The Psychology Experiment

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

What do you do when you need a nude model nude for all the wrong reasons?

The Psychology Experiment


I went to the psychology building, because I knew Professor Roberts would be there early and I was anxious to pick up my paper. I had not been doing to well in his class and I was pretty sure that my last study/paper did not “wow” him. He was indeed there and when he saw me he frowned. Not a good sign. He fished my paper out of his satchel and handed it to me.  C-.

“I know you’re disappointed Amy,” he said, “but I warned you, if you are not willing to take chances and mix things up a little bit, this is the best you can expect.”

He was right of course my experiments were deadly dull. I was afraid to take risks or more importantly, take any risks with my subjects. I empathized with them too much, and didn’t have what it took to “leave them out there” when things got sticky.

I crossed the quad and entered the Fine Arts building. I went to my art locker and pulled out the sketch I was working on for my “Life Drawing” class. Here again I was confronted with my utter lack of daring. I had sketched our model, but I hadn’t yet attempted to draw his penis. A couple of other girls in the class had teased me about it.

“Good God,” one of them said, “you’ve left off the best part!” “I mean if he’s willing to put it out there, the least you can do is draw it!”

I was thinking about this, deciding that today would be the day. First, I’d draw this guy’s penis and then I’d come up with a psych experiment that would make my professor stand up and take notice.

“You know, I’m not going to be able to give you better than a C- on that sketch if you don’t fill it in.” I jumped a bit. I hadn’t realized that my art professor had walked into the room, and stood right behind me.

“As a matter of fact,” I said, “I plan to, uh, fill it in during today’s class.”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, “There is an e-mail awaiting you at home. I’ve had to cancel today’s class.

And this was to be our model’s last day, so unless…” and here he paused and looked at my sketch again, “you can get this young man naked just for you, I’d say you’re looking at a C-.” With that he smiled and started to walk away. He stopped at the door and turned back. “Come to think of it,” he said, “I don’t have an e-mail address for our model to let him know about class being cancelled. Do you know him? Do you have a way of getting in touch with him?”

I didn’t know this guy from Adam, except to see him walking around on campus from time to time, and yet I heard myself telling the professor that indeed I could easily let him know about class.

Even as I asked myself why I had done that, I already knew the answer, I did it to get an A on my next psych paper…and maybe on this sketch too!


Supposition: Faced with two hard choices, a person will often take what appears to be the easier choice, no matter how many times it turns out to be the wrong choice.  And, they will stubbornly cling to those wrong choices, simply because they have invested so much in them.

First Observation: Being naked in front of a class full of art students is very different than being naked in front of, say, a class full of US History students.


I only had a few hours to set things in motion. There were so many variables, so many things that could go wrong. And yet, I was so focused. Also, it’s amazing what you can get just by asking… class schedules, class rosters, movie cameras, etc.  Just as I thought, there was not too much going on in the building this late in the afternoon, fewer professors, security guards, etc., to worry about.

Thirty minutes before Art class would normally begin, I was pacing in front of our classroom. I had to be there in case he showed up early. A horrible thought hit me. What if he knew or ran into someone from our class who had already let him know that class had been cancelled. As it got closer to the time class normally started, I began to despair that my plan was already foiled when I saw him come into the building. Yes! Time to affect panic mode!  

I ran up to him and said, “Oh my God, where have you been, didn’t you get the e-mail?”

“What e-mail?” he asked, feeding off of my panic.

“Oh gosh”, I said, “Where do I start? Class today was rescheduled and relocated. It was supposed to begin 15 minutes ago and is in a classroom on the fourth floor. Professor Anderson asked me to come find you. He is not happy!”

As we walked past our darkened, locked usual classroom, I slowed enough for him to see the faux e-mail I had taped to the door. “I never got that,” he said, now jogging to keep up with me.

“Well he thinks you did,” I lied, and proceeded to explain what he needed to do and fast!

When we got to the fourth floor I steered him towards the men’s room. “Strip,” I told him and put your clothes in the bag hanging on the stall door. I’ll get your robe.”

As he darted into the men’s room, I sighed a happy sigh. I was doing this! And so far so good--this just might work.

A minute later he stuck his head out of the men’s room. “Where’s my robe?’ he asked.

“No one thought to grab it,” I said. “Look, it’s the class right across the hall. Give me your bag of clothes and get in there. He handed the bag to me slowly and turned towards the class. “Oh and take this,” I said as I handed him a folded note.

“What’s this? He asked.

“Just take it in with you,” I said.

How I wish I could have stayed to watch as he walked into an ongoing US History class completely naked, clutching a piece of paper. As I turned to run down the stairs to prepare for the next phase, I could hear the first reactions…”DUDE!, What the…,” and then, the laughter.

Perhaps at this point, standing there naked, no doubt stunned, he would have remembered the note in his hand. As he opened the first fold he would have read, “Your clothes are in the bathroom.” They weren’t, of course, but I needed him to have a quiet private place to think. I hoped that he would race back to the bathroom, look in the stall, curse when the clothes weren’t there and then standing there, panting in panic, notice that there was more to the note if he unfolded the paper yet again.


Sorry. I know you’re in a tough spot. The way I see it, you have two choices. Simply put, Choice One is to walk back to your dorm right now, very, very, naked, and Choice Two is to go through a little more humiliation, but with the guarantee that you can leave in your own clothes.


I sat in the back of a class on the third floor with a wig and tinted glasses. If he showed up, I wanted to be there, but I didn’t want him to know I was there. For all I knew he was streaking across campus right now, and my little science experiment would be DOA. My note had gone on to explain that if he chose option two, he was to head down to a specified class on the third floor where a group of students would be waiting with further instructions and a bag of clothes.

It had not taken long to gather a group of students. I had asked one friend to make a few calls and in no time at all I had 30 students sitting in a classroom. All they had been told was that a naked guy might show up and if so, he would have further instructions.

I looked around at the group, about ten guys and twenty girls. They seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood as a group.

There was a knock on the door (I had instructed him to knock, and was pleased that he had). This meant he had read my note and was so far following option two.

As he walked in, everyone froze. A few people in the hall followed him in, curious to see why a naked guy was roaming the halls. This was a different reaction than he had had on the fourth floor. There he had surprised a group, to this group, this is what they had expected.

Still, there was some laughter and a few gasps.

Finally, after a few seconds, he spoke up. “I, I’m (he seemed to have trouble finding his voice) su-supposed to tell all of you to look under your desks. Taped to one should be an envelope.” After a little shuffling, one girl called out, “ooh ooh I win!” This got a laugh from the room. She opened the envelope and began to read.


**Do not read this out loud. You have the power to end this poor boy’s humiliation. In the teachers desk there is an unlocked drawer that has a pair of pants and a shirt in it. You can tell him where they are and this will all be over, except of course for the part where everyone is pissed at you for ruining their fun. Or…**


She bit the bottom of her lip, deep in thought. “WELL!?,” somebody called out.

She looked around the room with a frown on her face, “the letter gives me two choices,” she said. Another pause and then she smiled and laughed as she said, “ I am supposed to give him this second envelope to open after he has either done 20 jumping jacks, while someone of my choosing swats his butt or he’s to come to me on all fours and beg for the envelope.”

“Which will it be,” someone called out.

She met the naked boy’s eyes and asked him which he preferred. “Definitely the jumping jacks,” he said.

She smiled and said, “On all fours please.”

Fascinating! A minute ago she was having trouble deciding whether to be merciful and now she was reveling in her moment enjoying the prolonging of his humiliation.

He sighed (realizing he had little choice) and got on all fours. Someone called out “gooood boy” and everyone laughed.

The girl took her cue from that and said, “c’mon boy, here boy.”

He started towards her, no easy trick on an old wooden floor. She kept coaxing him and when he arrived at her desk, she mussed his hair and said “good boy!”

He asked for the envelope, and she leaned over and swatted his butt. “No one asked you to speak. I believe that begging was called for. Now beg! You know…” and then she held up her hands like paws and panted.

So he held up his hands/paws and panted.

“That’s it,” she said, “now speak.” He started to ask for the envelope again, when she cut him off and said it again slowly, “s-p-e-a-k.”

He looked at her, sighed and started to bark/whimper. “Good boy”, she said again and stuck the envelope in his mouth.

He immediately grabbed it and tore it open.


**Almost done, baby.  There are a pair of shorts in the bottom left hand drawer of the teacher’s desk*, why don’t you put them on now and meet me on the second floor in front of the planning office. Or don’t. Just run on home. But if you want your clothes back, I’ll see you downstairs.**

*(I, of course, had not actually put a pair of pants and a shirt in there. Had she directed him to the drawer, I had a plan B. I had lots of plan B’s, but so far I hadn’t needed any of them).

He walked over to the desk, opened the drawer and pulled out a very small pair of blue silk shorts. As he struggled to pull them on, someone called out, “damn, I think wearing those is more embarrassing than being naked.”

He headed towards the door, put his hand on the knob and hesitated. If walking out into the hall in just a teeny pair of blue shorts wasn’t as humiliating as being naked, it was a very close second!

I followed him out, and had to run-walk to keep up as he was in a big hurry to get downstairs. He was attracting a lot of attention!

As he pulled up in front of the planning office, he nervously looked left and right, and fidgeted because he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. Part of me wanted to hold back and just observe him for a while, but that invited too many variables that could overwhelm any of my plan B’s. So instead, I walked up to him and told him to go into the planning office and tell the nice lady to read the note under her blotter.

Part of him wanted to ask me what the hell was going on no doubt, but I think the idea of getting out of the hall won out.


**Miss Rhonda,

Hi, it’s me Amy. Hopefully a young man in tight blue shorts directed you to this note. If so, then the psych experiment I promised to tell you about is in full swing. Thanks for all the info earlier today- it has been a big help! Now, you have two choices. One, take pity on this poor boy and give him some clothes from lost and found and send him on his way, or …**


A minute later, Rhonda popped her head out of the office door and said, “Is it wrong that I didn’t choose to send him on his way?”

“No,” I laughed, “there are no wrong answers here. Just give him back to me in thirty minutes.”

She looked at me a little sheepishly and then asked, “and I hope it’s okay that my sister is here. She stopped in for a quick visit, and, when that young man walked in in those hot pants and, well, when I showed her your note, she said wild horses couldn’t drag her away!”

I started to assure her that this was okay, when a student walked up.

“Oh I’m sorry darling,” Rhonda said, “we’re gonna be closed for 30 minutes or so.”

With that she shut the door and audibly turned the deadbolt. In what seemed like a mere second or two later, the door swung open, a sign that had “Closed for 30 minutes” scrawled on it with what looked like a Salvador Dali clock denoting the current time was taped to the door and then it was closed again with a thud and a click.

I tended to a few more preparations and then sat down on a bench outside Rhonda’s office to wait for my subject to be returned to me. Every few minutes the air was punctuated with laughter drifting out from the office--feminine laughter to be sure.

After about 45 minutes, the door opened and Rhonda popped her head out and looked both ways. When she didn’t see anybody, she motioned for him to leave her office.

“Sorry we went over on time honey,” she said to me, “oh and yeah, I’m afraid the shorts didn’t quite make it.” With that my subject emerged from the office, with his face redder than I’d seen it all day. Behind him in the office, holding up a mangled pair of shorts, Rhonda’s sister mouthed me a “thank you.”

I steered him down to the first floor and then down the hall towards the public restrooms. I couldn’t help but notice a flower that had been drawn on one butt cheek with a sharpie and on the other, a bright red pair of lips, curled in a devilish smile. We stopped just outside the ladies room and I said to him, “Once again, you have a choice. Run home now and be done with this or follow me into the ladies room and get your clothes,” and hear I paused, cracking up just a little, adding “knowing of course that it’s not really that simple or clear cut.”

“If I go in there,” he said, “will I get my clothes?”

“Scouts honor,” I said, raising my right hand.

So, amazingly, in he went.

As soon as he rounded the corner into the ladies room, he was confronted with…ladies.

You would not have thought so many could fit in this space. And the light from the cameras made it so bright. We were live streaming after all. A bottle of (cheap) champagne was uncorked and poured all over my poor subject in a mock locker room celebration.

The sharpie, I’m glad to report, did not run.

The ladies were having a good time interviewing each other and my subject about his “adventures” and “why didn’t he wear clothes” “and what was he doing later” “and, ahem, did he drive a fancy sports car by any chance?”

Finally, he asked me if he was done and I assured him he was.

I told him that his clothes were flying from the flagpole right out front.

“Of course,” I said, “there may be a few people gathered out there, what with all the talk after US History class, the pictures sent from peoples phones in the halls and in that class on the third floor and the live stream…”

At this point, I really thought he might high tail it out the back, but no, he mustered an admirable amount of confidence and strode out of the front of the building, and walked straight to the flagpole amid a chorus of thunderous applause. He grabbed the rope and unwound it for what must have felt like an eternity. Finally, he took a step back and yanked on the rope. At that point, his clothes should have started their slow descent down. Should have and would have, if not for that damned knot…


A on my drawing—amazing , ahem, detail

A+ on my Psych paper



Submitted: May 04, 2020

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Oh man! Poor, poor guy! Will he ever live it down?

Tue, May 5th, 2020 12:19pm


Brilliant story. Thank you.

Fri, May 8th, 2020 4:20am

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