Physicians Exposed My Boyhood
Copyright© 2025 by Jettpak
Chapter 1
Several years ago, I found myself participating in an adolescent growth study, beginning at the young age of eleven, with my good buddy Adam.
My lil bod was still coming into its own back then, and I was expected to go bare naked for examiners, doctors and their staff, all in the name of medical research.
What a way to confront my self-discovery as I navigate my sexual identity!
They were professionals, but they were also just strangers, and their clinical gaze on me, before and throughout puberty, both unsettled me and strangely illuminated my feelings. It was a huge juxtaposition!
My experiences forced me to confront all aspects of myself that I am still coming to understand fully, even now in the endmost of my teens.
Vulnerability was an element and it was normalised by the intrusiveness of the study.
I should say, around the same time I had already started exploring all kinds of stuff with Adam. But the feelings I had to grapple with, whilst submitting to the adults at the institute, were new to me and complex to comprehend.
In an instant, my whole body was thrust into the very strict scrutiny of adults. I was just a kid, so the formal atmosphere of the institute only served to increase the discomfort.
Adam and I were already spending alot of our time together as school mates before we started puberty. Both of us were very precocious boys.
We met a long time ago, way before I started coming to grips with my sexuality. In a way, I am still coming to terms with being different but I have at least learn’t, in these of my most formative years, that being gay is more than a mere activity, it’s my identity.
It is complicated though, I have some stereotypical gay interests but I am still very sporty and brawny like a jock. In that respect I don’t appear to have all the typical tropes that people in the eighties attribute with batting for the other team.
Contact sports keep me fit and masculine looking, but it should also be said, wrestling is so fun.
Getting intimately close with other boys my age clad in just our tight, shiny spandex suits, writhing together is so hot too.
I am on the lean side, but even as a youngster I had a hint of shape around my muscles and my dark brown hair was somewhat longish, the way I liked it. I’m told I am fair skinned, but I tan up quickly in the summertime.
To help bulk up my young bod I got into lifting weights and joined in at the boxing league.
Baseball is a major thing for me, I love being around the fit boys in our uniforms. The tautness around the boys bods, in uniform, is lovely and the way the pants hug the thigh and crotch is cause for arousal alone.
I tend to be on the quiet side, being around animals makes me happy and it’s a good way to relax and spend my spare time.
Despite being into rough sports, there is another side to me that appreciates the arts and the more sophisticated things in life. It helps balance me.
Adam and I have shared alot in eachothers lives. From a young age, our parents were good friends and it gave us alot of opportunities to hang out and muck around after school and on sleep overs.
There were camping trips we had together too that we used, opportunistically, for some fun together as well.
The invitation to the study was from a prestigeous institution, circulated to our parents and despite expressing my disinterest, that’s how I got roped into the whole thing.
The notices went around about a sexual growth study. My parents were hemming and hawing about it, and I was rightly nervous that they were even considering it. I mean c’mon, really!
From what I had seen from the info they had received, it sounded dreadful. I was only turning eleven, neither Adam or I were looking forward to being alone with complete strangers in a medical facility, let alone having our genitalia heavily scrutinised by them.
But, Adam’s parents very openly said they were going to sign Adam up, or at least take him for the initial assessment stuff, so from that they kind of talked my parents into it too.
The Weltons Institute had netted twenty four volunteers, all boys. I reluctantly joined into it’s quest for scientific discovery but at least I wasn’t in it alone!
Having other kids involved did not make the years go by any quicker, mind you. At age eleven things were alot different to how they are now, yes, still a teenager, but nearly an adult and finalised with the study.
I was almost unaware of the gravity that the transition into puberty would have on me until I had already commenced the study and my body started to change. So I didn’t have too much reason to complain about it - initially.
Older guys were fascinating to me and are a huge turn on, so from that point of view I was okay with adults seeing me naked but it certainly didn’t make it any easier for me.
Addy and I were already mucking around. At least we were comfortable about being bare together and we were used to mucking around with other people that we actually knew.
And so, the study began with my first visit to the Weltons Centre. The institute stood in a grand two story brick building nestled at the street corner away from all the sprawling university houses.
When I approached from the leafy street, in the centre of the city, it seemed harmless enough, and it was there where I started to learn what I was in for.
Soon enough, I found it to be more intrusive than I had ever imagined.
Adam and I had our birthdays close together, so we both visited for the initial assessment around our eleventh birthdays.
Some time after the studies commenced, the sexual stirrings intensified exponentially within me.
And it wasn’t until the identifiable sexual growth of my body started that I realised how much the meticulously lengthy and invasive sessions would result in a mix of embarrassment and tedium.
I often wondered, how could I have been signed up for this?
Not that I was invariably embarrassed to be naked for the examiners, nor constantly bored either. It was just that it could take up a whole day of my life at a time.
In my down time at the institute I relaxed with some of the other cute boys in the recreation room.
Weltons did at least try to make the place a welcoming sort of environment for us. The place was like an awkward mix of a summer day camp for kids and a typical medical clinic.
The rec room was just one of the many, many rooms that I was called upon by the staff to go to.
When I had hit puberty properly, at twelve and a half, the whole thing made me even more irritated. I argued with my parents about what I was thrown into, and really, I don’t know how they expected me to react.
At the clinic, I could wear a tee shirt and my school gym shorts, but I inevitably wound up naked - alot.
Most boys went bare chested the majority of the time which I didn’t complain about. I enjoyed being around them, discreetly checking out the cute ones, clad in only small shorts and maybe some long striped socks.
The first full day examination began with a set of tests from medical staff that started in the morning where urine and blood samples were taken.
After the samples I was moved into an official physical exam room with one of the doctors in charge.
This is where I was to strip off, totally. My tee shirt, shorts, undies - all gone. In the exams, I had the astonishing experiences of having my penis measured by the doctor.
The very first time, it was a mix of nerves and excitement to be naked. Fortunately, I managed to calm myself down just in time as another member of the staff prepared me for a series of clinical photographs.
There were always photos to be taken, whether they were full-body shots or intimate close-ups. I vividly remember them focusing in on close-ups of my genitals; it was a moment that, inwardly, made me cringe, but it stirred my young libido too.
These experiences made me feel incredibly vulnerable and exposed, as if every detail of my tender penis and sack were magnified under their persistent lens.
Often, when it came to photographs, it felt like the lens was taunting me, trying to somehow strip away my confidence. It wasn’t degrading, but it certainly stripped away at my privacy.
It felt so raw being documented nude onto film, being monitored and judged by it in hard copy and printed on everlasting film paper for who-knows to see.
But the sensations always lingered within me and I grew to find an eroticism about it. Even though there was a sense of a shadow over it, it was otherwise a liberating experience to have the tool of my desires and excitement captured in front of the camera.
It did get more embarrassing when I was having my first growth spurt around twelve and thirteen.
The really noticeable thing was the growth surge in my penis, my shaft got bigger, my glans gained in plumpness and my scrotum began to loosen, lowering my testes into a nice dangle.
I was shown the photos from previous visits and they would say things like “you can tell how much you have grown and changed since then.” Can you imagine that?
Apart from the past photos that tracked my growth, all on high quality film and printed in a special development room, at each visit they took an instant polaroid of me, upon arrival, which they clipped to the cover of my folder, which was taken around to every station.
So, the front of the folder had my name, participant number, current age and photo from the neck up, almost like an ID.
My actual paper forms inside the dossier, pretty much, had a whole page for each important body area being assessed, so one whole page was dedicated strictly to my penis.
By the age of fourteen, at least, I inevitably got erections during the exams. The doc would hold my hard penis in his fingers to measure it too.
In fact, staying soft wasn’t enough for them. They wanted to measure me soft and hard. It went on and on with separate measurements of different aspects of my penis.
The doc simply rolled their chair really close and sat there facing my penis, handling it in their gloved hands, moving it about to record the shaft and glans amongst other things.
They always measured it, independently, in all different ways. The doc even touched my delicate little urethral piss slit to measure it, there was no detail left unanalysed.
I was lucky to never have let a load go off into his hands, with all the feeling, squeezing, clutching and general contact with my penis, almost amounting to fondling.
Even without a boner the doc just, matter-of-factly, asked me to get an erection. From a young age, I could just pop one in an instant when I wanted it to, so they definitely exploited that ability.
Normally I was soft, the general tedium and overall annoyance of being there and not out roller skating with my friends and having fun, saw to that.
But, once I got home I had alot of cravings and desire built up. The urge I felt to cum was intense, so when I did get around to it, it was explosive.
During the course of the study, they captured the beginnings of my fuzzy pubic hair, just above my penis, as it got longer and more noticeable. A few strands started to be distinguishable in their camera lens, in my teens.
There weren’t that many strands hugely visible in the itsy bitsy patch, but even standing far away for the whole body shots there were a few dozen strands of soft shadowy hair spanning the base of my penis, detectable in the photos.
The hair seemed to have no interest in growing closer towards my shaft, which felt nice and smooth playing around, and all the lovelier, there was no hair yet on my soft scrotum, nor my silky young taint!
At this point, having become a teenager, the fuzz under my arms was getting slightly longer but almost too faint to detect.
It was still a couple more years before the doctors noted the hair on my perineum and around my anus as it started to become more visible.
I was still a relatively tender teen headed towards my major growth spurt, around age fifteen, at which time hair eventually appeared on my butt cheeks and a nice trail progressed from my pubes to meet up to my belly button.
Hair on my face tracked on the same timeline as my armpits.
The institute learn’t how my soft stache evolved, once it was discoverable, shortly before age fourteen. Something sprung up on my chin very soon after, it was all meticulously recorded at the institute.
I was told to not shave anywhere before my visits, so the close up photos captured my maturing facial structure, and my facial hairs, highlighting my foray into boyhood masculinity.
Not only was everything noted, measured, photographed etc. It was always done with a scrutinising eye, relating it back to everything else.