I sat alone waiting in the exam room. My nurse practitioner, Janet, had left a few moments ago to get my ‘medication’. Her all-to-brief exam had led her to the conclusion that I likely had a case of bacterial strep. I found the exam lacking in that I had hoped it might include her taking my temperature rectally or perhaps performing a digital prostate exam. Unknown to Janet, I was a huge fan of most medical procedures that involved my bottom. If she spanked me, too, that would be fantastic. Even though the exam had been humdrum, it was poised to conclude spectacularly.

Janet has presented me with two options - wait a few days for the test culture results to come back or take prophylactic antibiotics now. In full disclosure, she noted that antibiotics would be in the form of two “painful shots in your backside.”

Not only did I not want to wait but I was ecstatic about getting shots in my butt - in this case TWO shots. I had not always felt that way. Sitting here now looking upon the exam table, I remembered many unpleasant visits to the doctor in my youth that culminated with me on a similar table, my pants down as I watched the nurse draw up a harpoon-like syringe and hand it to the much too gleeful doctor who would always have some shot-related quip, often about using a particular freckle on my butt as his target. Back then shots hurt like crazy and I hated getting them. Not only did the needle feel huge and blunt, but the burn of the medication lasted for hours, sometimes days. Worse yet, I was vulnerable and exposed to two adult ‘care-givers’ who did not seem to care at all about how embarrassing - and painful - the experience was for me.

While I hated shots, I fantasized about my female friends and schoolmates being in a similar position, their lovely round butt cheeks being stuck. Even at a fairly young age, I found thinking about girls' bottoms, particularly about them getting shots, mesmerizing and arousing. That’s a curiosity that has never waned, though at some point, maybe after adolescence, my feeling of receiving shots flipped completely.

I was thinking about all the sights, smells and sounds of shots in my youth and was downright gleeful that I was about to receive a shot in each cheek. The anticipation was creating profound arousal and when Janet entered the room a few moments later I was unsure how to disguise the obvious bulge in my pants.

“Ok, then,” she noted cheerfully, setting the two syringes on the desk. The were not as huge as I remember those from my youth but the needles seemed satisfactorily long to deposit the milky white contents deep into my muscle. “Daily double for you today,” she quipped. I wondered what part of medical training was devoted to making light-hearted remarks about shots. “I need you on the table,” she instructed. “Lay face down with your pants undone.”

I climbed aboard the table and she pulled out an extension. Kneeling on the table, I unbuckled my belt, unfastened my slacks and pushed pants and underwear to my knees. I was not sure if Janet noticed my full erection as I lay down with my ass fully bare, reveling in the cool air against it and so eager for the shots, hoping the feeling would last a good long time. I rubbed my cock against the paper covering, another flashback to years ago in this position except not with a hard-on and definitely NOT embracing the moment.

I wished I was more flexible and able to swivel my head like an owl and watch the action. I cursed myself for not bringing along a companion who could have videoed the event. I felt Janet beside me and pull-up my shirt tail. She set her supplies on the small of my back. “You make a convenient table,” she noted and swabbed my left cheek. “This is fairly thick medication so putting it in is gonna take a little while,” she noted and jabbed the needle into me. The needle prick itself was very benign. Modern needles must be much sharper and finer than the monsters from my youth, I thought.

Then I felt the wonderful building pressure deep in my glute as she slowly pumped the serum into my muscle. She extracted the first shot, swabbed the site and applied a small band-aid. She circled the table and remarked, “Half-way down. You’re doing really good.”

“It’s not so bad,” I offered, suppressing the urge to tell her how tremendous it felt and that with only a slight bit more stimulus, I might cum on the exam table.

“You’d be surprised at how some folk scream when they get these,” she replied and swabbed the right site. A minor sting and then that awesome hot stress of the thick medication pushing it’s way into my muscle. All too soon she declared, “All done. She applied the other band-aid and I began to push up. She patted my bare butt, “Just lay there for a few moments. I want to be sure you don’t have a reaction to such a big dose.”

She sat at the desk and typed in a few notes and then checked her watch. “Ok. You can get up now.” I pushed myself up and she caught sight of my boner. She noted casually, “You’d be surprised at how many folks have that sort of reaction.” I wished she would volunteer to relieve the tension but lacking the offer I covered-up and left the clinic, a feeling wonderful mixture of below-the-waist sensations.