Elite Leader
LEVEL 5
165 XP
Leslie gets more than she bargained for.
Mink's SIGNATURE
OP
Elite Leader
LEVEL 5
165 XP
Early in my Senior year of college at our state university, I applied for a position as a test subject in a medical research project conducted at our medical school. The research was to be conducted at our university's teaching hospital on campus.
After applying, interviewing, a brief physical and some blood work, I was surprised and delight to be selected as a test subject despite the alarming disclosures made during the selection process. At the time, I was a perennially broke student and the position paid a whopping $1,300 per day for four days of participation over a four week period. Additionally, the project was considered relatively safe as medical studies go, particularly compared to something like drug trials.
I rationalized that, "it couldn't really be all that bad." After all, it was a peer reviewed protocol to be carried out at a top university's medical school in the course of medical research. However, when I came right down to it, the fact was that I desperately needed the $5,200 for next semester's tuition, books and supplies.
After hastily signing a long contract full of foreboding language and a lengthy Informed Consent form that I had just barely skimmed, I was scheduled to report for my first day in the study. I was to arrive on the following Friday at five AM. I was given a sheet of printed instructions, told to report to room B13 in the basement of the teaching hospital, on campus, at the appointed time and sent home.
The following Friday, after following all printed instructions to the letter, I arrived at room B13 at about 4:55 AM, filled with apprehension and feeling a little sleep deprived. I entered B13 and was immediately presented with a woman sitting behind a desk in a waiting room.
"Hi I'm Leslie . . ." , I started out, only to be interrupted.
"I know who you are....your Leslie Martin, the only one scheduled to arrive at this time," said the prickly woman. She was about forty, not entirely unattractive and wore a nurse's uniform. Her demeanor wasn't unfriendly; but, it was crisp and very business like.
"Just a moment while I get your papers in order" she said, looking through some documents on her desk. This pause gave me a moment to mull things over and I began to feel just a little anxious again about the disclosures made during the interview process. The nurse's demeanor didn't help matters either. Nonetheless, I quietly took a deep breath and waited nervously.
"Ok now Ms. Martin . . . or should I call you Leslie," she asked as she looked up after finding the appropriate paperwork. "Leslie is fine," I replied.
"Very well then Leslie, follow me, please," she said as she rose and opened a door for me. As it closed behind us, she told me to take a left down a very quiet and rather dimly lit hall way. As I did so, I saw a small room, bathed in light, further down the dark hall way. It appeared to be a small locker room, but it had no door, just an open portal. As we arrived there, I noticed a hook on the wall just inside the entrance to the room. On it was a paper examination gown, a plastic bag with a draw sting and a marker pen hanging from a lanyard.
We stopped at the entrance to this room and the nurse calmly and somewhat coolly said, "Please disrobe and put on the exam gown....you are to put your clothes in this, indicating the draw string bag hanging on the hook. I will be waiting right here." She immediately moved into the hall, just out of the doorway as she spoke, so that she wouldn't actually see me undress; but, anyone walking down the hall could easily have looked in as they passed. I hesitantly took off my shoes and clothes and placed them in the bag. I then quickly donned the skimpy paper gown, noticing right away that it only just reached the top of my thighs and barely covered my back side at all, even when I held the open back closed. I hoped that we wouldn't meet anyone in the hall.
I let the nurse know that I was ready. She stepped into the room and took my bagged clothes and quickly wrote my name and subject number on the bag with the marker pen. She stepped out into the hallway and opened a little door in the opposite wall. She passed my clothes through the little door to someone on the other side and immediately started off down the hall, bidding me to follow her.
"Nurse . . . can you tell me what's going to happen", I asked. "You are to be prepped for today's research", she answered, brusquely and, I thought, a bit ominously.
I inquired further, "yes, well, what does that entail", I asked, as I sped up to keep up with her and struggled futilely to keep the thin paper gown that I was wearing closed in the back.
"I'm not allowed to divulge that information now. You are here to comply with the contract for your participation in our research project. You'll be informed as today's tests proceed and, as you already know, if you decide to leave the project at any point during this or any other day of your participation, you will not be paid for your participation that day and you will be barred from further participation."
We walked briskly down the hall. To my relief, nobody was around, at least as far as I could tell.
We arrived at a door with a sign on it that read "Exam 2", which my escort opened. Just as she turned on the light in the room, I noticed a double door at the end of the hall. The sign above it read "Procedure Theater". Instantly, the idea of what was about to unfold began to sink in. Just then, the nurse turned and noticed that I was looking at the door to the Procedure Theater.
"You'll know soon enough ....now come ON," she said, briskly.
I turned and looked into the room that we were about to enter. It was tiled and to my dismay, had a exam table in the center of the room with the stirrups already extended. There were several stainless steel cabinets with glass doors holding various supplies and instruments built into one wall. I couldn't make out their contents clearly from where I stood. The room also had an area behind the table partitioned off by a half wall. The room was lit by a single, very bright, adjustable overhead light, like those in an operating room, that cast an island of intense white light down on the exam table while only dimly lighting the rest of the room. I was told to have a seat on the examination table.
As I climbed up the small step and sat down between the extended stirrups on the crisp paper covering the examination table, I was immediately aware that, when I sat, my thin paper gown was inadequate to completely cover my pubes. I also was very aware of the fact that the open back of my gown was now gaping open as I sat on the table, bathed in the intense light from above.
The nurse immediately got down to business and proceeded to ask me questions regarding my medical history, my age at onset of menses, my menstrual cycle, my sexual activity, my sexual preferences, birth control, smoking, drug and alcohol use. I found some of these questions embarrassing. I was barely 21 years old at the time, unmarried, from a small rural town, innately shy anyway and had been a virgin until just after I started college, three years before. I was therefore not very comfortable sharing details of my relatively new found sexuality with this brusque stranger.
As I thought about this, assuming that the worse was over for the time being, the nurse abruptly thanked me for the information and informed me that next, I would be "required to produce" a urine specimen. As I began to slide my bottom off of the table, I paused awkwardly to inquire where the rest room was. The nurse curtly replied that the test protocol required a, "mid-stream, observed, clean catch specimen" and that I would have to produce in front of her, either at the foot of the exam table, on the toilet with her present or squatting on the exam table. I was shocked.
She asked me which I'd prefer. I was mortified and, as I mulled over this "choice", the nurse retrieved a stainless steel emesis pan, a specimen jar, a fresh pair of exam gloves and an absorbent paper pad from one of the cabinets. When she returned to the table, she just stood and looked at me for a moment.
Finally she said, "OK, we don't have all day, so since you're indecisive, I'll make the choice for you: jump down here on the floor and stand in front of me." As I complied, the nurse turned and wheeled an exam stool over and sat down in front of me. She placed the pad on the floor between us with the emesis pan in its center and then put the specimen jar and the gloves into it.
Just then, all I seemed to be able to do was stare at the pan. I was literally speechless. The nurse snapped, "Come on, let's go, stand on this pad with you're your feet well apart and straddle the emesis pan, please." As I slowly complied with her orders, she donned the gloves, picked up the specimen cup and removed its cap. It occurred to me why I had been instructed to drink at least six full glasses of water that morning before arriving. This realization also made me suddenly aware that I did, indeed, need to urinate, in fact, pretty urgently.
The nurse then told me to squat over the emesis pan, hold my labia open and urinate into the emesis pan. I couldn't believe that this was happening but, by this point, I knew that compliance was the best policy.
I squatted, reached down and separated my labia using my index and the middle finger of my right hand and tried to "produce", but I couldn't, even despite the now pressing urge to do so. Noticing this, the nurse rose quickly, moved to the sink and started the water running gently and immediately returned to her perch before me. She said in a soothing tone, "just take my hand honey, so you don't loose your balance. That's right, now, close your eyes and just relax for me and listen to the water run".
As I tried to comply, urine started to flow intermittently. However, as I relaxed further, the erratic flow turned in a strong, steady stream. I opened my eyes just in time to see the nurse's gloved hand thrust the specimen jar into the warm yellow stream to collect the specimen and withdraw it.
The nurse then abruptly told me to let go of her hand and finish "urinating". She capped the pre-labeled jar and immediately passed it through a small door to someone in the other room for analysis by the lab. I wondered if they could hear what was going on in the room while I listened to my pee noisily cascading into the metal pan until I was completely relieved.
When I finished, the nurse offered me a tissue to wipe myself and showed me a trash container into which I was to discard the used tissue. While I wiped and disposed of my tissue, she discarded her gloves and the pad and emptied the emesis pan somewhere behind the half wall, but, as I later learned, only after she had measured and noted my "output".
The nurse returned and had me get up on a scale near the entrance to the room. She carefully weighed me and recorded both my weight, 119 pounds (54 Kg) and my height, 5 feet, seven inches (171 cm).
The nurse then said, "Hop up on the table for me, again, Leslie." I warily wondered what was next as I once again, perched myself on the edge of the table. As the nurse had said earlier, I was to find out, "soon enough".
The nurse proceeded to take my blood pressure (a bit high from my novel experience with the "clean catch"), pulse (a bit fast for the same reason) and respirations (rapid and a bit shallow due to my anxiety about what had just happened and what lay in store for the rest of the day). She carefully recorded all of the information in my chart and then looked up at me, fixing my eyes with her own and said, "OK, just recline on the table for me, sccot up to the top and roll over on your stomach. I reluctantly complied and, once I had done so, was told to move my ankles apart."
I watched the nurse out of the corner of my eye, apprehensive about what was about to occur. She wheeled in a stainless steel Mayo tray from behind the half wall and brought it over just to my left, at the head of the exam table. I could clearly see that on the tray there was a rectal thermometer (the type with a round ball on the end), a tube of surgical lubricant, a package labeled "Rectal Occult Blood Test Kit" and a fresh pair of exam gloves.
"Do you have to?", I asked looking into her eyes almost pleadingly. "Yes I have to", she said. "Move your ankles a bit further apart, please, that's it Leslie, now relax", she said. "God this is embarrassing", I sheepishly protested as I closed my eyes.
"It's going to get worse, before it gets better, missy", she said portentously, pulling the bottom of the flimsy exam gown open to expose my buttocks. I'm still not sure, but I could swear to this day that I could actually feel a slight breeze wafting over my exposed back side; however, I had no time to contemplate this, as I soon felt the nurse touch and then spread my buttocks with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand. Her cool, lubricated, right index finger then slowly but inexorably began to burrow into my little hole. I drew in my breath quickly and I let out a muted grunt. Once in to the knuckle, she twisted her finger around, probing and exploring my insides.
"Just relax for me, Honey, . . . it's just my finger", she said as my sphincter clamped down involuntarily on her finger at the sound of her voice. I felt my face blush bright red.
After what seemed to be a very long time, she withdrew her finger. To my horror, I noticed that it was streaked with feces. The nurse picked up a test card from the occult blood test kit and smeared a small amount of fecal matter onto the test card. She then carefully dropped the test card into a specimen jar, screwed down its lid tightly, discarded her soiled glove and again passed the specimen through the little door. As she returned, she replaced her glove with a new one. This made me wonder. It didn't take long to find out.
Without warning, the nurse picked up the thermometer. I braced myself for yet another indignity. Without saying a word, the thermometer was thrust it into my quivering anus. As the nurse held my cheeks and the thermometer, we both waited for my temp to register in silence. The only sounds that I could hear were the quiet flow of air through the building's ventilation system and the sound of my own shallow breathing.
I glanced around the room intently for some clue to what might be about to unfold during the rest of the day, even though most parts of the room were too dimly lit to really make out any details. Eventually, the nurse pulled the instrument from my bottom, read it and recorded the results before using a tissue to wipe the thermometer, which I also noticed was stained by stool. I turned a shade redder as she handed me another tissue and said, "clean yourself up". The nurse discarded her gloves and wheeled the Mayo Tray back behind the half wall while I complied.
She returned and told me, "We're going to have to get you cleaned out . . . it looks as if your quite full. The instructions that you were given stated that you were to eat lightly yesterday and last night. Didn't you follow them?", she asked accusingly. Without waiting for my response, she instructed me to turn over onto my left side with my right leg flexed up against my chest and my left leg bent just slightly. I learned later in the study that this position is called "Simms Lateral", a position with which I was to soon to become all too familiar.
I did as instructed and the nurse left briefly, only to return again with the Mayo Tray. In this position both my bottom and my labia were exposed to view. I watched with my upper body turned and strained to see her behind me. She opened two foil packets and placed them on the tray and squeezed out a small amount of lubricant onto a paper towel laid out on the Mayo table. I rolled my upper body back over, not wanting to watch her. I could hear gloves being put on again and, a moment later, she lifted my right buttock and quickly inserted one and then another suppository deep into my still well lubricated rectum and pushed them up deep inside of me. I couldn't help but groan again, but more at the indignity that I was enduring than due to any real discomfort.
"Now hold those until I tell you that you can use the toilet", said the nurse.
As I lay on the table, I heard water running behind the half wall. I also felt the suppositories start to work. Soon I wanted to use the toilet to get rid of them, but, when I asked for permission, the nurse told me, "I want you to hold them a bit longer. Just breath slowly and try to relax for another four or five minutes." After what seemed like eons of increasing urgency, punctuated by occasional begging, I was finally allowed to get off of the table and rush to relieve myself on the toilet behind the half wall. The nurse watched as I did so, but by this time, I couldn't have cared less. I just wanted to be rid of the contents of my irritated bowls.
The room filled with a feculent odor as I had a good BM. I relaxed and tended to my business. The nurse left me to prepare an enema. While I finished my BM, I watched the nurse hang a large enema bag, filled with milky white fluid on an IV pole and then roll it out into position next to the exam table. I opened my mouth to complain and then thought better of it.
I was being well paid to be there and I needed the money. I resolutely decided right then and there that I had to stoically accept what they were going to do to me.
I wiped as the nurse concluded her preparations. I walked back to the table where the nurse again placed me in Simms Lateral and then summarily parted my buttocks again. She inserted her finger into my rectum, but, this time, she moved it in and out a few times, explaining that she was just "lubricating my back passage" for the next "procedure".
The nurse stepped back and discarded her gloves in a single motion and then wheeled the IV pole right into my field of vision. It was then that I saw the nozzle, up close, for the first time. It was actually a thick rubber tube with a rounded tip with two oval shaped holes on either side. There were two small balloons near it's "business" end about an inch (2.5 cm) apart. There were also three pump bulbs along with a tubing connecter at the other end. I was to learn shortly, through first hand experience, that two of these bulbs inflated the balloons, one of which would lodge just inside my second anal sphincter, while the other dwelled just outside the first sphincter and my anal opening, to form a tight seal and to hold the tube securely in place after inflation. The third bulb was actually a one way pump that would be used to force the enema solution deeper and deeper into my bowls with each squeeze. The nurse noticed me looking at the nozzle and informed me that it was a 42 French rectal retention catheter as she gloved up once more and retrieved the tube of surgical lube from the Mayo Tray.
She then disappeared behind me and I heard the sound of gloves being put on, again. Suddenly, I felt the nozzle pushing against my "back door". The nurse told me to relax, take a deep breath, hold it for a moment and then breath out slowly. As I did, I felt, the nozzle slowly, but firmly, advancing up into me.
"UGGHHH..." I groaned as the first, partially inflated balloon passed my sphincters. "Relax, this isn't the bad part yet", said the nurse. I'm going to inflate the balloon inside of you now". As she pumped the bulb to inflate the first balloon, I felt a feeling of tremendous fullness in my rectum. "OOOH, I said, more in surprise than as a reaction to pain. "Now I'll inflate the second balloon to hold the rectal catheter firmly in place", said the nurse, "this is the potentially bad part for some of our test subjects", she added, ominously. As she inflated the second balloon, the feeling of fullness gave way to a gradually increasing feeling of tightness and fairly intense stretching. I wasn't in any real discomfort and I soon became accustomed to this bizarre, new sensation.
After applying, interviewing, a brief physical and some blood work, I was surprised and delight to be selected as a test subject despite the alarming disclosures made during the selection process. At the time, I was a perennially broke student and the position paid a whopping $1,300 per day for four days of participation over a four week period. Additionally, the project was considered relatively safe as medical studies go, particularly compared to something like drug trials.
I rationalized that, "it couldn't really be all that bad." After all, it was a peer reviewed protocol to be carried out at a top university's medical school in the course of medical research. However, when I came right down to it, the fact was that I desperately needed the $5,200 for next semester's tuition, books and supplies.
After hastily signing a long contract full of foreboding language and a lengthy Informed Consent form that I had just barely skimmed, I was scheduled to report for my first day in the study. I was to arrive on the following Friday at five AM. I was given a sheet of printed instructions, told to report to room B13 in the basement of the teaching hospital, on campus, at the appointed time and sent home.
The following Friday, after following all printed instructions to the letter, I arrived at room B13 at about 4:55 AM, filled with apprehension and feeling a little sleep deprived. I entered B13 and was immediately presented with a woman sitting behind a desk in a waiting room.
"Hi I'm Leslie . . ." , I started out, only to be interrupted.
"I know who you are....your Leslie Martin, the only one scheduled to arrive at this time," said the prickly woman. She was about forty, not entirely unattractive and wore a nurse's uniform. Her demeanor wasn't unfriendly; but, it was crisp and very business like.
"Just a moment while I get your papers in order" she said, looking through some documents on her desk. This pause gave me a moment to mull things over and I began to feel just a little anxious again about the disclosures made during the interview process. The nurse's demeanor didn't help matters either. Nonetheless, I quietly took a deep breath and waited nervously.
"Ok now Ms. Martin . . . or should I call you Leslie," she asked as she looked up after finding the appropriate paperwork. "Leslie is fine," I replied.
"Very well then Leslie, follow me, please," she said as she rose and opened a door for me. As it closed behind us, she told me to take a left down a very quiet and rather dimly lit hall way. As I did so, I saw a small room, bathed in light, further down the dark hall way. It appeared to be a small locker room, but it had no door, just an open portal. As we arrived there, I noticed a hook on the wall just inside the entrance to the room. On it was a paper examination gown, a plastic bag with a draw sting and a marker pen hanging from a lanyard.
We stopped at the entrance to this room and the nurse calmly and somewhat coolly said, "Please disrobe and put on the exam gown....you are to put your clothes in this, indicating the draw string bag hanging on the hook. I will be waiting right here." She immediately moved into the hall, just out of the doorway as she spoke, so that she wouldn't actually see me undress; but, anyone walking down the hall could easily have looked in as they passed. I hesitantly took off my shoes and clothes and placed them in the bag. I then quickly donned the skimpy paper gown, noticing right away that it only just reached the top of my thighs and barely covered my back side at all, even when I held the open back closed. I hoped that we wouldn't meet anyone in the hall.
I let the nurse know that I was ready. She stepped into the room and took my bagged clothes and quickly wrote my name and subject number on the bag with the marker pen. She stepped out into the hallway and opened a little door in the opposite wall. She passed my clothes through the little door to someone on the other side and immediately started off down the hall, bidding me to follow her.
"Nurse . . . can you tell me what's going to happen", I asked. "You are to be prepped for today's research", she answered, brusquely and, I thought, a bit ominously.
I inquired further, "yes, well, what does that entail", I asked, as I sped up to keep up with her and struggled futilely to keep the thin paper gown that I was wearing closed in the back.
"I'm not allowed to divulge that information now. You are here to comply with the contract for your participation in our research project. You'll be informed as today's tests proceed and, as you already know, if you decide to leave the project at any point during this or any other day of your participation, you will not be paid for your participation that day and you will be barred from further participation."
We walked briskly down the hall. To my relief, nobody was around, at least as far as I could tell.
We arrived at a door with a sign on it that read "Exam 2", which my escort opened. Just as she turned on the light in the room, I noticed a double door at the end of the hall. The sign above it read "Procedure Theater". Instantly, the idea of what was about to unfold began to sink in. Just then, the nurse turned and noticed that I was looking at the door to the Procedure Theater.
"You'll know soon enough ....now come ON," she said, briskly.
I turned and looked into the room that we were about to enter. It was tiled and to my dismay, had a exam table in the center of the room with the stirrups already extended. There were several stainless steel cabinets with glass doors holding various supplies and instruments built into one wall. I couldn't make out their contents clearly from where I stood. The room also had an area behind the table partitioned off by a half wall. The room was lit by a single, very bright, adjustable overhead light, like those in an operating room, that cast an island of intense white light down on the exam table while only dimly lighting the rest of the room. I was told to have a seat on the examination table.
As I climbed up the small step and sat down between the extended stirrups on the crisp paper covering the examination table, I was immediately aware that, when I sat, my thin paper gown was inadequate to completely cover my pubes. I also was very aware of the fact that the open back of my gown was now gaping open as I sat on the table, bathed in the intense light from above.
The nurse immediately got down to business and proceeded to ask me questions regarding my medical history, my age at onset of menses, my menstrual cycle, my sexual activity, my sexual preferences, birth control, smoking, drug and alcohol use. I found some of these questions embarrassing. I was barely 21 years old at the time, unmarried, from a small rural town, innately shy anyway and had been a virgin until just after I started college, three years before. I was therefore not very comfortable sharing details of my relatively new found sexuality with this brusque stranger.
As I thought about this, assuming that the worse was over for the time being, the nurse abruptly thanked me for the information and informed me that next, I would be "required to produce" a urine specimen. As I began to slide my bottom off of the table, I paused awkwardly to inquire where the rest room was. The nurse curtly replied that the test protocol required a, "mid-stream, observed, clean catch specimen" and that I would have to produce in front of her, either at the foot of the exam table, on the toilet with her present or squatting on the exam table. I was shocked.
She asked me which I'd prefer. I was mortified and, as I mulled over this "choice", the nurse retrieved a stainless steel emesis pan, a specimen jar, a fresh pair of exam gloves and an absorbent paper pad from one of the cabinets. When she returned to the table, she just stood and looked at me for a moment.
Finally she said, "OK, we don't have all day, so since you're indecisive, I'll make the choice for you: jump down here on the floor and stand in front of me." As I complied, the nurse turned and wheeled an exam stool over and sat down in front of me. She placed the pad on the floor between us with the emesis pan in its center and then put the specimen jar and the gloves into it.
Just then, all I seemed to be able to do was stare at the pan. I was literally speechless. The nurse snapped, "Come on, let's go, stand on this pad with you're your feet well apart and straddle the emesis pan, please." As I slowly complied with her orders, she donned the gloves, picked up the specimen cup and removed its cap. It occurred to me why I had been instructed to drink at least six full glasses of water that morning before arriving. This realization also made me suddenly aware that I did, indeed, need to urinate, in fact, pretty urgently.
The nurse then told me to squat over the emesis pan, hold my labia open and urinate into the emesis pan. I couldn't believe that this was happening but, by this point, I knew that compliance was the best policy.
I squatted, reached down and separated my labia using my index and the middle finger of my right hand and tried to "produce", but I couldn't, even despite the now pressing urge to do so. Noticing this, the nurse rose quickly, moved to the sink and started the water running gently and immediately returned to her perch before me. She said in a soothing tone, "just take my hand honey, so you don't loose your balance. That's right, now, close your eyes and just relax for me and listen to the water run".
As I tried to comply, urine started to flow intermittently. However, as I relaxed further, the erratic flow turned in a strong, steady stream. I opened my eyes just in time to see the nurse's gloved hand thrust the specimen jar into the warm yellow stream to collect the specimen and withdraw it.
The nurse then abruptly told me to let go of her hand and finish "urinating". She capped the pre-labeled jar and immediately passed it through a small door to someone in the other room for analysis by the lab. I wondered if they could hear what was going on in the room while I listened to my pee noisily cascading into the metal pan until I was completely relieved.
When I finished, the nurse offered me a tissue to wipe myself and showed me a trash container into which I was to discard the used tissue. While I wiped and disposed of my tissue, she discarded her gloves and the pad and emptied the emesis pan somewhere behind the half wall, but, as I later learned, only after she had measured and noted my "output".
The nurse returned and had me get up on a scale near the entrance to the room. She carefully weighed me and recorded both my weight, 119 pounds (54 Kg) and my height, 5 feet, seven inches (171 cm).
The nurse then said, "Hop up on the table for me, again, Leslie." I warily wondered what was next as I once again, perched myself on the edge of the table. As the nurse had said earlier, I was to find out, "soon enough".
The nurse proceeded to take my blood pressure (a bit high from my novel experience with the "clean catch"), pulse (a bit fast for the same reason) and respirations (rapid and a bit shallow due to my anxiety about what had just happened and what lay in store for the rest of the day). She carefully recorded all of the information in my chart and then looked up at me, fixing my eyes with her own and said, "OK, just recline on the table for me, sccot up to the top and roll over on your stomach. I reluctantly complied and, once I had done so, was told to move my ankles apart."
I watched the nurse out of the corner of my eye, apprehensive about what was about to occur. She wheeled in a stainless steel Mayo tray from behind the half wall and brought it over just to my left, at the head of the exam table. I could clearly see that on the tray there was a rectal thermometer (the type with a round ball on the end), a tube of surgical lubricant, a package labeled "Rectal Occult Blood Test Kit" and a fresh pair of exam gloves.
"Do you have to?", I asked looking into her eyes almost pleadingly. "Yes I have to", she said. "Move your ankles a bit further apart, please, that's it Leslie, now relax", she said. "God this is embarrassing", I sheepishly protested as I closed my eyes.
"It's going to get worse, before it gets better, missy", she said portentously, pulling the bottom of the flimsy exam gown open to expose my buttocks. I'm still not sure, but I could swear to this day that I could actually feel a slight breeze wafting over my exposed back side; however, I had no time to contemplate this, as I soon felt the nurse touch and then spread my buttocks with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand. Her cool, lubricated, right index finger then slowly but inexorably began to burrow into my little hole. I drew in my breath quickly and I let out a muted grunt. Once in to the knuckle, she twisted her finger around, probing and exploring my insides.
"Just relax for me, Honey, . . . it's just my finger", she said as my sphincter clamped down involuntarily on her finger at the sound of her voice. I felt my face blush bright red.
After what seemed to be a very long time, she withdrew her finger. To my horror, I noticed that it was streaked with feces. The nurse picked up a test card from the occult blood test kit and smeared a small amount of fecal matter onto the test card. She then carefully dropped the test card into a specimen jar, screwed down its lid tightly, discarded her soiled glove and again passed the specimen through the little door. As she returned, she replaced her glove with a new one. This made me wonder. It didn't take long to find out.
Without warning, the nurse picked up the thermometer. I braced myself for yet another indignity. Without saying a word, the thermometer was thrust it into my quivering anus. As the nurse held my cheeks and the thermometer, we both waited for my temp to register in silence. The only sounds that I could hear were the quiet flow of air through the building's ventilation system and the sound of my own shallow breathing.
I glanced around the room intently for some clue to what might be about to unfold during the rest of the day, even though most parts of the room were too dimly lit to really make out any details. Eventually, the nurse pulled the instrument from my bottom, read it and recorded the results before using a tissue to wipe the thermometer, which I also noticed was stained by stool. I turned a shade redder as she handed me another tissue and said, "clean yourself up". The nurse discarded her gloves and wheeled the Mayo Tray back behind the half wall while I complied.
She returned and told me, "We're going to have to get you cleaned out . . . it looks as if your quite full. The instructions that you were given stated that you were to eat lightly yesterday and last night. Didn't you follow them?", she asked accusingly. Without waiting for my response, she instructed me to turn over onto my left side with my right leg flexed up against my chest and my left leg bent just slightly. I learned later in the study that this position is called "Simms Lateral", a position with which I was to soon to become all too familiar.
I did as instructed and the nurse left briefly, only to return again with the Mayo Tray. In this position both my bottom and my labia were exposed to view. I watched with my upper body turned and strained to see her behind me. She opened two foil packets and placed them on the tray and squeezed out a small amount of lubricant onto a paper towel laid out on the Mayo table. I rolled my upper body back over, not wanting to watch her. I could hear gloves being put on again and, a moment later, she lifted my right buttock and quickly inserted one and then another suppository deep into my still well lubricated rectum and pushed them up deep inside of me. I couldn't help but groan again, but more at the indignity that I was enduring than due to any real discomfort.
"Now hold those until I tell you that you can use the toilet", said the nurse.
As I lay on the table, I heard water running behind the half wall. I also felt the suppositories start to work. Soon I wanted to use the toilet to get rid of them, but, when I asked for permission, the nurse told me, "I want you to hold them a bit longer. Just breath slowly and try to relax for another four or five minutes." After what seemed like eons of increasing urgency, punctuated by occasional begging, I was finally allowed to get off of the table and rush to relieve myself on the toilet behind the half wall. The nurse watched as I did so, but by this time, I couldn't have cared less. I just wanted to be rid of the contents of my irritated bowls.
The room filled with a feculent odor as I had a good BM. I relaxed and tended to my business. The nurse left me to prepare an enema. While I finished my BM, I watched the nurse hang a large enema bag, filled with milky white fluid on an IV pole and then roll it out into position next to the exam table. I opened my mouth to complain and then thought better of it.
I was being well paid to be there and I needed the money. I resolutely decided right then and there that I had to stoically accept what they were going to do to me.
I wiped as the nurse concluded her preparations. I walked back to the table where the nurse again placed me in Simms Lateral and then summarily parted my buttocks again. She inserted her finger into my rectum, but, this time, she moved it in and out a few times, explaining that she was just "lubricating my back passage" for the next "procedure".
The nurse stepped back and discarded her gloves in a single motion and then wheeled the IV pole right into my field of vision. It was then that I saw the nozzle, up close, for the first time. It was actually a thick rubber tube with a rounded tip with two oval shaped holes on either side. There were two small balloons near it's "business" end about an inch (2.5 cm) apart. There were also three pump bulbs along with a tubing connecter at the other end. I was to learn shortly, through first hand experience, that two of these bulbs inflated the balloons, one of which would lodge just inside my second anal sphincter, while the other dwelled just outside the first sphincter and my anal opening, to form a tight seal and to hold the tube securely in place after inflation. The third bulb was actually a one way pump that would be used to force the enema solution deeper and deeper into my bowls with each squeeze. The nurse noticed me looking at the nozzle and informed me that it was a 42 French rectal retention catheter as she gloved up once more and retrieved the tube of surgical lube from the Mayo Tray.
She then disappeared behind me and I heard the sound of gloves being put on, again. Suddenly, I felt the nozzle pushing against my "back door". The nurse told me to relax, take a deep breath, hold it for a moment and then breath out slowly. As I did, I felt, the nozzle slowly, but firmly, advancing up into me.
"UGGHHH..." I groaned as the first, partially inflated balloon passed my sphincters. "Relax, this isn't the bad part yet", said the nurse. I'm going to inflate the balloon inside of you now". As she pumped the bulb to inflate the first balloon, I felt a feeling of tremendous fullness in my rectum. "OOOH, I said, more in surprise than as a reaction to pain. "Now I'll inflate the second balloon to hold the rectal catheter firmly in place", said the nurse, "this is the potentially bad part for some of our test subjects", she added, ominously. As she inflated the second balloon, the feeling of fullness gave way to a gradually increasing feeling of tightness and fairly intense stretching. I wasn't in any real discomfort and I soon became accustomed to this bizarre, new sensation.
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The nurse began pumping the cold solution deep into my bowls with the third bulb. With that and each subsequent squeeze of that bulb, I could feel the pressure build as the solution gushed up into my bowls. The nurse pulled the stool around to the other side of the table and sat down with her face just a couple of feet (60 cm) from my own. She looked into my eyes and quietly said in measured tones, "this will be a lot easier if you just try to stay relaxed. I'll watch your face and if I see that we're going too fast I'll slow down and wait for you to relax, OK honey?" This made me wonder what had happened to Ms. Martin, or Leslie since we had first met less than an hour ago.
The nurse pumped the squeeze bulb every few seconds and with each squeeze my discomfort grew. I was intently determined, however, to show absolutely no signs of discomfort because I got the distinct impression that the nurse was actually enjoying my torment. Even so, the nurse could see the obvious signs of distress despite my efforts to conceal them. "Massage your tummy and take deep breaths, Leslie", the nurse said as she continued to look into my eyes and rhythmically squeeze the bulb.
As waves of cramps hit me, I massaged them away. It took about 10 minutes to slowly pump what I reckoned to be about three quarts (3100 cc) of the milky white solution in to me. I had long since realized that the enema was not only large and cold, it was also specifically designed to stimulate my bowls. Well before we finished, I had a very intense urge to defecate; however when she had finished her work, the nurse told me to roll over on my back despite my pleadings to use the toilet. I complied and she began to massage my belly to move the solution around in my tortured intestines. I was soon begging for the toilet again; but she told me that we would have to wait ten minutes for the enema to "work." And it certainly did work!
When I was finally allowed to go to the toilet, I was handed an absorbent pad that I held against my back side as I ran to the toilet behind the half wall to prevent junk from spewing out of me onto the floor. After several minutes of evacuating my roiled bowls, I thought it was over. But, over the next 15 minutes, more and more came out. As I sat on that toilet, I thought, "God this is punishment, not research", but then I thought of the $1,300 and relaxed. When I was eventually finished, I used a bidet and a nearby soap dispenser to clean myself up, both conveniently located adjacent to the toilet by people who obviously knew how this room would be used. I emerged from behind the half wall after washing my hands to see the nurse hanging another bag, this time with clear fluid.
"Oh, you can't be serious," I said, "please, not another one." She responded, "Sorry Honey, we need to rinse you out. This is just salty water and its very close to body temperature. It should be kind of soothing."
When I got back on the table, she placed me in "Lithotomy" position, flat on my back with my feet well back and apart in the stirrups. Again, this was a position that I'd subsequently become quiet familiar with during the course of the study. The nurse had me slide my bottom down to the end of the table and told me to, "let (my) legs flop open".
Soon the water filled me again. We waited a few minutes during which I massaged my belly. Then I was let down to "go", however, the nurse told me not to flush this time. Junk still came out of me but it was mostly clear water. After inspecting the contents of the toilet bowl, the nurse informed me that, "it looks like we will need one more."
This time, the nurse placed me in the "knee chest" or Genupectoral Position, i.e.: on my knees face down, with my shoulders against the table, my back arched slightly concave, my arms at my sides and my knees well apart. I took my third enema of the morning, with my flimsy paper gown and my breasts both dangling down on the table in this startlingly vulnerable and almost obscenely exposed position. Now, the water from my insides ran clear. By this time, I was starting to feel a bit wrung out and cranky, so, as I emerged again from behind the half wall and heard the nurse say, ""Ok up on the table . . I need to get you shaved," I almost lost it.
"SHAVED?.....What for?"
"Because your contract requires that your pudendum (the entire area between my legs) , perineum (the area between my vagina and my anus) and perianal area (the area around my anus) to be shaved completely . . . This won't be bad at all, so up you go now, Lithotomy Position, please."
I huffed as I stepped up onto the table again and laid back looking at the ceiling. I put my legs into the stirrups and the nurse came over to help me get my feet comfortable and to have me "scoot" my bottom down to the edge of the table. She then touched my knees and gently parted my legs, first just a bit and then wider and wider until she had them about as far apart was they would comfortably go. I was surprised when she went to one of the cabinets and procured two pairs of straps. She placed little straps at each knee, fastened to the accessory rails on each side of the exam table to hold my legs wide open and cinched them down. She then fastened my ankles securely into the stirrups with another pair of straps. She explained that this would relieve me of having to hold my legs back and open for the somewhat protracted "depilation procedure" to follow. The nurse immediately lathered me up and started to take the hair from between my legs. The humiliation was intense and tears came to my eyes and I made a piteous little whimper.
Noticing this, the nurse said, "stop that . . . it will grow back after the research project is over." "Yes, but what will my boy friend say?" I asked somewhat pathetically. "I have no idea what he'll say", she replied sarcastically as she worked the razor over my mons pubis and made her way down over my labia and then back to my perineum and anus.
Just then the door to the exam room burst open and in walked a older man with salt and pepper gray hair and a dignified demeanor wearing a lab coat. The intrusion startled me and I moved my arms to cover my breasts. I couldn't, however, close my legs because the straps held them open. My face turned beet red as I lay there with my sex exposed to this intruder.
"My name is Doctor Bower . . . I will be performing your physical and getting you ready you for today's research", the man said as he took my chart. "I'm a professor of medicine here in the teaching hospital. Is she almost ready, nurse", he asked as he looked up from the chart without even acknowledging me.
"Almost, doctor; but, you should be able to start now while I'm finish up here."
"OK then" he said as he took his stethoscope out of the pocket of his lab coat and came over to my side. He pulled up my gown. My instinct was to pull it back down to preserve my modesty. I look back on this reaction with amusement today, given my already highly exposed state at the time.
The doctor said, "No Ms. Martin. Keep your hands at your sides from here on out or you'll have to be restrained". I allowed him to raise my gown again. Now, the entire lower half of my body was exposed to him. He listen to my heart and had me breath deeply as he listened to my chest. He also listened to my tummy and palpated my abdomen.
"I can see that she's been well prepared, nurse", he said with an air of satisfaction in his voice.
"Yep two suppositories and three enemas" the nurse replied as she finished shaving my perineum and the area around my anus.
He pulled the gown back down and reached behind my head.
"Lift up a little," he said. I lifted my head and he reached behind the base of my neck and broke the paper tie at the top of my gown. When I asked why, he responded curtly, "you won't be wearing it much longer" and proceeded to lower my gown well below my breasts, almost to my navel. As he did so, my hands went up again instinctively. He looked at me sternly and I lowered them to my sides, only to move them subsequently, exactly as instructed, as the breast exam proceeded. He palpated each breast at length, also paying careful attention to my nipples, areola and axilla (arm pits), as well.
"Any pain, tenderness or discharge?" he asked as he "milked" each nipple, rather roughly. I grimaced, but managed to shake my head "no".
"Good", he said and pulled the gown back up over my breasts. The nurse had cleaned up my bottom and left me there. The doctor went over to the counter and put on some gloves and returned to sit on the stool between my spread and restrained legs. The nurse wheeled a tray into place for him and I watched as he put lubricant on his fingers and brought them down between my legs, just out of my sight. I felt the fingers of his right hand at my vaginal opening and then they were inside of me. He took his other hand and pressed down on each side of my lower abdomen just above my pubic bone.
"Any pain or discomfort?", he asked. I shook my head no; but, almost right away his left hand moved up to the vicinity of my left ovary, which he then captured between it and the deeply probing fingers inside my vaginal vault. He palpated my ovary at length. This was uncomfortable and I began to squirm a bit. Then he applied pressure. "Ummmmm!" I grunted in obvious discomfort. But the pressure didn't let up. He continued to roughly palpate my ovary, rolling it back and forth between his probing fingers and his hand. I spoke up to register complaint but the doctor continued as the pitch of my voice rose in unison with my discomfort. "Just bear with me a second more, Leslie, I know that it hurts but I need to carefully access your ovaries before we begin today", he said. He had no sooner finished his sentence than his attention turned to my right ovary, which he captured between his fingers and hand and began to thoroughly palpate, just as he had with my other ovary. He again applied pressure and continued palpation of the ovary. I began to squirm and groan as I experienced substantial but not unbearable discomfort. "Stay with me, almost done here. You're doing a good job, Leslie, just try to relax for me now", he intoned soothingly as the pain shot through my pelvis.
Then just as suddenly as it began, the discomfort was gone and he pulled his fingers out of me and reached for a speculum on the tray. The metal bills slipped into me and opened me up. He used a pen light to look into my open vagina.
"Her cervix is nulliparous and tightly closed. My examination of her hymenal caruncle (the left over tissue from the rupture of my hymen) confirms that she is sexually active . . . nurse, let me have a tenaculum, forceps and a Sigmans stick, please . . . Ms. Martin . . . I'm going to dilate your cervix just a bit . . . you may feel a pinch and then a little cramping", said the doctor, without looking up at me.
"Why....what's it for," I asked. This is all part of the protocol for which you contracted, Leslie." He went on to explain that, "later this morning I will insert a small, sterile, stainless steel flange into your cervix to facilitate a fiber optic study of your uterus and to act as a signal conductor. Because you've never born children, the opening of your cervix is closed tightly. I need to open and dilate it a little so that I'll be able to place the flange." I was dumbfounded and didn't know what to say in reply, so I said nothing.
With that, he put on sterile gloves and the nurse handed him a a long pair of forceps with a cotton ball soaked in Betadine disinfectant solution clamped into its jaws, which he used to thoroughly swab the entire area around my now completely exposed cervix and its os (opening).
I saw the doctor take a very long metal grasping device with a slight beak on the grasping end, called a tenaculum, and heard metal against metal as it went up into me through the bills of the open speculum. I could feel the tenaculum grip my cervix, pull it toward my vaginal opening and then hold it in traction. The feeling was novel but not particularly painful. As the doctor maintained traction on my cervix with the tenaculum, I saw a long pair of forceps with the Sigmans stick locked in its jaws go down between my legs. Again, I could hear the instrument go into the speculum and felt a little "pinch" and then some cramping as it was placed into my cervical os and then pushed up into the lower end of my birth canal. The long forceps and the tenaculum were then removed and I relaxed for a while, but, as the stick absorbed moisture from my endometrium and expanded in the lower end of my birth canal over a period of some minutes, the cramping increased. I complained about the discomfort but the nurse just held my hand. The doctor said, "hang in there for a while, Leslie, good job, your doing fine."
The Sigmans stick remained in place and the speculum was removed. The nurse almost immediately covered me with a pre-warmed blanket and told me to relax for a while, even though I was still in the stirrups. I closed my eyes and drifted a bit, but was distracted by the sound of instruments clanking onto the Mayo Tray as I lay there dreamily.
As I nearly dosed, I felt the doctor's well lubed finger again as it invaded my anus. He inserted it slowly and felt around the entire circumference of my rectum and then advanced his finger a bit further and repeated the whole process again. Then he pushed deeper and explored some more. As he did so, the crooked his finger upward, in the general direction of my belly button and I could actually feel him stroking my "G" spot right through my recto-vaginal wall. I immediately began to feel the first stirring of arousal well up deep inside of me. I took in a deep breath and couldn't help but hold it until he was done.
I opened my eyes just in time to see him pick up something long and metallic from the Mayo Tray that I couldn't quite make out. I heard him say, Leslie, I need you up in the knee chest position, please. As he said this the nurse stepped up to the table to remove the blanket, release the straps on the stirrups and help position me. Once in position, she remained by my side, with her hand in the small of my back, to steady me and to remind me that my back was to remain slightly flexed with my "rump up."
With that, the doctor brought the instrument to my anus and slowly pushed it into me, deeper and deeper, inch by inch, as I felt occasional puffs of air being blown into my bowls from a small tube and bulb connected to the instrument. Every time the doctor squeezed the bulb, air inflated the portion of my bowel just in front of the tip of the instrument to aid the doctor in maneuvering it up through my rectum, my sigmoid colon, my descending colon and all the way to the splenic fixture at it's very top. As the instrument's bullet shaped tip passed my splenic fixture and traveled into the first couple of inches of my traverse colon, I felt an oddly thrilling sensation deep in my belly that made me grunt involuntarily, tighten my abdominal muscles and curl my toes.
The instrument was now in up to its hilt. The doctor un-screwed and removed something from the instrument that looked like a large bullet on the end of a rod. I could then see that the instrument must be at least fourteen inches up into my rectum and that it's bulbous tip was removable. I later learned that this tip and the rod attached to it is called the "Obturator" and that the procedure is called a Rigid Sigmoidoscopy.
The doctor then flipped a little switch on the instrument that lighted its interior and peered into the tubular instrument as he slowly maneuvered it out of me, carefully inspecting the lining of every inch of my sigmoid colon and rectum as he went. Once the instrument was removed, he placed it on the tray for the nurse to take away. I was relieved to notice that it was completely clean.
He took off both gloves and asked me to turn over and re-assume Lithotomy position. As I complied, I couldn't help but make rude noises as I released some of the air that he had inject. Doctor Bower seemed unperturbed by this and assured me that it was completely normal to "pass gas" after such a procedure. Once I was in position and finished "passing gas", he put on new gloves and lubricated two fingers of his right hand with surgical jelly from a tube on the tray. He stood up and placed one hand on my left knee and, with the other, inserted a finger into my vagina and one into my rectum. He seemed to look pensively off into the distance as poked and felt around for a minute or so.
Just then the phone in the exam room rang and the nurse answered. "Yes", she said, "thank you" and then hung up. "Her urine sample is back, but with possible contaminants", she announced.
The doctor made a huffing sound as he disconnected the electronic thermometer to leave the wires to once again jus dangle from my anus. "Well we better get a sterile specimen then," he said as he took off his gloves and left to wash his hands. He soon returned and sat down again between my legs. The nursed placed a packet labeled "sterile gloves" on the tray which the doctor retrieved and put on. He then used his left hand to gently spread my labia with his gloved thumb and forefinger. I felt cool air on my pee hole as he held my lips apart. The nurse handed him a swab soaked in Betadine disinfectant and he swiped it right down the middle of my crack and over my pee hole. "OOOOH", I said. He did this two more times, each time with a fresh swab and each time eliciting the same surprised response from me. The doctor thoroughly cleansed the area above and around my urethral meatus. The nurse handed him yet another swab which then used to burrow just slightly into my urethra. Again, I vocalized my surprise and discomfort. The doctor paid little attention to this and began to twist the swab, thoroughly cleaning the opening before extracting it.
Then the nurse handed him what looked like a vial with a tiny tube attached to it. I felt the tiny tube go into my pee hole and reflexively hissed in some air as it did. A few seconds later, the doctor pulled out the tube and raised the vial up to show the clear yellow urine that he had just collected. He handed the vial to the nurse, pulled off his gloves and told the nurse, "they will be coming for her in about twenty minutes....I'm going to see if the theater is ready." He then washed his hands and left without saying another word. The nurse once again passed the urine specimen through the tiny door in the wall and returned to help me out of the stirrups. She covered me with another warmed blanket, told me to relax for a while and then went about cleaning up the exam room as I rolled onto my side and wondered who was behind the little door and what they knew about what transpired in this room.
As I drifted dreamily, I wondered "What was that all about?..... the doctor sure seemed interested in my bottom", I thought. My hands were between my closed and slightly bent legs and I could feel my smooth, bare crotch. I could also feel the Sigmans stick, still in place in my birth canal, expanding and dilating my cervical os and causing a constant dull, achy cramping.
After about twenty minutes, my reverie was interrupted by the entry of two men in white pants and shirts. These men were both built like bouncers with wide shoulders and body's that were strong and athletic. They were "attendants".
"Ok Leslie, it's time to take you to the theater now," the nurse said. I sat up on the edge of the table trying not to think of the Sigmans stick that was still swelling in one of the most tender parts of my anatomy. I shook all over and my heart pounded, as I stood up. One man walked over to steady me while the other approached me out of the shadows with something in his hand, but exactly what, I couldn't tell.
" Open your mouth, Miss," he said. I looked over at the nurse and she just nodded her head at me. I opened my mouth. The attendant immediately shoved something hard and metallic, coated with rubber, into my mouth. The metal frame now holding my mouth open was pivoted on either side, outside of my mouth, near the pivot of my jaw. The rubber coated part protruded into my mouth between my upper and lower teeth. I heard metallic clicks as the device was ratcheted open to hold my jaws wide apart. A strap was placed around the back of my neck and attached at the pivot points on each side of my face to hold the device firmly in place. I tried repeatedly to work the device out with my tongue or to open my jaw further so that it could be dislodged; but, I couldn't. I bit down on the device but it didn't yield. I remember thinking at the time that that the rubber was there to protect my teeth and that the device was clearly going to stay in place, whether I liked it or not. I took in air through my mouth and it was soon very dry.
The nurse pumped the squeeze bulb every few seconds and with each squeeze my discomfort grew. I was intently determined, however, to show absolutely no signs of discomfort because I got the distinct impression that the nurse was actually enjoying my torment. Even so, the nurse could see the obvious signs of distress despite my efforts to conceal them. "Massage your tummy and take deep breaths, Leslie", the nurse said as she continued to look into my eyes and rhythmically squeeze the bulb.
As waves of cramps hit me, I massaged them away. It took about 10 minutes to slowly pump what I reckoned to be about three quarts (3100 cc) of the milky white solution in to me. I had long since realized that the enema was not only large and cold, it was also specifically designed to stimulate my bowls. Well before we finished, I had a very intense urge to defecate; however when she had finished her work, the nurse told me to roll over on my back despite my pleadings to use the toilet. I complied and she began to massage my belly to move the solution around in my tortured intestines. I was soon begging for the toilet again; but she told me that we would have to wait ten minutes for the enema to "work." And it certainly did work!
When I was finally allowed to go to the toilet, I was handed an absorbent pad that I held against my back side as I ran to the toilet behind the half wall to prevent junk from spewing out of me onto the floor. After several minutes of evacuating my roiled bowls, I thought it was over. But, over the next 15 minutes, more and more came out. As I sat on that toilet, I thought, "God this is punishment, not research", but then I thought of the $1,300 and relaxed. When I was eventually finished, I used a bidet and a nearby soap dispenser to clean myself up, both conveniently located adjacent to the toilet by people who obviously knew how this room would be used. I emerged from behind the half wall after washing my hands to see the nurse hanging another bag, this time with clear fluid.
"Oh, you can't be serious," I said, "please, not another one." She responded, "Sorry Honey, we need to rinse you out. This is just salty water and its very close to body temperature. It should be kind of soothing."
When I got back on the table, she placed me in "Lithotomy" position, flat on my back with my feet well back and apart in the stirrups. Again, this was a position that I'd subsequently become quiet familiar with during the course of the study. The nurse had me slide my bottom down to the end of the table and told me to, "let (my) legs flop open".
Soon the water filled me again. We waited a few minutes during which I massaged my belly. Then I was let down to "go", however, the nurse told me not to flush this time. Junk still came out of me but it was mostly clear water. After inspecting the contents of the toilet bowl, the nurse informed me that, "it looks like we will need one more."
This time, the nurse placed me in the "knee chest" or Genupectoral Position, i.e.: on my knees face down, with my shoulders against the table, my back arched slightly concave, my arms at my sides and my knees well apart. I took my third enema of the morning, with my flimsy paper gown and my breasts both dangling down on the table in this startlingly vulnerable and almost obscenely exposed position. Now, the water from my insides ran clear. By this time, I was starting to feel a bit wrung out and cranky, so, as I emerged again from behind the half wall and heard the nurse say, ""Ok up on the table . . I need to get you shaved," I almost lost it.
"SHAVED?.....What for?"
"Because your contract requires that your pudendum (the entire area between my legs) , perineum (the area between my vagina and my anus) and perianal area (the area around my anus) to be shaved completely . . . This won't be bad at all, so up you go now, Lithotomy Position, please."
I huffed as I stepped up onto the table again and laid back looking at the ceiling. I put my legs into the stirrups and the nurse came over to help me get my feet comfortable and to have me "scoot" my bottom down to the edge of the table. She then touched my knees and gently parted my legs, first just a bit and then wider and wider until she had them about as far apart was they would comfortably go. I was surprised when she went to one of the cabinets and procured two pairs of straps. She placed little straps at each knee, fastened to the accessory rails on each side of the exam table to hold my legs wide open and cinched them down. She then fastened my ankles securely into the stirrups with another pair of straps. She explained that this would relieve me of having to hold my legs back and open for the somewhat protracted "depilation procedure" to follow. The nurse immediately lathered me up and started to take the hair from between my legs. The humiliation was intense and tears came to my eyes and I made a piteous little whimper.
Noticing this, the nurse said, "stop that . . . it will grow back after the research project is over." "Yes, but what will my boy friend say?" I asked somewhat pathetically. "I have no idea what he'll say", she replied sarcastically as she worked the razor over my mons pubis and made her way down over my labia and then back to my perineum and anus.
Just then the door to the exam room burst open and in walked a older man with salt and pepper gray hair and a dignified demeanor wearing a lab coat. The intrusion startled me and I moved my arms to cover my breasts. I couldn't, however, close my legs because the straps held them open. My face turned beet red as I lay there with my sex exposed to this intruder.
"My name is Doctor Bower . . . I will be performing your physical and getting you ready you for today's research", the man said as he took my chart. "I'm a professor of medicine here in the teaching hospital. Is she almost ready, nurse", he asked as he looked up from the chart without even acknowledging me.
"Almost, doctor; but, you should be able to start now while I'm finish up here."
"OK then" he said as he took his stethoscope out of the pocket of his lab coat and came over to my side. He pulled up my gown. My instinct was to pull it back down to preserve my modesty. I look back on this reaction with amusement today, given my already highly exposed state at the time.
The doctor said, "No Ms. Martin. Keep your hands at your sides from here on out or you'll have to be restrained". I allowed him to raise my gown again. Now, the entire lower half of my body was exposed to him. He listen to my heart and had me breath deeply as he listened to my chest. He also listened to my tummy and palpated my abdomen.
"I can see that she's been well prepared, nurse", he said with an air of satisfaction in his voice.
"Yep two suppositories and three enemas" the nurse replied as she finished shaving my perineum and the area around my anus.
He pulled the gown back down and reached behind my head.
"Lift up a little," he said. I lifted my head and he reached behind the base of my neck and broke the paper tie at the top of my gown. When I asked why, he responded curtly, "you won't be wearing it much longer" and proceeded to lower my gown well below my breasts, almost to my navel. As he did so, my hands went up again instinctively. He looked at me sternly and I lowered them to my sides, only to move them subsequently, exactly as instructed, as the breast exam proceeded. He palpated each breast at length, also paying careful attention to my nipples, areola and axilla (arm pits), as well.
"Any pain, tenderness or discharge?" he asked as he "milked" each nipple, rather roughly. I grimaced, but managed to shake my head "no".
"Good", he said and pulled the gown back up over my breasts. The nurse had cleaned up my bottom and left me there. The doctor went over to the counter and put on some gloves and returned to sit on the stool between my spread and restrained legs. The nurse wheeled a tray into place for him and I watched as he put lubricant on his fingers and brought them down between my legs, just out of my sight. I felt the fingers of his right hand at my vaginal opening and then they were inside of me. He took his other hand and pressed down on each side of my lower abdomen just above my pubic bone.
"Any pain or discomfort?", he asked. I shook my head no; but, almost right away his left hand moved up to the vicinity of my left ovary, which he then captured between it and the deeply probing fingers inside my vaginal vault. He palpated my ovary at length. This was uncomfortable and I began to squirm a bit. Then he applied pressure. "Ummmmm!" I grunted in obvious discomfort. But the pressure didn't let up. He continued to roughly palpate my ovary, rolling it back and forth between his probing fingers and his hand. I spoke up to register complaint but the doctor continued as the pitch of my voice rose in unison with my discomfort. "Just bear with me a second more, Leslie, I know that it hurts but I need to carefully access your ovaries before we begin today", he said. He had no sooner finished his sentence than his attention turned to my right ovary, which he captured between his fingers and hand and began to thoroughly palpate, just as he had with my other ovary. He again applied pressure and continued palpation of the ovary. I began to squirm and groan as I experienced substantial but not unbearable discomfort. "Stay with me, almost done here. You're doing a good job, Leslie, just try to relax for me now", he intoned soothingly as the pain shot through my pelvis.
Then just as suddenly as it began, the discomfort was gone and he pulled his fingers out of me and reached for a speculum on the tray. The metal bills slipped into me and opened me up. He used a pen light to look into my open vagina.
"Her cervix is nulliparous and tightly closed. My examination of her hymenal caruncle (the left over tissue from the rupture of my hymen) confirms that she is sexually active . . . nurse, let me have a tenaculum, forceps and a Sigmans stick, please . . . Ms. Martin . . . I'm going to dilate your cervix just a bit . . . you may feel a pinch and then a little cramping", said the doctor, without looking up at me.
"Why....what's it for," I asked. This is all part of the protocol for which you contracted, Leslie." He went on to explain that, "later this morning I will insert a small, sterile, stainless steel flange into your cervix to facilitate a fiber optic study of your uterus and to act as a signal conductor. Because you've never born children, the opening of your cervix is closed tightly. I need to open and dilate it a little so that I'll be able to place the flange." I was dumbfounded and didn't know what to say in reply, so I said nothing.
With that, he put on sterile gloves and the nurse handed him a a long pair of forceps with a cotton ball soaked in Betadine disinfectant solution clamped into its jaws, which he used to thoroughly swab the entire area around my now completely exposed cervix and its os (opening).
I saw the doctor take a very long metal grasping device with a slight beak on the grasping end, called a tenaculum, and heard metal against metal as it went up into me through the bills of the open speculum. I could feel the tenaculum grip my cervix, pull it toward my vaginal opening and then hold it in traction. The feeling was novel but not particularly painful. As the doctor maintained traction on my cervix with the tenaculum, I saw a long pair of forceps with the Sigmans stick locked in its jaws go down between my legs. Again, I could hear the instrument go into the speculum and felt a little "pinch" and then some cramping as it was placed into my cervical os and then pushed up into the lower end of my birth canal. The long forceps and the tenaculum were then removed and I relaxed for a while, but, as the stick absorbed moisture from my endometrium and expanded in the lower end of my birth canal over a period of some minutes, the cramping increased. I complained about the discomfort but the nurse just held my hand. The doctor said, "hang in there for a while, Leslie, good job, your doing fine."
The Sigmans stick remained in place and the speculum was removed. The nurse almost immediately covered me with a pre-warmed blanket and told me to relax for a while, even though I was still in the stirrups. I closed my eyes and drifted a bit, but was distracted by the sound of instruments clanking onto the Mayo Tray as I lay there dreamily.
As I nearly dosed, I felt the doctor's well lubed finger again as it invaded my anus. He inserted it slowly and felt around the entire circumference of my rectum and then advanced his finger a bit further and repeated the whole process again. Then he pushed deeper and explored some more. As he did so, the crooked his finger upward, in the general direction of my belly button and I could actually feel him stroking my "G" spot right through my recto-vaginal wall. I immediately began to feel the first stirring of arousal well up deep inside of me. I took in a deep breath and couldn't help but hold it until he was done.
I opened my eyes just in time to see him pick up something long and metallic from the Mayo Tray that I couldn't quite make out. I heard him say, Leslie, I need you up in the knee chest position, please. As he said this the nurse stepped up to the table to remove the blanket, release the straps on the stirrups and help position me. Once in position, she remained by my side, with her hand in the small of my back, to steady me and to remind me that my back was to remain slightly flexed with my "rump up."
With that, the doctor brought the instrument to my anus and slowly pushed it into me, deeper and deeper, inch by inch, as I felt occasional puffs of air being blown into my bowls from a small tube and bulb connected to the instrument. Every time the doctor squeezed the bulb, air inflated the portion of my bowel just in front of the tip of the instrument to aid the doctor in maneuvering it up through my rectum, my sigmoid colon, my descending colon and all the way to the splenic fixture at it's very top. As the instrument's bullet shaped tip passed my splenic fixture and traveled into the first couple of inches of my traverse colon, I felt an oddly thrilling sensation deep in my belly that made me grunt involuntarily, tighten my abdominal muscles and curl my toes.
The instrument was now in up to its hilt. The doctor un-screwed and removed something from the instrument that looked like a large bullet on the end of a rod. I could then see that the instrument must be at least fourteen inches up into my rectum and that it's bulbous tip was removable. I later learned that this tip and the rod attached to it is called the "Obturator" and that the procedure is called a Rigid Sigmoidoscopy.
The doctor then flipped a little switch on the instrument that lighted its interior and peered into the tubular instrument as he slowly maneuvered it out of me, carefully inspecting the lining of every inch of my sigmoid colon and rectum as he went. Once the instrument was removed, he placed it on the tray for the nurse to take away. I was relieved to notice that it was completely clean.
He took off both gloves and asked me to turn over and re-assume Lithotomy position. As I complied, I couldn't help but make rude noises as I released some of the air that he had inject. Doctor Bower seemed unperturbed by this and assured me that it was completely normal to "pass gas" after such a procedure. Once I was in position and finished "passing gas", he put on new gloves and lubricated two fingers of his right hand with surgical jelly from a tube on the tray. He stood up and placed one hand on my left knee and, with the other, inserted a finger into my vagina and one into my rectum. He seemed to look pensively off into the distance as poked and felt around for a minute or so.
Just then the phone in the exam room rang and the nurse answered. "Yes", she said, "thank you" and then hung up. "Her urine sample is back, but with possible contaminants", she announced.
The doctor made a huffing sound as he disconnected the electronic thermometer to leave the wires to once again jus dangle from my anus. "Well we better get a sterile specimen then," he said as he took off his gloves and left to wash his hands. He soon returned and sat down again between my legs. The nursed placed a packet labeled "sterile gloves" on the tray which the doctor retrieved and put on. He then used his left hand to gently spread my labia with his gloved thumb and forefinger. I felt cool air on my pee hole as he held my lips apart. The nurse handed him a swab soaked in Betadine disinfectant and he swiped it right down the middle of my crack and over my pee hole. "OOOOH", I said. He did this two more times, each time with a fresh swab and each time eliciting the same surprised response from me. The doctor thoroughly cleansed the area above and around my urethral meatus. The nurse handed him yet another swab which then used to burrow just slightly into my urethra. Again, I vocalized my surprise and discomfort. The doctor paid little attention to this and began to twist the swab, thoroughly cleaning the opening before extracting it.
Then the nurse handed him what looked like a vial with a tiny tube attached to it. I felt the tiny tube go into my pee hole and reflexively hissed in some air as it did. A few seconds later, the doctor pulled out the tube and raised the vial up to show the clear yellow urine that he had just collected. He handed the vial to the nurse, pulled off his gloves and told the nurse, "they will be coming for her in about twenty minutes....I'm going to see if the theater is ready." He then washed his hands and left without saying another word. The nurse once again passed the urine specimen through the tiny door in the wall and returned to help me out of the stirrups. She covered me with another warmed blanket, told me to relax for a while and then went about cleaning up the exam room as I rolled onto my side and wondered who was behind the little door and what they knew about what transpired in this room.
As I drifted dreamily, I wondered "What was that all about?..... the doctor sure seemed interested in my bottom", I thought. My hands were between my closed and slightly bent legs and I could feel my smooth, bare crotch. I could also feel the Sigmans stick, still in place in my birth canal, expanding and dilating my cervical os and causing a constant dull, achy cramping.
After about twenty minutes, my reverie was interrupted by the entry of two men in white pants and shirts. These men were both built like bouncers with wide shoulders and body's that were strong and athletic. They were "attendants".
"Ok Leslie, it's time to take you to the theater now," the nurse said. I sat up on the edge of the table trying not to think of the Sigmans stick that was still swelling in one of the most tender parts of my anatomy. I shook all over and my heart pounded, as I stood up. One man walked over to steady me while the other approached me out of the shadows with something in his hand, but exactly what, I couldn't tell.
" Open your mouth, Miss," he said. I looked over at the nurse and she just nodded her head at me. I opened my mouth. The attendant immediately shoved something hard and metallic, coated with rubber, into my mouth. The metal frame now holding my mouth open was pivoted on either side, outside of my mouth, near the pivot of my jaw. The rubber coated part protruded into my mouth between my upper and lower teeth. I heard metallic clicks as the device was ratcheted open to hold my jaws wide apart. A strap was placed around the back of my neck and attached at the pivot points on each side of my face to hold the device firmly in place. I tried repeatedly to work the device out with my tongue or to open my jaw further so that it could be dislodged; but, I couldn't. I bit down on the device but it didn't yield. I remember thinking at the time that that the rubber was there to protect my teeth and that the device was clearly going to stay in place, whether I liked it or not. I took in air through my mouth and it was soon very dry.
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"Breath through your nose," the nurse said as she came up and swabbed the inside of my mouth with some foul tasting stuff. I coughed a bit as this was being done which suddenly made me aware again of the Sigmans stick in my aching, cramping core.
The nurse opened the door of the examination room and the two men led me out into the hall with my paper gown flapping open behind me. I tried to reach back to hold the gown closed, but the men had my arms firmly pinned to my sides. We made a turn into the hall way toward the door marked "Procedure Theater" as my heart raced. One of the men opened the door while the other, following behind me, gave me a gentle shove to get me moving me through the door way. My eyes popped wide open when I saw what was in the "Procedure Theatre".
There in the middle of the large room was a massive, stainless steel operating table with sturdy knee crutches for my legs, each with three straps hanging from it. There were also stainless steel extensions sticking out from each side of the gleaming table with straps hanging from them, as well. Each side of the table had accessory rails for the extensions and knee crutches that also served as anchor points for more straps, obviously intended for my torso and hips.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as I was led to the foot of the table and helped up onto it. The men sat me down firmly at it's edge. They did not, however, release their tight grasp on my upper arms.
I looked around violently in an attempt to take in everything and make sense of what was about to happen to me. There were bags hanging from poles, instrument tables, equipment on carts and various people working busily. The nurse came over to me and just snatched the paper gown away in one motion. My hands reflexively moved to retrieve it, but the attendants iron grasp on my arms prevented that. I couldn't move my arms or hands at all. The nurse quietly said, "don't worry, honey, you won't need this now." I was now completely naked in front of all these people, most of whom were men. Tears came to my eyes as I sat there shaking, cold, humiliated and scared.
"Now just lay back, Leslie," the nurse said gently. I looked behind me as I stalled momentarily. The two men gently but firmly lowered me back onto the table. I lay flat on my back and tried to cover my breasts with my arms but they were pinned to the table by the two large attendants. I had to satisfy my modesty by holding my knees together as best I could.
My head was placed into a padded, donut shaped pillow that was secured to the table top by two straps. My body shook and my mouth was dry. The men maneuvered my arms away from my body and held them out to the sides, placing each one on the extensions attached to the table. The nurse came up and placed a blood pressure cuff on one arm as the men started to attach my other arm to its extension, palms up, with the straps that I'd noticed earlier. When the nurse was finished with the cuff on my other arm, it too was strapped down.
I started to cry as my hands were placed in padded rubber mitts designed to keep me from grasping anything that might come within my very limited reach. These mitts were in turn also strapped down, rendering my hands completely useless. I felt as if I were being crucified.
With the pillow slightly elevating my head, I could now see the entire length of my body. The men now turned their attention to my legs and carefully flexed them slightly at the knee as they parted them. I struggled to keep my legs from bending and tried to keep my knees together with all of my strength; but, they knew just where to grasp them and how to use their strength to make them give way and bend. They also knew exactly how to use leverage to part my legs and place them in the strong knee crutches attached to the table.
Shortly, Padded straps were placed around my shins and thighs and secured tightly to hold my legs securely in place in the knee crutches. My eyes were wide as I watched through my tears. My legs, arms and hands were now totally immobile. I was obscenely splayed open in front of these strangers and I was cold and apprehensive. I heard the whirring of a motor and realized that the knee crutches were motorized. They began to move apart and then up and back, slowly tilting my pelvis back and exposing my completely hairless crotch to everyone in the room.
I blushed as the men made their way in and out from between my spread legs and around my body to make sure my restraints were tight. I was now open, vulnerable and totally exposed. Every opening on my body was now in plain sight, subject to complete and immediate access. For the first time in my life, I had no "private" or "secret" spots.
I felt something cool on my un-cuffed arm and I looked over just in time to see the nurse establishing an IV in that arm. She then connected tubing to it and taped the tubing to my arm. I looked up over my head and saw an IV bag hanging there.
"Oh God what are they going to do to me?", I thought as my heart raced even faster. The nurse then went between my legs and pressed a floor pedal that was out of out of my view. The motors in the table whirred to life, spreading my legs even wider; so wide, in fact, that I could feel my vaginal lips starting to gape open and my back flexing just slightly. That's when I noticed three things that only served to further increase my alarm:
First, the nurse had returned and was fitting a mirror on an extension arm attached to the table's accessory rails. The nurse pulled it over to an area about a foot in front of my right shin and then adjusted it carefully so that that I was able to clearly see my wide open crotch. As she finished adjusting the mirror, she looked up at me and said, "there, now you can see what's going on. We don't want you to be apprehensive, do we?"
The second thing that I noticed, between my open legs, were the windows and curtains directly above the entrance to the Procedure Theater, opposite me. I quickly recognized that anyone looking through those windows would have an unobstructed view of me. I wondered what or who was behind those curtained windows. I was also acutely aware that the first thing any late comers entering the Procedure Theatre would see was my indecently exposed genitals.
Finally, I looked up to see my entire body laying stretched out on the table, pink and very naked, in another mirror on the ceiling that I hadn't noticed earlier.
Just as I thought that my humiliation was complete, a videographer burst through the door to the theatre with a camera case in tow to hastily set up his camera. He was to video tape the day's work, which was, apparently, a very thorough exploration of the depths my pelvis.
I was distracted by the rattling of metal on metal at my side. The nurse had returned to attach two additional poles to the table on either side of my hips. They looked like IV poles. When she moved away, I raised my head slightly and wondered what the purpose of the poles might be. My curiosity was soon satisfied. The nurse came back and placed a huge, opaque red rubber bag that was bulging full of some solution on the pole to my left, down by my hips, and another, smaller, clear IV bag on the other pole to my right. Each bag had tubing that she looped around the poles and draped over my body. The big bag had red colored rubber tubing and the clear IV bag had smaller, clear IV tubing.
When she was satisfied with her work, the nurse wheeled a small cart in with some sort of electronic instrument on it and brought it right up to my side. She began attaching the tubes to the machine that came from the cuff around my arm. I heard a series of beeps and the cuff started to tighten. It got tighter and tighter and then slowly deflated. The nurse watched the machine and I watched her. She then turned to me and placed four round adhesive electrodes on my chest and side. These turned out to be EKG leads. She then attached the leads from these electrodes to what I now realized was a monitor, by my side. Once everything was adjusted I heard a steady "Beep.......Beep.....Beep" and I knew that the instrument was monitoring my heart beat along with my blood pressure and, as I later learned, temperature and blood oxygen saturation. Next came the electroencephalogram or EEG leads, placed on my forehead and at various locations on my scalp to monitor my brain wave activity.
The nurse moved the monitor just out my sight line and left for sometime. In the interim, the two attendants returned and moved to each side of the table. One took a strap and threaded it under the wires just above my breasts and handed it to the other man. There was soft padding where the strap crossed my torso. The other man took it to my side and I soon felt it being snugged down against my chest, firmly holding me to the table top. Another padded cinch was placed just under my breasts by one of the attendants who actually had to lift each of my breasts to get the strap under them. I flushed as he touched me in the realization that my nipples were becoming erect, possibly either from the chill in the room or, and I hoped that this wasn't the case, the attention that they we receiving as I was strapped down. This second cinch went taut around my chest. I was alarmed by it's tightness. It pushed my breasts up and out slightly from body. For a moment I thought that I might actually have trouble breathing. Next, the men attached two more restraints and used them to strap down my hips. Each strap was looped up from the table's accessory rails and around each thigh, right at the junction of my hip sockets with my pelvis. These straps not only immobilized my pelvis but, also served as yet another force holding both my legs and my labia open.
The nurse returned. She held a stainless steel bowl with large gauze pads floating in some brown stuff and a pair of forceps. Without hesitation, she grabbed one of the gauze pads with the forceps and took it from the bowl to my left breast and scrubbed it hard. The brown stuff dripped all over my chest. "OOOH" Is all I could say because my mouth was wide open and as dry as pop corn. She did the same with the other breast.
The nurse then repositioned herself between my legs and used another soaked gauze pad to thoroughly scrub the entire area between my legs, including between my labia and around and just inside my vaginal introitus. I felt the cool stuff dripping down over my privates and heard the metallic sound of drops falling into a tray under my gaping vagina. When the nurse was done, she came back with a soaking wet, very cold towel and laid it over my breasts. Goose bumps broke out on my body instantly and I shook uncontrollably with chills and anxiety.
I suddenly was in a highly excited, hyper-vigilant and acute state of awareness. I was seemingly suspended in time and space, listening to the beep's of my own heart beat. The scene in my mind seemed almost surreal. Everyone was silent as I laid there exposed, vulnerable, imagining that whoever might be on the other side of those curtained windows would soon see my body like this. I blushed at the thought of anyone else seeing my shaved sex, splayed open on display.
The nurse then bent down and pulled out some things from under the table. I saw immediately that they were several sets of lead wires with very small clips on their ends. Two of these were sheathed in clear plastic sheathes and marked "STEERILE". She laid them out on my tummy along side of the two tubes from the mysterious bags hung at my hips. She then went around to the other side of the table, bent down again and produced more lead wires and set them out on my lower abdomen. A cart, topped with a blue drape, was then wheeled to the bottom of the table, just to my right side, the contents of which I could not make out clearly.
I heard the door of the Procedure Theater open and then close, followed shortly by Doctor Bower suddenly rolling up between my legs on a wheeled stool. He immediately turned away without even speaking to me, toward the curtained windows and looked up at them as if her were waiting for something to happen.
My heart raced as I realized that what before I had only feared seemed now about to happen. The curtains started to part. As they opened wider, I could see that there where three rows of six seats arranged in tiers, in a gallery above the theatre floor, behind the windows that I'd noticed earlier. The seats had all been taken and I counted 10 men and 8 women gazing down on my fully exposed body from the gallery. Tears rolled down my face as it reddened from embarrassment and I sobbed uncontrollably.
Once the curtains had opened fully, the doctor began to speak, "This is subject THX1134, Leslie Nicole Martin and this is phase 4a of the Spring, 1982, experimental medicine research program. Have the students chosen a proctor for questions during the performance of the first phase of the research protocol on Ms. Martin?"'
I heard a disembodied male voice through what I assumed to be an intercom, apparently located in the gallery above say, "Yes, we have, I'm doctor Hilligoss and we are ready".
"Well then if all are present, let's begin", announced the doctor. I heard the intercom bark to life again, "All present and ready", came the reply.
Doctor Bower continued, "This is the first of a four part, minimally invasive protocol to make a stereotactic map of the neurophysiology of the female pelvis down to a nearly microscopic level while simultaneously studying female sexual response and resultant neural activity. As you know, today's protocol involves assessment by close physical observation mentored by ECG, EEG and electronic monitoring of the patients vitals. The second phase, scheduled for next Friday, will essentially be a repeat of today's protocol but will be performed in our new PET (Positron Emission Tomography) scanning suite. It will involve assessment by PET scanning as well as ECG, EEG and Vitals monitoring. The third phase will also be a repeat but will involve assessment by NMR Imaging (Nuclear Magnetic Resonance Imaging, but now days called Magnetic Resonance Imaging or MRI) as well as routine ECG, EEG and Vitals monitoring. Finally, the fourth and final phase will also be a repeat, with assessment by dye contrast X-ray examination and ultrasound Imaging with routine ECG, EEG and Vitals monitoring." He continued, "Even though you all have the detailed research protocol with you in written form, I'll comment on the procedure as the day unfolds. Please be prepared, however, to follow along."
Then the doctor turned toward me and spoke to his students from between my legs, "I'm placing a sterile, 115 mm by 85 mm Trelat speculum." I felt something cold and metallic being inserted into my vagina. I looked down at the mirror and saw what looked like a pair of steel bills attached to a cog track. As Dr. Bower rotated one of the butterfly thumb wheels on the instrument, the power of mechanical purchase stretched me wide open. So wide, in fact, that I could actually see my cervix in the mirror as he held the speculum in place with one hand and used the other to train a very intense, small light on the end of a goose neck onto my vaginal opening. He then adjusted the other butterfly thumb wheel on the speculum to angle the bills in such a way that the speculum couldn't be expelled from my now gaping vagina. This stretched the walls of my vaginal vault somewhat uncomfortably, something to which I acclimated, however.
Doctor Bower then began swabbing my cervix with disinfectant just as he'd done earlier that morning. When finished, he briefly inspected my now sore cervix with the Sigmans stick still lodged in it and looked up at the nurse and said, "I think she's dilated sufficiently now for the uterine dilators. Hand me the forceps, please, I'm going to remove the Sigmans stick." I didn't like the sound of that. Nonetheless, the doctor reached in through the speculum, grasped the Sigmans stick with the long forceps and removed it. I winced, but the removal was not actually that painful and I was glad to be rid of the dull, relentless pressure exerted by the Sigmans stick.
Next, I saw the nurse wheel up a Mayo tray with a bogey and six Uterine Dilators laid out, neatly, on a blue cloth with the hospitals logo imprinted on its center. Doctor Bower turned to the gallery and explained that he was going to use the bogey, a long, slender stainless steel instrument calibrated in millimeters, to measure the depth of my birth canal from the cervical os or entrance, all the way up to the fundus or top of the uterus. He then turned to me and quietly told me that this would be uncomfortable but only for a moment and then inserted the bogey through the speculum and poised it at my os. He looked up at me and said, "here we go Leslie, just a little pressure" as he guided the instrument up through my birth canal in one firm continuous motion until he sensed resistance when it reached my fundus. I drew in air through my mouth followed by a involuntary, low moan. The pain was similar to menstrual cramps. I winced and instinctively tried to close my legs, but they wouldn't even budge. "Almost done here now, Leslie", said Doctor Bower as he used his sterile and gloved right index finer to mark the spot on the shaft of the bogey where it just entered my os. He withdrew the bogey and noted the depth of my birth canal by reading the graduations on the instrument from its tip to the point on the shaft where his index finger rested. He called out the result for both his students' benefit and for the nurse to record.
"God, I'm glad that's over" I thought, but then I glanced over at the Mayo Tray with the ominous looking Uterine Dilators laid out on it and realized that it wasn't over, it was just starting. I was glad that I had been instructed to take ibuprofen before arriving that morning.
A set of Uterine Dilators is comprised of several long stainless steel rods each of gradually increasing diameters, used to open and dilate the birth canal. Before the doctor inserted the first dilator through the speculum, he paused and said, "Leslie, this is going to be a little unpleasant; but, only for a minute or two. I'm going to dilate your cervix to about one centimeter. I'll be as quick as I can; but, you're going to feel some pretty intense cramping while I'm doing it. Would you like a mild sedative first?"
I thought about this and decided to try it without the sedative. I did, however, ask if I could elect to have the sedative if the procedure became too intense without it, not realizing that it wouldn't last long enough for me to indicate a change of mind. I was, nonetheless, assured that I could. I learned later in the study that taking the sedative, when offered, really wasn't a bad idea. While it wasn't an anesthetic, it did take the edge off of the unpleasant parts while leaving my faculties and memory in tact.
Doctor Bower then inserted a fresh, sterile tenaculum through the speculum and grasped my cervix again and maintained a continuous narrative of the procedure for his students as he did so. This time there was almost no sensation as my cervix was seized by the instrument but I could definitely feel the traction being exerted on the core of my femininity. The doctor then turned to the nurse and was handed the first of six dilators that were laid out on the tray. The doctor said, "OK, here we go, Leslie" and I immediately felt the dilator push past the opening in my cervix and, after some initial resistance, start a fairly rapid ascent up and into my uterus. The cramping began as the dilator was moved in and out and rotated to dilate me. It was then removed and quickly replaced by the next larger size, at which point the process began anew. The cramping grew steadily worse as each succeedingly larger dilator was inserted, maneuvered in and out, rotated and then withdrawn. By the time that the last of the dilators was inserted, I was squirming and crying and was certainly ready for the experience to be over. However, Doctor Bower not only moved this last dilator in and out, as before, but , this time, he also moved it from side to side and around in circles, almost prying my cervix open. The only words that could escape my mouth were, "Oh, Ohhh, OHHHHH, OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" as the nurse stepped forward to place her hand on my left arm to reassure me. After about a minute, it was over.
The nurse opened the door of the examination room and the two men led me out into the hall with my paper gown flapping open behind me. I tried to reach back to hold the gown closed, but the men had my arms firmly pinned to my sides. We made a turn into the hall way toward the door marked "Procedure Theater" as my heart raced. One of the men opened the door while the other, following behind me, gave me a gentle shove to get me moving me through the door way. My eyes popped wide open when I saw what was in the "Procedure Theatre".
There in the middle of the large room was a massive, stainless steel operating table with sturdy knee crutches for my legs, each with three straps hanging from it. There were also stainless steel extensions sticking out from each side of the gleaming table with straps hanging from them, as well. Each side of the table had accessory rails for the extensions and knee crutches that also served as anchor points for more straps, obviously intended for my torso and hips.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as I was led to the foot of the table and helped up onto it. The men sat me down firmly at it's edge. They did not, however, release their tight grasp on my upper arms.
I looked around violently in an attempt to take in everything and make sense of what was about to happen to me. There were bags hanging from poles, instrument tables, equipment on carts and various people working busily. The nurse came over to me and just snatched the paper gown away in one motion. My hands reflexively moved to retrieve it, but the attendants iron grasp on my arms prevented that. I couldn't move my arms or hands at all. The nurse quietly said, "don't worry, honey, you won't need this now." I was now completely naked in front of all these people, most of whom were men. Tears came to my eyes as I sat there shaking, cold, humiliated and scared.
"Now just lay back, Leslie," the nurse said gently. I looked behind me as I stalled momentarily. The two men gently but firmly lowered me back onto the table. I lay flat on my back and tried to cover my breasts with my arms but they were pinned to the table by the two large attendants. I had to satisfy my modesty by holding my knees together as best I could.
My head was placed into a padded, donut shaped pillow that was secured to the table top by two straps. My body shook and my mouth was dry. The men maneuvered my arms away from my body and held them out to the sides, placing each one on the extensions attached to the table. The nurse came up and placed a blood pressure cuff on one arm as the men started to attach my other arm to its extension, palms up, with the straps that I'd noticed earlier. When the nurse was finished with the cuff on my other arm, it too was strapped down.
I started to cry as my hands were placed in padded rubber mitts designed to keep me from grasping anything that might come within my very limited reach. These mitts were in turn also strapped down, rendering my hands completely useless. I felt as if I were being crucified.
With the pillow slightly elevating my head, I could now see the entire length of my body. The men now turned their attention to my legs and carefully flexed them slightly at the knee as they parted them. I struggled to keep my legs from bending and tried to keep my knees together with all of my strength; but, they knew just where to grasp them and how to use their strength to make them give way and bend. They also knew exactly how to use leverage to part my legs and place them in the strong knee crutches attached to the table.
Shortly, Padded straps were placed around my shins and thighs and secured tightly to hold my legs securely in place in the knee crutches. My eyes were wide as I watched through my tears. My legs, arms and hands were now totally immobile. I was obscenely splayed open in front of these strangers and I was cold and apprehensive. I heard the whirring of a motor and realized that the knee crutches were motorized. They began to move apart and then up and back, slowly tilting my pelvis back and exposing my completely hairless crotch to everyone in the room.
I blushed as the men made their way in and out from between my spread legs and around my body to make sure my restraints were tight. I was now open, vulnerable and totally exposed. Every opening on my body was now in plain sight, subject to complete and immediate access. For the first time in my life, I had no "private" or "secret" spots.
I felt something cool on my un-cuffed arm and I looked over just in time to see the nurse establishing an IV in that arm. She then connected tubing to it and taped the tubing to my arm. I looked up over my head and saw an IV bag hanging there.
"Oh God what are they going to do to me?", I thought as my heart raced even faster. The nurse then went between my legs and pressed a floor pedal that was out of out of my view. The motors in the table whirred to life, spreading my legs even wider; so wide, in fact, that I could feel my vaginal lips starting to gape open and my back flexing just slightly. That's when I noticed three things that only served to further increase my alarm:
First, the nurse had returned and was fitting a mirror on an extension arm attached to the table's accessory rails. The nurse pulled it over to an area about a foot in front of my right shin and then adjusted it carefully so that that I was able to clearly see my wide open crotch. As she finished adjusting the mirror, she looked up at me and said, "there, now you can see what's going on. We don't want you to be apprehensive, do we?"
The second thing that I noticed, between my open legs, were the windows and curtains directly above the entrance to the Procedure Theater, opposite me. I quickly recognized that anyone looking through those windows would have an unobstructed view of me. I wondered what or who was behind those curtained windows. I was also acutely aware that the first thing any late comers entering the Procedure Theatre would see was my indecently exposed genitals.
Finally, I looked up to see my entire body laying stretched out on the table, pink and very naked, in another mirror on the ceiling that I hadn't noticed earlier.
Just as I thought that my humiliation was complete, a videographer burst through the door to the theatre with a camera case in tow to hastily set up his camera. He was to video tape the day's work, which was, apparently, a very thorough exploration of the depths my pelvis.
I was distracted by the rattling of metal on metal at my side. The nurse had returned to attach two additional poles to the table on either side of my hips. They looked like IV poles. When she moved away, I raised my head slightly and wondered what the purpose of the poles might be. My curiosity was soon satisfied. The nurse came back and placed a huge, opaque red rubber bag that was bulging full of some solution on the pole to my left, down by my hips, and another, smaller, clear IV bag on the other pole to my right. Each bag had tubing that she looped around the poles and draped over my body. The big bag had red colored rubber tubing and the clear IV bag had smaller, clear IV tubing.
When she was satisfied with her work, the nurse wheeled a small cart in with some sort of electronic instrument on it and brought it right up to my side. She began attaching the tubes to the machine that came from the cuff around my arm. I heard a series of beeps and the cuff started to tighten. It got tighter and tighter and then slowly deflated. The nurse watched the machine and I watched her. She then turned to me and placed four round adhesive electrodes on my chest and side. These turned out to be EKG leads. She then attached the leads from these electrodes to what I now realized was a monitor, by my side. Once everything was adjusted I heard a steady "Beep.......Beep.....Beep" and I knew that the instrument was monitoring my heart beat along with my blood pressure and, as I later learned, temperature and blood oxygen saturation. Next came the electroencephalogram or EEG leads, placed on my forehead and at various locations on my scalp to monitor my brain wave activity.
The nurse moved the monitor just out my sight line and left for sometime. In the interim, the two attendants returned and moved to each side of the table. One took a strap and threaded it under the wires just above my breasts and handed it to the other man. There was soft padding where the strap crossed my torso. The other man took it to my side and I soon felt it being snugged down against my chest, firmly holding me to the table top. Another padded cinch was placed just under my breasts by one of the attendants who actually had to lift each of my breasts to get the strap under them. I flushed as he touched me in the realization that my nipples were becoming erect, possibly either from the chill in the room or, and I hoped that this wasn't the case, the attention that they we receiving as I was strapped down. This second cinch went taut around my chest. I was alarmed by it's tightness. It pushed my breasts up and out slightly from body. For a moment I thought that I might actually have trouble breathing. Next, the men attached two more restraints and used them to strap down my hips. Each strap was looped up from the table's accessory rails and around each thigh, right at the junction of my hip sockets with my pelvis. These straps not only immobilized my pelvis but, also served as yet another force holding both my legs and my labia open.
The nurse returned. She held a stainless steel bowl with large gauze pads floating in some brown stuff and a pair of forceps. Without hesitation, she grabbed one of the gauze pads with the forceps and took it from the bowl to my left breast and scrubbed it hard. The brown stuff dripped all over my chest. "OOOH" Is all I could say because my mouth was wide open and as dry as pop corn. She did the same with the other breast.
The nurse then repositioned herself between my legs and used another soaked gauze pad to thoroughly scrub the entire area between my legs, including between my labia and around and just inside my vaginal introitus. I felt the cool stuff dripping down over my privates and heard the metallic sound of drops falling into a tray under my gaping vagina. When the nurse was done, she came back with a soaking wet, very cold towel and laid it over my breasts. Goose bumps broke out on my body instantly and I shook uncontrollably with chills and anxiety.
I suddenly was in a highly excited, hyper-vigilant and acute state of awareness. I was seemingly suspended in time and space, listening to the beep's of my own heart beat. The scene in my mind seemed almost surreal. Everyone was silent as I laid there exposed, vulnerable, imagining that whoever might be on the other side of those curtained windows would soon see my body like this. I blushed at the thought of anyone else seeing my shaved sex, splayed open on display.
The nurse then bent down and pulled out some things from under the table. I saw immediately that they were several sets of lead wires with very small clips on their ends. Two of these were sheathed in clear plastic sheathes and marked "STEERILE". She laid them out on my tummy along side of the two tubes from the mysterious bags hung at my hips. She then went around to the other side of the table, bent down again and produced more lead wires and set them out on my lower abdomen. A cart, topped with a blue drape, was then wheeled to the bottom of the table, just to my right side, the contents of which I could not make out clearly.
I heard the door of the Procedure Theater open and then close, followed shortly by Doctor Bower suddenly rolling up between my legs on a wheeled stool. He immediately turned away without even speaking to me, toward the curtained windows and looked up at them as if her were waiting for something to happen.
My heart raced as I realized that what before I had only feared seemed now about to happen. The curtains started to part. As they opened wider, I could see that there where three rows of six seats arranged in tiers, in a gallery above the theatre floor, behind the windows that I'd noticed earlier. The seats had all been taken and I counted 10 men and 8 women gazing down on my fully exposed body from the gallery. Tears rolled down my face as it reddened from embarrassment and I sobbed uncontrollably.
Once the curtains had opened fully, the doctor began to speak, "This is subject THX1134, Leslie Nicole Martin and this is phase 4a of the Spring, 1982, experimental medicine research program. Have the students chosen a proctor for questions during the performance of the first phase of the research protocol on Ms. Martin?"'
I heard a disembodied male voice through what I assumed to be an intercom, apparently located in the gallery above say, "Yes, we have, I'm doctor Hilligoss and we are ready".
"Well then if all are present, let's begin", announced the doctor. I heard the intercom bark to life again, "All present and ready", came the reply.
Doctor Bower continued, "This is the first of a four part, minimally invasive protocol to make a stereotactic map of the neurophysiology of the female pelvis down to a nearly microscopic level while simultaneously studying female sexual response and resultant neural activity. As you know, today's protocol involves assessment by close physical observation mentored by ECG, EEG and electronic monitoring of the patients vitals. The second phase, scheduled for next Friday, will essentially be a repeat of today's protocol but will be performed in our new PET (Positron Emission Tomography) scanning suite. It will involve assessment by PET scanning as well as ECG, EEG and Vitals monitoring. The third phase will also be a repeat but will involve assessment by NMR Imaging (Nuclear Magnetic Resonance Imaging, but now days called Magnetic Resonance Imaging or MRI) as well as routine ECG, EEG and Vitals monitoring. Finally, the fourth and final phase will also be a repeat, with assessment by dye contrast X-ray examination and ultrasound Imaging with routine ECG, EEG and Vitals monitoring." He continued, "Even though you all have the detailed research protocol with you in written form, I'll comment on the procedure as the day unfolds. Please be prepared, however, to follow along."
Then the doctor turned toward me and spoke to his students from between my legs, "I'm placing a sterile, 115 mm by 85 mm Trelat speculum." I felt something cold and metallic being inserted into my vagina. I looked down at the mirror and saw what looked like a pair of steel bills attached to a cog track. As Dr. Bower rotated one of the butterfly thumb wheels on the instrument, the power of mechanical purchase stretched me wide open. So wide, in fact, that I could actually see my cervix in the mirror as he held the speculum in place with one hand and used the other to train a very intense, small light on the end of a goose neck onto my vaginal opening. He then adjusted the other butterfly thumb wheel on the speculum to angle the bills in such a way that the speculum couldn't be expelled from my now gaping vagina. This stretched the walls of my vaginal vault somewhat uncomfortably, something to which I acclimated, however.
Doctor Bower then began swabbing my cervix with disinfectant just as he'd done earlier that morning. When finished, he briefly inspected my now sore cervix with the Sigmans stick still lodged in it and looked up at the nurse and said, "I think she's dilated sufficiently now for the uterine dilators. Hand me the forceps, please, I'm going to remove the Sigmans stick." I didn't like the sound of that. Nonetheless, the doctor reached in through the speculum, grasped the Sigmans stick with the long forceps and removed it. I winced, but the removal was not actually that painful and I was glad to be rid of the dull, relentless pressure exerted by the Sigmans stick.
Next, I saw the nurse wheel up a Mayo tray with a bogey and six Uterine Dilators laid out, neatly, on a blue cloth with the hospitals logo imprinted on its center. Doctor Bower turned to the gallery and explained that he was going to use the bogey, a long, slender stainless steel instrument calibrated in millimeters, to measure the depth of my birth canal from the cervical os or entrance, all the way up to the fundus or top of the uterus. He then turned to me and quietly told me that this would be uncomfortable but only for a moment and then inserted the bogey through the speculum and poised it at my os. He looked up at me and said, "here we go Leslie, just a little pressure" as he guided the instrument up through my birth canal in one firm continuous motion until he sensed resistance when it reached my fundus. I drew in air through my mouth followed by a involuntary, low moan. The pain was similar to menstrual cramps. I winced and instinctively tried to close my legs, but they wouldn't even budge. "Almost done here now, Leslie", said Doctor Bower as he used his sterile and gloved right index finer to mark the spot on the shaft of the bogey where it just entered my os. He withdrew the bogey and noted the depth of my birth canal by reading the graduations on the instrument from its tip to the point on the shaft where his index finger rested. He called out the result for both his students' benefit and for the nurse to record.
"God, I'm glad that's over" I thought, but then I glanced over at the Mayo Tray with the ominous looking Uterine Dilators laid out on it and realized that it wasn't over, it was just starting. I was glad that I had been instructed to take ibuprofen before arriving that morning.
A set of Uterine Dilators is comprised of several long stainless steel rods each of gradually increasing diameters, used to open and dilate the birth canal. Before the doctor inserted the first dilator through the speculum, he paused and said, "Leslie, this is going to be a little unpleasant; but, only for a minute or two. I'm going to dilate your cervix to about one centimeter. I'll be as quick as I can; but, you're going to feel some pretty intense cramping while I'm doing it. Would you like a mild sedative first?"
I thought about this and decided to try it without the sedative. I did, however, ask if I could elect to have the sedative if the procedure became too intense without it, not realizing that it wouldn't last long enough for me to indicate a change of mind. I was, nonetheless, assured that I could. I learned later in the study that taking the sedative, when offered, really wasn't a bad idea. While it wasn't an anesthetic, it did take the edge off of the unpleasant parts while leaving my faculties and memory in tact.
Doctor Bower then inserted a fresh, sterile tenaculum through the speculum and grasped my cervix again and maintained a continuous narrative of the procedure for his students as he did so. This time there was almost no sensation as my cervix was seized by the instrument but I could definitely feel the traction being exerted on the core of my femininity. The doctor then turned to the nurse and was handed the first of six dilators that were laid out on the tray. The doctor said, "OK, here we go, Leslie" and I immediately felt the dilator push past the opening in my cervix and, after some initial resistance, start a fairly rapid ascent up and into my uterus. The cramping began as the dilator was moved in and out and rotated to dilate me. It was then removed and quickly replaced by the next larger size, at which point the process began anew. The cramping grew steadily worse as each succeedingly larger dilator was inserted, maneuvered in and out, rotated and then withdrawn. By the time that the last of the dilators was inserted, I was squirming and crying and was certainly ready for the experience to be over. However, Doctor Bower not only moved this last dilator in and out, as before, but , this time, he also moved it from side to side and around in circles, almost prying my cervix open. The only words that could escape my mouth were, "Oh, Ohhh, OHHHHH, OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" as the nurse stepped forward to place her hand on my left arm to reassure me. After about a minute, it was over.
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I looked down and blinked the tears from my eyes after the last dilator was withdrawn from my vagina through the speculum. As my vision cleared I noticed that the dilator was tinged with a rust colored sheen from the mixture of the menstrual blood of my endometrium with the residual lubricant left on the instrument after its journey deep into my birth canal.
The nurse leaned in close to my ear as she continued to pat my arm and praised my stoicism through what she said was often a very rough procedure for some test subjects. As she told me this, Doctor Bower withdrew first the tenaculum and then the speculum from my body. My composure was holding, but just barely. The cramping was almost unbearable. I thought to myself, "next time, I'll take the sedative."
"I will now insert the urethral catheter into her bladder", said the doctor. He donned new sterile gloves and picked up the conductive silicon rubber tube with its metal tip and continued lecturing, "This is essentially a Foley catheter constructed of highly conductive silicon rubber that will transmit an electrical signal through the subject's urethra to the metal electrode at the distil end of the cath. From there the current is conducted into an electrolytic solution that I will be instilling into her bladder, after inflation of the Foley's balloon, through the catheter's lumen. The conductive, electrolytic solution is comprised of sterile water and various sodium and potassium salts to promote ionic conduction."
I watched wide eyed and in near panic as he parted my labia and brought the special Foley catheter, with it's metal tip, down to my urethral meatus. I tried to cry out, but my mouth and throat were so dry that all the came out were little grunts and squeaks. The catheter felt hot as it entered and stretched my pee hole to accommodate it substantial size. I panted and threw my head from side to side, trying to signify "No", but, of course, without avail.
"I will now inflate the balloon to hold the catheter in place", announced the doctor as he attached a small syringe to one of the ports in the catheter and used it to fill the balloon with sterile water. I watched through my tears as I felt the balloon expand inside my bladder and then felt Doctor bower tug it down snug against my urethral sphincter. The doctor then connected the rubber end of the catheter to the smaller, clear IV bag with the clear tubing. My pee hole stung and burned and I panted through my nose as my bladder was filled with 500 cc of cold, sterile conductive fluid.
Next, Dr. Bower announced, "I will now introduce the cervical flange with the experimental, guidable, endoscopic fiber optic uterine probe."
I closed my eyes, gathered my resolve and tried to relax as Dr. Bower inserted the flange. Shortly, I could feel the cold flange poised at my cervical os. As the doctor exerted firm pressure, the cramping in my lower abdomen increased as it lodged in my birth canal.
"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!", was all that I could say as it slid home. The flange was so tight in my cervical opening that it held itself in place with the aid of nothing more that a few annular grooves cut into it's circumference. While the insertion of the flange was painful, it didn't hurt much once in place. It did, however, seem to cause more pressure on the tube within my urethra and increased my cramping, which meant that at that moment, I felt like a woman with a bad case of PMS, with an inflamed urethra who urgently needed to urinate. Almost immediately, Doctor Bower began to advance the tiny, experimental fiber optic probe contained in the flange, deep into my uterus. I saw him glance over to a screen on a near by cart and realized that I was looking at the inside of my uterus. He began to maneuver the guidable optic fiber to carefully examine every aspect of the interior of my uterus. He announced, "Everything looks fine here."
The doctor then described the procedure to his students as he guided the steerable probe into my left fallopian tube and drove it gradually almost all of the way up to my ovary. This was very uncomfortable, but I was in no position to make my discomfort known beyond a few grunts and small, unnoticed movements. I now knew why he had performed the thorough but painful palpation of my ovaries earlier that morning.
Satisfied with what he saw on the screen, Doctor Bower said, "OK, looks good" and retreated from my left fallopian tube back down into my uterus. The pain subsided briefly until he guided the tiny probe carefully into my right fallopian tube. "Here we go again, Leslie" he said, quietly and almost apologetically, to me.
My jaws bore down against the device in my mouth in anticipation of the pain to come and I clenched my fists in their rubber mitts as the probe was gradually, painfully driven up my right fallopian tube almost to my right ovary. Once there, however, he lingered for an excruciating period of time as he carefully assessed something that interested him there. "Just a moment more, Leslie", he said as he lingered. Then the doctor said, "just a little more pressure now, Leslie, try to relax for me" as he advanced further, as if to see if he could actually enter the ovary. I was in agony. When he was finally finished, having satisfied his curiosity, he retreated back down the length of my right fallopian tube, through my uterus and birth canal and pulled the fiber optic probe out of the flange and out through the speculum. He handed the long, thin endoscopic filament to the nurse. I realized that I was on the brink of hysteria and once again found myself fighting to relax and regain my composure.
Without skipping a beat, Doctor Bower continued to lecture, "We will now insert the bi-metallic combination rectal catheter / ground electrode fixture. We will then be able to fill the colon with electrolytic fluid to carry a signal current to her pudendal nervous plexus via her lower intestinal tract." I abruptly realized the purpose of the burning fluid in my bladder and that which would soon be injected into my bowls. I again became apprehensive. "Oh God where they going to electrocute me?", I wondered. "How unpleasant was this going to be?"
The doctor lifted the metal catheter / electrode "fixture" up for the students to see. I also could see it. It was, shinny, smooth, long and very big around. I'd also soon learn that it was cold, as well.
"I will lubricate the subject's anus with my finger as the nurse lubricates the fixture preparatory to placement," said the doctor. I saw them at work between my legs and soon, the doctor's finger entered me, twisted then pulled out. I saw the approach of this new intruder in the mirror above me which was followed shortly by the feeling of the doctor working it deep into my body. Fortunately there was very little discomfort as it slowly disappeared into me, except that I could feel my anus being gradually stretched. For some reason, he then retreted just a bit and then advanced it again with a slow relentless pressure until it was pressed home to the very hilt. I put my head back in an almost tonic reaction to the very strange sensation of the huge thing that now dwelled deep in me.
Seemingly satisfied, the doctor turned to the nurse and asked, ominously, for the temperature probe. She handed the doctor what looked like a semi-flexible, small rubber tube with a small metal tip at on end and a pair of small wires exiting near the opposite end. Doctor Bower immediately turned to explain that an indwelling temperature probe would be used to continuously monitor my temperature during the coming procedure and then, without pause, lubricated the probe and began to slowly insert it into my rectum through a hole in the "fixture that he'd just placed. I could feel the cool metal tip of this invader, slowly snaking very deep into my intestines. As it advanced, the doctor would occasionally withdraw it slightly and occasionally twist and then advance it, as he navigated the depths of my colon. When he was satisfied with the probe's placement, he again turned to the nurse and was handed an empty syringe with no needle, which he used to draw up about 30cc air before attaching it to the end of the tube. He then injected the air into the probe which inflated a small, torus shaped balloon near the tip to prevent expulsion of the temperature probe. Finally, the small wires now hanging out out of the fixture in my bottom were connected to the monitor where my core body temperature was displayed.
"As her bladder fills, we can apply the electrodes to Ms. Martin's clitoris and nipples that will carry the signal current to these highly sensitive areas ," Dr. Bower said, in a "matter of fact" tone of voice. I was panting hard as the beeps on the monitor reflected the increase in my heart rate. I watched in the overhead mirror as the doctor connected the tubing from the big bag to a port on the thing in my butt. He reached up and opened a tubing clamp and then opened the clamp on the other bag to gbegin filling my bladder, as well. My body reacted as both my bladder and my bowls started to fill slowly conductive fluid. I could feel cool liquid washing into my bladder along with a chilly liquid gushing up into my bowels, simultaneously.
As I calmed down and took all of this in, Dr. Bower found my clitoris and, as I watched with some apprehension, retracted the prepuce with a small stainless steel instrument by surrounding it with the almond shaped hole in its tip and exerting downward pressure. My hood was pulled completely back to reveal the bud of my clitoris. He then used the index finger of his other hand to roll the glans of my clitoris around for a moment or two, gently pummeling it. The sensation was highly arousing and I closed my eyes and took the opportunity to enjoy it even though I sensed that Doctor Bower might be aware of what I was doing. After a while, the doctor put the retractor aside and took my clitoris between his thumb and index finger and manipulated it roughly until it was turgid, swollen and almost painfully erect. I was also fully aroused.
He then retrieved one of the wire leads left by the nurse on my lower abdomen. As he manually retracted my hood, he encircled my erect clitoris with the jaws of the clip. When he closed the jaws of the clamp, there was a sudden shot of pain from my clitoris. I tried to cry out; but I couldn't. For a moment I struggled; but, I quickly came to realize that clamping my clitoris in this way, even thought it hurt, also, somehow, felt good and suddenly exciting. In this realization, I began to calm down and even, in some strange way, to enjoy what was happening to me.
The doctor also connected one of the "STERILE" leads that I'd noticed earlier being laid out on my abdomen to another lead from the flange in my cervix that I hadn't noticed, but which had been left dangling from my vaginal introitus when he removed the speculum. The other sterile lead that I'd noticed on my abdomen earlier was attached to the conductive silicon rubber tube of the special, indwelling Foley, now invading in my bladder. Finally, a ground lead was attached to the "fixture" in my rectum.
This seemed to be the nurse's cue to move in to lift the cold towel from my breasts. As she did so, I was embarrassed to see that my nipples were now fully erect due to the cold. I immeditely came to appreciate that this must actually have been the purpose behind the use of the cold, wet towel. Dr. Bower took one clip and brought it to my left breast. I could feel my nipple "perk up" and become hard and distended in anticipation of what was to follow. To my embarrassment, I noticed that it was almost an inch long in this distended state and that the dark colored flesh of the areola surrounding it was puffy and bumpy with goose flesh. Suddenly, the doctor captured my erect nipple with the jaws of the clamp and it abruptly took tenacious hold of my soft flesh. I shook my head "NO" now as he prepared to repeat this procedure on my other breast. I tried to say "please" as he menaced the nipple of my other breast with the second clamp; but, my muffled cries were ignored.
Finally, the nurse handed the doctor a adhesive EKG pad. This electrode was placed just above my "pundendal cleft" in the area above my clitoris. It was now clear to me why the nurse had shaved my pubic area: without depilating this area the adhesive electrode couldn't have been placed in this area. Now wires hung from each breast, as well as from my mons, my clitoris, my gaping vagina and my tightly plugged rectum.
I took some deep breaths and concentrated on keeping myself together as my abdomen cramped and my belly started to protrude from the voluminous filling that I was enduring. In the mirror, between my legs, I could see the head of my little clit sticking out of the clamp.
"Her bladder has been drained completely and filled with five hundred cc's of fluid . . . her bladder will have to be drained every two hours and refilled as her body makes urine. Her colon will hold four quarts of fluid for the duration of today's experiment", Doctor Bower said for the edification of his students. He sat back down between my legs and I moaned almost imperceptibly as my bowels and bladder finished filling with fluid and the skin covering my abdomen became taught and distended. Soon I could no longer see my vagina in the mirror because my huge belly blocked the view. I looked and felt gravid.
Once finished with this work, Dr. Bower announced that , "the electrodes have now been placed and the leads have been attached to the programmable electro-stimulation generator. Having conclusively ruled out both normal and ectopic pregnancy through experimental endoscopic examination of Ms. Martin's uterus and fallopian tubes, we are now ready to commence stimulation and to record data . . . please lift the head of the table to a forty five degree angle, nurse."
I continued to moan almost silently as I felt the table starting to lift me up into a semi sitting position. As the table tilted forward I could feel the fluid inside my distended abdomen shift down, low in my pelvis. I also now found myself facing everyone in the room as they watched my naked body rise up. I could see each and every pair of eyes staring at me intently as the table stopped with a slight jerk and, to my horror, I realized that they could now, for the first time, also, clearly see my face.
The nurse came over and swabbed my open mouth again with the foul tasting stuff that I later found out was a topical anesthetic designed to numb my mouth and tongue so that I couldn't speak during the more uncomfortable parts of the day's experiments. I was also to learn after completion of the project that the metal mouth gag's purpose was to hold my jaws open to provide access to my air way in case of emergency and to hold my tongue down and our of my airway in case I lost consciousness.
Doctor Bower stepped over to the "programmable electro-stimulation generator" and prepared to excite the most sensitive and intimate parts of my body. He began by making adjustments and settings. Shortly, he spoke, "Ready to begin initial stimulation, 5...4...3...2....1....Mark," said the doctor.
I heard a clicking of some switches and I instantaneously perceived a very slight tingling both on my genitals and deep inside my body. A crawling, prickly sensation excited each breast, seeming to move around my areola in a non-descript pattern and out to the tips of my nipples.
My bladder seemed to come alive. I was suddenly aware of its presence in a not entirely unpleasant way.
My vagina and rectum throbbed and I could actually feel the muscles around my rectum trying to pump the rectal electrode in and out of me.
Throughout my whole pelvis, I was aware of a pleasant thrilling sensation that seemed to move about deep inside of me.
On and all around my genitals, I sensed a galvanic flutter like butterfly wings.
My toes curled involuntarily, my abdominal muscles tightend and I had a strong urge to bear down. My body began to writhe and squirm against the straps. I made a determined effort to breath through my nose as I fought an almost irresistible urge to pant and I could hear my heart rate increasing on the monitor beside the table.
The tingling started to get stronger and move about more rapidly. I was soon feeling very, very aroused, but still uncomfortable. My eyes widened as I tried to feel and make sense of what was happening to me. The tingling got progressively stronger. I began to have little pre-orgasmic tremors. The nurse, who was standing by the table, noting my reactions, leaned in to whisper to me, "it's alright, Leslie, you're supposed to orgasm, relax and let yourself go. . . let go honey". I closed my eyes tightly and as I did, I almost immediately had a hard orgasm. Every muscle in my body tightened convulsively. I couldn't help but emit a guttural growl of pleasure as wave after wave of nearly indescribable ecstasy swept over and through my body. I suddenly had a funny thought that made me giggle out loud even as I climaxed, "if this is foreplay, I'm a dead woman."
My head lifted off the pillow and my body strained against my restraints. My hands clenched inside the rubber mitts.
The orgasm peaked and then pain shot through me as the strong current continued briefly. Then, the stimulation stopped.
As I relaxed and panted, despite my efforts to conceal the sound of my heavy breathing, I noticed that everyone had left the room. For the time being, I just laid my head back and panted through my open mouth. I felt spent, sleepy and, GOOD.
In my almost delirious state, I fancied that I had been left alone out of some sort of weird respect for my privacy as I enjoyed an intimate moment with myself. Later I realized that the stimulation apparatus had been programmed to run automatically, according to a prescribed protocol, as computers recorded all of the pertinent empirical data from the test. Screens, mounted on the walls of the gallery, displayed all vital information available from the instruments and monitors on the floor of the Procedure theatre as well as the feed from the video camera that had been set up about ten feet away and slightly off axis from my immodestly displayed genitalia to record the experiment. This all meant that the Theatre staff was free to retire to the Gallery to observe, take notes and discuss the experiment with their eager students and research assistants as it unfolded. Even Doctor Bower had retired to the Gallery to work up some preliminary notes on his physical observations thus far.
After a few minutes respite, I heard a tone emitted from the stimulation generator. A gentle, pulsing current that was somewhat different from the one that I had just experienced, welled up within my body again. My head rose and I looked around as I experienced pleasant little pre-orgasmic mini-tremors that gently shook my body. My head bobbed convulsively as the pulses hit my private parts and traveled to the depths of my femininity. These little tremors ebbed and flowed, over and over again, in succession. I couldn't concentrate on anything but the intense pleasure. The little shocks hitting the very center of my fertile core were reducing me to a quivering mass of jelly. I realized that, despite just experiencing the orgasm of my young life, I was still quite able to become aroused again and in very short order. This was something that I'd never been able to do with Ken, my boy friend.
In a matter of a just another few seconds I began experiencing the first of two mind bending orgasms. Although these orgasms came in rapid succession, each one seemed to build and last forever before climaxing and subsiding. When the second orgasm occurred, I was already so spent that I wasn't sure that I could physically take another orgasm. After about a minute, as the intensity of my second orgasm was building to a crescendo, I realized that the sensation was actually becoming a little unpleasant even as I had yet another explosive orgasm. Then the pulsing stopped and my head fell to the pillow.
The nurse leaned in close to my ear as she continued to pat my arm and praised my stoicism through what she said was often a very rough procedure for some test subjects. As she told me this, Doctor Bower withdrew first the tenaculum and then the speculum from my body. My composure was holding, but just barely. The cramping was almost unbearable. I thought to myself, "next time, I'll take the sedative."
"I will now insert the urethral catheter into her bladder", said the doctor. He donned new sterile gloves and picked up the conductive silicon rubber tube with its metal tip and continued lecturing, "This is essentially a Foley catheter constructed of highly conductive silicon rubber that will transmit an electrical signal through the subject's urethra to the metal electrode at the distil end of the cath. From there the current is conducted into an electrolytic solution that I will be instilling into her bladder, after inflation of the Foley's balloon, through the catheter's lumen. The conductive, electrolytic solution is comprised of sterile water and various sodium and potassium salts to promote ionic conduction."
I watched wide eyed and in near panic as he parted my labia and brought the special Foley catheter, with it's metal tip, down to my urethral meatus. I tried to cry out, but my mouth and throat were so dry that all the came out were little grunts and squeaks. The catheter felt hot as it entered and stretched my pee hole to accommodate it substantial size. I panted and threw my head from side to side, trying to signify "No", but, of course, without avail.
"I will now inflate the balloon to hold the catheter in place", announced the doctor as he attached a small syringe to one of the ports in the catheter and used it to fill the balloon with sterile water. I watched through my tears as I felt the balloon expand inside my bladder and then felt Doctor bower tug it down snug against my urethral sphincter. The doctor then connected the rubber end of the catheter to the smaller, clear IV bag with the clear tubing. My pee hole stung and burned and I panted through my nose as my bladder was filled with 500 cc of cold, sterile conductive fluid.
Next, Dr. Bower announced, "I will now introduce the cervical flange with the experimental, guidable, endoscopic fiber optic uterine probe."
I closed my eyes, gathered my resolve and tried to relax as Dr. Bower inserted the flange. Shortly, I could feel the cold flange poised at my cervical os. As the doctor exerted firm pressure, the cramping in my lower abdomen increased as it lodged in my birth canal.
"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!", was all that I could say as it slid home. The flange was so tight in my cervical opening that it held itself in place with the aid of nothing more that a few annular grooves cut into it's circumference. While the insertion of the flange was painful, it didn't hurt much once in place. It did, however, seem to cause more pressure on the tube within my urethra and increased my cramping, which meant that at that moment, I felt like a woman with a bad case of PMS, with an inflamed urethra who urgently needed to urinate. Almost immediately, Doctor Bower began to advance the tiny, experimental fiber optic probe contained in the flange, deep into my uterus. I saw him glance over to a screen on a near by cart and realized that I was looking at the inside of my uterus. He began to maneuver the guidable optic fiber to carefully examine every aspect of the interior of my uterus. He announced, "Everything looks fine here."
The doctor then described the procedure to his students as he guided the steerable probe into my left fallopian tube and drove it gradually almost all of the way up to my ovary. This was very uncomfortable, but I was in no position to make my discomfort known beyond a few grunts and small, unnoticed movements. I now knew why he had performed the thorough but painful palpation of my ovaries earlier that morning.
Satisfied with what he saw on the screen, Doctor Bower said, "OK, looks good" and retreated from my left fallopian tube back down into my uterus. The pain subsided briefly until he guided the tiny probe carefully into my right fallopian tube. "Here we go again, Leslie" he said, quietly and almost apologetically, to me.
My jaws bore down against the device in my mouth in anticipation of the pain to come and I clenched my fists in their rubber mitts as the probe was gradually, painfully driven up my right fallopian tube almost to my right ovary. Once there, however, he lingered for an excruciating period of time as he carefully assessed something that interested him there. "Just a moment more, Leslie", he said as he lingered. Then the doctor said, "just a little more pressure now, Leslie, try to relax for me" as he advanced further, as if to see if he could actually enter the ovary. I was in agony. When he was finally finished, having satisfied his curiosity, he retreated back down the length of my right fallopian tube, through my uterus and birth canal and pulled the fiber optic probe out of the flange and out through the speculum. He handed the long, thin endoscopic filament to the nurse. I realized that I was on the brink of hysteria and once again found myself fighting to relax and regain my composure.
Without skipping a beat, Doctor Bower continued to lecture, "We will now insert the bi-metallic combination rectal catheter / ground electrode fixture. We will then be able to fill the colon with electrolytic fluid to carry a signal current to her pudendal nervous plexus via her lower intestinal tract." I abruptly realized the purpose of the burning fluid in my bladder and that which would soon be injected into my bowls. I again became apprehensive. "Oh God where they going to electrocute me?", I wondered. "How unpleasant was this going to be?"
The doctor lifted the metal catheter / electrode "fixture" up for the students to see. I also could see it. It was, shinny, smooth, long and very big around. I'd also soon learn that it was cold, as well.
"I will lubricate the subject's anus with my finger as the nurse lubricates the fixture preparatory to placement," said the doctor. I saw them at work between my legs and soon, the doctor's finger entered me, twisted then pulled out. I saw the approach of this new intruder in the mirror above me which was followed shortly by the feeling of the doctor working it deep into my body. Fortunately there was very little discomfort as it slowly disappeared into me, except that I could feel my anus being gradually stretched. For some reason, he then retreted just a bit and then advanced it again with a slow relentless pressure until it was pressed home to the very hilt. I put my head back in an almost tonic reaction to the very strange sensation of the huge thing that now dwelled deep in me.
Seemingly satisfied, the doctor turned to the nurse and asked, ominously, for the temperature probe. She handed the doctor what looked like a semi-flexible, small rubber tube with a small metal tip at on end and a pair of small wires exiting near the opposite end. Doctor Bower immediately turned to explain that an indwelling temperature probe would be used to continuously monitor my temperature during the coming procedure and then, without pause, lubricated the probe and began to slowly insert it into my rectum through a hole in the "fixture that he'd just placed. I could feel the cool metal tip of this invader, slowly snaking very deep into my intestines. As it advanced, the doctor would occasionally withdraw it slightly and occasionally twist and then advance it, as he navigated the depths of my colon. When he was satisfied with the probe's placement, he again turned to the nurse and was handed an empty syringe with no needle, which he used to draw up about 30cc air before attaching it to the end of the tube. He then injected the air into the probe which inflated a small, torus shaped balloon near the tip to prevent expulsion of the temperature probe. Finally, the small wires now hanging out out of the fixture in my bottom were connected to the monitor where my core body temperature was displayed.
"As her bladder fills, we can apply the electrodes to Ms. Martin's clitoris and nipples that will carry the signal current to these highly sensitive areas ," Dr. Bower said, in a "matter of fact" tone of voice. I was panting hard as the beeps on the monitor reflected the increase in my heart rate. I watched in the overhead mirror as the doctor connected the tubing from the big bag to a port on the thing in my butt. He reached up and opened a tubing clamp and then opened the clamp on the other bag to gbegin filling my bladder, as well. My body reacted as both my bladder and my bowls started to fill slowly conductive fluid. I could feel cool liquid washing into my bladder along with a chilly liquid gushing up into my bowels, simultaneously.
As I calmed down and took all of this in, Dr. Bower found my clitoris and, as I watched with some apprehension, retracted the prepuce with a small stainless steel instrument by surrounding it with the almond shaped hole in its tip and exerting downward pressure. My hood was pulled completely back to reveal the bud of my clitoris. He then used the index finger of his other hand to roll the glans of my clitoris around for a moment or two, gently pummeling it. The sensation was highly arousing and I closed my eyes and took the opportunity to enjoy it even though I sensed that Doctor Bower might be aware of what I was doing. After a while, the doctor put the retractor aside and took my clitoris between his thumb and index finger and manipulated it roughly until it was turgid, swollen and almost painfully erect. I was also fully aroused.
He then retrieved one of the wire leads left by the nurse on my lower abdomen. As he manually retracted my hood, he encircled my erect clitoris with the jaws of the clip. When he closed the jaws of the clamp, there was a sudden shot of pain from my clitoris. I tried to cry out; but I couldn't. For a moment I struggled; but, I quickly came to realize that clamping my clitoris in this way, even thought it hurt, also, somehow, felt good and suddenly exciting. In this realization, I began to calm down and even, in some strange way, to enjoy what was happening to me.
The doctor also connected one of the "STERILE" leads that I'd noticed earlier being laid out on my abdomen to another lead from the flange in my cervix that I hadn't noticed, but which had been left dangling from my vaginal introitus when he removed the speculum. The other sterile lead that I'd noticed on my abdomen earlier was attached to the conductive silicon rubber tube of the special, indwelling Foley, now invading in my bladder. Finally, a ground lead was attached to the "fixture" in my rectum.
This seemed to be the nurse's cue to move in to lift the cold towel from my breasts. As she did so, I was embarrassed to see that my nipples were now fully erect due to the cold. I immeditely came to appreciate that this must actually have been the purpose behind the use of the cold, wet towel. Dr. Bower took one clip and brought it to my left breast. I could feel my nipple "perk up" and become hard and distended in anticipation of what was to follow. To my embarrassment, I noticed that it was almost an inch long in this distended state and that the dark colored flesh of the areola surrounding it was puffy and bumpy with goose flesh. Suddenly, the doctor captured my erect nipple with the jaws of the clamp and it abruptly took tenacious hold of my soft flesh. I shook my head "NO" now as he prepared to repeat this procedure on my other breast. I tried to say "please" as he menaced the nipple of my other breast with the second clamp; but, my muffled cries were ignored.
Finally, the nurse handed the doctor a adhesive EKG pad. This electrode was placed just above my "pundendal cleft" in the area above my clitoris. It was now clear to me why the nurse had shaved my pubic area: without depilating this area the adhesive electrode couldn't have been placed in this area. Now wires hung from each breast, as well as from my mons, my clitoris, my gaping vagina and my tightly plugged rectum.
I took some deep breaths and concentrated on keeping myself together as my abdomen cramped and my belly started to protrude from the voluminous filling that I was enduring. In the mirror, between my legs, I could see the head of my little clit sticking out of the clamp.
"Her bladder has been drained completely and filled with five hundred cc's of fluid . . . her bladder will have to be drained every two hours and refilled as her body makes urine. Her colon will hold four quarts of fluid for the duration of today's experiment", Doctor Bower said for the edification of his students. He sat back down between my legs and I moaned almost imperceptibly as my bowels and bladder finished filling with fluid and the skin covering my abdomen became taught and distended. Soon I could no longer see my vagina in the mirror because my huge belly blocked the view. I looked and felt gravid.
Once finished with this work, Dr. Bower announced that , "the electrodes have now been placed and the leads have been attached to the programmable electro-stimulation generator. Having conclusively ruled out both normal and ectopic pregnancy through experimental endoscopic examination of Ms. Martin's uterus and fallopian tubes, we are now ready to commence stimulation and to record data . . . please lift the head of the table to a forty five degree angle, nurse."
I continued to moan almost silently as I felt the table starting to lift me up into a semi sitting position. As the table tilted forward I could feel the fluid inside my distended abdomen shift down, low in my pelvis. I also now found myself facing everyone in the room as they watched my naked body rise up. I could see each and every pair of eyes staring at me intently as the table stopped with a slight jerk and, to my horror, I realized that they could now, for the first time, also, clearly see my face.
The nurse came over and swabbed my open mouth again with the foul tasting stuff that I later found out was a topical anesthetic designed to numb my mouth and tongue so that I couldn't speak during the more uncomfortable parts of the day's experiments. I was also to learn after completion of the project that the metal mouth gag's purpose was to hold my jaws open to provide access to my air way in case of emergency and to hold my tongue down and our of my airway in case I lost consciousness.
Doctor Bower stepped over to the "programmable electro-stimulation generator" and prepared to excite the most sensitive and intimate parts of my body. He began by making adjustments and settings. Shortly, he spoke, "Ready to begin initial stimulation, 5...4...3...2....1....Mark," said the doctor.
I heard a clicking of some switches and I instantaneously perceived a very slight tingling both on my genitals and deep inside my body. A crawling, prickly sensation excited each breast, seeming to move around my areola in a non-descript pattern and out to the tips of my nipples.
My bladder seemed to come alive. I was suddenly aware of its presence in a not entirely unpleasant way.
My vagina and rectum throbbed and I could actually feel the muscles around my rectum trying to pump the rectal electrode in and out of me.
Throughout my whole pelvis, I was aware of a pleasant thrilling sensation that seemed to move about deep inside of me.
On and all around my genitals, I sensed a galvanic flutter like butterfly wings.
My toes curled involuntarily, my abdominal muscles tightend and I had a strong urge to bear down. My body began to writhe and squirm against the straps. I made a determined effort to breath through my nose as I fought an almost irresistible urge to pant and I could hear my heart rate increasing on the monitor beside the table.
The tingling started to get stronger and move about more rapidly. I was soon feeling very, very aroused, but still uncomfortable. My eyes widened as I tried to feel and make sense of what was happening to me. The tingling got progressively stronger. I began to have little pre-orgasmic tremors. The nurse, who was standing by the table, noting my reactions, leaned in to whisper to me, "it's alright, Leslie, you're supposed to orgasm, relax and let yourself go. . . let go honey". I closed my eyes tightly and as I did, I almost immediately had a hard orgasm. Every muscle in my body tightened convulsively. I couldn't help but emit a guttural growl of pleasure as wave after wave of nearly indescribable ecstasy swept over and through my body. I suddenly had a funny thought that made me giggle out loud even as I climaxed, "if this is foreplay, I'm a dead woman."
My head lifted off the pillow and my body strained against my restraints. My hands clenched inside the rubber mitts.
The orgasm peaked and then pain shot through me as the strong current continued briefly. Then, the stimulation stopped.
As I relaxed and panted, despite my efforts to conceal the sound of my heavy breathing, I noticed that everyone had left the room. For the time being, I just laid my head back and panted through my open mouth. I felt spent, sleepy and, GOOD.
In my almost delirious state, I fancied that I had been left alone out of some sort of weird respect for my privacy as I enjoyed an intimate moment with myself. Later I realized that the stimulation apparatus had been programmed to run automatically, according to a prescribed protocol, as computers recorded all of the pertinent empirical data from the test. Screens, mounted on the walls of the gallery, displayed all vital information available from the instruments and monitors on the floor of the Procedure theatre as well as the feed from the video camera that had been set up about ten feet away and slightly off axis from my immodestly displayed genitalia to record the experiment. This all meant that the Theatre staff was free to retire to the Gallery to observe, take notes and discuss the experiment with their eager students and research assistants as it unfolded. Even Doctor Bower had retired to the Gallery to work up some preliminary notes on his physical observations thus far.
After a few minutes respite, I heard a tone emitted from the stimulation generator. A gentle, pulsing current that was somewhat different from the one that I had just experienced, welled up within my body again. My head rose and I looked around as I experienced pleasant little pre-orgasmic mini-tremors that gently shook my body. My head bobbed convulsively as the pulses hit my private parts and traveled to the depths of my femininity. These little tremors ebbed and flowed, over and over again, in succession. I couldn't concentrate on anything but the intense pleasure. The little shocks hitting the very center of my fertile core were reducing me to a quivering mass of jelly. I realized that, despite just experiencing the orgasm of my young life, I was still quite able to become aroused again and in very short order. This was something that I'd never been able to do with Ken, my boy friend.
In a matter of a just another few seconds I began experiencing the first of two mind bending orgasms. Although these orgasms came in rapid succession, each one seemed to build and last forever before climaxing and subsiding. When the second orgasm occurred, I was already so spent that I wasn't sure that I could physically take another orgasm. After about a minute, as the intensity of my second orgasm was building to a crescendo, I realized that the sensation was actually becoming a little unpleasant even as I had yet another explosive orgasm. Then the pulsing stopped and my head fell to the pillow.
Mink's SIGNATURE
OP
Elite Leader
LEVEL 5
165 XP
"Oh God," I tried to say through my open mouth as I looked at myself in the mirror. I could see my nipples were standing straight up and I could feel the muscles in my pelvis shake and quiver. I thought, "Jesus, they're making me orgasm right here in front of everyone and I can't control it." I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look at the students and staff who were watching me climax repeatedly with such cold scientific interest.
After a considerably longer pause than before, the stimulator beeped and the tingling started again. I moaned as it increased and I began struggling against my restraints. I was afraid that the next orgasm would carry me over the fine line between bliss and agony. The sensation built in intensity relentlessly. As I neared climax, again, I became anxious. My head came up and I looked straight down between my legs at my intent audience as another orgasm slammed over my body like pounding surf and ebbed away slowly like the tide; but, before it did, I observed something that amazed me even in the throws of my rapture. It was a stream of clear liquid, rhythmically gushing from the general area of my vagina. From where, exactly, I couldn't be certain at the time. I also noticed that it was landing on a strategically placed absorbent pad on the floor that had obviously been left behind precisely for this purpose.
My first thought was that this was urine; but I quickly reasoned that this wasn't possible with the Foley lodged tightly in my urethra. Although up until that day, I had never known that a woman could ejaculate, my experiences that morning quickly proved that they do.
Upon reading up on the subject over the week that followed my first visit to the teaching hospital, I learned that my ejaculate was made by peri-urethral glands and that it emanated from my "paraurethral ducts" just below my urethra.
My thoughts were interrupted by yet another beep from the stimulation generator. Apparently, more time than I had realized had elapsed while I mulled over what I later learned to be my ejaculatory response.
My excitement grew quickly as the little tremors returned to my body and I prepared myself for another climax. I began to quake and shiver as the orgasm built rapidly. Soon, I sensed that orgasm was imminent. My body was hammered by another violent climax that lingered as it got harder and harder and harder until I literally felt pummeled by it. After perhaps a full minute, it peaked and subsided. Pain shot through me once again until, just a second later, the stimulation stopped.
My head fell back and I took one deep breath before hearing the beep and the stimulation started anew. I instantly had those now familiar little tremors again. I became extremely apprehensive. I didn't think I could take much more of this. The term, "shattering orgasm" came to mind as I once again had a thought that nearly made me laugh out loud: my initial impression was correct. This was a strange form of bionic foreplay and now, if this continued much longer, I felt sure that I'd be a dead woman.
My head bobbed uncontrollably as the pulses built toward yet another climax that actually made me see stars as it arrived in a blinding flash.
Then the stimulation stopped, again. The twitching of my tits and hips were becoming painfully intense. My muscles felt like putty after working convulsively in the throws of one towering orgasm after another.
The current stopped for about 15 minutes, apparently so that I could again regain my composure. I relaxed and drifted.
After this respite, I again heard the beep signaling the start of another orgasmogenic cycle and felt the familiar tingling welling up inside me and crawling along the surface of my genitals. Tears of both joy and anguish rolled down my cheeks as I looked up at the people watching me "cum", over and over, again. I took some deep breaths and tried to prepare. My tears flowed even more profusely as the potent tingling increased. I was soon in full orgasm. My belly tightened around the huge load of fluid that filled my bladder and rectum. The uncontrollable orgasm shot from my genitals out to the tips of every extremity. I could now literally sense the intense orgasm out at the tips of my fingers and toes! My flesh seemed to shudder and undulate as strong sensations reverberated throughout my entire body. The term "flesh quake" came to mind. I was cumming --- again.
Then, mercifully, the stimulation stopped. However, this time, the beep, followed by the pulses and tiny tremors almost immediately followed. I was certain that I couldn't take these staccato orgasms, one after another like this. I could hear myself squeaking like a mouse as the mini tremors swept through my body. I was drenched in sweat, my hair was matted and my muscles ached form their nearly constant spasms. Then, my back arched and I once again strained against my bonds as I reached one climax after another.
Soon, nothing came out of my very dry and wide open mouth except little grunts, groans and squeaks. The orgasmogenic cycle repeated periodically and continuously as morning turned into afternoon. I almost lost track of time. In the periods between stimulation, I sunk into a deeply introspective reverie in which I imagined my body floating through a dark and infinite void. I began to contemplate the complex and even profound sensations that I was experiencing. Periodically, I was snatched back to a hyper-orgasmic reality, after which I'd return to my private reverie.
After a while, in one of the silent interludes, I imagined my body washed in an infinite, warm and inviting ocean. These interludes were now becoming my main focus. The prominence of the orgasms diminished to mere punctuation. My thoughts turned to the sexual norms that had been instilled in me by my parents and, ultimately, even to the societal norms enforced by our peers, priests and authorities. I thought about my attitudes toward sex, love, pleasure and responsibility.
At length, during another respite from the relentless orgasmic onslaughts that punctuated my languour, the doors to the Procedure Theatre seemed to burst open and people rushed into the room. As I focused my attention and tried to make sense of what was happening, gradually, I understood that the entire Procedure Room staff was returning.
The doctor took his seat. I made eye contact with him through red, dried tear encrusted eyes as he sat between my aching legs. As his eyes met mine, the doctor announced, "I will now drain the subject's bladder and re-instill another 500 cc of conductive fluid." I felt the thing in my pee hole being manipulated and heard the fluid from my poor tortured bladder flowing into the stainless steel pan under me.
The nurse arrived with a fresh bag of electrolyte for my imminent bladder infusion. She also hung a fresh saline IV and swabbed my mouth with the foul stuff again. As she did so she whispered into my ear, "Don't worry Leslie, you can take this. We're carefully monitoring your vitals. You're doing just fine. I know that your tired. Hang in there for us. Are you going to be alright, honey?" I nodded my head slightly.
The doctor adjusted the tubing from the freshly hung bag of electrolytic fluid and connected it to what he then referred to as my "urethral fixture" meaning, my special Foley catheter. He then immediately reached up and opened the clamp on the tubing. Cool fluid drained into my now empty and enervated bladder. The doctor stood and placed a cuff, similar to the cuff on my arm, around the small IV bag containing the electrolytic fluid. I wondered what its purpose could be. He reached for the inflation bulb hanging from the cuff and began to rapidly pump. As the cuff expanded it squeezed the IV bag and I could feel a forceful gush of the cool solution cascade into my bladder like a cold tidal wave washing through my lower pelvis. He continued to pump the bulb until the bag was once again empty and then turned to the gallery.
"Ms. Martin has now completed two hours of the four hour regimen scheduled for today," said Dr. Bower. I groaned at the prospect of another two hours of orgasmic assault, as he spoke.
The nurse now stood by to operate the stimulation generator. "We will commence stimulation again on my mark.....5...4...3....2...1... mark", said the doctor. I shook my head and tried to indicate that I'd had enough. I looked into the doctors eyes pleadingly as the tingling started once again to reverberate through my pelvis and radiate out through the rest of my body. "Oh," I thought, "I won't be able to do this for another two hours!" My body started to tighten with the increasing sensations coursing through me. My chin dug into my chest as my next orgasm neared. Then, I threw my head back, only to have it rise slightly off the pillow again in a convulsion of simultaneous bliss and agony that made my body dance to the stimulation generator's tune in orgasmic spasms.
So that's how it went....My bladder had been drained and refilled. One or more orgasms started every 3 to 17 minutes for the next two hours as I once again drifted into a dreamy reverie, punctuated by orgasmic frenzy. The doctors, nurses, students and research assistants, all strangers, witnessed my most private act, again and again and again, right in front of them, but they would never share my private thoughts. As they tended to their data and instruments, recording the details of my sexual titillation, I thought in turn about sex, pain, pleasure, inhibition and then finally came to something that surprised me: exhibitionism.
I realized now that I WAS enjoying this. And I wasn't just enjoying the multi-orgasmic pleasure. I was enjoying and, in fact, was even aroused by, the keen interest in me and my body. I also was coming to appreciate the subtle and delicious intersection of pleasure and pain. I was also beginning to comprehend that my feelings of humiliation that day had been both unwarranted and unnecessary. I decided that I was proud of my body, proud of how tough it was, proud of what it could do and proud of the contribution that I was making to the program.
Nonetheless, I was happy when Doctor Bower returned and announced that I had completed the first day of the four day study. As the gallery full of students above us emptied out, he personally thanked me for my participation and told me that the data that that had been generated that day would contribute to a body of knowledge that would radically improve society's understanding of the underlying neurophysiology of the human sexual response. He also told me that I was a "trooper" and a particularly good subject. I found myself basking in his praise.
Doctor Bower stayed behind that day to personally assist in my "after care". He gently removed the "fixtures", clamps, wires, pads and instruments from my body, personally.
I almost had to be carried out of the Procedure Theatre. My body wouldn't seem to respond readily to my commands. The attendants that led me in that morning helped me out of the Theatre and back into the exam room, where they placed me on the toilet. Dr. Bower was there to help hold up my now limp body as it released the electrolytic fluid from my bowls and bladder.
I could feel the muscles in my private places quiver and shake. As my belly emptied, I started to feel better. I was given water and hot chocolate to drink and began to feel reinvigorated. A sense of well being gradually settled over me.
When the nurse asked how I felt, I was surprised to say that aside from being totally exhausted and more than just a little crampy, I actually felt exhilarated.
As we spoke, Dr. Bower approached with a glove and a tube of something. He put the glove on and began to apply a very soothing salve to my chapped nipples. I was surprised by my body's pleasant reaction to his gentle touch. Looking into my eyes, he sensed that I was actually enjoying his gentle care and asked if I wanted some salve applied to my sore clitoris and "rear entrance".
I looked into his face with slightly downcast eyes and demurely answered, "yes, I would like that very much." He gently lifted me onto the table and spread my legs for the last time that day. He opened my inflamed labia to reveal my sore little clit and touched it gently with a dab of the salve. I felt soothing relief as he slowly worked it into my inflamed and distressed clitoris. After a while, however, something began to stir within me. I enjoyed it fully, but surreptitiously. However, looking back on this today, both older and wiser now, I sincerely doubt that he was oblivious to this fact. The erotic overtones were obvious.
When he finished ministering to my clitoris, Dr. Bower turned his attention to my irritated labia and sore "bum". Again, I found that I was thoroughly enjoying the attention and the salve clearly did calm and sooth my pouting red lips and little rosebud.
When Doctor Bower had finished, he rose and bid me goodbye and left me to take a nap before my ride home would be summoned. It took me an hour of dosing and another half hour of conscious effort to get my body back under my full control.
When I was finally almost prepared to leave that day, I asked the nurse, "What time is it?" "Five thirty", she answered. My experimental regimen must have started at around nine that morning. It had been a long and very interesting day. As I pondered this, the same attendants that had been with me all day, returned with my clothes and helped me get dressed. One of them even tied my shoes for me.
When I was fully dressed, I was ushered out carefully to the front desk where I was handed a check for $1,300 for the day's participation. I smiled and bid my nurse good bye. She returned my smile and I wobbled out of the waiting room in B13 and into the waiting arms of my boy friend, Ken. As Ken embraced me, the nurse called after us, "I'll see you at five AM sharp next Friday, Ms. Martin, please be punctual." A shiver went down my spine. It was a shiver of excitement and anticipation.
Ken took me home and put me in our bed. I nearly slept away the entire 24 hours that followed. Ken brought me soup to eat and I slept. The following Monday, I arrived at school, still walking slowly, slightly bent over and sore; but, actually looking forward to Friday.
Despite questions from Ken, both during and after, the research project, I limited both the scope and specificity of my answers. Ken never learned the details of my experiences in the hospital basement. I held those details and my thoughts about them close to me. Ken sensed that they were for me and no one else. He never intruded despite the fact that we have now been married almost thirty years and have two grown kids.
Through all of the years since the research project, I've harbored a profound interest in medically oriented sexual play that I now know is Medical Fetish. I believe my participation in the research project, back at my university, almost thirty years ago, may well have been formative in the development of that interest.
My husband, Ken, knows about my fetish interests but, unfortunately, doesn't share any of these proclivities with me, so, we rarely speak of them.
I have seen Dr. Bower regularly, however. He's been a prominent private practice OB/GYN in our area and has been my Gynecologist for most of the years since I graduated from college. He's seen me through marriage, medical school, two births, menopause and a recent hysterectomy.
I now hold the professorship that Doctor Bower once held at our hospital where, in addition to my teaching responsibilities in the field of Andrology, I run the same medical research program that he ran back when I was a test subject many years ago.
Yesterday, I learned that Doctor Bower had died in a car accident over the previous weekend. We shared a long and very special relationship. I trusted and respected him deeply. His death made me think of that day, long ago, when I first met him. I decided to write down what happened that day, while it is still so fresh in my mind.
After a considerably longer pause than before, the stimulator beeped and the tingling started again. I moaned as it increased and I began struggling against my restraints. I was afraid that the next orgasm would carry me over the fine line between bliss and agony. The sensation built in intensity relentlessly. As I neared climax, again, I became anxious. My head came up and I looked straight down between my legs at my intent audience as another orgasm slammed over my body like pounding surf and ebbed away slowly like the tide; but, before it did, I observed something that amazed me even in the throws of my rapture. It was a stream of clear liquid, rhythmically gushing from the general area of my vagina. From where, exactly, I couldn't be certain at the time. I also noticed that it was landing on a strategically placed absorbent pad on the floor that had obviously been left behind precisely for this purpose.
My first thought was that this was urine; but I quickly reasoned that this wasn't possible with the Foley lodged tightly in my urethra. Although up until that day, I had never known that a woman could ejaculate, my experiences that morning quickly proved that they do.
Upon reading up on the subject over the week that followed my first visit to the teaching hospital, I learned that my ejaculate was made by peri-urethral glands and that it emanated from my "paraurethral ducts" just below my urethra.
My thoughts were interrupted by yet another beep from the stimulation generator. Apparently, more time than I had realized had elapsed while I mulled over what I later learned to be my ejaculatory response.
My excitement grew quickly as the little tremors returned to my body and I prepared myself for another climax. I began to quake and shiver as the orgasm built rapidly. Soon, I sensed that orgasm was imminent. My body was hammered by another violent climax that lingered as it got harder and harder and harder until I literally felt pummeled by it. After perhaps a full minute, it peaked and subsided. Pain shot through me once again until, just a second later, the stimulation stopped.
My head fell back and I took one deep breath before hearing the beep and the stimulation started anew. I instantly had those now familiar little tremors again. I became extremely apprehensive. I didn't think I could take much more of this. The term, "shattering orgasm" came to mind as I once again had a thought that nearly made me laugh out loud: my initial impression was correct. This was a strange form of bionic foreplay and now, if this continued much longer, I felt sure that I'd be a dead woman.
My head bobbed uncontrollably as the pulses built toward yet another climax that actually made me see stars as it arrived in a blinding flash.
Then the stimulation stopped, again. The twitching of my tits and hips were becoming painfully intense. My muscles felt like putty after working convulsively in the throws of one towering orgasm after another.
The current stopped for about 15 minutes, apparently so that I could again regain my composure. I relaxed and drifted.
After this respite, I again heard the beep signaling the start of another orgasmogenic cycle and felt the familiar tingling welling up inside me and crawling along the surface of my genitals. Tears of both joy and anguish rolled down my cheeks as I looked up at the people watching me "cum", over and over, again. I took some deep breaths and tried to prepare. My tears flowed even more profusely as the potent tingling increased. I was soon in full orgasm. My belly tightened around the huge load of fluid that filled my bladder and rectum. The uncontrollable orgasm shot from my genitals out to the tips of every extremity. I could now literally sense the intense orgasm out at the tips of my fingers and toes! My flesh seemed to shudder and undulate as strong sensations reverberated throughout my entire body. The term "flesh quake" came to mind. I was cumming --- again.
Then, mercifully, the stimulation stopped. However, this time, the beep, followed by the pulses and tiny tremors almost immediately followed. I was certain that I couldn't take these staccato orgasms, one after another like this. I could hear myself squeaking like a mouse as the mini tremors swept through my body. I was drenched in sweat, my hair was matted and my muscles ached form their nearly constant spasms. Then, my back arched and I once again strained against my bonds as I reached one climax after another.
Soon, nothing came out of my very dry and wide open mouth except little grunts, groans and squeaks. The orgasmogenic cycle repeated periodically and continuously as morning turned into afternoon. I almost lost track of time. In the periods between stimulation, I sunk into a deeply introspective reverie in which I imagined my body floating through a dark and infinite void. I began to contemplate the complex and even profound sensations that I was experiencing. Periodically, I was snatched back to a hyper-orgasmic reality, after which I'd return to my private reverie.
After a while, in one of the silent interludes, I imagined my body washed in an infinite, warm and inviting ocean. These interludes were now becoming my main focus. The prominence of the orgasms diminished to mere punctuation. My thoughts turned to the sexual norms that had been instilled in me by my parents and, ultimately, even to the societal norms enforced by our peers, priests and authorities. I thought about my attitudes toward sex, love, pleasure and responsibility.
At length, during another respite from the relentless orgasmic onslaughts that punctuated my languour, the doors to the Procedure Theatre seemed to burst open and people rushed into the room. As I focused my attention and tried to make sense of what was happening, gradually, I understood that the entire Procedure Room staff was returning.
The doctor took his seat. I made eye contact with him through red, dried tear encrusted eyes as he sat between my aching legs. As his eyes met mine, the doctor announced, "I will now drain the subject's bladder and re-instill another 500 cc of conductive fluid." I felt the thing in my pee hole being manipulated and heard the fluid from my poor tortured bladder flowing into the stainless steel pan under me.
The nurse arrived with a fresh bag of electrolyte for my imminent bladder infusion. She also hung a fresh saline IV and swabbed my mouth with the foul stuff again. As she did so she whispered into my ear, "Don't worry Leslie, you can take this. We're carefully monitoring your vitals. You're doing just fine. I know that your tired. Hang in there for us. Are you going to be alright, honey?" I nodded my head slightly.
The doctor adjusted the tubing from the freshly hung bag of electrolytic fluid and connected it to what he then referred to as my "urethral fixture" meaning, my special Foley catheter. He then immediately reached up and opened the clamp on the tubing. Cool fluid drained into my now empty and enervated bladder. The doctor stood and placed a cuff, similar to the cuff on my arm, around the small IV bag containing the electrolytic fluid. I wondered what its purpose could be. He reached for the inflation bulb hanging from the cuff and began to rapidly pump. As the cuff expanded it squeezed the IV bag and I could feel a forceful gush of the cool solution cascade into my bladder like a cold tidal wave washing through my lower pelvis. He continued to pump the bulb until the bag was once again empty and then turned to the gallery.
"Ms. Martin has now completed two hours of the four hour regimen scheduled for today," said Dr. Bower. I groaned at the prospect of another two hours of orgasmic assault, as he spoke.
The nurse now stood by to operate the stimulation generator. "We will commence stimulation again on my mark.....5...4...3....2...1... mark", said the doctor. I shook my head and tried to indicate that I'd had enough. I looked into the doctors eyes pleadingly as the tingling started once again to reverberate through my pelvis and radiate out through the rest of my body. "Oh," I thought, "I won't be able to do this for another two hours!" My body started to tighten with the increasing sensations coursing through me. My chin dug into my chest as my next orgasm neared. Then, I threw my head back, only to have it rise slightly off the pillow again in a convulsion of simultaneous bliss and agony that made my body dance to the stimulation generator's tune in orgasmic spasms.
So that's how it went....My bladder had been drained and refilled. One or more orgasms started every 3 to 17 minutes for the next two hours as I once again drifted into a dreamy reverie, punctuated by orgasmic frenzy. The doctors, nurses, students and research assistants, all strangers, witnessed my most private act, again and again and again, right in front of them, but they would never share my private thoughts. As they tended to their data and instruments, recording the details of my sexual titillation, I thought in turn about sex, pain, pleasure, inhibition and then finally came to something that surprised me: exhibitionism.
I realized now that I WAS enjoying this. And I wasn't just enjoying the multi-orgasmic pleasure. I was enjoying and, in fact, was even aroused by, the keen interest in me and my body. I also was coming to appreciate the subtle and delicious intersection of pleasure and pain. I was also beginning to comprehend that my feelings of humiliation that day had been both unwarranted and unnecessary. I decided that I was proud of my body, proud of how tough it was, proud of what it could do and proud of the contribution that I was making to the program.
Nonetheless, I was happy when Doctor Bower returned and announced that I had completed the first day of the four day study. As the gallery full of students above us emptied out, he personally thanked me for my participation and told me that the data that that had been generated that day would contribute to a body of knowledge that would radically improve society's understanding of the underlying neurophysiology of the human sexual response. He also told me that I was a "trooper" and a particularly good subject. I found myself basking in his praise.
Doctor Bower stayed behind that day to personally assist in my "after care". He gently removed the "fixtures", clamps, wires, pads and instruments from my body, personally.
I almost had to be carried out of the Procedure Theatre. My body wouldn't seem to respond readily to my commands. The attendants that led me in that morning helped me out of the Theatre and back into the exam room, where they placed me on the toilet. Dr. Bower was there to help hold up my now limp body as it released the electrolytic fluid from my bowls and bladder.
I could feel the muscles in my private places quiver and shake. As my belly emptied, I started to feel better. I was given water and hot chocolate to drink and began to feel reinvigorated. A sense of well being gradually settled over me.
When the nurse asked how I felt, I was surprised to say that aside from being totally exhausted and more than just a little crampy, I actually felt exhilarated.
As we spoke, Dr. Bower approached with a glove and a tube of something. He put the glove on and began to apply a very soothing salve to my chapped nipples. I was surprised by my body's pleasant reaction to his gentle touch. Looking into my eyes, he sensed that I was actually enjoying his gentle care and asked if I wanted some salve applied to my sore clitoris and "rear entrance".
I looked into his face with slightly downcast eyes and demurely answered, "yes, I would like that very much." He gently lifted me onto the table and spread my legs for the last time that day. He opened my inflamed labia to reveal my sore little clit and touched it gently with a dab of the salve. I felt soothing relief as he slowly worked it into my inflamed and distressed clitoris. After a while, however, something began to stir within me. I enjoyed it fully, but surreptitiously. However, looking back on this today, both older and wiser now, I sincerely doubt that he was oblivious to this fact. The erotic overtones were obvious.
When he finished ministering to my clitoris, Dr. Bower turned his attention to my irritated labia and sore "bum". Again, I found that I was thoroughly enjoying the attention and the salve clearly did calm and sooth my pouting red lips and little rosebud.
When Doctor Bower had finished, he rose and bid me goodbye and left me to take a nap before my ride home would be summoned. It took me an hour of dosing and another half hour of conscious effort to get my body back under my full control.
When I was finally almost prepared to leave that day, I asked the nurse, "What time is it?" "Five thirty", she answered. My experimental regimen must have started at around nine that morning. It had been a long and very interesting day. As I pondered this, the same attendants that had been with me all day, returned with my clothes and helped me get dressed. One of them even tied my shoes for me.
When I was fully dressed, I was ushered out carefully to the front desk where I was handed a check for $1,300 for the day's participation. I smiled and bid my nurse good bye. She returned my smile and I wobbled out of the waiting room in B13 and into the waiting arms of my boy friend, Ken. As Ken embraced me, the nurse called after us, "I'll see you at five AM sharp next Friday, Ms. Martin, please be punctual." A shiver went down my spine. It was a shiver of excitement and anticipation.
Ken took me home and put me in our bed. I nearly slept away the entire 24 hours that followed. Ken brought me soup to eat and I slept. The following Monday, I arrived at school, still walking slowly, slightly bent over and sore; but, actually looking forward to Friday.
Despite questions from Ken, both during and after, the research project, I limited both the scope and specificity of my answers. Ken never learned the details of my experiences in the hospital basement. I held those details and my thoughts about them close to me. Ken sensed that they were for me and no one else. He never intruded despite the fact that we have now been married almost thirty years and have two grown kids.
Through all of the years since the research project, I've harbored a profound interest in medically oriented sexual play that I now know is Medical Fetish. I believe my participation in the research project, back at my university, almost thirty years ago, may well have been formative in the development of that interest.
My husband, Ken, knows about my fetish interests but, unfortunately, doesn't share any of these proclivities with me, so, we rarely speak of them.
I have seen Dr. Bower regularly, however. He's been a prominent private practice OB/GYN in our area and has been my Gynecologist for most of the years since I graduated from college. He's seen me through marriage, medical school, two births, menopause and a recent hysterectomy.
I now hold the professorship that Doctor Bower once held at our hospital where, in addition to my teaching responsibilities in the field of Andrology, I run the same medical research program that he ran back when I was a test subject many years ago.
Yesterday, I learned that Doctor Bower had died in a car accident over the previous weekend. We shared a long and very special relationship. I trusted and respected him deeply. His death made me think of that day, long ago, when I first met him. I decided to write down what happened that day, while it is still so fresh in my mind.
the end
Mink's SIGNATURE
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HELLO VIEWERS THIS IS 80% TRUE AND 20% FICTIONAL STORY WHERE IT HAPPENED IN BENGALURU, AN IT GIRL SNEHDIKA SUBMIT HER 3 YEARS BEING A SLAVE TO HER CEO. THIS IS GOING TO BE A WEEKLY UPDATE, CONTINUATION WILL BE PURELY BASED ON YOUR COMMENTS AND VIEWS, IF I FEEL LIKE THE STORY HASN'T REACH TO...
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