Csytoscopy

     As I stood in the physician’s office facing the door with my open-back hospital gown blowing in the air-conditioned breeze behind me, occasionally revealing my white ass, I remembered that I had forgot to shave my pubic hair, my dick always looks bigger when I shave my pubic hair, I can’t believe I’m having a metal rod shoved up my penis by a hot physician and I didn’t think about how I was going to look.  Then I thought, “will the physician be sexy?”.   The physician from my pre-procedure appointment was gorgeous.  He was Japanese. 

     Tall, dark hair, his ass like two basketballs wrestling under a blanket. He looked like a movie star.  He sat up straight at his desk looking through my file, his legs open, his white coat crossing his hip, resting between his inner thighs.  As I dreamed of our first night together, he said, “are you free tonight?”.  I said “yes”.  He said “why?”.  That’s when I realized his question was “are you frightened?”, tthen I bravely said “no”, he said “good, it should be fairly routine” then he charismatically explained the surgery to me.  I didn’t listen to him.  I was watching his lips move, his bottom lip pushing forward and lowering as he formed words with his tongue that then his top lip articulated.  He smiled while he spoke, his teeth blinding me.  I wondered how old he was.  He looked anywhere between 25 to 35.  As he spoke his left-hand punctuated sentences with the gestures of romantic heroes from paintings I studied at University, while his right hand flipped through the pages of my file.  I coyly observed he didn’t read a thing, like he had memorized my history, like he knew me, like he had said and done this a million times, first in front of a mirror, then in front of me, for me.  His manner was practiced.  He reminded me of an actor.  A good actor.  A hot actor.  Then he said “what do you think?” I said “good” like I had been listening to him rather than just staring at him.

     I wondered on this day, while I was looking through the cupboards of the physician’s office for scissors to coif my pubic hair, as well as search for other toiletries that I might need; will my Japanese physician be the one who would hold my penis in his hand and insert the metal rod, or would it be someone new?  I pondered how tall the physician performing the cystoscopy might be. “I’m 6ft, I’m hoping he is taller than 6ft, I like being dominated, I hope he’s 6’3” I thought. In that moment it struck me, I should turn my hospital gown around; I took it off.  Then suddenly there was a knock at the door; before I could say ‘come in’, the door began to open.  I frantically scrambled to get my nude body in the gown and just as I closed it in the frontt, with time to smile and pose provocatively, the door completed its rotation, revealing my worst nightmare, a female nurse 4’10 max.

     “Have you done this before?”, she said as she led me to the procedure room, “BTW, you have your gown on backwards, the opening is supposed to be in the back”.  “The gown is too small, I said “do you have any others?”.  “They are all the same size” she said, as I clenched my gown closed at the front because I could feel my balls shrinking in the cold air as I walked behind her.   “I like to ask my patients in case they’re frightened or worried that it’s going to hurt”, she said.   As she continued her way in, I stood in the doorway and scanned the room.  In the center of the room there was a giant metal table and stirrups hanging from the ceiling; on the table there was a tray with some rubber gloves and a fat metal syringe that had a long plastic tube attached to it.  She turned to look at me, “Could you turn your gown around please” she said curtly.  “Here?” I said, “you don’t mean here?”.  “I can leave the room if you like” she said.  “Yes’ I said, resenting that I had to negotiate my dignity. 

     I don’t know what happened next, but in moments the gown was turned roundd, and the nurse was in the room.  I found myself on the table, my feet in the stirrups, my legs spread, revealing my rosebud, while my dick rested gingerly on the table.  I stared at the ceiling, wondering if the nurse would notice the hair.  “Are you okay?”  she said.  “Yes” I said.  “You haven't answered my question” she said.  “What question” I said.  “Have you done this before?” she said.   I said, “no I haven't done this before”.  “Are you frightened?” she said.  “Of what?” I said, “the procedure” she said.  At this point another female nurse came in the room and walked up to the table to join the two of us, I said “hello”, like a flaneur.  She looked at my face, which under normal circumstances would be congenial, but in order to see my face she had to look in the direction of my exposed genitalia and look past them, I said “no I’m not frightened”, as I looked at both of them.  Then the nurse who had brought me to the procedure room said, “I’ll be back in a moment”, and the two nurses left the room together.  As I lay there, I thought of my exposed penis, bum hole, and balls and what a missed opportunity it was for the hospital to have not put a mirror on the ceiling. 

     The door opened, the nurse who initially guided me in had returned, with a big smile on her face.  I thought “what poor bedside manner, what a lack of awareness”, then I laughed, because it’s funny.  She covered me in blue hospital sheets leaving a window for my cock to peek through.  Beside it she placed a small tray.  I felt like I was in the Air Canada VIP lounge - sans free coke and cookies.  As she covered my upper body with sheets and towels, I remembered that the Japanese thespian had explained to me during my pre-procedure appointment, that the cystoscopy wouldn't hurt, but that there might be a burst of urine spray when the nurse inserted the metal rod in my penis shaft and that I should be prepared.  I looked prepared.  I looked like a tent in a conservation area on a rainy day. 

     Then the nurse said, “I’m going to explain to you what we’re going to do, then I’m going to do it, okay?”  I said “okay”. I didn’t hear a word she said, because I was staring at the goggles and elbow length gloves that she was wearing.  Then she said, “I’m going to do it now, okay?”, I said “okay”.  Then she grabbed my penis like a fisherman grabs a live fish.  I felt my dick recoil and become solid like rubber.  Not hard, that would be inappropriate, it was more like a turtle trying to hide its head.  Then she said, “I’m doing it now, okay”.  I thought “just fuckin’ do it already”. Then I looked at her face, and she was smiling.  Then I heard a sound, like a sprinkler system turning on and saw her shoulders jerk, I felt liquid land on the sheets, saw a flash of yellow light and she said, “I’m finished” like your mother would say, “dinners ready”.  “Do you wanna look?” she said.  I thought ‘sure why not’ and I looked at my penis.  It looked like a mouth, with a sock gagging it.  Then she said “look at the screen” pointing to a TV.  “We’re inside” she said.  I cranked my neck to look.  The TV screen was white, and there was a gray circle with a gray line quivering across theat circle.  I thought, what am I supposed to see here - “that is your bladder,’ she said, “We are going to take some photos.  Just relax”.  I thanked her, and then I laid there for a few moments: my feet in the air, my penis silenced, thinking about the coffee I was going to get afterward, one cream and one sugar, and then I thought this must be the way women feel when they visit a gynecologist but instead of a rod it’s a hand. 

    Then the nurse suddenly said, “I’m going to pull it out, okay?”, I said “okay”.  The sensation was different from pushing it in.   As she pulled it out, it tickled, it felt long, it felt relieving, it felt like taking a shit from my dick; A shit that I needed to take or shit my pants kinda’ shit. After it was over, I looked at my penis, it looked exhausted and unkempt; you need a break, “I thought” no masturbating for a week.  As she mopped up the floor, I made my way back to the physician’s office clutching my gown closed at the front.  In the office I changed into my clothes, and waited for someone to tell me it was okay to go home.  The door opened, a head peaked through, “you’re good to go” she said, without looking in my eyes. I felt like a whore.