A story by Bard Boy [bard_boy(at)protonmail(dot)com]
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction about an underage boy getting sexually touched by his doctor. Clearly this is against both medical ethics and the law in the jurisdiction where the story is implied to be set. This story is not based on any real people.
If it’s illegal for you to be reading this because of factors such as your location or age, it isn’t my fault if old Tayyip, big Vlad, your mother, the Stasi, or any other disapproving party finds out. Your responsibility. Use it wisely.
This story is the property of the author. Do not repost it elsewhere without prior consent.
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It had never occurred to Jonah that the waiting rooms of doctors’ surgeries were the most colourful or inviting places at the best of times. His local surgery had notice boards densely packed with information and pinned pamphlets, illuminated by harsh, dull light from the windows. Somehow the light in medical buildings always seemed greyer and sharper, like it was scared to be too sunny in case it intruded too much on the afflicted. Even as a little kid, he hadn’t been taken in by the corners with wipe-down plastic toys for waiting children. Beads to thread along curly rods mounted into a table. Big, carboard-y picture books. Huge, plastic toy cars. As a six-year-old, he’d ignored it all – or at least only given it a cursory investigation before returning to his mother. Normally they’d only visit the doctor when he was particularly feverish, lethargic, and achy anyway; far too listless and content to snuggle into his mother, awaiting the comforting wrap of her arm around him, to ever have made the most of the toys. Still, he recognised them all, and was mildly internally amused to find the same things here, waiting on similar large, uniform, cushioned chairs in this different clinic.
He was, of course, here because he was a big boy. Or because he was going to be. Mum had received an email from his new school stating their requirement for all boys to have a full medical check-up before starting in September. They’d even recommended the surgery and doctor and offered to make bookings on behalf of parents. It was, they said, a special and necessary precaution to ensure a smooth restart to school life given the circumstances. Still, Jonah was aware, despite not having been able to see his friends in person during the long months of lockdown, that none of his classmates going to Shenley Academy had to do this. No. Jonah had passed the exam for a special school, the selective King William IV School, so he would be leaving his old friends behind. He was special, it seemed, so special arrangements had to be made.
“Excited?” Mum had asked, on the drive to the clinic. It was in a tall, square Edwardian building – a converted townhouse – in another part of the city. “See, things are getting back to normal. And you are still going to be my big, clever boy going to his big, clever school in September.”
Jonah had liked the sound of that, smiling to himself and watching large roadside oaks go by from the passenger window. As much as he loved his parents and his little sister, Jonah was beyond ready for things to go back to normal. Being stuck in the house with his family all day for months on end had become a terrible chore, only being able to speak to friends if they happened to be allowed to play video games at the same time. Sure, it was nice to spend lots of time together. But then it was lots of time. And a lot more after that. Even online schoolwork wasn’t a distraction; Jonah found it never quite stretched him, and Mum was constantly trying to interfere anyway, as if she new best. Jonah knew best how to do Jonah’s work. He was the big, clever boy, after all.
Being big and going to a proper big school with other clever boys seemed a pretty good thing to look forward to for Jonah. Sure, he was nervous about going to a new place, and having to take the bus there, and having to make new friends, and being around much, much bigger kids and lots of new adults whose expectations he would need time to process, but it was exciting to feel like he was growing up; to have a tangible milestone. Maybe it would mean he would get to stay home by himself sometimes, or stay playing out longer with friends, or stay up later (especially on weekends), or have more than one sip of Dad’s lager when they celebrated special occasions. Surely, it must mean all of that. Adults didn’t just start doing whatever they wanted overnight as soon as they turned 18, right? Jonah realised he’d never thought about it before. Whatever the case, being a big boy, more grown-up, was going to be great. Especially if everything would be back to normal.
Then, they arrived at the big, square town house, parked up in front, and walked into reception. And all of the staff were like riot police or stormtroopers in their full protective equipment, and it wasn’t back to normal at all. And then Jonah and Mum were upstairs in a bright, grey waiting room by themselves, just sitting quietly in anticipation of the moment his name was called.
A wooden door painted white, with an old round knob handle, clicked and drew open. A man looking something like a doctor, but with hair overgrown into a sort of dun mushroom, and brown stubble shimmering with stray silver hairs in the harsh window light, leaned through from the other side. He smiled at Jonah’s mother.
“Mrs Wale?” he confirmed.
“Yes,” she replied, making to rise from her chair and nudging Jonah to do the same.
“That means this young man must be Jonah Wale,” he grinned. “That’s quite a name.”
Jonah blushed. Clever people always commented on his name, which meant lots of people would comment on his name all the time when he met them in September, too.
“No need for you to get up, Mrs Wale,” the doctor said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here for now. Can’t have too many people in the examination room unnecessarily. The pandemic, you understand.”
“Oh,” said Mum. She seemed a little thrown, caught stood most of the way up in front of her seat. “Yes, of course, I understand. I didn’t think–”
“Perfectly fine,” smiled the doctor, shaking his head. “Just take a seat and we can call you if anything comes up. We’ll be just the other side of this door.”
“Right, yes,” Mrs Wale responded, sitting down. “Sorry.”
“Quite alright,” replied the doctor. “Besides, Jonah is a big lad, isn’t he? One of those sent to us by King William’s!”
“Yeah,” Jonah smiled shyly, plodding uncertainly to the door and the doctor.
“A clever boy, no doubt. That’s right; in you come. No need to fret at all; your mum will be right here waiting when we’re done.”
Jonah entered the doctor’s room and the door closed behind them. It was unfamiliar in its specifics, but instantly recognisable to Jonah as a doctor’s office. Seats, desk with computer, equipment lying around on spare surfaces, a large potted spider plant, and a big examination table with a sort of paper sheet lying over the top.
“Come and take a seat by the desk, first of all,” the doctor said, motioning to a chair as he breezed past Jonah and sat before his computer, one knee facing the seat he expected Jonah to take, and the other his keyboard and monitor. Jonah plopped himself down obediently. “Comfortable? Good. So, Jonah, when’s your birthday?”
Jonah wasn’t sure why the doctor was bothering to ask him this question. He could see for himself that his own file was there open on the screen, his birthday and age in years and months clear to see.
“Fourteenth of August,” Jonah mumbled.
“Fourteenth of August,” the doctor repeated. “Right. So that means you’re still ten? You must be one of the youngest in your school year, Jonah. That makes your achievements all the more impressive.”
“Thanks,” Jonah blushed again, but it felt good for this man of authority to be praising him. Doctors have to be smart, so he must know what he’s talking about. You have to listen to what doctors say.
“A little nervous still, Jonah?” the man asked kindly.
Jonah nodded. “You’re not my usual doctor,” he blurted.
“I understand,” the Doctor said. “Just take a breath and relax. My name’s Dr Jones, and I just need to give you a quick check over to make sure you’re all healthy ready for when things start up again in September. Nothing we do today will hurt. It might even tickle! Are you ticklish, Jonah?”
Jonah pulled his mouth to one side and shrugged. He was looking at the spider plant rather than the doctor, thinking how strange it was that the plant grew so many little extra versions of itself, hanging off by yellow-brown stalks.
“You’ll soon relax,” smiled Dr Jones, ruffling Jonah’s hair. “What are we calling this hair colour? Golden? That’s never something we keep on your records.”
“Blond, maybe,” Jonah answered, feeling slightly more at ease following the gentle touch on his scalp. Going to the doctor always gave Jonah the same weird feeling of pressure through his body, radiating out from the back of his neck. A sort of calm tension, knowing that his body might be poked and repositioned and touched and examined, but trusting fully that the doctor was doing it to make him better. The sensation was inexplicable; he never felt it anywhere else. Mentally, he just called it the ‘doctor feeling’.
“Lots of it right now, eh?” the doctor said. “Same as me; not been able to have it cut in all this time.”
“Normally it’s shorter,” Jonah agreed, nodding his head.
“Eyes blue,” the doctor went on. “That’s a record we have. I’ll update your height and weight, too, but not right now.” He gently took hold of the sides of Jonah’s face and repositioned Jonah’s head to face him. “Now, I’ll check your head and chest, since that’s easier sitting down.”
Jonah allowed himself to be took through the motions of having his ears and throat checked, which seemed harmless but fairly redundant given he wasn’t actually unwell. The doctor also checked the glands in his neck, giving Jonah his thanks and encouragement that everything was normal. Then Dr Jones reached for his stethoscope, and Jonah instinctively brought his hand to the front hem of this tee-shirt, expecting the doctor to need to run the stethoscope up his front from there.
“Best take the whole thing off, Jonah,” Dr Jones said casually, inserting the instrument into his ears. This was more than Jonah was expecting to have to do, but he complied all the same, stretching his tee-shirt over his head in a manner that made his shaggy blond mop bounce, and holding it to one side in his hand, screwed into a ball. It was only his shirt after all. No need to be embarrassed. It’s not like he was a girl.
Dr Jones smiled and listened to Jonah’s chest, the cold ring sending a shiver down Jonah’s bare spine whenever its metal touched his skin. He told Jonah to take deep breaths. Jonah did as he was told. The doctor instructed Jonah to turn to the side in his chair. He did, and he felt the touch of Dr Jones’ warm hand on his naked shoulder, guiding him into position for the same process to be repeated on his back.
“Good,” said Dr Jones, lifting from Jonah’s back and going through the process of putting his stethoscope back away. Jonah unballed his top and moved as if to put it back on. “No, Jonah; leave that off until I tell you, thanks. We still need to do more checks.”
Unsure what to do with his tee-shirt, Jonah balled it back up and squeezed it between his thighs. Mum would be annoyed that it was screwed up and creased, but he could easily explain that it was obvious he’d have to take his top off for the doctor, so what else could he do? He was distracted from his thoughts as Dr Jones turned back to face him.
“Arms in the air please, Jonah.”
Jonah did as he was told, feeling very silly sat there topless with his arms held above his head. Dr Jones leaned over and placed a hand on Jonah’s chest, his large thumb resting directly over Jonah’s small, pink left nipple, and applying slightly uncomfortable pressure to it. Without saying a word, he pressed his index and middle fingers hard into Jonah’s stretched-out left armpit.
“Hey!” Jonah squealed, jerking and letting out involuntary giggles, his little bicep clamping against the doctor’s fingers in reflexive protection of the ticklish spot.
“Keep your arms up, Jonah,” Dr Jones said firmly. “I have to examine your lymph nodes.”
Jonah felt silly again and tried his best to comply once more, though he still had to contend with involuntary twitches and giggles as his sensitive pit was assaulted. He was aware of the doctor’s fingers sliding against the sliminess of his armpit, which he found slightly disgusting. Dr Jones’ fingers were going to smell like Jonah’s sweat after this.
“No problems there, Jonah. Switch over.”
The process was repeated for Jonah’s right side, again with the added digging of Dr Jones’ thumb into his nipple. Jonah assumed this must be part of the process, as his left nipple had been left feeling sore and sensitive, and sticking out a bit. Maybe the doctor was checking that it wasn’t broken in some way and reacted properly to being pushed in; there’s no other reason a doctor would want to touch or hurt a boy’s nipple, after all.
“All fine, Jonah,” smiled Dr Jones. “You can put your arms down now. Get yourself ready for your height and weight.”
Jonah knew that this part meant taking off his shoes and socks, so that’s what he did. He stuffed each sock into its respective empty shoe and pushed them under his chair. He sat looking up expectantly at Dr Jones, awaiting instruction.
“No, Jonah,” said Dr Jones, shaking his head. “You’re wearing jeans, silly. They’re heavy and will affect the weight reading. You’ll have to take them off too.”
Jonah blushed and thought about this instruction for a second. His jeans didn’t seem heavy to him, but then they were definitely heavier than jogging bottoms, or school trousers, or shorts. He didn’t want the measurement to be wrong and cause problems with starting his new school. He’d just have to take them off. After all, it was no different from changing for PE in front of his teacher and classmates at primary school.
Jonah stood and turned his back to Dr Jones, aware that he was being watched the whole time. His fingers popped open the button of his jeans and undid the fly. He bent to remove the jeans, thinking that keeping his back to the doctor was probably better than showing his front to him as he undressed. That Jonah was bending over right in front of where Dr Jones was sat barely occurred to him at all. Pointing his bum at the doctor was far better than letting him see the shape of his willy and balls jiggling around in his pants as Jonah fought his way out of his jeans.
“On the scale when you’re ready, Jonah,” said Dr Jones. “Just leave your clothes on the chair for now.”
Jonah trotted over to the combined scale and height chart self-consciously, fully aware that he was now wearing only his green boxer-briefs with purple elastic and trim. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands once he was stood on the weighing platform, so sort of slouched, letting his arms dangle half-defensively in front of himself.
“Up straight, Jonah,” said the doctor. “Hands by your sides, back straight, nice and tall.”
Jonah tried not to think about how this pose meant he was pointing his bits straight out at the doctor, but the worry was soon moot as Dr Jones strode over to pull a plastic height gauge lightly onto the top of his head.
“141cm, 34kg,” read the doctor. “Almost exactly average for a boy about to turn eleven. You’re totally normal, Jonah. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” said Jonah awkwardly, knowing that the doctor was joking with him in his congratulations, but feeling the polite thing to do was respond anyway.
“Right, Jonah; last thing,” said Dr Jones. “Pop yourself up on the table and we’ll make sure you don’t have any rogue lumps and bumps to worry about.”
Jonah hopped down from the scales to the floor and dapped lightly across to the examination table, the sound of his bare feet audible as they tapped against the tiles. He began to scramble his way onto the high bed, hugging and grappling with it and pulling the paper covering almost clean off. Jonah grunted in surprise as he felt Dr Jones hoist him by his sides so as he could crawl comfortably onto the surface. He appreciated it, but the way Dr Jones lifted him effortlessly, without asking, made him feel babyish. Jonah sat uncertainly on the table, knees bent slightly upwards, hands resting by his hips, waiting to be told what he should do.
Dr Jones simply watched and waited for a second. He was rubbing some gel on his hands for some reason. Jonah shivered. In the cold light of the surgery, wearing just his green pants with purple trim, he realised how pale his skin was from not having been much out of the house in months. Looking down past the bones of his ribcage, outlined in alabaster skin, he watched his little tummy rise and fall with his breaths, creases across its width where he was slouched, patterns of blue and purple blood vessels visible across the surface of his flesh. He wondered if he looked like a little kid to Dr Jones, and whether that was why he’d felt the need to lift him without warning and had stopped explaining what he was doing. His doctor feeling had begun to fade and was increasingly replaced by a wave of apprehension that he’d done something wrong; that he was embarrassing himself.
Dr Jones smiled.
“No need to look so frightened, Jonah. It’s just a little check-up!”
Jonah tried to return the smile, but it felt forced.
“I’m putting a little bit of massage lubricant on my hands, as I don’t want to irritate your skin when I have to rub against it,” Dr Jones explained. “You make yourself comfortable on your back ready for me to begin.”
Jonah did as he was told, feeling a little more reassured. As soon as he was horizontal, Dr Jones got a hold of his foot and began moving it around, forcing Jonah to bend his knee, and pushing into the muscle at the base of his foot with a large, adult thumb, as if to test its strength.
“No pain, Jonah?”
Jonah shook his head.
“That’s fine then. Other leg now.”
Once Dr Jones was done moving Jonah’s other leg around and gripping and poking his foot too hard, he moved up to Jonah’s torso, leaning over so they were speaking face to face as he worked.
“This may feel a bit strange, Jonah,” he said, pushing his fingers over Jonah’s bare belly and drawing a stifled grunt from the boy, “but I’m just checking everything is where it should be up here, too.”
Jonah felt like he was a lump of dough, like when they’d made bread at school. Dr Jones seemed to be pushing and poking all over his tummy. Occasionally he’d grunt and fidget, only to be shushed by Dr Jones. It can’t have gone on more than a couple of minutes, but to Jonah it seemed like a long, uncomfortable, embarrassing time.
“Nearly done,” said Dr Jones.
Jonah froze. The doctor’s fingers had slipped beneath the waistband of his underpants and were pushing at his front dangerously close to his privates.
“I need to make sure you don’t have anything poking out through your front where it shouldn’t,” Dr Jones said calmly, sensing Jonah’s discomfort. “That’s called a hernia, and this is one of the parts of your body on which we might find one.”
Dr Jones was evidently satisfied that he’d found nothing untoward. He pulled his fingers clear, leaving the front of Jonah’s boxers slightly withdrawn south of where they had originally been. Jonah took a deep breath of relief.
“On your front now, Jonah,” Dr Jones instructed.
Jonah complied quickly and happily, relieved to no longer have his boy parts pointed in the direction of the doctor. He soon felt his wrists being gripped loosely to move his arms into place as Dr Jones got to work poking and prodding his back. He had his wrists placed crossed behind him, like a prisoner waiting to be cuffed. All Jonah could hear was his own breathing, ruffling the dull-scented paper beneath his nose, and the doctor’s heavy breaths above him.
“All fine,” said Dr Jones. He was holding gently but firmly onto Jonah’s wrists. “Usually, we’d be done now. However, I noticed something on your records earlier, Jonah. Did you have to see your usual doctor a few months ago?”
Jonah’s heart sank. He felt it begin to thump quickly against the padding of the table.
“Well, Jonah?” said Dr Jones.
Jonah felt the tips of his ears getting warmer under tendrils of his overgrown hair.
“It said on your records that you had to have some antibiotics for an infection in your bottom. Is that right, Jonah?”
Jonah squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, doctor,” he whispered with a wobble in his voice.
“How did that happen?”
Jonah gulped. “A boy pushed me in the classroom at school, and… well, when I fell… I sort of – erm – caught… right on the corner of the desk.”
“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that, Jonah,” said Dr Jones. “So you were pushed and fell and your anus took an impact against the desk. I suppose that bruised and damaged it, and that’s what got infected.”
“Hm,” squeaked Jonah.
“That’s very unfortunate, Jonah,” said Dr Jones. He was still holding onto Jonah’s wrists, and Jonah could feel the warmth of the man’s fingers, the slipperiness of the lubricant, and the sweat on his forearms where they were forced together. He didn’t even consider fidgeting or trying to free himself. “I hope that boy was in big trouble. This is why we always have to be sensible in our workplaces.”
“Hm,” agreed Jonah, nodding into the paper cover of the bed.
“That means I’ll have to take a look at your bottom now, just to be sure everything is fine. Could you get into position for me, Jonah?”
Jonah felt like someone had emptied an ice bucket over his near-naked body. This was so embarrassing! Why did George Gilbert have to shove him that day? And why did he have to trip backwards over his own feet and practically sit straight onto the corner of his desk? It was humiliating then, for all his friends and classmates to see his bum get hurt in class, and to see him crying his eyes out over it. It was humiliating after, to have to be taken by Mum to see Dr Mirza a couple of days later when he couldn’t stop fidgeting and wanting to scratch his backside, and have her examine it and put him on antibiotics and cream. Now it would be humiliating again, having this strange doctor appraising and prodding his most private rear place once more, without it even being hurt this time!
Jonah realised he should be arranging himself for examination and forced himself to get on with it. It would be okay. At least Dr Jones was a man doctor, unlike his normal doctor, Dr Mirza. And doctors see human bodies all the time. That’s their job. It really wasn’t so bad to have to show his bum hole to Dr Jones, right? It was the grown-up thing to do it without any fuss. This was his special check-up for his special big school, after all.
Jonah got into the position Dr Mirza had arranged him in as best as he could remember. He lay on his side, underpants withdrawn below his buttocks at the back. He was using one arm to lift his upper leg slightly – in this case his left – so as to separate his bum cheeks a little. Jonah knew it was working, as he felt a chilly tickle of air on his partially exposed hole. His other hand cupped his genitals, still mostly hidden by the front of his underpants, lest they become visible between his thighs. Jonah focused on the chair he’d been sat in only a few minutes before. It was the only way he could stop himself closing his eyes like a scared little kid.
Dr Jones placed a large warm hand on Jonah’s left buttock and thigh. “No, Jonah,” he said. “How am I supposed to check you over like this?”
Without warning, Dr Jones had a handful of Jonah’s underpants and had yanked them down below his knees. Jonah froze once more, almost having an out-of-body experience thinking about how he must look to Dr Jones from above, lying naked on his right-hand side on the table cupping his willy and balls.
“Kick those off,” Dr Jones instructed. Jonah silently fidgeted his legs until he could kick his green boxer briefs with the purple trim from his ankles. He remained focused on the chair. “Good. Now keep that right leg bent where it is; I’ll move the other myself. Back straight, arms out in front.”
Jonah felt a prickly haze of humiliation and despair as his ingrained obedience forced him to remove his protective hands from his most private and delicate places. He did his best to straighten his back as he lay on his right side. Jonah breathed and reminded himself to keep his eyes open and do as he was told; to be a grown-up. This was normal, after all. Doctors are used to seeing human bodies all the time; it’s their job. Sometimes they have to do embarrassing examinations, like when boys get pushed over and hurt their bums. It’s all totally normal.
Jonah shivered and let out an involuntary whine as he felt cold gel being applied to his anus. Dr Jones had a hold of his left ankle and had positioned it up by Jonah’s right knee. Jonah knew that in this position the doctor could definitely see his balls, if not his willy too. Not that there was much to see right now; it felt like it was ingrowing from humiliation.
“It’s okay, Jonah,” Dr Jones sang kindly. “I just need to take a quick look and make sure you’ve healed up properly. You look absolutely fine from the outside.”
From the outside? Outside? Did that mean…
Jonah closed his eyes. “Yowwwowowow!” he moaned, feeling the doctor’s thick index finger unceremoniously penetrate his anal ring.
“Shhh, Jonah,” soothed Dr Jones. “You’re doing really well. Just a quick check to see everything is all healed up inside.”
“It hurts!” Jonah whined.
“It won’t be long, Jonah; just to check you’re all okay now. No itching usually, or blood when you go to the toilet?”
“No… oww!” whimpered Jonah, his entire body tensing and his legs trying to come together to protect him from the invasion as Dr Jones’ digit pushed further into his rear. The finger reached an apparently satisfactory depth and Dr Jones stopped pushing in further. Instead he began to twist and wriggle around in there.
“Feels totally normal,” said Dr Jones, reassuringly. He lifted Jonah’s left ankle higher in the air, exposing the boy further. Jonah had forgotten all modesty over letting Dr Jones see his boy bits. He was too busy trying to imagine how there could possibly be a normal feeling for the inside of someone’s bum hole, and hoping that, now it was clear his was normal, the doctor would hurry up and remove his finger from up there.
“Ooh!” squeaked Jonah, as the tip of Dr Jones’ finger flicked back and forth inside him, touching something very sensitive that made his balls dance and his willy twitch.
“Do you know what puberty is, Jonah?” asked Dr Jones.
“When… when you grow up and get bigger, like an adult,” Jonah answered, between deep breaths and grunts of discomfort, wondering why the doctor had chosen this moment for a biology quiz. “It happens – ow! – when you’re a teenager.”
“Good, Jonah. So what grows and gets bigger?”
“Uh… everywhere,” answered Jonah, pausing to wince and hiss again as Dr Jones continued to poke around just inside his bottom. “Your body grows faster in puberty, so you become an adult.”
“Yes, Jonah,” replied Dr Jones, allowing himself a deliberate deep jab into Jonah’s insides, and a double flick across the nub of the almost-eleven-year-old’s prostate gland. “But which parts in particular do we notice changing and growing much bigger.”
“Argh!” yelped Jonah, sucking in air through his teeth and gulping. “Your… um… sex parts. They grow bigger.”
“Very good, Jonah. I bet you learned this quite recently in school, didn’t you?”
“No – ooh! – my parents explained it to me because school has been closed.”
“They taught you well,” smiled Dr Jones. “What do we call the sex organs on a boy, Jonah? What are your sex organs?”
Dr Jones had lifted Jonah’s left ankle up further and pushed it higher into his body, almost level with his hip, splaying and exposing him further. Jonah tried to relax, and keep his prickly eyes open as much as possible. He had to be a grown-up. It was just an embarrassing bum exam, was all. And the doctor was making sure he knew how his body was going to change. It was all part of being a big boy.
“W-willy,” Jonah was able to blurt out, feeling constant pressure from Dr Jones’ finger on the super-sensitive part of his insides.
“That’s right, Jonah: your penis and testes are your sex organs.” He splayed Jonah yet wider. “Does yours often get stiff recently, like it is now?”
Jonah shivered and shuddered in abject humiliation. His eyes prickled. He was butt naked on the doctor’s table, his ankle being held high up in the air to display his privates completely, the doctor’s finger up his bum, and he realised he had the most stiff, throbbing, enormous hard-on he’d ever known.
“Sorry, doctor!” said Jonah, and made to cover himself immediately.
“Arms out straight, Jonah!”
Jonah’s face felt like it was on fire. He complied and raised his arms back out in front of his body. He focused again on the chair so as not to cry. He’d spied his stiffy as he tried to cover it. The milky-white skin was stretched so tight over his hard flesh that veins were popping out. The flappy skin at the end had withdrawn enough that he could see his own pee hole yawning open. He knew exactly how ridiculous, dirty, and naughty he must look to the doctor. And it was frightening. Very frightening. This wasn’t normal at all.
“Does your penis often get stiff like this, Jonah?”
“No, doctor,” Jonah whimpered.
“Not at all?”
“Sometimes it does get hard and big,” Jonah replied, his voice cracking. “Please can we finish now?”
“Well, Jonah, you’re going to be a big boy going to big school from September. Your puberty may already be beginning. It seems a waste not to do some checks now while we can.”
“Ngh!” Jonah grunted, feeling Dr Jones’ finger pop free of his backside, leaving it twitching, throbbing, and feeling filthy with goo. The doctor reached for a measuring tape, still forcing Jonah’s left ankle up and back with one hand.
“On your back, Jonah,” Dr Jones said.
Jonah reluctantly followed the instruction. He couldn’t help himself. He felt the doctor lower and release his left leg.
“Keep your legs nicely apart, like that.”
Jonah couldn’t even close his eyes and pretend nothing was happening while in this position; Dr Jones would see straight away if he did, and that would only humiliate Jonah further. He felt adult hands pushing his relaxed knees slightly further apart. Then there was the yank of fingers on his stiff willy, holding it out as straight as possible, then the cool, smooth tape measure against it. Jonah wanted the table to collapse and the floor to swallow him up beneath it. The touch of the doctor’s grip around the head of his willy should have felt wrong – it did feel wrong – but it also made his member twitch and dance involuntarily in the adult grip. Tingles he’d never felt before made him gasp.
“Just stay calm and breathe, Jonah,” Dr Jones said. “Ah! 81mm. Wale by name, whale by nature!”
Dr Jones was smiling at Jonah, and he winked. Despite everything, Jonah felt himself wanting to giggle. The feeling soon passed.
“Ahhhahah!” hissed Jonah, as he felt the unfamiliar sensation of the skin on his willy getting fully peeled, pulling everything tight. He was still stiffer and more tense than he ever thought possible. Just to fully compound and remind Jonah of his abject embarrassment, he detected the musky smell of his own penis wafting toward him as the doctor held the skin back as far as it would go.
“This all seems very healthy,” said Dr Jones.
“Please, doctor,” whined Jonah. “Are we finished now? Please?”
“You’ll miss out on the best part if we finish now,” chided Dr Jones. “This is the part where you learn what growing boys do with their erections – you know, when it’s stiff like now. It’s a private thing that you never have to talk to anyone else about, but everyone does it.”
“Doctor…?” said Jonah, feeling the man’s thumb and forefinger beginning to ride the skin up and down his painfully stiff willy.
“Just relax, Jonah,” said Dr Jones. “This is how big boys must play with themselves when they’re stiff like this, to make it go away. You’re learning, Jonah.”
Jonah shuddered, conflicted by the intensity of the new feelings radiating out from his willy and balls against how utterly wrong this all felt. How had he ended up like this, spread-eagled naked on the examination table while Dr Jones fondled his stiff willy? A real big lad would never have ended up in this predicament. If only Mum had been allowed in! Damn coronavirus!
“Doctor, stop!” Jonah squealed, trying to push Dr Jones’ thumb and finger away from his boystick with both hands. He wasn’t strong enough. “Please! Please, doctor!”
“Does it not feel good, Jonah?” said Dr Jones, in a sad, somewhat offended tone, still stroking the skin on Jonah’s penis up and down in long strokes. Rough, but not too rough. “Your winky seems to like what I’m doing a lot.”
As if to make the point, Jonah’s willy involuntarily throbbed, and another set of tingles radiated out from his balls. Jonah withdrew his hand. The point stung. It did feel good, and the fact that Dr Jones had gone from calling it a penis for Jonah to calling it a winky (and, honestly, who really says ‘winky’?) underlined that Jonah was acting like a little baby rather than a grown-up. It felt good, his penis being stretched tight then relieved again, before being stretched tight once more, skin dancing and tickling over the its sensitive, slippery, smelly, red-purple end part, and the pressure of the doctor’s grip on the body and the little ridge running around the top. If this was being a grown-up, Jonah still wasn’t sure of it. But it felt good. It did feel good.
“Good lad, Jonah,” Dr Jones encouraged. “Let the feelings come.”
Jonah’s hands were back beside his hips. He shifted his legs a little further open and relaxed into letting the doctor complete the procedure. Dr Jones responded by grinning at Jonah and speeding up his action. It felt good. It did feel good. The pressure building up in Jonah’s groin felt immense, in fact. He began to thrust his hips in the air. He whimpered and grunted. Jonah had given up on keeping his eyes open; given up on caring about how he appeared to Dr Jones, the man who was now stroking his private penis part up and down faster and faster. Eventually the feelings overwhelmed Jonah. The good feelings. Wave after wave of tingles radiated out from his balls, and then the tip of his willy, until eventually he felt they were breaking over a cliff and he couldn’t help but follow them, gripping the paper cover of the examination table with white knuckles, scrunching and crumpling it. Jonah’s hips were thrusting up off the table, his buttocks clenching up in the air around his slippery, finger-examined bum crack. Eventually, the moment passed, and Jonah was left flopped down spread-eagled and naked on Dr Jones’ exam table, panting, now every bit as aware and self-conscious as he had been in the moment the man had taken his underpants down in the first place.
Dr Jones smiled at Jonah, rubbing his hand roughly over Jonah’s privates and jiggling them around. Jonah suddenly felt humiliated at the touch. He pushed the doctor’s hand away with both of his. His sensitive, overstimulated willy lay backwards against the place where Dr Jones had checked for hernias, revealing its vulnerable underside, burrowing backwards into the skin now in embarrassed withdrawal, probably less than half of 81mm. Dr Jones chuckled and ruffled Jonah’s overgrown blond hair. A thought flitted across Jonah’s mind: he couldn’t wait until the barbers re-opened again. He always felt so vulnerable there with his hair at the mercy of the person cutting, his dad sat in another chair, unable to help him. He never got the doctor feeling at the barbers.
“I’ll bring your clothes over for you,” said Dr Jones. He noticed how Jonah – almost without realising what he was doing – had reached down to touch the goopy surface of his bum crack. “I’ll change the sheet when you’re done anyway. You can use it to clean yourself up if you want.”
Not looking at Dr Jones – and realising with every fibre of his being just how pathetic, dirty, and naughty it must make him look – Jonah squatted up on the examination table and began using the paper sheet to wipe his bottom.
Back outside the examination room, Jonah, his clothes now screwed-up and creased, went galloping over to Mum to snuggle into her, awaiting the comforting wrap of her arm around him. It came, double, and Jonah immediately found himself feeling much like her special, clever boy again.
“What’s up?” Mum chuckled. “You’ve barely been gone fifteen minutes! You can’t have missed me that much.”
“I had to do an extra check-up, Mrs Wale, because of the infection Jonah had before,” smiled Dr Jones sympathetically. “I think he’s probably just a little embarrassed. Otherwise, he’s absolutely fine. Jonah couldn’t be more healthy or on track for his age.”
“That’s a relief,” Mrs Wale smiled in return. “Have you thanked the doctor, Jonah?”
“Thanks,” Jonah grunted into Mum’s armpit.
“Oh, Jonah!”
“Don’t worry, Mrs Wale, I totally understand his embarrassment about it all,” Dr Jones said. “Jonah was a perfectly polite and obedient patient. He’s a very mature and grown-up boy, especially for one of the youngest in his school year. You should be very proud.”
“Oh, we are!” Jonah’s mother beamed. “You know that, don’t you, Jonah?”
“Yeah,” Jonah sighed, finally stepping back from Mum’s bosom.
“Right, say goodbye to the doctor. We can go home now and make sure your sister has done her schoolwork for your father.”
On the car ride home, Jonah sat quietly. He watched large roadside oaks pass by; the path home more familiar than it had been on the journey there.
“You’re quiet,” Mum said. “Still embarrassed about having the doctor see your bum?”
“Mum!” groaned Jonah.
“Okay, I shouldn’t tease,” Mum said. “Everything okay, baby boy?”
“Yeah,” Jonah sighed. They had stopped at a crossroads controlled by traffic lights, and Jonah watched a filthy man go begging from car to car.
“Good,” said Mum, though she was already distracted by watching the tramp, and hoping he wouldn’t come knocking on her window too.
They were moving again. Jonah watched the crossroads, surrounded by old pubs and restaurants, pass by before the roadside trees were back again. Silver birches. He was uncomfortable. He wanted to get home to his room and lie in his bed. His bum was still sore and twitchy. But worst of all, his willy was stiff as one of those roadside trunks and trapped uncomfortably against the folds of the crotch of his jeans. If there was one thing Jonah had learnt for sure today, it was that he had a lot of practise to do to catch up with Dr Jones. A lot of practise indeed.
Well, it was biology work. Big boy work. And until things got back to normal, there’d be no time like the present for working from bed.
Other Bard Boy stories available on Nifty include:
Luc: The story of a French boy's first time at the hands of his English neighbour.
Welcome to the North: A soap opera about a boys' under-13s football team in a modern-day Norse Greenland.
Solstice: A story of man and boy coming of age in a snowy post-apocalyptic winter.
Justice: A sequel of sorts to Solstice. Set over a hot and sticky midsummer week, the boys must solve a tricky criminal case in their present, while grappling with what it means for their past.
Praise for Solstice and Justice from a retired Nifty boy story author:
You have now written two astoundingly illuminating novels on the subject, most prominently in this case, "Justice," which is such a thoughtful dissertation on the reasons for pedophilia, and how it affects both the adults and children who are/were involved in it, I can't imagine anything being more illuminating on the subject, ever. The levels of self-doubt and painful self-reflection and pain you take your characters through -- man and boy, past and present, act and consequence -- are amazing. I got fucked as a kid. And your words made me even have to step back and redefine what that meant to *me.*