The rest of orientation and the first two days of classes went pretty much without a hitch. I obviously had a lot to learn, being dropped into a new world, but the professors I met seemed like they really wanted me to succeed, which was something I had never experienced in high school.
My favorite professor was my advisor Paz Whitman. I'd had a couple more meetings with her, and of course they were informative, but I also appreciated that she actually got to know me and I could talk to her about how I was feeling. She's also very beautiful, so it's possible that my judgement of her was skewed because I was developing a little crush on her. At any rate, she seemed very smart and caring, and I enrolled in her class "English for College Writing."
I walked into Paz's classroom at 4 PM on Friday after a long day of classes and took a seat. Two other students walked in after me: Archie and Genevieve. Archie is this guy who always has a smug look on his face, and it seemed like Genevieve was always following him around. He sat down next to me and she sat right behind him.
Paz walked into the class, probably coming form her office down the hall. She waved and smiled at us as she walked in. She also shot a special smile to me because I'm one of her advisees.
"Okay, class," she said. "Good afternoon and all the regular niceties. Today we'll be doing several exercises to help us to get comfortable writing in class as well as giving and receiving constructive feedback to and from your peers. First, please prepare a piece of paper, and then write a paragraph about what you have done so far today. You have five minutes; try to make it interesting."
I started writing about the different classes I went to and what we did in each of them. There wasn't much to say, so I filled up some space by talking about how bizarre it is adapting to this new environment.
"Time's up," said Paz. "Swap paragraphs with the person sitting next to you and read each others paragraphs. Prepare both positive and negative feedback on their writing style and grammar."
I swapped papers with Archie and started to read. It was honestly hard to parse because he used so many big words. One sentence said: "The lessons appear more to be prolonged excogitations than adequately proper, pedagogical lectures."
When the time came to give our feedback, I said, "I thought it was really well written and, like, academic, and you obviously have a massive vocabulary. If I had one suggestion, I would say you could probably be a little more succinct?"
Archie looked amused for some reason. "Is that so?" he asked.
"Yeah..." I said. "Like, for example, you said 'pedagogical lectures.' I feel like you could just say 'lectures.' It would be easier to read that way with the same meaning."
"Well you know," said Archie, "I will take that into consideration, but I am certain my vocabulary is perfectly adequate for readers who understand the denotation of the words in question."
I'll admit I didn't know every word he used, but I know what pedagogical means and I kind of doubt HE does know. "Alright, that's fine," I said, not in the mood to fight this idiot.
"Now onto your writing," he said. "I found it to be decidedly bland. You lexicon was inexorably lacking. You used the word 'class' in four different instances."
Well I was writing about going to classes. "What could I have done instead?" I asked.
"Perhaps you could have replaced 'class' with 'lesson,' 'lecture,' or 'course,'" he said, handing the paper back to me. "Of course, there is no reason to change it. This class is a joke. Paz Whitman is inexorably incapable of teaching us anything above a primary school level."
"Then why are you taking it?" I snapped.
"I expect it will be a good laugh," he said. I bet he was really in that class to drool over Paz. He turned to his beloved Genevieve behind him and whispered something to her. I heard: Something "overuses the word class," something something, "doesn't have any class to begin with." Genevieve giggled and he went back to facing forward, with a smirk on his face. I knew he was talking about me.
I leaned towards him and quietly said, "Hey, man. Do you have a problem with me or something?"
He smiled slyly. "No, of course not. I have great respect for you."
"Okay. Whatever." I fantasized about hitting him upside the head for a few moments before telling myself to forget it. He may have some opinion of me, but there's no harm he can do me with just his opinions.
I got up to head to the bathroom while most people were still giving each other constructive criticism cuz I really had to piss. Paz stopped me on my way to the door. "Where are you going, Jack?" she asked.
"Just... to the bathroom."
"Could you stay until the end of class? I think you'll enjoy this next exercise."
"Uh, okay. Sure," I said smiling. My bladder was full but I didn't wanna let Paz think I'm lazy. I sat back down to the sound of Archie and Genevieve stifling laughter, no doubt about my brief conversation with Paz about holding in pee.
The class was fine but I was too focused on not peeing my pants to write anything good.
After class I hurried straight to the nearest bathroom, which was luckily right across the hall. I quickly disrobed, which was still weird, but I had accepted and was starting to get used to. Once I was fully naked, I scurried over to a urinal and let the river flow. So much relief. It felt like minutes had passed before I finished draining my bladder.
I shook off my dick and walked to the sink to wash my hands. Something I never noticed in my years of non-nude peeing is that the dick can let off a couple drips of urine even after a proper shake. So, I splashed a little water on the little (I mean, not THAT little) guy while washing my hands just to make sure it was clean.
I walked back out to the changing room and- ... My clothes weren't there. All the hooks were empty. I know I left them here like always. I peeked back in the bathroom. Nothing to help me there.
Somebody must have done this, I thought. Archie? God, what an asshole. I couldn't believe someone would actually do this.
Shit. What could I do? I waited around for a few minutes, naked in the bathroom. I peeked outside very carefully. Nobody around. I checked and double checked and triple checked. This was usually a quiet corridor, in my experience. I hated myself for what I was about to do, but I had no choice.
I slowly pushed the door open, making a quadruple check, and started down the hall, cock and balls in hands. I tried to move quickly, but quietly, but I had no plan. My cheeks followed behind me, exposed. Why did I keep finding myself in these situations?
But at least nobody had seen me yet. I wasn't prepared for what to do if somebody did-
"Jackson?!"
