First thing I saw after I had closed my umbrella was a nice girl's behind that walked in front of me. Walking after her upstairs, I couldn’t see her face but only a nice shaped buttocks that played a game with an every stairs she walked on. She was obviously aware of her body so she clothed a tight light blue jeans and short jacket, leaving the nice view of her behind more visible than usual. After, pretty soon to me, we had walked up to a floor I raised up my eyes still looking to a tall girl, with long tail of black hair, walking in front of me trough the long corridor. When we arrived to reception I was prepared for the end of a show. She opened a door and came into reception room, and I had to stand outside and wait my turn.

When parents of two boys that standing in a row before me took their medical records I bent over a small window to tell my name. I didn’t even finish it when door opened and same girl appeared on it.

“Hi Milan. Why are you here? Are you ill?”

It was Lilly.

“Oh. Hi. Nothing serious. I had some cold and I need a control exam and paper for school. What are you doing here?”

“I’m working here.” She told me and disappeared through the corridor in a hurry.

The nurse from a window didn’t let me to look after Lilly. “Milan Blenton. Your record is here.”

----

I have saw Lilly for the first time during a summer before I went to high school when I was 14. We just moved in town and her family was the first one in a building that made a contact with us. Her parents called us to their flat to meet each other just a day after we arrived. Their five members family (parents and three daughters) lived a floor under us.

While all of us talking about our new flat and our planning how to furniture it, Lilly was silent. Her sister told me she has high temperature and sinus infection and she is receiving penicillin injections twice a day.

Every morning and every evening, in same time, I was watching from my window how her father is driving her to clinic and they were backing home. She wore dark blue jeans pants and dark blue jacket. They would come out from a building she would sat in their car and they would disappeared. An hour later the car their car would drive back. She would slowly and hardly walking into the building.

One of those evenings I walked behind them upstairs. The whole way up I looked her behind and imagined her getting an injection. She was tall, skinny black haired girl. Even she wore a bit oversized clothes she couldn’t hide her not small, but skinny buttocks under it. According to theory I accepted from my school friend that injections are more painful for skinny buttocks, I was sure she suffered a large pain just few minutes before. But I never saw signs of pain or tears in her eyes or face.

That year she finished nursery school and soon found a job “somewhere in the local clinic”. At least twice more I heard from her sister she was getting penicillin injections, but despite I tried to asked her about it, she never answer me. To be true, she talked with me rarely, she was older girl and I was just a silly boy from neighborhood without a knowledge about any subject she would maybe wanted to talk. Soon they moved to the other pat of a town, but I didn't forget her easily. From time to time I imagined her getting injections.

--

When I entered in a crowded waiting room the best thing I could do to cut my boring was think about Lilly. She was changed. I remembered her skinny buttocks in oversized jeans pants while she had been walking up the stairs in our building. That day I watched different, slim but nicely shaped buttock under a tight light jeans. I wished I could watching her in waiting room after she got an injection in so nice behind, but she was somewhere on the other side of those white doors.

In meantime the row in front of me getting shorter. There were just a boy with his father left, the same ones from reception window. They finished his exam very shortly. Just after few minutes the door opened, they exit and I hear a nurse calling my name..

Instead of female doctor that had examined me five days before, there was a male doctor. I didn’t like it. It was a doctor I had argued with few years before when he had prescribed me injections I didn’t expect at all

“Good morning. I’m come to control exam” I said with a deep hope he would just examine me shortly, write papers I need and send me home. He continued to read my record and didn’t even try to look at me. He told me to undress my shirt and sit on patient’s chair next to his desk. Without a word, I took of my jacket, my pullover, underwear shirt and sat on a chair.

“My college wrote that you had tonsillitis. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes, kghhh, much better" I said interrupted with coughing.

"We will see it. Since I read you had many respiratory infections in a past, let we hear your lungs first.” He told like he is talking to papers on his desk not to me, then raised his head, put a stethoscope on his ears and turned closer to me.

With a first signs of fear in my mind and voice, desperately trying to show myself more cooperative then the last time (If he remembered me at all) I tried to talk with him.

“Yes sir. I had many respiratory infections as a boy. When I grow up it stopped. I had just few usual sore throats and that’s all.”.

“Let me examine you first. I can’t listen your lungs when you talk. We’ll talk later” she told me.

Feeling a kind of ordering voice in his words, I felt some strange coldness in the air. I’m not sure was the room cold itself, was it because I was naked from my waste up, or the stethoscope was cold like ice, but soon I started to shivering. I couldn’t stop it. Silence was interrupted with his orders to breathe deeply or to turn myself. He finally backed closer to his desk and put out stethoscope from his ears. Still leaving me to shivering on a chair he took a wooden spoon, stack it in my mouth and told me to say “aah”. He looked my throat for a long minute or even more, then backed to his desk again and told me to dress myself.

I was expecting he would tell me his decision while I was clothing my shirts back, but when I did it he was still writing a prescription. Without looking to me he asked me about my last night temperature. I told him “37” (I lied a bit). He wrote few more letters, scrubbed a prescription from a block and told me:

”Injections should been included on first exam. Come here again when you receive all ten injections..”

I didn't except it and he obviously saw a shock on my face. "For a man that was not a boy any more it will not be a problem. Treatment room is at the end of a corridor

---

So many people in a room and so rare voices – like all of us waiting for lethal injection. The fat girl that was sitting next to a door of treatment room didn’t even raise her head when I entered. All others did. A boy that was sitting next to her, probably in same age as myself, looked me with a strange fatigue in his eyes. He looked so weak. Next to him was sitting an older women with her daughter. She was younger than most of us, probably still in elementary school. She was moving her legs and singing something into herself like she was waiting a call for a game, not for an injection. On a second bench there were familiar faces. A boy and his father I had saw in waiting room for exam. The father looked to me as to some familiar, even we had met each other just few minutes before. It seemed to me like he was calling me to sit next to them on small part of bench that stayed unoccupied for some reason. But I saw there are more patients that waited their turn before me.

“Go on, sit.” A voice came from my left side. It was a boy, maybe a year older then myself. “It’s ok. Nobody else don’t want to wait on a bench. It’s free” He told me with a smile.

So I sat next to a boy’s father again, and same as others, I didn't even try to talk. I looked to just written prescription, with my name, age, social number, date and therapy: Penicillin inj.: 1.600.000 IU; deeply IM; 1X1; No: 10 (ten). The doctor’s signature and stamp were at the bottom.

“Injections too?” a men from my right side (a boy’s father) asked me.

“ yea.”

“How many?”

“Ten”

“Ten today?”

“Common. One per day. Ten days”

“Igor has to receive two injections today. He got some bed case of tonsillitis. Doctor said one injection will reduce his temperature and second one is antibiotic. Penicillin. What are you need to receive?”

“Antibiotics too. Penicillin. Because of strep throat too.”

From time to time my look came to Igor. All the time he looked to a floor like he was nervous because his father talking about his injections.

In meantime patients exchanging in treatment room. Door would opened, patient that just had got injection walked out, nurse would loudly call “next one” and next one would come in and closed the door.

Igor' father continued to talk. He asked me was I receiving injections before.

“Yes. Many times. I’m used to them”

“He didn’t get injection since his childhood. Were they painful? “

“They could be, but I used to them”

“The last time he cried a lot. I remember we…”

“Common Dad, what are you talking about? The last time I was six years old, today I’m 17.” Finally he spoke. Obviously anger to his father.

“Don’t talk any more, it’s my turn” he told and stand up from a bench. The boy that had told me to sit on a bench just exiting treatment room. He hardly walk.. Igor father’s closed a door.

Ten minutes later, much longer than for other patients, the door opened. Igor appeared first. He walked hardly holding his right butt cheek with his hand. His face was wet of tears and glimpse on it showed a pain like he was still receiving injection. Few steps behind him his father carried his jacket.

“Next one” screamed from a room again. It was my turn.

- -

I didn’t bet on injections that day, but, when I already had not have a luck with doctors I expected a gentle nurse that would made my butt’s encounter with needle at least easier. I closed a door. On my right side I saw a nurse. It was Lilly. The sudden fact that she will give injection to me mad me embarrassed for a moment, but also It looked pretty good to me. She knew me, she would give everything from herself to make injection less painful.

“Milan. You told me you come here just for a paper for school.” Her voice sounded a bit less nice then half an hour before.

“Well, doctor didn’t mean like that”

“What’s on papers. Let me see”

She took a prescription from my hands.

“Penicillin. hmmm. large dose." She turned to preparation table and told "I know you were receiving them already. Leave your jacket and prepare yourself.”

I left my jacket and walked to exam bed. Despite the raising anticipation and strange fear my eyes looked for her butt once again. She was already doing “those things” with syringes and vials . Nice buttock under a tight light blue jeans from a stairs gone somewhere. The white, long, nurse’s suite covered even a possible signs of her body figure. "There was no her ass to think about it. Maybe she would think about my ass. It’s a skinny and she would probably think about to be gentle.” I tried to encourage myself.

I opened a belt on my jeans and slightly bent over a bed, put my left hand on it and slowly laid down. Once in a position, I served my 18 years old butt to her. I pulled down my jeans almost till my knees. Some nurses used to tell me they need more space, so I pulled my white briefs till the bottom of my butt. I didn’t think to show my butt for her, just to left her enough space to inject me. To be true I couldn't show her much with my buttocks. I was too tall and my long hair made me to look even more skinnier then I am. At least there is a hope she would be more gentle then for those with bigger butt.

I checked the “procedure rules” twice: I laid fully on bed, I put my hands under my chook, I relax my muscles and legs, uncover my butt enough, I didn’t looked to preparation and I tried to ignore the wracking sounds that comes from preparation table.

While I was praying for easy injection and collecting strength and concentration if something goes wrong, I felt cold air spreading around me. Coldness that surrounding my naked butt filling me with strange fear. In a moment when sounds of bottles stopped to coming from my right side I knew she checking the syringe for air.

“Double adult dose is not a joke.” She told me with a strange voice colour, the same colour that older nurses used when preaching me about my health. I heard her steps and felt she was bending over my butt before she said again “It is not just a small cold like you said”

I felt cold alcohol on my right butt cheek. Two straight moves of cotton, shorter then a second and needle jab. I felt every single millimetre of needle way through my muscle. I hated those moments when nurses don’t jab a needle in one quick motion. It causing intense pain even before injection itself.

Maybe she told me few more words but I simply couldn’t answer. I clenched my teeth. Sharp pain of needle soon was replaced with intense burning. Penicillin started to flow into my muscle. It was unpleasant but still not so painful to let a voice from my mouth. Clenching teeth was just enough. I tried to stay relaxed and gathering concentration from all of known resources to me, but much faster than pain was increasing I was losing my resources of concentration. She obviously decide to put all penicillin into my butt in one motion. The faster possible motion. I realised I can't keep my muscles relaxed any more so I left an ouch as a warning to her. Pain didn’t release. It got even stronger.

“Hold sill, just a bit more” she told me with voice that sounded not gentle to me.

Like she felt I could tense myself and decided to finish injection as soon as possible, she pressed a plunger even stronger. There was no help. I tensed my butt. Five seconds of struggle of my muscle and her finger on a syringe’s plunger, could resulted just with loud “aaahhh”.

I felt she withdraw a needle, applied alcohol again, massaged my but strongly and without a word back to her table. When I tried to stand up I felt like needle was still in my muscle. I turned my head to see my butt. There was no needle, just a large piece of cotton in the top of my right butt cheek.

I stand up, carefully clothe myself and walked to my jacket. Before I left a room she told me “Don’t worry. When you finished with those ten in bum there will not be sore throat and there will not be injections because of it”.

Even today I’m not sure what she wanted to say.

I walked out and hear her loud calling again “next one”. I didn’t see who was her next victim, I just hurried to leave a clinic. What a day? I started my visit to clinic as same as I finish it – with Lilly. When I was looking her on my arrival I imagined her buttocks with a needle in it. I left a clinic with a needle from her hand in my butt.

---

Lilly injected my butt 3 times more in next 9 days. Every third day. Beside the first injection in serial she gave me my 4th, 7th and 10th. Somehow, her injections were more painful than those from other nurses. Not only injections. Whenever I came into injections room she wasn't like someone I know, she was acting like other nurses. Officially Hello and order "prepare yourself. There was no sympathy from whom I expected. Last injection was especially painful in all of those meanings.

While I was laying on bed and waiting her to prepare injection for my skinny butt already signed with 9 bruises, she didn't say a word. I thought she was disappointed about my behaviour. I had moaning and tensing my buttocks. Maybe she still treated me as kid. Even more, as uncooperative kid.

I left a tear even when she jabbing a needle. Slowly, millimetre by millimetre. She injected 8 cc of penicillin so fast that I forgot I need to relax myself. I was tensing my muscles more and more and even when she withdraw a needle all muscles of my body, from toe to head was in cramp. I don't know how I managed not to scream.

When she withdraw a needle she told me she need to change a cotton and I should lay on bed till she do it. When she massaged my butt for a second time, she helped me to stand up and holding me for my back while I was pulling back my briefs and jeans pants.

When I walked to a door she hugged me and told “clear your tears and make a smile. There is no injections any more”. I didn’t clear my tears. I knew I can’t hide I cried.

Her “Next one” sounded like she was calling my name again. Every single step down stairs hurt me like she was still injecting my butt. For days I couldn’t sit on a chair normally. No, the pain in my butt didn’t reminded me to her, to her nice buttocks. It reminded me for every single injection she gave me. Painful injections.