Doctors Orders 1St Appointment

It was one of those days when things kept went wrong, right from the start. My alarm didn't go off, so I dressed hastily. I missed my train; I left my lunch at home and so on. It wasn't until I was almost too late that I remembered that I had a doctor's appointment that evening. I ended up having to run to catch my train, which was not a good idea as my appointment was about a sore knee; but as I sat on the train I realized that a sore knee was the least of my worries.

You see under my suit, I was wearing ladies knickers. They were pink, lacy at the front and silky everywhere else, bikini briefs style. I habitually wore panties under my boring business suit and I have done so for so long now that I have to remind myself not to wear them when the circumstances demand it. Being in such a rush that morning I had forgotten my doctor's appointment and had worn panties. I arrived at the surgery just in time for my appointment. I was about to head for the toilets so I could take them off, figuring that being caught 'going commando' was better that being caught in panties, when my name was called. The receptionist was a strict-looking woman, a bit older than me, wearing a name badge that said Margaret on the lapel of her smart gray skirt suit. She looked so stern I didn't want to make a fuss, so I headed for the consulting room, hoping that I could still find a way to avoid embarrassment.

Nervously I entered the room. Dr Susan Jones was waiting for me. I hadn't had an appointment with her before. As she ran through some routine questions I got my first look at her. She was about my age, early thirties, with long blonde hair, lovely blue eyes behind her spectacles and a trim, athletic figure. She was wearing a fitted white blouse and a short black skirt that showed off her legs. It was fair to say that Dr Jones was bit of a 'hottie'.

"And what is the problem Mr. Christian?"

"Um, it's my knee", I explained giving her some details of when it hurt.

"Well I shall need to give it thorough an inspection. Certainly I will give it as much attention as you have been giving my legs, Mr. Christian."

Oh dear, she had caught me eyeing up her legs. I mumbled an apology.

"Never mind, I'm sure you meant it as a compliment. Now slip off your trousers and pop onto the couch."

The 'going commando' plan was completely out of the question now. If I tried to slip my knickers off along with my trousers she'd think I was exposing myself. I removed my shoes, then my trousers and tried to get on the couch quickly and cover myself with my shirt.

She pulled her chair over and began examining my knee, prodding it and moving it about.

"Well there doesn't seem to be any ligament or cartilage damage, so that's good. Nice panties by the way, I have a pair like them myself. It could be a postural problem; maybe the way you stand puts pressure on your knee."

Relieved at her calm acceptance of my attire, I began to relax, and then realized that she had said something else.

"Sorry Doctor, I didn't catch that, what did you say?"

"I said, just slip off your shirt and socks and stand up for me, please 'Chrissie'."

With a sinking feeling I pulled off my socks and began to unbutton my shirt. Then a thought struck me.

"Why did you call me Chrissie?"

"Chrissie seems so much more appropriate than Mr. Christian, given your current attire. You have no objection do you, Chrissie?"

I meekly replied "No Doctor."

For what seemed like minutes but was probably a few seconds I stood there in just the pretty pink knickers. Oddly my biggest worry was trying desperately to remain calm and not let on just how turned on the situation was making me. Then I heard the doctor say into the intercom, "Can you pop in to my consulting room Helen?"

Within seconds we were joined by Helen, the nurse. I blushed as she entered the room. She was a plain-speaking Northern lass, a big girl, as tall as me and quite plump but in a curvy way. She was a blue nurses uniform of blouse and trousers.

"Blood hell, what have we got here?" she laughed.

"Chrissie here needs a longer consultation than I can fit in right now, but she's happy to wait til after the last appointment." Doctor Jones explained in a matter of fact tone, "Can you take Chrissie to wait in the records room?"

"No problem Doc." Helen said "come on the Chrissie, follow me" she ordered.

I went to get my clothes from the couch, but Dr Jones stopped me.

"You won't need those, its only 20 minutes or so."

So, dressed in just my pink panties I meekly followed Helen along the corridor, thankfully away from the waiting room. The records room was basically a small box room full of filing cabinets. There was no chair or anything for me to sit on, so I had to stand. As she left Helen said with a giggle "Don't wander off Chrissie."

I stood there waiting. Wandering off was not an option. Twice the door opened and the stern faced receptionist came in. Both times she simple said, "Excuse me Chrissie" went to a filing cabinet then went out. It was weird the way she ignored my predicament, although the way she called me 'Chrissie' showed that she was in on the joke. I wondered what was in store for me. Eventually Helen fetched me. In the corridor Margaret was at one end, Susan at the other. She called out, "Walk up and down the corridor for me please, Chrissie."

Under the gaze of the three women I walked up and down. To my horror I noticed that Margaret was filming me with a small video camera. Susan and Helen took it in turns to give me instructions. "Put each foot further across in front when you walk" or "swing your hips a little more". I knew their instructions were making my walk increasingly more feminine, but I couldn't refuse. Anyway, being ordered about by these three women, whilst wearing just panties, was a bit of a turn on, so I wouldn't want to refuse. Finally they directed me into the examination room again and made me stand with my hands on my head in the centre of the room.

"What is our diagnosis of our patient Chrissie?" Dr. Jones asked the others.

Margaret spoke first, "He's a little poof who probably takes it up the arse."

I tried to protest but Dr. Jones cut me short, telling me to keep quiet if I knew what was good for me.

"No, he's not gay," said Helen, "look at the way his cock twitches when I touch it." She stroked my cock through the lacy material and it responded by getting even more erect. "In fact there is a damp spot where he is dribbling pre-cum."

"I do believe you are right, Helen," replied the doctor. "Of course his smaller than average penis does mean that he is well suited to wearing ladies knickers and panties." She pulled on a pair of disposable rubber gloves. "Turn round, and bend forward with your elbows resting on the couch."

I obeyed her but the lowness of the couch meant that my bum was very exposed; more so when she slipped my pink panties down to expose my bum but keep my cock trapped. I felt a cold feeling on my bum.

"This is just some gel to assist my examination, Chrissie." Dr. Jones said as she began to rub the gel around and into my bum hole. My cock twitched even more as she applied more and more pressure with her finger. She pressed a little harder and her finger slipped in. I moaned with unexpected pleasure.

"Well he might be enjoying this, Margaret, but from the tightness around my finger it is not something he has done before, so we can rule your diagnosis out." As she spoke the beautiful doctor slid her finger in and out, whilst reaching round to touch my cock. It was all too much for me and I came messily in my panties.

Abruptly she removed her finger. "Stand up and pull up your panties," she ordered. "My opinion is that you are a panty-boy, someone with a panty fetish. I'm going to prescribe a course of treatment. You will follow my instructions, to the letter; otherwise we shall go to the police about your lewd behaviour. I have two witnesses to your state of arousal and suggestive behavour; you'll be in a world of trouble if that happens." She wrote a long list while I was allowed to get dressed. She handed me the envelope. "Your next appointment is tomorrow. Margaret has fitted you in just as surgery closes, so we'll be all alone, just like this evening. Follow the instructions in my letter exactly and we'll have some fun tomorrow. Good bye Chrissie, you sissy panty-boy."

I left clutching the envelope. All the way home the sticky wetness in my panties was a reminder of the events. I managed to get home before the wetness soaked through my trousers. As soon as I was home I opened the letter and began to read...