Sunday, 8 December 2013

Scott’s Story – Part 6

Before I forget… although I find it very unlikely that I ever will… I ought to mention something else. It was another consequence, quite unexpected, of my being put back into short trousers for school. 

Among the truly Byzantine rules and regulations that governed the correct wearing of boy’s uniform at my school, a number of pages were devoted to P.E. uniform. Now boys who wore short trousers, like me, were expected to wear a slightly more juvenile version of P.E. uniform than that worn by boys who had progressed to long trousers. In practice this meant that all First Form boys wore Junior P.E. shorts and singlets without exception, since all boys in their first year at my school wore compulsory short trousers as part of their uniform. As I have said before boys in their second year were, subject to parental approval, allowed to wear ‘longs’, but if a boy remained in short trousers during his second year, then he was also obliged to wear Junior P.E. uniform for his gym and games lessons. As I have also said before it was extremely rare indeed for any boy to be seen wearing short trousers to school in the Third Year. I was the exception. I was therefore, due to Emily’s strict interpretation of the school rules, reduced to wearing Junior P.E. shorts and singlet once more for all my gym and games lessons whether indoors or outdoors. 

It is a matter for speculation whether our P.E. teacher would have noticed if I had worn the same regulation P.E. uniform of my classmates. But as it was he couldn’t fail to notice me wearing my Junior P. E. shorts and singlet. He asked me why I was wearing ‘junior kit’ and I was forced to explain that it was because I was still in short trousers; that I had to wear the same P.E. uniform as a junior boy. He shrugged his shoulders and said something like, “Well it’s your choice…” My choice! My choice! What choice did I have in the matter? If it were my choice I most certainly would not… repeat not… as a fifteen year old boy, wear a junior boy’s P.E. uniform… and most definitely not Junior P.E. shorts! 

Why was I making all this fuss about a pair of Junior P.E. shorts you might ask? Emily thought I was being silly and mum certainly agreed. Furthermore, my making such an issue out of something which to them was simply of no consequence, was just one more example of my childish behaviour and one more example of the soundness of Emily’s reasoning which put me in short trousers in the first place. So as usual I couldn’t win. But why did I make such a fuss? Simply put, Junior P.E. shorts had no inner lining, as it was considered unnecessary in P.E. shorts that were to be worn by young boys, most of whom would still be at Tanner Stage 1 and unlikely to have entered puberty. There were of course exceptions and there were rules and guidance notes in the school uniform regulations which I will come to in a moment. 

As you are by now well aware, I was fifteen years old and, apart from an embarrassing lack of pubic hair, as well developed as any other boy of my age. So can you imagine what it was like for me to be made to wear Junior P.E. shorts? Junior shorts not only had no inner lining, they were cut in such a way as to make the inevitable ‘fall-out’ for an older boy much more probable. There was simply very little I could do to stop my penis from poking out of the leg of the shorts. Any activity in the school gym would cause me uncontrollable exposure. Handstands were a nightmare as the whole front of the upturned Junior P.E. shorts would flop downwards towards the waistband and expose everything! If exercises in the gym weren’t bad enough, imagine what it was like when the class was held outdoors. The anxiety and humiliation was intense. 

As I said, there were cases for which exceptions could be made. For instance if a boy was rather, shall I say, too well-developed to wear Junior P.E. shorts with any degree of modesty. After one memorable cross-country run during which my penis spent most of its time outside my flimsy shorts, so that I was forced to run with my hands pushed between my legs as I ran through some well-populated streets, I plucked up courage to talk to mum about my ‘problem’. 

The school uniform rules didn’t allow the junior boy to wear different P.E. shorts, but it did mean the boy could wear a junior schoolboy jockstrap if he was suffering similar problems to my own. But it wasn’t that simple of course… not only did the boy have to have written parental permission; boys also had to have a medical certificate from their school or family doctor sanctioning the wearing of a junior, school approved jockstrap for specified P.E. lessons. 

Now, under normal circumstances it might be expected that the boy’s doctor would be sufficiently aware of the boy’s medical history and physical development for a request to be made and the appropriate paperwork generated for the issuance of a certificate allowing the boy to wear a junior boy’s jockstrap during his P.E. and games lessons. Not so me. For a start… but I’m getting ahead of myself again. 

Before anything else I had to ask mum. Can you imagine how embarrassing it is for a fifteen year old boy to have to say: “Mum… err… mum can I have a jockstrap to wear for school?” Well that’s what I did say when I found mum on her own in the kitchen. It had taken me a while to summon the courage to ask about the jockstrap and I was definitely not going to ask mum when Emily was about. 

“What on earth do you need a jockstrap for, dear?” mum said and looked me straight in the eye. 

“It’s for P.E., mum…” I said, not liking the way the conversation was heading. 

“I thought jockstraps were for older boys…” she said dismissively and turned back to what she was doing before adding, “Anyway you’ll have to speak to Emily about it. You know she looks after your school uniform requirements now…” 

Right on cue, Emily walked into the kitchen where I had been talking to mum. 

“What about Scottie’s uniform?” Emily asked. 

“Oh, Scottie wants a jockstrap for some reason… I can’t think why,” mum answered casually, quite unconcerned about what I thought would be considered a personal matter. Mums just don’t see these things in the same way though. 

I wanted the kitchen floor to swallow me up, I felt so embarrassed. And I just knew what was coming… 

Emily looked at me with her serious look. I didn’t think that Emily would even know what a boy’s jockstrap was, but I was wrong of course. 

“Why do you want a jockstrap, Scottie?” I was asked by a girl two years my junior. 

“I… I just do… that’s why,” I said, trying not to say more than was necessary. 

Emily persisted: “But we must know why you want a jockstrap, Scottie. It’s an extra item of school uniform and it will be an extra expense… an extra expense, Scottie.” Emily said using that ‘reasonable’ voice that so irritated me; talking to me as if I were a ten year old who didn’t understand grown-up things. She carried on: “School uniforms cost money, Scottie, so if you want a jockstrap for school, you’ll have to tell us why you want one.” 

“I suppose some of the other boys have got them... so now he wants one,” mum interjected.

I hesitated and thought that if I could just get this over with and it was agreed I could have a school jockstrap, then that would be and end of it. At that point I had no idea what else would be involved. So I blurted out after a couple of hesitant starts: 

“It’s… it’s… I have to wear Junior P.E. shorts for gym and games… and… and…” 

Red-faced and utterly embarrassed I told mum and Emily how my penis dangled out of the Junior P.E. shorts. I told them about the cross-country run and how my penis jiggled about outside my shorts even though I kept trying to push it back inside the shorts. In the end Emily and mum agreed they would ‘think about it’. 

I was so relieved to have got through my ordeal that I left the kitchen thinking that, either way, whether I got a school approved jockstrap or not, then at least the worst was over. 

It wasn’t. A couple of days later Emily announced that she had read the relevant paragraphs of the School Uniform Handbook and the requirements and approvals needed before a junior boy could be allowed to wear a jockstrap for school activities were quite specific. 

Emily told me about the necessity of a medical examination before a doctor’s certificate could be obtained which sanctioned the wearing of a school approved boy’s junior jockstrap during specified lessons. My heart sank. Why couldn’t I just be given a jockstrap to wear? 

“Don’t be silly, Scottie,” Emily said breezily, “If that was the case… why every junior boy would want one… whether they really needed one or not. Now don’t you see, Scottie, school uniforms are expensive and if every little boy decided he wanted a jockstrap to play in, why think of all that extra cost.” 

Before I could say anything Emily carried on briskly, telling me she had tried to make an appointment to see the school doctor but that he was fully booked for the next few days. So she had managed to get me an appointment with her own family doctor, a Dr Bradley. 

“Once I’d explained how urgent it was, Scottie, they managed to squeeze you in for a special appointment tomorrow afternoon straight after school. I’ll pick you up outside your school and we can go round together… it’s not far. I’m sure the doctor…” 

“But… but Emily, it’s not that urgent,” I pleaded now that the full horror of a doctor’s appointment was made plain, “Why can’t I wait to see the school doctor…?” 

“But Scottie, I thought you wanted to get a jockstrap to wear for your P.E. lessons,” Emily said, “If you’re now telling me that you don’t need one when I’ve gone through all this trouble…” 

“No… no, please Emily, it’s not that… it’s just… just that I didn’t know that I’d need to see a doctor… I thought… I thought that…” 

“… You thought we could just go out and buy one from the school outfitter…” 

“Yes, Emily… but I do still want one… honestly,” I said unable meet Emily’s gaze. 

“Good, then I will meet you outside school and take you to see the doctor for your examination.” 

And that was that.

The next day after school Emily and I went for my appointment with her doctor. My embarrassment started as soon as we arrived at the doctor’s reception when Emily loudly announced my name to the lady and that I was there for the express purpose of an examination to see whether I needed to wear a schoolboy jockstrap during P.E. lessons. There were at least two or three ladies in the waiting area along with a couple of young boys who sniggered when they heard Emily telling the receptionist what I was there for. Then I noticed a girl who looked to be about my age. She turned and whispered something to her mother. 

Now bearing in mind I was wearing short trousers, knee-socks, blazer and school cap and therefore looked like a gangly, overgrown 1st Former, the mother’s disparaging reply to the girl’s whispered comment will probably come as no surprise: 

“That boy there? Oh, he’s just showing off… Trying to make us all think he's got a big do-dah… that’s all…” Then she sighed and turned her eyes upward and added: “Boys! They’re all the same at that age… just showing off.” 

I wanted to say, “But I’m not that age… I’m nearly sixteen!”, but of course I couldn’t as it would have been even more embarrassing to have to explain to a complete stranger why I was dressed in short trousers, so I had to keep quite and blush in silence. 

As we waited Emily managed to draw even more attention to me by fussing over me; straightening my socks, making sure my cap was on properly and brushing bits of fluff from my blazer. She tugged at the hem of my little grey school shorts and told me to speak up and not to mumble when the doctor asked me questions. It was mortifying to be treated like this, but I knew it would be even more mortifying if I had made a fuss and mum got to hear about it, so obediently I stood while Emily made sure I was nice and smart for the doctor. 

All too soon the door to the doctor’s consulting-room was opened and I was in for a shock. It was a lady doctor! I hadn’t even considered this turn of events. Emily hadn’t said anything and there was nothing in the reception or waiting area to indicate whether Dr Bradley was male or female. To suddenly see that I was to be examined by a female doctor turned my legs to jelly. 

Dr Bradley was wearing a white coat and looked to be extremely efficient. She smiled at Emily as I was led through the door. It was then that to my horror I realised that Emily would be with me in the doctor’s room! 

The door was closed. Emily was shown a chair and I was expected to stand. 

“Mind your manners, Scottie…” Emily said. I must have looked gormless as I was still in shock at finding out that Dr Bradley was a woman. “Take your cap off… and stand up straight,” Emily instructed. Dr Bradley smiled at me and it was clear she was impressed by the way Emily had me under control. 

Dr Bradley looked at me, then shuffled some papers in front of her and spoke to Emily: “I believe you wanted me to examine Scott to see if it is suitable for him to wear a school approved jockstrap?” 

There followed a conversation between Emily and the doctor about boys needing jockstraps for P.E., a conversation about which I was not included. Dr Bradley glanced at some papers before announcing: 

“Well, I suppose we’d better get on with it… Would you get undressed please Scott?” Of course it wasn’t a request; it was an order. Dr Bradley indicated a side-table, “You can put your clothes there while I carry out the examination.” 

I was stunned. “What? All my clothes…?” 

“Yes, Scott. Of course ‘all your clothes’. How else do you expect me to carry out the examination?” 

I noticed there was a screen on one side of the room. “Should I go behind the screen?” I asked. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Scott,” came the doctor’s reply, “Now hurry up and get undressed so that I can examine you.” She didn’t seem to be in the least concerned about Emily’s presence. 

But then, to my complete surprise, Emily spoke: “I’ll go and sit in the waiting-room while you carry out the examination doctor…” 

I simply couldn’t believe my ears that Emily was proposing to spare my blushes until Dr Bradley replied: “That won’t be possible Emily, I’m afraid. I shall need you to stay and chaperone Scott while he is undressed. All boys have to be accompanied if they are to undergo a full nude examination… it’s Practice policy…” 

The words ‘full nude examination’ sent a shiver down my spine. 

I got undressed and as I turned to face Dr Bradley I’d never in my life felt more naked. Every little draught tickled my bare skin. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands. I knew instinctively that it would be wrong to try and ‘cover-up’. I was unbelievably aware of the way my penis wobbled when I moved and I prayed that it would behave and that I wouldn’t get ‘flustered’ in front of the doctor. 

Dr Bradley told me to come and stand by the side of her desk. She swivelled her chair round to face me. Then she spoke to Emily: “You did tell me, but could you remind me of Scott’s age…” 

“He’s fifteen, Dr Bradley.” 

“Oh, yes that’s right, fifteen… hmm, fifteen years old...” she was looking straight at my hairless pubis, “Well, it’s unusual... not unknown…” she addressed my smooth genitalia, “… and just within normal distribution… even so I would have expected some sign of pubarche…” 

Then she suddenly looked up and directed a question straight at me: “Are you able to produce sperm, Scottie?” 

She caught me completely off-guard. I was so stunned and embarrassed by the directness of her question that I didn’t answer it properly and simply muttered: “I… I… Umm… I…” 

“Come along, Scottie, you must know whether you can produce sperm. Do you know what sperm is?” 

I glanced sideways at Emily. This was so embarrassing: “…err, yes… yes, doctor…” 

“Then tell me… do you produce sperm, Scottie?” 

This was awful! 

I bit my lower lip before admitting: “Yes miss… I mean yes, Dr Bradley.” 

“Well, that’s something,” Dr Bradley said breezily and turned to address Emily, “It’s not uncommon for boys to begin puberty and start producing semen before they start to grow pubic hair… in fact most boys are able to begin ejaculating some fluid during this stage, although it’s usually quite thin and clear and unlikely to contain mature spermatozoa…” 

I stood there, bare-nude and on full display, and Dr Bradley proceeded to give an impromptu lecture to Emily about boyhood puberty. She went on to talk about how the boy’s penis lengthened and thickened; how the testicles developed and the scrotum increased in size to accommodate them. 

“What we have here in Scottie is an example... an interesting example... of delayed pubarche,” Dr Bradley told Emily, “Scottie has clearly entered puberty, since he has admitted he is able to produce sperm. From a purely visual examination of his genitalia I would say that puberty is well on-track, but without any sign of hair growth. Interestingly enough…” Dr Bradley continued, “Full pubertal development does not in anyway depend on pubarche, so that a boy can happily proceed through until even late-teens without any sign of pubic hair. Even when it does finally begin to grow, it may never be more than a light dusting of immature hair such as one would see on a much younger boy…” 

“So Scottie might not grow any hair around his penis for ages…” Emily concluded with more than a hint of mischief in her voice, “and he’ll look like a little boy…” 

Dr Bradley smiled indulgently, “… not quite like a little boy, Emily, though you’re right, it does look as though Scottie will have to wait for some while yet before he gets any hair down there.” 

The examination began in earnest and I was weighed and measured. I was prodded, poked and listened to… all the usual stuff. But then I was told I would have to perform a series of exercises for ‘evaluation’ purposes. 

“First of all Scottie, I just want you to jump up and down for me…” Dr Bradley instructed, as if making a nude boy perform an exercise purely designed to make his penis and testicles bounce about, was nothing out of the ordinary! 

Of course my penis bounced up and down made a noise as it slapped against me. 

“That’s it Scottie, keep jumping up and down… good boy…” Dr Bradley said as she watched my penis bouncing. 

I felt like a complete idiot, but worse was to come as Dr Bradley decided to “up the tempo” as she put it. 

“Right Scottie, you can stop now,” she said as she leaned back in her chair to make some notes. For a moment I thought she had finished, until she said, “Okay, Scottie, I want you to do some jumping-jacks for me… can you do that?” 

Of course I could do jumping-jacks; it’s just that I’d never done them fully nude before… and certainly not in a doctor’s surgery and never in front of a lady doctor… to say nothing of Emily! 

“Please, Dr Bradley… do I have to?” 

Dr Bradley smiled at my evident embarrassment: “Of course you have to Scottie. How else do you expect me to evaluate your suitability for a special school uniform dispensation? Now there is no need to be shy in front me… or Emily for that matter. I gather from Emily that she’s seen you fully nude before, so that shouldn’t be a concern. Now how about some nice vigorous jumping-jacks for me? I want you to put as much effort as you can into them… Come on Scottie, let’s see you really exert yourself…” 

By this stage I was seriously wondering whether being awarded the privilege of wearing a schoolboy jock-strap was worth the extreme embarrassment I was being put through. But if I didn’t convince Dr Bradley, I’d have to put up with the further and endless humiliation that came from having to wear junior boy’s P.E. shorts.

I started the exercise and my eyes were drawn to look at myself in a mirror across the room. I tried to look away, but I couldn't stop myself from looking at my penis and testicles as they bounced and jiggled about. The noise as my feet smacked the floor of the doctor’s room was echoed by that of my penis slapping against my abdomen and legs. After a while I was told to clap my hands over my head and this made the exercise even more exhausting. And the bouncing about had a stimulating effect on my penis… as if I needed anything else to add to my embarrassment! 

When I was given permission to rest I couldn’t help but see what had happened to my penis in the big mirror… it was pointing forwards, straight out and level with the floor! I wanted to run and hide, or at the very least to cover myself, but Dr Bradley briskly told me to put my hands on my head and to walk back to her desk. My shame was intense as I walked the short distance across the room. I could feel my ears burning as my blushing reached proportions of embarrassment that I’d never experienced before. My penis wobbled from side-to-side and as I walked I could feel my legs trembling. 

I was subjected to an intimate examination of my genitals by Dr Bradley. As she did so she kept up a running commentary on her findings. Emily asked questions and was answered by Dr Bradley. I was more or less ignored as they discussed my penis and how it had responded to vigorous exercise. 

In the end Dr Bradley left me standing still fully nude and still with my hands on top of my head, while she went and sat down at her desk again. 

“Emily, I’m going to recommend that Scottie be permitted to wear a junior schoolboy jockstrap for a trail period. You will have to bring him back for further tests and a medical examination in, say, two weeks, so that I can assess how he’s getting along…” 

“I’m not prepared to give Scottie a full certificate, but I will issue him with a probationary certificate with will allow you to obtain a junior school approved jockstrap from the school outfitter. As Scottie is still in short trousers the assistant at the outfitters will need to see this authorisation. I am only prepared to sanction the use of his jockstrap during P.E. and Games lessons… Scottie is not allowed to wear it on any other occasions…” 

Emily told Dr Bradley that she understood and that she would make sure that I wouldn’t abuse my new privilege. 

That’s how I finally came to be awarded the special dispensation which permitted me to wear a jockstrap (albeit a junior schoolboy jockstrap). All the same, I still had to accompany Emily to the school outfitters in order to purchase my new item of school clothing. Much was made of the paperwork and Emily explained all about our visit to the doctor’s and how I was assessed for my suitability for the jockstrap. It all got rather embarrassing as the shop was fairly busy. I noticed a boy come into the shop who was in the year above me before I was put back into short trousers. His name was Noel and of course whereas I had been demoted to the 3rd Form, he had entered the Sixth Form and was well on his way to becoming a Prefect. He looked at me rather disdainfully as I stood there in my short trousers. I smiled as if to say ‘hello’, but he made no attempt to speak to me. My eyes travelled downwards to look with envy on his smart, tailored long trousers that fitted him perfectly. 

After casting one more disparaging look at my bare legs Noel turned to the shop assistant to make enquiries about buying a new cricket box. Within the space of a few minutes he had completed his purchase. I was left feeling utterly bewildered that he could come into the school outfitters and buy a cricket box, on his own, without anyone asking for documentation to prove he had been given authority to wear one. I knew as I watched him that Noel hadn’t had to undergo one of the most humiliating medical assessments ever devised to test his suitability to wear the item in question. He wore long trousers and things were different when you wore long trousers. 

It was so unfair… after all Noel was only a year older than I was! 

I was snapped out of my resentful thoughts by Emily: 

“Come along Scottie, the assistant is going to show you how to put on your new junior jockstrap so you’ll know how to put it on properly by yourself at school when you get changed for P.E. lessons…” 

I was aghast: “But… Emily… I know… I don’t need… please…” 

Emily didn’t stand for any of my nonsense and simply reminded me that if I didn’t do as I was told she would have to speak to Dr Bradley and tell her that I didn’t need to wear a jockstrap anymore. That did it of course and I meekly followed the middle-aged lady assistant to the fitting-room. 

As we passed by Noel he turned and gave me a look of such withering contempt that it made me feel utterly ashamed of myself.


No comments:

Post a Comment