The Office Visit
I had my “exam” today. Yeah, it is the yearly exam that takes me 18 months to do. I need the extra 6 months to get my courage up. As I waited for the doctor the thought came to my mind that if my son came home and told me he wanted to be a doctor, I would probably be happy and encourage him. But what if he also told me he wanted to be a urologist? Would I start to wonder about him then? I mean really, what kind of guy wants to spend his time looking up the rectums of other men? A gay guy that’s who!
If you think about it, you see that the whole urology thing is a play world for them. Why do you have to access and examine the function of a man’s sex organs through his anus? Now think about it girls. When you go to the gynecologist do they bend you over and look up your butt? Of course not! It just would not make sense. Every thing you need to see is in the front, not the back. So why does it make sense to bend us over? There is really no logical explanation for it other than the whole specialty is geared toward the gratification of gay men. Are there any female urologists? We need some.
But as I continued to ponder, I was comforted only by the memory of the last time I had my exam. It was over in seconds. I had told myself it would be alright as I had remembered the doctor as being a very professional and no nonsense type of guy. He came in, got right to business and it was over before I had the opportunity to feel any shame or embarrassment about the situation. I looked forward to the same thing.
However, to my chagrin, a new guy appeared in the room. Suddenly I felt myself feeling nervous and scared as sweat began to trickle from my armpits and down my sides. He was a younger man with a high pitched voice. A high pitched voice! I thought, “This is how they get you.” It’s the old bait and switch, but with a more sinister agenda. The first doctor was the “indoctrination” doctor. He is the one that gets you comfortable so you will come back again. Then they slip this guy in on you, the effeminate one with the limp thermometer and extra long fingers. He is the “initiation” doctor. He asks you, with a subtle lisp, “Are you ready?” It is too late to run out. I saw the head nurse and she was much too big for me to maneuver around. So now what do I do? Suddenly, I had a flash back to a scene from that documentary, “Scared Straight” where one of the convicts talked about the possibility of being gang raped in prison. He said you try to fight them off and if you can’t fight them off you just have to “take it like a man.” Take it like a man?!
“Drop ‘em!” he said forcefully. SNAP, SNAP, was the sound of the gloves as he eagerly put them on and ran to the medicine cabinet for his assistant, Mister KY! I began to feel like I was on the wrong end of a Dominatrix experience. I was compelled, by his authority, to heed his command. I felt so weak, so vulnerable. Then it happened. He put it in. That long, slender foreign invader he called a finger. Deeper and deeper he probed. It was as though I could feel every wrinkle on his skin and every curve of his knuckles. Yes knuckles! Could his finger really be in that far? I was beginning to wonder exactly what it was I was really being probed with. Had I been victimized by the ultimate bait and switch? I felt so violated, so beaten. All he had to do was slap me and say, “Who’s your daddy?” I would have whimpered, “You’re my daddy, daddy.” Deeper and deeper he probed. He twisted it and turned it as though in search of something lost long ago. The more it twisted, the more it turned and the deeper he probed, the more it seemed my manliness and dignity slipped away from me.
Then suddenly, he was done! I turned around only to see the blue blur of his scrubs as he fled the room like a criminal leaving the scene of a crime. He was gone and I was left there standing with my pants around my ankles, KY jelly in the deepest recesses of my anus and a stream of toilet paper in my quivering hand. It took all of my remaining strength and self esteem to keep from crying. I got cleaned up as best I could. However, I could still feel the squishy KY jelly between my butt cheeks as I slinked pass the nurse. She looked at me and smirked, as if to say, “Got another one.” I hung my head and left the office.
When I got home I showered for over an hour, wondering. Wondering…will he call me?
Written by:
@ewjjr
http://ewjtoday.blogspot.com
-----
Bring A Smile To Someone's Day
http://ow.ly/1z4j1b
No comments:
Post a Comment