The Test Subject

I'm walking across the campus on a Friday afternoon in mid-October when I notice that I am being noticed. The eyes of two students follow me as I march my way toward the library. They are pointing, whispering and nodding. Right at me. What is going on?

When they notice me noticing them, they hurry my way. I instinctively slow down. There are hundreds of other students all around us; I don't think I'm about to be mugged or otherwise attacked. But then I realize that my admirers are actually part of a group of five. The small group that was behind them is in fact with them. Maybe I should be worried.

The quintet is comprised of two boys and three girls. The taller boy reaches me first. He has blond hair, blue eyes and an assertive smile that probably not too many people say "No" to. His air of confidence alone has me feeling like I'm well on my way to saying "Yes" to something and I'm still clueless to what he's about to ask. He speaks first. What he says surprises me. He tells me to not introduce myself. They want to get to know me, but the one thing they can't know is my name. They can't know who I am.

The tall boy says, "How would you like to make $200? Are you busy tonight? We just need two hours of your time. That's a hundred bucks an hour. It could be the highest paying job of your life."

He looks down at my worn and tattered sneakers, my fraying and faded jeans and my battered and beaten book bag. I am a poor college student, lucky to be here because of my scholarship, struggling to make it financially from semester to semester. Even more than new jeans and sneakers, I'm trying to save for a new laptop. I'm still using the same one I started high school with six years ago. It is dying a slow and painful death. Every time I close it I say a little prayer that it will survive the night. And I'm an atheist.

I've already mentally added the $200 to my meager bank account. "What do you need me to do?"

Tall boy's clothes are casual but expensive looking. His jeans have rips in them that he paid for. He says, "Not much. Just hang out with us for a while. Mostly answer some questions. While we're all majoring in different fields, we all have research projects with some overlapping interests. We need to interview several people and collect data on a range of topics."

"Why can't you know my name?"

One of the girls takes over. She has brown hair and green eyes. She says, "The interviews need to be anonymous. We're out here looking for students who we don't already know. None of us. We will be asking some deeply personal questions and we need our subjects to be uninhibited. Unconcerned about giving honest answers. No fear of judgment. There can be no history between our test subjects and any of the five of us." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, "Have you ever had a class with any of us? Do you recognize any of us?"

I look at all five of them. I do not know any of them. The not super-tall boy is someone I've seen around campus before, but we've never spoken and have never been introduced. I give an honest answer, "I've never been in a class with any of you."

The not super-tall boy smiles and I get a little tingle from the joy of making someone else happy. With his medium complexion, brown eyes and jet black hair, I suspect he might be from somewhere in South Asia. His dark hair is wavy and hangs down his forehead in tangles. He looks me right in the eyes and I look down at my scuffed kicks.

The black girl says, "So, are you interested? Are you free tonight?" Her hair is pulled back in a severe ponytail and she exudes authority. It makes me squirm a little.

Maybe the interview has already begun. Will I be judged for being free? For not having had plans on a Friday night? Have I already been judged for the clothes I'm wearing, for the way I look, for the way I walk? At the very least, I feel like these things will all be documented as soon as I walk away. The girl who hasn't spoken yet is carrying a closed notebook.

I feel a little weird about this whole thing, but I really need the money. I ask the group of them, "If I say yes, how will this work?"

Back to the super-tall guy, "You'll come over to our place and give us a couple hours of your time. You don't need to bring or prepare anything. Just bring you."

I could so use that money. I sigh, "I'm in. Which dorm are you guys in?"

The quiet girl has blond hair too, but it's a darker blond than tall-boy's. She opens her notebook, removes a business card and hands it to me. She says, "We're not in a dorm. We all share an off-campus house. It's only two blocks away. A short walk."

The card has an address on the front and on the back, in bold type, says, "Control 86".

Feeling a little more at ease I comment, "So you've already done 85 of these interviews?"

The not-so-tall boy seems to blush, but his medium complexion makes it hard to tell. He regards me sheepishly through his dark tangles, "We're just getting started. We figured a card with a 'number 1' on it would scare people off. 86 is just a random starting point."

Tall-boy jabs an elbow in his ribs, "Way to go Zain! Now he knows he's our first."

"He was gonna figure that anyway as we bumble our way through our maiden voyage." Zain rubs his ribs where he took the hit, "And you, Keegan, used my real name." He softly punches the taller boy's arm.

"It's okay," the black girl with the ponytail and the authority declares. "He can know our names. It's his anonymity that we need to protect. "I'm Jada."

"I'm Quincy," says the blond girl.

"And I'm Cass," says the brown haired, green eyed girl.

I say, "Number 86, at your service."

They laugh.

Keegan, formerly known as tall-boy, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. He says, "Half now and half after. Come over at 9:00." He slaps 5 twenties into my palm.

~~

I thought about taking the $100 and just not showing up. They don't know my name or what dorm I'm in. There are 10,000 students on this campus every day. It's reasonable to presume that those 5 people could possibly never see me again. But I'm not that guy. I made a commitment and I'm gonna follow through, even though I'm more than a little nervous. I think my trepidations are well-founded. Afterall, they're not paying $200 for nothing.

I considered changing my clothes but it's splitting hairs to decide what my nicest stuff is. They had told me to bring nothing and to prepare nothing. They chose me out of thousands the way I am, so I decide that's how I'll show up. As I am. In a faded black t-shirt, fraying blue jeans and beat up old DC's that I've worn since I was a Junior in high school. Good enough. Apparently. I run a hand through my light brown hair and I'm as ready as I'll ever be.

I find their house and knock on the door at the stroke of 9:00. It's the tall-boy, I mean Keegan, who answers. He smiles widely when he sees me. Almost like he's relieved. Like maybe he thought I might blow them off. I don't tell him that I actually considered doing just that.

He reaches out his hand and I shake it. This time he does not leave 5 twenties behind. He said I'd get the rest after. His hand is big and strong. I don't know if he plays sports or just spends time in the gym, but he's in good shape. He drapes a heavy arm around my shoulders and guides me inside to the main room. He indicates the empty chair that seems to be the focal point of all the other chairs. He offers me something to drink, but I politely decline.

Keegan shouts out to seemingly no one, but probably everyone, "86 is here!"

They all trickle in from different corners of the house. I ask, "All five of you live here?"

Quincy smiles, "Off campus housing is the best. We have our own bedrooms, two bathrooms and no more dormitory bullshit."

If I had the money I'd move out of the dorms too. Who wouldn't?

Jada clears her throat. She's all business. She tells me, "Keegan wants to be a medical doctor. As an undergraduate, he is a Biology major. Cass is a Sociology major. This semester she is focusing on sexual and gender identity. I am a psychology major and I plan to someday be a relationship slash sex therapist. Zain and Quincy are both business majors. They hope to start a business together after graduation. We will all be here the whole time as there is some overlap in our interests. I'd also like to remind you to answer all questions honestly. We're taking a deep dive here and you may be inclined toward embarrassment, but remember, you don't know us and we don't know you. When you walk out of here in a couple hours, you'll probably never see any of us again. If on the off chance you do, we'll act like we've never met. That's our promise to you."

With the formalities out of the way, Keegan leans forward. "I'm up first." He starts with questions about my family history with heart disease, blood pressure, cholesterol, diabetes and cancer. From there he moves onto my wellness regimen. I tell him that I do cardio - I run four times a week - but I don't get into the gym very often. He wants to know if my family history impacts my decisions in the world of diet and exercise and what exactly my dietary habits are. As a poor college student I eat too much Ramen and not enough fresh vegetables.

Then he moves onto questions about my body and how I compare to my family. He seems disappointed to learn that I am an only child; it eliminates a whole series of questions of comparison in size as well as behaviors with siblings. Instead he focuses on me versus my dad, comparing our height, musculature, weight, body fat, hair color, eye color, body hair, balding, eye sight, hearing loss. What are my dad's wellness habits? Would I be disappointed if I had my dad's body twenty five years from now? (That last one is an easy, "Yes".)

Next he wants my stats. My age - 20. My height - 5' 10". My weight - 145. My waist - 29 inches. My shoe size - 10. He said he was also taking a belly button survey regarding innies and outies. He was curious not only about percentages of each, but factors that might lead to one having an outie versus an innie. Was it a family thing? Was it related to belly fat? I told him that I am an innie and so are both of my parents. He made me prove it, like maybe I was lying. I had to stand up, lift my shirt and show my round innie hole. I ask about his survey's results and he tells me that his data thus far is from too small of a sample size to be conclusive. He did, however, divulge that the five of them comprise of four innies and one outie. I don't know who though. He refuses to out the outie.

Keegan informs me that he'll be taking notes on responses to some of the questions Jada and Cass have for me, but for now, his turn is over. He leans back in his chair and Jada and Cass lean forward. Psychology and Sociology. Okay.

Jada: "Are you happy with your looks?"

Me: I pause to think.

Jada: "Don't think. Just react. Answer quickly. Whatever comes to mind."

Me: "Yes."

Jada: "What about body image? Are you happy with your body?"

Me: "It's a work in progress."

Jada: "Why do you feel that way?"

Me: "I'm lean and healthy. I told you I'm a runner. I need to spend more time, or any time, in the gym."

Jada: "Again, why do you feel that way?"

Me: I shrug. "I would like to be a little more toned. I feel like I'm a bit on the scrawny side."

Jada: "You said you're happy with your looks. Does that not include your body? Is 'scrawny' how you perceive yourself or how you feel others perceive you?"

Me: "I suppose I think of 'looks' as my face, my hair... And no one has...I guess I haven't been teased or bullied about anything since middle school. I'm not ashamed of my body, I just have so little upper body build. Arm-wrestling champion is not in my immediate future."

Cass: "Is that important to you? I mean, I think the arm-wrestling specifically was meant as a joke, but the comparison to others. Do you care?"

Me: "I guess I mostly think about it at the beach or the pool. Places where the shirt comes off."

Jada: "What about your body are you proudest of?"

Me: I pause to think and get scolded again. "My legs," I blurt out.

Cass: "Why?"

Me: I shrug again. "Just the right amount of hair, no gross veins, nicely contoured from years of running. My arms and my legs look like they belong on different bodies."

They all laugh.

Jada: "What do you like least about your body? Or, what would you change if you could?"

Me: I suspect hair or eye color are not what they're looking for here and I've already implied that I don't love my lack of upper body musculature. "The slight mound of belly between my navel and my waistband. I know I'm thin and I do not need to lose weight, but that bump bothers me."

Jada: "How do you feel about your penis size?"

Me: I blush. I wasn't expecting that. "I feel fine."

Jada: "How do you compare to others you've seen?"

Me: "I've only seen a few IRL. I tend to not look around too much in the men's room."

Jada: "What is your length? You've measured, right? Do you know what the average is?"

Me: I promised I wouldn't lie. I happen to know the answers to all of those questions. "I know that the average length of an adult erect penis is a little less than 5.5 inches. I am 6.25 inches." I'm still blushing hard.

Jada: "Do you have a partner?"

Me: "No."

Jada: "How many partners have you had?"

Me: "None."

Jada: "Best guess here. How many times would you estimate that you've had sex?"

Me: My blush deepens. "Zero."

Jada: "Don't restrict your answer to only traditional intercourse. You can count oral and hand jobs. How many sexual experiences have you had?"

Me: I clear my throat, "Zero."

Jada: She turns the page in her notebook. "There are a whole lot of questions that I now won't be asking, but at the same time, there is a new and interesting path to follow. To be clear, you're saying you are a virgin?"

Me: "Yes."

Jada: "Is that your preference? Is it by choice?"

Me: "It's not ideal, but it is what it is."

Jada: "Are you trying to meet someone? Are you looking?"

Me: "Not actively."

Cass: "You're really cute. Any number of people would... Why are you not out there?"

Me: "I have a full schedule."

Jada: "Cass is right. It wouldn't take much effort for you to find someone. What's really stopping you? What are you afraid of? Penis size sounds fine. Is it disease? Or are you afraid of intimacy?"

Me: "I've never been attracted to anyone. That's just it. I've never been compelled to ask anyone out. I haven't felt what I need to feel to consider intimacy."

Jada: "Do you have erectile dysfunction?"

Me: Another blush, "No. It works just fine."

Jada: "How often do you masturbate? On average."

Me: The blushing will never end. "Four times a week."

Cass: "What are your pronouns?"

Me: That throws me off balance. "He, him, his."

Cass: "So, you identify as male?"

Me: "Yes."

Cass: "What is your sexual orientation?"

Me: "From what choices?"

Cass: "I set no parameters."

Me: "I'm not a huge fan of labels. Can I pick 'questioning'?"

Cass: She makes a note and nods. "What do you think about while you're masturbating?"

Me: "Nothing. It's like a meditative experience. I clear my thoughts and focus on the sensation."

Keegan: "Dude! Seriously? No fantasies? That's gotta be a lie!"

Jada: "Shut up, Keegan.

Cass: "Do you know what The Kinsey Scale is?"

Me: I shake my head.

Cass: It's a sexuality scale that ranges from 0 to 6. Zero being 100% heterosexual, 3 being evenly bisexual and 6 being 100% gay. I find the scale too limiting. I like to use a 1 to 99 scale. 1 and 99 because I believe that no one is 100% anything. The most heterosexual person you can imagine would be 1/99 and the gayest person you could imagine would be 99/1. And there is no 50/50 either. Everyone has to lean at least a little one way or the other. Where are you on the scale?"

Me: This time I don't get scolded for taking a moment to calculate my answer. "25/75."

Jada: "You haven't had feelings for anyone yet, but have you ever been attracted to anyone?"

Me: "Not anyone who I actually know."

Cass: "Do you imagine yourself ever being with anyone?"

Me: "I don't imagine being a virgin my whole life, but I can't say I imagine marriage and kids either. I really don't know."

Cass: "Of the three girls here, who do you find to be the most attractive?"

Me: Without thinking I blurt out, "Quincy."

Cass: "Interesting. Same question for the boys. Who do you find more attractive, Keegan or Zain."

Me: Again, zero hesitation, "Zain."

Cass: "Huh."

Keegan: "Hold up a sec. Did you understand the question?"

Jada is laughing her ass off. She says, "You have to understand, 86, Keegan here thinks he's the hottest guy on campus and God's gift to all women everywhere. Out of like 5000 guys! You just exploded his brain."

Cass: "You have to admit, Quincy and Keegan are pretty much each other's counterparts. They both have the blond hair, the blue eyes, the perfect tan, the high cheek bones, the athletic build. They are the male and female equivalents of each other. Why did you pick Quincy over Jada and I?"

Me: "Honestly? Because she's the only one who hasn't asked me intimate, embarrassing questions yet."

Cass: "Fair. And why Zain over Keegan?"

Me: "Keegan is probably right. Out of 10,000 kids on campus I wouldn't be surprised if 9900+ picked Keegan over Zain. But to me, his looks are too perfect. Almost unreal. Like he's a Ken Doll or something. No offense."

Keegan: "Whatever." But he looks offended.

Cass: "So just to clarify, was picking Zain about picking Zain or was it about not picking Keegan?"

I glance at Zain and he's busy staring down at his feet. I clear my throat.

Me: "I can't imagine who I would have picked over Zain."

Cass makes a note and Jada says, "That concludes the interview portion of tonight's proceedings. Quincy and Zain are about to do their thing."

What is "their thing"? They said they were business majors, right? I have less than no money. Certainly they don't want to know about my thoughts on economics, investing or finance. Besides, Jada said the interview is over. I peek at my phone and it's only been about 30 minutes. I still have a good 90 minutes to go. But 90 minutes of what?

Zain must be reading my mind because he says, "Jada told you that Quincy and I plan to go into business together after graduation. That business will have a few different components to it, but it will focus on massage therapy. We are both already certified massage therapists, but we are looking for test subjects as we attempt to offer some unique specialties. These specialties are not taught in school. We've watched some online videos, but now we feel we're ready for a live patient."

"So, you want to give me a massage?" I ask.

"Not a regular massage," says Quincy. "This one is specifically for men. Have you ever heard of Lingam Massage?"

I shake my head.

Zain continues, "Lingam Massage is a type of tantric penis massage that was developed just in recent decades. The process of a Lingam Massage is designed to combine feelings of well-being with deep relaxation, and helps receivers let go of pent-up stress related to relationship or self-esteem issues, including those related to sexuality. Lingam Massage is not the same as a typical erotic massage with a happy ending. To be clear, the goal of this practice has nothing to do with ejaculation. It is an authentic tantric penis massage that only sometimes culminates in a physical climax. We are looking to practice our delivery technique as well as gather data on why one test subject may reach orgasm while another does not."