Date: Sun, 18 Apr 2004 12:59:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jake Marks <jakemarks74@yahoo.com>
Subject: What's Up, Doc? chapter 1

Long-time Nifty reader, first-time Nifty writer. I've got more stories where
this one came from. You guys let me know what you think.

LEGAL: If you have a problem with adults using their bodies however they want
to...don't read this.



WHAT'S UP DOC? - a Nifty exclusive by Jake (jakemarks74@yahoo.com)

Chapter One

I couldn't believe what the doctor was telling me. Before I bent over I asked,
"Do you really think this is necessary?" He nodded, so I closed my eyes and
gritted my teeth. I couldn't help jumping as I felt the cold gel on my ass...

I guess I should start my story a little earlier. My name is Jake M., and I'm a
thirty year old professional in an industry that's insular enough that I'm not
going to name it here. You're probably curious about my stats and since I'm a
nice boy from the midwest, I'm not going to lie: 5'9", 165 lbs, brown hair and
brown eyes. Pretty good looking - I've always taken care of myself - but not
the kind of guy that you'd ever think would be in a situation like the one I'm
in now.

Brace yourself. This ain't pretty.

I've got a beautiful house, a gorgeous wife, and a hell of a problem. You see,
ever since last spring when my wife's career picked up and she started spending
half her life on the road, I've been unable to take a dump. I used to be as
regular as clockwork - two shits a day. If I ever had any trouble, a cup of
coffee would clean me right out. You don't appreciate that biological function
until it's gone.

First time it happened, I didn't think anything of it until the third day. I
was eating like normal, and it starting to feel pretty heavy in my gut.
Saturday morning, I took a laxative. I sure felt the gurgling inside, but
nothing was coming out. Wednesday made it a week, and that's when I went to see
my GP. He couldn't figure out anything wrong with me, so he prescribed a
drugstore enema.

I was less than thrilled. You ever use one of those things? Just buying them is
humiliating, and that's not even the worst part.

But, on the upside: problem solved. I was back to normal - as long as I used
the enema. I got over the embarrassment and started working it into my routine
every morning before gym. Never felt terribly comfortable - I had a hell of a
time getting that little tip inside my ass - but it worked, and I kind of liked
facing the day feeling clean inside. The one problem was that I didn't want to
tell my wife, Karen. It just didn't seem very manly, you know? And our sex life
had been on a real decline for a while. But she caught me one morning, bent
over in front on the bathroom floor, and after that, there was no hiding it.

When Karen found out that I'd been using enemas to move my bowels for two
months, she insisted that I see a specialist. She found the name of a guy, Dr.
Slater, and even called the office for me. I was a little relieved that my
appointment was scheduled for the day after Karen left for another month long
trip.

Dr. Slater's office is in Chicago, about an hour away from where I live. The
day of my appointment, I drove into the city and went to his office. The whole
time I was paranoid that I'd bump into someone I knew, but the waiting room was
empty so I sat down and started flipping through an old Men's Health magazine.

A few minutes passed. Then I heard two guys laughing and the inner door of the
office open. I was struck by the two men who appeared. One was your basic
Adonis -- hell, he could have been on the cover of Men's Health. Tall, broad
shoulders, short blond hair. The other was older, probably approaching 50, with
gray hair buzzed close to his head, and twinkly blue eyes. He was wearing a
white jacket.

The Adonis's eyes met mine for half a second, and when he smiled, I couldn't
help smiling back. But then he shook the older man's hand and said, "See you in
a week" and was gone.

The gray haired guy glanced at his chart. "Jake?" I stood up. "I'm Dr. Slater."
We shook hands, and he led me back to an examination room. I was a bit relieved
when he closed the door behind us, even though as far as I could tell, there
was no one else in the office. He gestured for me to sit on the examination
table. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

I told him everything I told you. He made little notes on my chart, then asked
my about my allergies and my diet.

He put on his stethoscope and put his hand up my shirt, listening to my heart.
I could detect the faint scent of cigars and cologne. "Any big changes in your
life when this started?"

"Nope," I said. "I've been working the same job for six years. My life has been
incredibly stable."

"And your marriage is going strong?"

"Well... for the most part." I was reluctant to complain. "Not getting my sex
these days. My wife is travels a lot for her job, and when she's home, it seems
like she's usually too tired to do much in bed."

"What's her job?" The doctor's stethoscope was on my back now.

"She's a professional golfer."

Dr. Slater cleared his throat and took a step back. He gave me a very keen look
like he was expecting more, but there wasn't anything else to say. Then he
nodded his head and told me to take off my pants. He slid on a latex glove.
"Ever had a prostate exam before?"

My heart sank. "Yeah," I muttered. I silently hoped that what happened last
time wouldn't be repeated here. He directed me to lean against the table. I
heard him squirt some goo on his hand. Then he turned the room lights low.

"Do you have experience with any illegal drugs?" he asked.

"I can't," I said. "Because of my job."

I felt his index finger at my back door. He was rubbing around my sphincter. It
was starting to feel warm.

"Jake, I want you to relax. Imagine you're getting an amazing blow job."

That was a bit jarring, but I understood where he was coming from. Or so I
thought.

The best blow job I ever had happened at camp when I was thirteen. My favorite
counselor, Henrik, had invited me to stay over his cabin -- the other guy he
shared it with was going to be gone that night. Henrik was this awesome German
exchange student that all the female campers had massive crushes on. His cabin
had a fireplace, so we hung out in front of it, and he let me have a couple
beers and told me about fucking his girlfriend. Counselors weren't supposed to
date, so he wouldn't tell me who she was, but apparently she would sneak over
every night while his roommate was sleeping and give him head. Drunk as I was,
I still got wood from his story. When the fire died, he put me to bed: his bed,
as it turned out. Late that night in the dark, I heard a noise like someone was
moving around in the cabin. I assumed it was Henrik at first, so I kept my eyes
closed. But then the covers lifted, and I felt someone creeping up the bed...
and suddenly a warm wet heaven enveloped my cock. I freaked out, instantly: I
couldn't see who this was, but it had to be the girlfriend, and if she caught
me, I'd get in big trouble. So I stayed as still as possible as the mysterious
mouth licked my ass and balls and gave me the blow job of my life...

"Relax, Jake!" Dr. Slater sounded a little impatient.

"I'm trying," I told him. I was really glad it was dark in the room; my cock
was standing at attention.

He sighed. "You have the tightest ass I've ever felt. I can't even get my pinky
in there. No wonder you're having trouble."

"I'm sorry," I said, which made him chuckle.

"I'm not giving up yet," he said. "I've never found an anus I couldn't get into
one way or the other. Get up on the examination table, on your hands and
knees."

I did as I was told. Once again, it was a relief the lights were so dim. I
heard him cross the room, and start to rustle through a drawer of equipment.
"Okay," he said. "Now I want you to put your hands back -- you're going to have
to lean forward -- and pull open your ass cheeks for me." I didn't move, so he
continued, "If you prefer, I can call someone else to spread your ass."

"No," I said, and a second later, my head was flat against the table and my
hands were exposing my asshole. Dr. Slater maneuvered behind me. There was an
explosion of bright light and a hiss - a sound I recognized as a Polaroid
sliding out of a camera. I felt myself blush all over.

"For your file," he said. "You can drop your hands."

He put the camera away. From the other side of the room, I heard his voice.
"Jake, you need to get that tight ass of yours opened up, or you're going to
have long term health problems. Now there are a couple of ways we can do it.
The first way is to give you a muscle relaxant. This is heavy duty stuff -
after you ingest it, you'd be able to smuggle bowling balls up there." My cock
jumped again. I don't know why. I was about to tell him to just use the
relaxant when he continued, "The only problem is that you won't be able to
drive for twenty four hours."

"Oh," I said. "That's not going to work."

There was the sound of a match. I opened my eyes. The doctor was lighting a
candle.

"The other method is a physical therapy technique. I can tenderize you."

"Like I'm a piece of meat?" I joked.

"That's the idea." He must have sensed my reluctance, because he said, "Come
on. Take it like a man." He was behind me again.

"What are the side effects?"

"You'll be a little sore back there. Might have to sit on a pillow for a few
hours. And there's the chance of some bruising." His hands started massaging my
butt cheeks. It felt good. Between that and the soft candle light, I felt my
natural defenses melt away. Kind of like getting drunk with Henrik.

"Go ahead," I said.

And then he hauled off and smacked my ass - hard. That wasn't quite what I was
expecting, so I let out a howl of protest. Dr. Slater leaned close and
whispered in my ear, "Shh...the neighbors." Then he hit me again. He was good
at this - I never imagined that a bare hand could sting so much. The blows kept
coming and my eyes filled with tears. The spankings hurt, and I felt
humiliated. It was so unfair. Why was my asshole so resistant?

"You're a little boy," the doctor said. "You've been bad. Apologize."

"I'm sorry," I said. I did feel like a little boy in this pose. It reminded me
of staying with my Uncle Pete, being bent over his knee...

Smack! "What are you apologizing for?"

"I made a mess in bed, Uncle Pete. I'm sorry."

"You...filthy...piece...of shit!" After each word, my uncle cracked me on my
ass again. I cried out, my little face rubbing against the hard thing that was
in his pants...

Suddenly, POP - I was back in the present. The spanking had stopped. I felt a
little weird back there, like I was taking a crap. But I didn't have any time
to think about it. The doctor told me to sit up. As my legs swung into down on
the side of the table, I realized that my cock was rock hard. And then --
sitting down -- God, what was that amazing sensation of fullness? I felt a bit
lightheaded. My right hand went to my dick like I was on automatic. It felt
bigger and harder than it ever had before. I yanked myself a couple of times.
Why did my ass feel so good? So big and open and free... suddenly I caught
another whiff of that cigar scent and came harder than I had in years. Three
major spurts - bam! bam! bam! - all of them on the good doctor's trousers.

I looked up at him. He was frowning.

"Clean it up," the doctor ordered.

I sank to my knees and put my mouth on his trousers, not licking, but sucking
like a vacuum. It was the first time I tasted my own cum. Then I sighed and
sank to the floor. My cock was still dripping and my ass sending out pleasure
vibes that shook my whole body.

When I opened my eyes, Dr. Slater was smiling down at me. "Jake, it's pretty
obvious that I'm not just going to have to get in your ass. I'm going to have
to get inside your head as well. Do you have good insurance?"

"Yes," I panted.

"Excellent. These visits will be bi-weekly."

I was still on the floor. I wanted to feel my ass, figure out what had
happened, but I almost didn't dare to put my hands back there. "What did you do
to my asshole?"

"It's a butt plug. Do you know what that is?"

"One of those fag toys?" I said. "It must be huge."

"Actually, it's pretty small. Don't worry, we'll get you there. You're going to
be quite familiar will all manner of fag toys when we're done. No one knows how
to stretch an ass like a homosexual."

My hand ventured back there. I felt a little hard plastic knob sticking out of
my hole. My ass clenched the plug like it never wanted to let go.

"How long do I get to -- how long do I keep it in?"

"Until Thursday. Our next appointment."

That made me incredibly happy.


TO BE CONTINUED