This story is a work of fiction. Some real institutions are mentioned, but they are used fictitiously. Insofar as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those institutions has ever behaved as described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.
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I had always had a distrust and, perhaps, fear of doctors. Annual check-up? Not after I was done playing ball in college. I suffered through a lot rather than go to a doctor to seek treatment. However, my problem with my left leg gave me no choice. There were days when I simply could not walk.
I had used modest athletic talent and good grades to get a football scholarship to a school with a great academic reputation. I picked up some muscle and a bit of quickness in college and, thanks to outstanding coaching, was a starter as the blocking tight end my senior year. I had also managed to maintain the good grades. I was never remotely a candidate for the NFL but, I think, playing college ball helped me get into law school. Sadly, an auto accident deprived me of both parents while I was in law school. However, the settlement with the company whose truck killed my parents paid for law school with a bit left over.
I had done well in law school, but my law school wasn't prestigious enough that I could go on to one of the big money law firms in New York, D.C., or Chicago. Thanks to some sympathetic friends of my parents who were politically connected, I was hired to work on the civil side of a county prosecutor's office in Southwestern Ohio, where I was from. The work, advising and representing various county offices, was reasonably interesting. The benefit package was good. The hours were regular. I had plenty of time to work out. I was content.
I had been dating an attractive and ambitious young woman who was an associate attorney at one of the City's big law firms. She dumped me, saying "you're perfectly happy being an Assistant Prosecutor!" I didn't see that as a failing on my part. A couple of months later, I began noticing pain at the top of my left leg when I ran. It wasn't serious and I figured it would improve over time. Wrong.
The pain got so bad that I took a break from running. That didn't help. Within a month, it was painful to walk or even to sit at my desk. In addition to my general aversion to doctors, I was reluctant to see someone about this because the pain was located at the inside top of my thigh, just to the left of my balls. I really didn't want some old guy doctor playing around there.
I realized I had to see someone when I got out of bed one morning. I swung my feet to the floor and tried to stand. The knifing pain just left of my groin was so bad that I collapsed on the floor and barfed.
The County's health insurance required me to see an in-network family practice physician. Of course, I didn't have a doctor. After getting a list from County HR, I called around until I lucked out and found one who had a cancelled appointment late that afternoon. Thankfully, grey-haired Dr. Ralph Peterman kept his hands off my balls. He gave me painkillers and had me undergo an MRI. After seeing the MRI report, he referred me to an orthopedic specialist, Dr. K. Saunders.
A couple of excruciating weeks later, I was sitting in an exam room in a newish, three story office building near the university that housed Saunders & Saunders PSC and a physical therapy facility. An exceptionally beautiful woman walked into the room. She was tall, close to six feet, slender, and had straight brown hair that framed a thin model's face. The obligatory white lab coat she wore didn't allow for conclusions about her figure, but I guessed it was nice from the graceful and confident way she moved. Behind her was a shorter, younger blonde whose light blue scrubs outlined her large breasts and flat stomach. The woman in the white coat said, "Hello Mr. Mueller. I'm Kate Saunders. This is my assistant Terry." Dr. K. Saunders had a dazzling smile.
Dr. Saunders took a complete history of my problem. Unlike the few doctors I'd seen before, she made me think she was actually listening to me. She thought for a couple of minutes after I finished. Then, she said, "I've seen the report from the MRI Dr. Peterman ordered. I think I know what is going on, although I've not treated a condition exactly like this before. I'd like to feel the muscles at the top of your thigh. Would you please take your pants and underwear off and get on the exam table."
"But . . ." I started to say.
Dr. Saunders smiled. "Yes," she said, "you'll be naked from the waist down. I assure you that Terry and I have seen many naked men. This is necessary to confirm my diagnosis." She stopped talking and just looked at me.
"Well, shit," I thought, "this is what I get for seeing a doctor." Still, it hurt just sitting in the chair and I clearly wasn't getting any treatment unless I exposed myself to the two women. I stood up, painfully, and slid off my shoes. Bracing myself against a counter with my left hand, I undid my belt and my trousers with my right. I lowered the zipper until my pants fell to the floor.
Trying to push the elastic waistband of my boxers down with only one hand was a bigger challenge than I expected. Dr. Saunders said, "Terry, will you please help Mr. Mueller get his underwear off." With a smile, the sexy young blonde stepped in front of me, put a hand at each of my hips, and swiftly pushed my boxers down below my knees.
I don't have an extraordinarily long dick. However, what girlfriends have told me and what I sort of noticed myself in locker rooms is that my dick is thicker, has a larger diameter, than a lot of guys. As my boxers fell to my ankles, Terry said, "Oh my!"
"Terry, please help Mr. Mueller onto the table," Dr. Saunders said. To me, she said, "Mr. Mueller, you have no reason to be ashamed of people seeing your naked body. You are a well-built man." With an arm around my shirttails, Terry helped me step onto a low stool and then sit on the exam table. "Please lie back and spread your legs," Dr. Saunders said. After a moment of hesitation, I did. Dr. Saunders said, "Terry would you please hold Mr. Mueller's penis and testicles to his right?"
"Gladly," Terry replied. I felt her soft warm hands gently grasp my dick and balls and move them away from my left thigh. Dr. Saunders probed with her fingers at the very top of my thigh. I was beginning to like this trip to the doctor when Dr. Saunders pushed at a different spot on the top of my thigh. She didn't push hard, but the pain caused me to yelp and my body jerked, causing my dick to slide a little in Terry's hand.
"I'm sorry," Dr. Saunders said. "I need to probe this area a bit further. It will probably hurt some more. Terry, please keep him out of my way." I felt Terry's hand on my dick tighten although, thankfully, she kept a loose hold on my balls. Dr. Saunders probed some more. It hurt. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.
Although it seemed like forever, it probably only took Dr. Saunders a few seconds to finish her examination. I was still lying on my back, with tears in my eyes, when she finished. "Painful?" Dr. Saunders asked. I nodded. "Terry, please get him something." Terry left the room but returned in a couple of minutes. She showed the pills in her hand to Dr. Saunders. Dr. Saunders asked me "you didn't drive yourself here, did you?" I shook my head. "Good," she said. "Take this." Terry handed me two pills and then a paper cup of water.
"You have an unusual muscle spasm," Dr. Saunders said. "Typically, a muscle spasm lasts a relatively short period of time and the question for us is what caused the spasm and how do we prevent a recurrence. In your case, the spasm has not relaxed but has gotten tighter and appears to be inducing spasm in surrounding muscles. We'll have to identify the cause. The first step is to relax the spasm and heal any damage resulting from it. I'm going to prescribe a muscle relaxant. I can't make it too powerful or you'd not be able to take care of yourself. I want you to get physical therapy, stretching exercises, strengthening that part of your body, and some massage. I want the therapist to study how you move to see if we can figure out what caused this. You can go anywhere you wish for the therapy. It will be easier for me if you use our physical therapy here. I know our therapists so their observations will have more meaning to me, and I talk with them daily."
After four days on the meds, I could walk relatively pain free. That was good because I was due for my first physical therapy session. I in the physical therapy waiting room when a low, sexy female voice called, "Mr. Mueller?" I looked up. I had thought Dr. Saunders was a beautiful woman and that her assistant was sexy. The woman coming towards me as I slowly stood made the Doctor and her assistant seem plain by comparison.
April Webb was my therapist. April explained that she would be working with me throughout my therapy. I had no complaint about that. April was late 20s, just a few years younger than me. She was about 5'8" with copper-colored hair. Her face showed a few freckles. She had prominent check bones, a strong chin, a wide smile, and two large green eyes that seemed to draw you in. Her top and yoga pants outlined an athletic figure. Our relationship would, of course, be strictly professional; but I was looking forward to getting to know April Webb a little.
April put me through a course of stretching exercises followed by some, to me rather odd, resistance exercises for my legs. I had to do this therapy with April three times a week. As we worked together, I discovered that April was bright, observant, kind, and funny. She had a gift for making you feel like you were the most important person in her world. I became very attracted to April. I began thinking she was attracted to me but dismissed that as self-delusion. She just had a good manner with patients. Besides, a woman as gorgeous as April, with her personality, was undoubtedly taken.
During the last session of my second week of therapy, April said, "now that we have you loosened up a bit, Dr. Saunders wants to start massage therapy on the area of the spasm."
"Who does that?" I asked.
April smiled. "I do," she said, "I'm also a licensed massage therapist."
Given where the spasm was located, that brought me up short. April read my concern in my face. "You can wear a jock strap if you like," she said.
"I didn't bring one," I replied. I typically wore compression shorts.
April's smile broadened. "In that case," she said, "I guess I'll get to see that bulge in your shorts uncovered." That was unnerving but, as we continued through the session, I also found myself excited at the idea of exposing myself to April. Was I a weirdo?
When the main part of the session was over, April told me to take a shower. "Dry yourself off well. Just wrap a towel around yourself. I'll be waiting here in the hall."
I did as I was told. It was a little scary, and exciting, to step from the locker room into the hallway wearing just a towel. I followed April down the hall. Of course, twice as we were walking, we met other women who worked at the facility. Both times, the other woman looked at me and smiled. "I think you're becoming popular here," April quipped.
At the far end of the hall, April pushed open a door and held it. I walked into a small room with the lights set low. In the center of the room was a massage table with a sheet covering it. April came in behind me and closed the door. "Ok, Peter," she said, "time to lose the towel."
I paused for a second, then untied my towel and tossed it on a low cabinet against the wall. April looked at me for a moment. "Damn, Peter," she said, "I should have made you walk down here nude. Sheila and Carrie would have fallen in love. You have a great body."
"Thanks," I said. I'd never really thought about a guy as having a great-looking body.
"Ok," April said, "lie down on your back." Once I had done that, April looked down at me. With a slight smile, she said, "for me to access the site of the spasm, I'm going to have to hold your, uh," April said, nodding her heads towards my dick. "Is that ok?"
Something in April's tone made me relax and feel more confident. "Yeah," I said, "I'm ok with a beautiful woman holding my dick."
"Beautiful woman?" April said. We looked in each other's eyes for a long moment. Something passed between us that got me thinking maybe April did like me. Finally, April grinned and said, "if you're lobbying for a happy ending, I can't do that, at least not on company time."
April's massage focused entirely on the area I had injured. Unlike Dr. Saunders' probing, April inflicted no pain at all. Of course, having her hold my dick was also nice. After half an hour, April stopped and said, "that will do it." She paused and added, "when we've got more time, maybe I can give you a full massage."
