Stimulus-Organism-Response
Copyright© 2026 by Zappedfan
Chapter 2
“Huh?” Peyton wasn’t sure he had heard her right. “Did you just ask what I would do to get you to strip in class?”
“Yes,” Bernadette answered matter-of-factly. “That’s clearly something that everyone would accept as atypical behavior for me and that I would only do given the proper stimulus.”
Peyton was astonished. He sometimes wondered what Bernadette would look like naked. Well, he thought that about most girls. But Bernadette was one girl he never thought he would see that way. Now, maybe, he would get the chance.
“You’re serious?” he asked. “You’d take off your clothes in class? In front of everybody?”
“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous,” Bernadette scolded.
She could see that Peyton was walking right into her trap. All he could think about was seeing her naked. ‘Men!’ she thought. ‘They’re all alike—one-track minds. And Peyton’s the worst. He couldn’t care less about how smart I am or how mature or trustworthy. I’m not even a person to him, just a body. Men!’
“I’m confused,” Peyton said.
“What a surprise,” Bernadette quipped. “Look,” she explained, “Mr. Nick said failure is an option. So I’m the first organism. We define the stimulus that gets me to strip. You try your level best to provide it, but can’t. We explain the failure and get full credit.”
Peyton leaned forward. “Did I miss something? How does that get us full credit for both organisms?”
“You’re the other organism,” Bernadette coaxed. “The stimulus for me to strip is for you to also do something atypical, and the stimulus for you to do that is to see me strip. So my reaction is your stimulus and vice-versa. Get it?”
“We’ll never get away with it,” Peyton said. “Mr. Nick will fail us for sure because he’ll never believe there was ever a way to get you to strip in the first place.”
Here was her opening. Bernadette had already thought of the perfect humiliation for Peyton.
“Oh, but there is,” she said. “I’ve always wanted a boy like you to write me a really mushy love letter. A sensitive, feeling, soul-searching letter.”
“Yuuuuck,” Peyton said, flinching at the thought.
“One where you confess all your shortcomings and praise all my better features,” she continued. “A letter so romantic, so poetic, it would actually make me cry.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Peyton said.
“Well,” Bernadette concluded, “this has been my fantasy for as long as I can remember. And I’ve often thought that if a man like you wrote a love letter to me that made me cry ... I’d do anything for him.”
“Even take your clothes off in front of the whole class?” Peyton asked.
“Exactly.” Bernadette answered, moving in for the kill. “So the way the experiment works is you give me the letter and I read it to the class...”
“Read it to the class!!!” Peyton exclaimed in the same tone Bernadette had used earlier. “I’d be totally humiliated. I’d never live it down.”
“You mean that it would be atypical behavior for you to give me such a letter to read to the class?” Bernadette asked.
Peyton began to see her point. “Yeah, yeah,” he agreed. “And everyone would know it.”
Bernadette could see him squirm. Good. This would teach him a lesson on how he should relate to women.
“And since you so rarely express sincere feelings of intimacy,” she concluded, “you’re sure to fail at making me cry.”
“Do you ever cry?” Peyton asked.
“Hmmm...” Bernadette thought. “I think I remember crying when I was six and my kitten died.”
That was actually true. Bernadette was practically Vulcan when it came to emotions. She knew this. That’s why she had made the letter making her cry a condition. It was risk-free.
‘Brother,’ Peyton thought. ‘This Bernadette is more high-maintenance than Jane.’ Then it hit him. ‘Jane!’ Jane could help him write the letter. She was great at that mushy stuff, and she hated Bernadette. It could work. But it wouldn’t be worth it unless...
“Naw...” Peyton said. “I’d write the letter to see you naked if you were going to keep it private. But if you’re going to read the letter out loud, you’ve got to do something more.”
“More?” Bernadette asked, insulted. “More than take off my clothes? You’re on thin ice here, buddy, if you’re talking about...”
“No, no,” Peyton interrupted. “Just that you would actually have to give me your clothes. Then you wouldn’t be able to cover back up immediately. You’d be at my mercy.”
“Me at your mercy?” Bernadette snorted. “I don’t see that happening. Okay, fine. If your letter makes me cry, I give you my clothes in front of the whole class. It’s not going to happen anyway.”
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