asked Tristan, “Did you and your buddies meet up to finish your circle jerk that day?”

He looked down, scuffing a bare foot at the floor. He refused to answer.

“Did they make you do even more?” I made that suggestive slurping sound.

This time his face turned white instead of red. He’d probably thought I was guessing about the circle jerk. But now he knew I’d overheard their whispered conversation. He surprised me with an honest answer. He sounded bitter.

“Yes. Lonny blamed me for us getting caught. He said you wouldn’t have heard us if I’d pulled my dick out to begin with. I had to do… a lot more than usual. I don’t get off on it. Sometimes, boys just do that with each other. When they’re horny.”

I told him, “I know about that. But usually they’re all in agreement. You don’t seem too agreeable about what you do for Lonny and Todd. And I’ll bet they don’t do anything in return.”

“Well… you know. I help them out. They’re my friends.”

I had my doubts about that, but didn’t say anything.

He asked, “You won’t tell my mom or anyone about me doing it, will you?”

He looked VERY nervous. He knew I had no reason to do him any favors.

I said, “We’ll negotiate later. For now, you need to go take a shower and wash off the sticky residue of what you undoubtably were doing in bed last night.”

I leaned down and sniffed at him. “Yep, you smell kind of spunky.”

“No, I don’t. You’re gross.” He raised an arm slightly and sniffed at himself, anyway.

I took on a more commanding tone. “We’re going to be late. So get your butt upstairs and take a shower before I drag you to the bathroom, strip you down, and toss you in myself.”

“I don’t THINK so.” He stomped up the stairs, pausing halfway to turn around and give me an amazingly indignant look. I was already scoring lots of points, and we weren’t even at the clinic yet.

I waited till I heard the shower shut off to creep quietly upstairs to the bathroom door. I wanted to see if I could catch his coming out of the shower. I tried the door knob. Good. It wasn’t locked. Tristan didn’t even consider the possibility I’d dare to walk in on him. I threw the door open and strode in like I owned the place. “Hurry it up, Tristan. We’re going to be late.”

He’d just got out of the shower and was wrapping a towel around his waist. I only got a brief glimpse of bare hip before he hurriedly closed the towel. Oh well. I was still going to have ample opportunities later. I knew something about his upcoming appointment that he didn’t.

Tristan was staring at me wide-eyed. “I could’ve been naked. I almost was. You can’t just barge in on me like that in the bathroom. MY bathroom. Get OUT.” He pointed at the door with an imperious manner, almost losing the towel as he did so. He grabbed it as it was falling. I saw just enough to confirm he was hairless before he managed to pull the towel back into place.

I calmly told him, “Your mother put me in charge today. She knows how you are. She told me to do whatever it takes to get your lazy butt to the doctor on time. That’s what I’m doing. Now stop standing there dripping all over the floor. Dry off and get dressed.”

I remained where I was, waiting.

Tristan said timidly, “Um… Astrid? I can’t do that with you watching. Can you please go?”

Once again, it didn’t take much to make his bluster disappear. Only a few second before, he’d made it a command. Now he was plaintively requesting I leave his own bathroom, a place I’d invaded with no regard for his privacy. It was really too easy.

I figured I’d taken that scenario as far as I could, so I left with a warning I’d be back if he didn’t hurry. As I was going down the stairs, I heard his exclamation. “Bitch.” He didn’t know the half of it yet. Today was the day Tristan was going to pay for years of juvenile escapades at my expense.

He was back downstairs in record time, with damp hair, clean clothes, and a resentful expression. I took my cell phone out of the top pocket of my denim jacket to check the time.

“You barely made it. But your hair’s still wet and it’s cold outside. Your mother will be mad if I let you catch a cold. Bring me a towel.”

He glared at me for a few seconds, then stomped back upstairs to fetch a towel. When he returned, I took it and dropped it over his head before vigorously rubbing his hair all over. I smiled at his protests that he could do it himself.

When I finished, I removed the towel to reveal a head of curly hair even wilder and frizzier than his bedhead from earlier.

“Do you have a hair brush? Go get it. You can’t go out looking like that. Why am I having to think of everything?”

He said petulantly, “I can do it this time. I’ll fix it upstairs. I could’ve dried my hair, too.”

“Your mother said I’M in charge. So, I’m going to make sure everything is done right. Go get the brush.”

Back up the stairs. Stomp, stomp, stomp.

His brush was packed with hair. “Good lord. Have you ever dehaired this thing? You’re a slob, Tristan.”

I was aggressive in taming that wild tumbleweed of hair. Tristan squirmed and yowled while I worked.

“You’re tearing my hair out. I’m going to be BALD by the time you’re through.”

“Like you are between your legs?”

He stopped squirming. “You saw that?”

“There wasn’t anything to see.” I informed him bluntly.

I had one hand under his chin to hold his head still while I brushed with the other. He tried to jerk his head away, so I tightened my grip.

“Owww. You’re fucking MEAN. And a lot of boys my age don’t have hair yet.”

I said, “I don’t know… We’ll ask your doctor about that. She should know how and when boys develop down there. And watch your language.”

He said arrogantly, “YOU won’t be asking the doctor anything. You’ll be sitting out in the waiting room. Maybe they’ll have some Teen Beat magazines you can look at.”

I didn’t say anything. He’d learn soon enough how wrong he was.

Once his hair had calmed down to its natural state, I took his jacket down from the coat stand by the front door and tossed it to him. “It’s cold out today. Wear that.”

His mouth compressed into a thin line. “Stop treating me like a little kid. I mean it.”

“I’m technically your babysitter today. And since big boys don’t need babysitters, what does that make YOU?”

He suddenly looked smug. “You’re not my babysitter. You’re my CHAUFFEUR.” The last word sounded cartoonishly haughty. That was fine. I’d be getting the last laugh.

Tristan was sullen and quiet all the way to the doctor’s office, staring out the passenger window and refusing any attempts at conversation. He didn’t like me being in charge of him, especially with how I was taking full advantage of the situation.

The parking lot at the clinic was packed. I drove around it four times before conceding there were no open spaces and probably wouldn’t be for a while. I finally had to park three blocks down the street. As we walked back to the clinic, Tristan was holding his jacket closed in an attempt to stay warm.

I asked, “Aren’t you glad I made you bring your jacket?”

“You didn’t MAKE me do anything. I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to make me feel like a little kid. Well, it won’t work. So THERE.”

When we arrived, I was surprised at how many people were crammed into the waiting area, even though the parking lot had served as a warning. All the seats were taken, and people were standing around and leaning against the walls. As this was a pediatric practice, all the patients were kids, and for each kid there was a parent or guardian with a sibling or two thrown in occasionally.

I accompanied Tristan to the receptionist’s window. As he signed in, the young woman asked if I was his guardian. I told her I was and gave her the phone number Tristan’s mother had provided to confirm my status. While she made the call to his mother, Tristan told me, “You’re NOT my guardian. Why are they even asking that?”

The receptionist finished the call. “You’re confirmed.”

I asked, “Why is there such a mob here today? This isn’t normal, is it?”

The receptionist rolled her eyes. “Not hardly. There was some kind of administrative restructuring in the local school district, and a few things fell through the cracks. One of them was the physical exams required for students in four different schools to be eligible for sports. Somebody finally realized only yesterday that TODAY is the last day. If these kids don’t get their medical pass today, they can’t play. And since this clinic is the designated health provider for the district…” She shrugged. “Every exam room is full. They’re even tripled up per room, but only for the boys. And with the new guardian protocols, that’s making for some VERY unhappy patients.”

Tristan was starting to look nervous, as if he’d had some premonition of the horrors to come.

“What new protocols?” he asked.

“Didn’t your mother or this young lady inform you?” the receptionist asked.

I told her, “I didn’t tell him. I would’ve had to knock him out with a brick and carry him here in the trunk if he knew.”

Tristan’s unease was turning into alarm. “What’s going on?”

The receptionist explained in a voice that said she’d repeated this many times over. “There was an allegation of an unfortunate incident between a health care provider and a young patient a few days ago. It involved a boy. And they were alone in an exam room. I won’t go into further details, but I’m sure you get the gist of it. It didn’t happen at THIS clinic, thankfully. But every doctor’s office in the area has adopted some temporary measures to insure this doesn’t happen again. They’ll work up some permanent rules later. For now… well, I personally think they’re way overreacting.”

I asked, “How so?” I already knew the answer. Tristan’s mother had told me. But I wanted to watch his face as he heard the news.

The receptionist leaned forward and dropped her voice. “All examinations of underage males, up to and including eighteen year olds if they’re still in high school, have to be done in the presence of a parent or guardian. And the parent or guardian can’t just be in the room. They have to actually OBSERVE every procedure to insure no hanky panky goes on. Who knows what could happen if they turn their back for three seconds. It’s ridiculous.”

Tristan was making a little whining sound.

The receptionist continued. “To make it even more absurd, they’re only doing this for male patients, because the incident involved a boy. Between you and me, this whole thing is just something to show they’re making an effort to address a problem. And they know it’s excessive in one way, so they’re limiting the scope in another. Only boys are subject to it, even though girls are more likely to be victims of sexual misconduct. Not that I want girls’ privacy to be violated like this. If it just HAS to happen, it’s better that it’s to boys. They’re not as modest as girls.”

She stopped and looked nervous. “Oops. I said ‘sexual misconduct’. We’re not supposed to use those words. I meant ‘incident’.”

I told her, “Don’t worry. I heard ‘incident’.”

Tristan was saying, “Ummm… what do you mean by observe?”

He was lagging way behind in the conversation.

I leaned in and whispered, “She means I’m going to see what I was denied that day behind the fence. And probably a lot more. And it’s all going to be official.”

He looked at me in despair. “This is a joke, right?”

I patted him on the shoulder. “Afraid not, Tristan. This is payback. I’ve been blessed by the god of retribution.”

The receptionist told us, “They’re about to add some extra temporary exam rooms in the only space they can. In the waiting room. Can you believe it? What could possibly go wrong? Now, go find a place to stand and wait. There are more people arriving behind you in line.”

At that moment, some medical personnel were bringing in portable curtain stands and arranging them into impromptu exam cubicles in the waiting area. Each stand was comprised of a flimsy metal frame about eight feet tall and six feet wide with a flat metal base at each end to hold it up. The thin fabric curtains were hung from metal rings and ended about two feet above the floor. There was a sizable gap between the edges of the curtains and the metal frames. These were really just poorly designed room dividers. They were NOT designed for privacy, but the clinic was having to use what it had.

Someone was wheeling in a rolling examination table. He parked it by the wall and left.

An extremely large female nurse… about six feet tall and six feet wide… called out to the other personnel, “Remember. Only boys in the curtain rooms. All regular exams rooms are for girls now. You can start moving the boys out here. It’ll still be three to a room like before.”

Another nurse said, “The boys will have to get dressed again. They can’t come out here like they are. We had them remove everything, including underwear, to save time.”

“Just throw a gown on them. We don’t have time for them to redress to change rooms, then undress again, then redress again when they’re through. We’re going to be lucky to get finished before closing as it is. There’s still kids coming in.”

The other nurse looked dubious. “Welllll… those gowns aren’t really made to be worn outside of an exam room. They’re wide open in back.”

The big nurse snapped at her. “If these kids want to be certified for sports, they can damn well deal with it.”

I took Tristan by the arm and dragged him over to a somewhat vacant area of the floor. I made sure I had a good view of the hastily erected exam rooms. There were four of them now along one wall of the waiting area. There was a long line of seats facing the curtains, about three feet away. Two more rows of seats were lined up behind those. With the thin fabric of the curtains moving about with even the slightest draft of air, plus the gaps at the sides, plus the open area at the bottom, plus the attendance of three mothers or guardians within the rooms… these boys’ examinations were going to be far from private.

About half of the people in the seats were girls and their mothers. Since girls were being examined one at a time, the process was taking much longer than the boys. There was around forty of them waiting for their turn in the exam rooms. In the meantime, it looked like there was going to be a show to keep the boredom at bay. There were boys seated among the girls, apparently still waiting for their own exams. They were looking at the newly erected exam rooms with pure dread in their eyes. Some were arguing with their mothers, obviously wanting to leave, sports certification be damned.

This day was getting better and better. It was so good it was scary. I was afraid fate would strike me dead soon to balance it out.

Tristan was almost whimpering. “This can’t be happening. It can’t. It’s not possible.”

He turned to me and begged, “Please, Astrid. I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you. I really am. Just get me out of here. Take me home. Please. This is a nightmare.”

I DID feel sorry for him. As I said before, I didn’t hate the boy. But he had years and years of obnoxious behavior to make up for. And it looked like he was going to do it all in a single day.

“Please. When we get home, I’ll show you everything. Front and back. I’ll get totally naked. I’ll stay naked for an HOUR. You’ll get your revenge. I’ll DIE of embarrassment, but that’ll be better than everyone in the world seeing me. Look at those exam rooms. They might as well not even have curtains.”

“Sorry, Tristan. I made a promise to your mother. And you’re not just getting a school physical like these other boys. This is an important followup appointment. The doctor needs to make sure your wienie doesn’t rot off.”

He looked offended. “THAT wasn’t necessary. And you KNEW you were going to get to watch me being examined. And you didn’t say ANYTHING. This isn’t right. And now it’s going to be done right out here in the waiting room. In the freaking WAITING ROOM. Take me home. I promise I’ll never do anything bad to you ever again. I’ll never do anything bad at ALL. I promise. I just want to go home.”

He sounded so pitiful, I was tempted. But he DID need to see the doctor. And I HAD promised his mother. And the thought of seeing the little brat have to take all his clothes off and have his wiener examined right in front of me was just too enticing. There had been too many times I’d almost got to see it. That glimpse through his boxers that morning hardly counted. I almost pulled his pants down after the bicycle prank. I almost caught him with it out behind the fence, then I almost got to see him all the way naked after his shower that morning. Those almosts were killing me.

Then there was the added, unexpected bonus of seeing dozens of embarrassed boys in flimsy, open back gowns being paraded through the crowd in the waiting room. And the prospect of seeing more of them during their exams due to the inadequate privacy measures. I’d have to be a masochist to give up such an opportunity.

I told him, “Stop being such a baby. Does your mother bring your pacifier when she takes you anywhere? And weren’t you just here with her a week or so ago? You should be used to this.”

“It wasn’t like THIS. They must’ve just started this stupid new protocol. And it was bad enough as it was. I was SO embarrassed.”

Tristan’s mother had told me she insisted on being in the exam room with him on his previous visit, even before the new rule. He sat on the table in his underwear, blushing furiously, for most of the exam. When it was time for the underwear to come off, he fussed so much she agreed to look elsewhere for the remainder of the exam. He still complained bitterly all the way home about the doctor handling his privates and sticking a finger up his bottom while his mother was sitting just a few feet away. She’d confided that she’d looked despite her promise. He was her little boy, after all. Tristan had his eyes clenched shut through the long, tortuous ordeal, so he never knew it.

She’d told me, “If he knew I saw the rectal exam, he’d hide in his room and never come out. I’d have to slide meals under the door so he didn’t starve. Like I haven’t seen his little bottomhole before. I used to change his diapers, for God’s sake.”

That’s when she also brought up the subject of his obsessive masterbation. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but it’s likely to come up and I don’t want you to be shocked. The doctor asked Tristan about his sexual history. I guess because, at the time they didn’t know the source of his infection. Of course, he HAS no sexual history. He’s only just barely thirteen. And… well… girls usually go for the bigger, buffer boys. The little scamp will be lucky if he has a girlfriend before he’s thirty. I’m hoping by then he’ll look a little more manly. I DO want him to attract the future mother of my grandchildren.”

It was obvious Tristan’s mother didn’t know how many girls slobbered over his adorable looks. Sexy doesn’t have to be big and buff. It can be cute and boyish, too.

She continued, “Anyway, once the doctor was satisfied he was still a virgin… something he was SO ashamed of… she asked if he masterbated. He blushed so hard I thought his head would burst into flame. He lied, of course. Said he didn’t. He’d NEVER do such a thing. And he KEPT lying. I finally had to tell the doctor I knew he did it, and did it often. Every day, in fact. At least twice a day. Three times a day. My water bill has doubled from all the time he spends in the shower every morning doing it. And he runs straight up to his room to do it when he gets home from school every damn day.

“He was shocked that I knew. How could I NOT know? He uses dirty t-shirts, underwear, socks, or anything at hand to catch his stuff. Then he wads it up and leaves it on the floor with the rest of the dirty clothes I have to pick up. Then there’s the stains on his sheets and mattress covers from his nightly sessions. And he thinks he’s done a great job at hiding what he’s doing. I love my son, but he’ll never be a member of Mensa. I guess I’m rambling. I just wanted you to be prepared if the subject comes up again. And it probably will. I don’t want you to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable.”

After the clinic had called his mother to inform her of the new rules, she was actually grateful she couldn’t leave work to take him herself this time. I’d be the one who had to listen to all his whining and crying. But while his mother would’ve been annoyed by all that fussing, it was going to be music to my ears. I couldn’t wait to hear his protests as I watched the doctor conduct that rectal exam. That had to be the ultimate humiliation for a boy. Especially with his doctor being a woman. And with any luck… and my luck had been holding firm so far… the subject of masterbation would come up again. If it didn’t, I’d have to find a way to work the conversation around to it. Tristan was going to regret his years long campaign of teasing and tormenting me.

After a few minutes of waiting, I heard a commotion behind me. There was lots of laughter. Most off it sounded like it came from kids, but there were some adult laughs thrown in as well. I knew the Parade of Gowns was beginning. I’d had my cell phone out checking Facebook. There was already a bunch of posts about the ongoing situation at the clinic. I added a few extra taps on the screen, returned the phone to my jacket pocket, and turned to see the first of the boys being led through the door by a couple of nurses. The first in line was Andy, a boy I knew from school. I’d had a crush on him for years. When I’d got the nerve up to make my interest known, he’d turned me down. Politely, but it was still a rejection. We remained friendly, and he was in a number of my classes. Sometimes, we’d have lunch together with a few other kids. But that rejection was always in the back of my mind.

Now there he was in a thin gown that looked like it was sized for an ten year old. It barely cleared the bottom of his ballsack, and sometimes didn’t. He kept trying to tug the garment down. His mother, who was walking slightly behind him and holding his bundle of clothes and shoes, said, “Andy, stop pulling on it. You’re opening the back up and showing your rear to the world.”

Andy’s eyes were constantly darting around the crowded waiting room, obviously hoping no one he knew was there to see him. His luck was no better than Tristan’s that day, judging by all the kids, male and female alike, who started calling out his name amid the laughter. A girl’s voice said, “Looking GOOD, Andy.”

Behind him was another boy I knew by sight but not name. He looked about a year younger than Andy. With him was his mother and a little girl of around ten years old. She must’ve been his sister, who’d accompanied him and their mother to the exam room. I hadn’t thought about that till just then. A mom can’t leave her other children unattended in the waiting room, and she can’t stay out there with them because of the new rules. So, not only did the three boys per room have to bare it all in front of their own moms and the mothers of the other boys, but all the various siblings who might be present, too. There were quite a few of these younger children in the parade who weren’t patients.

I’d never thought of describing a situation as delicious, but this one qualified. And I hadn’t known how ravenous I was for this particular dish till that moment.

The little girl behind Andy had her hands over her mouth and a delighted expression on her face. She was staring straight at his bottom. In another few moments, he’d pass me and I’d get to see it, too.

More boys were being ushered into the room. When each of them saw the waiting crowd and those curtained cubicles, their eyes reflected the same horror that seemed now to be a permanent feature of Tristan’s own.

At six feet wide, those curtain frames made for a very small enclosure. With three boys, three parent/guardians, a doctor, a nurse or two, and the various extra siblings, it was going to be close quarters indeed. Those boys’ naked bodies were going to be within accidental rubbing and jostling distance with everyone in the room with them. It was going to be delightfully awkward.

As Andy passed by, I yelled at him from behind the rows of seats. “Hi, Andy. It’s Astrid.”

The back of his gown was as revealing as I’d hoped. Even without him pulling it down in front, the gap didn’t just show his luscious looking bottom. He was completely bared from the little cloth ties at his neck all the way down to his feet. As he walked, the edges of the gown swayed and undulated and opened up even more. Andy turned his head when he heard me call. I smiled and waved excitedly like an old friend who hadn’t seen him in ages. I’d like to say his face turned red, but it was already as red as it could be from his very public exposure to the waiting room. And there was no telling what he’d had to endure in the exam room before being moved out here. He’d been fully naked in there like the other boys. He quickly turned away. Even over the clamorous pandemonium in the room, I could hear him say, “Astrid. Oh, God.”

The third boy in line was Josh, a big strapping football player in another skimpy gown that was way too small for his muscular physique. He was a senior. Eighteen years old… technically a man, but still being treated like the underage boys around him. He had little teddy bears all over his gown. He was trying to act nonchalant, like this meant nothing to him. He was failing miserably. Josh was one of those arrogant boys who are used to basking in adulation. Being humbled and humiliated in this manner was deflating his oversized ego. Tomorrow, he’d probably drag some little, naked nerd out of the showers and into some dark corner of the locker room to reassert his place as the ultimate alpha-male. Or force himself on a cheerleader in the back seat of his car, maybe with the whole gridiron gang gathered round to act as cheerleaders themselves. While I had sympathy for the nerd, HIS fate would be the preferable possibility.

I had to admit, I was excited by what was swinging around against the thin fabric of Josh’s gown in front, and the thick head that sometimes made its appearance below the hem. And his beefy buns in back were like something from a sculpture of a Greek god. I was ashamed of myself for lusting after such a foul, egotistical jerk. It made me feel like one of the teeny-bopper groupies who worshipped his type like they WERE gods. This made me appreciate his humiliation all that much more.

Through all of this, Tristan was hiding behind me, almost crouching, like he thought being invisible now would somehow help him when he was overly visible later.

I told him, “Tristan, you look ridiculous.”

“I don’t CARE. I don’t want to be here. If you’re really my guardian, you should be protecting me from this.”

That struck a nerve. Part of me was actually taking this guardian thing seriously. Tristan’s mother had entrusted him to my care. I WAS responsible for him. I should be looking out for his best interests, not salivating over his upcoming humiliation. On the other hand, the doctor DID need to make sure his little wienie infection was taken care of. So, it was all out of my hands. My enjoyment didn’t change what was going to happen.

The parade had come to a halt. The boys and their entourages were lined up in front of the curtained exam rooms. There was quite a range of body types, among them the burly football players, the tall basketball players, the slender swimmers, even a couple of pudgy boys who probably played golf.

The big nurse commanded them to face forward, meaning towards the curtains. This direction left their entire backsides exposed to the seated audience. There was more laughter and catcalls from both girls and boys. The nurse called for silence, but was ignored. The waiting room had taken on the atmosphere of a boisterous party.

That line of bare backsides was doing things to my entire body. I felt flushed all over. And it wasn’t just the naked flesh that was affecting me. It was the fact that the nakedness was unwilling. The humiliation those boys were experiencing was like an aura radiating outwards to fill the room. And I wasn’t alone in feeding off it. I felt kind of dirty for enjoying their debasement. This was worse than the impulse to stare at a car wreck as you go by. It was like staring at it and laughing, too.

The big nurse was having to yell to be heard. “I’m going to call out your names in threes. The first three, along with their parents and any brothers or sisters, will enter the first exam room. The next three go to the second room. And so on. Make it quick.”

The seats were full and I didn’t want to watch the show from way back in the rear. There were two girls sitting in the front row center, the best seats in the house. I told Tristan to wait. As I walked around the seating area to the front, he was making little anxious noises at being left alone. He seemed to feel like he was trapped behind enemy lines.

I had to pass behind some of the boys and their open back gowns. I made sure to get a good, up close look at all those succulent bottoms. I couldn’t resist slowing my pace and ‘accidentally’ running my fingers along an exceptionally cute set of buns belonging to a little freshman. I applied just enough pressure so my fingers did more than skip along the surface. They traced the curvature of his buttocks and dipped down into the cleft between. He let out a cry and whirled around, sending his gown flying up to the level of his nipples. There were cheers from the kids in the audience, and futile admonitions from their parents.

I had been instrumental in providing the crowd with their first full frontal view of one of the boys. These people OWED me.

The boy stared up at me with his mouth open. He knew the act had been intentional. I made sure my slight smile reinforced this for him. Not only was he being forced into such a degrading display before his classmates, he was being touched inappropriately without his consent as well. Tears sprang into his eyes at the injustice of it.

I was learning about the truly evil bitch I had inside me. I liked her tastes and appreciated her results, but I’d have to keep an eye on her and rein her in when necessary.

The boy’s mother smacked him across the back of his head. “TIMOTHY. I can’t take you anywhere without you causing a scene. You may not care about flaunting yourself in front of everyone, but it embarrasses me to death.”

“But, MOMMMMM…”

I’d got a good enough look before his gown dropped back down to see that Timothy, unlike Tristan, had some curls down there. I couldn’t slight Tristan, though. He WAS about a year younger.

It only took twenty dollars to buy the seats from the two girls. They must not have been as dedicated to naked boy watching as me. I motioned Tristan over and we took our seats.

Once the first group had been installed in their room, the nurse called out three more names for the next room. Then the next. This continued till each of the four exam rooms were full. And very full at that. That was twelve boys out of the thirty from the parade. Tristan’s name hadn’t been called. My luck was still holding. I wanted to watch the show from the outside before experiencing it from within the curtained enclosure.

The remainder of the boys and their mothers moved off elsewhere within the waiting room. The boys were trying to find a location where the open backs of their gowns didn’t reveal their bottoms to the vast horde of spectators. Some of the mothers were solicitous of the son’s modesty and took up positions behind them. Others fussed about how ridiculous their boys was being and how no one cared about seeing their bare backsides. While I appreciated the latter for giving me more bottoms to look at, I also valued a parent who stood up for their child. My parents always looked out for me. Tristan’s mother looked out for him. I reflected again that maybe I should be doing the same since I was in his mother’s place.

The big nurse barked out an order. “All you boys inside, take off your gowns. You didn’t have them before. You don’t need them now. Gowns will only get in the way and slow everything down. This process needs to run like an assembly line if we’re going to get everyone medically certified.”

The boys loudly objected to this further exposure. They’d already been naked in the real exam rooms. Then they had to participate in that humiliating parade. Now they were going to be naked again in curtained rooms that were practically open to the entire building.

I listened to the litany of complaints with growing amusement.

- Mom, no. Please. These are different mothers than the ones in the last room. That was bad enough. How many people are going to see me before we’re through?

- There’s a little girl in here this time. She’s staring at junk.

- There’s TWO little girls in MY room. They’re both staring at my junk.

- You hadn’t seen me naked in years. And now you and two other moms are going to watch me get a hernia check? Do you know what they DO for a hernia check?

- Why is Cindy in here? She’s not a little kid. She’s in my class. She’s old enough to wait outside.

For every outcry of adolescent anguish, there was a corresponding bellow from an impatient mother.

- You’re the one who wanted to be on the wrestling team. I’ve seen you in that singlet. The way it clings to everything, you might as well be naked. This is no different.

- That little girl isn’t bothering you. She probably doesn’t even know what a penis is.

- Those are Marlene’s daughters. You know that. And they have brothers. You don’t have anything they haven’t already seen. Hi, Marlene.

- Hi, Delores. Your boy has certainly grown. Last time I saw THIS much of him was thirteen years ago and I was changing his diaper.

- Hank, I swear. You’re sixteen years old and you’re acting like a child.

- Leave Cindy alone. I’m sure she’s embarrassed enough at having to see three naked boys. Poor girl.

As the twelve uncooperative boys grew more agitated in the constrained areas of each cubicle, the curtains kept swishing back and forth accordingly, revealing tantalizing glimpses of bare body parts through the gaps at the sides.

One boy in the second cubicle wasn’t giving up his gown without an act of overt rebellion. In the struggle, he ended up falling through the curtain just as his mother wrestled the garment off him. He lay on his back, stunned, with his head between my feet. When he looked up at me, I smiled and said, “Hi, Carl. Remember me? English class?”

I’d never paid much attention to Carl aside from polite small talk. He wasn’t homely, but he wasn’t all that handsome either. I hadn’t known about the thick, meaty sausage between his legs. At the moment it was flopped over onto his belly, so I was looking at its underside. The last penis I saw from that angle was Lonny’s when it was pointing skyward out of his pants. Carl’s was at least as big. Maybe bigger. It took all my willpower to keep from leaning down and taking it in my hand to see if it was as heavy as it looked. His balls were equally large. I wondered what his mother thought when she looked at her son and his huge hanging attributes. Maybe he took after his father, so she wasn’t surprised.

Carl came to his senses far too soon. With a cry, he sat up, then scrambled to his feet. Before he could escape back into the cubicle and its lesser invasion of privacy, Carl’s mother threw open the curtain and yelled, “Get back in her this instant. What’s the matter with you?” She grabbed his arm and pulled him in, then launched into a diatribe on how humiliated she was at his shenanigans. And, bless her, she didn’t close the curtain.

The two other boys inside were caught startled and naked, staring wide-eyed at the audience. I’d never met either of them before, but they stood there dumbstruck for so long, I knew them well by the time one of their mothers got the curtain closed. Both boys were fairly typical, slender fourteen to fifteen year olds. Their penises weren’t in Lonny or Carl’s league, but were substantially larger than Todd’s miserable specimen. All in all, I gave them a three out of five… not cute enough to stalk, but something nice to look at as long as it was there.

Tristan grabbed my wrist. “Astrid, I can’t do this. I’m not going in there. That’s not happening to me. Those boys…. I mean, everything was right out there in front of everybody. I mean… everything. Not just their butts. We’re talking EVERYTHING. There’s no way I can do this.” He implored me with his big puppy dog eyes.

I assured him, “Don’t worry. I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

He cried, “That’s part of the problem.”

I pulled my phone out to check something.

“And why do you keep looking at your damn phone. You should be figuring a way to get me out of this. Like going up to that receptionist and rescheduling my appointment.”

I patiently told him, “I’m looking at all the posts about what’s going on here. I’ve added a few of my own, too. And I don’t know if I even have the authority to reschedule an appointment. I’m just here to supervise your exam. And that’s what I’m going to do. Get your head around the fact that I’m going to see you naked. Jeez.”

“But it won’t be just you. Everybody in the entire school district is going to see me. I can’t get the sight of those two guys out of my head. Or that Carl. They were all the way, completely butt ass, totally freaking, goddamned naked. In front of everyone. People they go to school with. I don’t want to know what that feels like.”

“Yet you had no problem leering at ME through the fence.”

“First, you were in a bathing suit. Second, I’m SORRY. I really am. I was sorry while I was doing it. Between Lonny, Todd, and just being male, I couldn’t help it.”

I believed he was genuinely sorry. That didn’t mean he didn’t deserve everything that was going to happen today. Or that I wouldn’t take sadistic glee in every moment of it.

The big nurse walked down the line of cubicles, briefly throwing open each curtain to make sure every boy was gownless. I caught sight of seven out of the twelve boys. They were indeed quite bare. Apparently the remaining five also were because she seemed satisfied.

One of the junior nurses approached her. “We have a couple of problems. There’s only one mobile exam table. Almost everything can be done with the boys standing except for the reflex check. They have to be seated for that, with their feet off the floor. A regular chair won’t do.”

Big nurse gave her a disgusted look. “That’s easy. We just roll the table from room to room. Use your head.”

“There’s the matter of the scale, too. We need everyone’s weight. A couple of the maintenance guys are carrying the scale out here, but they can’t take IT room to room. It’s too big and heavy. And we can’t make the boys come out to be weighed unless we put them back in their gowns.”

Big nurse groused, “Goddamn it. That’ll take TIME. We don’t have TIME. Ok, put the scale in the first room. When each boy’s time comes to be weighed, he can go to the first room through the inside curtains. That way his tender, delicate sensibilities won’t be irreparably damaged by some little girls in the waiting room seeing his precious penis.”

“The boys’ mothers will have to accompany them through the other rooms. That means they’ll see even more of the boys.”

Big Nurse yelled, “Do I LOOK like I care?”

The two maintenance men staggered into the room with the big digital scale between them. It had a broad metal base to stand on and a column supporting a screen that would display the results. It looked insanely heavy. I wondered if a pediatric clinic would treat its employees for hernias and slipped disks since they were adults.

Big Nurse went over to the first cubicle and brusquely threw the curtain open without regard to the inhabitants or their state of undress. There were three boys, three mothers, a little boy, and two little girls. The patients shrieked like little girls themselves. All three jumped behind their mothers for protection, but not before I and everyone else got a look at the goods. There was more applause and cheers. Many in the audience were calling out the boys’ names. Some were yelling scores between one and ten.

The maintenance men manhandled the scale into the cubicle. Some of the others had to shuffle out of the way to make room for them. One mother had to edge sideways all the way out into the waiting room. Her son, a little freshman, was behind her clutching at her blouse. He was forced to move with her. They both ended up facing inward, with the boy’s entirely bare backside to the audience. As his face was buried in his mother’s blouse, he hadn’t yet realized what that move had cost him.

He was yet another little cutie. Small, slender, and blond. His penis was average in length, but had some real girth to it. Now that his bottom was almost within pinching distance, I decided I liked that side of him better. He had a sweet looking pair of buns. I wondered what it would be like to butter them. Like many of the boys so far, he was too young for me, but I could look.

A girl called out, “Arlo, you’re not quite as hidden as you think you are.”

Another said, “Why did you tell him?”

Arlo half turned with a shocked expression. I got a nice side view of everything, including his penis. It was the kind that stuck out, even though it wasn’t hard.

He started doing a little frantic dance step and squealing, “Mom. Mom. Hide me. Hide me.”

The maintenance men were laughing along with everyone else at the boy’s antics. After a deadly glare from Big Nurse, they finally got the scale situated and left. It took up quite a bit of real estate in the exam room.

Arlo’s mother took him by the arm and led him back inside, “For God’s sake, honey. Calm down. You’re acting like a hysterical poodle.”

Big nurse told her junior nurse, “All the other nurses are working with the girls at the moment. You’ll have to take care of this bunch till someone is freed up. Get in there and take all their vitals. Do all the rooms.”

The nurse entered the first cubicle while juggling a stack of clipboards and a rolling blood pressure monitor. One of the boys whined, “Can we close the curtain now?”

While the cubicle was closed and the nurse collected info, I studied the bare legs visible beneath the curtains of all the rooms. It was interesting to study them, divorced from the rest of their bodies. Some were hairy. Some weren’t. They were all quite shapely in their own individual ways. And they all gave me a little thrill just knowing the owners of those legs were bare all the way up. And they were bare in front of everyone else crammed into those tiny cubicles with them. I still got glimpses of penises and bottoms through the side gaps.

One boy in the third room was unaware he was standing in full view through that gap the whole time. His name was Harley. He was fifteen and on the swim team. I’d seen him around school, but we’d never talked. He had a nice looking penis and some really low-hanging balls. With some ballsacks, you only see the outer shape of the bag with some vague outlines of the contents. Harley’s balls were very clearly defined. There was no doubt those were BALLS.

Harley repeatedly tried to cover himself, but every time his mother would lightly slap his hands away. I heard her say, “I told you, Harley, keep your hands off yourself.”

“It’s not like I’m playing with it, Mom. Like I’d really do that HERE.”

She sounded jaded as she replied, “I don’t know why not. You’ve done it everywhere else.”

I was going to enjoy being able to envision what these boys looked like without their clothes whenever I saw them from that day onward. It was going to be even better when they KNEW I’d seen them that way. I’d have to make sure Harley was aware he’d been under my microscope. I started waving my hand frantically at him. He still didn’t take notice. I finally said, “HARLEY,” in a loud mock whisper. He jerked his head towards the sound of his name and his eyes just about bugged out. I made pointing motions at his genitals.

His hands flew into their protection formation. His mother slapped them away again.

“What did I just tell you?”

This was fun.

Most of the mothers had gotten tired of holding their son’s clothes and had placed them on the floor, all very nice and orderly. But the garments were getting kicked and moved around as everyone milled about restlessly as they waited. Many of the little siblings were sitting on the floor playing silly games, some of which involved taking random clothing items and wearing them on their heads. Or trying on tennis shoes that were far too big. Or giggling as they held up underwear to each other. The boy’s clothing was getting churned into a communal pile within each cubicle.

To further complicate the boys’ attempts at getting dressed later, the little kids were getting bored and were crawling from cubicle to cubicle under the interior curtains to find entertainment elsewhere, sometimes unintentionally dragging clothing with them as it gathered under their knees. The mothers were tired and irritated, and weren’t supervising their children properly.

The siblings who were a bit older, around the ages of nine and up, were ranging through the cubicles for a different reason. They wanted to see ALL the naked boys, not just the ones in their own room. I knew their intent because it was how MY mind worked, too.

Tristan had his eyes clenched shut as he’d done when being examined with his mother in the room. This seemed to be his way of denying a horrible reality. His lips were moving as he silently recited a mantra. I could just barely make it out.

“This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.”

When the nurse finished with the first cubicle, she pushed open the curtain to wheel out the BP machine. The armload of clipboards with all their vitals slipped out of her grasp and clattered to the floor. The curtain remained open as she crouched down and gathered everything up. I’d already seen all the boys in that group, but I had no objections to looking again. Their mothers had gotten tired of acting as human shields and forced the boys to stand on their own. All three looked miserable. They stared down at the floor so they couldn’t see the audience seeing THEM.

The nurse finally slid the curtain closed and opened the next one. This was Carl’s cubicle. I got a quick look at his meaty delight before he quickly turned away. Now his bottom was visible. Not quite as picturesque, but I wasn’t complaining. One of the other boys quickly covered himself. Unfortunately, his mother wasn’t as strict as Harley’s and didn’t make him remove his hands. Maybe this one hadn’t masterbated in every location he’d ever been like Harley had. All I saw of the third was a little bit of his bottom. Two mothers were in the way. Very inconsiderate, if you asked ME.

The curtain closed. All I had now were the side gaps, which still produced some worthy views. I looked down at the two foot tall space below the curtains. Besides the bare legs to draw my eye, I watched the little kids as they crawled back and forth through the cubicles. That had become a game all unto itself. The boys’ clothes were now spread out like rumpled carpeting for the entire length of the exam area.

The mothers were oblivious. I could hear them talking among themselves, mostly on the subject of what a tribulation having boys could be. Maybe the bizarre circumstances had affected their judgment, but the moms were being imprudent at best. They seemed to be trying to outdo each other with horror stories of their sons’ private lives. Nothing was out of bounds… masterbation, bed wetting, experimentation with other boys, experimentation with stuffed animals, experimentation with real animals, emergency room visits to remove foreign objects, and a few problems with members of the opposite sex that seemed mundane and boring after everything else. I’m sure the entire audience was taking notes just like me. I was learning all kinds of intimate details about some of the boys I knew. I was going to have to ask Danny Coleman what sex with the cookie monster was like.

I quickly checked my Facebook. Yes, the stories were already out there, complete with names. Audience members were surreptitiously updating on their phones. School was going to be interesting for these poor boys tomorrow. I wondered if they’d think their medical certification was worth the price they paid.

The mothers had started to move freely through the cubicles to talk to each other, thus subjecting the boys to exposure before even more women. The concept of privacy was collapsing in a domino effect. First was the relaxation of some of the safeguards on patient privacy after the ‘incident.’ Then more conventions fell under the mass influx of students needing medical clearance for all the school’s sports. The boys bore the brunt of these changes because they were still traditionally viewed as tougher and less modest than girls. The shortage of time and resources was a death knell for what few protections were left. Now, none of the adults gave a second thought to observing the boys’ nakedness and causing them to be observed by others.

When the nurse moved to the third and fourth cubicles, I was able to see the last full frontals of the boys I’d previously been denied. Now I knew all twelve of them front and back. And I have an exceptional memory, almost didactic. I wouldn’t forget a single square inch of their bodies or forget any of the stories their mothers tattled to the entire room. This would serve me well in future meetings with them.

My memory did NOT serve Tristan well. I recalled every tease and taunt and juvenile antic. I fully intended to get REdress by watching him UNdress. And I was going to manipulate the events as much as I could to maximize his torment. The combined humiliation these other boys were experiencing would be nothing to what young Tristan was going to suffer.

Still, there was that other part of me that was taking this guardianship role seriously. I looked over at him as he rocked back and forth in his seat and recited his little mantra, and I felt sorry for him. He was a scared little boy with an unbearable ordeal looming on his horizon. Sure, he had his faults. LOTS of them. But so did I. I was already regretting running my fingers along that one boy’s bottom. That was over the line. I’d given the evil bitch inside too much leeway. I had to remember to look but not touch. I could still enjoy looking with a clear conscience. I hadn’t created these outrageous circumstances. And I was only here at the request of Tristan’s mother. Whether I was here to enjoy the show or not, it would still play out the same.

“That’s all the vitals.” The nurse’s voice interrupted my introspection. I hoped I hadn’t been so self-involved I’d missed any penises.

She continued, “But we have another problem. Some of the girls are ready for their weight to be taken. And there’s just the one scale.”

Big nurse had a ready answer the boys wouldn’t like. “Take them one by one into the first cubicle. That’ll be the weight room. And put the exam table in the second cubicle. That’ll be the exam table room. It’s going to take too much time to roll it from room to room.”

She jerked open the first curtain and looked inside. The boys were caught by surprise and squealed.

Raising her voice, she said, “You mothers… open up all those inside curtains. We’re getting rid of all these time consuming obstructions. We’re making this one big room. And what’s with the clothes all over the floor. Someone grab them up and pile them in a corner out of the way. I have no idea what’s been going on in here, but starting now we’re going to run this like a well-oiled machine.”

I could hear lots of movement inside. Even the mothers were obeying this drill sergeant of a nurse.

“Good. Now, all you boys, line up against the wall. Stand at attention. Hands at your sides. Just consider this to be boot camp. All you mothers, line up against the outer curtain. Each one stand opposite your boy so we can say we followed the rules and you observed your boy at all times. Keep your other children with you. This isn’t Romper Room.”

There was a mass grumbling of young voices from within as the boys reluctantly followed orders. I was getting even more excited imagining the scene. Those boys had nothing to hide behind now. Not other bodies crammed into the room with them. Not even the scant protection of their hands. I wondered if Big Nurse was just being overly pragmatic or if she had her own evil bitch inside who was enjoying the debasement of these boys as much as I was.

I was tired of sitting outside. I’d done this part and wanted to move on to the second phase. I wanted to be in there, in what was now a six by twenty four foot room, with twelve boys lined up naked before me. Including Tristan, who’d be directly across from me. I WAS his guardian after all. By the rules, I had to observe. I wouldn’t be obsessive about it, though. After all, there would be eleven other boys to observe, too.

I decided to see if I could expedite Tristan’s exam. I told him, “Stay here.”

“Don’t leave me,” he cried.

He needed to make his mind up. He said my being in the exam room with him was part of the problem, but he also didn’t want me to leave his side.

I assured the little wuss I’d be right back. I went up to a nurse. NOT Big Nurse. She intimidated me. I spoke briefly. She went to Big Nurse and said something.

“FINE,” Big Nurse bellowed.

I returned to my seat and told Tristan he’d be in the next group called in.

He freaked. “But, I don’t want to be in the next group. I don’t want to be in ANY group. I want to be the last one examined so everyone else is gone. What have you DONE?”

I smiled inwardly. Payback was a methodical process, achieved in increments.

I told him, “You don’t appreciate anything. I told the nurse you weren’t here for just a sports physical. You had a serious condition that needed immediate assistance. I was doing you a favor.”

“It’s not serious. The antibiotics took care of it. It doesn’t itch or burn anymore. This is just a followup visit.” He pouted for a minute, then added, “And you’re to forget I said anything about itching and burning.”

“Did it itch and burn at the same time? That sounds awful.”

“I’m not answering that.”

I continued to stare at him. He lasted about two minutes.

“Ok, fine. It itched all the time and burned when I peed. Happy?”

“Ecstatic. I’ve heard boys get an itchy feeling down there when they’re getting horny. Was it the same kind of itch?” I waited and stared.

This time he lasted about three minutes.

“Crap! It’s a different itch. It was miserable. The horny itch feels good.”

A girl from the row behind suddenly stuck her head between us. “This is a very informative conversation. Hi, Tristan. I sit behind you in Geography.”

Another girl leaned in. “I’m in your Math class.”

Tristan slid down in his seat. In a tiny voice, he said, “Hi. Estelle. Hi, Layla.”

Estelle said, “I’m surprised you remember our names. We haven’t actually talked much. Mostly it was just you teasing us. For years. And years.”

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured. I’m better now.”

Layla said, “Not all that long ago. But I still like you. Seriously. You’re cute.”

Estelle said, “We’re here with our older brothers. They’re getting physicals for baseball. That’s them over there with our moms. MY brother’s the one with his peter head hanging out of his gown. I never saw that before. I’m going to see the rest of him soon. He’s going to HATE that. And I’m going to make sure he never forgets it. Maybe you’ll get called in the same time we are. Won’t THAT be fun?”

Tristan cried, “NO. That’s the opposite of fun. Why would you get called in if your brothers are the ones getting the physicals?”

Tristan already knew the answer to that. He must’ve been desperately hoping reality had somehow changed in the last few minutes. Estelle pointed at a sign on the wall. ‘No minors are to be left unattended’.

She tweaked his earlobe, making him jump. She said, “I like you, too, despite how irritating you can be. Cute makes up for a lot. I really like how your bottom looks in jeans. I’m hoping to see it out of the jeans today. And not just your bottom.”

The atmosphere of disregard for the sensibilities of boys was permeating the entire building. I doubt that girl would’ve said such a thing the day before. Today was open season.

I felt curiously possessive. I wanted to tell her, ‘That’s MY Tristan you’re talking about. And keep your hands off his ears.’ But I kept my mouth shut. I understood her motivations. I had to tolerate him for years, too. These girls deserved some payback.

I lowered my voice and asked Estelle, “Do you have your phone with you?”

“Of COURSE.” It WAS a stupid question. Humans couldn’t exist more than a few feet from their cell phones anymore.

I whispered some instructions and told her to pass it along to her friend.

A nurse led ten female patients through the door. The girls were all dressed, of course. There were no mothers or smaller siblings.

Tristan noticed this right away. I guess his mind was focused on the subject of patient privacy. “Where’s the mob like the one that came with the boys?”

Estelle, still leaning forward, said, “I heard them say there’s a supervised playroom where the girls’ brothers and sisters are being kept.”

Layla said, “And I heard a nurse tell the moms they could wait in the coffee break area and watch tv while their daughters get their exams.”

Tristan made a little strangled noise. He seemed to be trying to say something, but the words were caught in his throat.

The new nurse announced, “We’re about to take your weight and check your reflexes. I need to warn you. There are boys getting examined inside the curtained area. They’re not wearing anything. Don’t worry. They won’t bother you. They’re all lined up against the wall. If it makes you uncomfortable or embarrasses you to see them, just try to look somewhere else. We’re having to do this because of time constraints.”

One girl said, “I don’t want a bunch of boys watching me get weighed. It’s like, a violation.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

The nurse said, “We can tell them to close their eyes.”

As the girls lined up before the first cubicle, three small children who were in the seating area went racing by the curtains. One grabbed an edge as she passed and jerked the curtain all the way open. She continued to hold on till the entire framework went crashing to the floor. The mothers and children who’d been lined up inside by the curtains screamed and scattered. I got an excellent view of six boys against the wall, including Carl and Harley. I was conflicted about what drew my eyes more… Harley’s low-hangers or Carl’s delectable sausage. Carl won out. I guess I’m still more of a wiener woman.

Voices from the crowd continually called out the boys’ names so they’d know they were being observed by kids they knew. Others called out their scores. Audience participation had become a regular part of the show.

The boys had screamed along with their mothers. They tried to cover up, but Big Nurse’s voice boomed out from somewhere within the curtained area. “Get those hands back down. We’re going to have discipline here. This is for your own good. It’s so you uncooperative, unappreciative, unruly adolescents can have your certifications so you can play your silly, frivolous games.”

The boys snapped back to their previous positions, ramrod straight against the wall, hands at their sides. They looked terrified. I couldn’t blame them. That woman was SCARY.

And she wasn’t finished yet. “Two of you boys get over there and fix that damn curtain.”

They frantically looked side to side at each other. None of them was going to volunteer to step even further forward towards the attentive crowd.

Big Nurse bellowed, “Oh, for God’s sake.” She marched into view.

“YOU.” She pointed at a little redheaded boy. He looked to be about Tristan’s age. “And YOU.” This one was an older boy, at least seventeen or eighteen, with thick black hair. He was built like a football player.

The redhead said, “I think you should pick someone bigger than me. We’re kind of asymmetrical.” He was visibly shaking. The poor thing didn’t handle stress very well.

“MOVE IT.”

With a cry, the boy sprang forward as if he’d been shot out of a cannon. His left foot made contact with one of Big Nurse’s size thirteen shoes, sending him staggering in an uncontrolled trajectory far beyond the edge of the curtains. He managed to curtail his forward momentum just before barreling into a girl seated on the other side of Tristan. He wobbled back and forth unsteadily for a moment, his arms out to secure his balance. The girl stared at the penis and ballsack right in front of her face.

The hair between his legs was the same bright red as on his head. The phrase, ‘burning bush’ came to mind, but I think that referred to something else. I could see from the position of his arms that his armpits were bare. No fiery red hair in there yet. But his little bush looked so precious, I gave him a pass on the underarms.

The girl gave him a big smile and said, “Hi, Willy. That name means so much more to me now.”

In a shaky voice, the boy said, “I’m going back to William.”

A number of other girls were calling out greetings. They seemed to genuinely like him. That may have actually made it worse for him. He turned and scampered back to the fallen curtain frame. His bottom was quite cute. That day may have been turning me into a bottom woman. Or, I told myself, I could just be an all parts of a boy woman. There was no reason I couldn’t appreciate all the individual components. And the whole assembly, too.

The football player was lifting one side of the frame. He was nice and beefy. Not as big as Josh, but I still couldn’t help but imagine those strong arms around me. He was hairy, too. His chest, his stomach, the treasure trail down to his thick thatch of pubic hair. His arms and legs were nice and furry. The large penis hanging ponderously from that curly mass of pubic hair was uncircumcised, so it was a long, thick tube with no visible head. His balls were big and hairy. This was no boy. This was a young man. And WHAT a man. He didn’t go to my school. I would’ve remembered him. Even with his clothes on.

A girl somewhere behind me had the same idea I had. “I want those arms around me.”

Another said, “ I want that thing INSIDE me.”

An older female voice yelled, “PRISCILLA.”

“Oops. Sorry, Mom. I got a little carried away.”

“I’m going to carry you away. To a convent.”

“I don’t think they make convents anymore, Mom. That’s only in the movies.”

The little redhead was trying to raise his side of the frame, but was shaking so badly he kept fumbling the simple job. I expected the football player to explode at him. Instead, he calmly said, “Take it easy. Take it slow. Put everybody else out of your mind. Don’t let them get to you.”

The younger boy said, “I can’t. This is too much for me. Everybody’s seeing everything. And I can’t stop thinking about what tomorrow will be like at school.”

“That’s ok. Let me take care of this. It’s not heavy. Go back inside.”

The football guy was being surprising gentle with the kid. I guessed I’d have to reassess my opinion of football players. Not all of them were like Josh. This one just got a whole lot sexier. After he had the stand back in place, he turned to the audience and gave everyone a bland stare, like they were nothing to be concerned about. He showed the confidence Josh had tried to feign. He entered the cubicle and closed the curtain.

The line of girls at the first cubicle had been watching the debacle with the curtain stand in stunned silence. Some had smiles. Some had their hands over their mouths. They had all been back in the normal exam rooms when the Great Denuding began, so this was the first time they saw any of the boys totally naked. They’d passed some in their skimpy gowns in the waiting room, but those boys had all turned their backs away so their bottoms weren’t displayed.

During the next few minutes, the girls passed through the curtain one by one for the weighing and reflex check. I could hear exclamations and ooos and ahhs as the line of boys was revealed. The boys had to keep their eyes closed, so they never knew who had seen them.

Even though the curtain had been left open in the first cubicle for the girls, I couldn’t see any of the boys within. They were too far off to the right. This was frustrating, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that I’d soon be in there with the next group.

A male doctor arrived to perform the boys’ hernia checks. The nurses had been able to do everything else, but weren’t qualified for this last measure. I was disappointed the doctor wasn’t female. But part of me, an inexplicably sympathetic part, was grateful the doc was a man. Those poor boys had been under attack by an army of females, with General Big Nurse leading the charge. They deserved a small respite.

I heard a series of coughs from within. I knew that meant the doctor had his finger poking uncomfortably into the boys’ genital areas as he checked for irregularities. I also knew the girls were watching that very personal examination. I certainly would be. And my chance was coming soon.

The first ten girls were finished with their physicals and left. One of the nurses called out ten more names for the next female group. They were led back to the real exam area for their preliminary tests. They’d be back soon to stand in line at the curtain.

A few minutes later, the first group of boys were done, it was time for them to get dressed. This presented a problem since all their clothes were in a big communal pile. I could see their bare legs and arms under the curtain as they rifled through the heap of discarded clothes, each trying to find his own. I saw the backside of a boy through one of the side gaps as he bent over. He obviously had no idea how much he was exposing to the waiting room. That was an unflattering view, which meant LOVED it.

A nurse started calling out names for the second boys group, including Tristan’s. He turned to me, frantic.

“Astrid. Take me home. You can still have your revenge. I’ll take my clothes off for two hours. Three. Ten. You can make fun of my dick. You can grab my balls again. You can whip my ass with a paddle. You can do anything you want, as long as it’s just you. Please. I can’t stand the thought of being humiliated in front of everyone like those other boys.” He was about to cry.

Estelle clapped her hands. “Yippee. They called my brother.”

Layla said, “Mine, too. This is going to be GREAT. Your brother. My brother. AND Tristan the Terrible.”

Estelle added, “AND nine other boys. We know at least half of the names she called.”

The boys were already lining up. None looked happy about the coming ordeal. Some were having to be physically dragged into line by their mothers. This made their gowns flutter and flap about, revealing different areas of their bodies. A fully nude boy is fun to look at, especially if he’s embarrassed by the nudity. But there’s a lot to be said for random flashes of skin, even if what’s revealed isn’t the main course. Earlier that morning when I’d barged into Tristan’s bathroom, I’d been thrilled by that glimpse of bare hip as he closed his towel, and the area just above his penis when he almost let the towel fall to the floor. It was tantalizing, a tease of what was yet to be seen.

It took the physical efforts of Estelle, Layla, and me combined to drag the unwilling Tristan to the lineup of boys. His mantra had changed to a loud ‘No no no no no no no no.’ The audience was laughing hysterically. We could’ve turned this into a comedy act and gone on tour.

The other boys were already in their gowns, showing us a scrumptious line of bare bottoms. Estelle and Layla were giggling as they looked at their brothers and the boys they knew from school. They called out their classmates names. Those boys looked back with pure mortification painted across their faces in bright red blushes. They were around thirteen, like Tristan and the two girls. They had probably never been seen naked by a girl before, even voluntarily in some kind of sexual act. And their first experience at nakedness wasn’t just before one girl. They were exposed to an entire mob of their classmates. And everyone’s mothers. And assorted younger boy and girl siblings. They’d really been thrown into the deep end.

And I’m sure their minds were looking ahead. The humiliation of this day wouldn’t end when a new day began. This was only the beginning. The taunts and teasing would be neverending. Too bad for them they didn’t have the poise and confidence of that sexy football player. The ridicule would slide right off and eventually cease when they offered no reaction to it. But these boys’ emotions were raw. Their horror and humiliation was right there on the surface, an open invitation for mockery and derision.

Tristan was the worst of the bunch, and he was the only one clothed. As long as we kept our hands on him, holding him in place, he didn’t try to bolt. He remained with us, but shivered with barely contained agitation. I knew if we released him, he be out of the building like the Flash. He wouldn’t even use a door. He’d leave a Tristan shaped hole in the nearest wall.

Big Nurse strode up to the nurse conducting the line. “Call four more. We can process more of them at a time now that those stupid interior curtains aren’t boxing it all in.”

Four more boys in gowns joined the line behind us.

She barked at the line of boys, “Ok, move it. March. Remove your gowns when you get inside, then line up against the wall like the other boys were. With all the tomfoolery with the curtains, I’m sure you’ve already seen how it’s done. You mothers, line up along the front curtain across from your boy. WITH your other children. There’ll be no running around and playing this time.”

The line started moving. I imagined that gap in the first curtain looked like an open maw of a beast to the boys about to be gobbled up by it. When we half-dragged Tristan to the entrance, Big Nurse looked at him with fury all over her face.

“Why aren’t you in a gown, boy? Where’s your mother?”

Tristan didn’t answer. His face had gone completely blank. He’d divorced himself from the situation.

Great. It looked like her wrath was going to be turned on ME.

I said, “I’m his guardian. His mother couldn’t be here. Something came up at her job and she…”

Big Nurse rudely interrupted me. “I didn’t ask for a rundown of recent events. All I need to know is who’s in charge of this whelp. And that’s YOU. And you should’ve already had him in a gown. You need to live up to your responsibilities, missy.”

I wanted to punch her in her fat face. Bitch. He hadn’t been in the initial exam rooms where the boys were put into their gowns earlier. How was I supposed to know to get him changed into one. Or have accomplished that out here in the waiting room?

Big Nurse bellowed to the room at large. “All boys are to be in gowns when they present themselves to be examined. No exceptions.”

A younger nurse told her, “We’re almost out.”

“Then put them in dirty ones. Or they can stand around butt naked. I couldn’t care less.”

There was a ragged chorus of “Nooooooooooo.”

The younger nurse said, “I’ll get the gowns of the boys who just finished their exams. We’re really not supposed to use them till they’re washed. It’s unsanitary.”

Big Nurse bellowed, “BOYS are unsanitary. What does it matter?”

“Where should they change? In the restroom?”

Big Nurse looked like she could barely contain her rage. “That would REALLY be unhygienic. They can hide behind their mamas. Or a potted plant. I can’t be bothered with these extraneous details. I’m trying to get a thousand and one kids in and out of here before closing time.”

The nurse went inside and came out with a armload of used gowns. She began handing them out to the boys in the waiting area who were still clothed.

Big Nurse glared at me again. “What are you waiting for? Get that boy inside and undressed. You’re holding up the line.”

I flinched inwardly as I said, “I think these two girls are going to have to help me with him. He’s going to run if we let go.”

Through all of this Tristan trembled like the vibrator I keep hidden in my panty drawer. He wasn’t even reciting his mantra anymore. His eyes kept darting around the room, looking for an escape route.

Big Nurse yelled, “Then why isn’t he on a leash?”

I didn’t like this woman at all. I told her, “I didn’t think to bring one. I didn’t know it was Naked Day at the Doctor for boys.”

Estelle, Layla and I manhandled Tristan into the curtained room. We had to drag him around the scale and the exam table into the more open area. The previous group of boys was still sorting through their clothes. They were in various states of undress. Some were just in their underwear. Some in jeans and/or t-shirts. Some were still naked. The little redhead was only in his socks. I took a moment to stare. I liked that red bush. He was crying with frustration. The football player, in a black t-shirt and white boxer briefs, was helping him find the rest of his clothes. That young man was looking better and better to me, and not just in the visual sense.

Some of the mothers were helping their sons, but not all. Why was the redhead having to depend on another student for assistance? I think those unaccommodating moms were embarrassed by the naked spectacle their sons had been forced into becoming. This was when they needed to be their most supportive, and they were distancing themselves from their beleaguered boys instead. This made me angry. And made me feel even more protective of Tristan. And that was annoying. I was there to revel in his humiliation, not to mitigate it.

The boys who had preceded us into the exam area were reluctantly removing their gowns. Some of them needed threats from their mothers to prompt them into action. A blond haired fifteen year old named Jordan, who was in track at my school, had to be forcibly stripped by his mother and older sister. The sister was seventeen, but was still considered to be a minor who couldn’t be left unattended in the waiting room. Once Jordan’s gown was removed, his mother smacked him on his bottom, drawing laughs from everyone around, even the other equally naked boys. I guess they appreciated someone being even more publicly humiliated than them.

I hadn’t seen much of Jordan around school. I was making up for that in a big way. He had a dark blond bush over a penis that was average in size, but nicely shaped. When his mother had swatted him, his penis flopped up revealing his ballsack in its entirety. It dropped back down and everything jiggled for a moment. His mother ordered him over to the wall with threats of more corporal punishment. I watched his bottom as he obeyed. I decided to take an occasional lunch break in the stands at school like some girls did to watch the runners.

Estelle reminded me we needed to get Tristan undressed. “If he isn’t bare ass naked when Big Bertha Bitch comes back, we’re ALL going to be in trouble.”

I snapped my fingers in front of the boy’s face. “Tristan. Snap out of it. If Nurse Godzilla finds you still dressed, she’ll probably rip your clothes to shreds getting them off you. You won’t have anything to wear on the way home. Do you want that?”

When he didn’t immediately reply, Layla took a cue from Jordan’s mother and swatted him on his bottom. Then Estelle followed her example. I didn’t want to be left out, so I got in a smack, too. Our combined efforts amounted to a short but effective spanking. Tristan’s previous blank expression changed to one of outrage.

“You can’t do that. I have rights.”

I said, “In case you haven’t noticed, rights for boys have been rescinded for the day. Now take your clothes off.”

He gave me a heart-wrenchingly pathetic look. “I thought you were going to help me. You were going to reschedule or something.”

“No. You begged me to, but I never said I would. I told your mother I’d make sure you made your appointment today. And that’s TODAY, not some other day down the line. So, get your clothes off. Let’s start seeing some skin.”

Tristan glared at me resentfully. He even had his bottom lip stuck out. After giving Estelle and Layla an equally aggrieved look, he surprised me by starting to undress. I was sure we’d have to hold him down and pull his clothes off by force. Unfortunately, he’d started too late. I heard that bullhorn of a voice behind me.

“What the HELL is THIS?”

I turned to see Big Nurse, her face almost purple with rage. I had serious concerns about Tristan’s safety. At least he was already in a doctor’s office if she beat him to a pulp. Not even waiting for an answer, she swooped down onto him like a hawk with a field mouse in its sights. Tristan had his jacket off and his t-shirt halfway over his head, so didn’t see her coming. He only realized the danger he was in when she yanked the shirt all the way off and tossed it aside. He staggered backwards and fell onto his butt. His feet flew up into the air.

Before he could react to the sudden attack, she grabbed his left foot, untied the laces of his tennis shoe, then yanked it off. She threw it somewhere into the exam area, then peeled off his sock. It flew off into parts unknown.

Tristan was screaming. “Stop it. I was undressing. Astrid, help. Somebody. I’m being assaulted.”

Every eye in the exam area was on Tristan’s undignified denuding. The other boys managed to forget their own embarrassment for the moment. This was even better than Jordan’s episode. Jordan had only been stripped of one garment. Tristan was entirely clothed, and was about to be entirely not. And at the hands of that big, mean, domineering nurse.

Big Nurse got Tristan’s other shoe and sock off, then let his leg drop back to the ground. He had stopped yelling. The shock of what was happening overwhelmed him. All the anxieties he’d confessed to me were coming true. He was about to be naked in front of a crowd of females. Women and girls. Girls he knew from school. And that was just inside the exam area. Since he was laying on the floor, he could be seen from the waiting room through the two foot space under the curtains. And he was going to be naked by being undressed like a child while they watched, intensifying his shame.

Big Nurse stepped between his legs and leaned down to unbutton his jeans. Tristan grabbed at her hands, crying, “Nooooo.” I had a flashback of undoing his pants myself the day I’d squeezed his balls. The nurse and the boy grappled for a moment till she glared him back down into submission. That look made everyone take a step back, even the boys who were all the way across the exam room. I realized I’d reacted the same way, and was slightly embarrassed. Tristan sobbed and dropped his hands to his sides.

His jeans were unbuttoned and his fly was unzipped. I felt an electric charge when I heard the sound of his zipper going down, knowing it was that big woman’s hand performing such a personal act on a boy’s pants. Grabbing the hems of his pant legs, she whipped his jeans off with one smooth motion. His underwear were pulled halfway down his thighs with them.

There he was. After a number of near misses and a glimpse into the fly of his ‘sleep pants’, I was finally seeing what Tristan had between his legs. As I already knew, he was hairless. But other than that, it wasn’t bad at all. His penis wasn’t huge, but was bigger than I had guessed. And I got to see the ballsack I’d only been able to handle through his underwear before.

Estelle said to Layla, “See? I told you. Briefs. Pay up.”

Layla said, “You’ll get your money later. Right now I’m looking at Tristan the Terrible’s dick and balls. Payback never felt this good before. And I never felt it WHERE I’m feeling it. Yow.”

“TMI, Layla.”

Big Nurse finished the task. Tristan’s underwear came off and went flying. A girl of around twelve years old caught them and held them out for inspection. With a furtive glance around the room, she stuck them in her purse.

“Get up,” the bullhorn bellowed. “And keep your hands at your sides. There WILL be order. There WILL be discipline.”

Tristan scrambled to his feet. He didn’t try to cover himself. All of Big Nurse’s anger about the direction the day had taken seemed to be focused on him at the moment, as though he was the cause. She was like a tightly coiled spring that could unleash at any moment with the slightest provocation. And Tristan had a way of provoking people.

Big Nurse stared around the room with a look that said, ‘Anyone else want some of this?’ When her gaze stopped at the boys trying to sort out their clothes, they screamed and grabbed everything up, then fled through the nearest curtain. Even the football player. He was smart enough to pick his battles. He grabbed up the redhead on the way out, carrying him under his arm like a football. Their mothers tried to make a more dignified retreat, but they were obviously as intimidated as their sons. By the time everyone made their escape, the curtains were once again open to the world. I got a look at what it was like from this side of the curtain. It felt like we were on a stage and there was an audience of thousands in the auditorium. I experienced a renewed surge of sympathy for those poor boys. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it must be like for them.

One of the mothers closed the curtains. Finally. Those women didn’t seem to be good for much.

Tristan looked down at his nakedness, then up at Estelle, Layla, and me. He spread his arms out and said, “Here I am. You have your revenge.” He didn’t sound angry. Just tired. The day had worn him down.

The next half an hour went as I figured it would. Tristan had to line up with the other boys. They had their vitals taken. They were weighed. They had their reflexes checked. The male doctor arrived to poke their privates.

The line of girls from the real exam rooms continued as they trooped in to have their weight and reflexes checked. I was hoping none of the boys would become blasé about being examined nude before this crowd. And to my delight, none of them did. Some hid it better than others. But there was always evidence of that degradation eating away at them. This was a day that would live on for every one of them.

I reflected this would probably cure Tristan of teasing Estelle, Layla, and me. How could he while knowing what we’d seen? Even the other girls he’d teased who hadn’t seen his exposure today were going to know about it. And, unfortunately for Tristan, there were going to be few who hadn’t seen it. I was regretting my decision to advise Estelle and Layla on the best use of their cell phones for the day. They had theirs in their top jacket pockets just like mine. And, like mine, the phones were taller than the tiny pockets that girls clothing is plagued with. And the phones were positioned with the cameras facing outward to capture all the action.

My original intent was vengeance upon Tristan the Teaser only. I was going to humiliate him by making him watch the videos with me later, then threaten him with their release if he ever annoyed me again. The other boys the lens captured were just collateral damage. Very photogenic collateral damage. I never actually intended to release the videos. They were just something to hold over Tristan’s head. And to look at late at night under my covers while using the special appliance I kept in my panty drawer.

I’d intended the same for Estelle and Layla. They’d have their revenge on Tristan, something to look and laugh at. They had their brothers to embarrass also. I hadn’t considered at the time, as caught up as I was in the spirit of the day, that they were younger and probably less discreet than me. There was no way those videos were going to stay exclusively in their own phones. And I wasn’t in a position to demand they delete everything.

In the end, it was moot. I had been watching the room as well as the boys earlier. The building was FULL of budding videographers. Others girls, and boys, were surreptitiously making use of their cell phones for more than just Facebook updates. This day was going to immortalized.

Estelle and Layla had been sticking by me instead of standing with their moms as they were supposed to. But no one had called them out on it. There was just too much going on to keep track of everything and everyone. We were all enjoying the show. But something was nagging at me, and I finally realized what it was. Tristan was being treated like the other boys who were there for the school physical. The purpose of his appointment had been lost in the confusion.

I timidly approached Big Nurse, already flinching.

“Umm… ma’am?”

She swiveled her laser beam eyes onto me. “What is it? And it had BETTER be good.”

“Well… the boy I’m in charge of? Tristan Williams? He isn’t here for a physical. He has a followup visit with the urologist.”

The silence that followed my statement stretched out for an eternity. When the silence was broken, it was with a thunderclap.

“Do you think this is a GAME, missy? Is this FUNNY to you?”

She was trying to pin their lack of organization on ME. I felt my blood begin to boil, but I didn’t say anything. I was half afraid she’d do to me what she’d done to Tristan.

She huffed out a breath. “FINE.” She yelled at the nurse who was handling the clipboards. “Find Tristan Williams’ records in there. He’s here for an infection in his penis.”

This announcement produced lots of tittering.

Tristan complained, “Jeez. Tell the world about it.”

Big Nurse took his clipboard from the nurse and looked it over. “Go get Dr. Tate. And a specimen cup. No, wait. Make that two cups.”

Two? That was intriguing. Tristan had caught that, also. And the look of apprehension on his face told me he had a better idea what that second cup was for than I did.

“Oh no no no no no.” He’d almost lapsed back into his mantra state of mind.

I’m ashamed to admit Estelle was quicker on the uptake than me. Her mouth dropped open and she whispered something in Layla’s ear. Layla mouthed ‘Oh my God.’ Only then did I start to comprehend.

The nurse returned with the cups, but not the doctor. Dr. Tate was busy helping with the girls’ exams. The nurse was to take care of the preliminaries, and the doctor would be in to conduct the final procedures.

This nurse was young and pretty. I’d noticed the boys were more self-conscious around the pretty ones, and Tristan was no exception.

The nurse said, “Hi, Tristan. I’m Jeanine, Dr. Tate’s new assistant. I know this is all very embarrassing. It’s all new to me, too. I’ve never taken care of patients in these circumstances before. I have to admit I’m nervous.”

I think she was trying to put him more at ease by saying they were all in the same boat on uncharted waters. But she was really only emphasizing his public nakedness and her own awkward reaction to it. A more coldly professional, detached approach might’ve seemed dismissive of what the boy was feeling, but I think it would’ve been preferable to a nurse admitting to being uncomfortable around his nudity.

“Where is your mother?”

I stepped forward. “His mother isn’t here. I’m Astrid. I’m his guardian for the day.”

She looked flustered. This nurse must’ve been fairly new to the profession. “Oh. Do you know… what’s required?”

I told her, “I know I have to watch everything you do to him. Because of the incident.”

“The incident. No one’s even sure there WAS an incident. But, yes. You have to closely observe everything. I’ll be back in just a moment to collect the samples.”

Another girl came in to be weighed. She was around Tristan’s age. As our little group was closest to the entrance, Tristan was the first boy she saw, and from only a couple of feet away. Her eyes widened, even though I’m sure she’d been warned of what to expect. While a nurse asked her name and found her clipboard, the girl looked Tristan up and down.

“Oh, YES.” She clapped her hands together. “I THOUGHT I knew you. But it’s kind of hard to see your face, since… well… there’s so much else to look at. Sorry. I’m not trying to embarrass you even more than you already are. It’s just… well… you’re NAKED. I mean, really really naked. Not like in a movie or on the internet. You’re right there. IT’S right there. I mean, it’s hanging RIGHT THERE. All of it. Dick, balls. Everything. Oh, sorry. I’m doing it again. It’s just… you’re so naked.”

Tristan was looking at me desperately. I wished he stop doing that. It made me feel guilty about not helping him, even though there was nothing I could do. The title of ‘Guardian’ didn’t come with magical powers to right the world’s wrongs. And guilt was interfering with my enjoyment.

The girl was still babbling. “I’ve seen you around school. I’ve always thought you were SO cute. My friends Tracie and Rachel think so too. We’ve watched you a LOT. We’re not stalkers. We just follow you around and watch. And now… here you are. All of you. And it’s ALL cute. I love your dick. I don’t care if it doesn’t have any hair around it. It’s just so CUTE. Can I touch it?”

She reached out and did exactly that. Just the tip of a finger, but its effect was like a physical blow staggering Tristan backwards. With the boys being treated like cattle instead of human beings, people were starting to assume ownership.

Tristen was stammering, “You can’t… it’s not… you can’t just…”

The girl’s face turned red. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why…”

The nurse conducting the weighing intervened. She told the girl, “Come over here and step on the scales, honey.” She turned back to briefly give Tristan an accusing look.

Jeanine returned and handed one of the cups to Tristan. He took it gingerly, looking at it like he was afraid it was going to bite him. And considering the part of him he was about to stick into it, that must’ve been scary.

“We need to make sure the antibiotics have taken care of the infection. You’ll need to urinate into the cup like last time. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to do it in the restroom like before. Astrid has to observe everything. The new rules are very clear on that.”

Tristan whined, “But I’d be alone in the restroom. It’s not like anything could happen. The door has a lock. No one’s going to… incident me.”

The nurse was sympathetic. “I know, I know. But we have to follow the rules. And they say EVERY procedure has to be observed. Besides, you don’t want to go out there right now. Not at all. That waiting room is like a zoo full of rabid animals. Kids are pulling the boys’ gowns up. Pulling their gowns OFF. Slapping them on their bottoms. Small children are making a game of running between the boys’ legs and grabbing their genitals as they go through. And it’s getting worse.”

She looked over her shoulder in the direction of the waiting room. Her eyes were haunted.

“Even if we put a gown on you and sent you out there, you’d end up as naked as you are now before you made it to the restroom. And as embarrassing as it must be in here, it’s nothing compared to what’s happening to those boys out there.”

In their efforts to avoid another incident, the entire clinic had become one big incident itself.

Jeanine said, “You’re better off in here. So, be a good boy and fill the cup.”

Tristan’s No. 1 fan had finished with her exam, but hadn’t left. She joined Estelle and Layla. They all smiled and exchanged names. The new girl was named Cathy. They turned their eyes back to Tristan.

He let out a big, whiny sigh, then took his penis in one hand and held the cup under its head with the other. He looked up at me again, half hopeful I could somehow intervene.

I shook my head and said, “You’re just going to have to do it, Tristan. Pee in the cup.”

Nothing happened for a while. He was obviously trying. His face made a number of expressions I’d never seen before.

“I’m trying. I’m trying. It doesn’t like to pee when other people are around. I even have problems in the boys room.”

Another girl came in to be weighed, and stopped to stare. That did it. The thought of even MORE girls arriving must’ve provided the right incentive. There was a brief spurt of pee. Then another. Then the flow began.

I was fascinated. I’d never seen pee coming out of a boy before. I also mentally thanked the specimen cup company for making them clear. Tristan looked up at us with pure mortification. He had a sizable audience to witness him relieving himself. Besides me, Estelle, Layla, Cathy, the new girl, and Jeanine, there were a number of nurses, mothers, and the assorted siblings. Even peeing in a cup in front of the other boys must’ve been embarrassing. They hadn’t needed to do that for their own physicals. Some of the smaller children had drifted over and gathered around to watch the entrancing sight.

Tristan moaned miserably, “This is so embarrassing, I’m going to run away from home. I don’t want to live in the same town where I had to do this.”

I said, “Be glad it wasn’t a stool sample.”

He shrieked, “Don’t give them ideas.” He almost slopped the contents of the cup onto the floor.

Jeanine said, “Eyes on the cup. We don’t want any accidents.”

When the level of the liquid started reaching the brim, Tristan began to panic. “I’ve still got more. Why are these cups so small?”

Jeanine asked, “Can you hold the rest?”

“Not for long. Once it starts, it wants to finish.”

With a grimace, he forced himself to stop peeing. Jeanine took the cup carefully. It was almost too full to carry. She handed it over to another nurse who looked less than thrilled to take it.

Tristan was doing a strange little dance while standing in place. “Hurry, hurry, hurry. Get me another cup or something. I can tell I’m about to pee. I can’t help it.”

Jeanine said, “I guess it can’t be helped.”

She gave him the second cup. He barely got it under his penis in time before the flow burst forth again. Tristan let out a sign of relief, then looked ashamed at making the sound.

There was an anxious moment when it looked like he was going to overfill the second cup. As his fluid reached the top, everyone leaned in with rapt anticipation. But the flow tapered off to a trickle, then stopped. Tristan looked down at himself apprehensively, as if not sure he was finished. A few more drops fell out of him, but that was all. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Jeanine carefully took the second cup. “We certainly should have enough to test.”

Tristan looked angry. “It wouldn’t have been a problem if I could’ve done it in the restroom. I could’ve peed out the rest in the toilet.”

Jeanine snapped right back. “Don’t get snippy, Tristan. We’re doing the best we can under the circumstances. Would you rather I’d sent you outside the curtain in a gown that wouldn’t have stayed on you for ten seconds?”

He indicated his nakedness. “I wouldn’t have been any worse off than I am in here.”

One of the other nurses chimed in. “Oh, yes you would’ve. The things I’ve seen…”

Tristan wouldn’t be dissuaded. Having to pee naked before a crowd had really gotten to him. “Astrid could’ve got that football player she’s been slobbering over to run interference for me.”

That startled me. Was I that obvious? I was as embarrassed as Tristan. Well… not quite.

Jeanine tried to calm the boy down. “You’re getting yourself all worked up, Tristan. There’s one more sample to collect, then Dr. Tate will see you. Then you can get out of this madhouse and go home.”

Tristan’s face turned pale. “About that sample…”

Big Nurse chose that time to return. “Has this little troublemaker given you his fluids yet?”

Jeanine, looking defensive, told her, “Not quite. The boy urinated in his semen cup.”

Big Nurse exploded. “WHAT? Doesn’t he know the difference between urine and semen?”

She rounded on Tristan, who stepped backwards in fear. She bellowed, “I know they come out of the same place, but semen’s the thicker stuff boys LIKE to produce. I guess at your age, it comes out more often than urine, so it’s gets confusing to your tiny mind.”

Jeanine told another nurse, “Go get another cup. Hurry.”

To Tristan, she said, “There are a few questions I have to ask before the next step. This is always embarrassing for a boy, even more so in the current circumstances, but it’s a requirement. I see in your chart your mother answered this question for you on your last visit. But I need to hear it from you. Do you masterbate?”

Tristan looked around. “No no no no no. This isn’t going to happen. I know I’ve been bad sometimes. But I’ve never done anything to deserve THIS.”

Jeanine told him, “This isn’t a punishment, Tristan. We just need to make sure you’re well. You know how Dr. Tate told you an infection in your urethra could cause inflammation? And how that could make urine back up and cause more problems? Like epididymitis? We think that’s what happened. The antibiotics should have taken care of the infections. We’ll know after we run some tests on your urine. But epididymitis can cause fertility problems. It’s very unlikely this happened in your case. We caught everything early. But we still need to be sure.”

The surrounding crowd moved in a little closer.

Tristan was close to tears. “It isn’t necessary. I can tell. I feel really, really fertile. You wouldn’t BELIEVE how fertile.”

He started backing up, but couldn’t get far. There was a wall of mothers behind him. They patted him on his bare shoulders and assured him it was for his own good.

Jeanine continued. “Anyway, before we have an underaged boy masterbate, we need to know he’s… already acquainted with the practice. Most boys your age are. ALL boys your age are. But we still have directives we have to follow. Even though there’s nothing wrong with masterbation…it’s perfectly natural… we can’t be seen as ENCOURAGING it. So, if you’ve never masterbated before, we’ll have to conduct a little counseling session before you begin.”

She waited for an answer.

I heard Estelle tell Layla, “And he thought peeing in a cup was embarrassing.” They tried to be silent as they tittered.

Cathy said, “I keep thinking this day can’t get any better. Then it DOES. I had no idea when I woke up this morning I’d see Tristan, the irritating, aggravating cutie of my dreams, totally naked… with his dick and balls hanging right there… I mean RIGHT THERE. Then to see him peeing. And now… now… now…”

Her eyes rolled up in her head. She staggered, looking like she might faint. Two nurses rushed over to assist.

Layla took up the thread. “It IS weird. I like him even though he’s obnoxious. And I like seeing him humiliated BECAUSE he’s obnoxious. I like it so much… it gets me all…”

She leaned over to Estelle and whispered in her ear.

Estelle said, “TMI again. But I agree. This is HOT.”

Jeanine was saying, “Tristan, you have to answer before we can continue. Do you want to stand there while other groups come and go, over and over, till closing time? Is that going to be better than doing what you have to do and leaving?”

The crowd was holding its collective breath.

Tristan mumbled something.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear that.”

He blurted out, “Yes. I masterbate. Goddamn it.”

The applause started slowly. Just a couple of hands clapping. It quickly grew till the curtained exam area thundered with it.

Big Nurse had to shout, “QUIET,” a dozen times before it faltered to a stop.

A nurse arrived with another cup and a tube of lotion. She held the lotion out to the extremely disinclined boy.

Someone in the crowd yelled, “Go for it, tiger.”

As everyone laughed, I couldn’t help taking a moment to marvel at how the day had gone downhill so completely and so quickly. It was amazing that we were in a room full of embarrassingly naked boys, their mothers and siblings, other classmates, and medical personnel. Their exams were being conducted right out in the open. And now poor Tristan, who’d already had to openly pee before the crowd, was about to publicly perform the most personal act a boy could do. It was like the Twilight Zone crossed with a porno. An exceptionally depraved porno at that. Was this all a case of mass hysteria? Was there something in the air causing it? Was this some secret government experiment in mind control?

Tristan seemed to collapse in on himself. I knew defeat when I saw it. He’d given in. It was all too much for him.

He timidly asked, “Can I turn around to do it? So everyone can’t see?”

Jeanine said, “That would be best. The girls don’t need to see that. The boys either, for that matter. Turn their minds to sexual matters of any kind, and there’ll be nearly twenty erections in the room.”

There was the slapping sound of a hand on a bare bottom. Everyone turned to see a mother scolding her boy. “How many times are you going to embarrass me, today?” she demanded.

One look between his legs demonstrated the erections had begun.

Big Nurse bellowed, “You boys, turn around. Faces to the wall. You don’t need any encouragement.”

She turned her eyes to Tristan, who cowered beneath her gaze. “And YOU, Mr. Troublemaker… I ought to open all the curtains and make you do it for the entire clinic. But…”

She sighed and lost her scowl. “Turn around. After he does that, everyone facing him move off to the side. Don’t watch. Give him a little privacy. There hasn’t been much of that today.”

Tristan turned his back to our little group. A few people moved slightly. But not much. It was too much to ask for more. They were like sharks, and Tristan was chum in the waters. And there was no way they weren’t going to look.

Big Nurse looked at me. “You’ll have to move around in front of the boy to observe.”

Tristan’s shoulders slumped when he heard this. I heard him quietly ask, “Was I THIS bad? Do I really deserve this?”

Estelle and Co. were complaining at the unfairness of only being able to watch his bottom as he did the deed.

I moved around to stand in front of him. He handed me the cup so he could hold his penis and squirt a line of lotion onto it. I took the lotion and handed him the cup. He looked up at me.

“I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you.”

I told him, “You still have to do it, Tristan. Like she said, it’s not punishment.”

“I know.”

He looked back down and started pulling at himself.

I didn’t expect him to be able to get hard, considering this was about as far from the privacy of his bedroom as it could be. Except maybe out on a busy city street. Or on a football field at halftime. But as Jeanine had said, any kind of sexual matter was likely to produce a boner in a boy Tristan’s age. Besides, his penis had a conditioned response to what was, according to his mother, his obsessively habitual masterbation. He had only to work it a few times, and it sprang into action.

He held the cup down by his side while he slid his fist up and down his slick shaft. He’d undoubtably know when the receptacle was necessary. I thought he’d close his eyes or look down at the floor in shame, but he stared at me with tears coursing down his cheeks.

I felt sorry for him. But also, I didn’t. I thought of everything he’d done to me over the years. All the practical jokes he’d gotten away with because our parents thought he was too cute and adorable to do such devious things. Watching his degrading act of forced masterbation before me and a crowd of others felt so GOOD. This was a day he’d never forget. Even when he aged into a senile old man who remembered nothing of his former years, he’d remember THIS. It wouldn’t be just a memory. It would be permanently hardwired into his brain, as much a part of him as his arms or legs or that penis he was tugging even faster and harder. I could see how he damaged it before. The boy was aggressive.

Now his eyes closed. He bit his bottom lip. His hips were making slight thrusting motions as he pumped away at himself. He was making slight moaning noises, interspersed with little staccato sounds. “Ah ah ah ah ah ah.”

I expected the crowd to be catcalling and laughing derisively. I had no doubt that would come. Today and every day after. But for now they were mesmerized by the unusual sight of a naked boy masterbating before an audience. And not in an act of exhibitionism. This was at the official behest of the adults in authority. The world had turned strange.

There were two things that lessened my enjoyment of seeing Tristan suffering his well-deserved retribution… First, as I said, I DID feel sorry for the kid. This was an outrageous thing to make a boy his age do. This was going to be emotionally scarring, even without the continual torment from his peers that was going to follow. And second, my dawning awareness that I actually liked the little rascal. I never entirely hated him. My animosity had always been tempered with an appreciation of that cute face of his. The face that got him out of so many of his self-imposed troubles. But I understood now that my regard went further than his face. And always had. I simply liked him, despite his actions. I had the feeling we could’ve been friends, even with the age difference. And the reason we weren’t friends came down to me and what I did that day in the woods when he was eight. The day I pulled his pants down with the specific intent of humiliating him in front of the group of kids he longed to be part of.

Suddenly, I could no longer enjoy the sight of the boy miserably masterbating at all. And I hated that he was humiliating himself even further by obviously enjoying the sensations he was producing. His hips were thrusting harder in time with his strokes. I could tell the moment was near.

His eyes flew open and he looked around the exam area with a startled expression. I think he’d temporarily forgotten where he was, if not what he was doing. Maybe he’d imagined himself in bed during one of his nightly sessions. He didn’t have time to ponder, though. He got the cup to his penis just in time for the first jet of fluid to hit the plastic bottom. I could hear it. He pumped again and again, each stroke sending another string of his stuff into the cup. He threw his head back and let out a long, satisfied, “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

The crowd burst into applause. There were sarcastic shouts of ‘Bravo’ and ‘Touchdown.’ Someone yelled, “Encore, encore.” Many of the spectators called out his scores. He received an average of 9 out of 10. His performance had been a hit with the crowd.

Tristan didn’t react. Even though he’d ejaculated, he wasn’t finished. He was still concentrating on the pleasures he was producing between his legs. Even after there was nothing left to expel, he continued to squeeze and handle himself. His eyes told me he was well aware of what he was doing and who was watching, but the pleasure he invoked was too intense to cease till it had played itself out. The shame at what he was doing spilled over into more tears. This was probably the most ambivalent ejaculation he’d ever had. Or ever would. He stared at me again as if I could somehow alleviate his misery. He was taking this guardian thing too seriously. There was nothing I could do, and now I really wished there was.

I jumped when I turned and saw a woman standing next to me. A woman in a doctor’s coat. She was large, but not as large as Big Nurse. I surmised this was Dr. Tate. I had a vague recollection of her appearing at my side while Tristan worked on his wiener, but my attention had been narrowly focused at the time. She’d arrived before the big moment did, so she got to see Tristan ejaculate. Even though she looked old enough to have been a urologist for at least twenty years, and had collected many semen samples from her patients, I doubt she’d ever seen one produce it before.

Tristan looked tiny and vulnerable standing next to the doctor and Big Nurse. He was breathing heavily. And sweating heavily. He’d given himself quite a workout.

Dr. Tate took the cup from him and held it up to the light. She smiled.

“Yes. Good boy. There’s plenty. I see you listened when I told you not to masterbate the night before this appointment. I’ll be sure to tell your mother you’re capable of abstaining when you put your mind to it. She’ll be proud of you. And you really should reduce how often you do it. Three times a day, every day, is a bit much. You might want to be a little less forceful, too. Remember, that’s what caused all your troubles to begin with. It’s a penis, not an iron bar. There’s only so much it can take.”

There was more hilarity. It was like the clinic had its own laugh track. I was beginning to feel like I was living in a sit-com. Or a sick-com.

Dr. Tate said, “Just one more thing to do. You handled it just fine before. Mostly. Well… not even mostly. Not at all, if I’m honest. Let’s just say you did better than some. I’m sure you’ll do fine today since you have experience with it now. Of course, only your mother was watching last time, and not a crowd.”

Tristan said, “My mom didn’t wat…” He stopped. “Oh great. She looked, didn’t she? Damnit, Mom.” Even after his public nakedness and the act he’d just performed, he still blushed at the thought of his mom watching what this final exam entailed.

Dr. Tate said, “She IS your mother. She’s concerned for you. Now, hop up on the table. You know the position. There’s a good boy.”

The position was on his hands and knees. With the orientation of the exam table, his bottom was facing the crowd. This insured that the last bit of Tristan the crowd hadn’t yet seen was now revealed. His butthole was plainly visible between his cheeks. His ballsack was hanging down in a very lewd manner. From the front, it had been mostly hidden by his penis, with just the sides visible. From the rear, it took center stage. It swung back and forth with every slight movement. Sweat dripped off of it. I could see the head of his penis hanging below his ballsack. Something dripped from it, too. Either sweat or a remnant of what he’d just shot into the cup. Poor Tristan wasn’t just naked. He was OBSCENELY naked.

As he turned his head to look back at me, the mortification on his face told me he was well aware of what the other people in the exam area could see. He knew I could see it even better since I was only inches away from his sweaty bottom.

Dr. Tate slipped on a vinyl glove, then lubed it up. Tristan watched her with real fear in his eyes. She saw his look.

“Now, don’t go crying molestation like last time. This is a routine procedure. You boys can be very silly. I’ve had patients leap off the table like frogs before I even get my finger in them.”

I watched with horrified fascination as her thick greased finger slid inside his bottom. She maneuvered it around, her face a study in concentration as she searched inside him for something. Tristan squirmed and moaned and kept repeating, “Man oh man oh man.”

I was uncomfortable watching this. I understood how Tristan could view it as a molestation. Especially with how big and thick the doctor’s finger was. She had him stretched wide. At least it wasn’t Big Nurse performing the procedure. He’d need stitches afterwards.

Dr. Tate finally found what she was looking for and slid her finger back out.

“Everything’s fine in there.”

There was more applause and calls of, “Way to go, Tristan.” The audience was really involved. This was like reality tv, but without the tv. I had the feeling all other examinations had ceased while Tristan’s was going on. He was the star of the show.

Dr. Tate handed Tristan a tissue. “Wipe the lube off your bottom, then you can get dressed. Tell your mom I’ll call her with the test results.”

With that, she was gone. Tristan very self-consciously wiped himself, drawing more laughter from the audience. I had to help him down from the exam table. He looked exhausted. He was so slick with sweat, he kept slipping and sliding in my grasp. I think his fatigue was all emotional. His glazed eyes told me he’d retreated back into himself again. Even the little redhead handled stress better. All HE did was shake. Tristan became a zombie.

I heard Estelle say, “THAT was a show.”

Layla said, “Yes, agreed. I never thought we’d see that much of him. We didn’t have a great view for the wanking, though. All I could see was his bottom jiggling and clenching as he did it.”

Cathy disagreed. “Sometimes, leaving something to your imagination can be fun too.”

Layla said, “Yeah, right. Like, if you’d actually had a choice of watching from the front or back while a cute boy jerked it, you’d settle for just seeing his bottom. Admit it. We were robbed.”

Cathy conceded. “I DID say sometimes.”

I couldn’t get Tristan out of his zombie mode. The other girls had to help me find his clothes where Big Nurse had scattered them around. I knew where his underwear ended up. He’d have to go home commando. He was missing one tennis shoe, too. Someone must’ve taken another souvenir.

He was so unresponsive, we practically had to dress him. The girls didn’t complain. I did. I was the one who had to hold him up while the others wrestled him into his jeans.

Cathy warned them, “Watch out with his zipper. We don’t want to leave a tire track up his dick. It’s too pretty.”

I had to continue to hold him while they pulled on his socks and his single shoe.

I parked him in a corner of the waiting room while I signed him out at the receptionist’s desk. Then I said my goodbyes to Estelle, Layla, and Cathy. It was only then I noticed Cathy was carrying her cell phone the way we other girls were. Great minds think alike. She’d have something to show her friends Tracie and Rachel. Not that there’d be a lack of images from that day, of Tristan and dozens of other boys.

There was one other person I wanted to find before I took Tristan home. I hoped I wasn’t too late.

Update:

Despite the heroic efforts of the clinic staff, many of the kids, girls and boys alike, didn’t have time to receive their certifications. So, the day after the debacle, the school district voted to extend the deadline by another two weeks, giving everyone time to make appointments at their leisure. The trauma suffered by the boys… AND the girls for the horror of having to witness that parade of young male flesh… was all in vain. The stringent time limit for certifications had been entirely unnecessary.

Of course, the videos have made the rounds. Kids have been trading them freely. Even the ones I took, which feature Tristan prominently, including his self-pleasuring and the molestation of his bottomhole. I only shared them with a few select girls, with instructions to keep it all to themselves. I should’ve known that never works out. I was as indiscreet as everyone else. So, everyone has everything. The videos are also out there on the web if you have a private browser and know the keywords to search for. All the social media platforms have versions that are less explicit, but still rather stimulating. As Cathy said, leaving something to the imagination can be fun too.

The authorities managed to round up copies of most, if not all, of the videos. There was an extensive investigation to determine if any laws had been broken by the school district or the clinic. It was finally decided this was a civil matter. Any redress would be through the civil courts.

The parents had a right to know what their children had been subjected to, so were shown the videos of their sons, and consequently the sons of all the other parents. The boys’ privacy continued to be violated, even by the efforts taken on their behalf.

Fallout is continuing to fall with no end in sight. Lawsuits are ongoing, and will be for years. Big Nurse has been personally named in many of them. I kind of feel sorry for her. I think she was trying to do the best job she could in an impossible situation. She just didn’t have an abundance of empathy in that huge bosom. At least not for boys.

Once the lawsuits started, the local and national news ran endless stories with their own edits of the videos. The faces were blurred out. So were the dangly parts, but with as little obscured as they could get away with. They know their audience. People want to be titillated by salacious content but still have plausible deniability. They can say they didn’t seek it out. It was right there on the news. Some quick shots from the rear featuring bare bottoms even made the final cut. One was Tristan’s, with two seconds of his elbow rhythmically working, making it clear what he was doing. The public has a right to know, as they say.

I knew if the kids whose images were being spread across the news had been girls, the videos wouldn’t have been broadcast at all. Part of me got angry at the inequality of it. But another part did a capering, gleeful dance in my head, singing, ‘Take THAT, you BOYS.’ I’m a very conflicted person.

Every time a new lawsuit finds its way to the courtroom, a new jury is presented with all the unedited videos. And more news stories rehash the events and air their own images yet again. This continuing string of court cases keeps interest in the community stoked. And insures that life for the boys never gets boring. I’ve overheard conversations where some lament they don’t want to go out in public anymore because they don’t know what the people they’ll meet have seen. A few even refused to return to school, forcing their parents into home schooling them.

I discovered I really enjoy Estelle and Layla’s company. And Cathy’s, although she can be silly at times. They are all way too young to hang out with, but I decided “What the hell.’ I wasn’t going to be ageist. Even Cathy’s friends, Tracie and Rachel, join us.

We let Tristan hang out with us, too. But he’s on permanent probation. And the girls had a stipulation to letting him join us. The entire group made him masterbate into a cup again while they watched from the front this time. For Tracie and Rachel, it was the first time they got to see him ‘in the flesh.’ I sat in on the session as I still consider myself to be his guardian. And I DID look out for him. I insisted they let him have his clothes back once he finished. Eventually. After they’d played ‘doctor’ for a while. For quite a while, actually. That boy can whine and complain nonstop. I don’t think he paused to take a breath.

Every once in a while, we’ll pull all his clothes off without warning. Never in public, though. We’re respectful of his modesty. He protests, of course. He doesn’t like it. He fusses. He fights. But not too vehemently. I’m sure he could put up more of a resistance if he really wanted. And he still hangs around with us. So that’s tacit approval… right? Sometimes the girls invite other girls over to join in the fun. It’s not like the new recruits don’t already know what every square inch of his body looks like. As I said, EVERYONE has the videos. Some bring their own vinyl gloves to play urologist.

Despite his embarrassment, or because of it, I think his grudging consent of what they do is his penance for previous bad acts. We shouldn’t take advantage of that mindset. But we do. None of us are perfect. Maybe one day I’ll have to do penance of my own.

Anyway, the girls usually end their undress-the-boy-and-play-with-his-body sessions by taking things… or thing singular… into their own hands and making it worth his embarrassment. Usually more than once. That boy can do more than complain. He can howl like a wolf at the moon.

Other than helping the girls undress him, I always just sit back and watch. Tristan has become part friend, part little brother. Touching him myself in any other way would seem incestuous.

Now that he’s on the receiving end of taunts and teasing on a daily basis at school, Tristan decided he doesn’t like the practice. He’s acquired a couple of new nicknames: Butthole Boy and Williams the Wanker. When it occasionally gets too much for him, I let him cry on my shoulder. I don’t even tease him for his unmanly tears. The only thing that keeps it from being completely overwhelming for him is the abundance of targets. The other kids’ malicious attentions are divided up between the dozens of boys from that day in the clinic.

The victims gravitated together in a kind of support group. New friendships were formed. Tristan sheepishly admitted to me that he’s part of multiple new circle jerks. He’s become quite open with me on matters that would’ve been strictly private and personal in pre-clinic days. I’m his confidant. And I’m learning all KINDS of things about boys I never knew before. He’s like my man on the inside.

Between the circle jerks and the girls’ playtime with him, I doubt he has need to masterbate on his own as much as he used to. Or maybe he masterbates even more as he recalls those other experiences.

Josh is a regular at one of those boy-only groups. I hadn’t witnessed what happened to him in the waiting room, but by all accounts it was horrific. Small children can be formidable in a large group. I heard it took hours to extract all the sticky lollipops. By the time he was rescued, his ego had been permanently punctured. When the arrogant fall, they fall hard.

Josh used to take what he wanted, but now no longer has the confidence to even ask a girl out on a date. He’s settled for trading hand jobs with the boys he bullied not too long ago. Sometimes he does more. Maybe Josh is doing penance, too.

I forbade Tristan to associate with Lonny and Todd anymore. They weren’t happy about that. I think they missed what he did for them in their own private sessions more than the mere pleasure of his company. Lonny refused to give up without a fight. When he and Todd caught Tristan behind the school and roughed him up, I had to prove that I could be rougher. And I made sure to do it in front of plenty of other kids. Their reputation as intimidating bullies took a bigger beating than they did. For added effect, I made sure that Tiny Todd’s pants and underwear came off in the midst of the battle. When I left, those garments left with me. This was all caught on video from multiple phones, too. Todd’s teeny tiny tinkler is out there on the internet if anyone wants to search for it.

When I’ve seen Lonny and Todd around the neighborhood since then, I’ve noticed a difference in the way they interact with each other. They’re no longer on equal standing. I think Todd has been forced into the role Tristan vacated. Slurp THAT, Todd.

I encounter boys from the clinic often, mostly in school, but sometimes around town. What I say to them depends on which boy it is and my mood of the moment. Usually, I’m very complimentary, telling them how good they look in and out of their clothes. Strangely, most don’t take such compliments well.

I saw the little redhead in the mall and told him how natural redheads are hard to find, so I was glad to have made his acquaintance. The poor thing started shaking so badly, I had to practically carry him over to a bench in the food court. That convinced me to leave the little guy alone from then on.

I can’t talk to Carl without staring at his crotch. He has to remind me, “I’m up here. Eye contact.” I don’t know how I missed that sausage-shaped bulge in his jeans before. I guess it just shows how shallow I could be before that day. If the face wasn’t handsome, I didn’t look any further. The clinic has cured me of that.

Whenever Timothy sees me at school, he scowls and goes another direction. I can’t blame him for that. Touching his bottom was way out of line. I don’t suppose telling him how irresistable it is would make up for my transgression.

I’m still friendly with Andy. In fact, he bashfully asked me out on a date. This time I was the one to deliver the rejection. I didn’t even do it with malice. I told him he was a sweet boy and had a lovely penis, but there was someone else in my life.

Which brings me to my last bit of news. I have a big, buff boyfriend now. A football player. NOT Josh. He goes to a different school than me, but it’s only a few miles away. So it’s not like a long distance romance. He’s big and muscular and very well endowed. And he knows when to be strong and when to be gentle. So far we haven’t gone ALL THE WAY. I’m waiting for just the right moment. I’ll know it when it arrives. He’s patient. And it’s not like he doesn’t get SOMETHING in the meantime.

Slurrrrrpppp.