Burning Sensations by matt burns Knock. Knock. Click. Turn. Squeak. The door opens ajar and Dr. Kim pokes his head into the bright, fluorescently-lit room. “Mr. Hillard???” The doctor is a young Asian with thick, dark hair and glasses...somewhat fresh out of Harvard medical school (as the credentials on the wall seem to indicate). A stethoscope dangles from his neck and he wears a white smock, or whatever you call those shirts doctors wear. A variety of prescription-writing pens poke their heads out of the smock’s front chest pocket, along with one of those thin flashlight thingys used to analyze throats. “Yes,” says Sammy, sitting on a stool in the far corner of the room. He has a short, brown haircut with boyish looks, though his eyes look glassy and very stressed. He’s wearing nothing on his bony body except a worn-out johnny that is poorly tied in the back because nobody really knows how to tie those damn things, anyway. If there was one word to describe Sammy’s aura at the given moment it would be ‘sheepish’...yes, sheepish energy is what he exudes. Almost to the point of looking shameful. Yes, shameful. “Hi, I’m Doctor Kim,” says the doctor as he slips into the room, quickly shutting the door behind him and forcing a comforting smile onto his face. Sammy swears he sees a brief millisecond of hesitation before the doctor holds out his hand for a shake. He knows why this might be the case. He can just hear the doctor’s thoughts being voiced inside his mind: ‘Based on this man’s symptoms, he is a dirty bastard whom I would rather not shake the hand of.’ ‘Well, don’t shake my fucking hand, then!’ Sammy wants to shout, but he keeps these words to himself and politely shakes the doctor’s hand anyway. “How are ya?” asks Dr. Kim, with a slight nervous crack in his voice. “Um...good.” “Oh, I mean, given the situation.” “I’m as good as I could be.” Sammy knows why Dr. Kim may be a little nervous. Based on the symptoms at hand, the doctor probably knows that a good molesting of Sammy’s pecker will be in order. This is an undeniable fact. Other doctors from Sammy’s past never seemed to care much about doing something like this, but Kim seems young and relatively knew to the field. He’s probably only analyzed a small number of cocks in his time. Yes, it’s still a procedure that makes him uneasy. Who wouldn’t be? “Yeah, so what’s going on, Sammy?” asks Kim, though Sammy knows the doctor knows full-well what’s going on. Like the nurse practitioner who took Sammy’s urine sample didn’t already give Kim the run-down only minutes earlier. ‘Yes, Dr. Kim...the man in room B...careful of that one...he’s a dirty bastard who’s been around, if you know what I mean.’ Yes, the nurse undoubtedly already told Kim the 411. But Kim apparently wants to hear it in Sammy’s own words. “I’ve got...um...inflammation...in the groin area.” “It burns?” Sammy wanted to avoid the use of such terminology, probably as a way to convince himself that he may not have what he more than likely has. “Yes...it burns,” he reluctantly admits. “When you pee?” “Well, not just when I pee. Well, yesterday it burned more when I peed, but today there’s more like a consistent burning...at all times.” ‘Yes, it doesn’t just burn when I pee,’ he realizes, so maybe he doesn’t have what he thinks he has after all. Maybe it’s just a bladder infection or a classic UTI. Certainly this could be the case. “Could be a bladder infection or something like that...” suggests Sammy, hoping he can possibly persuade Kim into agreeing. “Yeah...hmmm...any pain up here?” asks Kim, pointing to Sammy’s lower abdominal area. “You know...above the pubic area?” “No. No.” “Anything else bothering you?” “No. I feel fine otherwise.” And this latter remark is probably the truth. Sure, he may be a little more fatigued than usual, but this is probably due to the stress of thinking about having what he more than likely has. “All right, why don’t you hop up onto the table here and I’ll check you out.” “Oh. OK.” Sammy, of course, knows that when Dr. Kim says ‘I’ll check you out’ he really means ‘I’ll molest your cock.’ But he hops up onto the observation table, anyway. Yes, he’s got to go through with this. The alternative is a bullet in his head, which seemed appealing last night because he just didn’t want to deal with this shit. But suicide doesn’t seem like such a rational move today. Hopefully a good old-fashioned cock molestation is all he’s going to have to endure. Yes, just a brief feel of the cock and then maybe some antibiotics and then ‘I’ll get the hell out of here’, he thinks. Certainly he can handle that. “OK, let’s have a look at ya...” says Kim. Sammy lies belly-up on the observation table and stares at the fluorescent lighting fixture on the sterile ceiling above. He’s not particularly certain, but he has the feeling his unit is at turtle-in-a-shell status. For some reason, whenever he goes to the doctor his cock becomes so damn small. Fuck, it retreats so far back that it looks like it never even got circumcised. For a moment, Sammy thinks about possibly allowing some sexual thoughts to infiltrate his mind - maybe a boob or a nipple or some shower sex or at least a dry hump - just so more blood can get into his unit and make it look a tad larger. But he ultimately decides against doing so, just in case he got an accidental boner in the process. That would make the situation even more awkward for sure. “Any new sex partners lately?” Boom! There it is! Holy crap! Sammy knew this question was coming, but he still finds himself both caught off guard by it and also unprepared to answer it. He was basically hoping that he could use the term ‘bladder infection’ as code for what he more than likely has. “Yes, Doc, I think I may have a bladder infection, nudge-nudge wink-wink. And when I say bladder infection, of course what I really mean is that I have, indeed, been having sexual relations with a new girl and, yes, this new girl is a dirty little whore who only did stuff with me because she does stuff with everybody.” Oh, if only Kim could read Sammy’s mind...he wouldn’t have to go into all the awkward details! “Um...yes. There has been a new girl.” “Using condoms?” “Um...yes...well, hmmmm...see, no. Ok, see, this is the thing: there hasn’t been any...um...intercourse yet. But there has been some...uh...oral stuff.” It’s the truth. A simple blow-job is what brought Sammy onto this observation table today. “Ok,” says Kim. “If you could just do me a favor and pull your shorts down for me.” ‘Ladies and Gentlemen! Let the molestation begin!!!’ Sammy reaches down to his waist area and clasps the elastic to his Fruit of the Loom drawers. Of course he’s gone through these motions before (God knows how many physicals he’s had), but he still always finds it weird to be pulling down his skivvies in front of a man. ‘I don’t want to fucking do this!’ he screams to himself, but he knows he has to do it anyway. ‘Man up, Sammy. Buy yourself an ice cream later as a reward. OK, will do.’ He lets out a silent sigh and pulls the drawers all the way down to his ankles as quickly as he possibly can...like a Band Aid. Without much hesitation, Dr. Kim starts cupping Sammy’s balls and stretching his scrotum into various contortions. The doctor tries to keep a stoic, “professional” face while he does this, but Sammy can see the doctor’s thoughts running across his eyeballs like one of those digital billboards in Time’s Square: “Holy shit! And I thought I had a fucking small cock!” “Do you have any rashes anywhere?” asks Kim as he analyzes the back of Sammy’s sack. “No.” “Where, exactly, does it burn? Is it at the tip of your penis?” Penis! Agh! How Sammy hates that word! It sounds like ‘peanuts’ and Sammy’s allergic to peanuts, so maybe it’s through the associative property that he hates ‘penis’. “Well, it’s...it kinda moves around...” Sammy knows Dr. Kim’s setting a trap for him. If he says a straight-forward ‘yes’ to the ‘tip of the penis’ question, the doctor’s going to immediately be thinking about a certain disease that Sammy would prefer not to mention right now. Sammy did some research online beforehand. He’s no dummy. Who does this doctor think he’s fucking talking to? He’s gonna have to try a lot harder than that! “Sometimes it’s in the - what do you call it? - the urethra. Then, sometimes it moves further back, almost in my...uh...my prostrate I think it is.” Ha! Try to diagnose that shit, you fuck! “Your prostate?” “Prostate. Yes.” Sammy suddenly notices a change in Kim’s eyes that unsettles him in the most major of ways. It’s the look of a red flag...but not literally, of course. What he’s trying to get at here is that Kim seems slightly more nervous now, which is odd, because Sammy would have though that the worst was over. Hell, the balls are on the fucking table already...so what else is there to be concerned about, Kim?! Could this increase in nervousness be a sign of even worse things to come??? Such a question haunts Sammy’s mind in a terrible way, just as Kim starts pressing down (rather forcefully) on Sammy’s shaft. “Any tenderness in the testicles or scrotum?” “No.” “Ok, that’s a good sign.” Good sign? How so? Is it a good sign in the sense that ‘Well, you’re not going to die tomorrow’? Or in the sense that ‘No, you don’t have what you think you have’? “OK, I’m just going to go ahead and culture this.” “OK,” says Sammy, not really knowing what the hell the doctor is talking about. Dr. Kim turns towards his drawers of supplies in the corner of the room and rips open a package of cotton-tipped sticks that are about the same size and width of chopsticks. Sammy doesn’t like the looks of these things at all. Instinctively, he knows that there is something horrible about to go down, but his mind is too caught off guard to consciously know what, exactly, is going to happen. “I apologize in advance for how this is going to feel,” says Kim. “Um...uh...” “This is never a very pleasant experience.” “Uh...” And before Sammy can even ask what’s about to be done to him, the unthinkable happens. ‘Holy fuckin’ shit!’ Sammy wants to shout, but he miraculously manages to restrain himself. Instead, he just lets out a muffled... “Umph.” After a few moments of chaos and overall confusion, Sammy finally manages to process what is happening to him. Dr. Kim is actually shoving that fuckin’ chopstick halfway down his penis-hole. It’s really happening right now. This is not a hallucination. This shit is really going down. Wow! Sammy squirms around the observation table like an earthworm that has just been severed in half. Dr. Kim’s got that goddamn chopstick just about three quarters of the way down his shaft right now! ‘Oh, God, this is wrong!’ Sammy thinks to himself. Like, in a moral sense, he means. He feels raped. Violated. ‘This is against God’s will!’ The penis hole is simply not meant to be violated in such a way. It’s one orifice of the male body that should never have anything shoved down it. This is definitely contrary to God’s grand design or whatever. God does NOT want this to be happening right now. ‘All this for a fucking blowjob,’ Sammy can’t help but remind himself. God forbid Sammy get a little action here and there. That dirty bitch was only the third girl he ever hooked up with. Hell, he should’ve just fucked the girl! At least that would have made this procedure just a little more worthwhile (if that’s even the slightest bit possible). All right, maybe that’s going too far. It was probably best he didn’t fuck her. And of course when he says ‘fuck’ he really means ‘make love’. Sammy really isn’t that fresh of a person. Sometimes he says things - like ‘fuck’ and ‘bitch’ or whatever - that don’t really correspond to what he’s feeling inside, in his heart and soul and what-not. He’s a good man, for Christ’s sake. Really, he is. Anyway, after what seems like an absolute fucking eternity, Dr. Kim pulls the chopstick out of Sammy’s penis and slides the so-called “culture” into a plastic baggy to be shipped off to the lab. “All right, we’re good,” says Kim, looking a little bit more relieved than he was before, but not completely relieved. As for Sammy, the poor bastard is frozen with shock on the observation table. He still can’t believe what happened to him. Dr. Kim has just shoved a chopstick down his goddamn penis-hole. This definitely just happened. It’s so wrong. It’s so very wrong. Better yet, this is unnatural. ‘Tis unnatural! “OK, now I’m gonna need to check out your prostate,” says Kim. For some reason, the phrase ‘check your prostate’ doesn’t alarm Sammy at first. Perhaps his mind is still on the fact that he just had the unthinkable done to his pecker. Or perhaps he just doesn’t yet realize what ‘checking out the prostate’ actually entails. “So just turn on your side...yep...and pull your knees towards your chest...that’s good.” It’s at about this point when the reality of the situation hits Sammy like a sack of cinder blocks. ‘Oh shit!’ he wants to scream. ‘This is when they do THAT thing. I’ve seen this in the movies and in the TV shows. The doctor slaps on the rubber gloves and puts on a smirk and then shoves his fist up the poop chute. No wonder why Dr. Kim has been looking so unsettled in the face!’ Sure enough, Kim slaps a rubber glove onto his right hand and squirts his index/middle fingers with some lubrication of some sort - maybe it’s just Petroleum Jelly or Jergens, but Sammy isn’t sure. All Sammy can be sure of is that - woosh! - Dr. Kim has just shoved two fingers up his ass. “Umph.” Yes, Sammy has seen plenty of scenes in a movie or on TV where a doctor would shove his fist up a patient’s ass. But that was different. The whole procedure was treated in a comical manner. Haha. Look at that doctor shove his fist up the patient’s ass! Haha. Haha. Look at that poor bastard have his ass violated. Haha. Haha. But now it’s happening in Sammy’s reality...in Sammy’s ass! And it’s not the least bit comical. ‘Man, Dr. Kim is going to fucking town in there,’ Sammy can’t help but comment to himself. He’s twiddling his fingers around like he’s trying to massage a G-spot or something. What perversion. So gross. So wrong. So contrary to God’s will. Sammy realizes he’ll never be able to walk in public the same way again. Not because he just got a finger jammed up his ass. Not because of the shame of having his ass-cherry popped, either. But because of the thought that somewhere out there...maybe just around the corner...there is a man (Dr. Kim) who has fingered his asshole. Yes, a man...out there...has had his fingers up Sammy’s asshole. Sammy suspects that the way he feels right now is probably not unlike how a woman feels after getting raped, especially if that woman was previously a virgin. He feels so damn violated and dirty. From this day forward, Sammy will have to go through life knowing there is a man out there - potentially lurking around every corner - who stole his dignity from him. It’s something that will be gone forever. He’ll never get the dignity back. Yes, this MUST be how rape victims feel. Sammy, again, can’t help but remind himself that this is all happening because of a seemingly innocent blowjob. God forbid he have a blowjob for once in his life! He used to be a virgin if you can believe it. Well, that is, he was a virgin up until not too long ago. He wanted to save himself. Find true love first, get married...like the guy in the PG movie everybody's rooting for. But that was all bullshit, he realized. All the girls he dated thought a 25-year-old virgin was a fucking weirdo...that he must be a creep or something. So he had to play the game. Build up his resume, so to speak. Hook up with as many girls as possible. Start with the ugly ones and work his way up to the more attractive ones. This was what would make him more appealing to the opposite sex, he learned. That’s just the way it was. Jesus Christ, Dr. Kim is still fingering down there, Sammy realizes. Now he’s doing the ‘come hither’ motions with his fingers for reasons that don’t seem necessary. This is all so unnatural and against what God desires. But, yes, true love. That’s all Sammy wanted. How the hell did he go from the 25 year-old virgin to the dude getting his ass fingered on an observation table? How could this have happened? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. The hand he was dealt was supposed to be better. When he was young and dreamt of his future, he never saw himself in the doctor’s office getting his pee hole violated and his ass fingered. He saw himself living with his soul mate in a nice house...two cars...couple of sweet kids...vacations down on Cape Cod...you know the story. Surely this is the media’s fault! Everybody’s always jumping into bed with one another! Nobody ever wears condoms or worries about STDs or even pregnancy! All Sammy did was do what everyone else was doing. But look where it got him!!! “Prostate feels ok,” says Dr. Kim as he finally pulls his fingers out of Sammy’s asshole. “Oh. Good.” The doctor peels the latex glove off his hand and disposes it into the garbage - not the biohazard bin, which Sammy feels would probably be a better place for it. “Well, we have your samples, so we’ll go ahead and culture those. See if any bacteria turns up. It’ll be a couple of days before we know anything.” “Ok.” “I don’t see any reason why you can’t go ahead and get dressed,” says Kim as he makes a quick exit from the room, as though he couldn’t fucking wait to get the hell out of there. “Great. Thanks.” Sammy is now relieved the worst is over, though still distressed from knowing he probably has what he most likely has. Fuck it, he’ll say the word: gonorrhea. Gono-fucking-rrhea! All right, you happy? Gonorrhea!!! He swings his legs to the floor and waddles over to the corner of the room where his pile of clothes are. He looks like a prisoner who has just been ass-raped in the shower. Then again, he basically HAS just been ass-raped. What a crazy thought, but it’s basically true. My, how times have changed! It was only a couple years ago when Sammy would have a physical and feel like a pathetic loser when the doctor would ask if he was sexually active and he would reluctantly answer ‘no’. But now that the answer is ‘yes’, he wishes it were ‘no’. He felt like a loser then, but now he feels like a dirty little slut. Oh, how Sammy longs for those innocent days as a virgin! Those were days when he didn’t have a chopstick down his penis and a finger up his ass. Then again, those were also days where he had no woman in his life whatsoever. He was miserable and lonely. He wanted to die. Suicidal thoughts were not uncommon. “What was worse?” he wonders. He mulls this question over in his head as he leaves the doctor’s office, hops in his car and drives past a nearby playground with several children playing. Oh, what Sammy would give to be one of those children playing on the swings on a warm July day. Those kiddies don’t have to worry about virginity and making themselves more desirable and ‘building a resume’ and getting horrible burning sensations... ...yet. THE END