Title: Med Student's Naked Hearing sequel
Author: teddyzz2000
Dr. Ritchie's bespectacled, salt-and-pepper bearded face broke into a warm smile as he entered the large auditorium where the hearing was to take place. He shook hands congenially with each of the members of the medical school's ethics panel, all of whom were close personal friends.
"Good afternoon, Carl. So sorry about all this silliness," Dr. Hanson confided with a smile as they shook hands. "I've spoken with each member of the panel, and we're all determined this will be resolved to your complete satisfaction. Derrick has no case against you. This is just a naked attempt – no pun intended -- to besmirch your good name and academic reputation. He's not going to get away with it."
The 50ish Dr. Ritchie, balding and husky but in a devastatingly handsome, commanding, almost teasing sort of way, and the slighter-of-build but also good-looking black-haired 40ish Dr. Hanson glanced at the already seated Derrick 10 yards away at the front of the lecture hall and shared a laugh about the unintentional joke. The professors had privately reviewed the tape of the physical exam about which Derrick had demanded a hearing. Now, here they were, in an auditorium holding perhaps 300 interested faculty members, law students, administrators and high-powered alumni, as well as print and broadcast media. Dr. Ritchie had insisted on a fully open hearing to clear his name, and had personally invited many of those who were present.
"Naked indeed!" he snorted.
Three weeks earlier, Derrick had "volunteered" for a mock physical exam in front of his anatomy class as part of his pre-med studies, Dr. Ritchie mused as he followed his three high-powered attorneys to their places at the table opposite the one where the powerfully built stud sat with his panel-appointed advocate – another buddy of Dr. Ritchie.
Before seating himself, Dr. Ritchie strode confidently over to Derrick's table for a quick handshake and chit-chat with the advocate.
"Hi, Jerry," he said, then took a brief up and down glance at Derrick, who immediately shifted from his thighs-open position in his form-fitting khakis.
"Why are you talking with this jerk?" Derrick asked his counsel.
"We go back a long way, Derrick," Jerry replied. "Don't be so sensitive."
"Yeah, Derrick," Dr. Ritchie remarked, smiling. "Keep your shorts on. Or, well, in your case I guess that's not good advice since you don't wear shorts. Well, keep your pants on, then – long as you can, anyhow. We can't have you making a habit of campus pants-dropping, much as, I'm sure, many on this campus might enjoy seeing your naked tush on display."
Jerry sensed Derrick was about to rise and grasped his arm firmly. "Simmer down," he said.
"Good advice," Dr. Ritchie added. "You've already, shall we say, shown your ass enough with this frivolous complaint. Still, I'm sure your stripped tush is safe in Jerry's capable hands, Derrick. My, you're blushing from the top of your head to, well, I guess to the tip of your rather large...penis."
Derrick flushed with humiliation all over again in the knowledge that Dr. Ritchie knew precisely what he was talking about.
"Keep talking, Doc. You're just getting in deeper," he said in his now thoroughly unnerved baritone.
"Yeah yeah," the professor replied, smiling wickedly. "But … but …"
"But what?" the flustered Derrick asked, taking the bait.
"Oh, nothing. I was just saying `Butt.' As in buttocks, as in ass. You remember: That big, muscular thing you willingly put on display for your appreciative classmates three weeks ago. I'm still not sure where you came up with the courage to do it, but I applaud you. I mean, it's not every day that a well-built young catcher for the baseball team freely chooses to strip down to his birthday suit for the very classmates he sees on campus so often. Even the streakers in the 1960s and 1970s often covered their faces so that no one could put a face with a naked body and a name. But sure enough, there you were, bent over on all fours, ass to the class, buttcheeks spread wide open and taking a finger fucking – or rather, a rectal exam – for the benefit of science."
Dr. Ritchie gave another quick smile and shook hands with Derrick's advocate, secretly slipping him several hundred-dollar bills as they shook. Jerry excused himself to chat briefly with a friend back in the auditorium, and Dr. Ritchie took advantage of the fact that no one around could hear his comments to the seated athlete.
"Derrick, you know, I looked up the definition of dumb jock last night and the dictionary had a picture of you. It was amazingly stupid of you to bring this claim against me. I'm an important person on this campus, and whatever has to be done to keep me here will be done. Do you realize the real purpose of this hearing today? Do you?"
"Yeah, you prick, I'm gonna tell how you fuckin' practically raped me three weeks ago in broad daylight."
"Rape? What an imagination. A pre-med student who doesn't know the difference between a rectal exam and a butt-fucking. I had my finger in you, Derrick, not my penis -- though I must admit I was very erect during the entire procedure and would have enjoyed robbing you of your cherry in private." Dr. Ritchie stared down at Derrick for a moment and grinned. "Yes. I would love to reduce you to the panting piece of ass that I suspect is hidden under all that jock posturing. On balance, though, publicly finger-fucking you was even more fun. But just to clarify, you should know that the outcome of this hearing is already a foregone conclusion. You're going to lose and you're going to be incredibly embarrassed all over again in the process. I predict, in fact, that within the hour, you're going to be standing humbly before me in naked humiliation, apologizing directly in front of me, having to look me in the eye and say you're sorry. I may be guilty of what you're accusing me of but you can't PROVE it! No one will BELIEVE you! All they'll see when you make your argument is a young, fibbing baseball stud sitting here, and they'll all imagine you stripped nude and bent over showing off your tight, sweaty asshole because of the nature of your complaint! Mark my words, Derrick," Dr. Ritchie said with a giggle and a deliciously taunting smile, "NAKED HUMILIATION before this hearing is over with."
"You're wrong," Derrick protested. "I told the truth and they have the video to prove it." He didn't have sense enough to take Dr. Ritchie's words as literally as he should, or he might have bolted for the exit at that moment. It wouldn't have mattered. Campus security guards were posted at each exit and were intent on preventing an escape because Drs. Ritchie and Hanson had told them of the fun they could expect to see if things went according to plan.
Dr. Ritchie returned to his side of the room as Derrick slumped back, suddenly feeling very exposed before the doctor. Jerry returned and reassured Derrick that Dr. Ritchie's comments were just good-natured ribbing.
The hearing finally began after Derrick and Dr. Ritchie were sworn in.
"The panel has read your complaint and reviewed the video of the physical exam in question, Derrick, and I speak for all of us when I say we are most unimpressed by the substance of the allegations," Dr. Hanson said, looking over a synopsis of the case in front of him. "You repeatedly say that our respected colleague, Dr. Ritchie, forced you to submit to the nude physical exam in front of your large room of coed students – that he threatened to fail you if you did not submit to the full exam -- checking your lymph nodes, various glands, stripping you bare and examining your, uh, let's see, testes, and administering a rectal exam. Yet not one piece of the audio on the tape confirms that he said any such thing."
"What are you talking about? It has to!" Derrick pleaded to the unsympathetic panel. "There was one point when, well, …"
"When what, Derrick?" Dr. Hanson demanded. "Speak up!"
"When I was, well, naked but had my hands covering my …"
"Covering your … pectorals? Your toes? Your kneecaps? What?!" Dr. Hanson said in exasperation.
"Covering my dick and balls," Derrick said, unable to look Dr. Hanson in the eye but unable to resist the painful impulse to glance at Dr. Ritchie, whose taunting eyes were glued to that particular area of Derrick's anatomy, between glances up at Derrick's eyes so that the young stud was sure to know what his professor was looking at. Dr. Ritchie retained his subtle but, in Derrick's mind, unmistakable hint of a malevolent grin.
"Derrick, you're a pre-med student. This is med school, not junior high. Please use the proper terminology here for the record," Dr. Hanson said. "Your hands were covering your `penis' and `scrotum.' Please state that for the record if it is accurate, Derrick. As a matter of fact, the plaintiff will stand for a moment."
Derrick rose nervously to his feet, the table coming up to his mid-thigh.
"Derrick, just for my satisfaction that you really are a pre-med student and not some fraud wasting our time to find yourself a young female doctor to marry, please state for the record the parts of your anatomy that your hands were covering."
"My hands were covering my … penis and, uh, my scrotum," Derrick said, blushing crimson and again stealing a glance at his still-smiling professor, who was scribbling notes and exchanging smiles with his muscular, smartly dressed young grinning attorneys.
"Much better, my lad," Dr. Hanson said, still in a tone of disgust as Derrick started to sit down again. "Uh uh uh. I asked you to stand for a reason. I told you the words 'penis' and 'scrotum.' You merely repeated them. Dr. Ritchie, please turn on your red laser pointer. Now, Derrick, so that no one suspects you really don't know those terms, please tell Dr. Ritchie where to point his pointer from his seat to demonstrate that you know where those body parts are."
"Wh-- What? Why!" Derrick protested. "I know fucking well where my dick and balls ..."
"Penis and scrotum," Dr. Hanson ventured. "And stop that vulgar talk in here."
"... where my penis and scrotum are! I got beaned in the 'scrotum' in a game last week!"
"Then you won't mind pointing to that tender spot -- or perhaps we need a more graphic demonstration? Perhaps the tape of the exam can be brought in ...?"
"No, no, don't! OK OK, I'll point. It's down here," he said, indicating his crotch, which Dr. Ritchie gleefully zeroed in on with the pointer. The crowd laughed uproariously at this, as did Dr. Ritchie and Dr. Hanson.
"Very well, Derrick. Now continue with this tale. Later we can have Dr. Ritchie examine your scrotum for any injury the baseball accident might have caused. He is our finest doctor dealing with sexual dysfunction that such injuries can lead to."
"No thanks! He doesn't need to be looking at anything on me anymore. Well, anyhow, he told me, 'Hands to your side or fail this course,'" Derrick continued. "It's on the video. You had to have heard it."
"Cue up the video, Aaron," Dr. Hanson said, motioning to someone in the audience. Out walked Aaron, the very classmate who had conducted most of the physical on Derrick in front of the other students and the video camera. To Derrick's horror, he began fast forwarding through the tape of the physical on a large projection screen plainly visible to the entire lecture hall. The eager Aaron was apparently seeking the scene in question. As the tape progressed rapidly – though not rapidly enough for Derrick's liking – it showed him removing his clothing piece by piece.
"Dr. Hanson, I object!" Derrick cried. "I never knew the tape would be displayed at the hearing, or I wouldn't have demanded a hearing in the first place!"
"Aaron, please pause the tape for a moment." Aaron, noting that Derrick was about to drop his jeans on the tape, prolonged the fast forward three seconds longer. The tape stopped at the point at which Derrick had turned his back to the class, shirtless, and dropped his pants about two-thirds of the way down his ass, which was very very slightly open. Mingled with expressions of mild shock were giggles and sighs and even a soft wolf whistle from somewhere. They knew a pretty ass when they saw one, and Mike Piazza and Ken Caminiti had nothing on Derrick in that department.
Derrick looked back at the assembled crowd, whose glances were alternating between his brawny, hairy catcher's ass and Derrick himself. He saw his political science professor, his face beaming with delight and intensity, discussing the case at a furious pace with his students, pointing to the video and animatedly waving his hands to make a point about the significance of Derrick's bared behind and almost-bared asshole in the case at hand. Reporters scrawled furiously and mingled among the crowd, interviewing them for reaction to the ass-flesh on display before them. Most sported sheepish but clearly pleased smiles as they proffered their opinions.
"Catchers do develop good ass muscles," Derrick overheard one of his teammates -- center fielder Sammy, who could have been a Mark McGwire look-alike -- laughingly telling a local TV sports reporter. "So there's no question in your mind that those are indeed Derrick's ass muscles on display?" "Oh yes, definitely," Sammy replied.
"So, Derrick, let me understand. You were happy to have this hearing so long as the tape that supposedly makes your case could not be entered as evidence?" Dr. Hanson inquired. "That's an interesting way to prove your innocence."
"Well, it's just I didn't know it would be used in the hearing …," Derrick said ruefully, absentmindedly rubbing his square, handsome jawline, which sported a new, thick, dark-brown goatee.
"Well, it is, Derrick, and I'm blamed if I'm going to cancel this hearing now because of your lack of foreskin … uh, I mean, foresight rather," Dr. Hanson replied, suppressing a giggle and causing a brief eruption of laughter among the audience, which now knew that the hapless Derrick was circumcised. "The very idea that you would expect to be able to suppress the key piece of evidence makes me question all the more the legitimacy of your claims." The other men on the panel nodded their agreement, amid lustful glances at the bared ass on the screen to their left.
"Aaron, continue with the tape."
"Gladly, sir," Aaron replied and moved toward the VCR.
"Come on, MAN! What the fuck!" Derrick blared. "Turn off the freakin' tape, man. They don't need to see my privates, man – especially not Ritchie! This is just what he wants. It's like he's stripping me all over again."
Dr. Ritchie looked hurt. "Dr. Hanson, I recommend immediate expulsion if Derrick continues with these outbursts, insulting you, the panel, myself and this entire solemn proceeding."
"I'm inclined to agree, and I see the panel does as well. Derrick, you will cease from these shenanigans immediately or be expelled from this school! Now be quiet. Aaron, continue."
A smiling Aaron pressed the play button and the tape continued. Derrick's jeans collapsed to the floor and he slipped them off his feet, giving just the slightest view of his scrotum between his overdeveloped catcher's thighs. This time, the audience was mostly intensely quiet, unwilling to miss even an instant of the tape's baring of the stud who sat, now clothed, before them.
Derrick thought back to precisely what Dr. Ritchie had said to him that day as he turned to face the class, his hands clutching his crotch in desperation.
"This is a complete physical," Dr. Ritchie had said. "We're going to have to see what you're trying to hide there."
"I can't."
"Hands to your side or fail this course!"
Good, Derrick thought to himself, at least now Dr. Ritchie will say that on the tape and it'll be obvious that he's guilty and they'll stop the tape before I'm bare-dicked.
The audio came through clearly:
"Derrick, this was never intended to be quite so, uh, thorough, but I and the class do appreciate your willingness to undergo a full-body exam," Dr. Ritchie said jovially.
"FUCK! He's fucked with the tape, Dr. Hanson!" Derrick exploded, preparing to leap from his seat. "That's not what he said that day!"
"Bailiffs, restrain the plaintiff, please."
Derrick found his hands being cuffed behind his back and himself quickly shackled, in a standing position, to a thick metal post on the side of his table nearest to Dr. Ritchie's table. This accentuated his well-developed chest and the slight protrusion of his privates under his khaki pants, facts that did not escape the notice of Dr. Ritchie, who stared with pure glee at Derrick's covered but well-displayed crotch.
"I'll have you know I have had this tape in my possession since it was entered into evidence. Dr. Ritchie has had no chance to tamper with it, young man, and I'll see to it that you are expelled if you suggest for one moment that I tampered with it," Dr. Hanson said indignantly.
This all happened in only a few seconds and shocked Derrick into momentary silence. All eyes quickly returned to the screen, where the studly jock was just about to remove his hands from in front of his no-longer-private parts.
"OK! OK! I confess. Please. Stop the tape." Derrick yelled.
Dr. Hanson looked surprised at Derrick's sudden outburst. He asked Aaron to stop the tape, which he did, but not before letting another few frames feed. An audible gasp swept the crowd, and there was no attempt to hush the several whistles and catcalls that greeted Derrick's ears as an out of focus still image of a half-revealed low-hanging penis and an ample ball came into view.
Aaron sat back and crossed his arms, smiling up at the nearly stripped image of Derrick's hunky body projected up onto the screen.
Derrick's mouth went completely dry and he felt his balls shrivel up against his groin in utter em-bare-ass-ment, forcing his dick to protrude slightly further forward in the pants that also cupped his butt to wonderful effect. He croaked out some protest, but no one paid him any heed.
"Derrick, please repeat your statement," Dr. Hanson said.
"I...I take it back. I want to drop the charges."
"And you admit that you lied?"
"Yes," Derrick said. He stared at the floor, wishing that this entire ordeal was over. Ritchie had won and there was nothing now he could do to change it. He only wanted to disappear and intended to do just that as soon as he was unshackled.
"Very well. It is apparent to this panel, Dr. Ritchie and everyone here that you have attempted to destroy the career of a fine doctor and respected professor," Dr. Hanson declared. "I don't know whether extortion or something else is your motive, but in any case, it is my duty to punish you severely. Expulsion would be too easy, but I think Dr. Ritchie really should be the arbiter of your punishment, since it is he whom you tried to harm. Dr. Ritchie, your thoughts?"
"Well, Dr. Hanson, as you can imagine, I was hurt and horrified when I learned that I had been accused of forcing a student to strip and display his genitals to one of my large classes. It's quite obvious to me on this, my first review of the tape, that Derrick has, if anything, slightly exhibitionistic tendencies.
"What!" Derrick yelled.
"I suggest you control your outbursts," Dr. Hanson said. "You're in enough trouble as it is. Please continue Dr. Ritchie."
"At any rate, I believe the first order of business is for Derrick to offer me right here and right now a formal, sincere, public apology."
"That's reasonable, doctor. Derrick, what do you have to say?"
Derrick saw that his career, as well as his freedom, was on the line. Did he want to go to jail for refusing to mumble a couple of words? He bucked up and looked Dr. Ritchie from his still shackled position. He was boiling with shame inside. He and Dr. Ritchie both knew that the very subtly smiling expression on the doctor's face was one that taunted him grievously and cruelly, but an objective observer would not have been able to see it, so the doctor could get away with it: "I apologize," was all he could manage, then he looked away, gritting his teeth against the tears that threatened to well up in his big brown jock eyes.
"Well, Derrick, congratulations. That has to qualify as the most insincere expression of regret I have ever heard in my 27 years in the medical field," Dr. Ritchie said. "Dr. Hanson, it seems apparent to me that Derrick is not sorry for what he did, but only that he got caught doing it."
"I agree, Dr. Ritchie. What do you recommend?"
"I recommend that he apologize freely, while standing unshackled in front of me," Dr. Ritchie said mysteriously.
"Unshackle him, bailiffs. Stand in front of Dr. Ritchie, Derrick, and apologize sincerely, please, if you are capable of sincerity."
Derrick stood there shell-shocked under the huge image of his own naked body. He was not yet fully capable of processing the turn of events that had led to his second forcible nearly public stripping –albeit this one was only a videotaped version. His eyes moistened with the slightest tear of shame and embarrassment, but he managed, "I'm sorry, doc" in a monotone as Dr. Ritchie plainly enjoyed his squirming.
"Well, Derrick, that's about a minus 30 on the sincerity meter," Dr. Ritchie said. "It's apparent to me, Dr. Hanson, that he is incapable of sincerity in his present state. But perhaps we could, uh, tweak his attitude."
"How so, Doctor?"
"Well, I still want him to apologize."
"Yes, but how will this apology be different from the first two?"
"Without his shirt or pants," Dr. Ritchie said so matter-of-factly that many in the audience and on the panel did not quite catch his meaning. Realization was beginning to dawn on Derrick, however, and,
even if he did not show it externally, internally he was going purely mad with rage at his predicament and at the slightly bearish, subtly taunting professor who was putting him in it.
"Could you repeat that, Doctor?" Dr. Hanson asked.
"Without his shirt or pants," Dr. Ritchie said, his eyes raised and brows furrowed in deliciously, coldly calculated nonchalance, as if he had asked the most normal thing in the world. "Let me enunciate it clearly for the record: I ... want ... him ... to ... apologize ... to ... me ... while ... wearing ... neither ... his ... shirt ... nor ... his ... pants. I want him mostly bare, in other words, so that he can understand a bit of the indignity that I have felt about these silly allegations. Frankly, I feel as if my reputation has been stripped before the world. His publicly exposed chest and abs and back and calves and thighs and arms -- as well as his private parts clad only in underwear -- will increase the chance that he will be sincere, and it will give him at least some tiny understanding of how I feel."
"Without objection from the plaintiff's advocate, it is so ordered." Derrick looked in desperation at his counsel, who smiled and said he had no objection to the proposal.
"Derrick, I hereby order you in the presence of this panel and this audience and the news media to strip off your coat, tie, shirt, any undershirt you may be wearing, and your pants, and apologize while partially nude to Dr. Ritchie for your behavior. Per the letter of Dr. Ritchie's explicit instructions, after the removal of your pants, you may put back on your shoes, socks, coat and tie, and you may retain your underpants throughout so that your buttocks, penis and scrotum will remain unexposed."
"Pl-, please, Dr. Hanson. Don't make me do that. I've got ball practice after this and, well, I dressed out partially under my clothes," Derrick pleaded, all the power of his muscular, stocky body for naught in this situation. He could feel Dr. Ritchie's eyes boring through his pants from behind as he addressed the panel.
"I don't understand what you mean, Derrick," Dr. Hanson replied. "Tell us plainly what you mean."
"I, uh, well, I'm wearing my practice strap."
"Your what?
"My practice strap. You know, my strap."
"Let's say I don't know, Derrick. Explain exactly what you're wearing."
"My jockstrap for practice."
"Yes, and the significance of this would be …"
"Dr. Hanson, did you ever wear a jockstrap? Most of them bare your glutes. Mine does that and worse. It's a swimmer's strap I borrowed from my roommate 'cause mine was dirty. Swimmers' straps are designed to provide the least coverage possible for the least drag in the water. If I lose my pants, sir, I'm not gonna be far from naked. Please. I can't bear that again, sir."
"I see. Dr. Ritchie, you've heard this description of Derrick's underwear. With that in mind, do you wish to amend your requirements in any way? I leave it up to you."
"Hmm. A swimmer's jock on a baseball jock? That sounds pretty ridiculous and not the least bit believable from someone who has been loudly trumpeting his modesty," Dr. Ritchie said with a laugh. "But I don't for a moment wish to accuse Derrick of more lies than he has already spoken today, so by all means he should prove his claim. Yes, I wish to amend my requirements. Derrick is to
apologize without his shirt or pants – or his sportcoat. He is to retain only his tie, shoes, socks and whatever undergarment he is wearing. And I want him to place his hands behind his head while he apologizes to me at a distance of no more than 4 feet away."
"Very well. Derrick, you heard him. Strip off your shirt, sportcoat, pants and undershirt. NOW!"
"You can't be serious!" Derrick pleaded in emotional agony, his lower lip quivering and his voice quaking as if he were a 10-year-old. "This is what I complained about in the first place, man."
Yet he was confronted with stony-faced panelists who were having none of it.
"No, Derrick, this is what you lied about in the first place," Dr. Hanson said. "Strip, or suffer the consequences."
Derrick's powerful body quaked with dread as he fumbled with his coat and shirt, finally removing them while, in a strangely sexy way, keeping on his tie, which was now no redder than his bared pecs
and abs. He sensed Dr. Ritchie's plan. The tie only accentuated the comparative nudity of the rest of Derrick's body, as would the shoes, socks and, yes, the swimmer's jockstrap. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, but he was helpless to do anything about it.
"The pants," Dr. Ritchie said with phony impatience that only Derrick could see through.
Derrick doffed his shoes temporarily. Turning his back to the audience, he unbuckled his belt and, summoning what was left of his dwindling courage, hooked his thumbs in his waistband and slowly shucked his form-fitting khakis. Now, the glutes that had so finely filled out his pants came into view, inch by sizzling inch. The top of the strap was less than ¾ of an inch wide from top to bottom, far narrower than the usual 2 1/2–inch band atop traditional athletic supporters. And the lower straps, cupping his butt from below, were barely more than strings. The crowd watched the live performance in awe, murmuring. Some of the jocks in the crowd jabbed each other with comments like, "Man, ASSED OUT IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY! FUCK! Must be fuckin' red-faced embarrassin'! No freakin' privacy. All bare-assed, almost bare-dicked and bare-balled!"
Derrick cringed but could do nothing about his situation except hope to make a quick jockstrap apology and leave. He put back on his shoes, taking care to keep his ass cheeks as close together as possible. The hairs in his crack tickled slightly as he moved, and Dr. Ritchie had a delicious view of those slightly shifting pubes.
There was nothing more to do but turn and face Dr. Ritchie. He cupped his hands over his crotch and turned, hoping that the hand-position part of his apology was forgotten.
"Your hands," Dr. Ritchie immediately said when he beheld Derrick frontally. "Put your hands behind your head, face me and apologize. Spread your legs a bit so we can all see the shape of your privates beneath the pouch of your strap."
Derrick could barely suppress his outrage, and his arm, leg and jaw muscles flexed instinctively like those of a shackled, almost-nude gladiator just tantalizing inches from a taunting Roman guard's neck.
But he finally obeyed and drew his hands away from his crotch.
Even Dr. Ritchie gasped, before a wicked grin of sheer pleasure could steal over his lips. There before him stood the same gorgeous stud he had denuded weeks earlier, only now he was wearing the slightest imaginable athletic supporter. Dr. Ritchie felt a startlingly powerful stirring in his pants, which very modestly covered his own manhood.
The narrow top strap of the supporter held up an approximately 2– inch-wide strip of white mesh cloth that trailed down in a sharp V and disappeared between Derrick's hard thighs. A bit of pinkish brown ball flesh, though small, was very plainly visible on the left side of Derrick's crotch to Dr. Ritchie and anyone else within 15 feet of the spectacle. The tie, shoes and socks made Derrick seem incredibly more naked.
"Well, Derrick, displaying part of your scrotum wasn't part of the requirement, but that's OK," Dr. Ritchie chuckled as one of his attorneys, also enjoying the proceedings, slapped him on the back with glee and laughed heartily.
"I'm sorry," Derrick said through gritted teeth.
"For what are you sorry, Derrick?"
"For saying that you made me bare myself, sir."
"What did I ask you to bare?"
"My...uh, penis, scrotum, buttocks and asshole for the class three weeks ago, sir."
"Your words are fine, but your tone is defiant. This is certainly interesting as a peep show, Dr. Hanson, but not as a sincere apology."
"I agree, Doctor. Derrick, you have tried our patience. Dr. Ritchie, what do you suggest?"
"I want Derrick to apologize, Doctor. Sincerely. Publicly. And in the nude."
"Fully naked, doctor? I mean, that strap doesn't leave much to the imagination. I think we can just about see everything the boy is trying to hide under that garment.
The group of power lawyers shifted in their seats and murmurmed in agreement.
"Just about to see is not enough. No. I want him to be naked. I think that if he knows I and everyone else here can see the full extent of his bared penis and the rest of his scrotum-- see the real Derrick, in other words -- as he apologizes, it will finally be sincere."
"An excellent idea. Derrick, I hereby order you to remove the swimmer's jockstrap and stand naked before Dr. Ritchie to deliver a sincere apology."
"N-," Derrick began, but Dr. Ritchie cut him off as if he were cutting off a jockstrap with a pair of razor-sharp scissors.
"Dr. Hanson, I wish to make one further recommendation: that Derrick again put his hands behind his head to apologize and that he sit on the table in front of me – yet still visible to the audience lean back somewhat and spread his legs so that we can also see his butt and asshole while he apologizes. He wished to rob me of my dignity with these baseless allegations. So it is only right that he be robbed utterly of his."
"His...asshole?" Dr. Hanson asked, clearing his throat.
"Yes. His asshole." Ritchie repeated. Jocks like Derrick are used to others seeing his penis in the shower but those boys will fight hard not to let others see that most private place on a man's anatomy that both defines and compromises one's masculinity. Yes. By baring himself in that manner, it would be comparable to a woman forced to spread her legs publicly. And let me remind you. Derrick willing did such a thing in my class--and worst!"
"Very well, doctor. Derrick, remove the strap and sit as Dr. Ritchie instructed in front of him."
"No, I won't do it! You can expel me!" Derrick said through his shock. "I won't let him shame me again in front of my buddies!"
"Bailiffs, if the plaintiff is not naked and spread open sitting on the desk in front of the defendant within two minutes, I instruct you to strip him yourself and restrain him in that position while he is bared rectally," Dr. Hanson said, giving Dr. Ritchie and many others in the room an instant power erection.
Derrick almost gagged with humiliation and helpless rage, his body pulsing red. He was going to be fucked again. Publicly. Shamefully. Nakedly. And he could do nothing about it. Literally nothing. Tears of rage and humiliation beat at his eyes and almost broke through.
He turned to Dr. Ritchie, who now smiled openly and broadly over this happy turn of events. Derrick did what he had to do: He slipped his hands inside the waistband of his swimmer's jock; but before he pulled it down to reveal his over-developed penis and scrotum to everyone in the room, he saw the look of utter triumph and glee in Dr. Ritchie's hungry eyes. Derrick imagined stripping bare and moving against all the protest of his naked body into position on the table in front of the doctor, suspending his legs in air and spreading them wide like a whore. There he would be on nude display for his fully clothed tormentor, who had just three weeks before slipped his long finger inside Derrick's tight, virgin ass. He imagined Dr. Ritchie performing that shameless act again, only this time, he would absently rest his free hand on Derrick's fat penis, gently rubbing his callused thumb over the sensitive spot just below the head on the underside of the straight boy's dick, making him rock hard in front of everyone in the room!
"I apologize, sir," Derrick said again, barely keeping tears of defeat at bay. "But..I can't do it. I can't strip again. Not like this...in front of everyone."
Derrick pleaded directly to Dr. Hanson. "Sir. Please don't make me."
"Very well then," Dr. Hanson responded. "Guards!"
The guards responded quickly to Dr. Hanson's command. They were both big, burly rednecks types who enjoyed the idea of taking one of these college kids down a peg or two--especially, pretty boys like Derrick whose muscles came from a fancy gym rather than hard work.. Dr. Ritchie had promised them a show and they were willing and able to do their part.
"Restrain his hands," Dr. Hanson said.
Roughly, Derrick's arms were pulled behind him and his beefy, bare legs were kicked apart. In his struggle, Derrick inadvertently thrust his crotch forward exposing even more distinctly the shadowy lump of cock flesh still very much contained within the teasingly thin strap.
"How shall we do this?" Hanson asked.
Dr. Ritchie stood up slowly. "Does anyone here have a knife or a pair of scissors?"
There were murmurs before Jerry, Derrick's own advocate, held up a Swiss army knife.
Dr. Ritchie walked over to Jerry, smiling wickedly, and thanked him for the tool. Then he turned on his heel and walked up to Derrick who remained fully restrained by the guards. Ritchie opened the knife dramatically, then tapped it against his open palm. Sweat was dripping down Derrick's bare sides and Ritchie's nose twitched at the manly odor. The doctor leaned in close to the boy's handsome
face, then grabbed the necktie with one hand and quickly sliced it off at the knot. Ritchie waved the pieces in Derrick's face before tossing them aside. Derrick, with the silk band pulled tight around his thick neck, now looked like a degraded stripper as he faced the crowd, chest fully bared, big tits heaving. With the guards' grips instinctively tightening on his restrained arms, Derrick felt like a pig on a spit about to be slaughtered.
"How does it feel Derrick, to know that in a moment or two you'll be standing here with every inch of your manhood on full display? It's as if you've invited the whole world into your bedroom to watch you strip naked for bed." Ritchie's eyebrows arched as he gazed at Derrick's barely covered crotch. "They'll all be openly staring as though you were some animal in a zoo. Even naked in the showers, I'm sure the other boys don't stare--out of respect. But here...well, we're all here to add to your discomfort, to make you feel the humiliation you've attempted to make me feel with your foolish allegations." Ritchie ran the knife gently along the thin band of Derrick's jock, prompting a quick intake of breath from the hunky athlete. "Soon we'll all be able to examine at length--some of us for the second or third time--the star ball player's equipment."
Ritchie pulled up on the waistband on Derrick's left side and began to slice through it.
"Please Dr. Ritchie," Derrick cried. "Please! I'm sorry. Please...don't show them my..."
"Your what?" Ritchie asked, just as the waist band split, fully baring Derrick's left side. The snapping of the tight pouch had caused the thin mesh to gape forward in front, completely exposing Derrick's most private of hair as well as a good third of Derrik's flaccid cock flesh and one healthy-sized ball.
"Oh, now look at that," Ritchie said. "A natural brunette."
Both guards laughed at the joke and responded by kicking Derrick's legs even further apart, causing his barely covered sex pole to swing forward in the now dangerously loose jock.
"You're getting stripped bare boy," one of the guards whispered in Derrick's ear, so close it was almost a kiss. "From here, it looks like you've got a lot to hide."
Dr. Ritchie pulled up on the captive boy's gaping pouch, almost covering up again the object of the stud's shame. Derrick winced, feeling the doctor's finger graze his cock. He would never willingly allow another man to touch him there.. And the doctor knew it! Ritchie's blunt finger moved suggestively under the thin fabric before he let go of the pouch. The crowd watched intently as the minimal covering drooped even more dramatically.
Now, Derrick was nearly half bare in front. The cruel stripping would have completely exposed a lesser man's sex but it was very clear to the crowd that the above average Derrick had quite a bit more to feel shame about.
There were rude catcalls and shouts. Even the conservative lawyers got into it, leaning over the table, craning their necks, whistling and calling out "cock boy" and "Hubba, Hubba...who's got a big cock then?"
"Let's see the rest of it!"
Derrick recognized the voice and, for the first time, let himself see into the crowd. Among the news cameras carefully aimed to capture every excruciating moment of his disrobing, Derrick saw the face of his young, freshman English teacher, Mr. Hunt. The guy had been nice to him and encouraged him to write poetry. They became friends, yet the teacher always seemed to stop by the dorm at the worst times--when Derrick was either undressing for a shower or coming back to his room in nothing but a wet towel. And in the tiny room, Derrick had no choice but to bare his big, humpy buns to his teacher, always careful though to keep what he had upfront hidden. Now, Mr. Hunt was standing along side the others, staring back into Derrick's eyes without shame.
"Time to make the tease pay up," Hunt said, grinning. "Make him show it all off...bare!"
Derrick turned his head in fear and disgust, only to see other faces he recognized. There was the nerdy kid with the glasses whose name he never bothered to learn. The kid who always seemed to be in the dorm bathroom when Derrick was showering. Thank God for shower curtains, Derrick had thought then--no matter how flimsy. Even the president of the gay alliance was among them, a prissy smart-aleck who Derrick and his friends often teased, standing there in the front row and holding up a camcorder!
Derrick's attention was pulled back to the mock stage when he felt Dr. Ritchie tugging roughly on the ruined strap, slicing the cloth at the point where the already severed waistband met the edge of the pouch.
"Please, Dr. Ritchie," Derrick whispered. "I'm sorry. Please don't leave me like this. Not everything!"
"It's a little too late to beg," Dr. Ritchie said. "Though it does become you. Especially dressed--or rather-- undressed as you are. No. I'm afraid your continued lack of sincerity will cost you what little modesty remains."
Derrick suddenly felt the pouch give way as Ritchie deftly grabbed the strap from beneath Derrick's balls, pulling it completely free of the young jock's fantastically muscled body. Dr. Ritchie stood up with a wide grin on his face, waving the ruined pouch in front of Derrick's face. "May I present the real Derrick," Ritchie announced, before taking two large steps to the left. Derrick dropped his head and shut his eyes as bulbs flashed. The large crowd that now nearly encircled him erupted in a lustful roar.
"Fuck yeah! Look how big it is!"
"What did I tell you? I said we'd get to see it."
"Damn vain ball players...Serves him right to have to strip bare."
"I know what I'll be doing tonight," the president of the gay alliance announced to his grinning friend.
"Fuck....that's hot!" said one of the reporters. "Shy jock forced to show it all off. Phew!"
Derrick opened his eyes and was nearly blinded by the flashing lights...but not completely. The nerdy kid was licking his lips and it appeared as though he were touching himself through his pants. Mr. Hunt had an expression on his face Derrick had never seen before, a mixture of mad lust and power.
"I promised myself I'd see it one day Derrick. Stripped bare of covering," Hunt snarled. You can't hide it from me now, can you...you fuckin' tease. I'm staring right at your Big Boy!"
The guards, encouraged by the growing wildness in the room, seized the moment by kicking in the backs of Derrick's knees; as he struggled to regain his balance, the crowd was mesmerized by the obscene sight of nude jock's bared sex swinging from thigh to thigh. Derrick jumped as a big hand roughly cupped his bare rear. He nearly fainted at the realization that one of the redneck guards had the fingers of his big paw pressed firmly against Derrick's clenched, sweaty asshole.
"That's it, Derrick. That's how I've always imagined you," Dr. Ritchie said. "Fat cock swinging from that buff bod like the dumb jock that you are."
The crowd laughed as Mr. Hanson tried to get everyone's attention. "It's time to move onto the apology phase of Derrick's punishment--spread-eagled on the table."
As if sensing that Derrick would never willingly put himself into an even more humiliating position, both guards literally picked Derrick up, one hand on each of his spread thighs, and carried him over to the table where Dr. Ritchie now sat. The crowd gasped as the guards simultaneously dropped Derrick onto the table on his back and roughly grabbed an ankle in each hand before pulling the defeated boy's beefy legs back over his shoulders like a wishbone.
Ritchie himself was stunned yet delighted at the sight. "Oh Derrick, how dreadful for you. I can see right up that tight, jock cunt of yours. Something most macho guys your age, I imagine, would fight hard against. But then again, you know I've seen it. I know very well what your hole looks...and feels like."
Derrick struggled weakly at the words and was horrified to feel his asshole twitch involuntarily. The growing crowd had quickly gathered behind Doctor Ritchie, many straining for the best view. The president of the gay alliance was aiming his camcorder directly over Ritchie's shoulder. "Hey Derrick," the boy smiled. "Why don't you come over to the alliance office afterwards. I can help you with your little problem. From the looks of things, I bet you'd be a natural."
"I'm...not...gay!" Derrick managed, breathlessly.
"We're waiting for your apology," Mr. Hanson said, struggling to make his way through the shoulder to shoulder crowd. "Oh, my..." he murmured, stopping just to one side of Dr. Ritchie. "I didn't think...well, that's certainly...revealing. It's not everyday..."
"It's not everyday that one is allowed to see a nude young athlete's bare assets spread open in such a revealing manner...as though he were waiting to receive some perverse satisfaction."
"Um...well, yes," Dr. Hanson agreed, running a finger under his tight shirt collar.
"And now the apology," Dr. Hanson managed.
"Wait!" Dr. Ritchie said. "He stinks. It's all that nervous sweat. Does anyone have a tissue?"
Again, Jerry, Derrick's advocate, came to the doctor's aid, pulling a pristine, monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket. Derrick wanted to crawl up and die as Jerry's eyes lingered over the boy's splayed crotch. Derrick's big manhood rested back against his stomach, exposing the full, rarely seen sensitive underside of the shaft and head including the fat, round piss slit. Jerry's handsome, preppy lips were slightly parted forcing Derrick to imagine where the man would put those lips, given the chance.
"Looking pretty vulnerable there kid," Jerry said, with a rude wink.
Everyone waited while Dr. Ritchie took the handkerchief from Jerry, folded it once, then twice and again, held one corner up to his lips and generously wet the cotton. Never taking his eyes off Derrick's, he lowered the handkerchief and began to lewdly bathe the jock's open ass with the cloth wet from his own saliva.
Derrick gasped at the touch. "Please, no!" he shouted. The guards restrained him. In doing so, one guard had grabbed Derrick's big pec and began teasing the hardening nipple with his finger.
"Look. He's wiping off your pussy, boy," the guard said.
"Man, that's dirty," the other guard snickered. "He's really getting in there."
And it was true. Not satisfied with merely touching the outside, Ritchie was working one finger slowly into Derrick's open hole. Derrick released an involuntary moan and was horrified to feel his dick stiffen. No please, he thought to himself and dared to look up at the crowd. There were his teammates, standing on the table behind the sea of rapt faces. They too were enjoying his shame. At the most, they had glimpsed his ass and dick in the showers, but none of them had ever seen their shy, handsome teammate like this, on his back getting finger-banged, muscles straining, cock headengorged, piss-slit exposed, thick shaft lengthening but not yet to full proportion. He saw Mark's face, the teammate who was jealous of his success. He seemed enraptured by Derrick's inadvertent sexshow and Derrick thought he saw Mark mouth the words, "fuck his shithole."
He felt Dr. Ritchie massaging his most sensitive spot inside and felt precum drip from the head of his penis. Fearing that he would throw a full out bone, Derrick came to his senses and screamed out the apology, "I'm sorry, Dr. Ritchie," I'm sorry!" But no one seemed to care. Only Dr. Ritchie looked up at him after a moment, his eyes glazed over. Ritchie finally withdrew his finger, supremely satisfied. "Apology accepted," he said, giving Derrick's furry asshole another quick pinch between his thumb and forefinger. "And you can give me a better one once I've plucked your cherry in private. By the way, does anyone see any other spots on Derrick that need wiping?"
Many fingers pointing to Derrick's half-engorged cock.
"Well, then. Does anyone have any clean tissues. Seems mine is filthy."
With that, Dr. Ritchie shook out the handkerchief he had used to thoroughly wipe out Derrick's hole and held it up to the jock's face. Derrick looked quickly away, holding back tears.
The guard laughed, "wiped, just like a baby."
Mr. Hunt produced a tissue. Before Ritchie could grab it, the young teacher licked it with his own tongue. "I can do it," he said.
Derrick watched in horror as his former English teacher and friend grabbed the boy's thick cock at the base and began to clean the swollen head with the wet tissue.
"Never thought I'd get to do this, huh buddy?" Hunt asked, deliberately jacking Derrick's cock. "Or, this?" he said, lightly pinching the skin of each ball. "Or this?" he said, brushing his fingers suggestively against the lips of Derrick's forbidden rosebud. "I should have ripped off that towel when I had the chance, stuffed it in your mouth, and had my way with you. It's what you wanted, wasn't it? Why else would you show a teacher your bare ass?"
Derrick gasped as Hunt's finger entered him. The nerdy kid from the dorm bathroom came forward and grabbed and squeezed both of Derrick's big pecs. "This is what I wanted to do every time you walked around the halls without a shirt on."
Derrick moaned and thrashed his head back and forth across the table. The nerdy kid was now licking his nipple as Hunt's finger pushed deeper into Derrick's clenching hole. He looked up to see the gay alliance president standing over him, a beautiful smile on his face; Derrick watched, helpless, as the prissy guy dropped to his knees and kissed Derrick on the lips, forcing his long tongue deep inside the jock's sexy mouth.
He felt other hands on him, other mouths. He couldn't tell whose was where any longer. At one point, he thought he heard Jerry say, "let me taste that butt hole!"
In the midst of it all, Dr. Ritchie's voice rose high above the others as though it were God's own voice speaking over the splintered crowd.
"Apology accepted, Derrick. Next week, you may deliver it, also naked, on the quad before the entire student body and our main rival's baseball team. I understand you beat one of them up in a
brawl a few weeks back. I'm sure they'll enjoy the show. Afterwards, a select few will follow me back to my office where you will apologize for a third time, in this case, spread open over my desk with my own dick buried deep inside you. Yes, Derrick. The only way you can truly be forgiven is to offer up the one thing you have to give--your straight, jock cherry. It's the only way. An eye for an eye and all that."
Derrick blanked out to the rest of it. Something about the word "cherry" said by Dr. Ritchie's authoritative voice, made his loins quiver until he was shooting reams of hot cum into the air--most of which was quickly lapped up by several mouths before it hit the table.
Derrick knew it would happen, that he would be stripped naked and bent over Dr. Ritchie's desk and roughly fucked by his professor while others sat there, watching him apologize. He also knew that the fight to keep his cherry for another week was going to prove equally as hard as trying to keep his pants on in public.
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