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From: "Peregrinf" <dfowler@catskill.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Beth Naked in School 1/12 (f exhib) by Peregrinf
Date: Mon, 11 Mar 2002 23:10:05 -0500
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"Beth Naked in School" is a continuation of the "Naked in School"
series that began with Karen Wagner's "Karen Naked in School."
You might want to start there. Then follow up with my first
contributions to the series, "Carl Naked in School," and "Carl
Naked in School - Beth's Story," before you start this tale. All
can be found in the ASSM archives.

Beth Naked in School 1/12 (f exhib) 

Tuesday, three days after Carl and I had gone to the homecoming
dance, insanity struck again. Mom and daddy and I were having
dinner, (meatloaf, French cut string beans, steamed carrots, and
chocolate pudding for dessert - yum!) when the words popped out
of my mouth. 

"I want you to sign me up for the program." I toyed with my
carrots, not looking at either of them. 

"Oh my," mom said softly. 

Daddy choked on a bite of carrot, and I thought for a moment I'd
have to Heimlich him. 

"You what?!" he managed do wheeze out after a few minutes. 

"You put me on the `will not participate list,' didn't you?" I
asked. 

"Well, yes, we did," daddy admitted reluctantly. He, I should
mention, was still getting over the fact that I'd gone to the
homecoming dance naked, with Carl, my boyfriend, who was also
naked, because he, Carl that is, not daddy, had been required to
(go naked that is) because he, Carl, was in the program that
week. 

Boy pronouns can get messy! 

I should mention that mom had broken the news about my state of
dress, or the lack thereof, to daddy after Carl and I had left
for the dance, and then had used her feminine wiles to keep daddy
from riding to my "rescue." 

And I'll go no farther down that road, thank you very much!
Though I will admit I noticed their sheets were in the laundry
the next day, only about a week early! 

Anyway, even by Tuesday, daddy was still not completely
reconciled to his "baby" having shown all at the homecoming
dance. 

"I don't want to be any different than the rest of the kids in
school," I explained quietly, looking at him. 

"But not all of them are going to be taking part," he argued. 

"By the time the program is completed, most of them will have
taken part," I pointed out. Stephanie, in fact, was in the
program this week, poor thing. It was an awful strain on her, I
knew, even though Carl and I made a point to include her in our
walks between classes when we could, and had lunch with her. 

On the other hand, it was doing her good. For one thing, she'd
said that morning that she was making a serious effort to lose
some weight, even though Carl and I insisted she needn't do that.
She was always going to be a big girl, but getting rid of the
roll at her tummy was a Good Thing, we all agreed. 

"I might point out," mom observed wryly, "that going to the dance
naked has already - uhm - made you stand out?" 

"That's the whole point!" I complained. "I set myself apart by
doing that, while you set me apart by putting me on the short
list of those who aren't permitted to take part in the program."

Mom thought this over. "She has a point, Arthur. A twisted point,
but a point." 

"I've always been different," I reminded them. "I'm in the top of
the class. That alone is bad enough. I'm not pretty." 

"You are pretty. You have always been pretty, and I think maybe
Saturday night has changed some opinions around school about
that!" daddy retorted, obviously less than pleased. 

"I'm not popular," I plunged on. 

"Popularity is not everything. Top of the class is good!
Different is good! And you've got Carl," daddy pointed out. 

"And I bet your appearance at the dance has gained you some
popularity, too," mom added. 

"Not always the kind I want," I grumbled, thinking of the teasing
and snide comments I'd gotten from some people, especially the
girls. Most of them were unhappy because now their boyfriends
wanted them to go to the next dance naked. Even worse, their
boyfriends were hitting on me to go with them to the next dance
naked - I mean ME naked, going with them to the next dance. Oh,
whatever, you get the idea. 

A few have even volunteered to be naked, too. 

Very few. 

Anyway, by the time we got to the chocolate pudding, they'd given
in and agreed to request that I be chosen. 

They must have made the call the next day, because I discovered
the next Monday I'd made the top of the list. I found this out,
of course, by being called to the principal's office to undress.

I hadn't known it was coming so soon. I'd dressed that morning in
my nicest school clothes - my best white, button down, oxford
cloth, short sleeved shirt and pleated plaid skirt, penny loafers
and white socks. 

But I was not quite as nerdy as I was prior to the dance, I
admit. Underneath my nerdy best I had worn my newest underwear -
a lacy bra - not because I needed a bra, but because it was lacy
and nice - and lace panties, courtesy of a return trip to
Victoria's Secret, and no, I did NOT do the mall naked again! I
went with Carl and he even helped me pick them out! 

Of course I wore them for Carl, even though I didn't plan on him
seeing my frillies until, maybe, just maybe, after school. 

Just in case, that was. 

Maybe. 

I know, we did some hot and heavy things Saturday after the
dance, but we were both under the influence of the evening. We'd
talked about it since and vowed to try to cool things down before
we went Too Far, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I felt good
knowing I was wearing something sexy under my dull outer layers,
that there was a butterfly within this caterpillar. 

Anyway, by Monday I had sort of half forgotten the whole issue of
being naked in school, being engrossed in a paper for Chem over
the weekend, as well as Carl, of course. But here it was, less
than a week after I'd set the dominoes tumbling, I found myself
in the principal's office. 

"Take your clothes off, Miss Finch," the principal ordered,
indicating the box on the floor beside me. Two security guards
watched, as required by the rules. As I fumbled with the buttons
on my blouse, I could only ask myself how I had gotten myself
into this. 

I knew perfectly well, of course. I'm not senile yet. Though I
was thinking I had to have been demented when I set this in
motion. 

I hadn't expected it to be the next week! Now, that is! I hadn't
known it was coming this day, and I was not ready for it. I'd had
no warning, I'd been taken straight to the principal's office the
moment I'd entered school, just the way all the others were
handled. 

I hadn't even prepared Carl for this, figuring I had a week or
two to figure out the best way to break the news. This morning
I'd been spirited away from him without a word of explanation,
though I suspect he knew what was happening. But what was he
going to say when he saw me naked in school? 

I was remembering, too, the demands the program made on the
participants - how we had to obey any reasonable requests from
teachers and fellow students. Karen had set the bar pretty high
that first week when she'd been chosen, letting herself be felt
up in the hallways, and even submitting to a gang bang, and
before school, no less, on Friday, her last day. 

Oh God! I didn't have to go that far, did I? While Carl and I had
masturbated each other, and he'd eaten me to the best climax of
my short life, we were both still virgins, and I wanted my first
time to be with him, and no one else. 

I wondered if maybe we should move the timetable for that next
Big Step up a bit. 

I dropped my shirt in the box without even bothering to fold it
neatly, fighting the urge to cover my lace encased breasts with
my hands. If only I'd worn my dull old bra. Or even gone
bra-less! This one molded to my breasts, and you could even see
the shadow of my nipples through the lace. 

I hurriedly dispensed with it, feeling more comfortable with bare
breasts than I did with that seductive covering. 

"Who else is taking part this week?" I asked nervously, trying to
keep my voice steady as I dealt with the zipper of my skirt,
conscious of the way my nipples had stiffened. 

"We're not at liberty to tell you that," the principal answered.
"The identity of participants is not revealed until they leave
the office where they are being orientated." 

"Orientated," in this context, meant "stripped naked." 

And how dumb did he think the students were, anyway? These days
there was only one reason students were summoned to the offices
first thing on a Monday morning. They went in clothed, and came
out naked, and everyone knew it. Word quickly got around about
who had been summoned, and there was always a feeding frenzy
outside the offices, as a result. 

As a summonee, however, I was suddenly out of the loop. 

My skirt followed my shirt and bra, and I flushed as the
principal and the guards saw my lacy panties. 

At least I'd worn bikini cut ones, rather than the even more
revealing thongs I'd also bought! Still, they hugged my bottom
and my pussy. I'd looked at myself in the mirror that morning and
knew perfectly well that the shadow of my pussy hair showed
through the lace. 

My face got hot. 

So much for my image as miss goody two-shoes, the teachers' dream
student, never disruptive, always well prepared for class, eager
to volunteer. 

Myself (my evil twin, that is) cackled wickedly, and promised
that we were going to have some fun this week! 

Oh dear. 

Blushing furiously, I skinned my panties down and stepped out of
them, trying not to reveal any more of myself than I had to as I
did. 

In the box they went, leaving me in my penny loafers, white ankle
length socks, the gold cross on the fine gold chain around my
neck, eyeglasses, and scrunchy pony tail tie, reading from bottom
to top, as it were. 

Notice the wide gap between ankles and neck. 

In fact, I was wearing less than I'd worn to the dance. 

No gold ribbon in my pussy hair, for one thing. 

I felt very, very, very naked and made a reflexive and totally
ludicrous effort to hide my breasts and pussy with arm and hand.

I also tried to listen to the little speech the principal was
giving me, I really did, but all I could think of was that in
about two minutes everyone would be seeing the real me, and Carl
was going to know that I was going to be naked in school for the
next week! 

I suppose you're thinking it's only right. After all, hadn't he
undergone the same ordeal just week before last? 

Well yes, he had. But sometimes I think maybe this whole sexual
equality thing should be rethought. Especially by yours truly,
me. 

I shivered, goose bumps breaking out all over. 

The principal was saying something about if I got my period, and
I desperately reviewed my calendar in my mind, and heaved a sigh
of relief. At least I wouldn't be walking around with a tampon
string dangling from me like some sort of a fuse or rip-cord!
Ick! 

"Any questions, Miss Finch?" the principal asked, in a tone that
indicated he was repeating the question in an effort to penetrate
my dazed brain. 

I'd read the manual when Carl had been on the spot - same manual
for boys and girls - practically memorized it, in fact. No
secrets between the sexes any longer. "Uh, nosir," I assured him.
"No questions." 

He was, I couldn't help noticing, enjoying the sight of me. "I'm
sure," he went on, "you will comport yourself with dignity and
good humor. So far, the ladies, and the gentlemen, have performed
admirably. I'm sure you'll do fine." 

"Yessir," I agreed, feeling a dazed numbness settle over me like
a fog. 

"Time to go, Miss Finch, or you'll be late for your first class,"
he announced cheerily. "Your clothes will be awaiting you outside
the North Entrance. When you come to school the rest of this week
you will disrobe there before entering the building, placing your
clothes in the drop box," he reminded me. 

"Yessir." Dazed, I turned toward the door. 

I emerged to a wave of applause and whistles, and the sight of
Carl in the front row. His expression? Well, that's hard to say.
He was glad to see me, and he obviously was GLAD to SEE ME, as
the bulge in his jeans made perfectly obvious. 

What's that old joke? Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you
glad to see me? 

On the other hand, I could see, too, that he was less than
ecstatic at the idea of having to share me with the rest of the
student population for the rest of the week. And how would he
react the first time I had to respond to a "reasonable request"
from someone? 

"Hi," I greeted him shyly, chewing my lower lip to ribbons. 

"Hi." He took my hand, when what I really wanted was him to wrap
his arm around me. "You okay?" 

I shivered again. "I'll live, I think." The bell rang. "I've got
to get to Chem class." 

"See you in French," he assured me, handing me my book bag. He'd
even insisted on carrying my books to school, the silly romantic!


"You sure will," I managed to joke as we parted and I joined the
herd. I noticed that some went out of their way to void bumping
into me, while others seemed to take every opportunity for
contact with some portion of my naked anatomy. 

I was scared and embarrassed, but there was one other feeling I
can't deny, no matter how hard I tried. 

I was horny. 

Horny, horny, horny. 

I admit, that was a word I'd not really known the meaning of
until I'd first kissed, really kissed, Carl, that evening we'd
taken a walk, him naked and me clothed. 

Now, for the next week, it was me naked and him clothed. 

Then, at the dance we'd danced naked, and afterwards, at home,
we'd necked naked, and petted naked, and he'd - he'd eaten me out
naked, and I'd - well, I'd had an orgasm that topped any I'd ever
had before, which wasn't many anyway. 

But now that I knew what an orgasm could be, well, okay, I
confess, I wanted more. And here I was, a walking, naked
invitation to every horny male in school, plus a few females who
were - uh - differently inclined, and I wasn't sure I'd could
turn them all down! 

Oh God. Already I felt my pussy threatening to burst into tears.

After two weeks of the program, people were getting a bit more
used to seeing students naked. I was greeted in my first period
Chem class with snickers from some of the few girls in the class,
with whistles and applause from the boys, but that was it. 

Chemistry, at least, was not a class where the teacher would use
me for a live demonstration. I heard that Karen's adventures in
her bio class had been - uh - tres outre, as the French might
say, complete with whips, chains and butt plugs! 

Trying to ignore the ogling, I lowered myself into my seat, and
winced at the chill. I will say that if this program continues
they really must do something about the chairs. They are COLD! 

What's worse, after you've sat in one for a while there's a
tendency to stick to it. Maybe they could issue participants
cushions to carry around with them. As it is, the academic world
is simply not properly furnished for this program! 

Mercifully, the teacher decided on a lab session, which meant I
could don a lab jacket which, on me, came to mid-thigh. It wasn't
much, but it was better than nothing, as long as I was careful.
If I had to pick something up off the floor or get it down from a
high shelf I'd give a show, no doubt. 

The way the air toyed with my naked pussy and butt, though, was a
constant reminder of my nakedness beneath the jacket. Also, it
was rough, starchy cotton, rougher even than my usual shirts, and
it scraped my nipples, bringing them to a constant stated of
erection. After a while it felt like my titties were ablaze. 

Believe me, even with that jacket on I was extra careful as I
handled things like sulfuric acid! I had to concentrate extra
hard, too, because one part of my mind wouldn't stay off my next
class, which was French, with Mademoiselle Duclos. 

What if she used me the way she had used Carl, for another of her
slang vocab lessons? Would she stand me up in front of the whole
class naked while she named the exposed parts of my anatomy? 

I'd die! 

When the bell ending chemistry rang, I shivered as I slipped off
the lab coat, baring myself once again. I'd been so distracted by
my worries and the simple mechanics I'd not paid any attention at
all to the lessons, and Chem was my toughest subject! 

If this kept up my grades would plunge. 

Well, my evil twin noted, that would be one way to fit in better
around here. 

Not at the expense of my education, I retorted angrily. 

As I made my way through the halls I was intensely aware of every
passing glance, every look, every stare, every grin and wink. I
was dreading the first time someone, boy or girl, came up to me
and asked for a feel. I hunched, wanting to huddle into a ball
that revealed nothing. I couldn't help thinking of how inadequate
I was, physically - small breasted, with not much in the way of
hips, a little, barely concealing patch of hair between my
thighs. 

I wasn't skinny! I was petite, with a little bit of an adipose
layer to soften my curves, conceal my ribs. I just wasn't - uh -
voluptuous. 

Oh, I know Carl thought I was beautiful, or at least he had told
me I was when I'd shed my coat at the dance. But that night he'd
been naked, too, and mom had helped make the most of my limited
assets. My hair had been done elegantly up, and she'd even made
up my body. But now, well, it was just me. No adornments, no
makeup, nothing between me and all those staring eyes. 

No Carl. 

"Hi!" Carl greeted me. 

"Oh, hi," I mumbled, having almost crashed headlong into him
outside Mademoiselle Duclos' classroom. 

"Are you all right?" he asked. 

I tried to say I was, but shook my head, my throat knotting up.
"No, I'm not. I'm naked, and everyone else is dressed." 

He touched my cheek, tipped my head up so he could look down into
my eyes. "You're beautiful," he assured me, and he was so warm
and so tender with me that I wanted to leap into his arms.
"You'll be all right," he insisted. "I was all right, and you're
braver than I am." 

"No I'm not," I protested. 

He wouldn't hear it. "You are. You went to the dance naked, when
you didn't need to. That was brave!" 

I wanted to say it was stupid, only I knew it hadn't been. That
had been the most wonderful night of my life! I remembered how
proudly he had walked me to the dance floor, and felt better. I
remembered the envy in the eyes of some of the girls as they'd
studied me, the desire the boys had shown. 

I remembered the feeling of being in his arms, and my arousal
skyrocketed. 

Down boy! I told my libido irritably. You're not helping things.

"Let's go," Carl said, gently urging me through the door. 

"But what if she...." 

"If she does, she does," he answered. "Try to enjoy it. Go with
the flow." 

God bless the state! I was spared humiliation by a special study
session for the standardized tests we had coming up in a week.
Oh, I was still naked, but at least I was at my desk, not on
display. 

And I did NOT volunteer for ANYTHING! Not one answer! I wasn't
about to do anything to draw attention to myself. Besides, all I
had to do was breathe, or shift in my chair to do that. I was
such a distraction I felt badly for the other kids, but what
could I do? 

From French it was on to math, with Carl escorting me. And it was
then that I got the next big shock of the day, partly because my
mind was more on the feel of Carl next to me, warm and comforting
as I clutched his arm to my naked breast. 

He was telling me something about the first day being the worst,
and I was trying to believe him, when he broke off that thought.
"Uh oh.. You are not going to believe this!" 

"What?" I looked up, and caught sight of what I thought for a
moment was a bear walking on its hind legs ahead of us. Then I
realized it was the back of a very hairy, very naked male
student. The only place he wasn't very hairy were the pale white
cheeks of his ass. Something about that shape, and all that hair
made me think of .... 

"OhmyGod! Is that...?" 

"Freschetti," Carl said softly in amazement. 

"He's in the program?!" I whispered, afraid the subject of our
comments might hear us. 

"Either that, or someone has shaved a bear's butt and trained it
to carry books," Carl suggested. 

"Oh wow!" My own troubles were forgotten. Poor Freschetti! He'd
already humiliated himself in math class when Carl had done his
stint naked, the same class we were now walking to. Mr. F. had
made a derogatory comment about Carl's genital endowments, which,
incidentally, are more than adequate, visually and tactilely (the
only experience I have with them - so far). 

Unfortunately for Mr. F., the teacher, Miss Gallison, had
overheard and had made Freschetti bare his equipment to the
class. He was thus exposed as one of the lesser endowed males in
school. Now Freschetti was showing everyone in school how the
great jock had a penis no one could envy! 

I didn't need to see his face to know what his expression
probably was. Something out of a slasher movie comes to mind.
There was a space at least two yards radius that no one would
venture into as he moved down the center of the hallway, stiff
legged, muscles bulging, fists balled. You could see the crowd
parting ahead of him, pressing back against the walls. There was
finger pointing, whispers and titters once he passed them, but
not before. 

"Oh wow," I repeated. Even though Freschetti was the worst male
chauvinist pig in school, even though he was a bully and had been
a thorn in Carl's side during Carl's week on display, I felt a
wave of sympathy for the big ape. 

"It's going to be an interesting week," Carl observed softly as
we followed Freschetti to Miss Gallison's classroom. Carl
politely ushered me through the door, into a deafening silence as
Freschetti made his way to his desk in the back row. I tried to
be as unobtrusive as possible as I went to my seat (front row
center, of course) and Carl peeled off to his third row venue. 

There was the sound of desks and chairs being scraped over the
floor behind me. I didn't need to look back to know that
Freschetti's neighbors were trying to distance themselves from
him. 

I couldn't tell if Miss Gallison had a twinkle in her eye as she
looked Freschetti over or not. For me she offered what I took to
be a sympathetic smile, though. And, perhaps, even an
appreciative look? I felt a little qualm, worrying that she might
hit on me, then chided myself for even thinking it. 

Oh, sure, she's gay. Everyone knows that. But she's in a
committed relationship with a woman who works in the school
office, and has never, to my knowledge, ever made a play 
for a student. I wish I could say the same for some of the male
faculty. I was not looking forward to History class! 

Then the bell rang and class began. 

"Ah, Mr. Freschetti," Miss Gallison began, "are you in need of
relief?" 

"No," he grunted. I hadn't realized a monosyllable could be so
short - sort of like a mathematical point, if you know what I
mean. 

"Very well, perhaps you'd like to come up and put the solution to
the first problem in today's homework up on the board, please,
Mr. Freschetti?" she asked. 

Oh dear. She was not going to cut him an inch of slack, I could
see that! 

There was a breathless hush as I, along with everyone else,
waited for some sort of explosion. I didn't see anyone on either
side of me looking back to see how Freschetti was taking this.
None of us dared! 

Then I heard his chair go back, and the entire room seemed to
heave a sigh of relief. 

His sneakers squeaked on the floor as he made his way to the
front of the classroom, brushing my arm as he passed me. 

I flinched. 

Holding his notebook in one hand, he picked up a marker and began
setting the problem out on the white board in his usual primitive
scrawl, keeping his back resolutely to the class as he did. 

Even the crack of his ass was hairy! Ick! 

Tearing my eyes off his hirsute body, I studied his work on the
board, and groaned silently. He'd made an elementary mistake in
the second line, and from there everything else simply went
farther and farther awry. 

Finishing, he turned to face the class, holding his notebook
defensively in front of his crotch. Miss Gallison gave him a
long, hard look. After she cleared her throat, he flinched, and
dropped the notebook to his side, flushing as he did. 

The rules did not allow him to cover himself with anything, and
he knew it. 

Not that there was much to hide. 

If he'd been blushing any harder everyone in the first four rows
would have gotten a lethal dose of radiation. As it was, I swore
off any X-rays for the next year. 

Miss Gallison gave a sigh. "Would anyone care to come up and
critique Mr. Freschetti's work?" 

Now, I must tell you, I tried. I really, really tried. I even sat
on my hands! But it was to no avail. The silence went on and on,
and that little demon inside me refused to be thwarted. It could
not bear the silence. 

My hand went up, sort of like a rusty puppet's, in fits and
starts. 

"Yes, Miss Finch?" 

I tried to stay in my seat. "Uh, there's an error in the second
line, I believe?" I ventured timidly. 

Miss Gallison held out her marker. "Would you care to come up and
show us, please?" 

Oh God, no. Not me, up there, naked, in front of the whole class,
pointing out - pointing out Freschetti's error to him while he
stood there, right beside me, just as naked and vulnerable and
embarrassed and exposed as I was. Please no! I was an instant
Popsicle, icy fear-sweat breaking out all over my naked body.  

Miss Gallison cocked an eyebrow expectantly at me, and I managed
to pry myself out of my seat, my bottom flesh parting from the
molded plastic seat with a tearing sound. 

I moved up beside him, and I could feel the heat radiating from
him. I'm not sure what sitting next to a working nuclear reactor
would feel like, but this was as close as I ever want to get to
that experience, believe me!

As gently as I could, I nudged him aside so I could get to the
white board and fix his mistake. His skin was hot, and I realized
he was the second naked boy I'd touched in less than a week. If
I'd had a choice, it would have been someone else. I'm not sure
who, but anyone but him. 

I was terrified as I explained where he'd gone wrong and fixed
the error. 

He never moved. Never twitched. It was as if he were made of
stone - lava - as I went down through the rest of the problem,
carrying through the correction to the end. 

I was so concerned about Freschetti, I almost forgot that I, too,
was naked as a jaybird up there in front of the whole class. 

Almost. 

Once I was done, it took everything I had to turn to face all
those people, showing them everything I had. I had no secrets
from them any more. They could see the mole on my left breast,
just below the nipple. There was another, low on my tummy, just
above my little patch of hair. 

That little patch of hair. It wasn't very big, and there wasn't
very much of it. I knew my labia showed through it. Insanely, I
wished I'd taken the time to comb it before I'd emerged from the
principal's office. 

"Very good, Miss Finch," Miss Gallison complimented me. I saw
Carl give me a "thumbs up" gesture and an encouraging smile. 

I couldn't help wondering - was he hard? How many of the other
boys were hard? It gave me a strange sense of power to realize I
might be having that effect on the whole male population of the
room. 

I handed the marker back to Miss Gallison and went to my place,
heaving a silent sigh of relief as I sank down into my seat. I
wanted to put my head down on my desk, but Miss Gallison kept a
supply of small, hard rubber erasers at hand to deal with
students given to sleeping in class. Playing third base on her
college softball team she had picked off runners at first with
ease, so nailing a dozing student, even in the back row, was a
duck shoot for her, as Freschetti knew all too well. 

Freschetti still hadn't moved. I wondered if he'd been turned
into stone, or maybe just entered a catatonic state. 

I felt sorry for him. I really did! Here was this great, hulking
athlete, star running back, Big Man On Campus, standing naked in
front of the whole class. More humiliating than having his work
corrected by me, a girl, no less, was the blatant exposure of his
less than impressive endowments. 

Miss Gallison finally released him from his torment, and he
headed back to his seat, brushing past me again. His groin was at
about my eye level, and I couldn't help staring at his cock,
peering almost shyly from a thick forest of black hair. 

I still wasn't sure he was hard, and that sent my mind off on
another mad tangent, wondering if anyone had ever done study of
the ratio of the size of the erect cock to its - uh - flaccid
state. Did small penises expand proportionately more, or was
there any relationship? 

It wasn't anything I was likely to be able to research in high
school, but maybe I could get a college or med school paper out
of it. 

The thought of researching such a study gave me a little frisson
of excitement. 

And what government department would give a grant for such a
study, do you suppose? Would it be the Department of Health and
Human Services? Maybe the FDA would need a study to regulate
condom sizes? 

You can see, I was already thinking like a med student. 

Well, sort of. I will not attempt to claim that my interest was
purely academic. 



-- 
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