Humiliated Lad

[liittlefiish]

Experiences a group physical exam​

I pushed through the heavy glass door of the pizza joint just off campus, the air thick with the smell of melted cheese and the buzz of college kids laughing and shouting over each other. The place was packed, a chaotic sea of students sprawled across tables, their voices blending into a deafening hum. My eyes darted around, searching for Sara, my girlfriend from high school, who I hadn’t seen since I moved into the dorms last month. My stomach did a nervous flip—not just from the crowd, but from the thought of seeing her again. She’s always had this power over me, ever since we met back in high school, her confidence and beauty making my knees weak and my cock twitch just thinking about her.

“Eric, over here!” she called out. I grinned and waved back, weaving through the tables to join her. As I got closer, Sara stood up, wrapping me in a warm hug.

“Eric, it’s so good to see you!” she said, her smile as familiar as ever.

“Great to see you too, Sara. It’s nice to have a familiar face around,” I replied.

As we settled down, I noticed Sara wasn’t alone. A striking young woman sat beside her, and a guy, slightly older, was sitting next to her.

“Eric, meet my roommate, Julia,” Sara introduced, then gestured to the guy. “And this is Bobby, a friend from the nursing program.”

“Nice to meet you, Julia,” I said, shaking her hand, then turned to Bobby. “Hey, Bobby, good to meet you too.”

“Likewise, Eric,” Bobby said, his handshake strong, his nod friendly but assessing. “I’m a nursing student, a year ahead of these two, and I work part-time at the university clinic. Keeps me busy.”

“Julia and I have been roommates now,” Sara explained.

“Oh, so you're nursing too?” I asked Julia, trying to keep my eyes on her face and not let them wander to the way her jeans stretched over her hips.

“Yup,” Julia said, nodding. “Sara and I are both in the program. We’re basically glued together—labs, lectures, study sessions, you name it.”

“And Bobby’s our unofficial mentor,” Sara added, shooting him a playful look. “Showing us the ropes, making sure we don’t faint at the sight of our first needle.”

I slid into the seat across from them, my eyes inevitably drifting back to Sara. She looked even better than I remembered, her athletic build accentuated by her tight clothes, her confidence radiating in a way that made my chest tighten. Back in high school, she’d been the girl everyone wanted, and somehow, she’d picked me. Even now, as my girlfriend, she still had that spark that made my heart race and my dick stir, especially when I thought about the times we’d snuck away to make out in her car, her hands teasing me until I was begging for more. Julia, meanwhile, had this cute, approachable vibe, her brown eyes warm but mischievous, like she was hiding a secret. Bobby seemed like the kind of guy who could handle anything—calm, collected, with a smile that said he’d seen it all.

We were all starving, so we ordered a couple of pizzas to share, the waiter scribbling our order with a bored look. As we waited, Julia leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “So, Eric, how do you and Sara know each other? High school sweethearts or something?”

“Sara and I go way back,” I said, smiling at Sara. “We met in high school, and she’s been my girlfriend ever since. She’s like the best part of home.”

“Aww, Eric. I miss you too. We’re planning to catch up over winter break, right?” Sara grinned.

“Absolutely,” I said. “It’s only been a week since I got here, but I’m already counting down to that. Having you nearby makes it easier, though.”

“So, Eric, are you settling into campus life okay?” Bobby chimed in,

“Pretty much,” I said. “My dorm’s set up, classes start next week, and I’ve got eight cool roommates—total studs,” I added with a laugh.

“Yeah, next week’s when the real chaos begins,” Sara said. “This week’s just about getting your bearings. If you need help with anything, Eric, just let me know. Starting college can be overwhelming.”

“I’m happy to help too,” Julia added.

“And if you need any clinic-related advice, I’m your guy,” Bobby said with a grin. “I’ve seen it all at the university health center.”

“Thanks, all of you,” I said. “I’m still figuring out the campus layout. All the buildings look so similar—I keep getting turned around. Actually, can you tell me where the Physical Education and Recreation Center is? I’ve got to be there tomorrow morning for a physical, and I’m not sure where it is.”

Julia grabbed a spare napkin. “Oh, that’s easy. Let me sketch you a quick map.” She pulled out a pen and started drawing.

“Funny you mention the P.E. center. Julia, Bobby, and I will be there tomorrow too.” Sara smiled.

“For physicals as well?” I asked.

“No, just the guys have physicals tomorrow,” Sara said. “The girls’ turn is the next day. We’re volunteering to help out.”

“Volunteering?” I raised an eyebrow. “You mean you’re doing the exams?”

“Nah, man, second-year nursing students like Sara and Julia just assist. Handing out forms, taking vitals, that kind of thing. I’ll be there too, helping run the show. It's a good experience, plus it looks great on our transcripts.” Bobby laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh, speaking of that,” Sara said, her eyes lighting up as she turned to her friends. “Julia, Bobby, you guys helped with the freshman physicals last week, right? What’s it like? I’m dying to know what I’m in for tomorrow.”

“Oh, Sara, you’ll see tomorrow. Let’s just say it’s… interesting. I don’t want to spoil the surprise. You’ll get the full experience soon enough.” Julia smirked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Yeah, it’s a wild ride. You’ll be fine, Sara, but I’m keeping my lips sealed too.” Bobby nodded, chuckling.

“Come on, give me something!” Sara pouted playfully.

“Nope,” Julia said, shaking her head. “You’ll thank me later. It’s better to go in blind.”

“Trust us,” Bobby added with a grin. “It’s more fun that way.”

“So, Julia, Bobby, you and your nursing classmates were at the physicals last week too?” I chuckled at their exchange and steered the conversation back.

“Yeah,” Julia said. “A bunch of us from the program volunteered. It was hectic but kind of fun. You get to see a lot of nervous freshmen, which is honestly pretty entertaining.”

“Definitely,” Bobby agreed. “Working at the clinic, I see nervous students all the time, but the physicals are next-level chaos.”

“Poor Eric, you’re gonna be one of those nervous freshmen tomorrow, aren’t you?” Sara laughed, her eyes flicking to me.

“Hey, I’m not that nervous,” I lied, my voice cracking slightly. My face burned as I thought about standing in a line of guys, my bikini briefs—the ones I’d been so embarrassed to buy—barely covering me. What if Sara or Julia saw me like that? What if I got hard, like Alex or Jacob? The thought made my dick swell further, and I shifted, crossing my legs to hide it. “But why do I even need a sports physical? I’m not an athlete. My counselor basically forced me to pick a sport, so I chose swimming. Seemed like the least painful option.”

“It’s a big deal here,” Julia said. “They push everyone to do some kind of sport. The physicals can get crowded, especially for guys, so get there early.”

“Bobby’s seen it all,” Sara added. “He’s probably got tips for surviving the madness.”

“Get there early, like Julia said,” Bobby advised. “And bring your patience. The lines can be long, but it’s not too bad.”

“I’m aiming for before 9 a.m.,” I said.

“That should work,” Sara said. “We’ll be there, so maybe we’ll spot you in the crowd.”

“Here’s hoping,” I replied with a grin.

We kept chatting over pizza and drinks for another hour, the conversation flowing easily as we joked about campus life, classes, and the chaos of dorm living. Sara’s leg brushed against mine under the table at one point, sending a jolt through me, and I caught Julia’s knowing smirk, like she’d noticed. Bobby told stories about the clinic that had us all laughing, though I couldn’t shake the image of him watching nervous freshmen like me squirm during exams. We said our goodbyes outside, Sara giving me another hug that pressed her body against mine, her lips brushing my cheek as she whispered, “See you tomorrow, Eric.” My cock stirred again, and I mumbled a goodbye, hoping the dim streetlights hid the bulge in my jeans. As I walked back to my dorm, exhausted from the day, I crashed hard that night, the quiet of my room a brief reprieve before my roommates returned. Tomorrow’s physical exam loomed in my mind, a mix of dread and curiosity swirling as I drifted off, wondering what it would feel like to be exposed in front of Sara, Julia, and God knows who else.

 

[liittlefiish]

I jolted awake to the shrill blare of my alarm, the sound yanking me from a deep, dream-soaked sleep. Groggy as hell, I rubbed my eyes, my body sluggish as I remembered why I’d set the damn thing so early: the medical exam at the Physical Education and Recreation Center. I needed a shower and some breakfast to feel human before facing whatever the exam had in store. My roommates, Tom, Kyle, and Ethan, had mentioned the exam over dinner last night, as they were also scheduled for it this morning, thanks to Jacob and Alex spreading the word.

I slipped on my bathrobe, grabbed my towel, shampoo, and soap shuffled down the narrow hallway of our flat, aiming for the private bathroom we eight guys shared. But when I reached the door, it was locked, the faint sound of running water and muffled humming coming from inside. Someone—probably Alex or Kyle, those early-rising bastards—was already in there, hogging the space. I groaned, my patience thin. No way was I waiting around with the exam clock ticking.

I decided to brave the communal bathroom on the third floor—our floor, thankfully, so it wasn’t too far. I’d heard stories about the public showers from Liam, who’d complained about their lack of privacy, but I’d never checked them out myself. The communal bathroom was just past the stairwell, marked by a faded sign that read “Men’s Facilities.” Pushing open the heavy door, I stepped into a space that felt like a mix of a locker room and a relic from some old high school gym.

The communal bathroom was massive, easily triple the size of our flat’s cramped setup. The air was thick with steam, carrying the sharp scent of industrial cleaner mixed with a faint musk of sweat and soap. The walls were lined with white tiles, some cracked or stained from years of use, and the floor was a slick, grayish linoleum that felt cold under my feet. On one side, a row of six stainless steel showerheads jutted out from the wall, spaced just far enough apart to make you feel exposed but not enough to avoid bumping into someone else. There were no curtains, no dividers—just open, communal nozzles spraying water in a wide arc, creating a misty haze that clung to the air. A few private stalls with flimsy curtains sat at the far end, but they looked barely used, their locks rusted and doors slightly ajar. Clearly, the communal area was the main event here. Opposite the showers, a long bench ran along the wall, its wood chipped and worn, littered with abandoned towels and stray shampoo bottles. Two wide, scratched mirrors hung above a pair of double sinks, their edges fogged from the steam, reflecting the hazy chaos of the room. A couple of urinals and toilet stalls were tucked in a corner, but they felt like an afterthought compared to the sprawling shower area. The whole place screamed exposure, like it was designed to strip away any shred of modesty.

Thankfully, the place was empty this early, the only sound the faint drip of a leaky showerhead echoing off the tiles. I let out a breath, relieved for the solitude, and chose one of the private stalls to avoid the open nozzles.

With the exam on my mind—not expecting a full physical but wanting to be thorough. I scrubbed myself clean from head to toe. Just as I started rinsing the shampoo from my hair, the main bathroom door swung open with a loud creak, shattering the quiet. Tom, Kyle, and Ethan’s voices boomed through the steam, their laughter bouncing off the tiles as they argued over who’d claim the showers first.

“Move your ass, Kyle, I’m not missing this exam because you’re hogging the water!” Tom shouted, his voice sharp with mock annoyance.

“Fuck off, mate, I’m faster than you anyway!” Kyle fired back, and I heard the thump of a towel hitting the bench.

Peeking through the narrow gap in my stall door, I saw them storming toward the communal shower area, their half-naked bodies a blur of motion. Tom was already shirtless, his lean, muscular frame glistening with a light sweat as he tossed his towel aside.

The once-quiet bathroom turned chaotic as they raced for the communal shower area, the private stalls already occupied. I peeked out from my stall and saw them playfully shoving each other, half-naked, under the communal nozzles, which were now in high demand. Water splashed everywhere as they scrambled to lather up, their banter drowned out by the hiss of the showers.

“Hurry up, Ethan, you’re hogging the water!” Tom yelled, dodging a spray. They were clearly in a rush, scrubbing quickly while joking about being late. I smirked, grateful for my private stall, and finished up, knowing we all had to make it to the exam on time.

“Hope they don’t make us strip down to nothing,” Ethan laughed, rubbing soap over his belly. “My junk’s not ready for a close-up!”

“Speak for yourself,” Kyle shot back, grinning as he shook his wet hair, water flying. “They’ll need a magnifying glass for you, mate!”

I stayed quiet in my stall, my cock stirring again at the sight of their naked bodies, all casual confidence and ease—everything I wasn’t. After finishing my shower, I hurried back to my dorm room, the faint echo of water dripping from the bathroom tiles lingering in my ears. Knowing I’d likely face the infamous “turn your head and cough” hernia check during the physical, I opted for a fresh pair of loose-fitting white cotton boxers, hoping they’d allow the doctor to perform the check without me having to fully drop them. I slipped on clean white socks, my favorite jeans, and a crisp T-shirt, feeling ready but slightly nervous about the exam.

—-------

With Julia’s hand-drawn napkin map tucked in my pocket, I left the dorm and headed to the campus dining hall. The morning air was crisp, and the quad buzzed with students rushing to early classes, their backpacks bouncing as they weaved through the pathways lined with blooming dogwood trees. I grabbed a quick breakfast—a slightly overcooked bagel and a coffee that was more bitter than usual—and followed Julia’s map to the Physical Education and Recreation Center. Arriving at 8:30, I noticed a stream of guys funneling toward the building, their chatter filling the air with a mix of nerves and bravado. I joined the crowd, letting their momentum guide me.

Stepping through the main entrance, I entered a soaring three-story atrium, its glass ceiling flooding the space with soft morning light. The polished concrete floor reflected the bustle of activity—guys milling about, some clutching paperwork, others joking in small groups. In the center, several tables were set up, each with a sign and a small line forming. I spotted one labeled “Pre-participation Physical Registration - Table #1” and got in line, watching the organized chaos unfold. Students, all male, moved in every direction—some heading down a hallway to the right with fresh paperwork, others returning from the opposite direction, clutching completed forms and heading left.

After a short wait, I reached the front of the line. Two female students, about Sara’s age, sat at the table, both wearing dark blue polo shirts with the university logo stitched on the chest. Their table was neatly organized, with stacks of forms and a clipboard holding a list of names. “Hi, can I have your name, please?” one of them asked, her voice cheerful despite the early hour.

“Eric,” I replied.

She scanned her list, her pen tapping lightly against the clipboard. “Found you! First-year student, right?”

“Yep,” I nodded.

She peeled a pre-numbered label from a packet of forms and stuck it next to my name on her list, then handed me the packet. “You’ll need to fill out these medical history forms. Head down the hallway to your right to Table #2 for check-in. Across from it, there’s a room with desks where you can complete the forms. Make sure to sign everywhere it asks and read the disclosures. Any questions?”

“Nope, I’m good. Thanks,” I said, taking the packet and heading down the hallway. The corridor was lined with posters of past university sports victories, the vibrant colors contrasting with the sterile white walls. At Table #2, two more female students, also in dark blue polos paired with bright white shorts, were managing the flow of students. One glanced up as I approached. “Can I see your paperwork?”

I handed it over, and she jotted down the packet’s serial number in her log. “Alright, fill these out at any empty desk in the rooms across the hall,” she said, gesturing to a set of doors. “Here’s a pen if you need one.”

“Thanks, I forgot to bring one,” I admitted, grabbing a pen from the table.

“When you’re done, bring the forms back here,” she added.

I stepped into the first room, where a handful of guys were already seated at desks, scribbling on their forms. The room smelled faintly of coffee and pencil shavings, and the fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead. I found an empty desk near a window overlooking the campus fields, where a few early joggers were circling the track. The first form was straightforward—name, dorm number, phone, address. The second, a detailed medical history, took longer, requiring me to dig through memories of childhood illnesses and vaccinations. As I worked, a couple of guys finished and left, their chairs scraping against the floor.

Just as I was signing the last disclosure, I heard familiar voices outside the room. Peeking through the doorway, I saw Tom and Kyle at Table #1. They looked slightly disheveled, probably from rushing after their own chaotic shower session. It seems we’d all be navigating this exam together.

The rest of the paperwork seemed like standard legal disclosures and releases. One authorized the doctors and nurses to examine me, another confirmed that I had received their official privacy policy, and the last one mentioned some kind of research—something about a study on human growth and development. By then, though, I was tired of filling out forms. I didn’t bother reading them closely. I just signed everything so I could move on with the physical.

With the packet in hand, I walked back to table #2. Tom and Kyle were already standing there, waiting their turn to get their forms checked. Ethan had just disappeared through the doorway to table #1, where they were starting the first round of exams.

“Here you go,” I said, handing the forms to the young woman I’d spoken with earlier. She quickly flipped through the pages, making sure everything was filled out and signed.

While she checked my paperwork, the other girl at the table gave me a once-over. She wasn’t outright staring, but she was definitely sizing me up with a playful smile—as if she were undressing me in her head. She was kind of cute, and maybe she thought the same about me. Or maybe she looked at all the guys that way. Or maybe she just liked to flirt. I guess I’ll never know.

Once she was satisfied, the first girl jotted something in her logbook and stuck a small, circular orange sticker to the front of my packet.

“What’s the orange sticker for?” I asked.

“Oh, that means you agreed to everything, including the optional disclosures,” she explained.

“I didn’t realize some of those were optional,” I admitted.

“It’s not really a problem,” she replied, handing the packet back. “Now, head down this hallway, past the check-in table, then down the other hall. At the entrance to the gym you’ll find table #3. Just check in there, and they’ll tell you what to do next.”

“Got it, thanks,” I said, nodding to both of them.

I made my way back down the long corridor, retracing my steps past the reception desk where I’d first signed in. The hallway opened into a brighter space, with fluorescent lights humming faintly above and the low echo of sneakers squeaking on the gym floor somewhere beyond the closed doors. I still hadn’t spotted Sara, maybe she had been assigned to table #3.

When I finally reached the table, I saw two young women seated there, neither of them Sara or Julia. Like the others I’d met, they wore the official uniform of dark blue polo shirts tucked into white shorts, the outfit giving the whole operation a strangely coordinated, almost clinical look. The table was positioned right outside the gym doors, which were shut tight, and just a few feet away a side door marked “Men’s Locker Room” stood waiting. From where I stood, I watched several guys ahead of me hand over their packets, get checked in, and then file through that locker room door. It was clear that the actual physical exams were taking place inside.

When it was my turn at the front of the short line, one of the young women greeted me with a brisk, professional smile.

“Hi, can I have your paperwork, please? I’ll also need to see your photo ID.”

I handed her my packet and my student ID card. She studied the photo for a moment, glancing back up at me before cross-checking the details against the first form I had filled out. Without breaking conversation, she slipped a wristband around my left wrist and pulled it snug. The band reminded me of the kind used in hospitals, complete with a barcode that she quickly scanned with a handheld device. After tapping a few entries into her laptop, she pulled out a manila folder, affixed a numbered sticker to it, and scanned that as well.

“There you go,” she said matter-of-factly. “That’ll make sure your records don’t get mixed up with anyone else’s.”

She handed me a small lock with a key attached to a thin cord.

“You’ll need this for the locker room. Just wear the key around your neck during the exam.”

I tested the key in the lock, then shoved both into the front pocket of my jeans. While she was occupied, the second girl carefully slid my forms into the manila folder, labeling the tab with letters from my name—just like a real doctor’s office filing system.

“He’s orange,” the second girl remarked, scanning my paperwork.

“So, what’s the orange label for?” Curious, I asked,

“It means you volunteered to participate,” the first girl replied. The two of them flipped through my forms until they reached the disclosure page. She tapped the spot where I had signed. “See? Right here you agreed to take part in the study if chosen at random.”

A cold weight settled in my stomach. “But I don’t want to be part of any study,” I protested. “I didn’t even realize those forms were optional! Nobody explained that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a tone that was polite but firm. “Once you’re randomly chosen, you’re in. That’s how the study stays valid. It’s been running for years, and we can’t let people back out without messing up the results.”

I stared at them, stunned. I thought I’d signed up for a simple sports physical, and now I was being drafted into some kind of research project. “So what exactly does this study involve?”

The second girl gave a little shrug. “We don’t know firsthand—it’s only for male students. But we’ve been told it’s just a few extra measurements and tests right after your physical.” Both of them were smiling now, their expressions a little too knowing, like they were in on some secret. I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were holding back more than they were saying.

“Alright… I guess I’m stuck with it.” With no real choice, I sighed.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Eric,” the first girl said, surprising me by using my name for the first time. She slipped the completed folder across the desk to me, now marked with a bright green label.

“Just take this into the locker room and they’ll get you started,” she added, nodding toward the nearby door.

I clutched the folder, still unsettled, and turned toward the locker room entrance.

 

[Sexy123789]

One can only wonder what humiliations lie ahead!

 

[liittlefiish]

“Hi, can I see your paperwork please,” said a young man standing just inside the inner door. He wore white shorts and a dark blue polo shirt, signaling some official role. He looked a couple of years older than me, maybe in his early twenties. As I handed him my manila folder, I realized it was Bobby, the nursing student I’d met the day before at the pizza place off campus, introduced by Sara. He gave me a quick nod and a grin.

“Hey, Eric, good to see you again,” Bobby said, his tone friendly. “Had fun at the pizza place yesterday, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, man, that was a great time,” I replied, smiling back. “Didn’t expect to run into you here so soon.”

Bobby chuckled as he opened my folder to check the contents. “Small world, right? Sara and Julia were fun to hang out with. You’re lucky to have Sara around.” He grabbed a handheld scanner and scanned the barcode on the folder’s cover, then the one on my wristband. “Alright, you and your buddies are in for a thorough check-up today. I’ll make sure we do this right—gotta keep you freshmen healthy for the swim team.”

“Appreciate that,” I said, half-laughing. “Just go easy on us, okay?”

“No promises,” Bobby teased with a smirk. “But don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you.”

After leading us into the room, he introduced us to Rose, another nurse from the university clinic. As we lined up against the wall, Nurse Bobby shuffled his papers, giving us a moment to take in the surroundings. The room was clearly a medical exam space, but it was unusually large—unlike any doctor’s office I’d ever seen. It had two full-size exam tables, a scale for measuring height and weight, two rolling stools, and a countertop wrapping around three walls. On the counter sat typical medical tools: stethoscopes, reflex hammers, otoscopes for ear exams, boxes labeled “latex exam gloves,” and several tubes with blue-and-white labels.

"OK, gentlemen," Nurse Bobby began. "First, I need to confirm we have the right boys and that you’re all 18." He called out our names from the manila folders in his hand, each one dedicated to one of us. As he read, we raised our hands obediently. He also asked for our birth dates, cross-checking them with his records.

As he neared the end of the roll call, another woman entered. "Oh great, you made it," Bobby said. "I was starting to think I’d have to handle this group alone."

"So sorry," the new woman replied.

"No problem," Nurse Bobby said warmly. "I’m just glad you’re here." Addressing us, he continued, "Gentlemen, this is Dr. Zella, a licensed nurse practitioner who will be conducting your examinations today."

Dr. Zella smiled at us. "Hello, gentlemen." She looked maybe 25 to 30, and her fitted white nurse’s uniform accentuated her athletic build.

"I’ll be assisting Dr. Zella with your exams," Nurse Bobby added. "And some of you may know Rose, who will be recording the results in your files." I glanced at Rose, who seemed amused. Great, I thought, a whole team of women for what was supposed to be a simple screening. Overkill, much?

As we stood there, Kyle leaned over and whispered to Ethan, “Dude, after showering in P.E., I put my jockstrap back on. Never thought it’d be a big deal, but this? This is gonna be embarrassing.”

Nearby, Tom leaned toward me and muttered, “Same here. I just bought a couple of jockstraps because my volleyball coach insists we wear them for practice. And, of course, I’ve got practice this afternoon right after this stupid health check. Just my luck.”

"OK, any questions boys?" Nurse Bobby asked.

We exchanged stunned glances. The only question was how we ended up in this mess, but no one dared ask.

"Good," he said. "Then let’s get started. Please remove your shoes, socks, T-shirts, and gym shorts. You can leave your underwear on for now." Our shock turned to horror at the thought of undressing in front of them.

"But Nurse Bobby," Kyle interjected, "we just came from P.E. class, so we’re not wearing, um, our normal underwear. They make us wear a—"

Nurse Bobby cut him off. "Yes, I’m aware of the P.E. department rules. I know you boys are required to wear athletic supporters. That’s what I meant by underwear. Leave your supporters on, but everything else comes off now." I caught Rose smirking, clearly enjoying our discomfort.

"Go ahead, boys, get undressed. We need to get started," Dr. Zella ordered.

As we began undressing, the women in the room took turns washing their hands at the sink. I was down to my gym shorts when I glanced at Kyle beside me. He had just stepped out of his shorts, standing there in only his jock. Next to him, Tom, like me, still had his gym shorts on. Together, we pulled them down and stepped out, leaving on his jock and my tiny briefs. On my right, Ethan was also down to his briefs, nearly as exposed as the rest of us. A long bench sat against the wall behind us, and I turned to place my shorts on the pile with my other clothes. Unlike before, my briefs provided full coverage, so I didn’t feel as vulnerable turning around. Still, I caught Rose looking our way, her eyes scanning us with interest. I couldn’t decide if it was worse having her stare at the front of my briefs or just the situation itself. This whole setup felt utterly wrong.

Now undressed, we faced the women in the room. Tom and Kyle clasped their hands in front of themselves, trying to preserve some modesty. Ethan and I let our arms hang by our sides. Rose handed Dr. Zella one folder and Nurse Bobby another, keeping the remaining two herself.

“I’ll start with Tom,” Dr. Zella said. “Please step up here, son.” Tom walked toward the exam table beside her. As he moved, I couldn’t help but think how awkward it must feel to walk across the room in just jock. Standing there in mine was bad enough, but moving around like that? I knew my turn was coming soon. I did notice that Tom had a decent ass on him. Nothing like Alex though.

“Sit up here on the table,” Dr. Zella said, patting the exam table.

“Kyle, over here, please,” Nurse Bobby called. He then addressed all of us. “Boys, when it’s not your turn, please wait quietly against the wall. We’ll cycle through the first part of the exam quickly, so you won’t be waiting long.”

Kyle headed toward Nurse Bobby, with Rose following to assist. Ethan and I stayed back, left to watch and grow increasingly nervous about our own exams.

Both nurses finished their initial exams almost simultaneously. “Alright, Tom, you can return to the wall,” Dr. Zella said, gesturing to the spot beside me. Tom stepped down and rejoined us. Rose handed the next set of folders to the nurses.

Dr. Zella glanced at her folder. “Kyle Lucas, come on up.” Kyle moved from the weighing station to her exam table, where she began checking his ears, eyes, nose, and throat.

With Nurse Bobby and Rose momentarily free, I braced myself. “Eric, your turn,” Nurse Bobby called. I walked to the scale and stepped on as instructed. Nurse Bobby adjusted the weights while Rose stood behind me, jotting down notes. I felt her gaze on me, her faint smile unnerving. “Turn around for your height,” Nurse Bobby said. I faced Rose, who still had that subtle grin. “Stand straight, hands at your sides,” Nurse Bobby directed. With no way to cover myself, I felt exposed despite the briefs.

After the scale, they began my measurements, starting from the head and working down, just as I’d seen with Kyle. They measured my head and neck, then asked me to extend my arms for bicep and chest measurements. Nurse Bobby stepped close, wrapping the tape measure around my back and pulling it tight across my chest. He called out each measurement for Rose to record. Next, he measured my waist and hips, the tape pressing against the front of my briefs as he aligned it. The contact was light but noticeable, catching me off guard.

He crouched to measure my inseam. “Spread your legs a bit,” he said. His fingers brushed the bottom of my briefs as he measured, the tape grazing the fabric. I stared straight ahead, right at Rose, who stood in my line of sight.

Just as Nurse Bobby finished, Dr. Zella dismissed Kyle. He returned to the wall, and I headed to Dr. Zella’s exam table. Ethan, the last of our group, was called to the scale for his measurements with Nurse Bobby.

Dr. Zella examined me the same way she had the others, checking my ears, eyes, nose, and throat. As she leaned in to check my eyes, I caught a faint, pleasant scent—like she’d just showered and dabbed on a light perfume. She was professional and quick, finishing the exam and sending me back to join Tom and Kyle against the wall.

It was now Tom’s turn for measurements while Ethan headed to Dr. Zella’s exam table. As Ethan walked over, I noticed a slight bulge in the front of his briefs. I’d seen him in the locker room before, and this was new— he seemed a bit aroused, the outline in his briers subtly evident. Unfortunately for him, our exams were only just starting.

The nurses completed their checks on Tom and Ethan, and for a brief moment, we were all back against the wall together. The pause didn’t last long. “Tom, you’re up again,” Dr. Zella called.

“Kyle, over here, please,” Nurse Bobby directed.

Their system for rotating us between the two exam stations was clearly well-coordinated. Watching Tom and Kyle head to their respective spots, I couldn’t help but wonder how far these exams would go. Nurse Bobby had mentioned we could keep our underwear on “for now,” so I assumed we’d eventually need to lower our jocks and briefs briefly, likely for something like a hernia check. I scanned the room for a privacy curtain or screen, but there was none. It felt eerily similar to stories I’d heard, like those about Alex and Jacob.

Dr. Zella, with a stethoscope in her ears, was listening to Tom’s chest and back. He sat on the exam table, taking deep breaths and holding them as she moved the stethoscope. At one point, she stepped behind him, tapping his back with her fingers.

I shifted my focus to Kyle’s exam, knowing I’d be next. He was seated on the exam table while Nurse Bobby manipulated his arms and shoulders, likely testing his joints and muscles for an orthopedic assessment.

“Lie back for me, Kyle,” Nurse Bobby instructed. “And bend your knees.” Kyle reclined, knees up, feet flat on the table. From where Ethan and I stood against the wall, we could see the position he was in, though his jock kept everything covered. Nurse Bobby and Rose, standing closer to the table, had a clearer view.

“Now, cross your right leg over your left knee,” Nurse Bobby said. He continued his exam, moving Kyle’s legs and hips to check their range of motion.

Until I saw Kyle in that position, I hadn’t realized how vulnerable we felt in just our jocks and briefs. With his knees bent and legs apart, the fabric of his briefs stretched tightly, outlining his anatomy clearly. The snug fit left little to the imagination, highlighting the contours of his body. I’d seen Kyle in the showers before and knew he had a well-endowed physique, but the jock made it more noticeable. He didn’t play school sports, but his muscular build suggested he was active in some athletic pursuit. Rose seemed to notice, too—her attention lingered on him more than the rest of us.

I glanced over to check on Tom’s exam. Dr. Zella had him lying down, her stethoscope pressed to his chest, listening intently.

“Alright, Kyle, stand up,” Nurse Bobby instructed. I turned to see Kyle rise and move to the center of the room, facing away from us. Nurse Bobby stepped behind him, briefly inspecting his spine. Rose stood nearby, jotting down the nurse’s observations. Then, Kyle was told to bend over and touch his toes while Nurse Bobby examined his back again. I cringed at how humiliating that position must be, knowing I’d soon be in his place. As a final task, he had Kyle squat, hands on his head, and do a duck walk across the room. I dreaded this part of the exam.

Tom finished first and returned to the wall beside us. Dr. Zella waited patiently for Nurse Bobby to complete Kyle’s exam, as she’d be examining him next.

“Okay, Kyle,” Nurse Bobby said, “head over to Dr. Zella now.”

Rose handed my folder to Nurse Bobby. “Eric, your turn,” he called. I walked to the exam table and sat down. Like with Kyle, he started by testing my arms and shoulders, moving them into different positions and applying pressure.

“Push back against me,” he said, asking me to resist his movements. He also checked my wrists and fingers briefly. “Now lie back, Eric, and lift your knees,” he directed. I complied, raising my knees with my feet flat on the table. I tried keeping my knees together, but he gently pushed my feet apart, positioning them at the table’s edges. The briefs still covered me, but I felt exposed in this vulnerable position.

Then, Nurse Bobby paused and looked at me. “Eric, I’ll need you to remove your briefs for this part of the exam. We need to check for any skin issues or abnormalities in the pelvic area, and the briefs might obscure our view.” My stomach dropped. None of the others had been asked to do this, and the thought of being the only one fully exposed in front of everyone made my face burn with embarrassment. Reluctantly, I slid off the briefs, placing them on the table beside me, my hands instinctively moving to cover myself. The cool air hit my bare skin, amplifying my discomfort as my genitals and backside were now completely uncovered.

Nurse Bobby began examining my legs and knees, lifting and moving each one as he had with Kyle. I glanced at Tom and Ethan against the wall. They were watching me, smirking, clearly amused by my predicament. Unlike them, I had nothing left to shield myself, and their stares made my humiliation worse. I knew that they could see everything between my legs, including my exposed ass hole. I guess that was more interesting to them than Kyle's exam on the other table. Rose, too, seemed to edge closer to Nurse Bobby, her eyes fixed on me. It was clear she was taking in every detail, her subtle grin betraying how much she enjoyed this. Her deliberate positioning to get the best view made me hyper-aware of my exposure. The thought of being so openly displayed, with her watching so intently, sent a rush of blood to my groin. I felt the beginnings of an erection and prayed no one would notice.

“Now stand up and face that wall, please,” Nurse Bobby said, pointing to his left. I stood, grateful to turn away from the room, hoping it would hide my growing arousal. Nurse Bobby and Rose moved behind me to inspect my back. Though I was spared their direct gazes, I knew my bare backside and everything else were fully visible to everyone in the room, intensifying my shame at being the only one stripped completely bare.

“Now bend forward and touch your toes,” Nurse Bobby instructed. I complied, leaning down, my bare body fully exposed. The cool air against my skin made my vulnerability even more pronounced, with nothing to cover my genitals or backside. His hands moved along my spine, carefully palpating each vertebra. The position felt endlessly humiliating, but finally, he said, “Okay, Eric, you can stand up now. That’s done.”

I thought I’d escaped the worst when Rose spoke up. “Nurse Bobby, doesn’t he need to do the duck walk? It’s listed on the form.” Of course, Rose would notice. My brief relief vanished.

“You’re right, my mistake,” Nurse Bobby said. “Eric, please squat down, hands on your head, and walk forward.” I crouched, placed my hands on my head, and shuffled across the room as they watched. There was no way to do this gracefully, especially completely naked. My legs splayed wide, leaving everything—my genitals, my backside—on full display. The fact that I was the only one stripped bare, unlike the others still in their jocks briefs, made my cheeks burn with shame. I could feel a slight stirring in my groin, the exposure amplifying my embarrassment.

“That’s enough, Eric,” Nurse Bobby said. “You can go to Dr. Zella now.”

As I stood, I noticed Kyle had already returned to the wall. Dr. Zella patted her exam table. “Up here, Eric,” she said. I climbed onto the table, hyper-aware of my nudity as Nurse Bobby called Ethan to his station. Dr. Zella started by checking my pulse and blood pressure, her movements professional but doing little to ease my discomfort. She then used her stethoscope to listen to my chest and back. “Take a deep breath and hold it,” she directed, then, “Breathe normally.” She repeated this several times, moving the stethoscope across my chest and back, even placing it briefly on my neck to listen.

“Now lie back, Eric,” she said. As I reclined, she continued listening to various spots on my chest. Lying there, fully exposed, I could tell my body was still reacting to the situation—a slight arousal that wasn’t yet obvious but could become a problem if I didn’t focus. I wondered if Tom, Kyle, or Ethan, standing against the wall, could tell. The thought of them noticing, while they remained partially covered, deepened my mortification.

“Alright, Eric, you’re done for now,” Dr. Zella said. Relieved, I got up and rejoined the others at the wall, still painfully aware of my nakedness compared to their relative modesty.

Tom and Ethan completed their remaining exams at their respective stations. While Dr. Zella examined Ethan, I noticed his chest was completely smooth, devoid of any hair, almost like a young boy’s. I’d seen him in the locker room a few times but never paid attention to this before—perhaps he was just a late bloomer. Yet, it was clear Ethan was feeling the intensity of the moment; a slight bulge in his briefs betrayed his arousal. The combination of being nearly naked and the focus of so much attention seemed to be getting to him. I wondered if his excitement would become even more obvious.

Ethan leaned toward me and whispered, “Man, look at Kyle. Guy’s built like a machine. Bet he’s loving all this attention, even if he’s pretending not to.” His tone was half-amused, half-envious, his eyes flicking toward Kyle’s athletic frame.

Tom, meanwhile, was lying on his back with his legs raised for his orthopedic exam. I knew Tom from some classes, but I’d never seen him in the locker room or showers. Unlike Ethan, Tom had noticeable body hair. His arms and legs were covered in fine blond hair, which was less visible against his fair skin but still apparent, especially around his groin, where curls peeked out from the edges of his jock. As a member of the junior varsity track team, Tom was fit, with toned legs and thighs, though not as muscular as Kyle. Soon, both Ethan and Tom finished and rejoined us against the wall, waiting for the next phase.

Rose promptly started the next round, distributing folders to the nurses.

“Tom, over here,” Nurse Bobby called.

“Kyle, I’m ready for you,” Dr. Zella said.

Tom and Kyle headed to their assigned stations for the next part of the exam. I couldn’t help but wonder what else they could possibly check; it felt like they’d already covered every part of us.

“Lie down on the table, Tom,” Dr. Zella instructed. Once he was settled, she began pressing her fingers into his abdomen, methodically working her way down his torso.

 

[liittlefiish]

I shifted my focus to Kyle’s exam. He stood before Nurse Bobby and Rose, who was using his stethoscope to listen to his heart. It seemed odd since Dr. Zella had already checked our hearts earlier.

Ethan whispered again, “Bet Kyle’s heart’s racing, not just from running. Rose’s practically glued to him.” He smirked, nodding toward Rose’s focused gaze.

“Okay, that’s good,” Nurse Bobby said to Kyle. “Now, I need you to jog in place to elevate your heart rate, then I’ll check again.” He guided him away from the table to give him space. Kyle started jogging in place, his movements slow at first as Nurse Bobby timed him.

“Lift your knees higher, please,” he directed. Kyle complied, raising his legs with each step.

“How long do I have to keep this up?” Kyle asked, his voice slightly strained.

“About two more minutes,” Nurse Bobby replied.

As Kyle jogged, his arms swung naturally. Nurse Bobby stood to his side, observing, while Rose positioned herself directly behind him, her eyes locked on his every move. From our spot against the wall, Ethan and I faced Kyle, and it looked like he was running toward us. His athletic build was striking—his thigh and leg muscles flexed with each stride, his chest rising and falling with heavier breaths. The tight jock shifted slightly with his movements, accentuating his ample manhood.

Ethan leaned in once more, whispering, “Look at him go. Those legs? No wonder Rose can’t stop staring. Bet she’s got the best view back there.” His comment made me glance at Rose, whose faint smile confirmed she was thoroughly engrossed in watching Kyle.

I glanced back at Tom’s exam with Dr. Zella. She was still conducting the abdominal check, her hands now pressing lower on his torso, dangerously close to the edge of his jock. The bulge in his jock seemed more pronounced than before, suggesting the exam’s sensations were affecting him.

Just then, Nurse Bobby’s voice pulled my attention back to Kyle. “Alright, Kyle, that’s enough. Stop running and stand still.” Kyle halted, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Nurse Bobby pressed his stethoscope to his chest again, listening to his elevated heart rate. Moments later, Dr. Zella finished with Tom, and he returned to the wall beside us, ready to watch the next part unfold.

“You’re done, Kyle. Head to Dr. Zella,” Nurse Bobby instructed. Kyle moved to her station, where she promptly had him lie down for his abdominal exam.

“Eric, your turn,” Nurse Bobby called. I walked over, my bare skin prickling with self-consciousness, knowing I was the only one without briefs. The others, still in their underwear, seemed to have a layer of modesty I lacked, and the unfairness of it burned in my chest. Nurse Bobby began by having me stand beside the exam table as he listened to my heart. The cold metal of his stethoscope pressed against my skin, heightening my awareness of my exposed state.

“Now, Eric, step over here and start jogging in place,” he directed. I moved a few steps away and began, my nakedness making every movement feel like a spotlight was on me. Nurse Bobby stood to my side, observing, but I couldn’t see Rose. I assumed she was behind me, as she had been with Kyle, likely taking in the view of my fully exposed body. The thought made my face flush with embarrassment, knowing my genitals and backside were on display with every step.

“Lift your knees higher, please,” Nurse Bobby ordered. I raised my legs, trying to comply. “And speed up a bit,” he added. This was tougher than it looked, and I could feel the strain in my thighs. I jogged for what felt like an eternity, at least two minutes, each step exposing me further. Sweat began to form—under my arms, across my chest, and in my groin, where the absence of briefs left nothing to absorb it. A bead of sweat trailed down my back, slipping between my cheeks, adding to my discomfort. The others, still in their briefs, didn’t have to endure this level of exposure, and the contrast made my humiliation sharper. Yet, the physical exertion distracted me enough to ease the slight arousal I’d felt earlier.

“That’s enough, Eric,” Nurse Bobby said. “Come back here.” I stopped, panting, and returned to the exam table. As I stood, struggling to catch my breath, he pressed his stethoscope to my damp chest. I glanced over at Kyle, now lying on Dr. Zella’s table. Her hands were pressing low on his abdomen, close to the waistband of his briefs, her focus intense.

Dr. Zella completed Kyle’s exam, and it was my turn for the abdominal check. Ethan took my spot for the running test with Nurse Bobby. I lay back on the exam table, my nakedness making me acutely aware of every movement in the room. Unlike the others, who still wore their underwear, I had no barrier to shield me, and the weight of my exposure pressed heavily on my mind. Dr. Zella began by pressing her fingers into my upper abdomen, around what I assumed was my stomach area. She might have been checking organs like my liver or spleen, but I wasn’t certain.

“Breathe in deeply and hold it,” she instructed, followed by, “Okay, exhale.” As I held my breath, she pressed firmly into my sides, her fingers digging in with noticeable pressure.

“Any discomfort?” she asked.

I wanted to quip, “Yeah, your fingers are killing me,” but instead, I mumbled, “No.” She continued, methodically working her way down my abdomen.

From the wall, I heard Ethan whisper to Ethan, “Man, Eric’s got nowhere to hide. Look at him squirming up there.” Ethan chuckled softly, adding, “Yeah, bet he’s regretting whatever got him stripped down like that.” Their hushed comments, clearly about my vulnerable state, sent a fresh wave of humiliation through me. Being the only one fully exposed while they stood comfortably in their briefs made their words sting even more.

“Lift your knees, Eric,” Dr. Zella said. I raised them, feeling even more exposed as my legs parted slightly. She resumed pressing, now below my navel, her hands moving toward my pubic region with my dick showed. Without briefs to adjust, her fingers brushed closer to my groin, each touch amplifying my embarrassment. I could feel the eyes of Ethan and Tom, their smirks burning into me as they continued their quiet commentary, making my face flush hotter with every second.

"I'm just going to check your pulses now," she said. She put the stethoscope in her ears and pressed the other end to my pubic area. She listened to my left side for a few seconds, then moved to the right side and did the same thing. Her close contact with this area of my body was very stimulating. I could feel my erection starting once again.

Dr. Zella completed my abdominal exam and I was sent back to the wall to wait. Next, Ethan took his turn with Dr. Zella and Tom went over to Nurse Bobby and Rose for his running test. I watched as Ethan received the same type of abdominal exam that I just received, while Tom was facing us and running in place. You could tell that Tom was on the track team. Even though he was only running in place, his running seemed very natural and fluid. He didn't waste energy with unnecessary movements. Once again I could see that his thighs and legs were especially tight and fit. And I could tell that his arousal, which I first noticed during his abdominal exam, was still there and even increasing. Looking at him I felt a slight twinge of movement in my own cock. But for now, I focused more on Ethan as Dr. Zella moved lower on his abdomen. He was wearing a full sized set of briefs, covering his large, blubbery buttocks. I watched as she pulled down the front slightly and checked his pulses. I was trying to spot any pubic hair as she pulled down his briefs but I didn't see any.

The latest round of exams concluded, and we all gathered back against the wall. “Alright, gentlemen,” Nurse Bobby began, “thank you for your cooperation so far. We’re nearly finished, with just a few more steps to complete. To proceed, we’ll need you to remove your remaining clothing.”

My heart sank at his words, but a flicker of relief sparked within me—I wasn’t the only one facing this. Unlike earlier, when I’d been singled out to strip my briefs, now everyone would share the same exposure. The thought of not being alone in my nakedness brought an odd sense of excitement, easing the sting of my prior humiliation.

“Any questions?” Nurse Bobby asked. We exchanged uncertain glances, unsure whether to undress immediately or wait for our individual turns. Before anyone could clarify, he answered us.

“Let’s get those briefs and jocks out off now,” he commanded.

His words sent a rush of heat through me, my pulse quickening at the prospect of total nudity in front of the three women. The jocks and briefs were our final shield, and now they’d be gone—except for me, who’d already been stripped bare earlier.

“But what about her?” Ethan asked, gesturing toward Rose. “Does she really need to be here?” It was a valid question; one I’d been too shy to voice.

Dr. Zella responded calmly, “We’ve discussed this, and since Rose is training to become a nurse, it’s appropriate for her to assist and observe.” Rose stood there, a faint smile playing on her lips, clearly unfazed.

The three women faced us, their gazes steady, waiting for compliance. With no way out, Tom, Kyle, and Ethan reluctantly began to remove their underwear. I was already naked, spared the act but not the scrutiny. Tom and Kyle turned toward the wall as they slid their jocks down, likely hoping to preserve some modesty. They bent to step out of them, placing the jocks on their piles of gym clothes. Ethan hesitated but followed suit, his movements slow. One by one, they turned back to face the room, joining me in complete nudity. Standing there, exposed alongside them, I felt a strange thrill—my earlier embarrassment softened by the shared vulnerability. We were all in this together now, bare under the watchful eyes of Nurse Bobby, Dr. Zella, and Rose.

Standing there, fully naked, we instinctively pressed our thighs together, hands shielding our genitals. We knew we’d eventually have to drop our cover, but none of us were ready to stand completely exposed. Our attempt at modesty, however, seemed to irritate Dr. Zella.

“Gentlemen,” she said sharply, “we don’t have time for this coyness today. Are you going to make this difficult?” She stood, arms crossed, waiting for us to comply. We stayed silent, hands unmoving.

Kyle leaned toward me and whispered, “This is insane. They’re really gonna make us stand here like this?” His voice was low, laced with disbelief.

I nodded slightly, muttering back, “Yeah, and I’m already bare. At least you guys had jocks and briefs until now.” The shared humiliation, while agonizing, felt slightly less isolating knowing we were all in it together.

Dr. Zella’s tone grew firmer. “We need to finish these exams, one way or another. If you won’t cooperate, we’ll have to enforce stricter rules.” Her usual calm demeanor had shifted to frustration, and we exchanged uneasy glances, wondering what she meant by “rules.”

Ethan whispered to Tom, “What’s next? They're gonna make us do cartwheels?” Tom stifled a nervous laugh, murmuring, “Don’t give them ideas, man.”

Dr. Zella spoke again, her voice commanding. “Alright, have it your way. But this modesty needs to end now, or we’ll never get through this. Here’s the plan: raise your hands and place them behind your head. Do it now.” We hesitated, glancing at each other, but no one moved.

Our attempt to cling to some dignity was futile; we were powerless against their authority. Reluctantly, we lowered our hands to our sides, exposing ourselves fully.

“That’s better,” Dr. Zella said, “but I specifically asked for your hands behind your heads.”

With no choice, we complied as a group, lifting our hands and interlocking them behind our heads. Our bodies were now completely vulnerable, with no way to shield ourselves.

“Not so hard, was it?” she said, her tone softening slightly. “But I’m not convinced you’ve fully let go of your embarrassment. That could hinder the rest of the exam. So, let’s address this now and move forward without issues. You’re all standing with your legs pressed together, still trying to hide. That won’t do. We need to see your healthy young men. Spread your legs, at least three feet apart. Do it now.”

Tom muttered under his breath to me, “Three feet? They’re enjoying this way too much.” His words mirrored my own thoughts as I shifted my feet apart, the freezing air on my skin amplifying the raw exposure we all now shared.

We all spread our legs, assuming a wide stance that left us even more exposed. With my feet together before, I’d felt the warmth of my thighs against my groin. Now, with my legs far apart, the cool air brushed against my dangling genitals, intensifying my vulnerability.

“Wider, Ethan,” Dr. Zella said, eyeing him. We paused as he shuffled his feet further apart.

“You boys are quite the impressive group,” Dr. Zella remarked, glancing at Rose. “Don’t you think, Rose?”

“Absolutely,” Rose replied, her grin widening as she slowly scanned us, her gaze lingering below our waists.

Kyle whispered to me, “This is brutal. She’s practically eating us up with her eyes.” His voice was tense, reflecting the shared discomfort.

I muttered back, “Yeah, and we’re just standing here like trophies. At least I’m not the only one bare this time.”

Dr. Zella’s tone turned stern. “Since you hesitated to cooperate earlier, you’ll maintain this stance whenever you’re not being examined. Understood?” We nodded reluctantly.

We stood there, legs spread, hands behind our heads, as the nurses and Rose took their time observing us. I’d never felt so exposed in my life. I avoided looking at the others, especially below their waists, to keep my arousal in check. Though I didn’t glance down, I could feel my body reacting—my penis thickened, heavy with blood, not fully erect but noticeably engorged. The sensation of my heated skin against my balls was impossible to ignore.

Ethan leaned in and whispered, “This is insane. How are we supposed to stay like this without losing it?” His voice trembled with embarrassment.

I nodded slightly, whispering, “Just try not to look at Rose. She’s loving this too much.” Her gaze was relentless, and it wasn’t helping.

“Alright, now that we’ve moved past your reluctance, Tom, come over here,” Dr. Zella called.

“Kyle, step this way,” Nurse Bobby ordered.

As they moved to their stations, each nurse pulled a rolling stool in front of their exam table.

“Lie down on the table, Tom,” Dr. Zella instructed. As he climbed up, she snapped on a pair of latex gloves and began examining his genitals, lifting his circumcised penis and gently palpating it. Tom wasn’t erect, but his penis was notably long, though thinner than average.

Staring blankly at the ceiling, Tom’s penis began to inflate. Ever since the club I was wondering how I compared to my chill friend. I saw it all.

Truthfully, we looked a lot alike. Tom was a shower cock for sure. He did not grow much longer hard. Actually, his cock looked maybe a bit shorter than mine, and a bit thinner. I remembered his comment during Kyle’s brazen and humiliating photos of my soft, 3-inch penis…that our balls were the same size. He was honest! Couldn’t see a difference there; as I lightly tugged my scrotum down with my average-sized balls with it.

Tom probably had not woken up this morning and thought he would be fully exposed, the size of his balls and erection on display for me to look at.

“Well, you saw mine at the club pal, now I can take a long look at yours. Truth is we are two normal guys with normal cocks and balls. Which is perfectly fine.” After rooming with Alex and Kyle flaunting his hog, it was comforting to see someone else with a normal set of genitals in our pod.

Stl in the spread-eagle stance with my hands behind my head, I noticed Ethan beside me trying to cover himself again.

“You can’t do that,” Rose said, her voice sharp.

Dr. Zella’s patience snapped. “Ethan, get back in position—now,” she commanded.

Realizing she meant business, Ethan spread his legs again and placed his hands behind his head. I glanced over and saw what he’d been hiding: a full erection, his uncircumcised penis curving upward, foreskin retracted. A sparse patch of hair dusted the base of his penis and around his testicles, barely noticeable until now. I quickly looked away, worried my own arousal was spiraling. Rose’s attention, however, remained fixed on Ethan, her eyes locked on his groin, not his face.

Tom whispered from my other side, “She’s staring at him like he’s a science project. Poor guy.” His tone mixed pity with unease, mirroring my own thoughts about our predicament.

I shifted my focus to Kyle’s exam. He stood before Nurse Bobby, who sat on a rolling stool in front of him, with Rose close by, clutching the folders. His legs were parted, arms at his sides, as the nurse ran his gloved hands through the hair on his pubic region and upper thighs.

“Pubic hair distribution is mature and well-developed,” he announced to Rose, who diligently noted it down.

It seemed he was assessing Kyle’s stage of puberty. I watched as he raised his arms, allowing him to inspect his underarm hair. Kyle appeared unfazed, showing no signs of arousal. His large, low-hanging testicles and thick, lengthy penis were consistent with what I’d seen in the locker room and showers—normal for him.

Ethan leaned toward me, whispering, “This is wild. They’re checking everything. Kyle’s just standing there like it’s nothing.” His voice carried a mix of awe and unease.

I whispered back, “Yeah, but I’m dreading our turn. No way I’m staying that calm.” The thought of being scrutinized like that, especially after being the only one naked earlier, made my stomach twist.

“Tom, please stand up,” Dr. Zella’s voice interrupted. My attention snapped back to Tom’s exam. He rose from the table and positioned himself in front of her, where she sat on her rolling stool. She tapped the inside of his thigh, prompting him to widen his stance. She then began a similar examination to the one she’d done while he was lying down, lifting his penis to inspect it before gently cupping and examining each testicle.

As I watched, she pressed her fingers into the area just above his right testicle. “Turn your head and cough,” she instructed. Tom coughed on cue. “Again,” she said. He complied with another cough. She shifted her fingers to his left side and repeated the process.

Ethan muttered under his breath, “That’s gotta be awkward. Coughing on command while she’s holding him? Brutal.” His words echoed my own dread.

“Yeah,” I whispered, “and we’re next. No hiding anything now.” The shared vulnerability made it slightly less isolating, but the anticipation was unbearable.

I glanced back at Kyle’s exam. Nurse Bobby had retrieved a string of white plastic beads of varying sizes. He held one up to Kyle’s left testicle, comparing them, then did the same with a slightly smaller bead for his right.

“Left testicle, 4.7 cm,” he said. “Right, 4.2 cm.” Rose nodded, recording the measurements. Then Kyle turned around, facing away from us, and bent over. Nurse Bobby parted his cheeks, inspecting the hair distribution in the area between his anus and testicles.

“Hair extends to the perineum,” he noted to Rose. “Tanner stage 5.” Kyle straightened up, waiting as Tom’s exam continued.

Tom’s genital and hernia exam concluded, and he rejoined us at the wall, letting his hands hang at his sides. Dr. Zella quickly intervened.

“Tom, back in position,” she commanded. “I told you all to maintain that stance when not being examined.” Reluctantly, Tom raised his hands behind his head and spread his legs wide.

“Kyle, over here,” Dr. Zella called.

 

[liittlefiish]

Kyle walked confidently forward, he must have become aroused with the inspection of his hole because his large erection swung left and right like a ticking clock. I could not help but admire his ass. Alex’s ass was big, muscular but wide. Kyle’s was perfectly smooth and round and hard as a rock. Two perfect globes that moved up and down as he walked. I needed to get control of myself. My erection was getting tighter, but I could not help it. “What if I got a finger in there when he was passed out? My face? Or best, fuck him on camera with a banana…wait, what was I thinking??”

He was directed to lie on the exam table.

“Eric, your turn,” Nurse Bobby said. I lowered my hands and stepped in front of him and Rose, my nakedness stark compared to the others’ earlier moments in briefs. The exposure felt raw, especially under Rose’s watchful gaze. Nurse Bobby snapped on a fresh pair of gloves and began inspecting the sparse hair on my chest, making a quick note before asking me to lift my arms to check my underarm hair. Then, his focus shifted to my pubic region.

“Spread your legs a bit more,” he instructed.

His gloved fingers combed through the hair above my penis, then moved to the hair around my testicles and inner thighs.

“Mature hair quality, but limited distribution,” he remarked to Rose, who was closely observing, pen poised over my folder.

From the wall, I heard Kyle whisper to Tom, “Man, Eric’s getting the full treatment. Bet he’s hating every second of this.” His tone was low, tinged with sympathy.

Tom muttered back, “Yeah, and Rose’s not missing a thing. She’s practically memorizing him.” Their words stung, amplifying my embarrassment as the only one who’d been naked from earlier rounds.

I glanced at Kyle’s exam.

His cock was an impressive sight, but not as big as Alex’s horse cock. Kyle looked over at me and gave a smirk and looked down at my erection with his eyes and then returned my gaze.

“He wants me looking at his size. Cocky bastard.” I realized. Well, there was no doubt he had more than an inch on me and Tom. He was longer than Ethan too. Thicker than us all and so were the size of his testicals.

“Get up Kyle. Come here.” Doctor Zella snapped.

He stood before Dr. Zella, who was now examining his penis and testicles. His arousal was unmistakable—his penis, thicker and taut, jutted out at a 45-degree angle, the skin stretched tight with no loose folds.

My focus snapped back when Nurse Bobby retrieved the string of white plastic beads. He gently grasped my left testicle, palpating it and pulling the scrotal skin taut to compare its size to the beads.

“Left testicle, 4.3 cm,” he reported to Rose. He repeated the process on my right. “Right testicle, 4.1 cm.”

I thought he was finished, but he returned to my left testicle, squeezing and probing it further without the beads. The prolonged attention, combined with my exposure, sent a surge through me. My penis hardened, angling downward at 45 degrees. I caught Rose’s gaze locked on it, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her expression unreadable but intense.

“Turn around and bend over, Eric,” Nurse Bobby directed. As I complied, his gloved hands parted my cheeks, a finger tracing along my crack to check for hair, then lower to the area between my anus and testicles. The sensation intensified my erection, making it almost painful.

“No hair in the perineal area,” he told Rose. “Record him as Tanner stage 4.”

I straightened up, catching Rose jotting down notes. Glancing down, I saw my penis now pointing straight out at a 90-degree angle, my arousal impossible to hide.

Nurse Bobby peeled off his gloves and turned to Rose. “Can I see Eric’s chart for a moment?” He took the folder, scribbling several notes before handing it back. Without warning, Bobby gave a quick squeeze to my 5.5 inch cock and smiled!

“Alright, Eric, I think everything with you is looking very…well. I’m done with you. Dr. Zella is ready for you now,” he said, and then he winked!

“Was he feeling up and flirting with me while I was erect in front of him??! I am straight!” I thought.

Kyle, having completed his genital and hernia exam, was back at the wall, standing spread-eagle as required.

“Climb up here, Eric,” Dr. Zella called as I approached her exam table. “Lie down, please,” she added. I settled onto the table, my nakedness stark under the bright lights, the memory of being the first stripped still lingering.

As she snapped on a fresh pair of gloves, I glanced over to see Ethan taking my spot at Nurse Bobby’s station. His erection was still prominent, curving upward noticeably. Then, I felt Dr. Zella’s gloved hands on my erect penis. With it already standing at attention, she didn’t need to lift it, instead palpating and squeezing it methodically. She moved to my testicles, lifting and examining each one carefully.

At the wall, Kyle whispered to Tom, “Eric’s getting molested. Look at him, trying to stay cool while she’s all over him.” His tone was a mix of amusement and unease.

Tom muttered back, “Yeah, and both nurses now? He’s gotta be dying up there.” Their words, though hushed, reached me, deepening my embarrassment as I lay exposed.

“Stand up, please,” Dr. Zella instructed. I rose, my erection now undeniable, curving upward at a 45-degree angle. Dr. Zella seemed unfazed, settling onto her rolling stool to continue. She thoroughly re-examined my penis before focusing on my testicles, starting with the right, rolling it between her fingers. She quickly moved to my left, spending what felt like an eternity squeezing and probing it.

“Nurse Bobby,” she called, “could you come over when you’re done with your patient?”

I shuddered. “What is he going to do now?”

“Of course,” Nurse Bobby replied. “I’m almost done with Ethan.” He finished his exam, instructing Ethan to return to the wall. “Ethan’s at Tanner stage 3,” he told Rose. I recalled my Tanner stage 4 and Kyle’s stage 5—higher seemed better.

Having not seen my heavy podmate naked, I took the opportunity to look him over; which I am sure he had done with me.

Ethan’s package was impressive for not being that advanced in puberty. Beneath his pudgy tummy he had some wiry pubic hair. It crowned a hard cock that was thicker and longer than either mine or Tom’s! Though not by much, maybe a half and inch or so.

Still, it was noticeably smaller than Kyle’s. Ethan looked like he was going to cry. He did not want the secrets of his family jewels to be exposed for all to see and gossip about. His testicles were small and nearly hairless, likely explaining his lower stage.

“What’s up?” Nurse Bobby asked, approaching with Rose trailing behind.

“I saw your note on Eric’s chart,” Dr. Zella said. “I checked his left testicle thoroughly, and it seems fine.”

“Good,” Nurse Bobby responded. “So what did I feel?”

“Put on a fresh pair of gloves, and I’ll show you,” Dr. Zella said.

Great, I thought, now both nurses are going to handle me again. I’d hoped the testicular exam was over. Dr. Zella reached out, grasping my left testicle, pulling it gently upward for inspection.

Kyle whispered to Tom, “Two nurses poking at him? That’s rough. Bet he’s wishing he could disappear.” Tom nodded, murmuring, “No kidding. This is next-level humiliating.” Their comments only heightened my discomfort, knowing I was the center of attention in the worst way.

“Is this what you noticed?” Dr. Zella asked, indicating a spot on the underside of my left testicle.

That prompted Nurse Bobby to join in, his gloved hand grasping my testicle and rolling it between his fingers while Dr. Zella still held it. Rose edged closer, her eyes fixed on the scene for a better view.

“Yes, that’s it. What is it?” Nurse Bobby asked.

“It’s just his spermatic cord,” Dr. Zella replied. “Eric’s is slightly thicker on the left. There might be a minor varicocele, so I’ll note it and suggest he follows up with his doctor.” Both nurses then let go of my testicle.

Kyle whispered to Tom at the wall, “They’re both handling him like it’s a science experiment. Poor guy’s gotta be freaking out.” His voice was low, a mix of sympathy and disbelief.

Tom muttered back, “Yeah, and Rose’s right there soaking it all in. Bet she’s loving this.” Their words, though hushed, reached me, intensifying my embarrassment.

Rose spoke up, “Is that the cord for the sperm?”

“Yes, exactly,” Dr. Zella confirmed. “Eric’s cord is just a bit thicker than average, but it’s not a serious issue.”

“Oh, good,” Rose said, sounding relieved.

“Have you ever examined a spermatic cord before, Rose?” Dr. Zella asked.

“No, not yet,” Rose replied.

“Well, put on some gloves. I’m sure Eric won’t mind,” Dr. Zella said casually, as if having a peer my age examine my genitals in front of everyone was no big deal.

“Is that alright?” Rose asked, glancing at me.

Not wanting to seem too willing, I paused before mumbling, “Yeah, sure.” My face burned with humiliation.

Rose donned a pair of gloves and sat on the rolling stool in front of me. Hesitantly, she reached out, gently taking both of my testicles, one in each hand. I stared straight ahead, catching the grins on Kyle, Tom, and Ethan’s faces as they watched from their spread-eagle positions at the wall. Rose carefully rolled my testicles between her fingers, comparing the left and right. My erection remained firm, pointing directly at her.

Kyle whispered to Tom, “Can you believe this? She’s got her hands all over him, and he’s just standing there.” His tone was half-amused, half-awkward.

Tom replied softly, “Yeah, and he’s hard as a rock. Bet he’s dying inside.” Their comments made my skin prickle with shame.

“Feel for the cord on his right side,” Dr. Zella instructed. “Can you locate it?”

“Yes, I feel it,” Rose said.

“Now check the left side,” the nurse directed.

“Oh, yeah, it’s definitely thicker,” Rose noted, her hands still cradling my testicles. My erect penis was inches from her face, and my mind began to drift. I imagined her lips closer, the thought sending a dangerous thrill through me. Our eyes met briefly as she looked up, and I quickly averted my gaze.

“Thanks, Eric,” Rose said with a smile, releasing me and standing to remove her gloves.

“Alright, Eric, back to the wall with the others,” Dr. Zella said. I walked over, resuming the required spread-eagle stance, my erection now at its peak, throbbing under the weight of their gazes.

“Ethan, I’m ready for you,” Dr. Zella said, gesturing for him to climb onto the exam table. She began examining his genitals as he lay down, her movements precise.

“Tom, over here,” Nurse Bobby called. Tom approached his station, where Rose joined them, holding the folders.

I watched Ethan’s exam, first on the table, then standing before Dr. Zella. His erection remained prominent throughout. Tom, however, stayed flaccid—the only one of us not visibly aroused. Nurse Bobby inspected his hair growth and compared his testicles to the white plastic beads. I was impressed by his composure; despite his long, thick penis, it still pointed downward.

“Left testicle 4.4 cm, right 4.2 cm,” Nurse Bobby reported to Rose. Tom then turned and bent over as he checked the hair in his perineal area.

“No hair between thighs and perineum,” he noted. “Record Tom as Tanner stage 4.”

Nurse Bobby turned to Dr. Zella, whispering, “I think we should include a rectal exam for all four. It’s standard for their age group to check for any abnormalities, especially given their athletic profiles.”

Dr. Zella nodded, murmuring back, “Agreed. It’s quick and necessary. We’ll need to explain it clearly to avoid resistance.” Their hushed discussion, though professional, made my stomach churn.

After a few minutes, Ethan and Tom finished and rejoined us at the wall, resuming the spread-eagle stance.

“Can we get dressed now?” Kyle asked, his voice hopeful.

“Not yet,” Nurse Bobby replied. “We’re finalizing that now.” He stepped over to confer with Dr. Zella.

Nurse Bobby addressed Rose quietly, “Stay and assist Dr. Zella with these final exams.” He then washed his hands at the sink and exited to the outer office.

Dr. Zella turned to us. “Alright, gentlemen, we have one last part of the exam, and then we’re done. Tom, come over here.” Tom lowered his hands and walked to the exam table.

“Get up here,” she said, patting the table. “This time, on your hands and knees.”

As Tom positioned himself, Dr. Zella grabbed a tube with a blue-and-white label and a container of what looked like sanitizing wipes from the counter. She snapped on fresh gloves. The setup was ominous. Tom’s position—kneeling, facing away from us—suggested a rectal exam. I’d heard guys joke about these, but I’d never had one. The thought of it now, especially in this exposed state, filled me with dread.

Dr. Zella whispered to Rose, “The rectal exam is critical for detecting any early issues, especially in young athletes like these. We’ll keep it brief but thorough.”

Rose nodded, replying softly, “Got it. I’ll prep the supplies.” Their calm professionalism did little to ease my growing anxiety about what was coming next.

“Lean forward and rest on your hands,” Dr. Zella instructed Tom.

Tom shifted into a hands-and-knees position, his bare backside almost directly facing us at the wall, though the table’s angle gave us a partial view of his left side. Rose positioned herself to Dr. Zella’s right, ensuring a clear view of the procedure.

“Spread your legs a bit and lower your chest to the table,” the nurse directed.

Tom complied, lowering his torso until it rested on the table, his knees nearing the table’s edges, parting his legs further.

“Perfect,” Dr. Zella said. “Let your hands rest by your sides.”

The position left no doubt—this was set up for a rectal exam. Tom’s cheeks were naturally spread, exposing his anus to the room, with his testicles and long penis dangling visibly between his legs.

I leaned toward Tom and whispered, “This is what Jacob was talking about, right? He said his rectal exam was humiliating. Guess Alex got lucky, dodging this.”

Tom nodded slightly, muttering back, “Yeah, Jacob warned us it was brutal. Alex must be laughing somewhere.” His voice was tense, reflecting our shared dread.

Dr. Zella squeezed lubricant from the tube onto her index finger, spreading it evenly. “Tom, this will feel cold, and you’ll notice some pressure,” she warned.

Without further delay, her lubricated finger pressed against Tom’s anus, lightly at first, then sliding in fully. Tom gasped audibly.

“Breathe normally and relax,” she advised.

Easy for her to say, I thought, as her finger reached its full depth, her left hand steadying his cheek. Rose watched closely, absorbing every detail. The nurse twisted her finger, probing deeper, prompting another loud gasp from Tom.

“Almost done,” Dr. Zella said. Moments later, she withdrew her finger. “Prostate and rectal exam normal,” she told Rose, who recorded it promptly.

She cleaned the excess lubricant from Tom’s backside with a wipe. “Good job, Tom. You can rejoin your friends.”

As Tom climbed down, now fully erect for the first time, he asked, “Can I get dressed now?”

“No,” Dr. Zella replied. “Since you all resisted earlier, you’ll wait until everyone’s done. Back to position.”

Rose’s wide smile followed us as Tom resumed the spread-eagle stance. Dr. Zella removed her gloves, putting on a fresh pair.

“Who’s next?” she asked Rose.

“Kyle,” Rose replied, sorting through the folders.

“Kyle, your turn. Up here, hands and knees,” Dr. Zella said. Kyle approached, climbing onto the table and assuming the position.

“Wider, please,” she instructed, and Kyle adjusted, his knees edging toward the table’s sides. I lowered my chest to the table, hands at my sides, feeling the cool air on my exposed anus as my cheeks parted, bracing for what was next.

Then came Dr. Zella’s familiar line: “Eric, this will feel cold, and you’ll sense some pressure.”

Her hand rested on my left cheek, followed by her lubricated finger touching my anus. She pressed gently, waiting for my sphincter to relax, then slid her finger deep inside. I gasped involuntarily.

“Breathe normally,” she said.

Her finger twisted clockwise, then counterclockwise, pressing firmly against my prostate. The sensation was overwhelming, and I grunted loudly, feeling an intense urge. She pressed again, and I gasped, the pressure almost pushing me to the edge. Then, she withdrew.

“All done,” she said, wiping away the lubricant with a wipe. I glanced down, noticing a drop of clear fluid at the tip of my erect penis, though I hadn’t climaxed.

“Prostate and rectal normal,” she told Rose.

I climbed off, catching Rose’s gaze on my erection. Our eyes met briefly, and we exchanged awkward smiles.

As I returned to the wall, resuming the spread-eagle stance, Ethan was called up. I whispered to Tom, “Jacob wasn’t kidding about this being rough. Alex definitely got off easy.”

Tom whispered back, “Yeah, I’d kill to be Alex right now. This is next-level embarrassing.” His words echoed my relief that the ordeal was nearly over.

Ethan assumed the position, his cheeks parting as Dr. Zella’s finger entered him, just as it had with us. Normally, I’d look away to avoid arousal, especially in the locker room, fearing judgment. But now, with all of us erect and openly aroused, it didn’t matter. I watched Ethan’s exam, feeling a strange thrill. Glancing at Kyle, his massive, erect penis angled upward. Tom, to my right, was in the same state. We were all visibly affected, and there was no hiding it.

Soon, Ethan finished and rejoined us. “Gentlemen,” Dr. Zella announced, “your exams are complete. You may now get dressed.”

We all immediately put our hands down and began to get dressed again in our P.E. outfits. At first it was difficult to get our jockstraps on because of our erections, but we all managed somehow. And once we started to get dressed, our erections started to subside, at least a little bit. Dr. Zella was washing her hands and cleaning up the exam room. Rose was helping her tidy up and also watching us as we got dressed.

Just then Nurse Bobby entered the room again. “Since we ran a little late, you’ve missed the start of your next class,” he said. “So I wrote each of you a tardy excuse. You can give this to your next teacher so there shouldn’t be a problem.” As soon as we were all dressed, we began to walk out of the exam room.

“Thank you for your cooperation, gentlemen,” Nurse Bobby called after us.

We quickly dropped our hands from behind our heads and began pulling on our clothes. Our erections made it tricky to slip back into our underwear, but we managed, and as we dressed, the arousal began to fade slightly. Dr. Zella was at the sink, washing her hands and straightening up the exam room, while Rose assisted, her eyes occasionally darting toward us as we clothed ourselves.

As we finished dressing, we started heading out of the exam room. Before I could leave, Nurse Bobby motioned to me. “Eric, a moment, please.” I paused, turning back as the others exited. “You’ve been randomly selected to participate in a research program. Could you provide your email address? The program coordinator will send you details.”

Curious, I asked, “What’s the research about?”

Nurse Bobby gave a small, enigmatic smile. “It’s an interesting study, but I can’t share much now. You’ll hear more soon.” His vague response left me intrigued yet uneasy as I jotted down my email and joined the others.

 

[Sexy123789]

Now Tom and Ethan have had their aroused genitals exposed, poked and prodded.

The guys are dropping like flies. Only three have managed to maintain some modesty. I wonder how long that will last?

 

[liittlefiish]

As we made our way back from the university’s Physical Education and Recreation Center, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the campus, and the humidity made my clothes cling uncomfortably. The medical exams for freshmen had left us all feeling exposed and raw, and the walk back to our dorm flat on the third floor was quiet, each of us lost in thought. I was still reeling from the invasive check-up—standing naked in front of Dr. Zella, Nurse Bobby, and Rose had been humiliating, especially with my bikini briefs long discarded. Kyle and Tom had worn jockstraps, as required for P.E. classes, but Ethan, like me, had been in briefs, his embarrassment palpable during the exam when he’d been called out for his lower Tanner stage.

“Man, I feel gross after that,” Kyle said, breaking the silence as we climbed the stairs to our flat. His dark green P.E. T-shirt was still damp from the day’s heat, and the thin white cotton gym shorts—standard Uni P.E. uniform with the school emblem on the lower left—clung to his muscular thighs, the outline of his jockstrap faintly visible. “Those exams were intense. I’m hitting the shower. You in, Tom?”

“Yeah, I need to wash off that whole ordeal,” Tom, walking beside us, chuckled. “Those shorts are brutal. You can see everything when they’re wet. My jock’s from my high school rugby days—fits snug, but damn, it’s like we’re on display out there.” Our uniform was standard: dark green T-shirt, white cotton shorts, white tube socks, non-marking sneakers—and only a jockstrap allowed underneath. Coach didn’t mince words: ‘The shorts are thin for a reason—I’ll know if you’re not wearing one. It’s tradition, and it’s practical. The fact the girls enjoy the view? That’s just extra.’ Even now, I still blush remembering the way he smirked when he said it. Clearly he felt he had things to show off when he was in P.E.”

Kyle nodded. “Got mine from my old gym. Coach said jockstraps are best for support, but these shorts? Might as well be naked. Ethan, have you got one yet?”

Ethan, trailing behind, shook his head, his face flushing. “Uh, no. I just had my briefs today. Didn’t know about the jockstrap rule until the exam.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Mate, you can’t wear briefs for P.E. The coach will fail you on the spot. Those shorts show everything. Wanna try mine?”

Ethan’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “I… I don’t think it’d fit.” His tone suggested he meant it’d be too big, but the words came out wrong.

Tom burst out laughing. “We all saw each other during the exam. Maybe the balls won’t fill it in, but your meat is bigger than mine and Eric’s. Give yourself some credit, Ethan! I Bet it fits. Let’s test it when we get to the flat. You gotta get used to wearing one.”

I couldn’t help but smile at Ethan’s embarrassment, though I felt for him. Could have done without Tom’s comment about my cock, but he admitted we were the same size and shorter than Ethan when hard, so at least he was being fair.

Back home, my mom always bought my briefs, and switching to a jockstrap for P.E. had felt like a leap into a new, exposing world. But this was university, and I was determined to be the confident Eric I’d promised myself to become.

“Shower time,” Kyle announced, peeling off his T-shirt and tossing it onto a bench. He kicked off his gym shoes, socks, and shorts, then slid off his jockstrap, leaving himself completely naked. His confidence was unshakable as he strode to a shower pole and turned on the water, steam rising almost instantly. Once again…those muscular ass globes moved so slightly before me. I licked my lips. He had no hair, perfectly smooth, pale skin, not a blemish on those hard mounds. I promised one day I would have it. I thought “I know I am straight but something about muscular buttcheeks and dominating a fella…it is kind of hot.”

I hesitated, then stripped off my own uniform. My cock was still semi-hard from the day’s tension, bobbing slightly as I walked to join Kyle.

“Hey, guys!” I called down the hall to Tom and Ethan. “We’re showering if you wanna join.”

“Be right there,” Tom shouted back.

“Uh, sure,” Ethan added, his voice hesitant.

Kyle and I stood under the same shower pole, facing each other as the warm water cascaded over us, washing away the sweat and lingering shame of the exam. The steam filled the room, blurring the edges of everything. Tom and Ethan soon appeared, both naked now. Tom’s lean, muscular frame glistened under the water, his jockstrap discarded, while Ethan’s softer body looked more vulnerable, his sparse pubic hair barely noticeable. He’d been wearing briefs during the exam, not a jockstrap, and I could tell he was still self-conscious about it. His cock looked smaller than in the exam, being flaccid, but we all knew he was a grower.

We grabbed soap from the wall dispenser, lathering up in the humid haze. My semi-hard state lingered, and a quick glance showed the others were in a similar boat. Kyle, ever bold, took a handful of soap, worked it into a lather, and started washing his cock and balls with both hands. His movements were slow at first, but they quickly turned into stroking, his right hand sliding along his thick, veiny shaft while his left fondled his heavy balls. All 6.75 inches of his fat cock were hard as a rock and he did not care who saw it. He wanted us to see it! The sight sent a jolt through me, my own arousal spiking.

Feeling the heat, I grabbed more soap and lathered my own cock and balls, my hand gliding along my 5.5-inch shaft as it hardened fully. The slick soap intensified every sensation, my thumb brushing the sensitive tip. Tom joined in, his soapy hands working his own 5.5 inch cock, his lean frame tensing with each stroke. Ethan, though, stood frozen, his 6-inch erection curving upward but his hands still at his sides, clutching a bar of soap.

“What’s up, Ethan?” Kyle teased, his hand still moving on his massive cock. “Not feeling it? You have a decent cock on yah. Bigger than those two. Enjoy yourself and show it off!”

“Uh, no, I’m okay,” Ethan mumbled, his cheeks red.

“Come on, mate,” Tom said, grinning. “We’re all wound up after that exam. Gotta let it out.” Before Ethan could respond, Tom grabbed more soap and stepped behind him, rubbing the lather into Ethan’s back. “Feels good, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ethan said, his voice softening. I could tell he enjoyed the touch of another person.

I moved closer, my hands sliding over Ethan’s hairless chest, feeling the smooth skin under my fingers. I could not resist, because of his weight, his chest was large from extra fat. His nipples the largest I had seen on a man. I grabbed each of his man tits and squeezed and massaged the soap around them, then pinched his big nipples. Ethan gave a soft moan.

I looked over at Kyle and he smirked. He was a funny one, he liked what I was doing to help our friend out.

I let my right hand drift lower, just above his groin. “How’s this?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

“Good,” Ethan admitted, his eyes half-closed.

“Then this’ll be better,” I said, my right hand sliding down to cup his hairless balls while my left encircled his hard cock. I started stroking him slowly, feeling his shaft pulse under my grip. Ethan let out another soft moan, his body relaxing into the sensation.

Tom, still behind Ethan, moved his hands lower, one rubbing Ethan’s huge, fat, and round ass cheeks while the other stroked his own cock. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” I asked again.

“Sure does,” Ethan murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. Hesitantly, he reached out, wrapping both of his soapy hands around my cock. He started stroking me, his movements tentative but growing bolder, the soap making every touch slick and intense. “He is getting into this!” I thought.

I glanced at Kyle, who was watching us with a smirk, content to stroke his massive cock and fondle his balls without joining in. Ethan and I kept going, our hands moving in sync, while Tom’s fingers slid further down Ethan’s deep and tight ass crack. Ethan spread his legs slightly and leaned forward, giving Tom better access. Tom slipped a soapy finger into Ethan’s tight, virgin hole, moving slowly.

“Oh, man!,” Ethan gasped, his body tensing.

“You like that, huh?” Tom teased, his voice low as he worked his finger deeper. “Who knew that Tom was so kinky?” I wondered

Ethan’s body shuddered, and within seconds, his cock pulsed in my hand, releasing short spurts of cum from his less developed testes, the fluid and sperm within it mingled with the soap and water. He kept stroking me, though, and moments later, I hit my peak, shooting thicker, more voluminous waves of hot cum shooting across his hands, my thighs trembling. We turned to watch Tom and Kyle, who were still going. Tom came first, his body tensing as he groaned, Tom did not produce quite as much cum as I did, I noted. The last was Kyle, whose massive ropes of thick, white semen shot across the tiles. With his larger, heavy testicles, bigger than than us all, producing countless more sperm; he clearly won the silent shooting contest. I was pleased I came in second and smiled.

Spent, we grabbed more soap and cleaned ourselves up, the tension of the exam finally washed away. My cock was limp now, my balls loose and depleted as the warm water rinsed me clean. We finished showering, dried off, and dressed in silence, the weight of the moment settling in. As we headed back to our rooms, Tom caught Ethan’s eye. “So, about that jockstrap—gonna get one from McCalister’s tomorrow?”

Ethan nodded, a shy smile breaking through. “Yeah, guess I’d better. Don’t want Coach calling me out.”

Tom laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Welcome to uni, mate. No hiding anything here.”

 

[liittlefiish]

Shopping for Sports Gear​

Today, a new challenge loomed: our first official sports team meeting, where the coach had made it clear we needed proper uniforms by next week’s practice.Tom and Kyle were already boasting about their purchases yesterday and I saw they wore them.

“Yo, Eric,” Ethan said, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “I’m heading to the sports shop in town to grab my kit. Wanna come? Figure we can both knock it out before Coach benches us.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, “My bank balance was already screaming after buying those embarrassing bikini briefs—now I had to shell out for a sports uniform too.”

We headed to the city’s main shopping district, a vibrant strip lined with trendy stores and cafes. Our destination was The sports shop known for carrying top brands like Nike, Under Armour, Adidas, and Bike. The store’s glass storefront gleamed under the midday sun, its bold red-and-black logo beckoning athletes and wannabes alike. Inside, the space was a haven for sports enthusiasts: polished concrete floors stretched wide, reflecting the glow of overhead LED lights. Racks of gym shorts, compression tights, and moisture-wicking tees lined the walls, organized by brand and sport. A dedicated swimwear section showcased Speedo and Arena suits in vibrant colors, while shelves of sneakers—Nike Air Zooms, Adidas Ultraboosts—towered near the back. The air smelled faintly of new fabric and rubber, with upbeat pop music pulsing softly through hidden speakers.

Shopping for clothes, especially underwear, was uncharted territory for me. Back home, my mom handled all that, tossing briefs into the cart without a second thought. Now, standing in this high-end store with Tom and Ethan, I felt exposed, like everyone could see my inexperience. Tom, with his easy confidence and lean, ripped frame, strode ahead, already eyeing a display of Under Armour gym bags. Ethan, hovering near me, seemed just as uneasy, his eyes darting around as if overwhelmed by the sheer volume of gear.

I made a beeline for the men’s underwear section, tucked in a corner near the back. The display was a riot of color and style: Nike boxer briefs in bold blacks and blues, Bike jockstraps in crisp white and neon accents, and Under Armour trunks with sleek, modern cuts. Jockstraps, in particular, caught my eye—brands like Bike and Gym hung neatly on plastic hangers, their elastic straps and supportive pouches promising both function and a certain daring appeal. I’d never worn one before, but with gym class looming and my student budget screaming, I figured it was time to try. I scanned for size S, knowing it fit my 5’6”, 160-pound frame perfectly, toned from years of swimming. The thought of buying something so intimate in public sent a thrill through me, tinged with embarrassment. My cock stirred slightly in my jeans, a 3-inch soft bulge that I prayed wouldn’t grow noticeable.

Ethan lingered nearby, pretending to browse a rack of Adidas shorts but clearly watching me. “You getting those for gym class?” he asked, his voice low, like he was testing the waters.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, grabbing a pair of white Bike jockstraps in size medium. “Need something for PE. You?”

He shrugged, his chubby cheeks flushing. “Same. I forgot to pack workout stuff too. Figure I’ll just grab whatever you’re getting. You seem to know your size.” His admission made me feel a bit less alone in my awkwardness, though his deference to my choices surprised me.

As I clutched the jockstrap, a sales associate approached—a woman in her late thirties named Jane, her name tag pinned to a fitted Nike polo that hugged her slim figure and ample bust. Her blonde hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, and her smile was warm but professional. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” she asked, her eyes flicking to the jockstrap in my hand.

My face burned. “Just, uh, looking for gym stuff,” I stammered, holding the jockstrap in front of my jeans to hide the slight bulge forming there. I could feel my 6-inch hard-on threatening to strain against my bikini briefs—another humiliating purchase from earlier that day.

Jane’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “First time shopping for PE gear? Don’t worry, we’ve got everything you need. Those Bike jockstraps are great for support. Size small or medium, right? Want to try them on to make sure?”

My heart raced at the thought of trying on a jockstrap in a store. “Uh, yeah, I think so,” I managed, glancing at Ethan, who looked equally mortified but nodded along.

“Here we are. Excuse me dear”, she said looking at me. “I need to get a waist measurement for you.”
She took the tape measure from around her neck and reached around my waist and pulled it snug.

“Hmmm, 32 inches, that should be a medium. Although maybe I should make allowance for this”, she said brushing my erection.”

“You are just going to have to try it on”, she removed PE uniform with Jocktraps from the display. “The dressing room is over here.”

Nearby, another customer—a woman, maybe in her early forties, with a sharp bob and a confident air—browsed a display of women’s leggings. She caught my eye, offering a subtle smile that made me wonder if she was watching us. Her presence added to my nerves; the store felt too open, too public for this.
Jane led us to the fitting rooms, a row of small cubicles with black curtains near the back, just past a display of Speedo swim briefs. The fitting area was quieter, the music muffled, but the bright lights made it feel like a stage. “Here you go,” Jane said, gesturing to a cubicle. “Let me know if you need another size.” She stepped back, but I noticed her and a woman lingering near a rack of compression shorts, their heads tilted slightly as if keeping an eye on the fitting rooms.

I slipped inside, leaving the curtain slightly ajar in my haste. My hands shook as I kicked off my sneakers and unbuttoned my jeans, letting them drop to the floor. My bikini briefs clung to my hips, the thin fabric barely containing my growing erection. I stripped them off, my 5.5 inch cock springing free, veiny and throbbing with the thrill of what I was doing. The cool air hit my balls, making them tighten slightly. I stepped into the Bike jockstrap, pulling the elastic straps up my thighs. The pouch cradled my package snugly, the straps framing my toned ass cheeks, which flexed as I adjusted the fit. In the mirror, I saw my reflection: my lean, muscular frame, straight black hair falling over my pale-brown eyes, and the jockstrap accentuating every curve of my groin. My cock pressed against the fabric, the outline clear, and I felt a rush of both shame and excitement.

Outside, I heard a soft rustle. Glancing through the curtain’s gap, I caught Jane peeking from behind the rack, her eyes fixed on me. I quickly pulled on a pair of Nike gym shorts and a reversible two-toned T-shirt in my school colors, the loose fit hiding the jockstrap’s bulge but not my racing pulse.

Stepping out, I faced Ethan, who was waiting his turn. “How’s it fit?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Snug, but it works. You gonna try one?”
Ethan hesitated, glancing at Jane, who were now pretending to organize a display but still stealing glances.

“Nah, I’ll just get the same size as you,” he said, grabbing a matching Bike jockstrap in medium. “If it fits you, it’ll fit me.”

Jane approached, her smile encouraging. “Looks like you found what you need. Those jockstraps are perfect for PE—great support. Want me to ring you up?”

I nodded, my cheeks still warm as I handed her the jockstrap and gym clothes. Ethan added his jockstrap to the pile, avoiding eye contact while Jane scanned our items.

As we left, Tom rejoined us, his arms full of dorm decor. “You guys get your gear?” he asked, oblivious to the charged moment we’d just endured.

 

[Lukew1988]

Surely I’m not the only one who is getting lost and confused with the jumping around person to person with no warning.

 

[Sexy123789]

Surely I’m not the only one who is getting lost and confused with the jumping around person to person with no warning.

Not sure what you mean, Luke.

Like first person to third person?

Eric is in every story and the central focus. Only one he takes a break is Alex and Jacob’s exam.

Eric is at Uni with tons of other students, coaches, and professors. He has a pod of 7 other young men. They come and go about their schedules.

I like the way Fish is handling it. This would have been so boring if it was a stand-alone story that ended in a group circle jerk. I like the slow and deliberate exposure of each character’s nude body, revealing his endowment and how it compares to his peers.

I also love that the characters appear to have some balance and realism on cock sizes. Alex is the biggest at 7.5 inches. Even “big” Kyle is 6.75 inches. No nine inch cocks, or several donkey cocks flopping all over the place. These are regular, if hot guys with a range of cocks and builds and interests and personalities. Also love the mention of ball sizes. Balls are totally under-appreciated in erotica or they are ludicrous “baseball sized balls.”

I am just excited to see what Haoyu, Liam, and Jacob are packing. Maybe Bobby? We have seen him twice and he grabbed Eric’s erection. I think he needs to be exposed, too.

Alex mentioned brothers and being naked around them all the time. I am wondering if the big cock gene runs in the family. Hopefully, Fish lets a brother or two appear in the story to visit Alex.

Lots of fun and promise

 

[liittlefiish]

(Continue the story: Shopping for Sports Gear)

“Yo, Eric, heard you and Ethan hit up the sports shop today. Did you actually grab a jockstrap for PE, or are you still rocking those bikini briefs?” Alex teased, sprawled across the top bunk, his party-animal vibe in full swing as he dangled his legs over the edge.

“Yeah, I got one,” I mumbled, pulling the jockstrap from its packaging. The elastic straps hung loosely in my hands. “Ethan got the same Bike’s brand. Coach’s orders—no briefs allowed in PE.”

“Nice, mate! Bet you’ve never worn one before. Come on, let’s see it—try it on. Gotta make sure you’re ready for Coach’s inspection.”

“Alright, fine,” I said, hesitating. The thought of stripping in front of Alex, my confident roommate, stirred memories of the medical exam’s raw exposure. But this was the new Eric—bold, fearless. I kicked off my sneakers and unbuttoned my jeans, letting them pool at my ankles. My bikini briefs, tight and slightly worn from the day, clung to my hips, outlining my 3-inch soft cock and average-sized balls. Glancing at Alex, who watched with a grin, I slid the briefs down, my cock springing free, semi-hard from the nervous thrill. I stepped into the jockstrap, pulling the straps up my toned thighs. The pouch hugged my package snugly, cradling my balls and accentuating the slight bulge of my cock, while the straps framed my tight, muscular ass cheeks, leaving them bare. I turned to the mirror, catching my reflection—the jockstrap emphasized every curve of my groin. My cock twitched, pressing against the fabric, the outline clear as it thickened to a near 5.5 inch hard-on.

“So, uh, what do you think?” I asked, turning to Alex.

“Damn, mate, that fits like a glove. Shows off the goods, doesn’t it?” He smirked. “Turn around—let’s see the back.”

I obliged, feeling the cool air on my bare ass as I faced away.

“Yeah, that’s gonna turn heads in PE. The straps make your ass pop, and that pouch? No hiding what you’re packing. How’s it feel? Snug enough for all that running Coach’ll have us doing?” Alex laughed, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s… tight, but good,” I admitted. “Feels weird having my ass out like this, but it’s supportive. Holds everything in place.”

“That’s the point, mate. Jockstraps are all about support and showing off. You’re gonna kill it in PE—just don’t let Coach catch you blushing like that.” He paused, his tone softening. “Seriously, though, you look good. Ethan gets the same one?”

“Yeah, he got the same, but he didn’t try it on at the store. Just copied my size. He was nervous as hell.”

As I moved to slip out of the jockstrap and back into my shorts, Alex’s hands roamed over me. His left hand pinched my nipples before sliding down to my pubes. “Nice boy bush you’ve got there,” he said with a grin.

“Hmm, I think that bush has gotta go.”

“Huh? What, bro?” I asked, both alarmed and turned on by the idea.

“I’m shaving your pubes off. Hell, we’ll clean you up front and back, including that ass.”

I blushed, my dick twitching at the thought, but I was nervous. “Wait, you shave everything? Like, completely?” My hand instinctively brushed over my pubes through the jockstrap’s pouch. The idea of going fully bare, like Alex, felt like another leap into boldness.

“Yup, front and back, mate. Clean as a whistle. My swim coach says it’s practical—less drag, better times. But let’s be real, it’s a power move. You walk out in a Speedo with no bush, and everyone knows you’re serious. Wanna borrow my razor? I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“I dunno, man. Won’t the guys in PE notice? I mean, the showers are open, and…”

“So what? Tell ‘em it’s for swimming, like me. Or say you got crabs from some hot chick and had to shave for hygiene,” Alex chuckled, unconcerned. “Trust me, no one’s gonna mess with you when you’re rocking a Speedo like a pro. Besides, you’re already halfway there with that trim job.” He nodded toward my groin.

“Feels weird just thinking about it,” I admitted, glancing at the mirror. The jockstrap hugged my package tightly, the outline of my semi-hard cock clear under my gym shorts. “Does it… feel different? You know, in the Speedo?”

“The Speedo’s tight as hell, but with no hair, it’s just you and the suit. Every muscle shows, and you feel like you’re flying in the water. Plus, it’s one less thing to worry about when changing in front of the team. You’ll see, Eric—give it a shot. New uni, new you, right?” His hand rubbed up and down my back, just above my ass. “Let’s hit the bathroom and get you shaved.”

I nodded, my nerves tingling as we headed to the bathroom together. I felt like a kid again, like little Eric being led to the potty by Mom.

The dorm’s communal bathroom was quiet that evening, the fluorescent lights buzzing softly as I stood by the sink, heart pounding. My stomach churned with nerves, but I couldn’t back out now—not with Alex’s infectious energy pushing me forward. The cold tiles under my bare feet sent a shiver up my spine. I’d stripped down to my white Bike jockstrap, the pouch snug against my cock and balls.

Alex, shirtless in his black Speedo, his lean, smooth body glistening under the lights, smirked at me. “Nice bush, mate,” he said, shaking a can of shaving cream. “But it’s gotta go if you’re gonna rock a Speedo like me. Or that jockstrap, for that matter.”

“You sure about this?” I asked, my voice shaky as I eyed the razor in his hand.

Alex lathered me up, then carefully started shaving my pubes with a safety razor. My dick twitched wildly, betraying my nerves. Alex noticed, grinning. “That’s much better. Now turn around and grab your ankles—it’s time to shave that butthole.” He pointed at my bare ass cheeks. “Your hole will practically be on display in jockstraps. One stray hair, and the lads in PE’ll never let you live it down.” His playful tone still made my face burn.

I turned, gripping the sink’s edge as Alex knelt behind me. “Alright, spread your legs a bit,” he said, his voice light but focused. I complied, the cool air hitting my exposed ass. “Now for the fun part,” Alex teased, his grin audible. I felt a dollop of shaving cream spread across my ass crack, his fingers grazing my hole, sending a jolt through me. “Relax, Eric, it’s just a quick cleanup.”

The razor’s gentle scrape against my sensitive skin made me tense. Alex was careful, wiping the blade clean between strokes, his free hand steadying my cheek. “Gotta make sure it’s all smooth back here,” he teased. “Jockstraps don’t hide shit, and you don’t want Coach spotting a jungle when you’re sprinting in those shorts.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, following his lead. Alex finished shaving my butthole, then had me raise my arms to shave my underarms, which didn’t take long since I had little body hair at eighteen.

“There, how’s that feeling?” Alex asked, stepping back.

I had to admit, I felt like a million bucks. The shaving was way better than I’d imagined, and Alex could tell I was into it. “Go check yourself out in the mirror. You look a couple years younger now, Eric.”

I did, and I was amazed. My pubes were gone, my dick still rock-hard, and he’d even shaved the sparse hair on my balls. My toned thighs and smooth groin looked incredible, my ass cheeks tight and hairless. “Thanks, Alex. It actually feels really good.”

“Glad you think so. Now hop in the shower, clean up, and towel off.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, watching him leave as I headed for the shower.

 

[liittlefiish]

Humiliation in the Gym class​

Anyway, Gym class (or Physical Education as it is now called) was a required course. There was no getting out of it. We had to dress out for the gym in a special athletic uniform. We did the usual stuff like exercising, running track, lifting weights and of course the occasional basketball scrimmage. We were also required to take a mandatory shower after class was over.

I was pretty modest about the shower part and usually waited until most boys had finished theirs before taking mine. Showers were done at a community shower room that was part of the locker room. In it, there were 4 shower poles each with three showerheads. There was no privacy about any of this and sooner or later most boys just stripped off after class and walked around naked either before or soon after washing off. Everyone except me that is. I was too embarrassed to be seen naked by the guys.

My towel routine wasn’t as subtle as I thought. The bully types—guys like Michael, the meanest kid in class—picked up on it. One Friday, with gym class wrapping up the school day, I was lingering as usual, my green towel snug around my waist. I stripped carefully, making sure no one saw my hairless cock or small balls, and busied myself at my locker, pretending to organize my bag. The locker room emptied out, and I headed to the showers, thinking I was in the clear.

Big mistake. As I stepped into the shower area, hands grabbed me from behind. My arms were yanked back, pinned tight by one of Michael’s cronies. “Well, well, well,” Michael sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “What’s so special about you, parading around in that fancy green towel? School towels are not good enough for ya?” His eyes raked over me, sizing me up as his buddies held me firm.

“Let me go!” I shouted, thrashing against their grip. It was useless—they were stronger, bigger, and I was trapped

Michael’s grin turned wicked. “I think he’s proud of that towel. Don’t you, boys?” His crew nodded, chuckling. “Maybe he wants to show it off around campus.” Before I could process his words, they dragged me backward toward the locker room door, my towel slipping slightly with each step.

“No! Please, stop!” I begged, my voice cracking. Their laughter only grew louder.

One of the boys grabbed something from his locker—athletic tape, I realized later—and rejoined the group. They pulled me into the public hallway, mercifully empty since school was over. My bare feet slapped against the cold floor as they hauled me into the main gym, shoving me against the support rails of a bleacher. Michael barked, “Give me that tape!” and forced my hands above my head. I struggled, almost breaking free, but he was too strong. He wrapped the tape around my wrists, binding them to the rail, leaving me helpless, clad only in my green towel. My cock stirred traitorously, the fear and exposure mixing into a humiliating thrill, my balls tightening against my body.

“Help me!” I screamed, instantly regretting it. Michael ripped off another strip of tape and slapped it over my mouth, muffling my cries. I stood there, heart racing, my toned chest heaving, the towel barely clinging to my hips.

A couple of girls shooting hoops across the gym heard the noise and wandered over, their sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. “What’s going on?” one asked, giggling as she took in the scene.

“Eric here loves his green towel so much, he wanted to show it off.” Michael smirked. The girls laughed, one pointing at my flushed face. “His face is almost as red as his ass!” she said, making everyone howl.

My cheeks burned hotter, my 3-inch cock now half-hard under the towel, the fabric brushing against it with every squirm. I twisted against the tape, desperate to escape, but that was a mistake. The towel started to loosen, the knot slipping. I froze, my heart hammering as the gym fell silent. Everyone’s eyes locked on the towel, watching it creep lower, exposing my flat abdomen, then my belly button. Inch by inch, it slid down, revealing the smooth, hairless skin above my groin. My muffled screams were useless under the tape. The girls’ eyes widened, one practically vibrating with excitement. My cock, now fully hard at 5.5 inches, throbbed against the fabric, the tip leaking slightly, dampening the towel. I pressed my ass against the rails, trying to pin the towel in place, but it was no use.

Then it happened. The towel gave way, sliding to the floor in one swift motion. My 5.5 cock sprang free, standing rigid, the veiny shaft glistening slightly from the precum at the tip. My balls, small and tight, hung exposed, completely hairless, making me look younger than my age. The cool air hit my groin, sending a shiver through me as my erection bobbed in front of everyone. The girls gasped, then giggled; Michael and his crew roared with laughter. I wanted to disappear, my face burning as I stood naked, taped to the bleacher, my cock and balls on full display for all to see.

"Oh my God! He's buck naked!" a girl shrieked, her hand flying to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. Michael doubled over, laughing so hard tears streamed down his cheeks, his voice hoarse from cackling. The other boys were just as bad, guffawing and smacking each other’s backs like they’d pulled off the prank of the century.

My face burned, the humiliation searing through me like a wildfire. With my lean, swimmer’s build and smooth, hairless skin, I felt exposed in a way I’d never imagined. I’d been dreading the locker room, terrified of the other guys seeing my 3-inch soft cock, but this? Being mocked by a gaggle of girls from my school was a nightmare I couldn’t wake from.

It got worse. Another girl, smirking, pointed right at my crotch. "No pubes! He’s like my little brother!" Her words hit like a slap, and the crowd’s laughter roared louder. My cheeks flushed hotter, my pale-brown eyes darting for an escape that wasn’t there. Now, taped to the bleachers, I was the center of attention in the worst way.

One girl, bold as hell, sauntered over and slung her arm around my waist, striking a pose like we were some twisted prom couple. "Aren’t we just the cutest little pair?" she teased, her voice dripping with mockery as she emphasized little. Her touch sent a shiver through me, her fingers grazing my bare hip. I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. The others chimed in with crude comments about her “taste in men,” their words laced with innuendo. The mix of their taunts and her warm skin against mine was too much. My body betrayed me—my cock twitched, stirring to life despite my horror. At eighteen, it was pencil-thick and 4 inches when haft-hard, pointing straight up like a damn flagpole. There was no hiding it. The girl beside me glanced down, her lips curling into a smirk. "Didn’t know boys your age had dicks that tiny! Wait till I tell my friends!"

A loud bang echoed from the far end of the gym, like a door slamming shut. Panic rippled through the group—fear of getting caught. The girls scattered, giggling, while Michael grabbed my towel off the floor. "Later, little buddy," he sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. "Snitch on me, and I’ll fuck you up, got it?" He bolted, leaving me stark naked, still taped to the bleachers, my heart pounding like a drum.

I yanked at the tape, my wrists burning as I fought to free myself. I didn’t care what caused that noise—I just wanted out. Finally, the tape loosened, and I ripped it off my hands, wincing as it tore at my skin. I clawed the tape from my mouth just as Mrs. Patterson, the girls’ volleyball coach, rounded the corner, her stern gaze locking onto me.

"Some guys dragged me in here and taped me up! I swear I didn’t do anything!" My voice cracked, high and desperate, as I stood there, my erection still embarrassingly obvious. Mrs. Patterson’s eyes narrowed, flicking down to my hard-on before meeting my gaze again. "Right. You knew the girls had volleyball practice here on Fridays, didn’t you?" Her tone was sharp, skeptical.

"No, I swear! Look at the tape!" I gestured frantically at the bleacher railings, where strips of duct tape still clung. She glanced up, her expression softening slightly, but doubt lingered in her eyes.

"Alright, young man. Name, and explain why you’re naked in my gym." I hung my head, muttering my name—Eric—and repeating my story, my voice trembling. She crossed her arms. "You’re in deep trouble. Don’t lie to me. I want the truth, now!"

"It’s the truth!" I pleaded, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. She sighed, clearly unconvinced but pressing on. "Fine. Who were these boys?"

Michael’s threat echoed in my mind—I’ll beat the shit out of you. "I… I don’t know them," I lied, my voice barely a whisper. "They ran off. You might catch them if you hurry."

She stared at me for a long moment, then nodded curtly. "Stay right there. Don’t move." She turned and disappeared to check the gym.

As soon as she left, a girl appeared at the glass window of the gym’s side door, her eyes gleaming with amusement. I instinctively cupped my hands over my groin, my cock still half-hard, which only made her giggle silently. She didn’t even pretend to look away, just stared, occasionally waving teasingly. I caught her lips moving: "Move your hands, let me see!" My face burned crimson, and I turned away, but that only exposed my bare ass to her view. The humiliation was suffocating. A tapping on the glass started, persistent and mocking. I ignored it, my anger rising. I’d had enough. I spun around, ready to tell she off, only to freeze—four girls in volleyball uniforms stood at the window, grinning like they’d won the lottery. How long had they been gawking at my naked body?

Mrs. Patterson returned, her face grim. "No boys out there. I’m choosing to believe your story this once, Eric, but if I catch you like this again, you’re done." Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of pity in her eyes.

"Thank you," I mumbled, my voice small. "Can I get my clothes from the boys’ locker room now?"

She blinked, then frowned. "Everything’s locked up, Eric. I only have keys to the girls’ locker room and the main gym doors. You’re out of luck."

My stomach dropped. "I can’t go home like this!" I protested, my voice rising in panic.

"No, you can’t," she agreed, her brow furrowing as she thought. Just then, the girl poked her head through the open door. "I overheard," she said, her tone falsely sweet. "I’ve got a T-shirt he can borrow if it helps?"

Relief flooded me. "That’d be great," Mrs. Patterson said. The girl scampered off, returning moments later with a T-shirt. She tossed it to me with a smirk and waved goodbye. I yanked it on, the fabric barely long enough to cover my groin, my balls and the tip of my cock grazing the hem. It was something, at least. Clutching the shirt, I bolted for the dorm, praying no one else would see me.

 

[liittlefiish]

Humiliation in the Gym class - Part 2​

Gym class on Tuesdays always hit right after lunch, and I was dreading it as I walked onto the field, my stomach still churning from the dining hall’s lukewarm curry. The white cotton gym shorts Coach insisted we wear felt flimsier than ever, the thin fabric clinging to my thighs and barely hiding the outline of my new Bike jockstrap. My dark green P.E. The T-shirt was already sticking to my back from the humid Southeast Asian heat. As I stepped onto the grass, I spotted Michael, the ringleader of the group that had been making my life hell since the semester started. He was taller than me, probably 5’9”, with a cocky grin and a lean, athletic frame that screamed trouble. His gym shorts hugged his hips, the bulge of his jockstrap obvious as he strutted over, flanked by his posse—three other guys from our P.E. class who followed him like loyal dogs. Their eyes locked onto me, and my heart sank. I knew that look. It was the same one they had last week when they cornered me in the locker room, calling me “Towel Boy” after I’d fumbled my towel and flashed half the team.

“So, Towel Boy,” Michael sneered, his voice dripping with mockery as he closed the distance. “Did you squeal on us to Coach about last week’s little… incident?” His crew circled me, their sneakers crunching on the grass. I could feel their eyes sizing me up, my face burning as I remembered how they’d laughed when my towel slipped, exposing my 3-inch soft cock and neatly trimmed bush to the whole locker room.

I shook my head quickly, my throat tight. “No, I didn’t say anything,” I mumbled, avoiding his gaze

“Good!” Michael barked, stepping closer. “’Cause if you had, you’d be dead meat by now. Did you enjoy your little exposure in the gym?” His smirk widened, and his buddies snickered, their eyes glinting with malice.

I shook my head again, my voice barely a whisper. “No. Please, just leave me alone.” My hands fidgeted at my sides, itching to tug my shorts down to hide the faint outline of my jockstrap’s pouch, which felt way too snug against my balls.

Michael’s grin turned predatory. He grabbed the front of my T-shirt, yanking me forward so hard I stumbled. “You’d better remember who’s in charge here, Towel Boy,” he hissed, his breath hot against my face. “We’re gonna leave you with a little reminder so you know we can do whatever the fuck we want to you. And if you squeal, you’re done. Got it?” Before I could respond, he turned to his crew. “Alright, boys—pants him!”

My heart stopped. I tried to bolt, my sneakers slipping on the grass, but hands grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms. In one swift motion, someone yanked down my elastic-waistband shorts, the thin cotton sliding to my ankles. Another tug, and my jockstrap was ripped clean off. The elastic straps snapped against my thighs, stinging as they tore away. I stood there, frozen, on the open field, wearing nothing but my green T-shirt, which barely reached my hips. My 3-inch cock hung limp, my balls dangling exposed, the cool air hitting them and making them tighten in shame. My trimmed pubes, shaved down to a neat patch thanks to Alex’s “grooming session” last week, did nothing to hide my exposure. If anything, the lack of hair made my cock look even more vulnerable, every vein visible under the sunlight.

Michael laughed, snatching my shorts and jockstrap from the ground. “Nice package, Towel Boy,” he taunted, tossing them to one of his buddies. The guy sprinted toward the 10-foot chain-link fence surrounding the field and hurled my clothes over it with a mocking cheer. They landed in a heap on the other side, far out of reach. The group took off, laughing as they rejoined the class for laps, leaving me stranded in the middle of the field, my hands frantically tugging my T-shirt down to cover my groin. It was useless—the shirt barely reached my upper thighs, and every movement made my cock and balls jiggle, threatening to flash anyone who looked my way. My face burned crimson, my heart pounding as I realized I couldn’t climb the fence to get my clothes. I was stuck, half-naked, in the middle of P.E. class.

At least it was just us guys out here, I thought, trying to calm my racing pulse. The girls were still inside the gym, probably doing their own drills. I shuffled toward the infield, keeping my shirt stretched over my cock, my bare ass cheeks clenching with every step. The grass tickled my exposed skin, adding to my humiliation.

Then, to my absolute horror, the gym doors swung open, and out came the girls’ P.E. class, led by Coach Patterson. My stomach dropped as they headed straight for the track that circled the infield where I stood. The coach, a stern woman in her forties, didn’t even glance my way, but the girls—freshmen like me, all in their matching green T-shirts and white shorts—were jogging closer with every second. I froze, my hands gripping my shirt tighter, my knuckles white. My cock twitched nervously, half-hard from the sheer panic, pressing against the thin fabric of my shirt.

The first group of girls jogged past, their ponytails bouncing as they focused on their laps. They didn’t seem to notice me, and I let out a shaky breath, hoping I’d gotten lucky. The second group passed just as quickly, their eyes fixed ahead. Maybe I’d make it through this, I thought, my heart still hammering.

But then the third group came around. One girl, a brunette with a sly smile, leaned close to another and whispered something, her eyes flicking toward me. My blood ran cold. They’d spotted me. The second girl, a redhead with freckles, glanced over, her eyes widening as they locked onto my barely covered groin. I was mortified, my face so hot I thought I’d pass out. These were my classmates—freshmen like me, people I’d see in the dining hall, in lectures, maybe even at parties. My social life was fucking over.

No one said anything out loud, probably to avoid alerting Coach Patterson, who was now leading the girls toward the softball field on the far side of the track. They wanted to keep their little show going, and I was the main attraction. As they jogged away, a few glanced back, their smirks lingering like knives in my gut. I stood there, shaking, my hands clutching my shirt, my hard-on throbbing painfully against it.

Michael and his crew grabbed me, dragging me toward the public bathroom near the field. My bare feet slapped against the cold tiles as we entered, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows. The bathroom was grimy, with two open shower stalls and a row of urinals that reeked of piss. “Time for a shower, Towel Boy,” Michael said, shoving me toward one of the stalls. “Strip.”

I hesitated, my hands still gripping my shirt, but his glare told me I had no choice. With trembling fingers, I pulled the shirt over my head, leaving me completely naked. My cock, still semi-hard from the track ordeal, bobbed in front of me, my balls hanging low and vulnerable. The other guys crowded around, some leaning against the sinks, others blocking the exit. Michael crossed his arms, his own bulge prominent in his shorts. “Go on, shower. We’re all watching.”

I turned on the water, the cold spray hitting my skin like needles before it warmed up. I grabbed a bar of soap from the dispenser, my hands shaking as I lathered up. The guys’ eyes were on me, some making crude comments about my body. “Look at that tiny dick,” one sneered, though I knew my 5.5 inch hard-on wasn’t small—it just felt that way under their stares. “Nice shaved balls, Towel Boy,” another laughed, referencing the grooming Alex had insisted on. “Bet the girls loved that view.” My face burned as I scrubbed my chest, my cock, my balls, the soap slick against my skin. Every movement felt like a performance, my erection refusing to die down, pulsing under the water as I tried to ignore their taunts.

Some of the guys stayed silent, their eyes fixed on me. I couldn’t tell if they were enjoying my humiliation or too scared to intervene. Either way, it didn’t matter—I was alone in this, my body on display, my dignity shredded. As I rinsed off, the water streaming down my toned thighs and over my bare ass, I caught Michael’s eye. He smirked, adjusting his own bulge, and I wondered if he was getting off on this power trip.

Finally, Michael tossed me a towel—rough and scratchy, barely big enough to cover me. “Dry off, Towel Boy,” he said. “And don’t forget—snitch, and you’re fucked.” I wrapped the towel around my waist, my erection still tenting it slightly, and grabbed my T-shirt from the floor. My shorts and jockstrap were still on the other side of the fence, and I had no idea how I’d get them back. As I shuffled out of the bathroom, the guys’ laughter echoed behind me, each chuckle a reminder of my place in their pecking order.

All I could do was pray I’d find a way to get my clothes back before the next class—and that the girls’ whispers wouldn’t follow me for the rest of the semester.