A Comedy of AR's

Chapter 91
The Dreaded Finger

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“Now wouldn’t it have been easier if you had given me your urine sample yourself?”

“Yes, Kitti.”

“Okay, now hop off the table and come stand in front of me at my rolling chair.”

(I figured nothing good can come from this position.)

“Have you ever had a hernia, Derrek?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, I’m going to check for any lump or swelling by your pubic bone.  When I push in, I want you to turn your head and cough.”

“Okay,” I said tepidly.

Kitti used her right hand to pull my penis to the side while she stuck her left index finger upward into my right groin area above my scrotum.  The poke started to hurt me with so much pressure and I stood on my tiptoes.

“Not so hard, Kitti … please!”

She yelled, “Turn your head and cough, you little prick!”

“Cough … Cough.”

“Harder!”

“COUGH!   COUGH!”

“Now the other side.”

“Ohhhhhhhh … ewwwwww.”  (She pressed upward so hard.)

“Do it!”

“COUGH!   COUGH!”

“Okay, you don’t have a hernia.  What about testicular problems?”

“Huh?”

“Derrek, do you ever perform a self-examination of your testicles … to check for lumps and any other abnormalities?”

“Umm … I guess I haven’t been doing that.”

“Don’t you care about your testicles, Derrek?”

“I do, but I just haven’t done that sort of thing.”

“Because you’re too busy jacking off.  Step closer to me, please.”

I took another step toward Kitti.

“CLOSER!”

I was practically rubbing against her breasts, and standing between her legs … and my erection was coming back.

Kitti looked at me and said, “You know, you really are a disgusting little boy.”

I whimpered, “I can’t help it.”

“But it does make examining your balls a little easier.  I’ll handle them gently.”

“OOooooohhhhhhhhhh … Kitti, you’re squeezing too hard!

“What did I say, Derrek?”

“Don’t be a baby … but please … ooooohhhhhh … don’t squeeze me so hard.”  I was crying again.

“Hmmph … The other boys don’t squeal like a baby pig.  Derrek, why is your right testicle bigger than your left?”

“I don’t know.”

“And why does your left testicle hang lower than your right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you care about your testicles?”

“I do, but I don’t know much about them.”

“Uh oh.”

“What?”

Kitti explained, “I think I found a lump on your right testicle.”

“Huh?!”

“Uh oh … I found a similar lump on your left testicle.”

I was getting scared.  “Are you sure, Kitti?”

“Oh yes … This is really bad, Derrek … I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but you need surgery right away.  Both of your testicles will have to be amputated to keep the cancer from spreading to other parts of your body.”

“WHAT??!!!” I yelled.  “Surely you can’t be serious.”

“I am serious … and stop calling me Shirley,  you little prick.”

“What’s the matter, Kitti?” asked Nurse TiteRench.

“This boy has horrible lumps on both of his testicles.  Come and see.”

The nurse sat down on the rolling chair and grabbed my balls.  (eewwwww … Her hands were colder than Frumpy’s.)

“These aren’t lumps Kitti,” the nurse said, to my great relief.  “They’re his epididimyses.”

“His epididi-what?” asked Kitti.

The nurse continued, “Coiled tubes attached to his testicles which store and transport sperm to the vas deferens.  They’re perfectly normal.”

“Oh thank god,” Kitti feigned empathy.  “The thought of cutting off a boy’s balls was making me queasy.  But now we can move on to the main event, Derrek … your little boy prostate.”

I pleaded for some relief.  “Um, Nurse TiteRench … Can we skip this one, please?   Since I’m only twelve, I won’t have an enlarged prostate.”

“Maybe so, Derrek, but just like your testicles, we have to check for lumps and abnormalities.”

“Well, can maybe you do it this time instead of Kitti?”

“You have nothing to worry about.  Kitti is well qualified to examine prostates.”

I wasn’t happy.  “Has she examined any other boys?”

“She’s examined male dummies many times.”

“See, Derrek?” Kitti smirked.  “I’m perfect for you.”

“But I’m scared.”

--- Whack! ---   (another swat to my buttocks)

“Owwww!  Stop it!”

“Don’t cop me an attitude, kid,” Kitti scolded me.  “If you want to play sports, then hop back on the exam table with your knees and elbows down.  Make sure your butt is sticking up in the air.”

I was sure that Kitti saved the worst for last, but I had no choice.  Timidly, I climbed back onto the padded table on top of a thin sheet of paper.  When I put my elbows down, I felt very vulnerable.

Kitti walked in front of me so that I could see her snap on a new pair of latex gloves.  Then she dipped her index finger in a cold lubricant like Vaseline.  With her left hand, she pried open my butt hole … and in went the dreaded finger.

I squirmed on the table.  “Oh … Oh… it’s so cold.”

Kitti yelled, “Stop wiggling around, unless you want another smack.”

I rested my head on the table between my elbows.  Eventually, she went in deep enough to locate my young prostate.  Then she pressed on it … several times … hard.

I groaned.  “uuhhhhhhhhh … uuhhhhhhhhh …UUHHHHHHH!  Oh, please stop!”

“Nurse TiteRench,” I called out.

“What?”

I drew up the courage to say, “I feel like medical experiments are being performed on me by Doctor Josef Mengele.”

“Oh?” she replied.  “Is he your primary care physician?   Would you like to file a complaint against him?”

“Something’s wrong,” Kitti told the nurse. “His rectum is full of poop.  I can’t do a proper prostate exam.”

“Then give him an enema.”

“Noooo!   Please noooo!” I whimpered.

Kitti instructed me, “Turn over onto your back and bring your knees up to your chest.  You have nothing to be afraid of.”

I was crying freely now, but followed my instructions.

Kitti opened a new enema kit and began explaining.  “This should be a piece of cake for you, Derrek.  It’s a catheter that works very similar to the one we inserted into your penis.  It’s got an air syringe and a little inflatable balloon that blows up once I insert the tube into your rectum.  I’ll pour the solution into the hanging bag now.”

“What’s in the solution?” I asked quietly.

“It’s a saline liquid like salt water.  And then we just add a little glycerine.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, just thankful it wasn’t ordinary water.

“Hold still now.”

“Eewwww.”  I could feel the tube invading my rectum.  I felt so violated … just as I have for this entire physical.

“Okay, the balloon is inflated to prevent a back flow, and I’ll release the solution now.  You just hold still while it fills up your bowels.”

“Eewww, it’s cold … Why is everything so cold?  Can I have a tissue, please?”

I wiped my eyes and retained the same position on my back for about ten minutes.

“Okay, Derrek,” said Kitti.  “The bag is fully drained, so I’ll deflate the balloon now and remove your catheter.  You just tell me when you feel like going to the toilet.”

I asked, “Do you want me to put any of it in a cup with a screw lid?”

“Are you trying to be a smartass, Derrek?”

“No.”

Soon enough, I hopped off the table and ran to the toilet, with Kitti warning, “You better be clean when you walk back here, Derrek.”

I returned in a few minutes and asked, “May I please get dressed now?”

Kitti scoffed, “Nice try smartass … on the table now … knees and elbows.”