Iris nodded quickly, feeling a surge of relief mixed with embarrassment at the thought of such a procedure. "Now, for the next part of the exam," Sally said, her voice still firm, "I need you to provide a urine sample."

The young redhead felt a flash of mortification, but she knew she had to go through with it. She stepped aside, allowing the nurse to access the stirrups attached to the examination table. "Please, sit down," the nurse instructed, gesturing to the chair next to the table. Iris complied, her knees shaking slightly as she settled into the cold plastic chair. The nurse handed her a small plastic cup with a lid. "You know what to do," she said. "It has to be an observed sample."

Iris took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of her bare skin against the chair. She placed the cup between her legs, her heart racing as she felt the warmth of her urine filling it. Her mind raced with the thought that the nurse would be watching her, inspecting her urine. It was so degrading, yet she couldn't deny the strange thrill that coursed through her body. She felt a warm flush of arousal as she finished and handed the cup back to Sally.

The nurse took the sample without looking at her, her eyes focused on the cup. "Thank you," she said, placing it on the tray with the same detached efficiency she had shown throughout the examination.

"Now, Iris, let's get your height and weight," Sally instructed, gesturing to the scale and the measuring tape. Iris stepped onto the scale, her stomach churning with anxiety as the numbers flickered into place. She had always been self-conscious about her weight, and the cold, unfeeling digital readout seemed to echo her fears back at her. "One fifty-four," Sally announced, jotting down the number.

The nurse then took the tape measure and began to wrap it around her chest, just under her breasts. "Breathe in," she instructed, and Iris did as she was told. The tape tightened, the coldness of the metal pressing into her flesh, and she felt the nurse's eyes on her as she took the measurement. "Thirty-eight inches," she said, sounding a little surprised. "Very nice, you've got a good set of lungs on you."

Next, Sally moved down to her waist. "And now, let's see..." she murmured, wrapping the tape around the soft flesh of Iris's stomach. "Thirty-four," she said with a slight nod, her eyes moving over the curves of Iris's body with a clinical gaze. "Hips?" she asked, and Iris felt the tape slide over her skin again, the nurse's fingers firm as they held the tape in place. "Forty-two," she recorded.

The last measurement was the most embarrassing for Iris. Sally took the tape and wrapped it around her thighs. "Hmm," she said, her voice a mix of amazement and disapproval. "Thirty inches."

Iris felt a stab of shame, her cheeks burning even hotter than before. She knew she wasn't the thinnest girl around, but to have it pointed out so bluntly by the nurse was humiliating. The nurse made a note on her clipboard, her expression stern. "You'll have time to discuss this with the doctor shortly."

The room felt even smaller than before as the nurse's eyes lingered on her thighs. Iris felt like she was being judged, her body laid bare and found wanting. Yet, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the idea of having to work on her body, to be scrutinized and corrected by the doctor and the nurse. It was as if she were being claimed by them, made to conform to their standards of perfection.

Iris felt a strange sense of submission as the nurse took her measurements, her body being assessed and cataloged. The nurse's touch was firm and impersonal, yet it sent a thrill through her that she couldn't quite explain. She knew she was being objectified, reduced to a collection of numbers and curves, but there was something about it that she found undeniably erotic.

Moving on to the next part of the examination, Nurse Carlton wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Iris's upper arm. "Now, I need you to be very still," she said, her voice calm and soothing despite the tension in the room. The cuff tightened, squeezing her arm with a gentle, rhythmic pressure that seemed to echo the throb between her legs. The nurse listened intently to the stethoscope, her eyes focused on the gauge as the numbers rose and fell. "Your blood pressure is normal," she announced, the cuff releasing with a hiss of air.

Next, she took Iris's hand in hers, her grip firm and warm as she searched for a vein. Iris felt a rush of anticipation, her heart racing as the nurse found what she was looking for and prepped the area with an alcohol swab. The needle pierced her skin, and she watched in fascination as a bead of blood welled up and grew, the nurse deftly inserting it into a small vial. The sensation was surprisingly erotic, the pinch of pain followed by the warmth of her blood flowing out of her body and into the clear glass.

The nurse's eyes remained on the vial as it filled, her movements precise and calculated. She finished drawing the blood, the vial now a dark crimson, and applied a band-aid to the tiny wound. "Good girl," she murmured, patting Iris's hand gently. The praise was unexpected, and it sent a warm shiver down Iris's spine. She felt like she had passed some kind of test, that she had done something right despite her embarrassment.

The nurse then instructed Iris to lie back down on the table, her heart racing as she anticipated what was to come next. The doctor would be here soon, and she knew the real examination was about to begin. She couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and excitement, her body aching for the attention of the stern, intimidating Dr. Wilson. What would he do to her? Would he be as thorough as the nurse, or would he push her even further? Iris took a deep breath and tried to steady herself, her mind racing with possibilities as she waited, her naked body exposed and vulnerable.