Burning Sensations


BURNING SENSATIONS
by Matt Burns



Knock. Knock. Click. Turn. Squeak.

The door opened ajar and Dr. Kim poked his head into the bright, fluorescently-lit room.

“Mr. Hillard???”

The doctor was a young, Asian with thick, dark hair and thin-rimmed rectangular glasses. He had a stethoscope dangling from the collar of his white smock, or whatever you call those shirts doctors wear. The ‘smock’ had a pocket lined with fine “Cross” pens, a pad of blank prescription paper, and also one of those thin flashlight thingys used to analyze throats. Overall, his appearance screamed “Overly ambitious, textbook doctor,” and he proudly displayed various certificates on every wall of every room, all of which informed the patients that he had (only recently) graduated from Harvard Medical School.

“Yes,” said Sammy who sat on a wooden stool in the far corner of the room, holding a Newsweek magazine in his hand that he was only pretending to read. Sammy had a short, brown haircut with boyish looks, though his glassy eyes looked stressed and made him look much older than he really was. He wore nothing on his pale, lanky body except for a faded johnny that was poorly tied in the back because nobody really knew how to tie those damn things, anyway. If there was one word to describe Sammy’s aura at the given moment it would be ‘sheepish’...yes, sheepish energy is what he exuded. Almost to the point of looking abashed. Yes, abashed.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Kim,” said the doctor as he slipped into the room, quickly shutting the door behind him and forcing a comforting smile onto his face. His “everything is gonna be OK” face was far from genuine; it was more likely that he had studied the face from some sort of Doctor-Patient Interaction Handbook they gave out in medical school.

Sammy swore he saw a brief millisecond of hesitation before the doctor held out his hand for a shake. He knew why this might be the case. He could just hear the doctor’s thoughts being voiced inside his mind:

‘Based on this man’s symptoms, he is a dirty bastard whom I would rather not shake the hand of.’

‘Well, don’t shake my fucking hand, then!’ Sammy wanted to shout, but he kept these words to himself and politely shook the doctor’s hand anyway.

“How are ya?” asked Dr. Kim, with a slight nervous crack in his voice.

“Um...good.”

“Oh, I mean, given the situation.”

“I’m as good as I could be.”

Sammy knew why Dr. Kim may have been a little nervous. Based on the symptoms at hand, the doctor probably knew that a good molesting of Sammy’s pecker would be in order. This was an undeniable fact. Other doctors from Sammy’s past never seemed to care much about doing something like this, but, again, Kim was young and evidently knew to the field. He’d probably only analyzed a small number of cocks in his time. Yes, it was still a procedure that made him uneasy. Who wouldn’t be?

“Yeah, so what’s going on, Sammy?” asked Kim, though Sammy knew the doctor knew full-well what was going on. Like the nurse practitioner who took Sammy’s urine sample hadn’t already given Kim the run-down only minutes earlier. ‘Yes, Dr. Kim...the man in room B...careful of that one...he’s a dirty bastard who’s been around, if you know what I mean.’ Yes, the nurse had undoubtedly already told Kim the 411. But Kim apparently wanted to hear it in Sammy’s own words.

“I’ve got...um...inflammation...in the groin area.”

“It burns?”

Sammy wanted to avoid the use of such terminology, probably as a way to convince himself that he may not have had what he more than likely had.

“Yes...it burns,” he reluctantly admitted.

“When you pee?”

“Well, not just when I pee. Well, yesterday it burned more when I peed, but today there’s more like a consistent burning...at all times.”

‘Yes, it doesn’t just burn when I pee,’ he realized, so maybe he didn’t have what he thought he had after all. Maybe it was just a bladder infection or a classic UTI. Certainly this could have been the case.

“Could be a bladder infection or something like that...” suggested Sammy, hoping he could possibly persuade Kim into agreeing.

“Yeah...hmmm...any pain up here?” asked Kim, pointing to Sammy’s lower abdominal area. “You know...above the pubic area?”

“No. No.”

“Anything else bothering you?”

“No. I feel fine otherwise.”

And this latter remark was probably the truth. Sure, he may have been a little more fatigued than usual, but this was probably due to the stress of thinking about having what he more than likely had.

“All right, why don’t you hop up onto the table here and I’ll check you out.”

“Oh. OK.”

Sammy, of course, knew that when Dr. Kim said ‘I’ll check you out’ he really meant ‘I’ll molest your cock.’ But he hopped up onto the observation table, anyway. Yes, he HAD to go through with this. The alternative was a bullet in his head, which had seemed appealing last night because he just didn’t want to deal with this shit. But suicide didn’t seem like such a rational move today. Hopefully a good, old-fashioned cock molestation was all he was going to have to endure. Yes, just a brief feel of the cock and then maybe some antibiotics and then ‘I’ll get the hell out of here’, he thought. Certainly he could handle that.

“OK, let’s have a look at ya...” said Kim.

Sammy lay belly-up on the observation table and stared at the fluorescent lighting fixture on the sterile ceiling above. He wasn’t particularly certain, but he had the feeling his unit was at turtle-in-a-shell status. For some reason, whenever he went to the doctor his cock would become so damn small. Fuck, it retreated so far back that it looked like it never even got circumcised.

For a moment, Sammy thought about possibly allowing some sexual thoughts to infiltrate his mind - maybe a boob or a nipple or some shower sex or at least a dry hump - just so more blood could get into his unit and make it look a tad larger. But he ultimately decided against doing so, just in case he got an accidental erection in the process. That would have made the situation even more awkward for sure.

“Any new sex partners lately?”

Boom! There it was! Holy crap! Sammy knew this question was coming, but he still found himself both caught off guard by it and also unprepared to answer it. He was basically hoping that he could use the term ‘bladder infection’ as code for what he more than likely had. “Yes, Doc, I think I may have a bladder infection, nudge-nudge wink-wink. And when I say bladder infection, of course what I really mean is that I have, indeed, been having sexual relations with a new girl and, yes, this new girl is a dirty little whore who only did stuff with me because she does stuff with everybody.” Oh, if only Kim could have read Sammy’s mind...he wouldn’t have had to go into all the awkward details!

“Um...yes. There has been a new girl.”

“Using condoms?”

“Um...yes...well, hmmmm...see, no. Ok, see, this is the thing: there hasn’t been any...um...intercourse yet. But there has been some...uh...oral stuff.”

It was the truth. A simple blowjob was what brought Sammy onto this observation table today.

“Ok,” said Kim. “If you could just do me a favor and pull your shorts down for me.”

‘Ladies and Gentlemen! Let the molestation begin!!!’

Sammy reached down to his waist area and fingered the elastic to his Fruit of the Loom drawers. Of course he had gone through these motions before (God knows how many physicals he’d had), but he still always found it weird to be pulling down his skivvies in front of a man.

‘I don’t want to fucking do this!’ he screamed in his head, but he knew he had to do it anyway. ‘Man up, Sammy. Buy yourself an ice cream later as a reward. OK, will do.’

He let out a silent sigh and pulled the drawers all the way down to his ankles as quickly as he possibly could...like a Band Aid. Without a whole lot of hesitation, Dr. Kim started cupping Sammy’s balls and stretching his scrotum into various contortions. The doctor tried to keep a stoic, “professional” face while he did this, but Sammy could see the doctor’s thoughts running across his eyeballs like one of those digital billboards in Time’s Square: “Holy shit! And I thought I had a fucking small cock!”

“Do you have any rashes anywhere?” asked Kim as he analyzed the back of Sammy’s sack.

“No.”

“Where, exactly, does it burn? Is it at the tip of your penis?”

Penis! Agh! How Sammy hated that word! It sounded like ‘peanuts’ and Sammy was allergic to peanuts, so maybe it was through the associative property that he hated ‘penis’.

“Well, it’s...it kinda moves around...”

Sammy knew Dr. Kim was setting a trap for him. If he said a straightforward ‘yes’ to the ‘tip of the penis’ question, the doctor was going to immediately be thinking about a certain disease that should remain unmentioned right now. Sammy had done some research online beforehand at a website called WebMD. He was no dummy. Who did this doctor think he was fucking talking to? He was gonna have to try a lot harder than that!

“Sometimes it’s in the - what do you call it? - the urethra. Then, sometimes it moves further back, almost in my...uh...my prostrate I think it is.”

Ha! Try to diagnose that shit, you fuck!

“Your prostate?”

“Prostate. Yes.”

Sammy suddenly noticed a subtle change in Kim’s eyes that unsettled him in the most major of ways. It was the look of a red flag...but not literally, of course. In other words, Kim seemed slightly more nervous now, which was odd, because Sammy would have thought that the worst was over. Hell, the balls were on the fucking table already...so what else was there to be concerned about, Kim?! Could this increase in nervousness have been a sign of even worse things to come??? Such a question haunted Sammy’s mind in a terrible way, just as Kim started pressing down (rather forcefully) on Sammy’s shaft.

“Any tenderness in the testicles or scrotum?”

“No.”

“Ok, that’s a good sign.”

Good sign? How so? Was it a good sign in the sense that ‘Well, you’re not going to die tomorrow’? Or in the sense that ‘No, you don’t have what you think you have’?

“OK, I’m just going to go ahead and culture this.”

“OK,” said Sammy, not really knowing what the hell the doctor was talking about.

Dr. Kim opened a drawer of supplies in the corner of the room and ripped open a package of cotton-tipped sticks that were about the same size/width of chopsticks. Sammy didn’t like the looks of these things at all. Instinctively, he knew that there was something horrible about to go down, but his mind was too caught off guard to consciously know WHAT, exactly.

“I apologize in advance for how this is going to feel,” said Kim.

“Um...uh...”

“This is never a very pleasant experience.”

“Uh...”

And before Sammy could even ask what was about to be done to him, the unthinkable happened.

‘Holy fuckin’ shit!’ Sammy wanted to shout, but he miraculously managed to restrain himself. Instead, he just let out a muffled...

“Umph.”

After a few moments of chaos and overall confusion, Sammy finally managed to process what was happening to him. Dr. Kim was actually shoving that fucking chopstick halfway down his penis-hole. It was really happening right now. This was not a hallucination. This shit was really going down. Wow!

Sammy squirmed around the observation table like an earthworm that had just been severed in half. Dr. Kim had that goddamn chopstick just about three-quarters of the way down his shaft right now!

‘Oh, God, this is wrong!’ Sammy thought to himself. Like, in a moral sense, he meant. He felt raped. Violated. ‘This was against God’s will!’ The penis hole was simply not meant to be violated in such a way. It was one orifice of the male body that should never have anything shoved down it. This was definitely contrary to God’s grand design or whatever. God did NOT create the penis hole for this purpose!

‘All this for a fucking blowjob,’ Sammy couldn’t help but remind himself. God forbid Sammy get a little action here and there! That dirty bitch was only the third girl he had ever hooked up with. Hell, he should’ve just fucked the girl! At least that would have made this procedure just a little more worthwhile (if that was even the slightest bit possible). All right, maybe that was going too far. It was probably best he didn’t fuck her. And of course when he said ‘fuck’ he really meant ‘make love’. Sammy really wasn’t that fresh of a person. Sometimes he said things - like ‘fuck’ and ‘bitch’ or whatever - that didn’t really correspond to what he was feeling inside, in his heart and soul and what-not. He was a good man, for Christ’s sake. Really, he was.

But back to observation table. After what seemed like an absolute fucking eternity, Dr. Kim pulled the chopstick out of Sammy’s penis and slid the so-called “culture” into a plastic baggy to be shipped off to the lab.

“All right, we’re good,” said Kim, looking a little bit more relieved than he was before, but not completely relieved.

As for Sammy, the poor bastard was frozen with shock on the observation table. He still couldn’t believe what happened to him. Dr. Kim had just shoved a chopstick down his goddamn penis-hole. This had definitely just happened. It was so wrong. It was so very wrong. Better yet, it was unnatural. ‘Twas unnatural!

“OK, now I’m gonna need to check out your prostate,” said Kim.

For some reason, the phrase ‘check your prostate’ didn’t alarm Sammy at first. Perhaps his mind was still on the fact that he had just had the unthinkable done to his pecker. Or perhaps he just didn’t yet realize what ‘checking out the prostate’ actually entailed.

“So just turn on your side...yep...and pull your knees towards your chest...that’s good.”

It was at about this point when the reality of the situation hit Sammy like a sack of cinder blocks. ‘Oh shit!’ he wanted to scream. ‘This is when they do THAT thing. I’ve seen this in the movies and in the TV shows. The doctor slaps on the rubber gloves and puts on a creepy smirk and then shoves his fist up the poop chute. No wonder why Dr. Kim had been looking so unsettled in the face!’

Sure enough, Kim slid a rubber glove onto his right hand and squirted his index/middle fingers with some lubrication of some sort - maybe it was just Petroleum Jelly or Jergens, but Sammy wasn’t sure. All Sammy could be sure of was that - woosh! - Dr. Kim had just shoved two fingers up his ass without uttering so much as a “Here it comes!”

“Umph.”

Yes, Sammy had seen plenty of scenes in a movie or on TV where a doctor would shove his fist up a patient’s ass. But that was different. The whole procedure was treated in a comical manner. Haha. Look at that doctor shove his fist up the patient’s ass! Haha. Haha. Look at that poor bastard have his ass violated. Haha. Haha. But now it was happening in Sammy’s reality...in Sammy’s ass! And it wasn’t the least bit comical.

‘Man, Dr. Kim is going to fucking town in there,’ Sammy couldn’t help but comment to himself. The doctor was twiddling his fingers around like he was trying to massage a G-spot or something. What perversion. So gross. So wrong. So contrary to God’s will.

Sammy realized he would never be able to walk in public the same way again. Not because he had just got a finger jammed up his ass. Not because of the shame of having his ass-cherry popped, either. But because of the thought that somewhere out there...maybe just around the corner...there was a man (Dr. Kim) who had fingered his asshole. Yes, a man...out there...had his fingers up Sammy’s asshole.

Sammy suspected that the way he felt right now was probably not unlike how a woman felt after getting raped, especially if that woman was previously a virgin. He felt so damn violated and dirty. From this point forward, Sammy would have to go through life knowing there was a man out there - potentially lurking around every corner - who stole his dignity from him. It was something that would be gone forever. He would never get the dignity back. Yes, this MUST have been how rape victims felt.

Sammy, again, couldn’t help but remind himself that this was all happening because of a seemingly innocent blowjob. God forbid he have a blowjob for once in his life! He used to be a virgin if you can believe it. Well, that is, he had been a virgin up until not too long before this little incident occurred. He wanted to save himself. Find true love first, get married...like the guy in the PG movie everybody's rooting for. But that was all bullshit, he realized. All the girls he dated thought a 25-year-old virgin was a fucking weirdo...that he must be a creep or something. So he had to play the game. Build up his resume, so to speak. Hook up with as many girls as possible. Start with the ugly ones and work his way up to the more attractive ones. This was what would make him more appealing to the opposite sex, he learned. That’s just the way it was.

Jesus Christ, Dr. Kim was still fingering down there, Sammy realized. Now he was doing the ‘come hither’ motions with his fingers for reasons that didn’t seem necessary. This was all so unnatural and against what God desired.

But, yes, true love. That was all Sammy had wanted. How the hell did he go from the 25-year-old virgin to the dude getting his ass fingered on an observation table? How could this have happened? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. The hand he was dealt in life was supposed to be better. When he was young and dreamt of his future, he never saw himself in the doctor’s office getting his pee hole violated and his ass fingered. He saw himself living with his soul mate in a nice house...two cars...couple of sweet kids...vacations down on Cape Cod...you know the story.

Surely this was the media’s fault! Everybody was always jumping into bed with one another! Nobody ever wore condoms or worried about STDs or even pregnancy! All Sammy did was do what everyone else was doing. But look where it got him!!!

“Prostate feels ok,” said Dr. Kim as he finally pulled his fingers out of Sammy’s asshole.

“Oh. Good.”

The doctor peeled the latex glove off his hand and disposed of it into the garbage - not the biohazard bin, which Sammy felt would probably be a better place for it.

“Well, we have your samples, so we’ll go ahead and culture those. ‘See if any bacteria turns up. It’ll be a couple of days before we know anything.”

“Ok.”

“I don’t see any reason why you can’t go ahead and get dressed,” said Kim. And, with those words, he opened the door ajar and quickly slipped through the crack, like he couldn’t fucking wait to get the hell out of that room.

“Great. Thanks.”

Sammy was now relieved the worst was over, though still distressed from knowing he probably had what he most likely had. Fuck it, he might as well just say the word: gonorrhea. Gono-fucking-rrhea! All right, you happy? Gonorrhea!!!

He swung his legs to the floor and waddled over to the corner of the room where his clothes were piled. He looked like a prisoner who had just been ass-raped in the shower. Then again, he basically HAD just been ass-raped. What a crazy thought, but it was basically true.

My, how times had changed! It was only a couple years ago when Sammy would have a physical and feel like a pathetic loser when the doctor would ask if he was sexually active and he would reluctantly answer ‘no’. But now that the answer was ‘yes’, he wished it were ‘no’. He felt like a loser then, but now he felt like a dirty little slut.

Oh, how Sammy longed for those innocent days as a virgin! Those were days when he didn’t have a chopstick down his penis and a finger up his ass. Then again, those were also days where he had no woman in his life whatsoever. He was miserable and lonely. He wanted to die. Suicidal thoughts were not uncommon.

“What was worse?” he wondered.

He mulled this question over in his head as he left the doctor’s office, hopped in his rusty Buick and drove past a nearby playground with several children playing. Oh, what Sammy would have given to be one of those children playing on the swings on that warm, July day. Those kiddies didn’t have to worry about virginity and making themselves more desirable and ‘building a resume’ and getting horrible burning sensations...

...yet.


THE END


 


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