What the Hell?

by

Cole Parker

colepark@gmail.com

Do you remember when you were a kid and had to go to the doctor for a routine physical exam? Remember that? I sure do! There was this one time . . .

I was 13 and wanted to play soccer on my 8th grade team. No problem doing that. I just had to sign up, then show the coach my stuff during tryouts. I was a decent player. Not great but probably a little above average. That may have been because I was a little bit larger than most other boys my age. I wasn’t fast enough for a forward position but didn’t mind mixing it up a little, getting physical with the other sides’ forwards. I was happy to play in the backfield.

There was one stickler, though. To get on the team, or even come to tryouts, I had to have a physical exam.

Hey, I was a healthy kid. I didn’t like going to doctors; I never had anything wrong with me, but they always wanted to give me a shot, and I hated that. “This won’t hurt at all, just a little pinprick.” Sure. Let me give you one, you bastard, and see how you like it. I thought that but never said it because they were adults and I was a kid. I sure would have liked to, though, and I almost did a time or two, but always after getting the little pinprick that felt more like someone punching my shoulder with an ice pick. No way I’d say it before they mugged me. That would have been like waving a red flag before a bull, and perhaps the bull would have vengeance on his mind and faster legs than mine.

I didn’t like the sound of that physical. I’d heard about those sports physicals. Heard from kids who’d gone through them. The details were always a bit juicy.

Like this kid Jerry told us over lunch one day. “I have to get naked in the nurse’s office, and she is right there. She says the doctor is way too busy to have to stand twiddling his thumbs as I take my time undressing. She says he’s too busy for that.

“No female has seen my Jolly Roger since I was about seven, and here she is, watching me undress. She doesn’t have the decency to look away. Some sort of pervert, I guess. I see where her eyes are. Then when I’m bare, I walk into the doc’s room and he looks me over, does stuff, then handles the equipment. I don’t pop one or anything, the mood in there works against that, but still, some strange guy is handling me? I mean really handling me, balls and all? Hands on my junk? I’ll tell you, I’m not going out for sports again after this. Not worth it. Once was more than enough; too much, really!”

So, hearing that, I’m not looking forward to this, but boys my age exaggerate a lot, and maybe it won’t be that bad. I really want to play on our team.

So my mom made an appointment for me. I go to the doctor’s office when it’s time, and I go in. There are already a few boys my age there. When I’m called, it’s my turn. I go from the waiting room into another room where there’s only a nurse and me. The nurse is young, maybe even a trainee. She looks me over and tells me to get naked.

What the hell? Why? What’s this all about, anyway? I’ve given this some thought, trying to convince myself this won’t be too bad. I even dressed for the ordeal. I put on my all-black outfit that I felt displayed my maturity and even my inner dignity. It seemed to me they’d treat me like an older guy, approve of my decorum and grant me the respect I deserved. The way I pictured it, this would be a normal physical exam: reflexes, weight, blood pressure, that sort of thing. I’ll only be dropping my pants and undies for a second or two while the doc does the cough test. No one looking at me in my dignified apparel should think it proper to do anything unseemly.

But that isn’t what’s happening here. The nurse wants me naked! She tells me to strip! I grab my shirt with one hand and grasp it like it would take a whoop of gorillas to get that shirt open.

Certainly she’ll see in my eyes that this is not something I want to do. The thing is, I can read hers too. She’s now glaring at me, and she might be young, but she’s older than I am and in charge here. She expects me to do as she’s asked. What can I do?

I cave. I have no choice. Before I lose my courage entirely, I do it. I undress. Get naked. Bare naked as a baby. She’s still looking. I meet her eyes, and she must be able to see how troubled I am by reading my eyes. She ignores them. I don’t see any compassion in her face at all. I guess this isn’t the big deal for her that it is for me. Maybe she sees naked young boys all the time. She gets paid for it! What kind of job is that?

She hands me a sheet to cover my delicates with. I’m glad to get the sheet, but it’s only a sheet, and not a very big one. Hey, I’m 13; I’m no baby. I mean, there is stuff to see.

Believe you me, that sheet is around me about a half-second after I get it. But then, it’s just her and me in the room. I’m waiting for my turn with the doc. It’s chilly in here, too, and I’m uncomfortable. Chilly and undressed. The nurse is what, maybe about 25? She’s sort of pretty. She keeps meeting my eyes, then glancing down. Damn! Alone, naked—and while the sheet is covering me, it’s thin and both of us are aware that that’s all I have between me and my modesty; that she’s a young lady keeping watch. Is she picturing me like that sheet isn’t there? What is she thinking? Yeah, I’m uncomfortable; uncomfortable as hell. At least my goodies weren’t on display to her for all that much time.

Then the door to the inner sanctum opens, and a boy my age, also sheeted, walks out, looking a bit ashen. He doesn’t meet my eyes. He’s holding his sheet closed with a fist so tight his fingers are white. This doesn’t fill me with confidence.

“Next,” the doc says, poking his head into the room. He’s middle-aged. I can’t guess his age. Somewhere between 35 and 55. I’m not good at knowing the ages of men in that range. They all just fall into the category of ‘old’ to me.

I walk into his office and he closes the door. “Okay,” he says, “let’s get rid of that sheet.”

Hey, wait a minute! I thought the procedure was that he does all the preliminary stuff first, and he only needs the sheet dropped when it’s time for the down-and-dirty stuff: checking for a hernia or any abnormalities in that region of the body. Something like a ten second check. Maybe five. Perfunctory, that’s the word. But this guy wants to do everything while I’m nude? What’s going on here? Why?

Have I mentioned how 13-year-old boys just love being seen naked? Not! They hate it! They avoid it as much as humanly possible. I should say ‘we’ instead of ‘they’ because I’m one of them and for anyone to see me naked is at the top of my list of no-nos.

He gives me a look, an uncompromising one, and I drop the sheet. Now I’m naked. Wow. Absolutely bare. I’m not liking this at all.

He goes through the motions. Weight, blood pressure, reflexes, ears, eyes—everything. It seems to me all that could be done without me being so exposed. Why must I be nude? No reason at all. The longer it takes, you’d think I’d be getting used to it, but I’m not. I’m 13! As I said before: 13-year-olds do not like people seeing them nude! I don’t even get nude after gym, just dry sweat away with a towel and spray on some deodorant. This seems so unnecessary, this free peepshow he’s getting!

It’s finally, finally time for the hernia check. He has me stand, and he puts his hands where I’ve heard the counselors talk about bad touch. He feels both my balls, and he takes his time doing it. It isn’t a bit enjoyable. Then he has me cough and tries to stick my balls up into my body. Ugh!

He must be done now. Certainly he’ll let me grab that sheet again. About the only thing I can think of to be happy about is that he’s a guy and no one else, especially not that young nurse, has witnessed what happened in here.

But he’s not done! I’m reaching for the sheet, but no, not only is he not done, but what comes next is even worse. He’s finished with my balls, but he takes my dick in his hand, looks it over and, for crying out loud, retracts my foreskin. I’m the only one in the world that’s ever done that, and now this stranger is doing it. More than once!

He does it a couple of times, then says to me, “You don’t mind, do you? My nurse needs to see this.”

I say, “What?” in a strangled sort of way, but he’s already opened the door and says, “Miss Temblen, would you come in here for a moment? You need to see this!”

She comes in and he grabs my dick again, and he’s talking and she’s looking and he’s sliding my foreskin around, who knows why, and I’m still totally naked, naked as that proverbial jaybird, and all I can do is wince and groan in anguish, though pretty quietly, and try to ignore what’s going on below.

You know what happens when someone other than you is playing with your foreskin and an attractive girl is watching, agog? Yeah, that.

Everything’s too much. As I grow down there, I seem to faze out. Faintly, I hear the doc talking about tight and loose foreskins; blurrily I see the girl nodding with her eyes focused on what I hadn’t wanted her to see, and that now she has seen both flaccid and not. My internal nature is feeling the feelings I feel when what is happening is happening.

The doctor seems to notice and stops. The sheet is right there on a table next to us, and he hands it to me. I come out of my befuzzled state enough to drape it to cover the essentials.

The doc says he’s through with me and I can go. I’m still standing, a little surprised I’ve been able to have stayed upright. I walk out of the office. Thankfully, the nurse doesn’t come with me. I drop the sheet and don my clothes as fast as I can. I’m no longer erect, thank goodness.

As I walk out of the nurse’s room into the waiting room, I remember the ashen look my predecessor had, and now I understand. I may look the same to the boys waiting here. They’re staring at me with questions in their eyes. I look at them and shake my head and find myself saying, “Run. Run while you still can.”

THE END

Copyright © 2026 Cole Parker