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ribcaca
>> #325031
Posted on 2019-07-03 01:20:52
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I stretch, and yawn, and roll over one more time, and wait for an alarm that doesn’t go off. I blink at the sunlit curtains, a shade of gray that’s so unimaginative it’s hard to imagine even I could pick it. I’m not in my own bed. A moment of panic that quickly subsides, but the spike in my heartbeat makes my head throb and it’s time to slowly sit upright.?
This isn’t my dorm room.?Where am I??

The confusion doesn’t last long. I’m in the Ector Building, south side of campus, a ten-minute bike ride from my dorm – if you know where to find it. It’s one of the more obscure buildings in the already obscure Nguyen-O’Hanrahan Community College of Greater North-Eastern Idasdotter County, itself so insignificant in the academic world that if it’s even on a map, it’s under a staple.?
The tear-away calendar on the wall reads August 9. Despite my throbbing head I crack a grin and peel the page away – August 10. Last day! I leave the August 9 page on the tiny square desk; I’ll take it with me as a souvenir when I check out.?

A college boy in North-Eastern Idasdotter County has two choices when it comes to making a buck during summer break: Eriksson Lumber or Flannery Timber, and there’s only so much plaid I’m willing to wear in a given year, so signing up for a college-funded drug trial seemed like a peachy idea. Four square meals and a paycheck, what more can you ask for??
Maybe a clue what the hell you’re in for. I suppose that’s something I could have asked for. But hey, these three weeks have just flown by. Finsished three Grishams and half a King (reading small-town horror in a tiny bedroom in a creepy understaffed old medical studies building isn’t a great idea) and later today I’m walking out of here!?

Come to think of it, the weeks really have flown by. I could barely tell you what happened. Hospital gowns and measurements and a couple of shots here and there. The government asked the hero attorney for help and he found an unlikely ally, but once the clown showed up I stopped reading. Jeez.?All right, Quinn, man up. Roll your naked ass out of bed, slip into that fresh green gown hanging on the door, and face the music.?“Ah! Good. I just came to wake you.” The doctor smiles and I sort of gape at him for a while. “Last day today, huh?”?

You ever reach for a doorhandle and just as you touch it, somebody opens it from the other side? It’s like when you pick up a pack of milk, thinking it’s full, and then it turns out to be empty and for a split second you think you’re super-strong, but really you’re just a dork. You know that feeling? So excuse me for grinning all stupid at doctor… uh…?

Daniels. Says so right there on the name-tag on his white jacket. Of course, I should have remembered. Doctor Daniels has been tracking my progress in the trials. I’m in the control group, see. Healthy, strapping pony-dude in his prime; gotta see how this or that medicine affects the healthy before you know for sure how it helps the sick.?“Ready for action, Doc! What’s on the menu today?”?

The stag smiles and lays a beefy arm around my shoulders (weird, but okay) and leads me down the hall. “Just the usual, Quinn. Excited to finally get out of here? I’ll miss you, you know.” Aw, ain’t that sweet? He doesn’t wait for me to answer, though, tugging on my arm. “My office is this way.”?

Oh yeah, of course. Left at the end of the hall. How’d I forget that? I’ve been in there every day for three weeks.?I’m actually kind of grateful for the hospital gown; the AC’s never been too reliable in this building and nothing cools a dude down like freeballing, know what I’m saying? I’d like it to seal up better at the back, but hey, we’re all guys here.?

He holds the door for me, I clop into his office and hop on the examination table, while doc Daniels wheels a metal tray over, covered in cloth. My attention’s focused on the screen on his desk, though, and I’m trying to be discrete about my giggling.?
“Uh, doc,” I say – discretely, like I mentioned! “You ain’t supposed to use university computers for that sorta thing.”

?I’m a millennial kid, I don’t judge. The internet educated me about the birds and the bees long before my folks worked up the courage for The Talk and gave me The Pamphlets, so if a red-blooded stag wants to rub one out to a poorly-filmed vid of some college dudes gang-banging a bitch, that ain’t no business of mine. It’s just not quite professional to leave that playing on the screen when you’re with a patient, you know??

The doc just grins that easy grin of his. “You know the drill, Quinn. We always start by reviewing yesterday’s results. Did you sleep okay? Sore?

”?Okay, if he’s cool, I can be cool. At least the sound’s off, so I stand a chance of not popping a boner. Be cool,

Quinn, be cool. “A bit, yeah. Just a bit of an ache, like a hangover, you know? Got any OJ?”?The stag shakes his head, slipping the velcro cuff of a blood pressure monitor around my bicep. “No fluids till after, you know that,” he says, squeezing the pump a few times. Results go on the clipboard, cuff comes off my arm, and then there’s the sting of a needle.?

“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to swipe some disinfectant first? And jeez, give a dude some warning, doc.” He tosses the syringe in the trash, leaving me to rub my arm. Burns a little, and man, am I thirsty. “Uh, what’s the gloves for, doc?”?

“Lean over the table, would you? Last check-up, you’ll be out of here in an hour,” the tall stag says, snapping the other latex glove on, and pats me on the shoulder. I try not to be too much of a bitch about it, but how happy would you be if you saw your doctor calmly drizzling KY on his index and middle fingers??

And jeez, I really shoulda swung my legs over the other side before bending over the table – I’m facing the screen with the porno. Now, don’t get me wrong, porn’s five-by-five with me and this won’t be the first time I pop a boner in a doctor’s office, but I seriously don’t want to be watching some dog-dude taking his turn behind whatever bimbo filly’s in the middle of that orgy, when there’s a cold, slick finger poking my butt.?

That’s how you deal with prostate exams, right? You think about the medical necessity, you tell yourself that the doc’s no happier about doing it than you are about feeling him do it, and you distance yourself from it, you think about anything other than – ow! – other than the second finger wiggling in for some reason. At least the jelly’s warmed up a little now.?

Actually, I feel pretty warm all over. My arm’s not burning any more, it’s pleasantly numb. And I don’t feel so achey any more, though I’m still thirsty. You know what? I don’t care that I’m popping a boner. It’s a natural biological response to getting your prostate checked, I don’t have to be a med student to know that, and jeez, the dog-dude just popped a hell of a knot in that filly on the screen.?

Wouldn’t mind taking a turn on her myself, know what I mean? She’s a little on the stout side, but still damn fit; probably more an athlete than a cheerleader, but that’s my kinda mare. Like, she’s probably pretty loose after that dog, and however many guys went before him, but I’m a pony. Just sayin’. The screen shows a close-up of the dog’s dick easing out of her – criminy, she took that thing up the butt!?

I clench down on the doc’s fingers involuntarily, and just as the dog’s dick leaves the filly’s tight littls asshole the doc’s fingers leave mine, and when the dog steps aside, well, I guess it wasn’t a filly after all. The dog’s load oozes out of that winking hole and drools down a big ol’ pair of horse balls.?
Hey, no biggie. I’m a 21st-century guy, my roommate’s queer, and we all get curious in high school. Ain’t the first time gay porn I’ve seen and I’m not gonna flip out about it.

Doc Daniels is into dudes? No big deal.?What is a big deal is when the doc reaches under the cloth of the metal tray and pulls out a bright red ball gag with black leather straps. Before I can turn around the big stag just up and leans down on my back, keeping me bent over, and my indignant shout’s quickly muffled by the rubber ball he’s stuffing into my muzz with his KY-slick fingers.?

Hey man. Stop that. That’s what goes through y head. Hey, uncool. Stop, okay? Like that. I can actually hear myself thinking those words with a stoner’s slur. What’s wrong with me? What the hell was in that shot he gave me??

“Comfortable?” the doc asks, pushing himself up off me, and I kiiiiinda want to get up off the examination table and unstrap the ball gag from my snout and report the doc to the Dean’s office, but that just seems like way too much effort right now. I actually am pretty comfortable on the table. Hey, the horse dude in the porno’s lying on an identical table. What are the odds of that??

He’s even got the same kind of red ball gag in his muzzle.?“Now that we’ve reviewed yesterday’s results…” the stag says as the screen cuts to a black title card that reads Subject #006 – Quinn G. – 2 September, 6:25 PM, and pulls the cloth off the tray. Hee, that’s a colorful bunch of dildos right there. “…it’s time to prepare you for today’s session. Blink twice if you’d like me to ask the volunteers to use condoms this time, okay?”
~
It’s dark outside when he carries me back to my bed. Whatever it was that made me feel so groovy has worn off. I’m sore all over, I’m red-cheeked and blue-balled and if I could just get my arms and legs to co-operate I’d wrestle out of the doc’s grip, kick him in the shin and run to the goddamn police as fast as my weak-ass legs could carry me.?

He throws me on the bed like a sack of potatoes, straightens me out face-down – he pulls a Kleenex out of the box on the little desk by the window and gives another quick scrub between my buns to clean up any last drizzle of semen that might have leaked out of me.?
I can only move my eyes, and I’ve never wanted laser-vision more in my life, just so I could burn the damn antlers off his rapist head.?“Oh, don’t be upset, Quinn. You should be proud! The drug trials were a complete success,” he says, sitting on the side of my bed, stroking my mane. He pulls another syringe from his pocket and jabs it into my buttock, still a little chafed from the doc’s zipper after he sent the guys home.?

He caps the syringe, stuffs it in his pocket, and pulls out a little tube with a narrow tip, picking the piece of paper up off my desk. “Substance 221-C indeed reduces inhibition and improves compliance,” he says, dabbing the tip of the tube onto the edge of the paper. “And substance 313–4-A effectively suppresses traumatic memory. Now sleep tight,” he says, and glues the August 9 page back on my tear-away calendar.?

“Tomorrow’s a big day.”
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