I already described it in my stories (one submitted here - sorry for a shameless plug), but it doesn't hurt to write a short(er) one in this thread for the crowd.
Being an AB, my fantasies revolve around the age regression. So assuming I was regressed into a seven year old boy body, I'd be taken by my mom to a pediatric clinic. Obviously since such miracles cannot happen in real life, I am free to further "customize" my imaginary parallel universe (kinky virtual reality, schizophrenic delusion or whatever you call it) by bending its demographics and physiology towards my preferences... uhm, I mean "fears". To be specific, I fear something embarrassing and unpleasant. Not sexual or painful. An innocent fantasy in my opinion, it may be too much for the sensitive consensual 18+ only ABDL crowd. For whatever reason... if it's not your thing, please don't read any further.
There are no males over 10 in my parallel universe. No females over 45. Hey, everyone stays young forever. I didn't mean to offend you age-wise. Come on. Be young(er). Use your imagination. AB girls can adjust this world to their preferences. In any case, as much, as I respect male physicians and nurses in the real world, I don't want to see them in my fantasies, and there were almost none during my childhood in my (Eastern European) country of origin. Especially among pediatricians.
My mommy is let's say 27y.o. Why not? No poverty or career BS to delay the joy of motherhood until thirties. The doctors (pediatricians), female of course are somewhat around that age too: late twenties to mid thirties. The nurses are 19-25. Why not combine the last two years of high-school with a three-year RN program? I don't care at all about the boobs, ass, or legs. I'd say not excessively skinny or obese. A petite to slightly chubby build. Just normal bodies, like it is in real life. Face-wise however: the only thing a shy seven year old would pay attention to looking at adults... a cute round/triangular "babyface" is a must: the big eyes, upturned nose, and sensual lips. The sweetest slightly condescending smile. Not a creepy cosplay "anime girl" look, but pretty close. The freckled girl next door kind of beauty.
Hope that's enough clues to visualize my world residents. The action described below is important, but it is more about emotions for me: lust mixed with shame, feeling little and inferior in the presence of stunningly beautiful older girls, etc. I'm not sure about you, but I had countless pathetic elementary school crushes on young nurses (particularly medical students at hospitals) and teacher substitutes (also college student interns). Want to relive those sweet and innocent memories. Nothing incest or remotely "sexual". Hadn't discovered the intercourse at that age.
So, knowing quite well, how pediatricians in my world examine all kids regardless of their age: like babies, I dread the periodic (monthly) check-up and whine to my mom. Insert spanking if it's your thing. I'm somewhat indifferent to corporal punishment. Let's say one slap would suffice to quiet me down. The thorough bath paying particular attention to my butt and boy parts, since my mom wants me to be clean for the doctor to show her what a good care she takes of me: no diaper rash, etc.
We drive to the clinic in a Volvo wagon. My mom is the opposite of a "real housewife of ...". Whether it's a multi-story building or not, my pediatrician's office is on the first floor. All exam rooms have large windows facing a busy sidewalk or a parking lot. Blinds and curtains are irrelevant since they are never used. Maximum natural light. No one is concerned with little kids privacy in my world. The examination happens on an oversized padded changing table: the dresser kind. Anyone in the Eastern Bloc should remember that piece of pediatric clinic furniture. Set right by that window. Where else you'd put it?
The scale and the height plank are right there, inside the room (was like that during my childhood), but it could be as humiliating being walked out of the exam room naked to stand on the scale in the hallway in everyone's view. Yeah, as you probably expect, that's the first thing the nurse would ask my mom to do: undress me completely. Every child under the age of 10 needs to be examined naked. Not in his diaper, duh?
The nurse smirks noting my diaper is wet after my mom takes it off me. Makes me blush. The worst is yet to come: being lifted on that table by the window. Though the weight and height part is embarrassing enough. Why all the doctors and nurses are so young and pretty? The worst situation to be seen like that: naked and helpless like a toddler.
She smiles and lifts me onto the changing table, laying me on my back. She raises my legs, takes a couple of wipes and cleans my package and butt. It tickles: so cold. Her fingers too. Oh, did I forget to tell you how ticklish I am? Especially in the crotch. Well, everyone knows where little boy's most ticklish spots are. I'll reveal another tickle-related secret in a bit. For now I lie there with a red face enduring her tickling ministrations.
She proceeds to the temperature, producing a special rectal thermometer: a plastic stick with a bulb, that looks almost like a lollipop. Hey, that's how some evil medical expert designed thermometers in my world. The nurse sticks it in my bum after thoroughly lubricating it with her finger. All of that is happening in the diaper position with my knees pressed to the chest.
I am on the verge of crying. To make matters worse, and if you still remember, that the room is on the first floor, I hear some faint laughter outside. Turn my head and face the gaze of three 13-14y.o. girls outside the window: giggling and pointing fingers at me. The nurse smiles. "Don't be shy, sweetie. Ain't nothing anyone hasn't seen before." Or something along those "no big deal" lines. I'm just a little kid at the age of seven, not different from a toddler. Anyone can see me naked and help my mom change my diaper.
She puts a thickly folded diaper cloth under my bum "just in case", making me blush more, since I realized the lollipop-looking thermometer did cause the #2 urge, as it typically does to babies. With all the wiggling and twirling it in my bum, duh? Which she sure does on purpose to punish me for squirming and trying to break free. Needless to say all kids in my world are extremely sensitive to such stimulation exhibiting acute urge incontinence: both #1 and #2. More on the former below.
The nurse tells me that while I am lying legs-up on my back with a thermometer in my bum she's going to collect the urine sample. I turn my head to the window again. Yes, those damn giggling teenagers are still there, watching. She asks my mom to hold my legs: push them up and spread them more to provide her fingers easier access to my boy parts. Wide open, I feel helpless and vulnerable. I start to sob. My mom tries to comfort me, stroking my hair. Nevertheless firmly holds my legs. The nurse sighs with a condescending smile and sticks a pacifier in my mouth. Threatens me with shots if I spit it out.
Then she shows me a plastic cup. She'll catch the rest into a bigger jar. She takes my willy into her cold fingers and points it into the cup. She smiles sweetly and asks me to do tinkles. I am mortified. Refuse to do so. Wish the Earth would open and swallow me. So she winks at my mom and tells me she's going to help me with my little boy's business.
Suddenly I feel her cold fingers stroking the back of my ball sack. It tickles so badly, causing instant goosebumps. My whole body shakes. I try to kick my legs and break free or at least squirm to evade her fingers, but my mom holds me down. The tickle (the bent physiology part) causes an unbearable urination urge. Ten seconds... all I can take before I lose control of my bladder and let out a jet of pee. She smiles: "Good boy! Wasn't so hard, was it?" The girls outside the window laugh. The nurse keeps tickling my balls and behind them, resulting in new convulsive streams, met with her remarks: "Look at that!", "You did need to go #1, didn't you?", "Now you are really trying.", etc. Too much "watersports" for you?
That's when the young and beautiful doctor comes.She comments on what's happening with a condescending smirk. My face is redder than a fire truck. She asks my mom tons of embarrassing questions about my wetting and messing habits during the day and at night, constipation, genitalia development, and other humiliating topics. Sighs about my diaper situation and gives the potty training advise.
The nurse notes it's time to take the thermometer out. She withdraws it in a quick motion. Quite unpleasant, considering the bulb size. Makes me involuntarily poop a little on the diaper cloth under my butt. The doctor comments again. Absolutely normal infant reaction. Instructs my mom to use a rectal thermometer at home to make me regular. Maybe lubricated by liquid soap instead of KY jelly. The nurse quickly wipes my butt and crotch with the same cold wipes, replaces the diaper cloth under me, and I am all ready for the doctor.
The doctor puts on the stethoscope and listens to my lungs and heart. I'm still lying on my back, like a six-month old. She turns me on my side to listen to my lungs from the back. I face the teenage girls outside the window. I try to cover myself - to have my hands slapped away and told that little boys shouldn't play with their pee-pees.
Then the doctor returns me to my back to feel my tummy. Her fingers are so cold. It tickles, as they get lower and lower. I let out a loud fart. So embarrassing. She smiles and advises my mom to massage my tummy to relieve gas. Praises her for taking a good care of my skin. No sign of diaper rash.
She spreads my legs to inspect me further. Perfectly healthy pink skin in the crotch as well. She takes my willy in her cold fingers. Checks if the foreskin retracts all the way. It doesn't. She explains the gentle stretching technique to my mom: to be performed daily immediately after my bath, when the skin is soft and stretchable. Takes about two weeks to make the foreskin fully retract.
You are probably wondering how she hasn't noticed it before - being my pediatrician. Let's say we just moved to that new city. And there are no "primary care physicians" in my world (or another HMO BS for that matter). Just a pool of doctors and nurses at the local pediatric clinic. Sharing the patient chart/notes. You get assigned to whoever is available. Adds to the humiliation: being seen naked by a new doctor/nurse every time you come there. BTW, a couple more nurses or the admin girl can come into the room to ask the doctor something. They'd knock of course, but the doctor would always allow them to come in. No privacy for little patients.
The doctor leaves my willy alone and proceeds to examine my little balls. I flinch at her cold touch. Tickles pretty bad, and I feel the #1 urge start to build up again. The doctor lifts my legs and examines behind the scrotal sack. I shudder at the sudden sharp tickle, instantly squirting a burst of pee. She smiles saying little boys can't control their bladder even when it is almost empty. Proceeds to explain to my mom, that she was checking my cremasteric (spelling?) reflex. Demonstrates it again on each testicle, making me involuntarily pee. I have to endure the mortifying and extremely unpleasant ministrations. For the record I do know how that reflex is checked, but it's my world, OK? 😃
She puts on a glove, lifts my legs again and proceeds to check my bum with her finger. My tiny willy, already semi-hard after her tickling ministrations, jumps to live pointing straight up. She just chuckles. The nurse too. Not to mention my mom's smile. No unprofessional comments how much I am "enjoying it". Maybe some jokingly asked question if I'm going to try to pee on her again with a pee-pee like that, since it means only one thing for little boys. Asks my mom how often I spurt baby boy fountains during diaper changes. My mom tells her "Pretty much every time." "Well, boys being boys..." You can guess the color of my face listening to that conversation.
Finally the exam is over. The doctor casually wipes my butt with a baby wipe and tells my mom, that she can diaper and dress me. Takes her tablet and starts entering her notes. While talking to my mom about pottying me, the constipation topic of course, advises on cleansing enemas at least two times a week... If my mom finds it too much hassle, they can send a nurse to do it. Forget the insurance, everything is free.
And that concludes the dreaded visit to my fantasy pediatric clinic. We walk out, met with the group of the teenage girls, who watched it through the window. The prettiest of them stifles the giggle and tells my mom "What a cute son you have". The other two comment on my diaper clearly noticeable under somewhat tight babyish pajama-style pants. Pulled by my hand, I walk to our car, still able to hear their giggles behind my back.