I have shared this anecdote elsewhere on Zity so apologies if it is repetitive for some. But it also seems relevant to this thread about surprise rectal temperatures.
I got sick one day when I was about 11 or 12 and stayed home from school. As I recall, it was some kind of sinus infection, and my mother needed to take my temperature before calling the doctor’s office.
It had already been several years since Mom had switched me to oral temperatures. That earlier transition, which occurred when I was 5 or 6, had marked the onset of my lifelong passion for rectal temperatures. Unlike my friends and siblings, I had never objected to rectal temps and indeed resisted the transition to oral. I knew it was infantile, but I enjoyed being treated like a baby and appreciated those quiet moments of intimacy with my mother. And I definitely didn’t enjoy the smell or feel of the sharp, pointy-tipped oral thermometer in my mouth. So, I was never keen on oral temps and tried many times (always without success) to “sabotage” the readings when I was sick, for example by coughing or drinking cold water just before the procedure. My hope was always to get Mom to determine she needed to use the “baby” thermometer again.
It was in that context that I waited that day in my bedroom for Mom to arrive for the dreaded oral temperature. But to my surprise, she announced that she had broken (or maybe lost) the oral thermometer and didn’t have time to go to the pharmacy. As a result, she would exceptionally have to take my temperature in my rectum. Knowing by that age that my longstanding craving had sexual connotations, and in order to hide my true emotions, I made a face pretending to be displeased. But inside, I was secretly thrilled at this turn of events.
My heart was pounding when Mom came back into my bedroom. She had already prepared the thermometer, and the stubby tip was covered with a large dollop of Vaseline. She had me roll over onto my stomach. (I don’t remember if she said “tummy”, but that word has long been a trigger for me, so it’s possible.) She lowered my pyjama pants and briefs just enough to bare my buttocks. I honestly wouldn’t have minded getting completely naked but was of course too ashamed to propose that. With a swift motion that reflected her long experience (I was child number 4, so she had taken many temperatures!), Mom spread my buttocks and deftly inserted the cool rod, which I felt slide deep inside me. Having mistaken my earlier pouting for embarrassment, she quickly pulled up the sheets to give me privacy and left me alone with the thermometer protruding from my bottom.
Then came the second surprise. Mom was apparently not so sensitive to my modesty after all, because she mentioned what was happening to my little sister, who, at that time, would have been just about at the preschool “transition” age and thus well aware that rectal temperatures were for babies and small children. My sister came into the bedroom with a smirk on her face and stayed with me the whole time that the thermometer registered. She couldn’t see my bare bottom but was obviously relishing the ignominy of her big brother’s situation. For me, the incident was humiliating and titillating at the same time. It left a deep impression on me, fuelling many of my future fantasies.
Mom purchased a new oral thermometer later in the day, so my adventure never got repeated. To this day, I still wonder whether she would have continued with the rectal thermometer if I had shown more receptiveness on that occasion. One of my life’s many regrets!