I Have An STD

I recently went to the doctor’s office for my annual check up. There’s really nothing wrong with me physically, although some people might argue that I have mental issues since I like to take pictures of the big shits I take, but I force myself to go in once a year just before winter to get the annual check up and flu shot at the same time. And wouldn’t you know it, five hours after the visit I realized I never received the flu shot. Nice.

I got to the doctor’s office five minutes late which sent me in to a little bit of a panic. The combination of being late and being in a building with one million needles had my heart feverishly beating to the point where I could see the veins in my arm jumping. Ok, calm down, you’ll be out of here in 30 minutes.

The nurse checked me in for the height/weight/urine sample within three minutes of my arrival. She started pulling the height measurement thingy up and stopped, looked up at me (she was only 5’1”), and realized she wasn’t going to be able to measure me. I saw the look on her face and said “Six foot four” to which she smiled and wrote it down on the clipboard. Then she had me step on the scale. “I’m going to guess 218 lbs with jean on.” I had just weighed myself at the gym three hours earlier so I was pretty confident with my estimate. She must have missed the “weighing in patients” day in school. She started with the big weight at 150 and started sliding the top one over in 10 lb increments. When she got up to 190 she finally realized it wasn’t going to work and flipped the big weight over to 200. And what do you, 218 on the dot. I was a little bit worried I’d be off since I had just shot a load on the Renter’s toothbrush, but I guess that didn’t affect it too much (didn’t affect the weight on the scale, might have affected the flavor of her toothbrush).

One guy I talked to didn’t think guys actually weighed themselves or even cared. I am not one of those men. I weigh myself every day at the gym and actually have kept record of it since February 21. Somehow I don’t think I’ve put on 12 lbs of muscle since then but I’d like to think it’s all in my penis as it has been looking rather large and heavy lately and makes little Asian girls cry when I stick it in their asses. I don’t think I’m really vain or anything but then again I caught myself checking out my arms in the mirror while I was playing pool last night so maybe I am. But you have to give me credit for not pulling out the 12 lb penis and checking that out in the mirror. I also didn’t want to put the black guys I was playing pool with to shame ‘cause I’m nice like that.

The nurse handed me a cup and asked if I could give a urine sample. I drink 160 ounces of water every day at work, yes, I think I can give you a sample. So I filled the cup, fished off the rest in the toilet and washed up. The nurse led me to an exam room where she took my elevated pulse (there were needles in the room!) and blood pressure. For some reason she never gives me the results so I have no idea if the readings were good or bad. Even if she did tell me the results I’d have to ask her if they were good numbers or not since I have no idea what the ideal figures should be. I should look in to this sometime so I can have one more thing to worry about besides if the Renter bought more whipped silk body wash so I can beat my meat in the shower. If/when she moves out I’ll have to go buy my own.

After the nurse packed up her shit she gave me a gown and told me to take off my shirt and jeans and the doctor will be in shortly. I don’t know about most people but I’m not self conscious about my body and would rather go through the exam without a table cloth strapped to my neck. They’re big, they’re awkward, and they’re a bitch to tie when you’re used to having Velcro on your shoes (don’t laugh, mom never taught me how to tie and I think the “can’t teach an old dog new tricks” is in effect). But, not wanting the doctor to think that I’m some exhibitionist sitting there in just my tighty whities, I put the gown on and stared at some lame picture for five minutes.

First thing I noticed when the doctor walked in was the ring on her finger. Fuck, there goes my chance of dinner and sex with my older but aging very well doctor. I was all prepared to arouse myself and show her “everything” that I had to offer but now my plan was shot down the tubes. We went through the usual questions, are you still smoking, how much, are you working out, any illnesses lately, is your 12 lb penis still up to the task of making me scream, you know, just the basics. She had me lie down on the table and started feeling my internal organs through my stomach. Having her fingers poking on my stomach felt really fucking weird and made me laugh a couple times. I don’t think I’m ticklish or anything but seriously, when was the last time someone poked you just below your rib cage to see if some organ was indeed intact and in the right place? Question for the day: do your organs move or sag with age like women’s boobs do?

And then the fun part came. She always gets this “I’m sorry but I have to” look on her face when it comes time for the testicular check. Little does she know that I’m more than willing to drop trou in front of attractive women (even if they didn’t ask me to and may or may not call the cops). So I pull down my underwear and lift up the gown as she gets on one knee. I thought about doing a little hip movement to possibly smack her on the forehead with it but decided not to as the cop shop was just down the street and I still had to put my clothes on before I could run out of the office. Oh, and they kind of know who I am so even if I ran I’d still get caught. Unless I could blame it on an uncontrollable cough…

I was a little bit disappointed that she put on a glove to fondle my balls. I mean, she gave the rest of the exam without gloves on, why not my balls? They’re clean, semi shaven, normal looking balls (except I think one is bigger than the other). “Is everything ok down here, no pain or anything besides me grabbing them?” “Uh, no, no pain.” The first time I ever saw her she said “Hmmm, nice.” as she was down there. I’m still contemplating what she was referring to five years later. I’m sure she still thinks about that day as she’s lying in bed at night, too. So I got my balls fondled for a $10 co-pay. I was thinking about going in every week since I don’t think $10 is an outrageous amount to pay to get your balls played with. I’ll just tell them I’m a hypochondriac or something and not a sexually deprived pervert.

She brought out the blood work chart and started going down the list.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had an STD test done.”

“Is there a reason you might think you need one?”

“No, not really, but my roommate sometimes sleeps with me and wanted me to get one.”

Ten second pause…

“Who would be more likely to have something, you or him?”

Yes, my doctor thought I was gay. I quickly jumped in explaining the roommate was a short busty Korean girl who cries when my dick is in her ass. I think I gave the doctor a little bit too much information as she just stared at me for a very uncomfortable period of time.

“How do you want to do it? One way is to stick a cue tip up you or we can take another urine sample if that’s possible.”

Why do these women question whether I can pee or not?

“Uh, yeah, I can pee again.”

She wished me luck and told me to get dressed and that the nurse would come in to take me to the lab. Oh, and to give me a flu shot which she fucking forgot and I hate doctor’s offices so much I probably won’t go back to get one (unless they’re offering ball fondling too).

The lab tech was girl a little younger than me. She seemed to be a little bit on the quiet side so of course I had to fuck with her.

“You don’t mind if I don’t watch, do you?”

Halfway through.

“Are we having fun yet?”

After it was done.

“Why is pulling the needle out so much less painful?

“It’s because the needle is going through fatty tissues in your arm.”

“Oh, so now you’re calling me fat?”

“No, no, no, everyone has fatty tissues in the veins.”

She showed me in to another room where I was supposed to fill another urine cup for one of the tests. It was then that I realized why everyone asked if I could pee or not. She told me to fill it up to this line and wouldn’t you know it, I barely had enough in me to reach the line. After that I was finished, walked out of the lobby and lit up a cigarette feeling just like the Marlboro Man except in a not so masculine way (couldn’t even look at the needle, pussy). But it was officially over.

I really don’t know if I have an STD or not, haven’t gotten the test results back yet. If I do I hope its something really rare and dramatic like my penis will fall off inside some broad’s vagina while we’re having sex or something cool like that. I just put that title up to possibly throw a little fear in any past girlfriends who might read this or hear of it. So if you have slept with me and have spent the last five minutes reading this in horror, good, mission accomplished. I love being a dick.