Connor Douglas pulled his truck into the parking lot of the small Medical Now clinic in Lahaina, Maui, on a warm afternoon in late summer. The sky stretched out in a clear blue expanse, interrupted only by a few soft white clouds. In the distance, the rhythmic crash of ocean waves against the shore created a peaceful atmosphere. At 26 years old, Connor carried himself with a quiet assurance. His blond hair, touched by the sun, fell in gentle waves above his forehead. His face held striking features: a strong jawline, bright blue eyes, and a smile that revealed faint dimples. These traits had helped him navigate high school and college with ease. He had earned a degree in environmental science from the University of Hawaii. Now, he had secured a position with Maui County as a parks maintenance worker. The job suited him well. It involved clearing trails, planting native plants, maintaining picnic spots, and keeping the island's natural areas beautiful for visitors and residents. The work promised fresh air, physical challenges, and a way to protect the land he loved.

Yet his expecting wife Emily opened a letter from Maui County saying his new position required one more condition: a complete physical examination. This check would confirm that Connor could handle the job's demands, such as lifting heavy loads, hiking over rough ground, and working in varying weather. Connor wore his usual loose-fitting clothes. A large black hoodie hung over his body, hiding his fit frame. Baggy cargo pants covered his strong legs, and he finished the outfit with comfortable sneakers. He expected the visit to be simple - perhaps a quick measurement of his blood pressure, a few basic tests, and questions about his health history. He did not realize that the appointment would extend into the evening. It would uncover deep layers of vulnerability. The experience would bring feelings of embarrassment and discomfort that he had never prepared for.

The clinic was a simple one-story structure. Its blue paint had faded slightly under the tropical sun. Palm trees and vibrant hibiscus plants surrounded it. Inside, the waiting room felt basic. Vinyl chairs lined the walls. A low table held old magazines about Hawaiian traditions and wellness advice. Posters on the walls reminded visitors to use sunscreen and avoid mosquito bites. The air conditioner hummed steadily, cooling the space against the outdoor heat. Connor approached the front desk. The receptionist, a kind woman in her fifties named Maria, greeted him with a warm smile. She passed him a clipboard full of forms. "Mr. Rivera will see you soon. He is a family nurse practitioner, but everyone here calls him Alex. You are the last patient today, so there is no hurry." Maria collected her purse and keys while Connor completed the paperwork. "I am leaving early for a family dinner. Alex can manage from here. Congratulations on the new job. Maui County is fortunate to have someone like you." She waved as she departed, leaving Connor by himself in the quiet room.

He leafed through a magazine about local surf spots. His thoughts drifted to plans for the weekend. Then, the door to the examination room opened with a soft creak. "Connor Douglas?" The voice came from Alex Rivera, a 26-year-old family nurse practitioner of Caucasian and Hawaiian descent. Alex had an ordinary look. Faint scars from teenage acne dotted his face. His brown hair thinned a bit at the temples, making him appear older than his years. His body was of average build, neither strong nor frail. He wore green scrubs beneath a white coat. A stethoscope hung around his neck. Alex had committed himself to nursing. He had studied hard at a university on the mainland. After that, he returned to Hawaii to complete his certification as a nurse practitioner. In social settings, he had often stayed on the edges. He was the intelligent student who assisted with assignments but rarely joined group outings to the beach or parties. Men like Connor, with their charm and physical appeal, had been part of a world Alex observed from a distance. In his role as a practitioner, however, Alex felt a quiet authority. He guided patients through personal health assessments. These moments created an unexpected balance in power.

"Please come inside," Alex said. He motioned toward the examination room. The space was practical and small. A padded table sat in the center, covered with a roll of fresh white paper. A desk held a computer screen. A sink stood nearby with soap dispensers. Cabinets on the wall stored supplies. A stool on wheels allowed Alex to adjust his height. A window faced the parking lot, where Connor's truck rested under a plumeria tree. Blinds softened the late afternoon light. The air carried a clean scent of antiseptic, mixed with a subtle lavender from a wall plug-in freshener.

Connor settled into a chair for patients. He crossed his legs in a relaxed way. Alex sat at the desk and opened the electronic health record on the screen. "We will begin with the fundamentals. You are six feet tall and weigh 180 pounds. That is a healthy build for your size. Your vital signs are strong: blood pressure at 118 over 76, heart rate at 72 beats per minute, and temperature normal. Now, let us discuss your family history. Are there any inherited conditions to note? For example, heart disease, diabetes, or cancers? I pay close attention to issues specific to men, such as problems with the prostate, testicles, or reproductive system in your relatives."

Connor answered at first with ease. His family enjoyed good health overall. His father, in his late fifties, stayed active. He managed occasional high blood pressure through diet and exercise. His grandfather on his father's side had lived to an old age but passed due to general age-related issues. No major diseases like cancer appeared in the records. Alex entered the details carefully, nodding as he listened. Then, he shifted to more personal topics without pause. "Now, we turn to your own health, with emphasis on sexual and reproductive matters. For this type of employment, we must confirm there are no hidden concerns that might arise during work. In the past twelve months, how many sexual partners have you had? Have there been any times without protection? Have you experienced erectile difficulties, early completion during intercourse, pain while having sex, or unusual signs like swelling or discharge?"

The questions surprised Connor. A flush crept into his cheeks. He uncrossed his legs and shifted in his seat. He had dated a few women during college. Nothing too serious. He always used protection. But speaking about it openly, especially to this unfamiliar man, felt too revealing. "Just one partner - my wife. Rarely with a condom. No problems," he replied. His voice dropped lower than normal. In his mind, he wondered why the exam needed to go this far. He had imagined a brief check, not this level of detail.

Alex pressed on without hesitation. "Do you check your testicles for changes each month? Have you had any sexually transmitted infections? Is your interest in sex steady? Do you have worries about fertility or performance during intimacy?" The inquiries continued, each one adding to Connor's growing unease. He responded in short phrases. His hands gripped each other in his lap. He longed to move past this section. Alex noticed the tension but kept a professional tone. Inside, he observed how this confident young man showed signs of strain under the questions. Their ages were close, yet their lives had followed different paths. That contrast held a quiet interest for Alex.

With the history finished, Alex rose and approached a side table. A white cloth covered its contents. He lifted the cloth slowly. Beneath it lay an array of tools: a shiny stethoscope, an ear examination device with new tips, a small hammer for reflexes, boxes of blue and white gloves, a large jar of petroleum jelly, clear cups for samples, cotton swabs, wooden sticks for the mouth, and a flashlight for close looks. The setup resembled a page from a medical guide. It seemed far more involved than Connor had expected.

Connor leaned forward in his chair. His blue eyes grew wide. "Is all of this for my examination?" he asked. A note of concern entered his voice. He studied the items, trying to guess their uses.

Alex turned with a steady smile. His own pulse quickened slightly at the thought of what lay ahead. "Yes, it is. The policy from Maui County requires a full physical for new employees in active roles. We will review every part of your body: the nervous system, heart and blood vessels, lungs, digestive tract, muscles and bones, and the urinary and reproductive systems. That includes a close look at your genitals, testicles, and a rectal check of the prostate. The goal is to make sure you are in top shape and to spot any early signs of trouble. It is better to know now than later."

Connor swallowed. His face lost a bit of color. This went beyond his simple expectations. It promised to be detailed and deeply private. "I did not expect it to be so complete," he said. His words stayed even, but his thoughts swirled with doubt. He pictured having to undress and allow this man access to every part of him. The idea filled him with reluctance.

To start, Alex pointed to a folding screen in the corner. It provided a space to change. "Please go behind the screen. Take off all your clothes, including your underwear and socks. Then, put on this gown. It fastens at the back." He handed Connor a thin blue paper gown. It felt fragile, as if it might rip easily.

Connor stepped behind the screen. He began with his hoodie, lifting it over his head. In the tight area, his elbow bumped the frame. The screen wobbled. Then, it toppled over with a loud clang, falling flat on the floor. Connor stood still, his t-shirt only halfway removed. It exposed a strip of his firm stomach muscles. He tried to lift the screen, but the joints had bent. It would not stand upright. "The screen fell down," he called out. Embarrassment warmed his voice. He tugged his shirt back into place, feeling half-exposed already.

Alex walked over to inspect. "That is no issue. It is an old piece. I will lean it against the wall for now. You will need to finish changing here, near the table. It is only us, and I will stack your clothes neatly on this chair." He propped the screen as promised.

Connor paused, scanning the room for another choice. Undressing in the open made him feel bare. With no other way, he continued. He removed the hoodie completely. It revealed wide shoulders and a chest shaped by exercise and outdoor life. Alex turned to his notes but glanced over. He thought about how this man hid such a strong form under loose clothes. It was an unexpected discovery.

Next, Connor pulled off his t-shirt. His upper body came into view: well-defined chest muscles from surfing and weights, a flat stomach with clear lines of strength, and a thin line of blond hair trailing from his belly button downward. His skin held an even tan, marked only by faint lines from swim shorts. Alex folded the shirt with care. In his mind, he noted the flawless shape and smooth texture.

Connor kicked off his sneakers and peeled away his socks. Then, he undid his pants and slid them down. They exposed thick thighs and calves, built from trail walks on Maui's rugged paths and paddling in the ocean. He stood in gray briefs. The fabric outlined a full package below. Alex considered the shape. It hinted at generous size.

Connor reached for the gown. It proved too short for his tall frame. It ended midway down his thighs, leaving his legs uncovered. "You must remove the underwear too, for a full check," Alex said plainly.

With a deep breath, Connor turned his back a little. He slipped off the briefs and passed them to Alex. In that instant, before the gown settled, a glimpse appeared: his penis and scrotum, soft but substantial. The gown hid them quickly. Alex placed the underwear on the stack. He anticipated the proper inspection ahead.

The gown's ties tangled in Connor's fingers. They were short and slick. "Need help?" Alex offered. He moved behind Connor to tie them. As he worked, the fabric gaped open at the back for a second. It revealed firm, rounded buttocks. Each cheek held a small dimple. They looked toned and balanced. Alex secured the ties. In his thoughts, he admired the view. As someone overlooked by men like Connor in his younger days, this shift in roles carried a spark of excitement.

Now covered, Connor sat on the table. The paper rustled beneath him. Alex started at the top. He examined Connor's head and neck. Using the ear tool, he checked the eyes. The corneas looked clear. The pupils responded to light. "Look left, then right, up, and down," Alex directed. His face drew near. Connor caught the fresh mint scent of his breath. The closeness felt strange but bearable. During this close inspection of Connor's face, a flicker of recognition stirred in Alex. The sharp jawline, the piercing blue eyes—they belonged to CJ, the football and baseball star from high school, grades nine through eleven. Alex had been the quiet, heavier-set kid in their shared classes. Connor had been polite during one science project pairing, but afterward, he offered only hallway nods. No real words exchanged beyond that. Alex had not recognized the name at first—Connor James had become simply Connor. And time had only enhanced his appeal. Alex kept the realization to himself for now, his pulse quickening at the irony.

The ears came next. No buildup or signs of infection appeared. Alex inspected the nose and throat with a light and a wooden stick. Connor gagged a touch on the stick. He coughed once, a small moment of awkwardness.

Lower down, Alex loosened the gown's front to uncover the chest. "We will check the heart, blood vessels, and lungs now. Breathe in a normal rhythm." The stethoscope's metal end felt cold against Connor's skin. He flinched at first. Alex listened to the heart. The beats stayed regular, with no extra sounds. The lungs cleared on both sides. He followed with a light press over the chest muscles. This included the areas around the nipples. "I am looking for any unusual tissue growth. It is uncommon in men, but we follow the steps." His gloved fingers moved in small circles near each nipple, feeling for firmness or sensitivity. The check ended soon. Connor felt a mild unease. He wondered why the focus lingered there, even briefly.

For the abdomen, Alex asked Connor to lie flat on his back. He opened the gown fully over the upper body but placed a small drape sheet across the groin area. This kept the private parts hidden for now. Connor's toned stomach lay exposed. The muscles tightened under the air. Alex pressed into different sections of the belly. He searched for swollen organs or sore spots. He tapped lightly with his fingers to hear the sounds. Then, he used the stethoscope again for gut noises. The process lasted a few minutes. Alex's hands traveled over the firm skin. Connor lay still, but the exposure made him aware of every touch.

After testing the arms and legs—joints moved freely, reflexes snapped back quickly—Alex paused. The general checks had concluded. It was time for the more intimate portions. Fresh gloves on, Alex removed the drape. "For the urinary and reproductive check, please stand and let the gown drop entirely." Connor rose. The paper gown pooled at his feet. He stood naked under the room's steady lights. This marked the first full view for Alex. Connor's penis hung uncircumcised, about four and a half inches soft, with a thickness that promised more when erect. The foreskin draped over the head smoothly. Veins traced the shaft lightly—a thick one along the top and finer lines below. The skin looked velvety, pink near the tip, fading to a warmer tone at the base, nestled in a dense bush of curly blond pubic hair. Below, the scrotum dangled loose in the warm air. Each testicle filled the space like a large egg, covered in sparse blond hairs. The left one sat a touch lower, a natural difference. The whole form spoke of health and strength, matching his active life.

Before beginning, Alex decided to share his realization. It added a layer to the moment, especially now, with Connor so exposed. "By the way, Connor—or should I say CJ? Connor James? We went to high school together. Grades nine through eleven. I was Alex Rivera, the guy in your science class that one week we got paired up for the project on ecosystems. You were nice about it, even chatted a bit while we worked on the poster. After that, just those quick nods in the hall. I didn't put it together until I was checking your face earlier. Crazy how paths cross like this. I'm 26 now, same as you."

Connor blinked, the words landing like a distant echo. CJ? High school? He searched his memory. Science project... yeah, vaguely. A quiet kid, heavier back then, helpful with the diagrams. But conversations? He could not recall much beyond basic politeness. Nothing stood out—no laughs shared, no inside jokes. Alex had faded into the background of jocks and classes. And now, this same Alex—thinner, scarred, unremarkable—stood here, authority in hand. The timing hit Connor oddly. Naked, vulnerable, about to undergo the most private scrutiny. His mind reeled in disbelief. This guy from the periphery, whom he had barely acknowledged, was moments from touching him in ways no one else had. Not even his pregnant wife, in her tender explorations, had probed so clinically. What would his old teammates think? The star athlete laid bare for the nerd they overlooked.

Alex continued seamlessly, his voice steady as if the revelation were casual. "Anyway, with that history out of the way, let me explain what comes next in this genitourinary exam. It's thorough because your job demands it—ensuring no issues that could sideline you. I'll start with a careful visual inspection of your penis from all angles, then hands-on: I'll grasp the shaft, lift and roll it to feel for any fibrosis or bends, retract the foreskin to check the head and opening for cleanliness or discharge. I will then examine along the length of your penis to map the veins and inner firmness. For the hernia check, I'll insert a finger into each groin canal, ask you to cough repeatedly, pressing deep to detect weaknesses; it might brush your scrotum, but that's part of confirming stability. Then the testicular exam: I'll cup and lift your balls, isolating each one to roll and squeeze thoroughly—front and back—for lumps, swelling in the tubes, or cord issues. The inspection will be detailed, with fingers inspecting every contour. And finally, the rectal and prostate: two positions, external first—parting your cheeks to inspect and palpate the anus rim and surrounding skin for tears or inflammation—then insertion with lubrication, sweeping inside, pressing and massaging the prostate to assess size and texture. It's all mandated by the county, and essential to get the form completed."

As Alex detailed the steps—the grasping, rolling, squeezing, parting, inserting—Connor's realization deepened. This was Alex Rivera. The bookworm from bio lab, whom he had not even remembered speaking to beyond project necessities. And now, his words painted pictures of touches: fingers on his penis, probing his balls, entering his anus. Connor's face burned. An odd fog settled over his mind—disbelief mingling with a surreal embarrassment. Why this guy? Of all people, the one he had dismissed without a second thought now held the power to expose and handle him so intimately. His marriage, his impending fatherhood—those felt distant against this high school ghost's clinical grip. He stood frozen, the explanation echoing, amplifying every future prod into something profoundly awkward.

Alex circled slowly for the visual review. No spots, growths, or odd colors appeared from any side. "Everything looks sound on the outside," he said. Then, he began the hands-on part. He grasped the penis shaft with a gentle but sure hold. He lifted it to see the underside. His fingers slid along the length, pressing lightly for any hard spots or bends. "I am searching for scar tissue or unusual firmness." He turned the shaft in his palm, sensing the soft inner layers. The touch lingered a beat too long on the veins, the pressure firm yet teasing the edge of propriety. Connor froze. The manipulation from this high school acquaintance felt profoundly intrusive. No one had handled him there with such detached focus. His mind reeled in disbelief. Alex's fingers on my dick—squeezing, lifting—like it's routine. And he's that kid from class? The oddness twisted deeper.

To Connor's shock, Alex drew back his foreskin. Alex was not surprised that the head of Connor's penis emerged clean and glossy. Alex studied the ridge, the sensitive band below, and the small opening at the tip. He squeezed lightly to check for any fluid. "Does this cause pain?" Connor shook his head, but the air on the exposed skin, combined with the lingering hold, made his cheeks burn. A small twitch happened unbidden, a natural reaction to the touch. Connor wished he could vanish. The embarrassment deepened his shock at the exam's intimacy, now laced with that forgotten hallway nod.

Next, the hernia test. "Place your feet apart at shoulder width. Turn your head to one side. Cough when I tell you." Alex slid a gloved finger into the right groin channel, pushing up toward the opening. "Cough now." Connor did. A small bulge formed briefly. Alex felt for weakness—no issue. He repeated: insert, cough, remove. Then the left side. He did it several times to confirm. The deep press felt strange, almost ticklish. On one cough, Connor's scrotum tightened. It grazed Alex's wrist. The unintended contact sent fresh heat through Connor. He thought it the worst slip yet, especially knowing who Alex was. Alex stayed composed but sensed the warmth. His touch on the surrounding skin held a fraction too long, brushing the scrotum's edge.

For the testicles, Alex pulled up the stool. He sat at groin level. "I will feel each one carefully." He cupped the scrotum, raising the balls into his hand. The skin yielded softly. Starting on the right, he pinned the testicle between his thumb and fingers. He rolled it slowly, mapping the smooth surface. No lumps appeared. He followed the coiled tube behind, then the thin cord leading up. "Any soreness here?" Connor whispered no. The check dragged on—minutes per side. The left testicle felt a bit fuller, but healthy. Alex's squeezes were thorough, his fingers tracing every curve with a hold that lingered, pressing just enough to feel the inner firmness without pain. It teetered on too intimate. Connor stood rigid, mortified by the endless fondling from this practitioner—now a face from a blurred past he could scarcely recall addressing.

Then, the second view. "Turn around now, Connor. Face the exam table. Bend forward a little at the waist. Spread your legs to shoulder width. I need to examine your testicles once more from behind. This position can show differences that the front view misses." Connor pivoted slowly. His pulse raced. He bent as told, hands on the table. His buttocks parted a bit naturally. His balls hung exposed between his thighs. The pose stripped away any shield. He felt mortified, disbelieving that the exam required this angle—especially from Alex, the science project partner he had not even remembered greeting properly. Now, staring at his rear and reaching again.

Alex moved in close. His gloved hands slipped between Connor's legs from the back. He lifted the scrotum anew. In this stance, the balls swayed freely. Alex rolled them with even more deliberation. He isolated each one, feeling the weight and shape. The skin warmed against his touch. Connor sensed Alex's face inches away. Warm breaths puffed against his buttocks and the delicate skin of his balls. The sensation tickled and humiliated, like a secret whisper no one should hear—least of all this forgotten classmate. As Alex probed the left testicle deeply, rolling it side to side, Connor shifted to steady himself. His balls swung forward accidentally, brushing Alex's chin for a split second. The contact froze him. "I am sorry," he mumbled, voice tight with shame. His face pressed toward the table, hidden. The odd frame of mind sharpened: a guy he had barely spoken to, now this close, this intimate.

"That happens often in this position. No concern," Alex replied evenly. But inside, he relished the moment—the near view of the cleft between firm cheeks, the responsive warmth of the dangling testicles, Connor's clear distress. His breaths came steady, but each exhale grazed the sensitive areas a touch longer than needed. The exam extended, Alex comparing the sides with precise, lingering presses. Connor's thoughts spun: the hot breath on my skin, so close to everything. This is unbearable. And he's Alex—from high school? I didn't even say hi back then. At last, Alex pulled away. "All clear. You may wear the gown briefly."

Connor snatched it up, hands trembling as he tied it. He believed the worst had passed. But Alex removed the used gloves. He snapped on new ones and took a thick amount of petroleum jelly on his finger. He rubbed it to warm it. Connor's gaze fixed on the motion. Dread filled him. "What is that used for?"

"The rectal examination, which includes checking the prostate," Alex answered directly. "It is a key part of the full physical. We look for swelling in veins, small tears, the prostate's size, and any growths. We will use two positions for a complete assessment: first on the table with knees and elbows down, then standing bent over."

Connor's stomach twisted. "Is that necessary? I am only 26." Disbelief laced his words. He could not fathom this level of intrusion—now from someone tied to his past in such a faint thread.

"It is required for all adult men in these job clearances," Alex said. "It will not take long, but it must be detailed."

For the first position, Alex guided him. "Climb onto the table. Place your elbows and knees down. Lift your buttocks high. Keep your head near the paper covering." Connor moved onto the table with reluctance. He settled into the pose: elbows and knees bearing his weight, back curved, buttocks raised prominently. His face hovered close to the crinkled paper, inches from its faint chemical smell. The cheeks spread on their own. His anus and the skin between his legs lay open. His genitals hung below. The stance felt utterly degrading, like a position no grown man should endure—especially not for Alex Rivera, the kid he had nodded to once or twice, if that. Connor's mind screamed in embarrassment. Ass up high, face down low—this is not right. For this man to see me like an object. The odd disconnection gnawed: he had not even remembered Alex's last name until minutes ago.

Alex started outside. His gloved hands parted the cheeks further. The anus appeared ideal: a tight pink ring, smooth and hairless at the center, framed by fine blond hairs along the crease. Alex felt a rush of privilege. Such a flawless opening, hidden until now—on the very CJ he had admired from afar. He took extra time on the outer areas. His finger circled the rim slowly, pressing the surrounding skin for any tender spots, bumps, or signs of irritation. He checked every inch of the perianal region, the touch light yet insistent, almost soothing in its care. Connor tensed, a small squirm escaping. The probing felt too personal, bordering on undue—worse, from a high school shadow.

Then, the entry. "Breathe in deeply. Let it out slow." The jelly-coated finger met the opening. It slid past the muscle with gentle pressure. The inside felt warm and even. Alex turned his finger fully around, mapping the walls for any rough patches. He reached the prostate and pressed forward. The gland felt compact and springy, even on both sides, no hard spots. He kneaded it from the edges inward, testing its feel. A bit of fluid might appear, but none did. Connor made a low sound. The fullness pressed oddly, like an urgent need to go. As Alex turned deeper, a soft release of air slipped out—a faint, unmistakable noise. Connor's face burned against the table. "Pardon me," he breathed, mortified beyond words. The slip, in this pose, before this man from his unremembered past, amplified the surreal shame.

"That is very common when relaxing the muscles. Think nothing of it," Alex said. But he savored Connor's unease. The control over this former high school acquaintance, who had once been untouchable—and barely spoken to—thrilled him quietly. His finger lingered inside a moment extra, the press on the prostate almost massaging.

For the second position: "Stand now. Feet wide apart. Bend over the table and place your hands on the edge." Connor slid down, legs unsteady. He bent forward, spreading his stance. His buttocks presented again, cheeks parting more in the lean. Alex spread them with both hands first. The anus came into view once more—still perfect, the pink pucker inviting. A wave of gratitude washed over Alex. How rare to witness this on such a man, and to enter it—the CJ who had nodded but never chatted. He repeated the outer exam with devotion. His finger traced the entire rim again, kneading the perianal skin thoroughly, checking for hidden issues. The care felt meticulous, the circles slow and encompassing.

Insertion followed. The finger entered smoother this time, curving to reach the prostate anew. Alex milked it gently, drawing out the texture—the velvet walls, the gland's subtle give. He held the position longer, exploring with a touch that stayed professional but edged toward indulgence. Connor gripped the table hard. Bent over, he felt every inch of vulnerability. This plain-faced man from his past, inside him again—disbelief mixed with shame. What would his high school friends say? Alex Rivera, the nerdy, heavier kid they dismissed—and whom he himself had scarcely acknowledged—now probing places his pregnant wife had never reached. The thought amplified the humiliation, the odd frame of mind turning every sensation into a echo of forgotten indifference.

At last, Alex withdrew. "Everything is healthy. You are in excellent condition." Connor dressed in haste. The room hung thick with unspoken tension. As they stood to conclude, Alex summarized. "Your heart beats strong. Lungs are clear. No hernias. Genitals and prostate show no concerns. You are ideal for the role."

But then came the surprise. "One final note: county rules state that new employees must pay for this initial exam out of pocket. The fee is $450, due today."

Connor patted his pockets. Panic rose. "I did not bring cash. I have no credit card with me. I assumed the county would handle it."

Alex leaned against the desk, considering. "That misunderstanding occurs often. Here is an option: become my patient at this clinic. Enroll in the county employee insurance plan. It covers yearly physicals. Commit to me as your main provider for at least three more years with annual exams. In return, I will waive this fee. Future visits will be paid by insurance."

He pushed a form across the desk. It detailed the agreement. Connor stared at the page. Disbelief washed over him. Three years? Annual repeats of this—stripping bare, the prods and touches from this unattractive man, the invasive checks until he turned 30? And not just any checks: a full exam of every inch of his body, year after year. Alex's gloved hands on his penis, measuring and inspecting; cupping his testicles, rolling them gently for lumps; turning him over, spreading him for the cold probe of his anus, then the deep, probing finger for his prostate. All of it, exposed and vulnerable, to this man he barely remembered from high school. He had just allowed Alex to see and handle every secret part—his cock twitching involuntarily under the scrutiny, his balls heavy in another's palm, his hole clenching around that unwelcome intrusion. And now, signing up for more felt like a twisted extension of that old indifference. His wife, carrying their child, would never know the depths. He hesitated, pen in hand, mind churning. How had it come to this? A nod in the hall, and now this binding vulnerability, dooming him to yearly humiliations where every private fold and crevice would be laid bare again.

Alex watched, inwardly delighted. To secure this striking man—once CJ, now more captivating—for yearly exams? Until nearly 30—at the very least? The power to touch him again, to relive the privilege, filled him with anticipation—especially after those silent high school years. He could hardly wait for the next appointment, hands on Connor's naked form once more, exploring those same intimate territories with even more deliberate care.

After long minutes of internal debate, Connor signed. The pen scratched reluctantly. "Fine," he said. Relief mixed with regret.

Alex's smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Welcome as my patient. I will see you next year—for the same exam, just like today. And, of course, if you need anything in the meantime, I will be here for you."

Connor's face burned crimson as he stood, the words landing like a fresh violation. Every inch—penis, balls, ass, prostate—splayed open under Alex's gaze and touch, year after year, like clockwork. The thought clawed at him, a hot wave of embarrassment flooding his chest, his skin prickling with the memory of exposure. He was already dreading it, the inevitability of it all twisting in his gut like a knot he couldn't untie. He mumbled a goodbye and fled the office, the door clicking shut behind him.

As the sun dipped low over the island, Alex waited until the hallway fell silent, then rose with a shiver of thrill. He crossed to the door and turned the lock with a soft, decisive snick. Alone at last, heart pounding, he sank into his chair, hand drifting to his belt. The memory of Connor's body—firm, unyielding under his fingers—ignited him. He freed himself, stroking slowly at first, eyes half-closed in reverie. Next year, he'd make it last longer. Start with the basics, sure, but linger on the exam table, parting those strong thighs wider, watching Connor's face flush as he handled his penis — thick shaft, tracing the veins with clinical precision that bordered on caress. Then the balls—heavy, warm—rolling them in his palm, feeling the subtle shift of vulnerability. And the turn, the spread: that tight ring yielding to his finger, the prostate a firm nub that would make Connor gasp, just like today. In his fantasy, Connor's protests softened to reluctant shudders, his body betraying him with a twitch of arousal Alex could coax further. God, the power of it—owning this man, inch by inch, year after year. Alex's breath hitched, hips bucking into his fist, until release crashed over him in hot, shuddering waves, spilling across his knuckles. He slumped back, sated for now, already counting the days.