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Views: 1769 Created: 2020.09.22 Updated: 2020.09.22

Medical Nightmares: Book #2 - Logan Adder

Logan Adder

I don’t feel good. In a way that’s hard to explain, too. I feel feverish; I’m experiencing nausea and extreme chills, mostly. The rest is really weird. My whole lower stomach hurts... My left testicle stings every once in a while. And the amount I’ve been peeing... I’ve been peeing a lot. Like, every forty-five minutes, I’m in the bathroom peeing. Sometimes it doesn’t even come out in a stream. It just dribbles.

I’m feeling really, really rough. It’s been building up since yesterday evening and it’s only been getting worse.

I’m sitting on one of the couches in the coffee lounge, lying still and trying to ward off the sick feeling in my stomach. I threw my hair over the back of the couch so it isn’t matted against the back of my neck and making the sweats worse. Rest my hands under my tee against my stomach to try to soothe it.

Ian Diamond, his younger brother Eddie, and Charlie Halloran are trying to decide where to get cocktails... If I can ever pull myself off this couch.

“We could go to Ward 8,” Eddie suggests. “They’re good if we plan on having a night out. As in, a night out.

Charlie points in his direction. “They got food, right?” he asks.

Eddie grins. “Yeah,” he answers.

Charlie raises an eyebrow. “Wings?”

Eddie frowns. “Huh. Good question. Lemme look.”

There’s a pause as Ian scrolls through his phone. “I dunno if I like that Parla is calling their alcohol hooch,” he mutters.

Charlie shrugs. “Yeah, considering hooch is illegal and usually made in a toilet. We’ll come back to that one,” he says. “What about Yellow Door Taqueria? They have that Ahoy Amigo that Logan stands by.”

The three of them look at me, and I think they’re looking for my input. So I respond with a simple “hm.” I don’t think I heard what they were saying. I just heard my name.

Ian peers up with his eyes for a moment, then looks back down at his phone. “There’s also Miracle Bar. But I think we’ll have no choice but to invite Zales if we go there. He loves their drink menu.” He barely finishes his sentence before he looks up from his phone and right at me. “Logan, are you okay?” he asks gently, his expression very worried. “You’ve been acting off for a while now. And you don’t look so good, either.”

I try to pick up my head and look at him. And I sigh. “No... No, I don’t feel good,” I admit.

Ian frowns. “Knew something didn’t seem right with you,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

I lie my head back again because having to tense my abdomen to stay sitting up is making me feel like I’m going to throw up. “I dunno. I feel sick,” I mutter. “Drowsy. Sick to the stomach. Cold, but I’m sweating like an animal.”

Eddie sits forward, eyebrows knitted. He rests a palm over my forehead for a minute. Then proceeds to rest the back of his hand over my cheek... My other cheek. My chest.

“Oof... You’re really warm,” he points out. “Seems like you have a fever, at least. Does anything, like... Hurt? Your stomach? Your throat?”

Sitting up again, I frame my lower abdomen. “Here,” I say. “Right there, and...” I sigh, muttering a “so embarrassing” to myself. “One of my balls hurts, and... I’m peeing all the time. I spend half the day in the bathroom peeing. Like I can’t hold anything in my bladder for too long.”

Charlie nods, lips pursed. “Yeah... Yeah, you were in the bathroom quite a bit,” he explains. “Wasn’t the other thing, though, huh? That’s at least good.”

Ian looks in Eddie’s direction, knowing his brother has some sort of medical knowledge. “Flu?” he questions.

Eddie shrugs. “Hrm. I don’t think so,” he mutters. “The fever and feeling sick lines up with the flu. But the area of pain and the peeing isn’t really a flu thing.” He strokes my forehead. “Doesn’t sound good though. Something’s going on, and if you ask me, it sounds kind of like kidney stones.”

Charlie winces, patting my knee. “Ooh... Logan,” he says softly.

I sigh, closing my eyes and knitting my eyebrows. I know what’s coming next. I can’t take care of kidney stones by myself. No one can. Considering I’ve been feeling bad since last night and it only got worse, lying down and sleeping it off isn’t going to help. I really don’t want this fix to be the case... I hate going there. It makes me really nervous. I hate being put in a place like that. Being exposed to prod at. And my friends know that really well too.

Ian frowns. “Logan. I know you’re not gonna wanna hear this,” he tells me, voice low. “But you should really go to the doctor. You need to be checked out if you feel like this.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, groaning in both pain and discomfort. “No... No, please,” I whimper, voice weak. “Aw... Don’t make me see a doctor.”

That’s what I was afraid of. I don’t want to go to the hospital. Hospitals make me nervous. Doctors make me nervous. I don’t like what goes on in hospitals. I hate being examined, too. I mean, I obviously don’t have anything to worry about with my body, and having it admired. I don’t mind modeling and being naked in front of others, opening my legs just enough. But being medically examined makes me feel nervous and uncomfortable. Cold hands... Cold tools. It’s kind of gross. Having my clothes removed and replacing them with a flimsy sheet... And hospitals are always so cold. Breezy because they blast the air conditioner. And you’re practically naked under that sheet. Sitting there awkwardly. Then the doctor goes under that protective sheet with their freezing hands, metal tools, going into private places they don’t need to go into. Those are my private parts; my bits and pieces, not something for someone to invade. Not medically. Physical exams irk me for that reason.

And the needles... Ugh, I don’t appreciate needles. I’m such a wuss when my agent calls and says, “Mr. Adder, you’re due for a flu shot.” Someone has to mentally prepare me... Ice my bicep to numb it, hold my hand.

Eddie places a hand on my shoulder and shakes me gently. “Logan. It’s okay,” he says softly. “It seems like this isn’t something that’s just going to go away with Tylenol. It could be an infection and you could get seriously sick if you don’t get the right treatment. You gotta get checked out. Make sure everything’s okay.”

I wrap my arms around myself, hunching over. I feel even more sick now. “I... I don’t... I can’t,” I mumble nervously. I suck in a breath, and my lip trembles slightly. “I don’t want to go to the hospital... There has to be something else.” My anxious breathing catches. “Oh God, please don’t make me see a doctor...”

Charlie gives my knee another good rub. “It’s alright, man! We would never make you see a doctor you’re not comfortable with, alright?” he reassures me. “We’ll call the hospital. See if someone we know is available. Will that make you feel a little better?”

I pause for a minute. It would, actually. I find myself even more unnerved when the doctor is someone I’m completely unfamiliar with. I think having someone I’m close with would take away some of that fear.

“Yeah...” I finally answer.

Charlie pats my knee once, standing up. “Sweet. Let me call real quick for ya,” he says. He heads out of the room for a minute, punching a number into his phone, I think.

Ian sits forward again, taking over the soft pats on my knee. “You’re gonna be okay, Logan. This isn’t to scare you. You know that, right?” he asks.

I just nod, lidding my eyes. I know they just want to help. It’s just that... Hospitals suck.

“Good. We wouldn’t do it to ya if we didn’t have to,” Ian says gently. “It’ll be alright, though. Doctor’s probably gonna check ya quick. Y’know, like you’re going in for a checkup. Make sure you’re okay. Easy enough. Then they’ll check you for where the pain’s coming from, most likely. Makes sense right? Like... Feel your tummy, I would think, since it’s hurting. Make sure nothing’s wrong with the testicle that’s bothering you. Grab some urine from you.” He reaches over and squeezes my arm. “I know it’s rough. But it’ll be fine.”

Eddie wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll stay with you, if you want,” he offers.

I dip my chin as a lazy sort of nod. “Please.”

Eddie gives me a squeeze, reaching over and dabbing the sweat from my forehead with soft fingertips. “Damn. You’re so stressed out that you’re actively sweating,” he chuckles. “Relax for a minute. Everything’s fine.”

For a short minute, I try to take that advice. Relax. And breathing things off, I start to feel a little better.

Though, it’s only for a minute. When Charlie comes back, I know that it’s set in stone that I have a doctor’s appointment. I can’t get out of it now.

“Alright, Logan. You’re set,” he tells me. “Dr. Clark’s got your back.”

That relaxes me a bit. Wesley Clark is an amazing doctor, which says something. He’s such a sweet guy, and extremely gentle. I’ll survive, at the very least

Eddie pats my back. “Alright, Logan. Easy does it,” he says softly as he helps me to his feet. He supports my weight against my shoulder, which isn’t hard, considering he’s a pro wrestler. He might be compact, but he has the strength to hold Ian over his shoulders.

Ian gives me a hug around the neck. “Good luck, Logan. You are going to make it,” he reminds me. “We’ll be thinking of you.”

Charlie gives me a gentle roughing up on the shoulder. “You’re tough. You’ll make it,” he reassures me.

I take a deep breath. “Thank you...” I mutter. I take their word that everything’s going to be okay.

Propping myself up on Eddie, I walk with him out to his car so he can take me to my ultimate demise.

Before heading into the hospital building, I tuck my hair into a beanie, and I wear a pair of sunglasses to hide my face. Just until I get into the exam room; we all do it. I get myself checked in at the front desk, giving them my insurance card and all.

“Alright, sir! You’re all checked in,” she says. “Dr. Clark is with a patient at the moment, but his nurse will come by for you in just a moment.” With that, Eddie takes me over and sits down in one of the quiet corners of the waiting room.

As I’m sitting, my entire knee bounces. I’m glad I didn’t have to fill out any papers because I’m pretty sure my hands are permanently curled into fists. I rest my head on my fists, sitting and panting heavily because I cannot breathe. I don’t know what’s waiting for me, but I don’t want to find out because that requires me to be examined. Dare I say... I’m scared.

I feel as Eddie puts a hand on my back at some point. He rubs it in a slow, circular, soothing motion, trying to calm me back down. “Bro. It’s alright. You’re gonna be fine,” he reassures me. “I’m not going to leave you alone. I know you’re in pain, and I know it makes you want to do this even less. We just gotta make sure you’re okay.”

I want to answer, I just... I’m too scared to know what to say. So I close my eyes... Try to focus on him alternating between rubbing and scratching my back. Seeing as the urinating problems are probably making me dehydrated, and because having something cool and refreshing can help with anxiety, Eddie grabs me a cold water bottle from the front desk. I take some good sips of it... It feels pretty good.

Eventually, the door opens, and a male nurse looks into the waiting room at the rest of us. “Logan?” he asks.

I sigh deeply. It’s really happening now. Can’t get my way out of this one.

I grab my water bottle, and allow Eddie to help me up. I can walk on my own for the most part, but he still stays nearby me. He isn’t leaving me to go through his on my own.

The nurse brings us to an exam room, where I know I’m probably safe to unmask myself. Once the door closes, I take off my sunglasses and shake my hair free from my beanie. Eddie sits in one of the chairs, and not wanting to feel like a specimen just yet, I sit in the one beside him. Just for now. I know I’m going to have to meet my fate and sit on the exam table at some point... I just don’t want it to be right now.

“Good evening, Mr. Adder,” the nurse says softly. “I’m sorry to hear that you aren’t feeling well. We’re going to make sure you’re leaving here feeling better, alright?”

I try to breathe deeply so I don’t seem like I’m too scared. “Okay. Thank you,” I answer.

“Of course,” the nurse says. “My name is Owen, I’m one of the physician’s assistants. I’m just going to be getting a few vitals from you and provide a urine sample for Dr. Clark. Sound okay?”

I just nod, too nervous to look Owen in the eye. I settle for looking at his knees.

“Great. Are you comfortable where you are? You don’t want to sit on the exam table?”

I don’t hesitate to shake my head. “Uh... I’m okay... Right here,” I mutter.

Owen nods. “That’s alright. If that’s where you’re comfortable for the time being then you can sit there with your friend,” he says. “I will have you stand up for a minute and we’ll just start with getting a height and weight from you. Can I just get you to take off your sneakers and your sweatshirt?”

I take my time doing it, but I untie my sneakers, still sitting in one of the chairs. Pull them off one at a time. I’ve just got on my black gym socks now. The long ones that reach until mid-calf. Then I stand up from the chair and pull off my sweatshirt. Now I’m just wearing my sweatpants and the white muscle tank I had on underneath the sweatshirt. I’m already feeling goosebumps pop up on my skin from how cold this room is currently. I think I even start feeling my nipples starting to get hard under my tank top... Any harder and we’ll be able to see them through the shirt.

“Wonderful. Let’s have you step up onto the scale, start with getting a weight,” Owen says.

Handing my water to Eddie for the moment, I get out of the chair. Walk myself over to the scale even though my legs feel like jello. Then I stand on the scale... Both feet, body as relaxed as it’s gonna get. Then I just gotta stand here while the thing calculates my weight.

I think Owen can tell that I’m obscenely nervous, because he tries just talking to me. Probably looking to take my mind off of it.

“Did you get highlights again, Mr. Adder?” he asks.

I think he’s referring to my hair, so I nod. “Yeah,” I answer simply.

Owen grins, and it’s very warm and comforting. “Well, it looks very nice on you,” he says. “I like the way the brown and blonde looks with your natural dark brown.”

I manage a grin. It only lasts a second but it’s there. “Thanks,” I respond.

Owen then looks down at the scale, seeing as it’s finished deciphering my weight. “Alrighty. Two hundred fourteen pounds. That seems about right, you are a big guy,” he says. “Turn around for me, let’s get that height.”

Still standing on the scale, I turn around, back facing the wall. Owen unfolds the stadiometer, which he extends up. “Stand nice and straight for me. Feet flat down,” he says.

I make sure my spine is straight and my chin is lifted. Owen lowers the lever down until it’s rested just on top of my head. I just barely feel it.

“Good. Step down.”

I step down from the scale and allow him to check the numbers.

“Six-four. Perfectly balances out with your weight, no concerns there,” Owen says as he folds everything back up. “You can take a seat back next to your friend. I’m going to get your temperature and your blood pressure. Take your pulse. Alright?”

With that, I sit back down next to Eddie who gives me a pat on the back. “You’re good,” he reminds me. “He hasn’t hurt you yet, hm?”

I just breathe out and shake my head. He hasn’t. Yet.

Owen moves over a small cart. It has a couple monitors on it, and a basket attachment that holds all the blood pressure cuffs. Actually seeing medical equipment makes me swallow hard... I don’t like the look of it. I mean, I know what all of it does, but I still don’t like to look at it.

“May I see your arm, Mr. Adder?” he asks.

I offer out my arm and just hope that the nurse can’t see my trembling fingers.

He takes out one of the bigger cuffs from the basket. Straps it around my arm and velcros it. Then he plugs it into the monitor, and presses a few things on it... And it starts tightening around my bicep. Real, real snug.

I don’t have much time to worry about that, though. Owen also unhooks out the thermometer monitor. Turns it on and slides a plastic cover onto the probe. It turns on with a sharp beep.

“Under your tongue, Mr. Adder,” he says.

I open my mouth. Let him slide it into my mouth, and I maneuver it under my tongue. Make a tight seal with my lips. Just sit there with the probe in my mouth, long, spiral cord leading to the monitor on the cart.

“Great. And now just let me see that free hand,” he says.

I pass my hand over to Owen, and allow him to clamp a pulse oximeter onto my middle finger. “Just keep that nice and still,” he tells me. I opt for resting it on my knee.

And then he’s done. I’m wired up over here like a frigging android.

Eddie can sense that I don’t like this. He gives me a push at the shoulder. Gently so he doesn’t disrupt the blood pressure cuff or the pulse oximeter. “Hey. Don’t look like you’re being violated,” he tells me with a soft chuckle. “You’re fine. Still not hurting you.”

I just lid my eyes. Can’t really talk with the thermometer in my mouth. I’ve nothing to say yet anyways.

Though, I soon find myself squeezing my eyes shut. The cuff gets insufferably tight around my arm. It feels like it’s cutting off the circulation; I feel the pulse ticking. It stays tight for a good minute, then it slowly lets out the air until it’s completely loose.

Owen takes a glance at the pulse and blood pressure readings on the monitor, and I notice him wince. “Your blood pressure is a little higher than normal, Mr. Adder,” he tells me. “You do seem tense, though. Is there any chance you suffer a little bit from White Coat Syndrome?”

Lidding my eyes again, I give a silent nod so I don’t set off the thermometer.

The nurse nods with a knowing grin, unwrapping the cuff from my arm and unclamping the pulse oximeter from my finger. “That’ll do it. It’s alright to be nervous,” he tells me. “Dr. Clark might want to take it one more time later on during the exam just to be sure.”

Within the next half minute, there’s a rhythmic beep from the thermometer to let us know it’s finished.

“Wonderful. Let’s check that temperature,” Owen says. I sit still and let him slide the probe out of my mouth nice and easy. It comes out with a little bit of my saliva on it. Checking the temperature on the screen, he frowns.

“Hmm, yeah. You have a fever, Mr. Adder,” he tells me. “One hundred point eight. Are you having any other fever symptoms?”

I sigh. “Yeah... Yeah, I’ve got... Chills. Sweats. Stomachache,” I explain.

Owen frowns even further. “Yeah... Sounds like your body’s telling you something’s not right,” he says. “Do I have permission to just feel your skin, Mr. Adder?”

I nod. “Yeah, yeah, man. You’re good,” I tell him, trying to keep from sounding drowsy.

The nurse reaches out, and like Eddie did earlier, he places the palm of his hand against my forehead. Then the back of his hand against my cheek. And finishes with his palm against my chest.

“You’re very warm. No doubt we’re dealing with a fever,” Owen says. “It’s okay, though. The doctor will have a look at you and make sure everything’s okay.” He then goes to the counter, opening up a cabinet and taking out one of those specimen cups. I watch from my seat as he writes on the label with a sharpie: ADDER, LOGAN... Then he hands it to me along with a packet that has an alcohol wipe in it.

“Okay, Mr. Adder. We’re going to need to have you provide a urine sample, since I know that you said you were having some urinating problems,” he says. “What we’ll have you do once you get to the bathroom is take down your pants like you normally would. Use that wipe to clean up your urethral opening 一 circular motions, alright? Then when you’re feeling it, pee a little bit into the toilet, and then finish peeing in the cup. It’s okay if you can’t fill the whole thing; we just need enough to do a urinalysis on and some pH testing. When you’re done, cap the cup, and put it in the cubby door so the lab techs can access it. Alright?”

I take a deep breath. Alright. Peeing in a cup. “Okay,” I answer, standing up from my chair again.

“Great. The bathroom is down the hall, right on your right,” he tells me.

Leaving the exam room, I feel like I’m walking on a foal’s leg because of how much they’re shaking. I’ve got on nothing but my socks now, so I’m glad the floor is a carpet or else I would be shaking even more. The tiles in the exam room are pretty cold.

I find the bathroom just fine. It’s exactly where the nurse told me it is. Thankfully I can have some privacy.

Putting the cup aside on the tank of the toilet for a minute, I take down my pants... And the briefs I have on underneath them. The testicle that’s bothering me is irked a bit, and my penis springs out in a nervous erection.

I sigh deeply. Tear open the packet of the alcohol wipe. I’m just glad they’re letting me subject myself to the first medical touch below the waist.

I unfold the wipe. Hold my dick with one hand, and wipe the head with my other. Circular motions... It’s super cold and ticklish. I try to make it quick so I don’t have to subject myself any longer than I have to.

Once I’m clean, I sit down on the toilet, legs spread open for easy access when the time comes. I don’t think I have the abdominal strength to stay standing for too long, and I’m gonna be here for a hot second.

And for a bit, it’s just waiting. Especially because it’s so hard to urinate to begin with, I really have to concentrate to get it to come down out of my bladder. I try to take some deep breaths. Sit on the toilet with spread legs. Think about water. Think about hot water. Running water. Something to make it flow down. I know sometimes at a physical I’d be in the bathroom for a long time, but the nurse comes back and tells me that it’s okay if I can’t get myself to urinate. This, I feel like might be different, though. They do need to do a urinalysis. I’m sick. It’s affecting my bladder and they need to know what’s going on.

Finally, after what feels like ages, there’s a disturbance. Something’s coming down.

Legs still open wide, I reach behind me to grab the specimen cup. Push for a minute... Wait... Give it another push. Then I start peeing.

As requested, I pee a little bit into the toilet. Just a little bit. Then I position the cup between my legs, and keep the stream going. It stings. It stings a lot. Like before, it’s also a really weak stream. I don’t understand how something so weak could cause so much pain.

I can’t fill a whole lot of the cup. It hurts too much, especially because I’m forcing this. I get about a fourth of the cup full, and I hope that’s enough. It doesn’t look standard, either. Kind of a really dark yellow. Darker than if I was dehydrated.

I put a cap on the cup. Stand up and pull up my underwear and pants. Then I find that little door cubby in the wall that leads to the lab, I assume. Open that door. Put down the sample of my urine and wash my hands.

Well, that’s done. But I feel like that’s not even the worst thing that’s going to happen to me.

And that, I find out immediately when I get back to the exam room.

The nurse was just having some small talk with Eddie, I think. While I was gone, the nurse set something down on the exam bed. Looks to me like a folded up square of cloth... Light blue in color, it’s got a pattern of tiny, darker blue dots and diamonds on it.

Oh no. Oh god no. I’m in trouble now.

Owen grins when I return to the room. “Welcome back, Mr. Adder,” he greets me. “Everything okay?”

I give my crotch a tug so that my stinging dick isn’t uncomfortable in my pants. “I think so, yeah,” I answer.

“Great. Well, my job here is finished for now. I have everything I need for the doctor,” the nurse explains. “What I’m going to have you do while you’re waiting is get undressed. Change into the gown I left on the table for you. Normally Dr. Clark prefers a paper gown but he told me those muscles of yours might rip it.” He chuckles softly. “You can probably leave your underwear on for now. Dr. Clark might have you take them off later, because I know that you mentioned that you were having some testicular pain so he’ll want to see what’s going on there. Your socks can stay on. And then your job from there is to just relax. Take a few breathers. Remind yourself that there’s nothing to be worried about.”

I breathe out through tight lips. Right. Relax. Nothing to be worried about. “Okay. Thanks, man,” I answer.

Owen nods as he begins to head out, smiling softly. “Good luck, Mr. Adder,” he says. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

With that, it’s just Eddie and I.

Tipping my head back and closing my eyes, I let out a scared groan. I don’t know if I can do this... God, I’m so scared. I hate doctor’s appointments. I don’t want to get undressed. I don’t want to have my balls checked. I don’t want to be checked at all. I feel sick. I want to curl up in bed and forget this.

“Logan,” Eddie tells me softly. “It’s okay. Big breaths, dog. One thing at a time. Just start with getting undressed. Give your clothes to me, I’ll put them in your chair.”

He’s right. I gotta calm down. I’m sick... And Wes is the doctor. He’s gonna help me. I’ve got to calm down at least a little. One thing at a time.

I start with taking a big deep breath. In through the mouth, out through the mouth. In through the mouth... Back out through the mouth. And once things are clearer, I begin taking off my clothes. My tank top, leaving me bare chested. Then my cozy sweatpants. My favorite sweatpants... The gray and black checkered ones. I have on nothing but my socks and underwear. I give the rest of my clothes to Eddie, and he folds them nicely and places them aside on the chair.

Practically naked now, I use the one thing provided to me to cover back up. That being the gown. I unfold it and shake it out. Put my arms through the sleeves and close the flimsy tie in back. Yep. Ready for examination now.

Eddie nods softly. “Good. Sit up on the table. Relax,” he suggests.

Still kind of unsure, I do. I sit myself on the exam table. The soft crinkle of the thin paper makes me mildly uncomfortable. And I just sit here. Try to relax. It isn’t easy, sitting in nothing but a sheet and my underwear and surrounded by all the medical equipment. But I just try to take some deep breaths.

“There you go. Are you okay?” Eddie asks.

I just collapse my head into my hands with a deep sigh. “As okay as I’m gonna be, I think,” I tell him. “Thank you.”

“Good. Just breathe, dude,” Eddie reminds me. “You’ve gotta remember to breathe. You’re going to be more anxious if you don’t.”

The two of us sit and talk for a bit. Eddie asks me about my last checkup. How it went, if they did anything to hurt me, which of course, they didn’t. Just trying to get me to feel comfortable. I do appreciate the thought. Then he opts to take my mind off of it. I think it’s what I really need.

We’re here for a while until there’s a sharp knock on the door. “Dr. Clark!” a voice announces on the other side.

My breathing catches with anxiety, so Eddie answers for me. “Come in, Wes, he’s good.”

The door opens, and the doctor comes into the room. A young man with shaggy dark brown hair and glasses. Tall and lanky. Dressed business casual underneath his lab coat. Stethoscope around his neck with the chest piece hidden in his lab coat pocket.

A very friendly and familiar face. Wesley Clark.

“Heya Eddie. Good evening,” Wes greets him with that signature professional, yet shy grin of his. “Good to see you, buddy. I missed ya last week.”

Eddie chuckles. “Missed you too, Wes,” he says. “Glad you’re doing good.”

Wes then approaches me sitting on the table very cautiously. Ever since I met the little guy, he’s moved towards me with such shyness and delicacy. I think it’s because he’s intimidated that I’m so much bigger than he is. It’s so sweet, really. I adore him. People are crazy not to adore Wes.

“And hello there, handsome. I haven’t seen you in quite a while,” Wes says, his smile even more shy.

I manage a grin, even though I’m shaking violently seeing him dressed in his usual medical getup. “Hey. Missed ya,” I answer, trying to get my knee to stop bouncing.

Wes frowns. “Sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances,” he says. “Are you okay?”

I sigh. “I’m really not feeling well,” I admit.

Wes nods. “Aw, Logan. I’m sorry, my friend,” he says. “Can you tell me about what’s going on? My nurse tells me you have a fever.”

I sit myself up, and my knee is actively slamming against the table. With another breath, I wipe a hand against my sweaty forehead. “Yeah, I... I have a fever,” I mutter. “My stomach hurts and I feel sick... I have a lot of pain right here.” I motion to my lower stomach. “One of my testicles hurts. Just one of them. And peeing... Peeing. I just...” I bury my face in my hands. “It sucks. I have to pee all the time but it’s... It’s a force. And when I finally can, it’s not even satisfying because it hurts. It’s like I’m pissing crystals.”

I feel Wes’ delicate little hand on my shoulder. “Hey, listen. It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure out what’s going on,” he tells me. He takes my chin into both hands, lifting up my head so I’ll look at him. “It sounds familiar. I think it might be one of two things. But we are going to figure out which one so you can get the right treatment. Let’s start by checking you out for wellness purposes. Then I’ll get into the specifics and figure out what exactly is bugging you.” He strokes his hands along my jawline and nods once. “Alright?”

I nod. “O-okay,” I mutter.

Wes smiles sadly. He reaches out. And he places a very gentle hand on my viciously bouncing knee. Presses it down so it stops. “You’re shaking like a leaf,” he tells me gently. “You don’t have to. It’s okay; I’m going to take care of you. Relax, alright?” He pats my leg gently. “I know you suffer from White Coat Syndrome. But you know me; I am not going to hurt you. My nurse said your blood pressure was off the charts, but I know it’s the White Coat, so I won’t take it again. I’m just going to ask that you try to calm down. It’ll be easier for you if you relax.”

I nod. Take a deep breath. He’s right. I oughta calm down. I’m so worked up just from sitting in the exam room. “Okay,” I whisper.

Wes is still smiling. “You’re fine,” he reminds me.

Again, I nod, still breathing it off. “Okay.”

“I’ve got you. Eddie’s right there. It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

A grin comes to the corners of my lips. “Heh... Okay.”

Wes ruffles a hand through my thick, wavy hair. “You get your hair done again?” he asks.

I chuckle. “Yeah.”

“You look good. Looks really good.”

I’m smiling now. “Thank you.”

Wes laughs softly, reaching over and scruffing up my beard. “See? There’s that handsome smile. You’re okay,” he says. “Are you okay if I go ahead and check you?”

I breathe deeply. Nod once. “Yeah... Yeah, it’s okay,” I say.

“Good. I’m starting off nice and easy. Just gonna check your ears, nose and throat,” Wes explains. “Won’t hurt you.”

Wes washes his hands in the sink nice and thoroughly before he starts touching me. Then he takes out the otoscope from the holder on the wall behind the bed. Clicks on a speculum. As he’s bringing it over, I try not to look at it. It’ll just make me nervous all over again.

Very carefully, Wes brushes the hair behind my ears to keep it out of his way. He begins with my right ear. Pulls on the lobe, and inserts the speculum inside. I just sit still a minute... Close my eyes while Wes looks inside. The light tickles a little bit. The conical shape of the speculum makes an ocean sound in my ear. It only takes a second before he removes it and does the other side. Pulls my lobe, sets in the speculum, and takes a look.

“Your ears look great, Logan,” Wes tells me, clicking the speculum off and throwing it away. “They don’t hurt?”

I shake my head. “Nah. They’re okay,” I insist.

“Good.” Wes reaches forward, using a gentle knuckle to nudge the underside of my chin. “Chin up a little bit.”

I tip my chin up just enough. Allows for Wes to hold the otoscope’s light just below my nostril. He uses a tender thumb to spread it open just a little bit. He only takes a second. Checks the other nostril. Then he’s good there.

“Nice and clear,” he takes note. He takes a tongue depressor from one of the jars on the counter just behind the sink. Makes me swallow hard... Not a fan. I’ve had doctors put those way further back than they need to and it makes me gag.

“Open wide,” Wes instructs me. “Stick that tongue out.”

I open my mouth wide and stick my tongue out. Though, when Wes goes to place the tongue depressor in my mouth, I panic. Flinch and pull back slightly.

Wes grins softly. “It’s okay, Logan. I’m not going to gag you,” he says. “Just gonna push down your tongue a little bit so I can see the back of your throat.”

I breathe deeply and rub my eyes to calm myself. “Okay... Alright. I’m okay,” I say.

“That’s it,” Wes praises gently. “Open wide, tongue out.”

Again, I open my mouth wide and stick out my tongue. As promised, Wes doesn’t choke me out. He just settles the flat, wooden stick against my tongue. Pushes down a little bit and shines the light into the back of my throat.

“That’s a man. And give me an ‘ah.’”

I respond with a simple “ah.”

“Ahh,” Wes corrects me.

I respond with a slightly longer “ahh...” My voice is a little weak.

“That’s better,” he says. “Well, you’re looking clear back here as well.” He takes the stick out and turns off the light. “Your throat isn’t hurting? It’s mostly just in the ‘down there’ region?”

“Nah, throat doesn’t hurt,” I say.

“Alright good,” Wes says. He places the otoscope back in the holder, then comes back over to stand in front of me. “I don’t think you’re having eye problems but let me just look quickly.” With either thumb, he carefully pulls down my lower lids for the quickest half-second. “Yep. Just as I thought. You’re nice and clean. Now... Just relax. I’m going to touch you.”

Wes starts a careful massage of my glands. He begins under my beard, goes out and around to my jawline, then up beside my ears. Then he smooths them down the sides of my neck, then my throat, then along my collarbone. It feels okay so far. His hands aren’t the least bit cold. They’re quite soft, too, and it fits with his butterfly touch.

“Arm behind your head. I’m going to feel your armpits and examine your breasts,” Wes explains.

I raise my right arm and place it behind my head. Like before, Wes begins to just gently feel the glands under my pit. Doesn’t seem to mind that I haven’t shaved for a bit. When he has an idea of what’s going on there, he slides his hand a little further into my gown and begins a breast exam. Feels my pectoral from the outer muscle until around my nipple with gentle presses of his fingertips.

“Good. And switch,” he says softly.

I put my right arm down and raise my left arm. Same deal. Feels my armpit from my bicep to my ribs, then examines my pectoral in full.

Finishing up, Wes grins shyly. “Sorry. Just a quick breast exam; you’ve got prominent chest muscles, so it’s important to check,” he explains.

I nod. “S’okay,” I tell him. As much as I do hate being examined, I know that it’s important to have regular breast exams, even as a man. I’ve got a massive chest, and that can be a problem area, so it’s gotta be checked.

“As for your lymph nodes, they feel a bit swollen,” he explains. “It isn’t abnormal if you’re sick, but they’re not as swollen as they usually might be if you had a cold or the flu. We’ll check your groin later, since that seems to be your problem zone.” He takes his stethoscope off of his neck, and places it in his ears. “Let’s have a listen to that beautiful chest of yours. I’m just using my stethoscope.”

The chestpiece of Wes’ stethoscope is a thick, chunky one. He warms it up in the palm of his hand, then motions downwards towards me. “Just pull down the top of that gown, if you don’t mind. Just until your waist.”

I do. Let the gown slide from my shoulders and fall down in front to expose my chest in full.

Wes smiles softly, nodding once and taking the chestpiece out of his palm. And very gently, he places the cool metal against my chest.

And he just falls quiet to listen. I think at one point he raises his eyebrows in interest. Nods slowly to himself. Every so often, he moves that chestpiece to a different part of my chest. Makes sure he covers the whole heart. My gosh, he’s even delicate with the stethoscope. His touch is so light... He’s very careful pressing the chestpiece into my muscles.

After having the full listen, he removes the pieces from his ears for a moment, laughing softly. “Well, Logan. That is a heartbeat if I’ve heard one,” he tells me. “Very, very strong heart. Nothing to worry about here. Probably the strongest heart I’ve ever listened to.”

Eddie laughs from his chair over off to the side, holding up a fist. “Heart is the size of a fist, they say,” he says.

Grinning softly, I prove that point by holding up a fist. I’ve definitely got hands larger than an average man’s.

Wes puts the earpieces back in, pacing slightly to stand at my shoulder. “Wonderful. Now the lungs,” he says. “You can pull your gown up, if you’d like. I can just open up the back.”

I gladly do. Nestle my gown back up to cover my chest and shoulders.

He unties the gown in back, spreading it open a bit, places the chestpiece on my back, just below my shoulder blade. “And now let me hear you take a deep breath,” he says softly.

I do. I breathe in real big and deep. Chest breath in through the mouth, let it back out that way.

Wes moves the chest piece to the opposite side of my back. “Good. Another deep breath, just like that one,” he says.

Again, I do. Just like last time, I take another nice clear breath.

“That’s it. Very good,” Wes purrs, moving the chestpiece back across. “Again.”

And I just keep breathing nice and deep as Wes gets a full listen to both lungs. He praises me gently... Lets me know that I’m doing good.

Finishing that, Wes takes off his stethoscope, putting it back around his neck, though he leaves the chestpiece out of his pocket for the time being. “Your lungs sound just fine, Logan. I expected nothing less,” he tells me with that shy grin as he ties up the gown again. “Strong heart is usually a good indicator for strong lungs.” He takes a moment to tie my gown back up, then pats my shoulder. “Now. Can I get you to lie down for me?”

I think I panic for a minute, because Wes smiles softly, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “It’s alright, Logan. I don’t want you to be scared,” he says softly. “I’m just going to have another listen to your heart while you’re down on your back. Then I’ll listen to your tummy; sometimes if something’s wrong with it, it’ll groan in a way that’ll let me know. And if everything’s okay, then I’ll start a quick feel of your stomach. We’ll figure out what’s going on then, okay? I know the pain is centered in your stomach.”

I look to Eddie, just to make sure it’s safe.

He nods gently. “You’re okay,” he says. “Go on and lie down.” He smirks. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you,” he jokes.

Both Wes and I have to laugh at that. Wes wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Knowing that, I breathe deeply, and I lie down. Scoot my butt back on the exam table to give my legs enough room, and lie flat on my back. Again, the paper crinkles under my body. I tense up a little bit.

“Good! Are you comfortable?” Wes asks.

I nod, breathing out softly. “I think so...”

“Wonderful,” he says gently. He takes off his stethoscope again, placing it in his ears. “I don’t need you to take down your gown. But are you comfortable with me lifting it up from the bottom here?” He pinches the end of it, lifting it up just a little bit as a demonstration of what he’s going to do.

I pause a minute. He will be able to see my entire half-naked body if I let him lift up my gown. I suppose he needs to see it anyways... Besides, I know him well enough that I don’t exactly mind him seeing my body. This gives him easier access to my chest and belly.

I nod. “Yeah... Yeah it’s good,” I insist.

Wes goes ahead with lifting up the bottom of my gown, revealing my underwear and my bare chest and abdomen. He slides his hand and the chestpiece of his stethoscope inside my gown, and I feel a cool sensation as he places the chestpiece against my chest. And he just listens for a minute.

Lying here and looking up at Wes, I realize just how vulnerable I feel. I’m prone to Wes... In a position where I must accept any examination he wants to perform on me. I trust him while I’m in this state though...

As promised, it’s just a quick listen to my heart. Wes nods in approval. “Just as strong as it is when you’re sitting up. Good,” he says softly. “Now let me check those bowels.”

He moves the stethoscope down, and listens to my entire belly. It’s fine. It tickles a little bit and the chestpiece is a little bit chilly. Wes has a deep and intense listen to each quadrant of my stomach. Listening for anything that he shouldn’t be hearing. Make sure everything’s moving through my intensities as it should.

When he finishes, Wes retracts the chestpiece from my gown, letting it fall back over my body. “Well, your stomach is making all the right sounds,” he says, placing the stethoscope back over his neck. This time, he places the chestpiece back into his pocket. I notice he’s frowning. “It sounds like you’ve got a very hungry belly, though. It’s growling. Have you been eating, Logan?”

I sigh. “Haven’t had an appetite for a bit,” I explain.

Wes frowns, stroking my forehead. “Aww, Logan. I’m so sorry, my friend,” he tells me softly. “We’re going to figure this out. Okay? Get you some good food in this tummy of yours.” He grins softly, but his eyes are still sad. “Is it okay if I do some palpations on your belly?”

Again, I look up at him with nervous eyes.

He laughs softly. “Ah, sorry. Medical word,” he corrects himself. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared.”

Eddie laughs softly. “Pressing, Logan,” he explains. “It just means he’s gonna press on your belly.”

Wes nods. “Precisely,” he says. “Are you okay with that? Do I have permission to touch you?”

Taking a deep breath, I just nod. It’s gonna be uncomfortable when he hits the lowers, but it needs to be checked.

“Good. I’m going to start with your upper abdomen, then I’ll make my way down to where it hurts,” Wes explains. “If anything else hurts, let me know right away.”

Again, Wes lifts up the bottom of my gown, and because he slides both hands into the gown with no way to hold it up, it falls over his hands. He’s buried in my gown. It’s alright, though, because he knows where he’s feeling. He begins with gentle presses around my mid and upper abdomen. Around where my intestines, stomach, and spleen lie.

With the first few presses, he looks towards my face to check for signs of pain. “Does that feel okay?” he asks.

I breathe out gently. “Yeah,” I answer.

“Alright. Just checking,” he says. “You got some significant ab muscles, so I gotta push down a little harder to feel what’s underneath. It doesn’t cause any discomfort?”

I shake my head. “Nah,” I answer.

“Good,” he says gently. “Can I have you just relax and take a deep breath?”

I do. I take a deep breath. And as I breathe in, Wes nestles his hand under my ribs to get a proper feel of my liver. It’s not comfortable, but it doesn’t last long.

“That’s it. Another deep breath,” Wes instructs me.

I breathe deeply again, and allow him to reach under my ribs.

“Very good, Logan. That’s it,” Wes praises me. “Nothing wrong with this section here. Beautiful abdomen, if I do say so.” He then gives my stomach a soft stroke underneath the gown. “Now, I’m just going to feel your kidneys. I’ll have one hand around your waist area, and the other on your back. If there’s any pain at all when I press together, I definitely need you to let me know.”

With that, he does exactly that. He slides one hand around and underneath my back, and places his other hand over the side of my abdomen near my waist. And he very, very gently presses his hands together, feeling thoroughly for my kidney deep inside of me. Again, like when he was feeling my liver, it’s not painful. There’s just a bit of pressure.

“How’s that?” Wes asks.

I breathe softly. “It’s okay,” I say. “Doesn’t hurt. Just pressure.”

He nods, pursing his lips. “Pressure, hm? Sounds normal.” He then switches sides to feel my other kidney, and does the same thing he was just doing. Presses both sides of my waist to get a feel of my kidney. Like before, it’s just some pressure.

“And how does this feel?”

I shake my head. “Still just some pressure.”

Wes nods. “Very well,” he says, softly muttering mostly to himself. “It’s probably not kidney stones, then. If it was kidney stones you would be in a lot more pain than that.” He then clears his throat, grinning, though, his eyes are sad again. “Okay. I’m going to have a feel of the problem zone. I want you to relax... And when you feel the pain, I want you to describe it to me. Okay?”

I take a deep breath, and I nod. I think my hands are starting to shake again.

Wes moves his hands down underneath my gown to my lower abdomen, around where my bladder resides. And even more gentle than he was already being, he pushes down.

It isn’t him... It isn’t. It’s just... Something here is putting me in a lot of discomfort. I wince. Tense up. Hiss in pain through my teeth. Pull my knees up.

“Ooh, ooh, I’m sorry, Logan,” Wes tells me. “Just... Just try not to tense up. Relax. Try to relax.”

I try to relax, but it’s hard. Try to rest my knees out, but the sting remains. Feels like I have to leak all over again.

“So that’s the pain, hm?” Wes says softly, feeling a bit guilty. “Can you tell me what it feels like? Is it sore? Burning? Something more like a cramp?”

I swallow hard. “Sore,” I explain to him.

“Sore. Okay,” Wes mutters. “And how about that testicle that’s bothering you? Is it the same kind of pain?”

I nod. “Yeah, it... It kind of aches,” I say.

Wes looks at Eddie, and then back to me, lowers his voice a bit. “And this might seem a bit odd, but your rectum,” he whispers, trying to keep my dignity preserved. “How does it feel when I push down? Does it feel... Full, for a lack of a better term? Kind of like you have to have a BM?”

Come to think of it, it kind of does. Not like I’m going to shit myself... But like there is something lodged in my rectum. “Yeah... Yeah, kind of,” I answer.

Wes nods, having a realization moment, it looks like. “Okay. Alright,” he says. “Now, I know you’re vulnerable. But I’ve gotta check that testicle and your perineum. I’m starting to get an idea of what’s going on with you. So... Can I have you stand up? I’ll be sitting on my stool, and I just want you to stand in front of me. Take off those briefs 一 your gown can stay on. I just want to check on those testicles while they’re hanging nice and low.”

I think my stomach drops. The one protective layer I have left... I have to take it off. But I nod... I know he needs to check.

Wes helps me sit up, and get up off the table. He has me stand on the side, behind the table and out of Eddie’s direct line of sight, knowing that’ll make me feel more comfortable. Once I’m standing, I... I reach into my gown. I start pulling off my black and white briefs. And once they’re completely off, I’m totally unprotected. I’m naked, other than the gown, which doesn’t do a very good job of that in the back. I give my underwear to Eddie, and he places them aside with the rest of my clothes.

I try not to panic as Wes starts pulling on a pair of gloves. They’re teal in color... Latex. Ugh. Latex gloves. I hate gloves. Just a reminder that I’m going to be poked at in a private place. He then sits on his stool, and wheels himself over.

“Okay, Logan. I’m just going to take a look underneath here,” he tells me. “Very quick peek...”

He’s not lying. He does take a very brief and drafty look underneath the gown. Lifts it up quick, then lets it fall back down.

“Okay. They’re the same size, which is a good sign,” Wes tells me. He then looks up at me. “Is it the left one or the right one?”

I breathe out through tight lips. “Left,” I say.

“Okay. I’m going to just check here... Let me know if it’s unbearable,” Wes says.

Lifting up the gown again, he reaches underneath. As I expected, there’s a really dull and aching twinge as he takes ahold of my left testicle. I squeeze my eyes shut as he rolls it carefully between his thumb and his forefinger. It does not feel good.

Wes looks up again, frowning. “I’m so sorry, Logan. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “Is it that ache that you mentioned?”

Eyes still shut, I nod silently.

“Alright. Well, as for consistency, it feels normal. No hardness or lumps. So that’s good,” he explains. I then jump in shock as he pushes his finger into the crutch between my scrotum and my hip. “Can I just get you to cover your mouth and cough?”

I do. I place a loose fist over my lips and I cough nice and hard.

“And no hernias. Good,” Wes says. Momentarily, he removes his hand from underneath the gown. “Can I have you stand with your legs wide apart? And then I’ll need you to bend your knees just a little bit.”

Seems a bit odd, but I trust him. I stand with my legs spread wide... And I bend my knees a little, using the table behind me for balance.

“Perfect, just like that,” Wes says. “Now, what I’m going to do is move your testicles forward; I’ll be very careful, I know that you’re having pain. I’m going to use two fingers to get underneath there to your perineum and check for pain. I’m sure you know this, but just so you’re aware, your perineum is the area of tissue between your genitals and your anus. For men, that’s about where the prostate lies.”

I take a deep breath. A really big deep breath. Brace myself against the table.

“That’s a man, Logan. Let me see you keep breathing, okay? You’re okay. I’ve got you, and I’m not going to hurt you,” Wes reminds me softly.

I take his advice. I keep breathing. Breathing makes things hurt way less. All I have to do then... Is keep from completely panicking when Wes reaches back under the gown with both hand. With one hand, he pulls my sack forward and out of his way. And with the other, he reaches in back... Palpates my perineum with two gentle fingers.

Again, he’s so gentle. Even more gentle than he was earlier, and that’s very gentle. But something’s just so wrong that I suck in another tense breath. My knees start shaking and I’m afraid I’m going to give.

Wes winces. “Same kind of pain?” he asks.

Swallowing hard, I nod. I can barely speak through the lump in my throat. “Yeah...” I manage to choke out. “Yeah, but it’s more intense there...”

Very gently, Wes nods, finally removing his hands from my gown. “Very well. Stand up; you can take a seat back on the table for me,” he tells me.

I do. I hoist myself back up onto the table, sitting on it the long way. I watch Wes as he heads back over to the sink. He begins changing out his gloves for a new, clean pair, and I can’t help but get all nervous again. I think my breathing is thrown off completely and I hyperventilate again when I see him take out a packet. It’s something long... Something really long.

“Okay, Logan. Based on my examination so far, it seems like you’re showing the classic signs of prostatitis,” he explains. “I’ve got your urine sample at the lab, and I just need to do one more exam, and take one more sample. I can’t promise you’ll be too happy with me, but... I have to do a rectal exam. And I need a sample of your prostatic fluids. That’s what I need to make absolutely sure. The technicians and I will look at the samples we have under the microscope. Then I can get you some antibiotics to help you feel better, and I’ll leave you alone.”

I let out a whimper. Collapse my face into my hands. Dammit. I can’t do this. I don’t have what it takes.

Wes rushes over. I feel him rubbing my back, my shoulders. “Logan. Logan, it’s okay,” he reminds me, lifting up my face. “Everything’s going to be fine. It won’t be pleasant, but I’m not going to hurt you on purpose. I just need your full trust, okay? You trust me, don’t you?”

As nervous as I am, I do trust Wes. I know his goal isn’t to hurt me. He’s been gentle the whole time. I know he’s going to make the best effort possible to keep gentle.

“Good. I’m going to take care of you, I just need you to trust me,” Wes tells me. “Would you like Eddie to support you?”

Again, I nod. I don’t think I can make it through this without him.

Eddie’s on the case. He stands up, dragging his chair with him, and he sits it right next to the table. Comfortingly, he pats my shoulder. “You’re good, man,” he says gently. “I’ve gotcha. You don’t have to go through this alone. I’ll take care of ya.”

For a moment, I just let Wes massage my shoulders until I feel okay again. He lifts my chin up. Looks into my eyes. Smooths his thumbs over my cheeks.

“Will you be okay?” he asks softly.

My lip trembles, but I nod.

“Okay,” Wes says softly. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to have you lie down on your side and give you a quick rectal exam. Have you had a rectal exam before?”

I nod, swallowing hard again. “Yeah... Yeah... My checkup,” I breathe. “Westy Brass had me bend over.”

Wes nods. “Alright, okay,” he says. “Well, it’s going to be the same concept, I’ll just have you laying on your side; it’ll be much more comfortable for your bellyache. And you know the drill from there: finger in your bottom, plenty of lube. Check out the situation.” He then rubs my back again. “And then I’m going to have you sit up. Hold your legs open for me; I’ll sit the table up so you have some back support. I’m going to put on some fresh gloves. Put my finger back in your bottom. And I’m going to massage your prostate. This is what is referred to as milking your prostate, because it encourages a flow of your prostatic fluids.”

Wes then shows me that packet he has. There’s a clear cellophane side that allows for me to see what’s in it. Looks like a long, clear plastic tube. Paired with it is a long, thin wooden swab. A nice... Thick swab. One that might be fine for the nasals or the throat, but is too thick to fit in my urethra. Seeing it makes my breathing catch again, and I nearly panic.

“It’s okay, Logan!” Wes says soothingly, rubbing my knee gently. “This doesn’t have to go inside of you. Nowhere near your insides; not your rectum, not your urethra. The only thing going inside of you should be my finger.” He scratches my beard softly. “Understand? You trust me?”

I breathe off the sudden panic. Dip my chin.

“Alright. Now, knowing this doesn’t have to go inside of you. When your prostate secretes from the milking, we’re just going to use the swab to pick up the fluids. We’ll tube it up and I’ll take it with me to the lab. Alright?”

Again, I take a deep breath, and I nod.

“Good. Now... I normally ask my patients if they would rather if I did the milking while they swab the fluids when they’re ready. Or if they’d like me to give them one of those finger condoms and allow them to massage their own prostate while I take the sample,” he explains. “Though, I assume you’d rather I milk because of the pain you’re in, hm?”

He’s right. I’m just in so much pain I know I’m not going to do it right. So I take a deep breath. “Yes. Please,” I say softly.

Wes places the swab packet aside. “Wonderful. Now, let’s have you lie down on your side,” he instructs me gently. “Face towards Eddie; I’m sure he’s willing to help you.”

I lie down on my left side with my legs tucked in, facing Eddie. He smiles warmly, taking both of my hands and squeezing them. “Hey. You’re doing really well,” he tells me. “I know this is tough. You’re handling it like a champ. Maua pea le manava.”

I lid my eyes and breathe out. I’m glad he thinks so. I just don’t know how much longer I can hold it.

I feel Wes reach over me and push my right leg to cross over my right. Opens me up a little further in back.

“There we go. Got you into position, nice and comfortable,” Wes says. Behind me, I hear him sit on his stool, followed by the snap of latex gloves... Then a cap being popped open.

The anticipation has my stomach in complete knots.

“Okay, Logan. Really relax for me,” Wes says. “I’m going to lube your anus. It’s going to be a little cold; I’m going to use a bit more than I usually might for a standard rectal exam. It’ll take down the friction against the infection.”

I appreciate the warning. Next thing I feel is a cold, jelly-like substance on my anus. It makes me jump at first. It is very cold. Weirdly tickles a little as Wes spreads it out.

“Okay. Now, I’m going to put my finger inside of you, Logan. As I push against your anus, I want you to push out like you’re having a BM,” he explains. “Do me a favor... Take a nice deep breath in.”

I do. I focus on Eddie’s handsome face, and I suck in a nice, big deep breath. I’m going to need it.

“And breathe all the way out,” Wes then says.

I breathe out, making sure to push out all the air I’m holding. At the same time, I feel Wes beginning to push his finger inside of me. So I push against it, not unlike I’m having a bowel movement. Pushing allows for Wes’ finger to slide easily inside my rectum.

Next thing I feel is a harsh, harsh ache as Wes’ finger brushes against my prostate. Like the whole organ’s swollen up with pain. Immediately, I cry out, grit my teeth, squeeze my eyes shut. I nearly start hyperventilating, untilI I feel Eddie squeeze my hand tightly.

“I know, dude. I know it hurts,” he tells me. “Breathe through the pain. You have to breathe. Manava...”

I try. I try breathing to the best of my ability. It comes out heavy and thick, more like a wheeze than a breath. But it only lasts a minute. Wes prods again at my prostate, and yet another ache erupts through my body. My response is another sharp cry out with the pain, and even though my eyes are closed, I feel them rolling back into my head.

Eddie tries to remedy it, burying his fingers into my hair and giving my scalp a scratch while Wes is trying to finish up. Though, when I feel yet another hard, uncomfortable-as-hell press, I yelp, and I find myself squirming, trying to get away from it.

“I’m so sorry, Logan, I know you’re in pain,” Wes says very gently. “Just try to sit still for me, okay? I don’t want to make the pain worse by stabbing you or anything. Relax... Try your best to sit still. I’m almost done, I promise.”

Eddie holds my face right up against his, fingers still buried in the roots of my hair. “Just listen to him, Logan. He’s almost done... Try not to squirm,” he reminds me. “Last thing he wants is to hurt you worse. I know squirming is tempting, but... Just try to relax. It’s almost over.”

For the next half-minute, I focus on the comforting feeling of my face being right up against Eddie’s. Try to breathe slow and heavy for the next little bit.

Finally, the pressure is somewhat relieved as Wes withdraws his finger from inside of me. I no longer have the feeling of a full rectum, and the immediate pain is gone. The only discomfort I get is when I tense up my sphincter instinctively to expedite the process of Wes’ finger leaving my body.

“There we go. I’m so sorry, Logan, I know that wasn’t very comfortable at all. I hate to cause you too much pain,” Wes says softly. “Though, after my examination here... I’m almost certain it’s prostatitis. Your prostate feels very, very swollen; no wonder you’re in so much pain, poor man.” He reaches over and pats my waist. “Allow me to just change out my gloves one more time and we’ll take that sample, alright?”

Wes takes another minute at the counter to put on a fresh pair of clean gloves, while Eddie ruffles up my hair... Runs a hand down the side of my face and scratches my beard. “It’s okay. You’re gonna make it,” he tells me softly. “O le a e ola. Malolo.”

I know Wes is done when I feel the touch of his gloves against my hip again. “Alright, Logan. Let’s get you down on your back, okay? We’ll sit up the table here to make sure it’s easier for you,” he says.

With that, Eddie helps me from my side onto my back, and Wes helps sit the table up so I’m properly sitting up.

“Perfect. Now, let me get you that swab,” he says. I watch nervously as he opens that packet... Takes out the tube and the swab, the latter of which he hands to me. “There you are. Just make sure that cotton tip doesn’t touch anything; we want it to be nice and sterile, alright?” He then sits down on his stool at the very end of the table where he’d be right between my legs, if I had them open. “Now. What I’m going to have you do is sit nice and relaxed against the rest here. And I’m going to have you hold your legs from underneath your knees, nice and spread open. Your most important job from there is to relax. I won’t lie to you, Logan, because that’d be cruel: it is going to hurt. Your prostate is swollen and infected, so think of it as if I were to go and massage a big, huge scrape that got nice and infected to squeeze out the pus. It is so, so important that you breathe and relax; it’ll make it so much easier for you.” He then motions towards the cotton swab in my hand. “When you feel yourself excreting, just twirl that swab through the fluids, okay? Now, it’ll be tempting to do this because it is a very sensitive and sexual organ that feels really good, and because you’re also in a lot of pain. However, I do not want you to masturbate, alright? If you masturbate, we might also end up with sperm and seminal fluids in the sample, and for our purposes right now, I just want to look at the prostatic fluids. Trust me, I know masturbating helps with physical pain because of the release, but I just need you to hold off for now. Do you understand?”

I take a deep breath and nod. I supposed that won’t be too hard... I think I’ll be too distracted by the pain to be able to jerk it. That prostate exam really hurt, and I don’t imagine myself being able to move with the straight assault on my prostate.

“Alright. Now, can I just get you to hold those knees open? Nice and wide for me,” Wes instructs.

I do. Being careful not to touch the swab in my hand against anything, I place my feet apart on the bed. Sneak my arms underneath my knees and hold my legs open. My ass is just... Open now. My anus even puckers slightly, and that’s how I know I’m completely vulnerable. Eddie knows; he can’t exactly take my hand because I don’t have any free ones at the moment, but he still wraps one arm around my shoulders... Places a hand on my chest for comfort.

Satisfied, Wes sits on his stool between my legs, and now that I’m sitting up, I can watch him applying a generous amount of lube to his finger. Generous. Seeing as it’s seriously going to hurt, he slicks up my anus once again to make sure my rectum will be nice and slippery when he enters inside of me. When we’re both properly prepped, Wes looks me in the eye.

“Deep breath. Take the biggest deep breath your chest will allow,” he tells me.

I do. I breathe so deeply. Fill my chest completely.

“And let that all the way out. Empty out your chest entirely, and push like you’re having a baby.”

And I breathe out completely, until there isn’t an ounce of air left in my chest. At the same time, I push like I did when I was lying on my side, and I feel Wes’ finger enter me once again. There’s that pressure of a full bottom again that’s definitely more irritating than it should be.

“Good. And just keep breathing. Your job is to breathe,” Wes reminds me.

I try. I give it a genuine, good old-fashion try. For a bit, it’s fine. I can do it. It’s heavy and my chest is a little tight, but I can take some deep breaths.

And then Wes starts the massage... He makes the most gentle, most unobtrusive “come hither” gesture against my prostate.

And as soft as he’s being, all hell breaks loose.

It aches. It burns. My lower half goes up in flames and I cry out in pain. I suck in a breath, and let it out as a pained yell. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever felt. All Eddie can do is try to rub my shoulder and my chest to try to comfort me.

Jesus Christ, I’ve always been afraid of hospitals. I’ve always had a tough time going through a physical exam, or just having something as little as a hurt ankle looked at.

Never not once did I think I’d be lying back on the exam table... Screaming. Screaming in the amount of pain I’m in right now. I think even my hips are starting to throb.

In the midst of the excruciating pain, something at the very back of my neck begins to pulsate. I begin to feel very, very dizzy... My vision blurs and fizzes out, and my ears start to ring loud against my brain. I think my eyelids start to flutter, and my eyes start rolling back again.

It feels like eternity, still hurting awfully, and then I finally hear Eddie’s voice... It sounds like we’re all underwater. “Oh, shit...” he mutters. “Oh shit. Logan... Logan, what’s happening? Talk out loud.”

I feel a gloved hand on my shin, and I know that it’s Wes’ touch. He says something, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. “Stay with us, Logan,” I then hear him say clearly. “Don’t go, stay here with us.”

Eddie vanishes from my side for a second, and I feel myself being reclined back nice and easily. Once I’m fully back, I merely snap back into reality, and I’m wide awake again. I’ve still got my arms underneath my knees, holding them wide open. I still feel Wes’ finger up my butt. And the pain... The pain all floods back. Only difference is that I’m lying down flat on my back.

“Stay with us, Logan,” Eddie says softly, brushing the hair out of my eyes.

Something inside of me breaks... The floodgates, I think, because tears start running down my face. Then a few weak whimpers come out... Followed by a deeper sob. And then I just start bawling in pain. I don’t think pain has ever made me cry so much. But I’m barely able to catch my breath between sobs. They’re shattering. Eddie himself and Ian referred to them one time as “thunder god sobs.”

They only get worse when I try to talk. It’s barely comprehensible.

“I can’t!” I blubber like a baby. “I can’t do it! It hurts! It hurts so bad!!”

Eddie gives me a soft squeeze. “I know, dude. Never had prostatitis, but I’ve heard it’s a bitch. I can only imagine how much this sucks,” he says softly. “But you can do it. You can. It’s gonna be hard, but this is gonna help in the long run. Just try to hang on.” He ruffles through my hair. “Listen, man. It’s alright to cry. Cry if it hurts, moan if it feels good... Let it out, my man.” He strokes my beard. “Wes doesn’t look down on you for crying. Just... Just try to stay awake. That was scary, man.”

I don’t know what happened, but... I make myself promise that I won’t lose it again. It must have been pretty bad.

Still, I can’t stop myself from crying. It really... Really, really aches. I find myself howling out when it hurts particularly bad in certain spots. The noise comes out as a mournful, “Ah... Ah! Ow!! Owww! AHHH!!” Even through teary eyes, I can see Wes frowning with remorse.

All at once, I feel something coming up my urethra. It feels like lava, due to the rest of the pain I’m in. It makes me whimper again, but I know what it is. Had I been jacking off, I’d be at a climax.

Breathing rapidly and whimpering anxiously, I sit up just enough. Raise the swab and wait for it to come out. And it does, eventually. Like peeing, it stings like needles. It’s a thick fluid... A little bit cloudy. But as soon as it comes out, I make sure to wipe it out of the opening of my urethra. The cotton feels a little itchy, since I’m extremely sensitive at the moment. I essentially had an orgasm. My nervous erection even goes soft with it.

But it’s over... We have the sample.

“That’s it. See? I knew you would make it,” Wes praises me softly. “Hold onto that swab for just a moment...” He picks up the tube that was also in the package, craftily unscrewing the top with one hand, seeing as the other is still inside of me. Holding it out to me, he says. “Put that in here, cotton side down.”

Hand violently shaking, I drop it in with the cotton side down towards the bottom of the tube. Wes withdraws his finger, which is very uncomfortable this time, because I’m actively pushing him out like I’m taking a dump; I just want this to be over. I feel the extra lube that we used being squeezed out of my sphincter as well.

With his hand free, Wes caps up the tube with the swab inside of it. “There we go. The invasive stuff is all over,” he reassures me.

He lifts up the hand that was just inside of me and inspects the contents of the glove... And I notice something. The index finger that was inside of me... It’s... It’s coated with something. Not the lube, either... Something that’s brownish in color.

My breathing picks up again, and before I know it, I’m hyperventilating. “Oh God...” I mutter. The tears never did stop, but they only get worse from the sudden panic. “Oh God... Oh God is that blood?”

Eddie gives me a gentle squeeze again, and Wes perks up, placing his clean hand on my knee. “Oh no! No, no, that isn’t blood, Logan,” Wes tells me calmly. “It’s gonna sound gross, but that’s just stool. Totally normal. I think you might just be a tiny bit constipated 一 I know having a bowel movement with prostatitis can be painful so it isn’t unusual for men who have it to hold themselves. Nothing that’ll last very long. No blood, though; don’t worry.” He heads over to the counter, taking out one of those flat, glass slides that’s meant for going under the microscope. After unwrapping it and all from the sterile packaging, he presses his finger against it, then puts it in a specimen bag. “I am going to take a look at a small sample, though. Just to make sure it’s healthy stool. I’m sure everything’s going to look just fine.”

Finally, I collapse. Let go of my legs and lie back on the table. And I just cry my eyes out. I’m so stressed. Uncomfortable. In pain. I want to put my favorite sweatpants back on. I’ll give up wearing underwear for the rest of the day if I could just wear my sweatpants. “I wanna go home...” I find myself sobbing. “I wanna go home...”

Wes notices my distress, taking off his gloves and coming back over with a few tissues. He sits the table up just a little bit, looking over my face with a frown. “Aww, Logan. I’m so sorry. I hated doing that to you. I know that sucked. I know it made you feel violated. We’re gonna get you home real soon, so you can rest and relax this all off,” he says softly. Very softly, he dabs away my tears with one of the tissues he brought over. “Ohh, Logan... I’ve never seen you cry, but I always hoped I’d never have to. You’re always so happy.” He pauses to look at the giant tears building up in my eyes. “Aww... Just look at these big Aquaman tears...!”

I whimper, long and squeaky. Strained, almost. I blink those tears out of my eyes, Wes’ gentle demeanor somehow making me cry more.

Wes hands the tissues he was using to wipe my eyes to Eddie so he can finish the job. While he does that, he sits back on his stool. “Here. Let me just wipe your bum before I go down to the lab,” he says softly. “We used a lot of lube. Open those legs again.”

I spread my legs one more time to allow Wes to get where he needs to. Using a soft pad of medical paper towels, Wes wipes up the lube from between my cheeks. Very, very gently, until I’m dry.

“There you go. All nice and clean,” Wes says softly, wiping my tears again. “Let me get you and Eddie some time alone. Cry it all out; I’ll be back with your medicine as soon as I know what’s going on.” With that, Wes collects the samples he took from me, and he exits the exam room for a second.

Finally placing my legs down, knees still up because my butthole hurts, I can’t stop crying. Even if the inside doesn’t hurt anymore… I’m still exhausted. Uncomfortable. Naked under my gown. I know Wes was helping. I… I just want to go home. I want to go home.

Eddie rubs my chest gently, continuing with Wes’ job of wiping my eyes. “It’s alright, Logan. Take it easy,” he reminds me. “Slow ‘n’ easy.”

“I wanna go home… I wanna go home…” I can’t stop whimpering. I just want to go home. Go to bed. I’m tired. In pain. I wanna put on comfy clothes

Eddie pinches my nose between the tissues. “Blow,” he tells me.

I do. I blow my nose into the tissues. Let Eddie wipe it up and crumple the tissues to the clean side. “I know, Logan,” he tells me softly. “I know that you’re done here. I know you hate hospitals and I know that you feel assaulted.” He hugs my head close to his chest. “I know. But it’s almost over. You’ll be able to go back to Marblestone. Take a shower, get cozy. Wes is almost done. He’s just gotta make sure his diagnosis is correct, then he’ll get you some medicine to take care of your sick prostate, and then we can go. I can’t let you leave until you have your medicine.”

I don’t know what does it. After something like twenty minutes of lying back and crying my damn eyes out, my stomach starts to heave. I don’t know if it’s because I funneled a shitton of mucus down my throat, or because my chest is heaving, or if I’m just wildly anxious, but I start feeling sick. I don’t have much in my stomach, but whatever’s in me right now, my body doesn’t want it in me anymore.

I sit up sharply from the table, and I cover my mouth with my hand. Scramble off and head over to the sink, nearly tripping over my own feet. Try to hold my gown closed with no success.

“Logan?” I hear Eddie call out for me. “Logan, what’s wrong? You okay?”

I don’t have time to answer him. I lean on the counter in front of the sink. Turn on the water. Wait a second… Wait a second.

Yep. There it is.

Leaning over, I find myself throwing up. As expected, nothing’s coming up because I haven’t eaten in a while. It’s just stomach acid, so I’m guessing this is anxiety. But I keep heaving, and heaving, until my stomach hurts. Well, the water’s washing it down the sink, so I’m free to keep going.

As I’m throwing up, I hear Eddie get up. Approach me from behind. Next thing I feel is his soothing hand rubbing my back, and his other hand pulling my hair back into a ponytail and away from my mouth. “Easy, Logan,” he reminds me softly.

I’m here throwing up nothing for a long time. I don’t know how I’m not shredding my throat. Regardless, I think it’s over at least once. Sit up a little and turn off the sink. Test the waters of being upright.

“All done?” Eddie asks.

The nausea immediately starts up again. Nope. Nowhere near done.

I throw the tap back on. Lean back over. Keep puking.

Eddie sighs softly. “Aw… Logan…”

In the middle of my sick episode, there’s another knock on the door. “Dr. Clark,” Wes announces himself before he comes in again. And when he sees where Eddie and I are, he’s a bit shocked.

“Oh… Oh dear,” Wes says softly, placing a vial of pills on the table, one that has a label with my name printed on it. Coming over, he places a hand on my shoulder, leaning over to see what’s coming up. When he realizes it’s absolutely nothing, he places a hand on my chest.

“Logan, nothing’s coming up,” he tells me. “I need you to take a break; I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Take a deep breath.”

In between heaves, I try to take some deep breaths. It works. The sick goes away, and my body realizes there’s nothing that needs to come up anymore. That’s all it took.

Sitting up again, I turn off the sink again. Lean against Eddie and wipe the tears from my eyes.

Wes frowns. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice low to a whisper.

I just burst into tears all over again.

Eddie rubs my back again. “I think he’s just ready to go home,” he explains.

Wes frowns, stroking my hair softly. “I understand. It’s been a long night, hasn’t it? You must be ready for a nice, hot dinner. Warm shower,” he says softly. “Here. Let me show you your medicine and you can be on your way. The tests on your prostatic fluids showed acute prostatitis, which is exactly as I thought. Your urine sample was fine; just a little bit of blood, which is normal with prostatitis. And as I thought, your stool looked okay. Not a problem there.”

He then picks up the vial of white and teal pills that are long and oblong in shape. “This here is norfloxacin. It’s an antibiotic meant for treating urinary-intestinal infections and bacteria,” he explains. “What you’re going to do is take two pills a day for two weeks. One with breakfast, and another one before bed with any other medicine you might take. I want you to take them until they’re all gone, okay? Even if you start feeling better, make sure you’re still taking them.”

Then he shows me a blister packet of small, round pale orange pills. “And this here is a sheet of Cialis. This is meant for helping with pelvic pain associated with prostatitis,” Wes tells me. “I’m only going to give you four of these. They’re going to help with the pain, okay? Take just one of them with breakfast. Once these are gone, I imagine you’ll be feeling much better. However if you’re still in pain, feel free to shoot me a text or call me or something and I’ll write you another prescription.” Smiling sadly, he tucks the hair behind my ears. “Alright? Sound good?”

I nod, taking a deep breath and wiping my eyes and nose again.

Wes pats my shoulders. “Good,” he says. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll meet you out by my office and see you both off.”

He steps out, and I immediately breathe off a lot of the tension I had. Finally I can get dressed. Get out of this gown.

When I pull it off, I’m completely naked, of course. It’s alright… It’s just Eddie and I. Even if Wes was still here, I’d still be okay. I throw it in the laundry basket, and begin to get myself dressed. Briefs on first and foremost, then my sweatpants. My tank top, so I’m no longer naked. Then I put my sneakers and my sweatshirt back on and I’m ready to go.

“There. Feeling better?” Eddie asks.

I sniffle again, and just nod silently.

“Alright, good. Grab your medicine; let’s go meet with Wes one more time.”

Wes’ office isn’t very hard to find. It’s tucked away nice and cozy on this floor, and he’s also waiting outside for us.

Meeting with me, Wes holds out his arms, and I immediately embrace him in a hug. I’m not upset with him. Not at all. I might be crying now, but I know this is going to help me later. He wasn’t trying to make me uncomfortable.

Wes softly strokes my back. “Are you sure you’re okay, Logan?” he asks.

I breathe softly. “Mhm,” I answer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, once again tucking my hair behind my ears again. “Please don’t hate me.” I hear him laugh softly, and it almost makes me smile. He’s got a cute little laugh.

“I don’t,” I reassure him.

“Good,” Wes says softly. He sits me back up, holding my biceps and looking into my eyes. “Here. I want you to go home. Get something for dinner. Maybe some nice comfort food to make you feel better. Drink plenty of water so peeing doesn’t bother you as much. Take a shower and wash your bum and your penis really well. Okay?”

I nod, swallowing softly. “‘Kay. I will,” I say.

Wes smiles softly. “Good, good,” he tells me. “Can you promise me something before I let you go?”

Still choked up, I nod softly.

“Can you promise me that if you don’t feel better, you’ll come back here?” he asks softly. “If those antibiotics are gone and you’re still not feeling well, you’ll come back here for a cystoscopy to figure out what’s going on? A rectal ultrasound if you need one? I know those things sound rough, but if something worse is going on, we need to figure it out so you don’t end up hospitalized.”

He’s right. I’ve only heard horror stories about cystoscopies, and I think I’ve had enough done to my butt today to last me a lifetime.

But he’s right. If I don’t feel better, it’s important to figure out why. So I nod softly.

“Thank you,” Wes says. “And can you also promise me that you’ll come see me at some point for a urology checkup? Get an anoscopy, testicular ultrasound? Maybe a mammography to make sure those beautiful breasts are doing okay?” He strokes his hands down my arms to hold my hands softly in his. “It doesn’t have to be in the immediate future. But I would like you to come in at some point for a urology checkup. It’s important to your health. Okay?”

My breathing catches, but I nod. There’s no one I’d rather see for something like that. Wes is so, so gentle.

“Thank you,” he says again, giving me one more hug. “Now, go home and rest up, okay? You deserve a break.”

So with that, after Eddie and Wes say their goodbyes, we head out of the hospital. It’s time for me to go home.


On the way home, Eddie picks me up a warm dinner of mashed potatoes and gravy. Very comforting. Almost enough to make me feel much, much better. Takes my mind off of crying on the way home. I’m a bit too tired to cry anymore, anyways.

It’s not a long drive home, either. As soon as we’re back, he helps me walk back to my apartment. Gives me a hug before I head in for the night. “Hey,” he says. “Ian and Charlie said they felt bad you weren’t feeling well to join them tonight. They wanted to know if the two of us were feeling breakfast tomorrow morning?”

I grin. “Yeah. Sounds great. I’ll be up for it,” I say.

“Great; I’ll let ‘em know. They’ll probably be happy to know that you’re feeling better already. G’night, Logan. Get a good rest. Don’t forget to take your medicine.”

“Thanks, Eddie. I won’t. Goodnight.”

Once I’m alone for the night, I head into the bathroom. As Wes suggested, I strip down again. Take a nice, warm and soothing shower. Wash my butt and my junk nice and well. Makes me feel so much better; I’m not covered in hospital anymore. Also keeping the essentials clean will keep the infection at bay.

After drying off my body and throwing my hair up in a towel for a bit, I lotion up a little bit. Get on some clean pajamas and underwear. And of course, I take one of the pills prescribed to me with a nice, big drink of water.

Then I get in bed, and pass out immediately. Goddamn, prostatitis will make ya tired.

~ ~ ~

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