Unusual Classmates Meeting

Time passes, and some events are forgotten, while only those associated with the most emotional experiences remain in memory, not always positive ones. I am often reproached for having a tendency to exaggerate or embellish my memories, calling me a fantasist. I usually respond that the point is not whether baron Munchausen flew to the Moon or not, but that he never lies. Our experiences are always subjective, but they are caused by objective circumstances.

Life sometimes presents strange surprises. I have never met some of my classmates who, like me, lived in a small town in the southwest of the former Soviet Union, since finishing school. It has been almost 20 years since that day when I moved to another country, across vast lands, across the ocean. And suddenly, just a month after arriving in America, I met one of my classmates in Los Angeles, first at a job placement agency, and exactly a week later, another classmate. In Hollywood, there was a competitive examination for heat engineering engineers, and there, right on the street, I unexpectedly ran into a classmate in a crowded crowd of passers-by. We didn't have much to talk about, as we never interacted even during our school years, but we had to stop and talk about "the past." We met like close friends... Truly, the world is small! Her name was Lena. I also accidentally encountered her and another classmate, Vika, a couple more times, under quite spicy circumstances, which I will tell you about in detail.

It was many years ago, shortly after I arrived in America. Unexpectedly, it turned out that in order to obtain a green card, we needed to undergo another medical examination, which all of us, along with the refugees, had already gone through in Moscow. Moreover, it turned out that we had to pay a considerable amount for this examination. We already had medical insurance, but it was not suitable for this particular medical examination. With difficulty, we paid for the medical examination for my wife and child. As for me, our new American friends advised me to go to a free clinic at a hospital affiliated with a university.

I had to be there by 7 a.m. in order to at least make it into the first hundred patients (they can only accommodate up to 200 people per day). At that time, I was still very unfamiliar with the area, and I had just started driving a car, so I got lost and arrived late! I found the place only at 9 a.m. There was already a mile-long line. I stood at the very end and decided to fill out the forms, planning to postpone the actual visit to the next day...

As soon as I submitted my form, a young and pleasant-looking nurse approached me and offered, in fluent Russian, to let me go ahead without waiting in line if I agreed to have students participate in my medical examination for educational purposes...

The offer was tempting, but almost instinctively, I declined right away. In my mind, I thought it would be better for me to wait in line or come back the next day. However, the girl turned out to be persistent and started persuading and convincing me... She said that if I agreed, it would expedite the process of obtaining the green card. While I was talking to her, I noticed that nurses were approaching other visitors as well, apparently with similar offers, but they spoke to them in Spanish, so I couldn't understand anything... At the same time, I noticed that all the Mexicans were hesitantly refusing.

It was a rare occasion when I encountered a stranger here who spoke to me in Russian. How could I resist the persuasion? For some reason, her words convinced me that we were "our own people," and therefore, I had nothing to be ashamed of! Although I didn't understand why I would feel ashamed in the first place: it was supposed to be a simple blood test, measuring blood pressure, weight, and height, that's all. At that time, I still didn't understand what she was talking about - apparently, I missed something in the conversation.

Indeed, later on, I caught myself thinking that I, for some reason, had an unfounded trust in this Russian-speaking, albeit unfamiliar, person. Besides, it felt uncomfortable to refuse a girl, especially an attractive one, after so many persistent requests.

And so, I agreed and followed my new acquaintance somewhere through the corridors. The girl turned out to be very talkative; she told me that she had been studying at the university's technology faculty for three years and now she was advised to switch to the medical faculty, where she wouldn't become a doctor but would work as a diagnostician, conducting various tests and analyzing X-rays. She was simply thrilled that she managed to persuade me because it earned her an additional credit.

Finally, she led me into a very small auditorium, where the chairs were arranged like in an amphitheater. Handing me over to a middle-aged nurse, she said that she wouldn't say goodbye, so we would see each other again soon during the lesson.

The nurse turned out to be an English speaker. She gave me some papers to sign, said something else, but it went in one ear and out the other, or I simply didn't understand. Then she took me to a shower, instructed me to undress, specifically saying, "no pants!" She gave me a plastic bag for my clothes, a paper gown, and even a disposable razor, telling me to remove the hair in intimate areas. It turned out that they would be practicing performing ultrasound examinations during the lesson and using a special gel that facilitates the smooth movement of the transducer (which is a measuring device). And if the hair wasn't removed, it would be difficult to wash off the gel afterward... She also advised me in a cautionary and mysterious tone to wash my "private parts" particularly thoroughly, adding that it would be awkward since there would be girls present during the lesson... At that point, I started to have some doubts, and I even thought about discreetly running away when the nurse left. I was liking this situation less and less.

But when I came out of the shower, the nurse was still waiting for me in the corridor. She took the bag with my belongings and, in a questioning tone, and as it seemed to me, with a hint of irony in her voice, she said, "no pants?" (while giving me a playful and shy smile). As I mentioned before, I had undergone such a medical examination before, so I was slightly surprised, but it felt awkward to ask for clarification. I had taken off my trousers, but my underwear was still on. The flimsy paper gown they gave me was unreliable; it was about to fall apart. I couldn't just stay in that gown alone; it would be like wrapping myself in a newspaper. Moreover, she said "no pants," not "no underwear."

When we returned to the auditorium, students were already gathering there, mostly Russian-speaking ones, including my new acquaintance who lured me here... I looked around the room: the students were engrossed in their own activities, showing no interest in me or the lesson. Most of them were young women, and a third of them were males. There were also many Russian-speaking individuals among them, Soviet immigrants, the "our own people" that the girl had mentioned, whom I had nothing to be ashamed of, according to her words.

It all started as usual. I was told to lie down on the examination table. They measured my blood pressure and pulse. Then the doctor removed my paper gown, but upon seeing that I still had my underwear on, she frowned and commanded with a commanding voice that brooked no objections, "Take off your underwear!" She gave a stern look to the nurse, who started to justify herself, saying something about instructing me. Maybe she did, but I didn't understand. I remember signing some papers without reading them. Was it mentioned before? As a result of all this commotion, the room fell silent, and the students finally stopped their unrelated activities, with all eyes now turned towards me.

I became somewhat flustered. Moreover, removing underwear while lying down in the position I was in was difficult. Finally, when I raised myself up on my elbows once again, the nurse skillfully pulled off my underwear, gathered the remaining pieces of paper from the gown, and there I was, exposed to everyone like Adam, instinctively covering my "private parts" with my hands.

In a state of mild shock, I didn't immediately grasp what had happened. The situation had turned surreal. As it turned out, I ended up in a class where students were practicing performing ultrasound examinations of male genitals. I was instructed to only cover and hold my penis with my hands while leaving my testicles exposed. This continued for about three or four hours, with everyone getting their practice, some of them multiple times. Occasionally, there would be breaks, and students would go in and out of the room. However, within about ten minutes, I got used to it, and the whole situation no longer seemed abnormal. The students were discussing things diligently, learning how to take measurements and freeze frames. They sought assistance from the instructor when they encountered difficulties. It was a scene of work and fast-paced learning, just like during any laboratory work.

For a short while, I managed to control my erection. In the first few minutes, I was extremely nervous, almost in shock. But once I calmed down and got used to the situation, this issue started to make itself known. Moreover, the gel that the students generously used began to gradually get on my fingers and the base of my penis, making it slippery like a snake. It became increasingly challenging to hold onto it, as it would slip out of my grasp, eliciting smiles from the girls. Seeing my embarrassment, my acquaintance who had brought me here reassured me not to be self-conscious about it, saying it was a perfectly normal reaction.

In addition, at the end of that day, I was informed that my examinations were not yet complete, and I would have another session in a week's time. Only after that would my medical records and forms be sent as required. Not showing up at the designated appointment would clearly complicate the progress of my documents, of which I had already submitted the originals when registering for this medical examination. I needed to somehow conclude what I had started. After weighing the pros and cons, I decided to endure it and leave everything as it was.

Exactly one week later, I arrived for the next session, as promised. To ensure I wouldn't be late again, I even arrived thirty minutes earlier than the scheduled time. As the lesson was about to begin, the students finally started to appear.

And then, to my horror, I had my second unexpected encounter with that same classmate with whom I had once met in Hollywood in the early days after my arrival. She turned out to be one of the interns. Seeing me, she was delighted, approached me, and started telling me how she enrolled in these courses on the advice of another mutual classmate, Vika, who also lives here and was about to arrive. After about fifteen minutes, that very Vika approached. Both of them assumed that I also came for the internship, and that we would once again be classmates of sorts. They began whispering and discussing among themselves, openly talking about which of the men waiting here they would, as Vika straightforwardly put it, "play with their balls" today. The situation was becoming critical.

Time passed, yet I couldn't bring myself to tell them the truth about my actual role. It was only when the nurse, who was already familiar to me, came up to me and loudly invited me to follow her to undress, get an enema, and take a shower. As that was said in front of everyone I finally informed them that, metaphorically speaking, today it seemed they would be "playing with my balls." Their faces contorted in astonishment, and I hastily explained to them how I ended up here and what was actually happening.

As we walked to the shower, I tried to explain to the nurse that I had encountered my former classmates here and that I was very anxious and embarrassed, and if it was possible to cancel this whole event. However, she just laughed... She didn't even want to hear about canceling the lesson; in fact, the situation amused her. Playfully smiling, she told me, as one would tell a small child, that to avoid feeling ashamed in front of my classmates, I needed to wash my buttocks and genitals particularly thoroughly today, as well as remove all hair in intimate areas.

Certainly, the prospect of appearing naked in front of familiar faces, especially former classmates, did not bring me any joy, but unfortunately, I had no choice. The argument that "we are our own people, and there's nothing to be ashamed of" no longer seemed as convincing to me.

It all repeated almost like on the first day, except this time I was instructed not to cover anything with my hands. The instructor explained to the students how erectile dysfunction is studied using ultrasound, focusing on the blood flow in the respective organ. For this purpose, the organ had to be in a "working" state. If it couldn't be achieved naturally in the laboratory conditions, they administered two injections -- one to induce an erection and the other to reverse it after the tests if it didn't subside on its own. However, in my case, due to the touch of so many female hands, the injections were fortunately unnecessary. However, I was particularly embarrassed that everyone could see my aroused penis, feeling as if I was behaving inappropriately.

The doors to the auditorium were strangely left unlocked, perhaps assuming that with such a crowd, there would be no privacy anyway. Besides, the training was not for doctors but merely for future lab technicians.

During the break, some random female students entered the room, mistaking it for their own. I instinctively covered myself with my hands, and Vika, speaking in Russian with a smile, addressed either me or her friend, saying, "Well, look at that! He's not shy at all around all of us, but suddenly he's embarrassed in front of these girls!" The girls who had entered found out where their classroom was (they were from a different department) and left, giggling cheerfully. In reality, the situation was indeed very awkward, almost indecent, and the second session of this "medical examination," when they moved on to studying the prostate, became even more improper. If I were to describe everything in detail, it would require a separate big story. Today, after thirty years, this whole story seems like a funny adventure that can be amusingly recounted. But back then, I was just over thirty years old, and of course, I experienced a certain shock, as if I had entered a different reality.

When it was Vika's turn, she couldn't think of anything better than engaging me in a personal conversation, asking me about my marital status, whether I had children, and similar topics. In the current situation, it all sounded somewhat ambiguous, and it wasn't easy to have a casual conversation with an attractive young woman who was simultaneously examining and holding my genitals in her hand. Perhaps she was trying, on the contrary, to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation, but it had the opposite effect.

In the second half of the day, after a thirty-minute break, a male instructor entered the room, replacing the nurse. He announced that the second part of the lesson would be dedicated to studying the prostate using transerectal ultrasound diagnostics methods.

The instructor explained that there are two options for the test: the first one is more comfortable for the patient, and the second one is more convenient for the examiner. In the first case, the patient lies on his left side, bending their knees towards the abdomen, and in the second case, the patient kneels and rests on their elbows. "Which option will we choose?" the instructor asked, addressing the audience.

Laughter came from the room, and some male voice said: "Definitely the knee-elbow position".

So, the instructor asked me to climb onto the examination table and assume a position on my knees and elbows. I hesitated; it felt uncomfortable to expose my bare buttocks to the audience in that position, lifting up my exposed bottom for everybody to see.

I stuttered and blushed as I expressed my concerns to the instructor,

- How can I expose my naked buttocks to everyone, turning my back to all those present?

The instructor smirked and said,

- No problem, we'll solve this issue right now...

With those words, he turned the examination table away from the audience. I climbed onto it, and the nurse helped position my knees in special soft knee supports attached to the hinged rails, securing them with clamps. I laid down, resting on my bent elbows, and placed my head on a soft pillow.

Lying down was fairly comfortable, except for the fact that my exposed bottom, lifted upwards, surely looked provocatively indecent.

The nurse set the knee rails in motion, spreading my legs, while the doctor returned the examination table to its original position, facing my exposed bottom towards the audience. I heard a collective exclamation of surprise and subdued laughter coming from the interns.

"Silence," the instructor called out, "We only have a few hours to study various diagnostic techniques, so let's not get distracted and focus on the subject of study."

With these words, he put on a rubber glove on his right hand and then touched the anal opening, applying a special gel to it.

Continuing to keep his rolling finger in the anal opening and rotating it from side to side, he continued addressing the audience, urging everyone to pay attention to the correct execution of this procedure and what to take note of. "Look, everyone, look closely. Now all of you need to learn the technique of this procedure," he said. This continued for about five minutes with him talking, while holding his finger in my anal opening.

"The entire procedure of transrectal ultrasound prostate diagnostics should take no more than five minutes," the instructor said. "Initially, the doctor inserts the index finger into the anal opening, providing lubrication to the internal surfaces. After that, the transducer can be inserted carefully. The inserted transducer is rotated slightly to the right and left to obtain an adequate number of images of the prostate gland."

After demonstrating all these procedures, the instructor called upon all the trainees to replicate his actions. The students lined up behind me. The sound of them putting on rubber gloves could be heard.

During the following hours, I could feel many fingers penetrating me, some more roughly, others more delicately. The transducer was inserted, removed, and rotated. I couldn't see who was doing it, and I occupied myself with trying to at least understand whether it was a man or a woman handling me each time in my rectal opening. The students didn't spare the gel and filled me with more of it than necessary.

Soon, it was finally the turn of my classmates. Vika asked me how I was feeling, if my buttocks hurt. By that time, I had learned to adapt to the ongoing procedures, trying not to hinder the penetrations, fighting against reflexive contractions of my anus. I was starting to feel okay, but I felt extremely embarrassed. I couldn't imagine how all of this looked from the outside.

Vika tried to show me how I looked from the outside using her small mirror from the manicure set. However, I couldn't see anything. So she took a few pictures on her phone and showed them to me, holding the phone up to my face. I didn't like the view from behind: spread legs, protruding anus smeared with the gel oozing from it, my scrotum hanging between the legs with two helplessly dangling testicles, and my aroused penis... It was not an attractive sight.

After some time, the session came to an end, and everyone started wrapping up. The students cleaned up their equipment, and the instructor provided feedback and guidance and left the room. I was still hold in the same position with transducer forgotten by somebody in my rare end.