This is an abridged translation of a text a friend of mine sent me a few months ago. I have translated the first part here, the others will follow soon. Once the whole story has been translated, I will post the link to the original. I hope you like it!

I get into the room. It looks a bit like a storage space, yet it is clean and tidy, with a long metal table in the middle. It all seems calm and airy, which makes me feel less tense and nervous. The doctor closes the door behind me.

"Please come in."

I stop in front of the table, in the center of the room, while he's facing me opposite.

"What's your name and how old are you?" he asks me.

"My name is Daniel, I'm 25 years old," I answer, shyly.

"Right, you had written down your age in the email... You didn't eat today, did you?"

"No, I didn't."

"Good. Undress and step on the scale," he orders, very authoritatively, pointing at the instrument in the corner behind him.

I am feeling very embarrassed, yet I am also excited. I had never gone on a blind date, let alone in such a peculiar way. I met the doctor on the Internet, on a social network. I stumbled upon his profile page, and his pictures showed a somewhat older boy than me, about 28-30 years old, neatly dressed with a lad coat and a stethoscope. In the photos, his face was covered by a surgical mask which could only let me see his eyes. He looked really handsome, and the stethoscope hanging from his neck made me even more excited. On his page, I read that he was looking for a submissive young man, ready to undergo a very thorough medical exam. I blushed straight away, my face became terribly hot. I was excited and curious to receive such an exam. Without hesitating, I wrote him a message asking for more details of his exams, and in a few minutes I received his reply. "I am looking for a curious, clean, good-looking, and healthy boy. I am a medical student. The examination is thorough and it does not involve injections or blood samples. I'd rather have you discover the rest by yourself." Even if I was afraid it might be dangerous, the excitement was overwhelming. We exchanged a few other messages, and eventually he gave me some instructions, telling me not to be afraid.

I get closer to the scale, which is the only thing in the room which recalls an examination room—apart from the lab coat worn by the boy and the stethoscope hanging from his neck, of course.

"Stand still, don't move your shoulders..."

I'm standing upright, with my arms along my sides, and barefoot. I can't keep my feet still and flat on the scale. The doctor is facing me, very close, with my forehead at the level of his chin. I can now notice that his face is beautiful. Or at least its beauty is very uncommon. His eyes are long and very dark, his eyelashes are long and black. He seems to be from the Middle East. He is looking above my head, and his breath is reaching me along with his smell.

"Ok, good... Five feet 10 inches, 170 pounds."

I look at him, I don't know if I should expect a comment on these measurements or if he is going to tell me what to do now.

"Lie on the table."

I sit down, and gently but firmly he pushes my shoulders so that I lie down. I shiver. The table is much colder than my body. He is standing on my left and he starts palpating my chest, and his hands catch my attention: he is wearing three steel rings. There is a metallic bracelet on his right wrist, while on the left one he is wearing a big steel watch, a Rolex Submariner. I have always been attracted by this watch. My father has one, and when he leaves it at home I sometimes wear it myself until he gets back. While wearing it, I am so excited and aroused, and a few times I even masturbated with it on my wrist.

But now, being touched by the doctor is even more arousing. His hands slide toward my underwear. He lifts the elastic band of my boxer-briefs with one hand, exposing my soft penis, while with the other he pulls them off. I lift my back to make it easier for him, but at the same time I am becoming very embarrassed. I'm flushing, and I scared he will notice. He is staring at me, he saw it. He smiles, and I respond with an awkward grimace. I am completely naked in front of his eyes.

Without telling me anything, he makes me sit up again, with him standing behind me. At this point, I feel his left hand is blocking my shoulder, while the cold chest piece of his stethoscope rests on different spots of my back.

"Breathe deeply," he orders. "Yes, good. Now cough. Again. OK, now lie back down."

I lie down and he starts to auscultate my chest. He is very attentive and focused, moving his stethoscope over my skin, stopping in mysterious places. Or anyway I cannot understand his choices. Along with his hand, he also moves his bracelet, and as the chest piece of the stethoscope get warmer, I can feel the metal of his wristlet. he rests the fingers of his other hand on my sternum. It makes me feel strange: it is a new sensation, never experienced before. His behavior and movements make me uneasy, still, impotent. Yet I am becoming ever more attracted to his hands—they are young, big, amber-colored—and his watch.

He removes the stethoscope from his ears and lets it hang from his neck, then he turn to get a sphygmomanometer from a cabinet behind him.

"Lift your arm."

He holds my left wrist while he slides the cuff along my arms. Then he secures it above the elbow, at the height of my heart. It is a bit tight, and it becomes even more so as he inflates it by squeezing rhythmically the pump. I am drawn by his face and his physique. I try to imagine what is under his lab coat, whose curves let me easily delineate his appearance. I am increasingly fascinated by him. He has thick lips, and his beard in well trimmed, neither too long nor too short.

After taking my blood pressure, he examines my ears with an otoscope. Then it is the throat he wants to observe. From the cabinet he pulls out a penlight and a tongue depressor. He orders me to open my mouth. I obey. I cannot help noticing that as he keeps my tongue down with his right hand, he also blocks my mouth. I cannot move it. With his left hand, he moves the penlight in several directions. It makes me feel like I am the victim of a strange behavior, as if I was a naughty child who is treated very maliciously. His face is very close to mine. He looks carefully at my throat and his regular and sweet-smelling breath reaches my dry lips. I avoid to make eye contact, and happen to stare at his chest. From underneath his shirt, a little hair appears.

Very authoritatively, he pushes me down. He begins to palpate my belly, moving from the left to the right. He touches me very decisively, and as his fingers press onto my abdomen, I can also feel his metal watch and bracelet. I am so excited that I am literally paralyzed. He slides him hands lower, toward my groin. He touches on my pubic hair and the shaft of my penis.

He seems to have finished probing my abdomen, and I wonder whether something is wrong. He doesn't say anything and gets hold of my penis, which thankfully is still soft. Holding it vertically, he pulls back the foreskin and uncovers the glans completely. He squeezes it and touches the frenulum, making me shiver. Then he drops it, and when it touches his other hand I get that feeling of initial exciting uneasiness when my dick gets hard and the glans presses against the cloth of my underwear.

He has moved on to my testicles. He is rolling them in his hands, squeezing them, examining them very carefully. My balls are in his hands, he is touching them, squeezing them! I am ever more excited. He notices that my excitement is growing. We exchange a glance, but he turns immediately to my testicles. Then he drops them and writes something on a piece of paper behind him.

"Good. The standard checkup is over. Now we must go on with the more thorough exams. Spread your legs."

I am still feeling completely paralyzed, but without hesitation he spreads my legs holding my thighs. I am lying down, with my legs bent and wide open, and completely naked. Then he wears a latex glove on his right hand, on whose covered index finger pours the content of a small tube.

"Relax now."

With his left hand he tries to spread a bit more my legs, then I feel something cold and wet on my asshole. He is moving his finger to spread the lubricant. I am very nervous, feeling ever more paralyzed, as if four people were firmly holding me onto the bare table. I can see that he is pulling a thermometer from a container next to him, and very delicately he pushes it into my ass. For a couple of minutes he is quiet, keeping the thermometer still, but for me the waiting seems endless.