Claire's visit to the college doctor

Discussion in 'The Big Bookshelf' started by Sophie, Jan 20, 2018.

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    Claire Turner switched out the light before closing and locking her door in the Medway student block. It was just two flights down to the ground level and as she skipped carelessly down the staircase, she could smell the stale air and mingled aromas of numerous student breakfasts. Most of them, she thought to herself, were barely able to manage even a slice of toast before lectures started at 9 in the teaching building. Claire, on the other hand, preferred healthier options such as fruit and cereals. On leaving the building, the colder air was noticeable in her nose. She’d felt that tell-tale roughness in her throat a few days ago and had decided to ignore it. But now, the pain in her sinuses suggested an infection had started to get established, so she figured she’d better see a doctor before it got too bad. End of term exams only two weeks away, after all, and she didn’t want to feel rotten for those.

    The student medical centre was on the far side of campus and she pulled her coat close to her against the chill, March wind as she walked past the law library and the chemistry building. After a few minutes, she reached the small, brick building and entered the double doors marked ‘Student Health.’ The receptionist behind the desk was a smartly dressed, middle aged woman who looked up from her screen with an unconvincing half-smile which suggested she’d rather be somewhere else.

    ‘Yes? Can I help you miss?’ Her monotone gave the same impression.

    ‘Oh.. yes. I’ve come to see a doctor. It’s my throat, I…’

    ‘Name?’ The receptionist now looked back to her screen and clattered at her keyboard.

    ‘Turner. Claire Turner.’

    ‘Undergraduate?’

    ‘Undergraduate. Yes. I’m a first year,’ she added, with an upward inflection.

    ‘Sore throat, you say. Anything else?’ she looked up again, not really any more kindly than the first time.

    ‘It’s been a few days now. I think it’s starting to develop into a full blown infection though.’ More clattering of the keyboard and the receptionist furrowed her brow in concentration.

    ‘Go through. Dr Kinnaman. He’ll call you when he’s ready.’ She gestured to her right and the door to the waiting room. No one else here, she thought. Good. Shouldn’t have to wait too long. Her guess was right, as it turned out. No sooner had she picked up a dog eared copy of ‘Elle’ from the table, a voice called her name.

    ‘Claire Turner?’ It was a pleasant baritone and she looked up to see a tall man in a white coat standing at the corner of the corridor. He smiled and extended his hand as if to beckon her. She got up and walked towards him. He appeared to be about 40 years of age and well-built. Healthy sort, she thought. Probably into exercise. He had a kind face and she was immediately put at her ease as she followed him in down the corridor to his office. It seemed surprisingly active and busy with people, she thought. Not at all the impression the exterior of the building had given her. On the contrary, this seemed like the main corridor in a large hospital with numerous doctors, nurses and patients going about their business. They came to a door about half way down and he opened it, guiding her in to his consulting room. The plate read ‘Dr A Kinnaman – Physician’.

    The room was larger than a typical doctor’s office and had a good deal of equipment and cabinets. From the ceiling in the centre extended a large, articulated metal arm holding various things she assumed to be x-ray cameras and lights of some kind. The arm was positioned directly above an elaborate examination table which had multiple, tilting sections and stirrups for the legs. She shuddered slightly at the sight of the latter; she’d only had a few gynaecological exams, but they were always rather unpleasant and embarrassing. She was glad that this visit was only for a throat infection. Claire noticed a second door to the office on the left hand wall, close to the table and wondered briefly why the room needed two doors. She was aware of that vague, clinical smell of disinfectant and other medical substances. It was reassuring and emphasised how clean and tidy the room was, but at the same time it engendered that slight sense of anxiety she always had when visiting the doctor.

    ‘Do sit down, Miss Turner, please.’ He indicated to the chair positioned in front of his desk and waited politely for her to sit down before taking his own seat behind it. He called up her records on the university database and peered at the screen. ‘Claire Louise Turner. 16.4.98’ he paused, looking up at her for confirmation. ‘That you?’

    ‘Yes, doctor. That’s correct.’

    ‘So,’ he smiled at her, ‘what seems to be the problem?’ She proceeded to relay her recent symptoms and history and shuffled slightly on her chair as he got up and came around the desk to her.

    ‘Ok, let’s have a listen, shall we?’ He took hold of the bell of his stethoscope and nodded towards her chest. She immediately realised what he was meaning and started to un-button the white cotton blouse. She laughed nervously,

    ‘Oh.. yes. Sorry. Of course.’ He smiled back at her, crouching beside her chair.

    ‘These things don’t work too well through cotton, I’m afraid!’

    ‘No. Of course..’ she laughed nervously again as she untucked the tails of the blouse and opened it to reveal her lightly tanned chest. ‘Do you need me to take my bra off too?’

    ‘Oh no, don’t worry about that,’ he replied. ‘I can work around it.’ She shuffled forward slightly and pushed her chest towards him as he gently placed the stethoscope just above her bra. She was surprised at the slight sense of embarrassment she felt at even this modest exposure. Although she was relieved she didn’t have to take it off, she was acutely aware that the upper part of her breasts were visible and she wished, in hindsight, that she’d worn a different bra. ‘Breathe in and out slowly please.’ As she complied with his request, he moved the stethoscope from place to place and listened intently. After a minute or so, he dropped the stethoscope to his chest and looked up at her. ‘Well, you are a bit crackly. Probably a minor chest infection starting there. Let’s take a look at that throat too shall we?’ He took a pen torch out of his top pocket and she opened her mouth obediently as he peered in. ‘Yes.. that’s a bit red too. Nothing a short course of antibiotics won’t put right,’ he said as he took his seat again. ‘Probably only a virus, but better be on the safe side, eh?’

    ‘Oh. Yes, doctor.’ She went to button up her blouse again, but as she did so, he spoke again.

    ‘Just a sec, of you don’t mind. Before you do that.’ Claire looked up at him, puzzled. She had a assumed the consultation was over.

    ‘Is there something else?’ she asked. He didn’t reply immediately. He was scribbling what she assumed to be a prescription and mumbling quietly to himself as he did so. ‘It’s just… I assumed we were done.’ He tore a sheet off his pad and handed it to her.

    ‘There you go. Amoxycillin. Five days. That will do the trick.’ He sat back and put his hands behind his head, looking at her. The intensity of his gaze was slightly off putting and she wasn’t sure if she should repeat her question. But as she sat there, feeling mildly awkward in her bra, he spoke, as if anticipating her. ‘Since you’re here, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping us with a spot of research we’re doing?’

    ‘Research?’ she repeated. ‘Um.. I’m not sure what you mean?’ He sat forward and continued.

    ‘Well. Here at the health centre, we’re running a small study for the Department of Human Anatomy. It might end up being published in a scientific journal if we can get enough data. We have about 20 subjects already on file, but we probably need double that, ideally.’

    ‘Subjects?’ asked Claire. This piqued her interest. Her degree was in biochemistry and she hoped to go into scientific research herself, if it went well. ‘What sort of research is it?’

    ‘Well.’ He paused, looking down briefly at his desk. ‘Essentially we are collecting a data series about anatomical and physiological parameters of normal, healthy females. It’s to establish a baseline set of data which will be enormously valuable in assessing a variety of problems in women’s health.’

    ‘Oh. Ok.’ She tried to sound more intelligent than she actually felt. She believed strongly that women’s health was a very important issue and she felt she wanted to be able with such a useful sounding project. Nevertheless, she wanted to know a little more about what she might be letting herself in for. ‘Um.. what kind of things?’

    ‘I beg your pardon?’

    ‘I mean. What kind of things would you be measuring?’ He smiled.

    ‘Well. A variety of things. But essentially, we need anatomical information about the female reproductive system, measurements, shapes and sizes. That sort of thing.’ Claire could feel heat rushing to her cheeks.

    ‘Oh.’ She said. Almost wishing she hadn’t asked. She looked down, feeling rather silly that she was showing signs of embarrassment. She liked to think of herself as a feminist and hated the idea that discussion of female anatomy was making her blush in front of a man. Trying to compose herself, she looked up and met the doctor’s gaze. ‘Right. Yes. I see.’ She felt she was giving a good impression of serious interest, despite the butterflies in her stomach. ‘Sounds most interesting.’ This seemed to surprise the doctor slightly and he replied animatedly,

    ‘Really? So you’d be happy to take part? Be a subject for the study, I mean?’ Cocking her head slightly to the side, Claire was keen to give the impression that she was a serious, confident young woman and not some gawky kid. Nevertheless, she wasn’t quite sure just yet and had a question that she couldn’t resist asking.

    ‘Um.. will any of it hurt?’ Dr Kinnaman laughed gently and replied reassuringly,

    ‘Oh gosh no. Not at all. It’s merely measurements and a few photos.’

    ‘Photos?’ her hard-wrought composure faltered slightly. ‘What kind of photos?’

    ‘We need to take some high resolution images of your body for topographical anatomy studies. We have a special camera. See?’ he indicated up above his head to the mechanical arm she had spotted on her way in.

    ‘Oh. Right. Yes. I did wonder what that was.’ She paused. ‘Um..of my body, you say? You mean..?’ She was reddening again and it annoyed her.

    ‘Of your breasts and vulva, yes,’ he replied, immediately understanding her question. ‘It’s ok, the images are completely anonymised and are stored securely on the research server. Once they are analysed, we delete them.’ She laughed nervously and made a shrugging motion which she hoped was convincing.

    ‘Oh of course. Yes. Of course. I knew that’s what you meant.’ She paused. ‘Yes. Absolutely. You’d have to do that. Quite understand.’ Now she thought she was overdoing it a bit and felt slightly foolish.

    ‘How does that sound? Do you think you’d be able to be a volunteer?’ He asked again. She was nodding more vigorously than she actually felt. There was a conflict within her. While she dreaded the idea of such an intimate examination, she also felt it was important to take part. Not least because she didn’t want the doctor to think she was prudish.

    ‘Yes. Sure. Why not? Absolutely fine.’ She sat up and started to smooth down her skirt, nervously, as if to displace her anxiety to somewhere else. ‘When would this be… err… done? The examination, I mean.’

    ‘Why now, of course. You’re here. We may as well do it now.’ She hadn’t quite expected this, but it did explain why he stopped her putting her blouse back on.

    ‘Now? Right. Yes. Of course.’

    ‘That is. Unless you have any objection?’ She shook her head.

    ‘No. Gosh no. Absolutely fine. How long will it take, as a matter of interest?’

    ‘Oh, no more than an hour. Are you ok for time?’

    ‘Yes. I don’t have lectures on Tuesdays this term.'

    ‘Excellent. Right then, let’s just set up a subject record for you on the system.’ Dr Kinnaman started to type her details into the database. Claire stood up.

    ‘Do you need me to get undressed now?’

    ‘Not just yet, Miss Turner. Remain seated for a few minutes. I just need a few more pieces of information from you before we begin.’ Feeling slightly relieved, she sat down again. ‘Ok. When was your first menstrual period?’ She had to think about that for a second or two.

    ‘Let me see.. I was 11. Pretty sure it was just before my twelfth birthday. Say a month or two before that.’

    ‘Ok. Great. Thanks. Are you a virgin?’ She laughed, nervously.

    ‘Am I a virgin? No. ‘fraid not.’ She smiled. She wanted him to see her as a grown woman so was gratified she didn’t have to lie about such a thing to seem more mature. But the truth was, she had only lost her virginity the previous year.

    ‘So when did you first have intercourse?’ Damn, she thought. But felt she should answer as truthfully as possible nevertheless.

    ‘When I was .. um.. 18’ she replied. The doctor looked up, unable to completely conceal the surprise on his face.

    ‘Oh. So last year then?’

    ‘Last year. Yes.’

    ‘And how many sexual partners have you had?’ The truth was, she had only had sex with one person. But she felt this would make her sound lame, so she lied.

    ‘Err.. three.’ She watched his face for any signs that he might not believe her, but he had no reason to, after all. It was a plausible enough answer. His face remained impassive.

    ‘Ok.’ He entered her answer into the database. ‘And when did you start masturbating?’ This took her by surprise,

    ‘I’m sorry?’ she replied.

    ‘Masturbation.. how old were you when you started?’ Seeing her hesitancy, he added, with a smile, ‘you do masturbate, I take it?’ She blushed.

    ‘Oh. Um.. yes. Sometimes.’

    ‘So what age were you when you first did it?’ She frowned. This was a tough one.

    ‘I’m.. err.. not really sure. I can’t remember the exact time.’

    ‘Roughly.’

    ‘I s’pose about ten?’ she offered, waiting to judge by his reaction whether that was a reasonable answer. She was pretty sure she had started earlier than that, but wasn’t sure if it would sound a bit sexually precocious. Again, he made no visible expression and merely entered the number into the database.

    ‘Good. And what is your preferred method?’

    ‘Method?’ she repeated.

    ‘Yes. How do you usually masturbate?’ She wasn’t at all sure she was comfortable discussing something so intimate.

    ‘Is this strictly…’ but then she regained her composure and remembered that she was trying to appear worldly and unembarrassed. ‘Just fingers. Mostly just that.’

    ‘You mean you rub your clitoris?’

    ‘Um..yep.’ She hoped that the shorter the answer, the quicker he’d move on. Claire looked intently at the wall behind him, trying to avoid meeting his eyes.

    ‘Ok. So you wouldn’t say you usually insert anything. Vaginally?’

    ‘Um.. no. Not really. Again. Only my fingers.’

    ‘Ok. And vibrators? Do you use a vibrator?’

    ‘No. I don’t have one.’

    ‘Ok. Good. Thanks.’ He got up and went over to the exam table. He pressed a switch and re-positioned some of the sections then moved the overhead arm down slightly. ‘That’s about it for the preliminaries. Perhaps you could pop behind the screen there and slip out of your clothes for me?’ Claire looked up at him, trying not to show the nervousness that boiled inside her.

    ‘Um. Ok. All of them?’

    ‘Yes please,’ he replied. ‘All of them. Don’t worry. I’ll cover most of you with a drape and we’ll only expose you as much as is necessary.’ She stood up and walked over to the screen in the corner of the room.

    ‘Oh, it’s ok.’ She was trying to convince herself as much as him. ‘I don’t mind that.’ Behind the screen, feeling temporarily less anxious, she slipped off her shoes, unclasped her bra and then stepped out of her skirt, folding them neatly on the chair. Only her socks and panties remained and she was grateful for how warm the room felt now that she was mostly undressed. She wasn’t sure if she should keep her socks on. But they’d look rather silly as her only remaining garment, she thought, as the panties would have to come off, for sure. He’d made that pretty clear. So she slipped off both and stood naked looking for some sort of gown. She really didn’t fancy the thought of walking the few feet to the table completely naked. ‘Err.. doctor..?’ she called out.

    ‘Yes?’

    ‘I just wondered. Is there a gown for me to wear?’

    ‘No. I’m afraid not. For this, we find that gowns just get in the way. I’ll drape you though. Once you’re on the table.’

    ‘Oh. Ok.’ She steeled herself and walked out from behind the screen, hoping to cover the distance to the exam table as quickly as possible. She wanted to get under that drape! To her surprise, he was watching her as she walked over to him. She had thought the least he could do was to look away. His expression was fairly blank and she wasn’t sure if this pleased her or not. She knew she had a good body and surely any man – especially one of his age – should find the sight of it arousing. But then again, she thought, he must have seen lots of women naked. The idea of being flattered at his attention suddenly seemed foolish. She sat on the edge of the table, about mid-way along its length, trying to work out what exact position he would want her in. She looked up at him for guidance, acutely aware of her own nakedness and the contrast with him, fully clothed.

    ‘Just spin round for me and pop your legs on these,’ he said, indicating the two separate panels at the foot of the table. They were slightly separated and putting her legs on top of them meant she had to open her legs slightly too. This felt uncomfortably exposed and she looked down at the soft, brown tufts of her bush hoping not too much more was on show. She kept herself regularly trimmed down there and was pleased to remember that her last tidy-up was only a few days before. But even the thought of that seemed inappropriate to her. This was a doctor, after all, not a boyfriend. Why should such niceties matter? But matter they did. There was no getting away from it. She couldn’t entirely separate the sexual from the medical in her own mind and took a feminine pride in her appearance, whatever the situation. ‘That’s it. Now, lie back and pop your head on the rest and your arms on these.’ She lay back and felt the cool, black surface of the table against her skin. It was well padded and seemed to be covered in some kind of rubberised fabric. She tried to relax as much as she could, but felt very much ‘on show’ as he stood at the foot of the table looking up, along her body. Surely from that position, she thought, he must be able to see between her slightly separated legs and her… But she tried to maintain her composure and tried hard to think neutral thoughts to stop the blood rushing to her cheeks.

    To Claire’s relief, Dr Kinnaman now produced a green hospital drape and proceeded to cover her nakedness, carefully ensuring it fitted properly over her from ankles to shoulders. She immediately felt more at ease and even managed a smile.

    ‘Ok?’ he asked. ‘Comfortable?’ She nodded and grinned awkwardly at him. He went back to his desk briefly and returned to her side holding a tablet.

    ‘What’s that for?’ she asked. Looking down at the tablet in his hand, he replied,

    ‘This? Oh just an iPad which is synced with the database. Saves me having to go back and forth to my desk to enter each measurement.’

    ‘Oh. Yes, I can see that would be more convenient.’ She tried to smile at him in a relaxed way, but despite the fact that the drape made her feel less exposed, she couldn’t help imagining the kind of things what would be taking place.

    ‘Right then. Let’s get started shall we?’ he looked at her as if for an answer, but she felt he was only being polite and was going to proceed in any case. ‘I’m going to start with your breasts, if I may?’

    ‘Ok doctor.’ Claire looked down as he gently rolled the drape down to her midriff revealing her breasts. She felt her breasts were one of her better female attributes and looked up to see him looking at them. Once again, she wondered about the nature of his gaze. Was it purely medical? Or was he also appreciating them as a man? They were not large breasts (a mere 34B), but they were a near perfect shape and her nipples were smooth and dainty, she felt. Dr Kinnaman gently took her right breast in his hand and ran a tape around it, noting the measurement. He then proceeded to make various other measurements from her nipple to the edge of the globe, the diameter of her areola and so on. His touch felt rather pleasant and he was most delicate, which she appreciated given that her period was approaching and she was more sensitive than usual there. Any firmer handling would have been uncomfortable for her. Painful even. He repeated all the measurements on her other breast and entered all the values into the iPad. Lying there like that and having him handle her breasts so tenderly was starting to make her slightly aroused. She tried to think unsexy thoughts as she didn’t want him to see any evidence that she was getting turned on. That would have been terribly embarrassing. But she could feel the inevitable moistening between her legs and felt sure he’d notice when the time came to examine her sex.

    ‘Ok, I need to make some volume measurements now, Miss Turner. It might be a little uncomfortable, but I’ll do my best not to hurt you.’ He reached over for a circular plastic caliper which he opened out and placed around the base of her breast before closing it until it just started to squeeze slightly. ‘Now, I just need to tighten this enough that it feels like a fairly firm grasp. Can you let me know when to stop please?’

    ‘Ok, doctor.’

    ‘Imagine your boyfriend is fondling it moderately firmly.’ She blushed slightly at this and thought it slightly inappropriate language to be using in this context, but she complied nevertheless as he started to tighten the device.

    ‘Ok. Doctor. That feels quite firm now.’ He stopped immediately and read off the value from the caliper.

    ‘Good,’ he said, as he unfastened it and applied it to her other breast instead. ‘Thanks. Now for the other one.’ When he’d done similarly, he put the caliper away and produced a small metal object about the size and shape of a thimble. Now, this is a little like the previous one, but measures the exact size and volume of your nipple. I hope it doesn’t tickle too much!’ Again, Claire laughed nervously as he placed the small cup over her nipple and started to adjust the screw. She could feel the cup getting smaller as he did so and fitting her nipple ever more snugly. Coming right after his handling of her breasts, this sensation was all the more intense and she could feel her sexual tension mounting as the cool metal gently squeezed her sensitive nipple. There was no mistaking the wetness leaking from her now and she felt her face flushing. He seemed to sense this,

    ‘Is everything ok, Miss Turner? I’m not hurting you am I?’ She swallowed, before answering him.

    ‘No, doctor.. no, it’s ok.. Thank you.’ No sooner had she spoken than she thought to herself just what it was she was thanking him for! He read off the measurement finally and entered it into the iPad before repeating the procedure on the other nipple. This was even more stimulating than before and she briefly worried herself with the prospect that she might lose control of herself. But she quickly checked this thought as ‘silly’ and tried to think of her tutorial essay as a diversion.

    ‘Ok, thanks. That’s great,’ he said, placing the small device back in the adjacent instrument tray. ‘So.. almost done with your top half. Just the imaging to do now.’ Claire had temporarily forgotten about the photographs. Something about this made her uneasy as she had no control over what would happen to such intimate images after the consultation. Of course, she had no reason to doubt his professionalism and his reassurances, but nevertheless the worry nagged her. She tried to relax as he manipulated the large and slightly scary looking mechanical arm over her body to get the camera in exactly the right position. He then positioned the two lights, one to her left and one to her right, and switched them on. They were very powerful and she could feel the warmth of the lamps against her skin. He flipped a switch on the large wall monitor and instantly a greatly magnified image of her breasts appeared. The screen had a fine array of rulers and cross hairs which she assumed were for accurate positioning and measurement. Using a small handheld remote, he clicked away, taking image after image of all kinds of views of her breasts, both singly and together. Then he zoomed right in to fill the screen with her nipples. Her slight anxiety and embarrassment were balanced with a certain fascination at seeing her own body in such unfamiliar detail. After about five minutes or so, he moved the camera and lights back up and replaced the drape over her breasts. Now, was to come – presumably – the part she had been dreading the most. It was as though he could read her thoughts, because he drew up a stool beside the table and spoke to her in a calm and reassuring tone.

    ‘Ok then, Miss Turner. That’s all gone very well. Not too uncomfortable for you, I hope?’

    ‘No doctor, that wasn’t too bad,’ she replied, still acutely aware of the moistness between her legs and dreading him looking closely and discovering it.

    ‘Good girl,’ he continued. She balked somewhat at this rather condescending term. She was, after all, a woman of 19. ‘So the second part of the examination is the one you’re probably feeling a bit apprehensive about, I dare say. That’s only natural as it concerns such a private part of your body.’

    ‘Oh no, doctor,’ she lied. ‘It’s ok. I don’t mind. I’ve had examinations down there before and it was ok.’ He laughed softly and kindly, indicated he wasn’t altogether convinced.

    ‘Well, look, I’ll go as quickly as I can so we can get finished and have you up and dressed as soon as possible. Ok?’

    ‘Ok, doctor. Thank you.’ Again, she wasn’t quite sure what she was thanking him for. It just sort of came out. He stood up and started to slowly roll back the drape from her ankles, up over her calves and thighs and revealing her hips before laying the drape just above her navel. She could feel the coolness as her exposed skin radiated its heat. He then reached down and to the side of the table.

    ‘Now, I need to lift your legs a little, Miss Turner, and separate them a little more. I hope you don’t mind. I need to get a good view for this stage.’

    ‘Um..ok, doctor,’ she replied, feeling a growing sense of trepidation. She had hoped that he could do what he had to do with her legs in this stretched out and slightly open position, but it was clear that he would have to put her in that dreaded ‘legs up’ position. He pushed a button and the two parts of the table on which her legs rested started to move upwards and to the side making a mechanical sound. This caused her knees to bend and her thighs to be lifted up and widely apart. He had moved the stool to the foot of the table and he now sat down right between her widely open legs. She felt a hot flush of embarrassment as she looked down over her belly to see him gazing directly at her sex. He muttered something slightly inaudible which sounded a little like the word ‘lovely.’ Surely not? she thought, horrified, as it seemed like such an inappropriate word to use under the circumstances. But then she thought that maybe he was merely referring to the good positioning of her legs. Or maybe she just misheard him. Either way, she still felt terribly exposed and uncomfortable. Sexually vulnerable in a way that seemed to her uniquely female. She also noticed, for the first time, that the table was positioned in such a way that the second door to the office was directly ahead of her; at the foot of the table, behind Dr Kinnaman. This made her feel more uncomfortable still, since anyone coming through the door would also get a completely clear view between her open legs. She hoped it was securely locked. Nevertheless, it was just another element of the situation that made her anxious.

    Dr Kinnaman shuffled forward between her legs. Good grief! She thought. Is he not close enough already? But it seemed not, as he had moved the stool so his face was a mere foot from her genitals. Leaning forward, he gently parted her lips with his fingers and she felt her most intimate parts open up to him. Once again, she thought of the moisture and whether he could see evidence of her earlier excitement; surely he’d be able to. Would he comment on it? She presumed not, as that would be a violation of professional conduct. However, to her horror, he made a couple of sniffing noises, as if he were smelling something. What on earth? Did she imagine it? No. There it was again, a slight, almost inaudible sniff. She flinched in embarrassment as she hastily thought back to her shower of that morning. It had been a bit rushed, admittedly, as her alarm had not gone off. But she always washed between her legs, of course. But how well? Had she perhaps been less careful on this occasion? Was there an odour? Her cheeks burned with shame. She knew sometimes there was a perceptible odour down there, however clean everything was. It seemed to go with her monthly cycle. Here she was in probably the last few days before her period. Could it be that he was smelling her? She was mortified at the thought and tried desperately to banish it from her thoughts. No longer did she feel the arousal of earlier. Now she felt only awkwardness and distress. She wanted it to be over, but she knew it had only just begun.

    He reached behind him for a plastic ruler and started to take measurements of various aspects of her vulva. She could feel his warm fingertips touching her, opening, peeling back, probing the delicate flesh. She could feel the cool plastic of the ruler. Now something colder, harder. Metal perhaps?

    ‘Umm.. what’s that, doctor?’ she asked, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice.

    ‘Oh it’s just a caliper, Miss Turner. I need to measure the thickness of your lips and various other things. I’m not hurting you am I? Please let me know if anything is uncomfortable.’

    ‘Oh no, it’s ok, doctor. I just wanted to know what it was, that’s all. It’s ok.’ She paused before continuing. ‘Um.. is everything ok down there?’ He looked up and along her belly at her.

    ‘Ok?’

    ‘I mean, is it all looking ok? Normal, I mean?’ He smiled, reassuringly.

    ‘Oh yes. Quite normal. Nothing to worry about.’

    ‘Oh. Ok. That’s good. Thank you, doctor.’ He looked mildly quizzical for a moment.

    ‘There is one thing.’ Her heart, skipped a beat. What had he found?

    ‘Oh? What is it, doctor?’

    ‘Well… it looks like you masturbate quite often.’ She was horrified and felt a surge of shock in her chest. Indignation, even. How dare he?! How could he know that? Again, it was as though he’d read her mind. ‘It’s just that you have quite an enlarged clitoris.’

    ‘Do I?’ she gasped.

    ‘Yes. It’s generally only found in female bodybuilders who take steroids. I presume that doesn’t apply to you?’ Before giving her time to respond, he went on. ‘Either that, or in women who masturbate a great deal.’ Now her embarrassment was complete. It was true. She had often wondered if there was something wrong with her. She did indeed masturbate a great deal, or at least she presumed it was a great deal. Even though she had a boyfriend, she would usually masturbate more than once a day. But what should she say? She really didn’t want to speak about that with him. Doctor or not! But she could hardly pretend she was a bodybuilder! Her cheeks were hot and she couldn’t find any words. He went on, ‘how often would you say you masturbate?’

    ‘Oh… um… I honestly don’t know.’ What could she say to such a question? ‘About average, I guess.’

    ‘Really? Looks like considerably more than average to me. Well.. never mind. It’s not that important. But if you were able to estimate, it would be helpful to know. For the study.’ She gulped. She had to say something.

    ‘A few times a week, maybe?’ she hoped this sounded more convincing to him than it did to her.

    ‘Hmm.. really?’ His shrug spoke volumes, he clearly didn’t believe her. But he didn’t pursue it. He must thing me such a slut, she thought. First the wetness, then the smell, now this! She desperately wanted to be out of there, but he had now stood up and seemed to be looking around for something. He was muttering curses to himself.

    ‘Is there anything the matter doctor?’ she asked, sheepishly.

    ‘Oh it’s just a piece of equipment I need. Can’t seem to find the damn thing.’ He continued shuffling around, opening drawers, looking on shelves. To no avail, it seemed. ‘I expect one of my colleagues has one. I’ll just pop down the corridor and …’ he seemed distracted, only half talking to her and half to himself, clearly annoyed with himself. With that – and to Claire’s utter dismay – he opened the second door (which, it turned out, was not locked as she had hoped) and walked right out of it leaving it wide open! It seemed to lead on to an even busier corridor than the one she had entered through and anyone passing now had an unimpeded view of her exposed genitals. She wasn’t sure what to do. It was quite an awkward position she was in and trying to lean forward to cover herself risked losing the drape altogether. She could maybe get up and try and close the door, but what if he was only going to be a few seconds? He might come back and find her off the table; surely this would irritate him. A few people had already passed by. Fortunately, two had been female and none of them had turned to look into the room. Damn it! How much longer was he going to be? Just then she heard a metallic clanking noise and a few moments later there appeared at the door an oldish man with grey, wispy hair and wearing a brown coverall. He was carrying a bucket with a mop in it and appeared to be some kind of cleaner or janitor. To her utter horror, he stopped and turned towards the open doorway. Seeing her lying there, he grinned lasciviously and she could see a number of teeth missing. He looked furtively from side to side up and down the corridor as if to check if the coast was clear, then he entered the office.

    Despite her inner turmoil – a combination of extreme embarrassment and indignation at such an outrage – or perhaps because of it, Claire was frozen and seemed entirely unable to move. The old man had now put his bucket down and was peering shamelessly down between her legs giving the impression he wasn’t in the least bit concerned about her situation. He leaned forward slightly, to get a better look, and she saw his moist pink tongue appear between his lips which parted wetly with lust. He sneered slightly, never taking his eyes off her genitals. Finally, he spoke. Still he did not meet her eyes, but remained intently focused between her widely spread thighs.

    ‘Jus’ come in to empty the doc’s waste bin, is all.’ His mouth opened a little more and she saw a gold tooth glinting. He appeared to be greatly enjoying what he saw. ‘Doin’ me rounds. Always do ‘em around this time.’ He made a cursory inspection of the clinical waste bin in the corner and, finding it empty, promptly left with as little ceremony as he had arrived. Just at that moment, Dr Kinnaman returned. Instantly reading the situation he was all profuse apology.

    ‘Oh Miss Turner, I am SO sorry! I can’t believe I left this open!’ He entered and hastily closed the door behind him. ‘Completely unforgiveable. Don’t know what I was thinking!’ He came over to her and looked down at her with genuine concern. ‘Are you ok? Please forgive me.’ Although she could feel tears in her eyes, she was so relieved that he had finally returned and closed the door that she found herself unable to utter anything more than a few syllables. She was certainly not up to complaining at him. Her heart pounded in her chest and she just asked him to get the procedure over with. ‘Of course, of course, Miss Turner,’ he replied. ‘Not too much more to do now. Now are you sure you are ok to carry on?’ She was not aware that she’d had a choice and – much as she’d love to have leapt off the table, dressed and left – she felt a certain obligation to this doctor who was clearly dreadfully embarrassed at his error. She murmured her assent and he re-seated himself between her legs. He was holding the instrument he’d been to borrow from his colleague and now started to explain it to her.

    ‘Ok.. So.. my friend, Dr Martins fortunately had one of these things.’ He held up what looked like a cream coloured cylinder of plastic with markings and numbers along its length.

    ‘What’s.. what’s that,’ asked Claire, finally starting to regain her composure.

    ‘It’s what we call a vaginal plethysmograph (sorry about the unpronounceable name!). Basically it’s inserted into you and it measures the length, width and volume of your vagina.’ Seeing Claire make a slight grimace he continued, ‘don’t worry, I’ve warmed it up so it shouldn’t be too uncomfortable.’

    ‘Ok, doctor.’ She laid her head back and tried to focus intently on the patch of ceiling directly above her head as she felt him gently part her lips.

    ‘Just going to insert it now, Miss Turner. Let me know if you want me to stop.’ As he finished speaking, she could feel the cylinder enter as he slowly eased it into her body. To her surprise, she was instantly reminded of her last lovemaking session with Tom, her boyfriend. She couldn’t tell exactly, but it felt like the cylinder was slightly larger than Tom. After a few moments, she felt that characteristic dull twinge as it made contact with her cervix and she assumed it had been inserted fully.

    ‘Is it all the way in now doctor?’ she asked.

    ‘Yes. That’s it fully inserted. 15.2 centimetres.’ He tapped the figure into the iPad.

    ‘Is that how deep my vagina goes?’

    ‘Yes, that’s right. A little over 15 centimetres.’

    ‘Is that ok? Is it normal?’ she asked. He smiled up at her.

    ‘Oh yes. Quite within the normal range.’ He then made some adjustments to the base of the cylinder and she got the impression it was getting larger inside her. ‘Now then, we need to do the distensibility and volume measurement. You’ll feel it start to get larger. I’m going to adjust it until it just starts to feel uncomfortable – that will mean you are at maximum normal dilation. Aside from childbirth, of course!’ He laughed and continued to turn the small adjuster. Claire felt more and more a sensation of being ‘filled up.’ As she had only ever had sex with Tom, and didn’t generally insert things during masturbation, it was an unfamiliar feeling for her. Not entirely unpleasant, she thought. In fact, as the object grew inside her, she started to feel aroused again and could feel a tell-tale swelling of her clitoris. After a few moments, she was starting to feel quite stretched open as the walls of her vagina started to tighten. Clearly, Dr Kinnaman was a little surprised at how long she was leaving it before asking him to stop. ‘Err.. are you sure it doesn’t feel uncomfortable yet? Are you ok for me to keep increasing?’ he asked, with a tinge of concern in his voice.

    ‘Um.. yes, doctor. It’s ok. You can keep going.’ Claire was surprised at how she was reacting. Never before had she really considered her vagina as a particularly erogenous place. She’d always focussed very much on her clitoris – even during intercourse with Tom. But this sensation was all the more exciting for its sheer unfamiliarity and she began to wonder what objects she might have handy back in her room that she could perhaps experiment with. She started to feel more and more tension from the ever expanding cylinder and the skin around her vaginal entrance was really starting to sting from being so dilated. Yet strangely enough this was exciting her more and more. Something about the fact that a strange man – a doctor even – was doing something painful to her in such an intimate and personal place was intoxicating and arousing. She noticed she was breathing more heavily now and she thought she might actually come close to a climax. Without being able to stop herself, she released a little gasp of pain-pleasure. The realisation that she had actually made a sound shocked her back to reality. Dr Kinnaman looked up suddenly, thinking he had hurt her (which, in a sense, he had).

    ‘Oh, I’m sorry Miss Turner. You should have said to stop. I was beginning to wonder.. the dilation is some way above what we usually reach. With other subjects, I mean.’ He started to wind the cylinder back down in size, but not before reading off the dilation value and entering it into the iPad. As she felt the thing inside her shrinking and the tension in her vaginal walls reducing, she felt a sense of loss, somehow. A disappointment. In her erotic reverie, she had almost wanted him to go on further still, to feel her insides tear, to reach her pinnacle of painful, erotic excitement. ‘Well! That’s quite a high value, you got to there. 9.7 centimetres, no less!’ The fact of his astonishment only served to bring back her embarrassment. Was she some kind of freak? Was her vagina too large? Why did she feel pleasure and arousal at something that should have been only painful? But before she could finish the thought, he had slid the cylinder gently out of her and was now wiping off her intimate moisture with a paper towel before placing it back on the instrument trolley.

    ‘Ok. Final measurement now, then the imaging and we’re done.’ As he spoke, he selected another small object from the tray. Claire couldn’t quite see it well enough to make it out. ‘So this little gizmo is to measure the size of your clitoris,’ he said. She was reminded of what he’d said earlier about the size of hers being evidence of masturbation and she blanched at the thought that he would now be putting an actual number on it.

    ‘So..umm.. what size would be normal, doctor?’ she asked, somewhat gingerly.

    ‘For your clitoris? Oh there’s quite a variation,’ he replied. ‘Typically it would be about three to five millimetres across.’

    ‘Do you mean the actual clitoris itself? Not the whole thing?’ He nodded.

    ‘The glans, yes. It’s called the glans.’

    ‘Isn’t that the end of a man’s penis?’

    ‘Yes, that too,’ he explained. ‘They are analogous structures. The penis and the clitoris both have a glans.’

    ‘Really? I never knew that.’

    ‘Ok, so I need to fit this little thing over your clitoris and then adjust it so it fits snugly. A bit like the device on your nipple, if you remember?’ She did. And she remembered how nice it felt. She was more than a little concerned that this would feel even nicer and that her response would be obvious.

    ‘Ok,’ she replied. He leaned forward and she could feel a slight upward tugging.

    ‘First we have to expose the clitoris by retracting the hood.’ She then felt him put the object over her exposed clitoris. The extreme sensitivity made her flinch slightly.

    ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I realise it’s very tender just there.’ Claire laughed nervously and looked up to that patch of ceiling again, trying to distract herself. ‘Ok, I just need to attach this syringe to pump out a little of the air.’ The sound of the word ‘syringe’ temporarily alarmed her.

    ‘Syringe?’

    ‘Only the syringe part. No needle. Don’t worry. I just need to take a little of the air out to bring your clitoris fully inside the measuring bulb.’

    ‘Oh. Ok, doctor.’ She then experienced a rather delicious sensation. As – she assumed – he was pulling back on the syringe, she could feel her tender bud being drawn into whatever the cup was that he had attached to her. Claire could feel the tiny organ swelling with excitement and she was becoming moist again. This time, she tried hard to control herself. Manage her breathing. But it wasn’t easy. Now he appeared to be tightening something and she experienced a firm, but very pleasant, gripping sensation which gave her those butterflies she associated so closely with sexual desire. Her cheeks flushed. Don’t stop, she thought. The grasping increased a little and then she heard him mutter some numbers,

    ‘5.7.. 11.. 2 over 8..’ And then it was over again. He quickly released the device and slipped it gently off her now rather engorged and sensitised clitoris. ‘Ok.. all done. Hope that wasn’t too uncomfortable?’

    ‘Oh no, doctor,’ replied Claire. ‘Not at all. In fact, it was…’ But she checked herself, not really wanting to admit to him exactly how it had made her feel. ‘It was fine.’

    ‘Good.’ He stood up, replaced the device on his tray and proceeded to reach up to the light and camera rig, moving it down and to the centre, between her legs. ‘Last part. The imaging. Then we’re all done and you can get out of here.’

    ‘Ok, doctor.’ She was looking at him as he positioned the camera just six inches or so from her genitals. She felt more apprehensive than before because of the very intimate nature of what was about to be photographed. She’d rather not have these shots taken, but she felt obliged to continue. It wouldn’t be fair to back out now, so late in the process. He flipped on the two lights and the screen and she saw her own sex displayed hugely. Shamelessly, she thought, on the monitor. It looked so unfamiliar blown up to this size. He adjusted the zoom and now she saw even more detail of the moist, pink skin nestling between her brown fur. Its translucent, fleshy folds and clefts. She tried to imagine the technician who would be poring over these images, measuring, analysing. Would it turn him on? Or would he retain a professional detachment? Maybe it would be a woman? Maybe it would turn her on? Or would she sit there comparing.. more puffy lips, redder flesh than mine, more open… Dr Kinnaman then took a series of shots, slightly adjusting position and zoom. Gently parting her lips, pulling slightly on her cleft to expose her clitoris. Finally, he seemed satisfied and he flipped the screen off and replaced the camera and lights to their parked positions.

    ‘Great. We’re all done. You may get dressed again now, Miss Turner.’ He smiled broadly at her. ‘I really am so grateful to you for agreeing to take part in our study. It’s much appreciated.’

    ‘Anything to help advance medical science,’ she chirped from behind the screen as she got back into her clothes. She was relieved it was all over, but part of her had found the whole thing quite surprisingly enjoyable. It was certainly not the sort of thing she’d have ever imagined being turned on by, but in all honesty she had indeed been aroused by it all. Stepping out from behind the screen, finally dressed, Claire took Dr Kinnaman’s offered hand and shook it.

    ‘Thanks again, Miss Turner. Don’t forget to get that prescription filled now.’

    ‘I won’t,’ she said as she went to the door.


    * * * * * *


    That night, as she lay in bed, Claire went over the experience and found she could recall almost everything. Every sound, smell and sight. The one thing that did elude her though, was Dr Kinnaman’s actual face. All she could conjour up was a vague, undifferentiated middle-aged, attractive man. As she went through all the things he had done and said, she felt a warm glow in her loins. That fluttering in her tummy and a fullness in her breast. Her hand wandered down under the covers, over her belly and into the soft curls. Lost in reverie, she started to stir the most cleft…

    At much the same time, Dr Adam Kinnaman sat down at the table in his dining room, placed his cup of coffee beside him and flipped open his laptop to finish off some work. He opened the manuscript of his latest clinical report. It really should be submitted to the boss tomorrow, he thought. Better crack on with it. Then he remembered the USB drive. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the small sliver of plastic. Amazing how much these things could store nowadays, he thought. So compact. He inserted it into the port in the side of the laptop and in a few moments, a folder appeared showing 20 or so icons. TIFF files. So glad I took a copy of these, he thought, as he reached down to unzip himself.


    THE END
  2. The Bodyguard Active Member Humorist

    Blog Posts:
    6
    You start with a great, if a bit of a cliche, premise: girl goes to see a doctor. Which is not bad, and the reason I kept reading to see how you tell this old joke. But I was let down twice, first by the overly long buildup. And then ending with a ho-hum conclusion instead of a great orgasm.
    I could go back and reread it and point out all the nice lines, but I really want to read something else by you that is much better.