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Dr. Ben strode into the room, smiling.
“And how are you now, Amy??” He asked.
I choked out: “O-okay.”
“All right, young lady, time for the rest of your exam. Lie down on your back, legs together.” He helped me up on the table, and then stood at my head. “Put your arms over your head, Amy,” he said.
As I did so he began to feel the glands under my arms and down the sides of my breasts, palpating to see if there was any swelling. “All right, put your arms at your sides, Amy,” he said, and as I did so, he lowered the gown so that he could see my breasts.
I watched him peering at me (“I wouldn’t even let Sammy Boyle look at me like that!” I thought, randomly); he felt my left breast all around the outside; then the gland on the inside; then the nipple. Next he did the right breast. I was unaccountably getting wet. I hoped he would start his pelvic exam with plenty of lubricant – I was certainly producing enough!
“All right, Amy, I see that Nurse didn’t take your temperature,” Dr. Ben said, stepping over to the counter beside the exam table and removing a thermometer. Then he bent down and picked up a jar of…VASELINE! I thought, “OH. MY. GOD. This Doctor is going to take my temperature in my bottom.” I was mortified.
“Bottoms up, Amy,” the Doctor intoned, helping me turn over on my belly and lifting at my hips to show me what he wanted. I have to tell you, I was too embarrassed to even speak – besides, it was all happening so fast I didn’t have time to protest. I stuck my bottom in the air (and saw Dr. Ben’s satisfied smile). I watched in horror as he twirled the thermometer in the Vaseline, put it against my poor bottom hole, and pushed. It went in. Easily. “AAAaagghh!” I gasped, unable to stop myself.
The thermometer kept going in. It was cold. I could feel it poking into the “stuff” inside me – the fecal matter, which Dr. Ben would certainly see when he removed the thermometer. He held the thermometer in me with one hand, which he rested on my vaginal opening, touching me casually (but not so casually, actually), occasionally twirling the thermometer in me. I laid there choking with embarrassment and lust, exposed to this man who now had laid all my secrets bare (or so I thought), bottom skyward, nearly dripping wet with excitement. He left the thermometer in a long time.
I was embarrassed. Stimulated. Wet. Scared (what could be next?). “All right, Amy, that’s enough time with that thermometer in you – Oh oh! What’s this on the thermometer? He held the thermometer down to my face (remember, I was still in the “bottoms up” position). It was covered with fecal matter.
“We’ll have to do something about this, Amy. I can’t let you go home like this. We would be responsible if we sent you home constipated like this.” I almost started to cry with the humiliation.
“But let’s finish the exam before we treat you for the constipation. Turn over on your back, and put your feet in the stirrups.” I complied. By this time, I was so utterly humiliated and cowed that I could do nothing else. I felt Dr. Ben’s hands on my pubic area, moving up my belly, palpating the organs inside. “All right, Amy, scoot down to the foot of the table. Set your bottom juusst at the end of the exam table. That’s right (I scooted down). Now let’s adjust these stirrups” (farther apart, further in, so that my thighs were held wide, and my knees almost on my chest. I was totally exposed – even more than just a moment ago – at least then, my knees had been relatively close together. Now my legs were spread, my knees were on my chest.).
“Ok, Amy, that’s fine now.” I felt him down there – could see him between my thighs. “Look up, Amy!” There was a mirror above me, and a mirror behind me, angled so that when I looked up, I could see Dr. Ben sitting on that stool of his, between my naked legs, staring at my sex organs. I knew that if I kept looking, I could watch the whole examination. I wanted to stop looking. But I couldn’t. I saw him take something from a drawer, and then put it on a shelf. He removed something else, a tube. Then a pair of gloves. He put the gloves on. Then he squeezed some clear jelly-stuff from the tube on to his fingers. I watched in fascinated horror as his fingers first separated my lower lips, then began slowly to enter my most secret place.
