This story is based upon true events that I witnessed as a young manin the early-1960's:

Angie, a neighbor of mine and an exceptionally beautiful, leggy,

long-haired brunette in her early-20's, had to visit her doctor's office

because of a bad sore throat. Because Angie was my steady girlfriend at

the time, she had asked me to accompany her for moral support. I was

asked by the doctor to remain in a small waiting room adjoining the

examination room, and the door between the rooms was slightly ajar -

enough ajar so that I could position myself to see and hear quite

clearly almost everything that was going on in

the next room at a close distance, yet without being observed. My

recreation of the events of that doctor's visit as seen through Angie's

eyes and mind is based upon what I actually saw and what she told me

later when we talked about the feelings and thoughts she experienced

during her agonizing ordeal.

Following her examination, which included temperature measurements,

blood tests, and a throat culture, Angie sat on the edge of the exam

table waiting for the doctor to return. After what seemed like an

eternity, he came in and told her that he was sorry to have to report

that she had one of the worst cases of Strep throat that he had ever

seen, and that he was going to have to give her two extremely painful

injections of long-lasting penicillin to make certain that she would not

be at risk for rheumatic fever.

The doctor explained to Angie that, because these were exceptionally

large and irritating injections, they could not safely be given into the

buttocks without undue risk of damage to the sciatic nerve. He explained

that the only muscles large enough to accept these large, deep

injections safely were on the upper outside of the thigh where there

were no critical nerves and arteries. Angie felt her throat tighten with

fear and apprehension when he said, "I know that you will be very brave,

even though large penicillin injections into this part of the thigh are

the most painful ones that we ever have to deliver. They are

considerably more painful than injections into the buttocks, but they

are much safer for the patient. Now, we need to prepare you for the

injections while my nurse draws up the syringes."

The doctor led Angie over to a high, hard-topped, backless stool, and

asked her to hop up on it, raise her green plaid, pleated skirt above

her waist, and place her feet on a platform attached to the front legs

of the stool. Then he adjusted the height of the platform so that

Angie's feet just rested on it when her thighs were pressed to their

utmost fullness by the wooden seat. This stool, he explained, would

raise the muscles of her upper thighs so that the long needles could be

inserted deeply into the muscle without striking the bone, and would

allow a nurse to restrain her tightly from behind so that she could not

inadvertently jerk enough to break off the needle. These preparations

began to cause Angie to panic inwardly. The doctor admonished her to

keep holding her skirt well above the level of her white, cotton panty

bottoms so that he could have a decent view of the injection sites.

Angie glanced at herself in the wall-mirror next to the stool. She could

see her beautiful brown legs extending from beneath her uplifted skirt -

her ample, rounded thighs sagging ever so slightly over the edges of the

small, hard, wooden seat - her lovely, smooth, diamond-shaped calves

complemented so smartly by her white ankle socks and the brown penny

loafers whose heels just reached the stool's foot rest. Looking down at

the top of her left thigh, Angie spied the perfectly round, one and a

half inch diameter scars from her double smallpox vaccination. The upper

scar was about three inches below her panty line, and the lower scar was

a half an inch below the first in the direction of the knee. These

immense scars formed a pair of deep, pearly white, speckled saucers that

glistened in the ceiling lights so that they contrasted in a rather

sensually pleasing way with Angie's soft, plump, brown thighs.

As she gazed at those scars, Angie winced at the memory of how

exceedingly painful they had been to acquire. When she was ten and a

student at the local Catholic parochial grade school, her mother had

decided to take her on a trip to visit her maternal grandparent's home

in South America. Among the many painful inoculations that Angie was

given in preparation for this trip, the doctor had recommended a double

smallpox vaccination. Two sites should be vaccinated, he said, to

improve the chances of at least one 'taking' hold, since the trip had

been planned on very short notice. Angie's mother suggested the upper

leg as the best place for the sites, since that was where her own were.

That way, the scars would ordinarily be hidden from view. The doctor

agreed, but he

remarked that, "The upper thigh area is very hard to keep dry and clean

since it is always covered with heavy clothing, so I hope that you will

be very careful to avoid infections that might affect the healing of

your daughter's vaccination." The doctor had Angie sit on her mother's

lap while he hiked her blue school jumper high above her cotton briefs

and scrubbed her upper left thigh with alcohol. She could still vividly

remember the pungent aroma and the cool sting of the alcohol on her

tender skin. When it was dry, the doctor broke a small glass ampule of

smallpox vaccine and swabbed a pair of circular patches of the vaccine

onto her upper thigh. Then, as Angie's mother held her tightly, he

worked the

still-wet vaccine into the skin with quick, light stabs of a small,

sharp stylus until he had covered the two round patches of vaccine. Even

though the process had not been too painful, Angie whimpered softly out

of fear and apprehension. He let the lesions air-dry. The doctor

emphasized, "You must keep the sores dry. They will scab over once the

vaccine takes hold, and the scabs will fall off when the healing process

is done leaving two small, barely visible scars. By all means, have

Angie keep her hands off the scabs, because there could be very serious

complications if an infection develops."

The worst was yet to come. The lesions did scab over as predicted, but

they itched so frightfully that poor Angie just could not stop pawing

and scratching at them even though her mother tried her best to keep

them covered with gauze packs and heavy clothing. Within a week, they

had become horribly infected. Angie's thigh became swollen to almost

double in size and her fever spiked to 104F. She had to spend almost

four weeks lying on the couch with her throbbing leg elevated on

pillows. Every day, the doctor would come by to lance the infected

lesions so that the pus could drain. Once he had scraped away the

putrefying scabs with a scalpel, he would scrub the open lesions briskly

with peroxide and iodine soaked gauze swabs. This was an incredibly

painful process.

Finally, he would debride the wounds by plucking the dead tissue away

with a tweezers. These sessions were so excruciatingly agonizing that

Angie spent the entire time in tears. Most nights, she cried herself to

sleep because of the relentless pain. Finally, as the infections

subsided, the proper dry scabs formed and were eventually shed. When

that happened, instead of the small, faint scars that the doctor had

predicted, Angie had as a permanent reminder of her horrible ordeal, the

huge, deep, pearly, speckled saucers that she had been staring down at

for the last few minutes.

A clatter of glass on metal snapped Angie out of her reverie. She looked

up to see the nurse beginning to assemble the pistons into two 10 cc

glass Luer-Lock syringe barrels. The injection tray contained a smaller

tray of needles of various lengths in a sterile alcohol bath, several

types of sterile forceps, a large rubber-capped bottle of penicillin, a

jar of alcohol, and cotton balls. The needles were the sturdy B-D Yale

non-disposable, metal-hubbed ones that were commonly in use at that

time. Angie gasped with frightened disbelief as the nurse fastened a

long, large bore drawing needle onto each syringe with a forceps and

then proceeded to draw each syringe full of Penicillin right to a point

slightly above the 10 cc mark. She could tell that the olive oil colored

liquid was very viscous because of the length of time required to draw

up the dose despite the diameter of the needle. Now the nurse laid the

syringes on a sterile towel on the injection tray and called out,

"Doctor, we are ready!"

The doctor came in and told the nurse to stand behind Angie and put her

arms around Angie's arms and waist so that she could not lurch enough to

break the needle. Then he walked over to the injection tray, picked up

the first syringe, removed the needle used to draw the dose, and used a

forceps to attach a 2-inch 18 gauge needle to the syringe. He pointed

the needle upward, tapped the syringe smartly several times to remove

the air bubbles, and carefully pushed the plunger to get an exact 10 cc

dose. Angie saw a small amount of serum spirt from the needle as this

adjustment was made. The doctor then pulled the piston back slightly to

pull a small air bubble back in on top of the serum charge. This bubble,

he explained to Angie, was to make sure that all of serum was pushed out

of the needle into to muscle so that it would not leak painfully back

into the fatty tissue over the muscle upon withdrawal of the needle. He

also explained that he would use the so-called "Z-track" technique which

involved displacing the tissues upon insertion and withdrawal of the

needle to prevent painful serum leakage into the tissues over lying the

muscle.

Angie's voice quivered as she asked, "Why are you using such a huge

needle?"

The doctor replied, "The needle is two inches long because the serum

must go deep into the muscle where it will be contained for several

weeks without leaking into the subcutaneous tissue above the muscle. The

large bore is required because this type of Penicillin is extremely

viscose. It is suspended in oil so that it will be absorbed slowly and

can act for a long time. I know that this will be exceedingly painful,

but I know you can endure it. However, we will proceed very slowly to

minimize the pain, and if the pain becomes unbearable, let me know, and

we can stop for a while and inject the rest of the serum at a different

site. We really do need to get all of it into your body to make sure

that you will be healthy in the future. Are you ready, now, Angie?"

Angie nodded tearfully, and the pungent aroma of alcohol suddenly filled

her nose as the doctor scrubbed her upper right thigh. She began to

tremble as she felt the cool sting. The nurse squeezed her tightly from

behind.

Now, the doctor stretched the skin on the fattest part of her thigh

taught and raised the large glass syringe above her leg like a dart.

Angie felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach as she realized how long

the needle was and how thick it looked. The sharp, beveled tip was

frightening. "Take a deep breath and exhale slowly", said the doctor.

Angie did so and watched in horror as he plunged the lumen of the needle

into her thigh to about a third of its length. She could hear the taught

skin pop when the needle entered. She could feel and see the muscle

recoil inward with a sudden, spring-like spasm. The pain was so much

greater than she had expected. Slowly, the doctor pushed the lumen in to

its full two-inch length, and Angie could feel the painful pressure and

popping as the needle traversed the fascia of the muscle layers in her

leg. She gasped and bit her lip. Hot tears filled her eyes despite her

attempt to maintain her composure.

Finally, when the hub of the needle rested firmly against the tight skin

of her tender thigh, he stopped, grasped the bottom of the syringe with

his left hand, and pulled back on the piston to aspirate. Seeing no

blood rise in the syringe, he knew that he was not in a blood vessel and

that the charge would go into muscle tissue.

"Hold her very tightly now," he said to the nurse. "Angie, keep very

still and try not to tense your muscles, because that will make the

injection much more painful. I'm going to inject the serum now." Then,

he stabilized the syringe with his left hand. The hub of the needle was

pressed tightly to the skin of Angie's aching thigh. The doctor began to

very slowly depress the piston with his right hand. Angie jerked with

surprise at this new searing pain, and tears began to well up in her

eyes as the piston moved very slowly down the barrel. She could feel the

painful tearing of the muscle tissue as it expanded in small, sudden

pops to accept the large oily mass being forced into her poor leg.

Despite the almost unendurable pain of the injection, Angie felt a

strange, erotic spasm in her groin as she

viewed the sight of the deeply embedded needle and the slowly descending

piston of the huge syringe pushing the amber-colored penicillin deep

into her aching thigh. At about the 5 cc mark, when Angie was still

barely holding onto her dignity, the piston stalled as she tensed her

muscles uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry", said the doctor, "but I will

have to exert much more pressure to get the serum to go into your leg

because you are tensing up so much. Please try to relax." Angie nodded

through her tears, and bit her lip as he squeezed the plunger harder and

harder. Suddenly, she felt a searing rip as the muscle tissue parted and

the piston started to drop again, now faster than before. Angie broke

into uncontrollable sobs. She had never been in such agony before. Her

calves became even more perfect diamonds as she dug her toes into the

stool's footrest with all her might and pushed back against the nurse

behind her. The nurse massaged Angie's arms gently to ease the pain, but

it was of no use. "Please stop, Please stop. It hurts so much," she

cried. But by then the piston had reached the bottom of the barrel.

The doctor pulled the skin on her leg to one side and slowly withdrew

the needle using the Z- Track technique to keep serum from leaking out

of the muscle. Then he took an alcohol swab, dabbed away the trail of

blood that ran down the side of Angie's leg and slowly massaged the huge

knot that had risen on her thigh. "I'm very proud of you, Angie," he

said. "I know how very painful that was." He told the nurse to keep

massaging the area for a few minutes while he prepared the next

injection. Angie continued to sob uncontrollably, because the pain just

would not go away.

Now it was time for the final injection. Angie watched tearfully as the

doctor twisted a new two- inch 18 gauge needle onto the second 10 cc

glass syringe. Again, he cautioned the nurse to restrain Angie tightly,

and he cleansed her upper left thigh with alcohol. As he stretched the

skin on her plump thigh to make the injection, he noticed that her upper

vaccination scar was right in the middle of his intended target area.

Angie felt so frightened as she stared at the needle poised above her

thigh that she thought she might faint, because now she knew how

horribly painful this injection was going to be.

The doctor said, "Angie, I am going to have to make this injection right

in the center of your upper vaccination scar, and because the scar

tissue is tough, the initial thrust may be quite violent. Please don't

be alarmed." Then he plunged the needle in with considerable force, but

the thick scar tissue prevented it from penetrating more than a few

millimeters beyond the beveled tip. Now Angie had to watch in agony as

he bore down hard to push the long needle slowly and painfully into her

waiting thigh. The painful pressure and popping of the muscle fascia

quickly forced her to break into tears.

Once the needle had been thrust in up to the hub, which pushed tightly

against the bottom of the pearly vaccination saucer, the doctor

aspirated the syringe. "Breath very deeply, exhale slowly, and hold

very, very still", she heard as the painful injection process began anew.

Even through her intense pain, Angie was fascinated by the unexpectedly

erotic twinges that coursed through her groin as she observed the long,

thick needle slowly penetrate the center of her pearl-white vaccination

scar, saw the needle hub pressed tightly into the bottom of the scar,

and watched the slow movement of the piston of the huge syringe driving

the viscous, amber serum deep into her aching thigh. A sudden incredible

increase in the pain made Angie tense up violently despite her knowledge

that this would just make things worse. Her lovely, brown calves were

quivering with pain from tension when the piston stalled at the 7 cc

mark. Despite the doctor's best efforts to get the piston moving again

with more pressure, it remained stuck. "Oh God! Oh God, please stop! It

hurts so bad," screamed Angie, "Please, please stop. Stop!"

"Alright, I'm going to stop and withdraw the needle for now and let you

rest for a minute," said the doctor. He hadn't even gotten half of the

dose into her thigh yet.

The nurse massaged Angie's swollen thigh while the doctor installed a

fresh two-inch 18 gauge needle on the syringe. "OK, Angie,", he said,

"Can you handle the last 7 cc? We simply have to get it in there for the

sake of your health. I hope you can be brave." Angie nodded slowly, and

watched as the doctor spread the skin on her plump left thigh tightly

again to receive the needle.

This time, he plunged it into the center of her lower vaccination scar,

and drove the lumen in slowly until the hub rested against the bottom of

the vaccination saucer, aspirated the barrel, and then proceeded to

drive the serum in by slowly plunging the piston. Again, despite that

fact that her tears flowed freely because of the intense pain, Angie was

dully aware of a mysterious erotic feeling that seemed to stir deep in

her pelvis as she watched the injection. An unbelievably intense,

searing pain suddenly flooded Angie's consciousness as a new pocket of

muscle tissue tore away to admit the invasion of the oily serum. The

nurse had to restrain her tightly. Angie's body jerked back and forth in

agony. Her lovely, brown, diamond-shaped calves contracted

spasmodically. As the piston neared the bottom of the barrel, Angie was

reduced to a sobbing wreck.

The doctor slowly withdrew the needle and said, "I'm so proud of your

bravery, Angie. We're all done now. You may lie down on the examination

table over here until you feel a little better. After my nurse massages

your injection sites, I would like you to wait for about thirty minutes

to make certain you have no adverse reaction to the injections." Then he

gently swabbed the blood off the two new injection sites with alcohol.

Angie lay down on the examination table while the nurse massaged the

lumps that now made her formerly concave vaccination scars appear as

small, shiny, raised domes. As Angie lay there on her right side

replaying the painful incidents of the previous half hour in her mind,

she suddenly became aware that her clitoris had become fully engorged,

and that her white, cotton panties were absolutely soaked with vaginal

fluid. She slowly, secretly thrust her left hand down her panties so

that she could stroke her throbbing clitoris.

Within a few minutes, Angie's groin exploded with the most powerful

orgasm she had ever experienced. As her thighs tensed, the increased

aching of the knots in her injected muscles only seemed to heighten the

intensity of her orgasm. It went on for a very long time. "I'm glad

you're feeling a little better, dear" said the nurse. "It's alright for

you to get up now."

Angie rose slowly, dropped her skirt, limped painfully into the

next-door waiting room, and collapsed, sobbing, into the arms of her

waiting boyfriend. He held her gently for the thirty minute waiting

period while they talked quietly about her experience, and then he

helped her to limp out to the car. Angie was unable to stand without

help for three days because of these deep, painful thigh-injections, and

was still able to palpate the three painful injection-site lumps for

nearly three weeks after this horrifying ordeal.

Postscript

Angie talked often about this ordeal during the remainder of our

relationship. Strangely, although it had been exceedingly painful, she

found that the thoughts that were aroused by the experience were highly

erotic. She often expressed a desire to have another similar injection

series. As far as I know, she never had another such experience.