Hot Stuff

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: General Erotica  |  House: Stripping and Humiliation

A shy boy entertains his classmates.

This was inspired by a request by Kurious. I don't know if he will like it but I had a lot of fun writing this, so thanks for the idea.

It was a spell of unbearably hot weather that led to my disgrace. That and my own shyness. And some help from friendly neighbourhood bullies of course.

The temperature was well over eighty (27 C), day after day. After complaints about the unfairness of allowing girls to wear skirts while boys had to wear long trousers in the heat the school relented and to improve comfort, and hopefully concentration, it was decided that for the duration of the heatwave boys could, if they wished, wear their black school soccer shorts instead of their black school trousers.

Being chronically shy and nervous I was one of the few boys who didn't take up the offer. I didn't feel comfortable exposing my legs in public and I certainly didn't want to take the risk of wearing anything with an elastic waist, which would be an open invitation to 'jokers' (i.e. bullies).

The last lesson this day was History, with Mrs Pritchard, possibly the laziest teacher in the school, or maybe the most scatter-brained, it was hard to tell. She was, as usual, late, and was nowhere to be seen as we filed into the classroom, a group of fifteen and sixteen year olds, bored and hot, not wanting to be in school in this glorious weather.

“Aren't you hot in those long trousers, Tony?” asked one of the girls.

“I bet he'd be hotter without them” commented her friend, jokingly.

“Let's find out shall we” suggested Johnny Doyle, a bully I'd had trouble with before. Two of his friends, Ricky Masters and Paul Gittings grabbed my arms and held me at the front of the room while most of the class took their seats.

I should explain that Mrs Pritchard used a seating plan, you couldn't just sit where you liked. There were six rows of five desks and boys and girls alternated, like this:

G B G B G

B G B G B

G B G B G

and so on and were arranged in alphabetical order of surnames so that everyone was surrounded by random members of the opposite sex, not their friends. Each desk was one metre (3'4”) from its neighbours. This was supposed to reduce horseplay amongst boys and gossip amongst girls. Each week the previous week's back row moved to the front and everyone else moved back one row. This week I was required to sit in the middle seat in the back row, between Karen Jones (a bitch) and Pauline Harris (who made Karen seem nice by comparison). The two end seats were occupied by Ricky and another boy, James Harrison, I was friends with.

I was held with my back to the whiteboard, facing the class, as Johnny started to unfasten my trousers. Soon they were round my ankles, along with my underwear, and he lifted my feet one at a time to remove them completely and stuff them in his school bag. Then he moved aside and I stood there exposed to the whole class, my short school polo shirt covering nothing as it only came about three inches below my waist. I'd been afraid of exposing my lower legs and now I was exposing virtually all my legs, plus the private parts between them, to the whole class and most of them were loving it, pointing, hooting, laughing. I tried to pretend it wasn't happening. Thank God the school had a rigidly enforced 'no phones' policy and they made it stick, everyone obeyed.

“Oh dear” said Johnny sarcastically. “I seem to have taken your little panties as well. Silly me. Poor Tony Jenkins, de-bagged in front of the whole class. Everyone can see your little dick and balls. Well, you'd better sit down before you flash Mrs Pritchard.” I was dragged to my desk and made to sit down. Johnny, Ricky and Paul also took their seats.

“Here, pass him the cup” said Johnny, passing a clear plastic cup taken from the water cooler back through the room.

“What do I want this for?” I asked.

“Do you want to go home dressed like that?” asked Johnny.

“No!” I said fearfully. “Come off it, Johnny. You can't do that to me!”

“Oh yes I can. Pritchard will be out the door like an Olympic sprinter as soon as the bell goes, she always is. I just saunter out the door with your clothes in my bag and you get them back tomorrow. If you say anything while she's here everyone will say you stripped for a dare and gave me your stuff to hold so you couldn't chicken out.” He stared hard at James for a second. “Anyone who doesn't say that will soon find himself in the yard dressed like you are now.

“The only way you can have your stuff back is if you put a sperm sample in the cup before the end of the lesson. If you can get a girl to help you without Pritchard noticing then fine, otherwise I'm sure you'll know what to do.”

With mounting horror I realised that I did. There was no point trying to reason with Johnny. He'd enjoy seeing me grovel but he would enjoy refusing me even more. My choice was to walk home through the respectable, middle-class suburban streets of the area indecently exposed and hope to avoid arrest. Or else masturbate in the classroom and hope to avoid detection by Mrs Pritchard and everyone claiming I was doing it for a dare.

I should mention at this point that the 'desks' were not what you would call a proper desk. They were just a fake wood surface, about two and a half feet square and maybe half an inch thick, held up by two oblongs of metal tubing. There was no way to hide anything. Every inch of my body was clearly visible to everyone in my row. James was studiously ignoring what was going on but Karen, Pauline and Ricky stared at my hands clasped in my lap, grinning with anticipation. The girl in front of me, Mary Fox, also turned around and looked under my desk, smiling. And I'd thought she was nice!

Mrs Pritchard finally arrived. Five minutes late, as usual. Chastising the class like it was our fault, as usual. “Come on now, really. We need to get started. Settle down and get your books out you should be ready by now. I know it's last period but we're here 'til four whether we like it or not!”

Of course, getting our books out involved me having to move my hands and Karen, Pauline and Mary bending down to get things from their bags, and making it very obvious they were enjoying looking at me as they did so. “Mary likes you, give her a good show” whispered Pauline maliciously. No doubt she was hoping for a good show herself.

“Come on now” blustered Mrs Pritchard. “No talking, let's get on with it.”

I realised that this was planned, not a spontaneous prank, when Karen, Pauline, and Mary all produced identical new pencil cases that were a thin plastic box with a hinged lid. When they opened these I could see that they had glued a piece of mirror inside the lid. They carefully positioned these, no doubt so that they could see my groin in the mirror while appearing to face the front and listen to the teacher. These three were planning to watch the whole show from start to finish, and were already enjoying the overture.

There was no way I could walk home semi-naked, I knew that. So now my challenge was to a) try to ignore the audience b) get excited enough to orgasm c) keep calm enough to keep the excitement off my face and not arouse Mrs Pritchard's suspicions and d) get the cup off my desk and come in it without attracting attention. And I had a bit less than an hour to do it. Mary was going to get a good, slow, show. I couldn't rush it without giving myself away, I knew that; a red face and grunting would not go un-noticed, even by the famously inattentive Mrs Pritchard.

My exposure was shielded from Mrs Pritchard. Thanks to the other pupils and their desks there was no way she could see under my desk from anywhere in the front of the room, and she could be relied on to take no interest in anything beyond her desk and the whiteboard. She could see my bare shins but she could see everyone's bare shins as the boys were all wearing shorts, except me, and she would assume I was too.

Mrs Pritchard didn't believe in note taking, she thought it was distracting, and so she gave out a photocopied hand-out summarizing the lesson. The good news was that I wouldn't need my right hand for writing. The bad news was that a girl in the front row, Christine Roberts, eagerly volunteered to pass them out and I had to endure her staring at me as she walked slowly along the back row giving them out.

Finally Mrs Pritchard started lecturing and I casually dropped my hand into my lap. Have you ever tried to surreptitiously masturbate in class, with three girls and a boy watching? It's not easy to get in the mood. Whenever Mrs Pritchard turned her back to write on the whiteboard Karen, Pauline and Ricky would turn their heads and blatantly stare at me stimulating myself. When she faced the class they looked straight at her, paragons of interest and attention, but I was sure all three girls were keeping a close eye on their mirrors. At one point Johnny gave Ricky a questioning look from his seat in the third row. Ricky looked straight at my groin, then back at Johnny with a grin and a thumbs-up. Now most of the class knew what I was doing.

I finally managed to get a proper erection and, with almost psychically perfect timing, Mrs Pritchard announced “I'm sorry but there's a typo in the hand-out and you'll need to correct it. The Poor Law Amendment Act was, of course, passed in 1834, not 1824 as it says. So find that in your notes and change it please.”

To do that, of course, meant bringing both hands above the desk. There was a clatter just in front of me. “Sorry, miss, I dropped my pens” said Mary, who had no doubt deliberately thrown them on the floor. She turned to pick them up, staring under my desk as she did so.

“Here, let me help you” said Susan Giles, two places away, getting up from her seat. The two girls knelt in front of me and took their time picking up every last pen before resuming their seats. Pauline, Karen and Ricky stared at me, pretending to watch the girls. All the attention was mortally embarrassing but it somehow seemed to make me feel randy; I couldn't wait to get back to business.

Mrs Pritchard returned to lecturing and I went back to what I'd been doing. After a while I realised I had a problem. It didn't matter if I took my time, it didn't matter what I thought about, it didn't matter if I went fast or slow. I just couldn't get excited enough to finish without having it show in my face. I was beginning to worry that I'd put on this show and still not get my clothes back because I hadn't managed to produce a 'sample' for them. In desperation I really 'went for it' while Mrs Pritchard was writing on the board but she turned around suddenly, looked at my face and asked “Are you feeling alright, Anthony?”

Trying my best to keep my voice normal I replied “I'm fine, miss. I'm just a bit hot, that's all.” There was an air of everyone trying very hard to keep a straight face.

“Do you need a drink of water?” she asked. I would have liked one but wasn't about to stand up and walk out of the room to get it so I declined.

A boy in the front row, Darren Smith, who had a history of fainting, stood up and said “I'm feeling really hot, too, miss. Can I get a drink?” As he moved towards the door he suddenly collapsed in a heap on the floor. I never did find out for sure if this was a genuine faint or if someone put him up to it. Mrs Pritchard of course believed it was genuine, she had no reason not to.

Amid the jeers and shouts of “give him mouth to mouth” and “are you going to loosen his clothing miss? He'll like that!” she revived Darren and brought him back to conciousness.

Mrs Pritchard helped Darren to his feet. “I'm taking Darren to the nurse, to make sure he's okay” she announced. “While I'm gone please sit quietly and read your text books. Chapter Fourteen is all about the reforms to the poor laws that were made in the nineteenth century. I don't want to hear any complaints about noise from Mr Metcalfe next door and when I get back I will ask one of you which Charles Dickens novel was written to protest the 1834 Act. It's in the chapter somewhere.” With that she and Darren left the room.

As soon as she was gone Janice Kelly piped up. “That's easy. It was Oliver Twist, we learned that in English Lit.” Everyone turned to look at me. I had my hand back under the desk trying to finish my 'assignment' while everyone was distracted. Johnny beckoned to Paul and they walked back to where I was.

They stood either side of me and watched what I was doing for a few seconds. Then Johnny grabbed my right wrist, forced my hand on top of the desk next to my left and held both my wrists there. “Get his shirt off” he commanded.

Paul grabbed my shirt and forced me to lean forward as he pulled it over my head, down my arms and off. “Now stand him on the chair” said Johnny. I tried to resist but to no avail and I soon found myself standing on the chair. At the back of the classroom. In full view of everyone. Essentially naked and with an erection I'd been stimulating for nearly half an hour now.

“Now you can finish it” said Johnny, grinning triumphantly. “I'd hurry up if I was you. You don't want Pritchard to come back and see you doing that in her classroom, do you?”

I certainly didn't. The consequences were too dire to think of. Permanent exclusion, almost certainly, and maybe a criminal record as a sex offender as well. I chose the lesser evil and returned my hand to its previous occupation.

Dan Cooper stood by the door, watching for the return of Mrs Pritchard or anyone else in authority. A few people weren't interested, or perhaps wanted to respect my privacy. But mostly everyone crowded around, girls standing as close as they could without getting in each other's way, boys standing on chairs or desks a bit further away enjoying the spectacle. It's not every day you get to see something like that, after all. Karen picked up the plastic cup off my desk. “Let me know when you need this” she said, smiling at the prospect.

Well perhaps it was the sense of urgency, or maybe the female attention, or possibly just that I'd been trying for a long time now but once I got going it didn't take long. “Now” I gasped and Karen held the cup just in front of me. The clear plastic hid nothing from anyone as I ejaculated into it. Everyone was keeping quiet so as not to attract attention from Mr Metcalfe or anyone else but there were suppressed squeals of delight from the girls and they passed the cup around, fascinated by the contents. “I need a tissue or something” I said.

“Use your shirt” said Johnny, tossing it to me. Reluctantly I did, resolving to rinse the affected area later so Mum wouldn't find stains when she did the washing. Then I pulled it on.

“Pritchard!” called Dan urgently in a low voice and everyone rushed to sit down and pretend to study their books.

“I'm glad to say that Darren is absolutely fine” she told us. “But he's staying with the nurse for now and she's asked his mother to come and pick him up, just in case. Now, who can answer my question? Does anyone even remember it?”

Several hands were raised and she picked on Johnny. “The Dickens book was called 'Oliver Twist'” he said proudly.

“Well done, Johnny. I'm glad to see you've been paying attention” she replied.

Mrs Pritchard hurried through the rest of her lesson and then, because she liked to make history 'relevant' so we'd remember it better , spent the last few minutes discussing the similarities in the thinking behind the 1834 Poor Law and more modern developments such as American 'workfare' or British Universal Credit and encouraging class discussion.

The bell rang at four and, as Johnny had predicted, Mrs Pritchard left at speed. Most of the class followed her, except for Johnny, Paul, Ricky and several girls, including Karen and Pauline. I remained in my seat, of course.

“If you want your clothes back stand up, put your hands behind your head and ask me for them. And show some respect; call me Mr Doyle” demanded Johnny.

Seeing no alternative, I complied. I stood there, exposing myself to the assembled company and said “Please can I have my clothes back now, Mr Doyle.” It's not an experience I ever want to repeat. I well remember the sneering looks on their faces as they all stared openly at my genitals and listened to me say it.

“Of course you can” said Johnny and pulled my clothing back out of his bag. But then he walked to the window, opened it, and dropped them out. “Go get 'em, tiger!” Then he turned to his friends. “Come on, let's go, there's nothing to see here that we haven't already seen.” They followed him out and I was left alone.

The classroom was on the ground floor and there were bushes outside the window so I was hopeful that these would hide my clothes and no-one would notice them, but it was still an anxious ten minutes or so as I waited for everyone to leave the school, or get to whatever extra-curricular thing they were doing. Then I walked over to the window and leaned out. Luckily, my clothes were indeed hidden behind a bush and no-one had taken them.

I didn't fancy roaming the corridors in my current state of dress so I checked carefully to make sure no-one was in sight, dropped my bag out of the window and climbed out after it.

I sheltered behind a tallish bush to get dressed and then I walked out of the school and home. I just wanted to forget the day ever happened.

Naturally I was not going to be allowed to forget it, as I discovered the next day. My new nickname was 'Master Bates' or just 'Master' for short. It was hard to get anyone to call me anything else. If I protested they said things like “of course, Master” or “anything you say, Master.” Even some of the teachers caught on to it. I don't think they ever knew the reason for it, they probably just thought I had a reputation for bossiness or something.

I didn't like the nickname but I supposed I could bear it. Just as long as I never again had to bare it. I resolved to give Johnny Doyle a wide berth wherever possible.

The End.


Submitted: August 08, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Britguy. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:

Comments

Callum white

Loved it, great story

Sat, August 8th, 2020 9:49pm

Author
Reply

Thanks

Sat, August 8th, 2020 3:24pm

VanillaEssence

delightful and easy to read and relevant too.

Sun, August 9th, 2020 1:36am

Author
Reply

Thank you

Sun, August 9th, 2020 12:53pm

trek1975

Great story Britguy

Mon, August 10th, 2020 8:27am

Author
Reply

Thanks

Mon, August 10th, 2020 12:28pm

virus1000

Great story! Would be even better if there wasn't a no phones policy and people would take photos and videos to make it even more humiliating.

Mon, August 10th, 2020 6:44pm

Author
Reply

Thanks for the compliment but I don't agree. I like to write stories that happen and then they are over with no lasting consequences. For this reason most of my stories are set before smartphones and digital cameras were invented. But I'm glad you enjoyed the story, and of course you can imagine whatever you want :-)

Mon, August 10th, 2020 12:44pm

Nder

Congratulations, you really hit the target with this one. Maximum humiliation throughout. I blushed for him in his intense degradation, and indeed came out in sympathy, so to speak.

Thu, August 13th, 2020 4:40pm

Author
Reply

Well, thank you. It's nice to be appreciated and to know my story had that effect ;-)

Thu, August 13th, 2020 1:02pm

Daverse

Exciting story! Lots of great detail to explore every nuance of his humiliation.

Thu, March 11th, 2021 6:03am

Author
Reply

Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it.

Sat, March 13th, 2021 2:51pm

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