Marty

Marty Part 2 - Tannerized

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

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Tannerized
(Marty, Part 2)
[by Alpenhorn, 2017]

Glossary:
acorn---the glans of the penis
bollocks---testicles
boner---erection
bum---buttocks
drawers---underpants
flagpole---erection
indubitable---impossible to doubt; truer than true
kid---child
make out---kiss, hug, and fondle
mate---friend
playing doctor---a child’s game that involves disrobing
prostate---a gland; part of the reproductive system
sport wood---have an erection in a public place
starkers---completely totally utterly no-doubt-about-it naked
torch---a hand-held battery-powered spotlight; flashlight
wazoo---anus
willy---penis

Movie Classifications:
Chapter 1: PG [for brief nudity]
Chapter 2: G [general audience]
Chapter 3: R [for graphic nudity]
Chapter 4: R [for graphic nudity]

Characters:
Martin---a teenaged boy
Heather---a teenaged girl

CHAPTER 1: the party

Martin? That was a boy in my class at school. I had barely noticed him, so I was surprised when I got an email from his pa, inviting me to the party for his thirteenth birthday. My own thirteenth birthday had been just the month before, so I knew what was involved with the “thirteen poses”.

It seems that, as Martin’s pa was planning things, he had to come up with the roster of thirteen people to invite. After close friends, neighbors, family, he had a few spaces left. One of Martin’s mates told him that Martin had a crush on me. Who knew?

At first I intended to email back and decline. Then I thought: I can use some money. Maybe if I can get a good pose, I can win. So I accepted.

The night of Martin’s party, one of his mates had me come to the park and wish Martin “Happy Birthday”. That may be the first time I actually looked at Martin carefully. I could see that they had been right: he was indeed smitten with me. I can use that to my advantage, I thought.

Just before midnight, I arrived at the house of Martin’s neighbor, where the party would be. I didn’t know if I should bring a gift, so I bought a half-liter of ice cream. Martin’s dad thanked me and put it in the freezer. (As it turned out, it was a dish of my raspberry sherbet that got that neighbor banned.)

We turned out the lights and waited. We heard the boys come in the back door. Then we heard the water running in a shower. The last two of Martin’s friends showed up, breathless.

When Martin was shoved into the room, we suddenly turned on the lights and shouted ‘SURPRISE!’ We definitely surprised him. No one could fake that shocked expression. That was the first time I saw Martin naked.

I had asked Martin’s pa to schedule me for the last pose of the night. My idea for a winning pose: an erection. I knew that boys sometimes get erections at any time for no reason. But doing it on demand, with no touching? That was the trick. I whispered meaningless sweet nothings in his ear, and eventually succeeded. The surprised reactions of the others there gave me confidence that I would win.

But I did not win. That was a wasted night!

CHAPTER 2: begging for a date

In the days after the party, things went back to normal. I ignored Martin. His eyes followed me all the time. Maybe he had been doing that before, but I just had not noticed?

About a week later, I was walking down the hall in the school. Martin called to me: ‘Heather!’ But I didn't even look, I just kept walking.

The next day, the same thing: ‘Heather!’ But now he was blocking the way so I had to stop. ‘What?’ ‘Would you go on a date with me?’ ‘No.’ I pushed past him and continued down the hall.

A week later. ‘Heather!’ ‘Yes, Martin?’ ‘Would you go on a date with me?’ ‘No.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘You’re just a kid.’ I walked on.

Next time. ‘Heather!’ ‘What?’ ‘Would you go on a date with me?’ ‘No.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘You’re just a kid.’ ‘Am not: I’m officially a teenager.’ ‘Look, Martin. I saw your willy at the party. Remember? That is all the evidence I need: you are just a kid.’

He gave me a sad-eyes puppy-dog look. But those tricks will not work on me!

Next time. ‘Heather!’ ‘What?’ ‘Would you go on a date with me?’ ‘No.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘You’re just a kid.’ ‘What would it take to prove to you that I am not just a kid?’

Before I brushed him off again, I got an idea. A sneaky idea. ‘OK, Martin. Skip lunch tomorrow and meet me at The Zone. I’ll tannerize you.’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘I guess you’ll find out tomorrow. If you come.’

My idea was that I could use Martin to get some experience doing medical things. I had the idea back then that I would be a physician when I grew up. I had been doing some on-line studying. I had some of the medical apps on my iPhone. But I had no actual hands-on patients to try them on. Until Martin “volunteered”.

The Zone is a sort of teen community center just across the street from the school. In the main room were things to amuse teenagers. Game tables of various kinds, magazines, computer desks, lounge chairs, two-person chairs for making out, food vending machines in the back. In the late afternoon and evening it would be packed. But at noon there were only two or three kids there.

I had reserved the medical alcove. It was off to the side of the main room. There was small amount of medical equipment and an examining table. Nothing major, but enough for my purposes.

CHAPTER 3: tannerized

Martin came into the medical alcove to meet me.

I explained: ‘Some guy named Tanner researched and classified the stages of puberty. By measuring certain things about your body, one can compute a number called the “Tanner index”. It will show where you are in puberty: from child to adult. Are you sure you want me to do it to you?’

‘Indubitably,’ he answered.

‘Get undressed,’ I said. He looked a little surprised, but he did it. ‘You can put your clothes on the chair, there.’

‘Shoes and socks, too.’ He did it. ‘Now the drawers.’

But he didn't take his drawers off.

‘Are you giving up Martin? Will you stop pestering me?’

‘No, I want to go ahead. I want a date with you. Really! But what about them?’ Martin looked uneasily into the main room of The Zone. There was no privacy here. Anyone in the room could see us if they looked.

‘Martin,’ I explained. ‘They are all thirteen or older. The Zone is limited to teens only. They can see your naked pictures on-line any time they want. They could even do it using one of the computers right there in that room.’

He removed his drawers. Charmingly, he covered his crotch with his hands.

Now I had the kid starkers! All to myself! Without any “no touching” limitations! This is what we used to call “playing doctor”. Tannerizing does not really require the subject to be nude. But I had so much control over that pathetic kid, why not use it for this?

*

There was a Tanner Kit in the cupboard; I put it on the counter. I got out my iPhone and thumbprinted it on. ‘Hello, Siri,’ I said. ‘Hello, Heather,’ the phone answered. ‘Siri: Run app Tanner.’ ‘Tanner four dot two. Hello, Heather.’ ‘Siri: Patient name---Martin ... hmm.’

‘Martin, what’s your surname?’ ‘Stuart.’ ‘Siri: Patient name---Martin Stuart.’ ‘Stuart, Martin Aloysius---Medical records found.’

‘Hey,’ Martin objected. ‘You can just get my medical records?’

‘With this app, as far as the records system knows, I’m a physician.’

‘Don’t you need to get my permission?’

‘Oh, yes, I should get your permission. I’m just a beginner, so I forgot... Do you, Martin Stuart, authorize me, Heather LeLache, to give you medical services?’

‘Of course. Anything for you, Heather!’

‘Put your thumbprint here.’ What a pathetic kid!

*

I put the phone on the counter, so my hands would be free.

‘Stand over here with your back against the wall. As tall as you can. No, heels on the floor.’ I adjusted the indicator. ‘Siri: Height 155 cm.’

‘Now step up on the scale. Siri: Mass 44 kg.’

‘Come over here by the window.’ With sunlight on his skin, I could get an accurate color, comparing with the “skin tone” card from the Tanner kit. ‘Siri: Skin tone---2A.’

‘You skin is very pale, Martin; don’t you ever go out in the sun?’ ‘I sunburn easily, so I have to wear something opaque when I do.’

I was feeling like a real physician! ‘OK, Martin. Lie down on the examining table.’ His legs were horizontal, but his back and head were supported so that his upper body was maybe 30 degrees from horizontal. He still covered his crotch with his hands.

When his naked skin touched the table, the readouts lit up. I read them to the phone. ‘Siri: Temperature 38. Siri: Oxygen 98. Siri: Pulse 102. ’

‘102 is a bit high, Martin. I guess you are excited to see me?’

‘Oh, yes. Indubitably,’ he replied.

I continued: ‘Siri: Voice---soprano.’

*

‘Well, kid. Now we come to the important part of the Tanner evaluation. You will have to move your hands. Unless you want to give up and agree to stop pestering me?’

Of course the silly kid did not give up.

I said, ‘There are hand-holds on each side, there by your ears. See them? Grab them and hold on tight.’ He did. Now I could see his willy! With a kid this pathetic, it was easy. Martin blushed.

‘Spread your legs wide, let one leg hang down on each side of the table.’

‘I remember this pose,’ he said, nervously. ‘I don’t suppose there is some ice cream in that kit?’

‘Martin, be serious.’

I folded away the extension---the part of the table that had been supporting Martin’s feet. Now I could stand practically between his knees. Starting at his knees, I ran my hands slowly up his two thighs. I could feel him quivering at my touch. ‘Siri: Leg hair---minimal.’

I moved to Martin’s side. I put my palm on his tummy, and slid it slowly up to his neck. He inhaled sharply when I did it. ‘Siri: Chest hair---minimal.’

Now my fingers were on his throat. ‘Siri: Adam’s apple---slight.’

I felt his face. ‘Do you shave?’ ‘No.’ ‘Siri: Facial hair---none.’

I could clearly see the kid’s underarms, because he was holding onto the handholds. But still I massaged each underarm with my fingers. His body tensed. ‘Siri: Underarm hair---none.’

Next I came to the good part. I ran my fingers around the base of his willy and around his bollocks. He was panting after that. His willy was getting longer. I leaned close for examination. I used the finger-size electric torch from the kit. I moved his willy left and right, examining its base. I moved his bollocks this way and that, looking from all angles. ‘Siri: Pubic hair---none.’

It was fun tormenting the kid---he never objected to anything I did, no matter how outrageous.

I held the pigmentation card beside Martin’s bollocks. ‘Siri: Scrotum pigmentation---5C.’

Martin’s willy was rising up. I glanced at his face. Eyes scrunched closed, and a grimace.

I got the orchidometer from the Tanner kit. I gently felt one of the kid’s balls, massaging it between thumb and two fingers. I did the same with the orchidometer beads using my other hand. The idea is to find the bead with size matching the ball. Martin’s voice had been making little squeaks as I did this. ‘Siri: Testicular volume 5 mL.’

Martin watched warily as I took a glove from the dispenser on the wall, put it on my right hand, and applied some lube to a finger of it. His eyes were wide; his mouth was open in an O. I stood between his knees.

‘Ready, Martin? Next I check your prostate. Move your heels up to about here. Press inward, squeeze the table with them. Hard as you can. Hold tight with your hands.’

I knelt down and stuck my lubed finger up Martin’s wazoo. His sphincter muscles fought me. It was harder to do than I had guessed from my reading. But I kept pushing. And pushing. Martin was moaning. Finally, I felt his famous prostate gland. My first time! ‘Siri: Prostate size 2.’ I gave it a couple of extra massages. Martin grunted at each one. I pulled my finger out. The kid shuddered. ‘OK, Martin. Relax your legs.’ I discarded the glove.

Last, and best, the willy. I squeezed it with a finger and thumb. The kid’s whole body tensed. I could feel his pulse---by now certainly higher than 102! His willy certainly felt “hard” to me. But what did I know? All I had done was read about it.

‘Martin, is your willy fully erect?’

‘Oh, yes.’ His voice was a squeak. ‘Indubitably!’

I took the tape measure from the kit. ‘Siri: Erect penis length 9 cm. Siri: Erect penis circumference 7 cm.’

Then the phone interrupted. ‘Data out of sequence. Missing data: Flaccid penis.’ Stupid app. ‘Siri: Flaccid penis unavailable.’

Martin was panting faster.

I retracted his foreskin. He jerked in surprise when I did it. ‘Siri: Foreskin type five.’

I ran thumb and two fingers around Martin’s little acorn. He cried out, ‘aah!’ and bucked maybe ten centimeters off the table. ‘Siri: Glans sensitivity---extreme.’ ‘Category not recognized.’ Actually, I made that one up, so of course the app did not recognize it.

I put his foreskin back over his acorn.

With a finger I pushed his willy downward toward his knees, let my finger slide off the end, and watched as the willy snapped back up into position. ‘Siri: Penis rebound---high.’ ‘Category not recognized.’ I wonder if I can program the app not to say that? Then my subject won’t guess I am just making things up.

I stuck my little finger in Martin’s “innie” belly button and twisted. He tensed his stomach muscles and grunted. ‘Navel sensitivity---moderate,’ I reported. That’s how to do it: just don’t say “Siri” first.

I wiggled two fingers along the skin between his bollocks and his wazoo. He tensed his muscles down there and grunted again. I pretended to report that result.

It was fun to torment the kid. I was ready to tweak his nipples. Then maybe the soles of his feet? But now not only Martin’s face was red---his hands gripping the handholds were also turning red. His thighs were tensed, pressing his heels into the sides of the table. Soon he could be hurting himself. Time to stop.

‘Siri: Compute Tanner index.’ ‘Computing.’

‘OK, kid, that’s all. You may get dressed now.’ He got up in a flash. He got dressed. There was a bulge in his trousers.

The calculation finished: ‘Tanner index two.’

‘That’s your result, Martin. You are just a kid. I will only date you when you reach at least Tanner four. Preferably five. Now get out, while I clean up here.’

He looked dejected. His body had betrayed him.

CHAPTER 4: Doctor please

I thought the kid would leave me alone then. But I was wrong.

A month later in the hall. ‘Heather!’ ‘Yes, Martin?’ ‘Would you go on a date with me?’ ‘No, Martin.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘You’re just a kid.’ ‘Prove it: tannerize me.’

‘Kid,’ I argued. ‘You can’t grow that much in a month.’

‘Prove it!’

So I agreed to tannerize him again.

Of course the results were the same as the first time. And it seemed to me that it was just as traumatic for Martin as before.
At the end I said: ‘Get out of here. Don’t bother me with this again.’

I had already had my eyes and hands all over Martin’s body. Twice. So I had no interest in doing it any more. But maybe Martin thought that this was the only way to get me to notice him.

In the school hallway a month later: ‘Heather!’ ‘What?’ ‘Would you go on a date with me?’ ‘No.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘You’re just a kid.’ ‘Prove it: tannerize me.’ But I just answered, ‘NO.’

Unexpectedly, he replied, ‘Doctor please.’ That phrase in English was the international medical aid request. If you say ‘Doctor please’ to a physician, then he is required to give you medical help, or find someone who will. Of course, I was not a real physician, so I did not have to respond. But it showed how serious Martin was. Or at least how love-struck.

‘OK, Martin. Monday at noon.’

One of Martin’s mates, Eli I think, was in the hallway nearby. He had seen the exchange. He asked me, ‘What was that?’ So I explained it to him.

‘Do you think it would be all right if some of Martin’s mates came to the next one?’ he asked.

‘Sure, why not.’

*

Monday at noon. I was in the medical alcove. Three boys---Eli, Mo, and Ankit---were sitting, all in a row, where they would have a good view.

The kid came in and gaped.

‘Hi, Marty,’ one of the boys said.

‘Guys! What are you doing here?’

‘We’re here to watch you get tannerized.’

‘Watch me?’ Martin’s voice squeaked. He seemed distressed. ‘Heather, did you do this?’

‘They volunteered,’ I said. ‘Of course, you can go away and not bother me again. In fact, I prefer that.’

‘No, I want you to tannerize me.’ Like I said, he was a pathetic kid.

So, I tannerized him.

With those guys watching, it seemed even more unpleasant for Martin than usual.

The three boys watched as Martin stripped himself starkers. By then they were already breathing heavily.

Their eyes got wide when they watched Martin move his hands and reveal his willy. The kid’s face blushed even redder than usual.

The three boys listened attentively as I stated loudly and clearly the measurements and observations of Martin’s body. “Erect penis length 9 cm”---who wants even his closest mates to know details like that?

When I did the sensitive parts of Martin’s body, his mates helped him. Eli stood on one side and Mo on the other, and Martin squeezed their hands instead of the impersonal hand-holds. Ankit got some paper towels to mop the sweat from Martin’s face, and a small paperback book for him to bite on. I wish I had mates as fine as that.

The three boys grunted along with the kid when I stuck my finger up his wazoo.

Their eyes got wider and wider as Martin’s willy stood up straighter and straighter. Who wants even their closest mates to watch that? One of them said ‘ooh’ quietly at the final maximum flagpole.

I could clearly see that those three boys all had boners of their own.

The kid just closed his eyes and waited for the next indignity.

The boys’ eyes practically bugged out of their heads when I retracted Martin’s foreskin and tweaked his acorn. They cried ‘aah’ and jerked when Martin did---some sort of sympathetic reflex, I guess.

At the end, when Martin lay exhausted on the table, the boys kept holding Martin’s hands, and talked quietly to him in encouragement. Then they helped him get dressed, and walked back to the school with him.

*

I did not think Martin would give up, and I was right, he didn’t. He “Doctor pleased” me a month later.

The word got around. This time there was a whole gallery waiting, including not only the three boys from before, but also a few girls from our class. Even some random teens from the main room of The Zone.

When Martin entered The Zone, and he saw the crowd, his face turned red. (Usually, it didn’t turn red until he had to move his hands and exhibit his willy.) But despite his embarrassment, he still came into the alcove and said, ‘Tannerize me.’

So I said, ‘Get undressed.’

He looked around. ‘Do these girls have to stay?’

‘Indubitably.’ I used his own word on him.

So Martin was tannerized with an audience.

Those extra observers did not make it easy for the kid. ‘Three of us had a sleepover last night with Alice,’ one girl explained, ‘to get ready for this. The theme was: Marty’s naked pictures. We are now experts. And Alice was there at the “thirteen poses” in person, so she gave us the inside info on what happened. We even know about the pictures that were banned from the Web.’

When the kid started to disrobe, some of the girls started a loud commentary on his body, describing everything they saw.
They even had written a cheer: When Martin was lying on the table and I told him to move his hands, they started chanting:

‘Mighty oak
or tiny wee?
Move your hands,
we want to see!’

As the session went on, the commentaries became quite crude. Of course I did not stop them: maybe this would convince the kid to give up on me. When Martin moaned or grunted, they laughed. When he jerked or shuddered, they would comment ‘Wow!’ or ‘He sure felt that one.’

“Pubic hair---none,” I told Siri. I wondered if Martin’s intimate details would be known to the whole school by tomorrow. (As far as I know, they never were.)

Did this embarrassment convince him to stop? No such luck.

*

This continued, once a month. That kid was persistent. But pathetic. Every time I told him to go away and forget it. But every month he came back. The tannerizing of Martin Stuart became a social event among a select group of connoisseurs.

Some customs grew up in our public tannerizing sessions. For example: When Siri announced ‘Tanner index two’ at the end, the gallery would moan. Then, while Martin was still lying starkers on the table, they would come to him one at a time, and say ‘Better luck next month.’ As each one said it, they would put a hand somewhere on Martin’s naked body. (For good luck, they said.)

Later, that custom morphed a bit. Usually at the end of the session, Martin was lying there with a flagpole pointing to the sky. So of course the thing to do when wishing him ‘Better luck next month’ was to give his willy a squeeze. It helped his face stay red, I guess: 8 or 10 squeezes in a row like that.

*

Then one day something new happened. Siri said ‘Tanner index three’. The gallery cheered.

Mo jumped up: ‘Everyone wait a minute. Martin, don’t get dressed.’ He ran into the main room and bought a liter of raspberry sherbet. Laughing, he dumped a few scoops of it on Martin’s tummy.

‘Congratulations, Martin!’ they all yelled. ‘Half-way there!’ Mo fed us all sherbet to celebrate. All while the kid was lying there starkers, ice cream running down his body, flagpole throbbing, a silly smile on his face.

*

My next attempt to get the kid to quit: assistance from the gallery. One month I had Ankit do the initial exams: height, weight, skin tone, and the readouts from the table. The next month Alice did these, and I got Elise to check for leg and chest hair.

I would teach them how to do the tests. So I stood on Martin's left, Elise stood on his right. ‘Run your palm up his thigh like this.’ The kid was even more tensed up than usual. By then he really had some leg hair. I taught my assistants how to gauge it from the feel.

I asked Ankit to check for pubic hair. ‘Shine the torch there at the base. Move his willy out of the way to check all sides. At this stage, we just count the number of hairs. Later, when there are more than 20 or 30 of them, we will note when their color changes, and when they start curling. Now do his bollocks in the same way.’

I got the kids to take turns on the tests. But I reserved the prostate check for myself. ‘It requires training,’ I claimed. I always do just enough prostate massage to insure that Martin's willy exhibits its one hundred percent maximum flagpole. That is what all the kids come to see.

*

After many months, I finally said, ‘Today for foreskin: Alice.’

Each month I could observe the kids who came. Alice would practically devour Martin’s body with her eyes. So before I finally asked her to do the foreskin, everyone else had already done it, some more than once. If Martin wanted a girlfriend, he shouldn’t be pestering me---he should ask Alice. She seemed to be in love with him. Actually, though, it was not Martin she loved, but Martin’s willy. Not even that---Martin’s flagpole. So maybe they would not be a good match.

I said, ‘Today for foreskin: Alice.’

‘Hooray!’ Alice jumped at the chance.

‘Alice,’ I chided. ‘If you are going to do this, you need to act professionally.’

‘OK.’

I stood on one side of Martin, she stood on the other. Just after the prostate massage, Martin’s willy was as prominent as possible.

‘To retract the foreskin, hold like this, and slide the skin. Now you try.’

‘Mmmm,’ she hummed as she did it.

Martin’s breathing was ragged, as usual.

‘The definition for foreskin type five says: “retracts to completely expose the glans”, so check that you can see all of Martin’s little acorn. Even under here.’

‘Woo-eee.’

‘Alice, please.’

‘Right. Sorry. Professional.’

‘Now put the foreskin back. No, without stroking.’

Who was panting more: Martin or Alice?

‘Now push it down that way. Feel how much resistance there is. When you slide your finger off, watch how fast it rebounds.’

Simultaneously, Martin went ‘aah’ and Alice went ‘wow’.

Sometimes I wonder who is more aroused: my assistant or my subject.

*

They all relished checking the sensitivity of the kid’s little acorn. By that time the sensitivity had declined from “extreme” to “very high”. Even if Martin knew it was coming, though, his body still would involuntarily buck when anyone fingered his acorn. The nerves from there go directly to the spinal nerves---no brain needed.

Elise got to be better at orchidometry than I was.

Martin would lie there and just take it, looking at me with his sad puppy-dog eyes.

Even after I subjected him to all those indignities, he did not give up. Every month he came back for more.

I made sure to instruct my assistants on how to avoid going clear through to orgasm: ‘That would be considered “sex”. It is illegal for us to do that to him until he reaches age sixteen.’

The boys in the gallery were shocked. ‘But isn’t that unpleasant for Martin?’ Paul asked. ‘We get him all heated up, then send him away with no release?’

‘Of course it’s unpleasant. I’m always hoping it will be too unpleasant, and Martin will give this up and leave me alone.’

‘I suppose he can rush home and take care of it by himself.’

‘Normally you might think so,’ I smiled cruelly. ‘But I schedule these sessions during the school lunch period. So as soon as we finish here, Martin has to rush back to school sporting wood.’

*

That small group grew to know Martin very intimately. Practically every square centimeter of his body. They would discuss Martin with no hesitation, even when he was lying right there. Were his pubic hairs were starting to curl? When would his willy achieve the next centimeter in length? The pigmentation of his scrotum. Had his voice fully changed, or just broken a few times? Could he grow a beard, or would it look too scraggly?

Sometimes I fantasize about when those kids become parents themselves. How much of an asset will it be if they are experts on male puberty?

EPILOG: Tanner index four

Finally, the day came. ‘Tanner index four,’ said Siri. It was more than two years since the first time. Martin and I were both fifteen.

It was a happy day and a sad day for our group. No more need for tannerizing Martin. He now had a loyal and supportive group of life-long friends that no one else in the Village could match.

I agreed to a date.

[the end]

(End of File)