Monday morning I was looking forward to seeing the now-teenaged Nick. I had shaved eight years off his life and I was eager to see what effect that would have on him.
I didn't have to wait long. Nick appeared in the doorway, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He wore a jersey with baggy jeans and boots. His blond hair was slicked down to his scalp. He really was dressing the part.
The topic of discussion for class today was, not coincidentally, being a teenager in America. It's fascinating to contemplate the jockeying for position on the social ladder during the teenage years. Boys typically join a sporting team in order to show physical prowess. Girls are encouraged to baby-sit younger children--becoming caregivers. Boys are taught to be aggressive and pursue potential partners. Girls are encouraged to be demure and ladylike. Despite social criticism that reflects a change in these attitudes, the reality of suburban America is still a gender-based landmine. The boy who exhibits a talent for theater, or a flair for dressing, or--horror of horrors--a lack of interest in sports and cars is often chastised with cruel taunts about his sexuality.
After class Nick waited for me, as had become his habit. I packed my notes into my attaché.
"How are you, Nick?"
"Glad to hear it. How's rehearsal going for your show?"
"It's fun. Every night though."
We walked down the stairs and out of the building. It was a crisp autumn day. The leaves had changed color and the campus was at its most beautiful.
We strolled toward my office.
Nick pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out. It dangled from his lip as he fished a lighter from his pocket. In one fluid move he snapped the lighter and lit the cigarette.
"I didn't realize you smoke."
He shrugged. "I did in high school."
He kept the cigarette in his mouth as he spoke.
I hadn't foreseen this complication. His regression to high school combined with his heightened oral stage had produced a desire for cigarettes. That wouldn't do. Athletic, cycling Nick could not be a smoker. I'd have to nip this behavior in the bud.
Inside my office Nick slouched in his usual chair. His baggy jeans hung low; the crotch of the denim nearing his knees as he sat. Strange how a young man with a bent for Lycra would choose such oversized clothing. The jeans were rolled up over his clunky boots--untied of course.
I poured a cup of coffee and sat at my desk. "Tell me, Nick, any input about today's lecture?"
He shrugged. "Guys play sports. Girls bake and baby-sit and do their hair. That's pretty much how it is."
"Do you think that's a good way for things to be?"
"I guess. I mean that's life, right?"
I had the distinct impression that teenaged Nick's vocabulary and expression was hampered a bit by his current mental state. I'd proceed with him in a trance.
Nick's head nodded forward.
"Tell me about your week, Nick. What happened when you went to sleep last Monday?"
"I had a dream. Men were wearing spandex. When I woke up my shorts were wet. I was real embarrassed.
"What happened the next night?"
"You've been having wet dreams every night?"
"Excellent. You're developing quickly. Have you been eating healthily?""
"Drinking lots of milk?"
"Riding your bike?"
"Excellent. Why are you smoking?"
"It's cool. And I like having something in my mouth."
"Nick, you will find smoking distasteful. The next cigarette you smoke will taste worse than anything you have ever put in your mouth. It will be so disgusting that the thought of smoking another cigarette will make you feel ill. Is that clear?"
"For now you may stick with lollipops to satisfy your oral cravings. I understand that they are becoming stronger as you grow. But your evolution is slowing down, Nick. You are now sixteen years old. The world has changed for you. You are still attracted to women. But men sexually entice you also. Everywhere you go you are attracted to people. And they are attracted to you. You are a beautiful young man."
Nick was breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling under the jersey.
"You are also horny. Your sexual desire is growing with you. It is ever-present in your mind. You will find that when you are wearing spandex you think of sex constantly. You will look for attractive men and women to stimulate you. You will have your wet dreams every night. Your body will produce more and more sperm in order to keep up with your increasing sexual activity. The act of putting on spandex will arouse you. Wearing your spandex will become an intensely sexual experience for you. Any time Lycra enters the picture it will excite you. Your penis will become engorged with blood, lengthening, hardening. Your thoughts will flow to sex. You will become erect at the sight of lycra."
A sudden thought occurred to me. "Stand, Nick."
He got heavily to his feet.
"Lower your jeans."
He unbuttoned his jeans. They slid down his thighs. He was wearing blue shorts under them. His hard dick was strapped to his left thigh by the spandex.
"Nick, did you ever study the concept of perpetual motion?"
"What is it?"
"An object in motion stays in motion."
"Excellent. Nick, this week, when you are wearing your spandex, and you become aroused, your hand will become ruled by the law of perpetual motion. You will find that it begins to stroke your erect penis, continually staying in motion until you reach ejaculation. You will do this in secret so that nobody notices what your hand is doing. Is that clear?
"Think of spandex. Picture yourself wearing it. Feel it against your skin."
Nick's right hand floated over to his hard member. He began to stroke up and down the shaft. Up and down.
"Excellent. You will find that this happens all week, Nick. You may stop stroking now." I didn't want him to climax while in my office. It would take more explaining than I cared to do.
His hand drifted to his side.
"Pull up your pants, Beach Boy."
He fastened his jeans. His posture straightened slightly.
"How old are you, Beach Boy?"
"Do you have any questions about anything we've discussed?"
"Excellent. Nick, this time you are open to both sexes. You will feel more powerfully drawn to sex this week. You will be filled with desire whenever you encounter Lycra or spandex."
I took out my camera and documented Puberty Nick's mode of dress. I was anxious to see where sixteen-year-old Nick would go from here.
"I will count to three and you will awaken. You will stop smoking today. You will integrate all that we've discussed into your life. Is that clear?"
Nick looked up.
"This was a very productive afternoon, Nick. Thanks for your help."
"And you still have time for a ride before rehearsal. It's a beautiful day out."
Feminism and feminine behavior are two separate topics that seem to overlap from a Psychology & Gender standpoint. Today's lecture would delve into the distinctions.
The class seemed to be straggling in today. It was the midpoint of the semester, and their midterm essays were due this morning. I had decided that in a class of this type the midterm should be a writing assignment open to the class materials. This was an opportunity for the students to demonstrate what they've learned thus far and what interested them. I was curious to see what Nick's essay would delve into.
He hurried in just before time. He still wore boots and baggy jeans, but the top half of his body was covered in a tight T-shirt. Not spandex, but probably as close as he could get to it without having to stroke himself continually. His pants hung low as he clumped to his desk.
Nick was swigging milk from a carton throughout class. This "growing" boy had a voracious appetite. I attempted to watch his hands throughout my lecture, but it's difficult to teach and spy on one student's movements. Occasionally I thought I saw his hand snake to his lap.
Once the last of my students had left the room I leaned on the podium and looked at Nick.
"You seem a bit distracted today."
"Huh?" He looked a bit sheepish. "Oh, I was just thinking."
"Anything you'd like to share?"
He shook his head.
Nick's eyes closed.
"Open your eyes, Nick. You're sixteen-years-old and horny. Let's walk to my office."
He got to his feet and shouldered his bag, then walked across campus with me. His left hand was thrust deep into his pocket.
In my office we sat in our usual places. I snapped two frames of him seated in his teenage outfit, then proceeded.
"Nick, how was your week?"
"Anything interesting happen?"
"Really? Tell me about it."
"Marty had a bunch of us guys over to his place. We were drinkin' and smokin'--"
"Did you smoke?"
Nick's face contorted. "No."
"TV was on and everybody had pretty much passed out. I was watching in the chair. Marty's roommate came out of his bedroom. Marty was on the couch. His roommate unzipped his pants real slowly. I couldn't believe it. Then he started to suck Marty's dick.
"He did? What did you do?"
"Nothing. I watched."
"How did you feel seeing Marty's roommate with Marty's penis in his mouth?"
"I wanted to try it."
"And then I started feeling really horny. So I started strokin'."
"You sat and watched and you masturbated?"
Nick had become a voyeur somewhere along the line. Interesting. "What did Marty do?"
"Marty woke up screaming. He chased Mike out the door."
"How did you feel about that?"
"Because Marty made it out like it was wrong to be with a man."
I nodded. Excellent. "Nick, did you go cycling this week?"
"What happened when you got ready to cycle?"
"I changed to my spandex." As he said it his hand drifted to his crotch and began to massage slowly through the denim.
"What happened then?"
"I got really hard."
"What did you do?"
"I stroked my dick."
"Excellent. Anything else?"
"After Mike left I went looking for him."
"Did you find him?"
"Yeah. He was running. I drove. He ran to a house. A man let him in. I tried to look in the window."
"What did you see?"
"A man was talking to Mike. He was telling him everything was okay and he shouldn't try to suck his friends."
My antenna rose. Was it possible that there was a man in this very town also experimenting with the human mind? It was probably innocent. Perhaps Marty's roommate had a relative or friend nearby to console him. I frowned. There was one way to find out.
"Nick, this week you will keep an eye on Mike. Attempt to discover the identity of the man in the house. Is that clear?"
This was an unexpected digression. It was time to return to today's lesson. "Nick, were you paying attention to our class discussion today?"
"I was thinking."
"Men wearing spandex."
That was an honest answer. Though Nick really didn't have the option of lying to me when he was in this state. "Basically we discussed feminist behavior and feminine behavior. Stereotypical feminine behavior includes extreme emotionality, daintiness or fragility, irrationally changing one's mind, and passive-aggressiveness. Is that clear?"
"Tell me some more female stereotypes."
"They cry a lot. And they are afraid a lot. And they don't play rough. Everything's romantic. And they spend a lot of time getting ready to look nice."
"Excellent, Nick. Can you picture an extremely stereotype woman in your head?"
"See her clearly: how she walks, how she talks, how she acts and reacts, how she looks and dresses. Do you see her?"
"Nick, this week you will exhibit al stereotypical feminine behavior. Your voice and your body will become an instrument for feminine conduct. You will walk, talk, act and react in a stereotypically feminine manner. Your emotions will be heightened and you will feel everything deeply. Is that clear?"
"You will become the woman you saw in your mind. This will seem natural and right to you. You enjoy behaving like a stereotypical female. You will continue to be attracted to both women and men. Spandex is growing increasingly sexual to you. You will wear it more freely. Do you have any questions?"
Nick opened his eyes.
I had left him as a teenage stereotypical woman. What affects would this have on his personality? How would he behave? How would his friends react? I was looking forward to answering these questions.
"Is it time already, Damian?" Nick asked.
"Yes. The afternoon has passed quickly."
"I'd better get going. I have to work out a bit before rehearsal." Nick stood up. He seemed to waver slightly on his feet.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes--I--um." He stopped and smiled. "I'm fine." He picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Goodbye."
I watched as he walked out the office door, his ass wiggling in his baggy jeans. This week would be a remarkable experience for Nick.