Cia

Being a NOC in the CIA is tough but you should send Nifty a nifty check so that you can read my life's true story

The coach singled me out once again, snapping me out of my attempt to touch reality for a second. He barked loudly "What a surprise! Of course it was YOU that was last to line up; you're also NOT at attention!" I knew that explaining and defending myself would only feed his need to crush me further so I remained quiet. "Last boy in line owes the class ten and is usually a towel boy for the day, but Mr tiiiimmmmy Lobb and Mr Keith Benson have already earned that honor for today, we'll make your towel boy day ...an-uh... IOU. Mr Kline, front and center if you please." I ran out, all bedraggled-looking, sporting my mismatched shoes and socks, a ripped up and yellowed T shirt, and my torn droopy gym shorts that I had to hold up with my hand. There was a massive tear on the right side of my gym shorts that was in the shape of a sideways V. The beginning of the V was a horizontal rip that started just a couple of inches from the seam in front an inch below what used to be the elastic band. It extended around my side over the top of my butt cheek and went about thee quarters of the way around my ass cheek; nearly to the other seam at that was above my ass crack. At that point the tear then turned 90 degrees and went straight down for about 4 inches; right to the lower hem. The result was a triangular flap of cloth that wanted to fall down exposing my entire thigh and most of my right ass cheek. It wasn't a terrible problem because I was able to hold the flap closed with the same hand I was using to grasp the top of the gym shorts and jock so that they wouldn't fall down. The coach had me dressed worse than any beggar. Now he singled me out and made me stand, not only in front of our class but near the middle of the room so that all of the classes including the girls, could get a good view of my degradation. I could tell he was planning on humiliating me again but this time in front of 100s of kids; now including girls.

"Well you've had some recent practice at this Mr Kline" he bellowed so everyone could hear. "Shall we see if you've learned anything? PUSH UP POSITION!" Since I was facing the coach when I had run out I had my back to the class. When I dropped to the floor and was laying on my chest I was facing away from the kids in my class. I let go of my jock and gym shorts as they couldn't fall but, since I was laying on the floor, the flap of torn cloth flopped open and you could hear all the girls go "oooohhhh" as they could now see my asscheek and thigh. There was nothing I could do about that so I ignored it but now, but I realized that, I should have pointed my head towards the boys in my class instead; so that the rip was pointed away from the girls. I wasn't sure if he wanted split legged pushups or regular pushups. I decided that split legged push ups were probably a bit of a secret, meant just for the naked new boy in the locker-room, so that everyone could see his asshole and his hairless cock and balls and laugh at his little body. Since I had these gym shorts on, such as they are, no one could see my private parts. If I did a split legged push up, and it was a secret locker room thing, I would look stupid. Since I have never heard of them before, and didn't want to look stupid, I got into the regular push up position; but I was wrong. The Coach barked "Can't you remember anything Mr Adam Kline? Aren't you supposed to be some sort of super genius boy? SPREAD THOSE LEGS!" I instantly complied. It really wasn't that big of a deal since I was covered; except for my leg and ass cheek. "UP...Down...1, Up...down...2..." and on went the cadence. Uninterrupted this time, unlike the last time, when contrived form failures made me start over and over again. These 10 push ups were a breeze. No starting over, no belt buckles to the ass, and no licking the floor. At various points, part way through my push-ups, I was joined by eight other kids. I realized there was one from each class, except for one class, where apparently there was a tie for last place. We were all in the center of the room, all doing split legged push ups, but each to the count of their respective coach, which was chaotic sounding, but I was able to lock onto Coach Bates voice over the others because he was so much closer to me. This sort of explained the frenzied fire drill to get from the locker room to the their numbers. "...Up... Down...10! ok... back to your number Kline!" I grabbed my shorts and jock and pulled the torn flap back to the closed position, stood up, ran back to my numbers and dutifully put one foot on 3 and one on 1. I soon understood why each coach was counting for their own boy, the Sophomores had to do 15 push ups, the Juniors counted all the way to 20 and the Seniors went on up to 25.

Coach Bates then barked "jock check today gentlemen"! I heard one boy say "fuuuuck" super quietly and saw a faint smile on coach Bates lips. When I went to high school 40 years ago I had never heard of a jock check, so I had no idea what it was or what to do at first. I quickly saw ALL of the boys pull their gym shorts down the right side of their hip. I caught on and followed suit. Everyone had pulled down their gym shorts not only exposing the waistband but all the way down exposing the lower strap of their jock. This was interesting I thought to my adult self! The coach was coercing a bunch of 14 year old boys to expose their bare ass cheek for all the girls to see. I looked down the row of high school boys and saw the side of 30 boys legs and asscheeks as they had pulled their gym shorts halfway down their leg and thought what a pervert. The coach quickly walked down the length of the line, with his clipboard in hand, inspecting each boy, reprimanding nearly everyone while they stood with their asses exposed, and in a few cases punishing some boys. He mercilessly reprimanded one boy because his shirt was not clean, which looked pretty bright white to me certainly when compared to mine, and gave him 5 laps. Another boy didn't pull his shorts down far enough so the coach made him drop the shorts to the floor; where he left them. Again the girls went "oooohhhh". This boy's T shirt was long enough that there wasn't a lot to see. Now I see why the boys pulled their shorts down so far; they didn't want to have to drop them. One boy wasn't wearing a jock; just his underwear. I instantly, at that moment, realized that he was the boy that quietly had said "fuuuuuuck" earlier. He also had to drop his shorts, step out of them, leave them right there on the floor, run back to the locker room, ask another coach for a jock from the lost and found, do 10 pushups, and be back on his numbers in 5 min. Again the girls went "oooohhhh" but this boy's T shirt was also longish and covered up most of him. I noticed a theme. All the boys had stretched out the t-shirts. Even though everyone's t-shit was tucked in to the gym shorts the jock check showed how long their shirts had been stretched to. He used his hands to pull the shirt further down in both the front and back as he ran. The coach berated a number of kids for their posture, to stand up straight or look forward or cover their number better with their feet. Some got pushups others got squat thrusts, some jumping jacks and some got laps for their imperfections.

When the coach finally got to me he first berated me for the condition of my shoes, which were indeed ratty. They didn't match in style, color (one was off white the other white), or even size(one was close to my size at 6 and the other was way to big at size 8), but it was him that gave them to me. The coach worked his way up my body complaining about my sloppy socks, one that was all white, well gray, and one that had had turned more yellow than gray, the gym shorts being dirty and yellow with a rip on one side. I had pulled the waistband of my gym shorts pulled all the way down my ass cheek, as I didn't want to have to drop the shorts like the other kids had to. I knew that since all I had on under the shorts was this stretched-out, overly large, ratty, old jock strap and if I was ordered to drop my gym shorts, that it might be difficult to let go of one and not the other, and as a result have them both fall to the floor. I also knew that this rag of a T shirt, which had the lower two thirds ripped off couldn't cover my crotch like it had the done for the other kids, even if stretched to its ripping point it would barely pull down to cover my nips. At that point I realized that having the lower two thirds of my t-shirt ripped off was setting me up. To ensure I wasn't ordered to drop my gym shorts I pulled them way down my hip exposing the waistband and strap of the jock completely, but apparently not enough for the coach. I wasn't surprised. Of course I hadn't pulled my gym shorts down far enough for him. I was of course directed to drop my gym shorts to the floor, which was easy since they were maybe four inches too big anyway, and there was no stretch left in the elastic. I was the second boy required to drop his shorts stand there in just a jock. Luckily for the other boys who lost their gym shorts, their T shirts were long enough to cover their ass mostly; but most decidedly mine wouldn't afford me that same privacy. I carefully loosened my grip on the shorts and tried to get my fingers to let go of one type of cloth while holding on to the other. My attempt was in vein, both dropped but my hand quickly regrasped the jock, and pulled it back into place. For the fourth time I got to hear the girls go "oooohhhh"; the second time at me. My entire bare butt and legs were now fully exposed. The boy that had been wearing underwear was now running back across the room in his borrowed jock which distracted all of the girls from me to him as they tried to get a little glimpse of his bare ass. But again his shirt was pretty long, and with it pulled down in front and back, it provided him a great degree of privacy; although the girls still went "oooohhhhh" for a 5th time. When he got back in line he immediately stuck his feet through the gym shorts but left them on the floor. For me there was the added problem that this jock was 5 inches to big, again with no elastic stretch any more, and I was holding them up with one hand. My ratty old T shirt wouldn't cover my chest let alone my bare butt so it was left hanging out for everyone to see, but if I lost the jock, well, I would be naked for EVERYONE to see.

The coach continued his appraisal of me and was now adjusting my posture. He didn't appreciate the fact that my arms weren't both straight to my sides as one hand was holding up the jock; which he could plainly see. "Hands at your sides KLINE!" So I figured that I would have to kind of pin the waistband of my jock to my hips with my forearms so they wouldn't fall down; but I would have to do it quickly before they fell. I let go of the jock and, sure enough, before I could pin it against my hip it had started to fall and was about mid hip before I could get it pinned there with my wrist. Now my jock hung at a jaunty angle. The left side had stayed, as it was pinned by my forearm that hadn't moved holding it on that side just above my hip. But on my right side, facing the girls, it had fallen all the way to below my hip before my wrist pinned it again. I could feel my cock and balls hanging but I had hoped that they were somewhat hidden by the pouch. Then I heard "ooooohhhh once again. I knew I was exposed. I was sure because there was a little twinkle in the coach's eyes. I knew he had gotten what he wanted. I also knew that his list of punishment exercises for all of my infractions was going to be ginormous and would result in me being buck naked but I wasn't going to give up without a fight. The coach had assigned other boys jumping jacks, squat thrusts, sprints and other exercises for slightly dirty or not pressed gym gear. Mine was in so so much worse condition, and because mine needed to be actively held to keep them on me, it those exercises would result in a catastrophic disaster for me especially if I was assigned jumping jacks or squat thrusts; which I knew was the plan all along. As I was standing there with my cock and balls showing and my ass clear for the room to see I felt a wave of humiliation pour over me. The coach then gave me shit about the condition of the jock and then a pissload of crap about the third of my T shirt that was still there which was also ripped in at least 10 other places. It was smelly, and really not even a rag. Two of the rips were over my pecs strategically placed so my nipples we exposed. The coach had to publicly comment on them "were your little nipples wanting to come out and have a look around Mr. Kline?" "No Coach, the rips were just there coach" I responded. He had to continue "Those are the smallest little boy nipples I have ever seen Kline... so tiny".

There were also two long vertical rips that went up the sides of my chest right up to seem under my arm pits. These two tears left me effectively with two capes; one that sort of covered my chest and one that covered my back. The other holes were distributed over what remained of the shirt. He bitched that I should stand up straight. I read on his face that he knew that I knew that he was going to fuck with me; that he had set this all up. He knew I knew it. He saw it in my eyes and I saw it in his. I then, like an epiphany, realized what he wanted. He wanted me to cry. He wanted to embarrass me until I broke down in front of the class and went into a fetal ball laying on the floor and cried like a baby. He had no idea that I am really an adult man, and not a fragile kid, and wasn't about to break down nor cry. I was embarrassed standing there holding up my jock with my forearm and wrist with my ass showing and my cock and balls exposed and there was nothing I could do about it. He kept correcting my posture making it hard to keep this ratty old jock pinned to my hips. "Chest OUT, arms back, back further, feet together, move back till your toes just touch the line, eyes forward..., and on and on. I didn't dare try to pull my jock up each time it slipped down a bit while I was at attention and each slip left more of my cock and balls exposed. I kept fearing that my cock or my balls would fall out of the pouch. I knew he was going to keep manipulating me until I lost the pressure and the jock strap and they joined my gym shorts laying at my feet. I kept waiting for the order to do laps or push up or squat thrusts or jumping jacks for my disheveled appearance. But I wasn't about crumple, at least not without a fight. I was certain that even if I kept them up that jumping jacks and squat thrusts would result in me being fully naked in front of everyone, but fuck it, I wasn't going down without a fight. Amazingly he stopped and I had no idea why. Then I felt a tear run down my cheek. Then I felt another one run down my other cheek - I WAS crying. I steeled myself not to cry, yet I was crying non the less. No punishments were levied against me, so my jock stayed in place; even if it was at a weird angle. But he had won; he made me cry. Of course he announced it loudly. Standing there bare assed, cock and balls exposed, my jock, such as it was, pinned on both sides by my forearm and wrist, with 100s of kids and coaches watching I started to cry. Nothing like taking the opportunity to kick a helpless kid when he was down, the coach then very loudly, called me a cry baby and asked if I wanted my mommy. His jeers and my tears went on for while longer and he knew now that I did fear him and his power. He that he had beat me.

The coach barked "Ok, as you can see... class has been cut short today... due to Mr crybaby ADAM Kline's inability to follow directions. So lets do a very fast ten lap warm up. Then group one is over to the kicking area with the nets doing punts and extra points, along with group two doing kick offs. Group three is working on blocking with group four doing tackling over there with the dummies. Group five is doing snapping, group six is doing receiving, group seven is doing pass blocking and finally group eight is learning how to throw a football and those four groups are over here with me. Johansen you're it! Oh, and Kline, the entire class gets a one lap head start on Johansen. Everyone he laps has to do laps all class long."he explained to me". The three of us with gym shorts still laying on the ground picked them up and the rest of the class pulled up their gym shorts so that they were properly back around their waist. Everyone jogged over to the starting line along with the other 7 classes and Coach Schneider blew his whistle loudly and all the boys started to run.

There was no doubt that I was faster than any fucking kid in this or any other fucking school in the world but with my shoes full of toilet paper, my socks drooping down around my shoes and one hand needed to hold up my gym shorts and jock, I thought, this could be challenging. I stayed with the pack for a while but realized that I was expected to fall back, that any normal kid wouldn't do well under these circumstances, so I started falling behind. All of the coaches kept watching me the entire run. The laps were run on an oval which went around the entire perimeter of the gym so it enclosed the girls and their volleyball nets as well as our end of the room. You could see instantly what boys liked what girls as our ten orbits brought us very close to the girls. Some boys nearly tripped over other boys as they tried to make eye contact with a girl. Conversely it was easy to see which boys had no interest in girls at all. I wondered if the coaches were picking up on this self identification process as well.

I let Johansen get closer and closer. I was now at the back of the pack in next to last place trying to hold all my accoutrements in place. I was at lap five and Johansen had gained about half a lap on me. I kept pressing. Now there were three or four other kids falling back near me. By the eighth lap I was no longer at the back of the class but Johansen was less than a quarter of a lap behind me. He had already passed six or seven boys already. Most of the lapped boys were freshmen but there was a couple of nerdy or fat boys from higher grades that got lapped as well. I knew the coach wanted Johansen to pass me and I could tell in a visceral way that that Johansen wanted to please the coach. I think they both thought that he would have easily passed me early on. Just like earlier, when Bates tried to get me to stand at attention and have my jock drop, but I never let it happen, he wanted to break me here once again. The challenge was on and I knew I possessed the ability to win this one! One lap left and Johansen was only five feet behind me and turning on his kick. He was closing on me and a pack of six other boys quickly. We were neck and neck at half a lap left. Johansen passed me by a foot at a quarter of a lap left. I turned on a bit more speed and caught up to him with only 15 feet left to go. I knew that if it turned out to be a photo finish that I would be declared the looser so I pushed a bit harder for the last 15 feet so that I would win clearly. As my feet moved faster I accidentally relaxed my clenched toes just a little and the toilet paper shifted inside one shoe, and off it flew! Off the back of my foot it shot; straight up towards the ceiling. Then in the next step my toe clench on the other shoe failed, due mostly to the surprise failure of the first shoe, and it also few up towards the ceiling. I had blown out both shoes ten feet before the finish line but I was ahead by a foot. In the next step one sock slid right off of my foot, as there was no longer a shoe to retain it and it had no elastic stretch left in it also went sailing. Then in the next step just as I crossed the line the last sock was also flung up into the air by my foot. I crossed the line well ahead of Johansen by more than two feet, even though he reached out to get a hand ahead of me but to no avail, with socks, shoes and toilet paper flying in every direction I clearly beat him. All of my footwear was still in the air as I crossed the line. The coaches, and all the kids from all the other classes, had stopped whatever it was they were doing to watch the finish.

My shoes and socks came raining down all over the room with tiny bits of toilet paper, that had been shredded in my shoes as I ran. The toilet paper had turned to confetti and came fluttering down slowly like snow. Every coach and every kid burst out in laughter; even Coach Bates was laughing so hard that his hands crisscrossed his rib cage as he was literally holding his sides due to laughter. I heard some of the less popular kids shout in joy for my victory; including the ones that had been lapped which must have been 20 or 25 boys in total at the finish. The girls and girls coaches all clapped! I won; and in a toilet paper ticker tape snowstorm no less. I heard whistles and shouts of praise. I was barefoot but I beat Johansen! For me, more importantly, I beat Coach Bates this time! I then heard Tom say inside my head "Aaron you're trying to befriend the coaches not alienate yourself from them. Get with the program Aaron, you don't have anything to prove here. Your still on autonomous but get the coaches to like, trust, and confide in you - not compete with you" Then I heard the Doc's voice inside my head 100 times more clearly. "Aaron, Tom cant hear me, don't worry about Tom. You're doing fine, keep going kiddo. Good job not showing off your speed too much"

I gathered my socks and shoes and the bigger pieces of toilet paper and put them back on. I ran over to Coach Bates to lord my victory over him and his "it" boy - Johansen. "So coach which group am I in?" I asked in as matter of fact voice as I could muster. Coach Bates was still laughing. "ha ha he he... You're here with me, right here. You can be in the snapping group. I think that's group six" I contradicted the coach, "snapping is group five coach" intending to push my latitude earned by my victory as far as I could. The coach chuckled "ok Kline group five then".