Campus Case Study
Part 3: Conditioned Response Theory.
Monday morning Nick Phillips casually strolled into my classroom, generating a flurry of activity as his entrance was noted throughout the room. He was dressed in bicycle bib-shorts, with a spandex shirt zipped up to his neck. The entire ensemble was black, with hot pink trim; he wore black socks and sneakers on his feet.
He looked hot as he pushed his sunglasses up into his short blond hair. I watched his tight ass as he walked to his desk. He set down his notebook and sprawled in his seat.
Teaching became rather difficult. I had to fight to keep from staring at the spandex-clad boy in the front row. As I taught my lesson about the differences in the way men and women listen, I sensed few members of the class were in fact listening to me, opting to watch Nick instead.
After class Nick claimed his bicycle from a nearby rack and walked it beside me to my office. He seemed to be unaware of the attention he drew.
In my office he sat in the chair opposite my desk while I busied myself filing my lecture notes and clearing my desk. I shut the office door, flipping the lock, and crossed to my desk.
As I lowered myself into my chair I couldn’t help check out the bulge in his bike shorts.
“So what do you need me to do today, Damian?” Nick asked. “You said we’d get going this week.”
“True, I did. This weekend I gave more thought to a part of my theory which has been troubling me. Do you know much about conditioned response theories?”
“What about them?” he asked.
“There are several theories that as children pass through the different stages of development they grow and adapt by taking both spoken and unspoken cues from the adult world around them. Positive reinforcement will elicit a repeated behavior. Likewise, negative responses will cause the child to shy away from that behavior which extracted an undesirable consequence. What it basically boils down to is the idea that people will do what is expected of them so they may be accepted and praised.”
Nick was nodding pensively. I knew he was trying to follow the logic. Or lack thereof. It was the perfect time to spring upon him unawares.
“Beach Bum.”
Nick’s eyes slowly closed as he began to draw deep breaths.
“That’s it,” I said with a smile. “Breathing deeply. Very good, Nick. Feeling more relaxed with each passing breath. You may need to shift in your chair to make yourself more comfortable.”
He slowly, jerkily stretched his legs out a bit.
“Breathing deeply. I see you remembered to wear your bike shorts today. You look very appealing, Nick. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Your classmates, people on campus, even strangers noticed how good you looked in your bike shorts. Both women and men. You enjoyed their attention, didn’t you, Nick?”
“Yes.”
“You like the way you look in your spandex shirt and shorts, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You like the way the spandex feels cool as it presses against your warm skin, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Breathing deeply and evenly. Feeling relaxed. When you’re here you can talk openly and honestly about anything, Nick. You have nothing to hide. You are not embarrassed to speak openly about any subject. And you must always answer my questions truthfully. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Nick, each day we’ll start with a few basic questions about you so I may learn more about your life outside of my classroom. I’m aware you’re in a fraternity. What else do you do during your downtime?”
“I act.”
“Really? Are you involved in any productions now?”
“Auditions are this week.”
“Excellent. Break a leg.” That could prove interesting. “Do you work?”
“Yes.”
“What do you do?”
“In the summer I lifeguard at the beach.”
I knew he was a beach bum! “What about during the school year?”
“I’m a waiter.”
“Service industry. Excellent. Did you masturbate this weekend?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Five.”
“Five? That’s once a day. You gave your hand quite a workout. That’s good; you have a healthy sex drive. That will come in handy.” I paused. Bad pun. “Nick, while you were masturbating, what did you think about?”
“Guys.”
If Nick had been conscious of his surroundings he probably would have been troubled by the smirk on my face. All I had done was plant the idea of thinking about guys while he masturbated and that’s what he thought of all weekend. Nick would be an excellent subject for my research.
“You thought about guys? What were they doing?”
“Standing there.”
“Not doing anything?” I asked in surprise.
“Wearing spandex.”
“The guys you thought about were wearing spandex?”
“Yes.”
Interesting. It was possible that the two suggestions had become confused in his mind. However, he had worn spandex today as instructed. “Do you like to look at men wearing spandex?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they wear spandex outside.”
“Do you wear spandex outside?”
“Only to ride my bike.”
“Why only then?”
“My friends would make fun of me.”
Fascinating. Was this a boy with a pre-existing spandex fetish? That would color my work with him in a new way. But I had to be certain. “Breathing deeply, Nick. Have you always enjoyed looking at men wearing spandex?”
“No.”
“When did you start looking at men wearing spandex?”
“In high school I was on the wrestling team. We used to wear these singletts for our meets. And I liked to dress up for my matches. And I’d look at all the guys on my team and the guys we were competing against.”
“So you started wearing spandex then?”
“Only for wrestling. I mean, the guys would’ve slaughtered me if I wore spandex outside.”
“But you wear spandex to ride your bike?”
“That’s why I started biking so much. Then it’s okay.”
I supposed that was logical. “But you were looking at other guys wearing spandex. Are you a homosexual?”
“No.”
“But you like to look at men wearing spandex?”
“I don’t look at the men. I got this magazine with pictures of men wearing spandex and I would look at them and wish I had that spandex. I would think about it while I was jerking off. Then my cousin found my magazine and I didn’t have it anymore.”
“So what you were really interested in was the spandex?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they could wear it outside and it was okay.”
“Nick, you can wear spandex outside of you want to.”
“My friends would freak.”
“Breathing deeply, Nick. It doesn’t matter if your friends make fun of you. You like to wear spandex. You can wear it whenever you want. In fact, you like to wear it often, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to wear?”
“Spandex.”
“Does it matter what your friends say?”
Pause.
Nick’s apprehension about wearing spandex in public was rooted more deeply than our third session would allow me to affect. “Nick, if you want to wear spandex it shouldn’t matter if your friends understand. You should do it for you. And you like spandex. You like the way you look in it. Others do too. Does it matter what your friends say?”
He hesitated. His “No,” didn’t sound convincing.
“We’ll table that for now, Nick. I’m curious about your masturbation. While you were thinking about these men standing around in spandex did you think of anything else?”
“No.”
“The next time you masturbate you will think of those men again. You will see them standing wearing spandex. But they will be stroking themselves, too. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I believe that’s enough for today. What are you going to think about when you masturbate?”
“Guys strokin’.”
“Right. And what will you wear whenever you want?”
“Spandex.”
“Right. Why?”
“I like it.”
“Excellent. When I count three you’ll awaken. You’ll recall only that we discussed conditioned response theory. 1...2...3.”
Nick straightened in the chair. He looked at me for a moment, and I wondered if he knew what had transpired. But that was impossible.
He broke into an easy grin. “So I should come back here on Wednesday?”
“Yes, I think this schedule works out, don’t you?”
“Sure.” He got to his feet and picked up his notebook from beside the chair. “You need anything else?”
I shook my head. “You were a lot of help today. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
Nick slid the sunglasses down over his eyes and left my office.
To be continued in Part 4...
Campus Case Study
Part 4: Evolution.
Wednesday turned out to be a conflict for Nick. The semester was moving into full swing and his workload had picked up. It was a common occurrence on campus. I, too, had seen my paperwork double, and was scheduled to present at a conference next week. We agreed to work only on Mondays for the time being.
It was Monday of the third week of the semester—which left only twelve weeks for my project—and I was going to take the next step in my research. But first I had to teach my class. Today’s lecture was concerned with the unspoken cues men and women communicate as they speak to each other. Body language was a major factor in any gender-related discussion. The confidence and stature with which a man carries himself affects the manner in which the world around him views him. Should a man lose his poise or reputation his status plummets. Men with aggressive demeanors or confident deportment were deemed more desirable.
I was setting up the overhead projector for my notes when Nick arrived at class, clad in baggy jeans and a jersey. He looked more ready to play touch football than like the cyclist he’d appeared as last week. Something about him seemed to exude natural athlete. He had the toned body of a gymnast, and it was evident no matter what he chose to wear. Several of the girls in class took notice of his entrance and arched their backs or tossed their hair. The perfect illustration of my point: confident, athletic men were sought-after under our current sexual mores.
After class Nick accompanied me to my office. I was curious as to why he wore no spandex today. There was an obvious dichotomy at work here between the Nick of the waking world and the Nick in my office. The questions that posed were limitless. Could he continue to function as two separate people? Would any suggestions I make eventually supersede his self-control? How far could post-hypnotic suggestions take him away from his own free will? One thing was certain: I’d need to take him much deeper in order to make any real or lasting changes. I was anxious to begin the next phase of my research.
We sat in our respective places in my cramped office. Nick was becoming more comfortable here with each visit, which facilitated deepening his relaxed state. He settled back in the chair, extending his legs and crossing them at the ankle. His sneakers gleamed white against his dark blue jeans.
“So what’s up for today, Damian?” he asked.
“Today we’re going to start at the beginning,” I said. “What do you know about the theory of evolution?” He shrugged. “Darwin. Man evolved from apes.”
“Exactly. Charles Darwin determined, to much controversy, that man descended from apes. Have you ever observed apes at the zoo?”
Nick broke into a grin.
“What’s funny?”
“I loved the monkey cages at the zoo when I was a kid.”
“Oh. Excellent. Your knowledge may add invaluable insight to my research. You see, in my study I’m concerned with not so much the physical evolution from ape to man, but the ways in which gender roles and sexual politics evolved over time. I’m attempting to reveal the link between evolution, gender and sexual orientation. This raises several fascinating questions, such as had man not been forced into the role of hunter-gatherer, and woman the role of caretaker, would they have opted for those roles or reversed their positions?”
Nick nodded.
“Beach Bum.”
His head nodded forward.
“Breathing deeply, Nick. You’re feeling happy, relaxed, warm and protected. All is peaceful around you. Your mind is calm and slowly clearing. You have no cares or worries here.”
His chest rose and fell rhythmically.
“Again we’ll start with a few questions about you. Do you have any siblings?”
“A sister.”
Interesting. “Are you close to your sister?”
“Yes.”
That relationship might come in handy when we begin work on gendered behaviors. “Why didn’t you wear spandex today?”
“I did.”
I glanced him over once more. “You’re wearing a jersey and jeans, Nick.”
“Under my clothes,” he said.
“What are you wearing?”
“Bicycle shorts.”
“Excellent. Nick, you will continue to grow more comfortable wearing spandex. Soon you’ll only want to wear spandex. You’ll become dependent on it; you’ll draw confidence from wearing your spandex. But today we have another subject to address. We were speaking of evolution. My theory relates the separation of gender roles and sexual proclivities to the divergence of male and female evolution. To attempt to study this it is my goal to devolve you and then re-evolve you to an enlightened form of yourself. You will be the greatest living example of evolved sexuality, Nick. We’ll begin now.”
I stood and walked around the desk, leaning against the desk directly in front of his chair. “Breathing in and out. Your body is relaxed and limp. Set your feet on the floor, Nick.”
He somewhat jerkily uncrossed his ankles and squared his feet.
“Stand up.”
Nick got to his feet and stood, swaying slightly. His chin drooped against his chest.
“Nick, right now you are 100% man. Which is good. But when we’re done you’ll be 100% boy, and that’s better. In between we have our work cut out for us.”
He continued to sway ever so slightly on his feet.
“Nick, you told me that as a boy you enjoyed visiting the monkey cages at the zoo. Do you remember that?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember watching the monkeys? Can you picture them in your mind?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I want you to picture in your mind how an ape stands. His knees are bent; his legs are rubbery. Can you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Your legs should begin to feel a bit rubbery, Nick. Your knees are bending. Just the way you see them in your mind.”
Nick’s legs seemed to give out under him. He dropped to a squatting position.
“Picture an apes arms. How does he hold them? Do they hang long at his sides? Do his hands seem to drag?”
“Yes.”
“Are your arms are hanging limply at your sides, Nick? Are your knuckles just scraping the floor?”
He was hunching down more and more, his hands dragging closer to the floor.
“Keep picturing those apes in your mind, Nick. Focus on one of them. The best ape you ever recall seeing. Can you envision that ape?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Does that ape speak English?”
“No.”
“Can you speak English?”
“Yes.”
“How do apes communicate?”
“They chatter.”
I crossed my arms. “Can you chatter?”
“Yes.”
“Let me hear you chatter.”
“Ooo—ooo—ooo,” he hooted.
“Excellent, Nick. Because from this moment on you can no longer speak English. Your tongue and lips will no longer form words. You may only communicate like an ape. You will chatter and prattle like the apes you used to visit at the zoo. You will understand all my words, but you will not be able to speak to respond. Is that clear, Nick?”
“Ooo—ooo—ooo.”
“That’s very good, Nick. You have just reached Phase One of our research project. You have regressed to your ape self. In the coming weeks we will work on your progress to boyhood. But today you are an ape. And when you are an ape you will answer to Monkeyboy. Is that clear?”
“Ooo—ooo—ooo.”
“We will work more on your behavior as Monkeyboy. For one, apes don’t wear clothing. And you’re wearing clothing. That will change as we progress. You may find that you develop a yen for bananas this week. In fact, I believe you will find yourself craving bananas.”
“Ooo—ooo—ooo.”
“Listen to me very carefully. Every time I call you Monkeyboy you will regress to an ape. You will walk like an ape, talk like an ape, live as an ape. You will cease being a man in all ways. Is that clear?”
He chattered on a bit.
“That’s a good Monkeyboy.”
“When I count three you will awaken. But when I say Monkeyboy you will become an ape. Is that clear?
“Ooo—ooo—ooo.”
“As always Beach Bum will remain your trigger to relax. This week you will continue fantasizing about men as you masturbate. You will wear your spandex. You’ll return here next week. Sit in the chair, Nick.”
He turned around in his squatting position and hopped up into the chair. He sat with his feet on the edge of the chair and his arms draped over the sides of the chair.
I returned to my desk chair. “1...2...3.”
Nick opened his eyes. He pushed his feet off the edge of the seat. He seemed unsure of why he was sitting in this manner. He pushed up straighter in the chair.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
He forced a grin. “No.”
“You’re free to go, Nick. I can finish up for today.”
He got to his feet. “You sure?”
“Thanks, Monkeyboy.”
He hunched over and swung his arms. “Ooo—ooo—ooo.”
This was almost too easy.