Miss Anderson's IBS

She went to a local Urgent Treatment Center. She could not seek treatment from her regular physician. His next available appointment would not be for at least a few weeks. It always struck her as rather odd that she had a regular physician who could never see her when she was in fact sick.

She could go to the campus clinic. Being a professor they would see her right away. But, being a professor she really felt very uncomfortable seeking treatment there. She could not risk her records being seen by students who were employed there. She could not risk the facts of her condition leaking out into the campus rumor mill.

She could perhaps go to an emergency room but very clearly this was not a life threatening condition. She was not in any physical danger. It perhaps fell most closely under the realm of an urgency. She was most certainly feeling a very urgent urge.

But, once she arrived at the clinic she did have a moment of doubt. What does she put down in the box asking for her complaint, her symptoms? She wrote down "anal itching," and blushed profusely as she handed it back to the receptionist who, fortunately, didn't even take the time to read it. She was most concerned about whether she had adequate insurance coverage.

With a sigh of relief, knowing that she was probably doing the right thing, that she would soon be relieved of her problem, Betsy sat down in the waiting room, scanning around to consider her immediate competition for urgent medical care. There was quite an assortment of persons. She spotted some clear wounds and rashes, some colds, perhaps some fevers, all of whom were eventually called back for an examination. Betsy waited, and waited, and waited, and waited.

Betsy wasn't sure why she was not being called back. It seemed like some persons who had come in after her had gotten back into an examination room before her. Perhaps there was a nurse doing triage, who naturally determined that a fever or an injury was more urgent than an itching anus. She wished she had written something else down, for more reasons than one.

It became so uncomfortable, perhaps because all that was on her mind now was the burning, itching, tingling of her anus, for which she could find little relief within the waiting room. She clenched her sphincter, but could not help squirming, which made her wonder if the others waiting there were wondering what her problem was. They would not likely, of course, guess correctly, but it was of little consolation that they probably figured she had some sort of gastrointestinal problem.

Fortunately, finally, her name was called and she was brought down to an examination room, where her blood pressure and temperature were taken by a very sweet and friendly nurse. But, this sweet nurse did ask for the reason for her visit, and Betsy had to admit that she was experiencing some discomfort with her anus.

"Oh!" the nurse replied, not able to hide her surprise. "Well, um, the doctor will be in shortly."

Shortly though was not a particularly accurate estimate of the amount of additional time she had to wait. She waited in the examination room an additional 45 minutes, all for an examination she figured would last only about five to ten minutes.

But, perhaps the very brief period of time spent with the doctor would be a blessing. Her doctor was a rather handsome, fatherly looking man, which she was uncertain was good or bad. He asked, "What seems to be the problem, young lady?"

Betsy smiled. Nobody had called her a young lady for quite some time, if one didn't count the traveling salesman in her dream. But as she was about to say why she was there her face reddened. She couldn't tell him that. She wondered if it was a mistake to have even come to see a doctor. "Oh, um, well, it's nothing really. I shouldn't waste your time. In fact," she suggested as she began to get up from her chair, "why don't you just bill me and I'll be on my way."

"No, no, please dear, Miss Anderson, sit back down. Don't be concerned. I'm a doctor. You can tell me anything you want and it will be entirely confidential and," he chuckled as he added, "believe me, I've heard quite a few things in my life."

Betsy wasn't sure if he was chuckling over the silliness of her concern, or amusement over the concerns of past patients. Would he someday chuckle with another patient, thinking about her problem? Well, she really didn't have much choice. She had come this far, she might as well tell him what was troubling her. She took a deep breath and softly confessed, "It's my, my...my anus."

The doctor kept a straight face. He was a professional. He was a bit surprised though at hearing that this woman had a problem with her anus, although that was what she had written on the intake form. Surprise turned to curiosity, a professional curiosity. This could be a most interesting malady, which would nicely spice up what was usually an otherwise very routine day of sprains, colds, fevers, and rashes. "Yes, well, please continue."

"Um, yes, well..." She hesitated, her face reddening, "I have this odd sensation there."

"Sensation?"

"Yes, um, it's kind of difficult to explain. It's um, sort of an itch, or a tingle. I really can't tell which. I put some lotion on it and it felt better, at least for awhile." She realized that she had left out the part about the salesman's ointment, but then recalled that experience had been only a dream.

"Well, that's good, responding well to the lotion."

She supposed she should tell him that she also felt that the temporary improvement might have been due as much, if not more, to her finger than to the lotion, but she wanted to leave that part out.

"Yes, well, it's an unusual form of IBS but let's take a look at it, shall we?"

"Oh! Yes, yes, of course," she responded. It was an obvious request. He did have to look at it. No doctor could diagnose a problem without actually examining it.

The doctor though could see her apprehension. "Would you like a patient robe?"

By that he meant one of those rather uncomfortable, thin cloth robes, open in the back. She didn't really want to change into one of those. "No, no, that's fine. But, um, well...uh, if you don't mind, I just wondered..."

"Please? What?" The doctor inquired as he washed his hands.

"Well, um, shouldn't there be a nurse here?"

"Yes, yes, of course, if you wish. We can do this later. It's just that she's doing some physicals for the little league. We offer rather inexpensive physicals. This being a UTC we don't have a lot of staff on hand. You can wait until she's done. I certainly don't mind. I just don't know when that will be. You probably though should go back out to the waiting room. I'll need this room for the next patient." He delayed putting on his examination gloves.

Betsy most certainly didn't want to wait any longer. Gracious, how much longer would that be? "No, no, it's fine," she decided, as she reached under her skirt to remove her panties, slowly pulling them down her thighs, all the way to her ankles, and then stepping out of them. As she stood back up straight, panties in her hand, she asked, "Should I remove the skirt?"

The doctor studied it. "It is a bit tight, but we'll manage. Why don't you just pull your skirt up and over your bottom, lean over the examination table, and we'll just take a look at it."

"Yes doctor," she softly replied. What is it with this "we"? It's him who is having a look at it. She pulled her skirt up to her hips, which wasn't that easy as he was correct that her skirt was rather tight. She had to wiggle and squirm her hips and bottom a bit to get it up. She should have gone home and slipped into something more casual. Of course, it's not always easy to know what's best to wear to a doctor's office.

It did at least help that he wasn't studying her bottom as she worked her skirt up. In fact, he didn't seem at all interested or curious. Not a very complimentary reaction from a man when a woman raises her skirt, but certainly suitably professional for a doctor. Once her skirt was entirely over her bottom she leaned over the examination table, feeling rather vulnerable and exposed.

But, she soon became even more exposed.

"If you would, Miss Anderson, reach back and spread your cheeks for me. That would be very helpful."

"Yes doctor," she meekly replied. She reached back, grasped each cheek with a hand, and pulled them apart, as if she was wantonly and brazenly displaying her asshole for the world to see and ponder. It wasn't, of course, for the world. It was just for one man, but it still felt awkward and weird.

"Hmmmm," the doctor said as he seemed to meditate on the sight of the lady's puckered little butt hole.

It is, of course, assumed that doctors have no sexual thoughts, feelings, or fantasies about their patients. After all, they are professional doctors. It would be wrong, unethical, immoral, and a violation of their Hippocratic oath to have lascivious thoughts about a patient. More specifically, they vow "in every house where I come I will enter only for the good of my patients, keeping myself far from all intentional ill-doing and all seduction and especially from the pleasures of love with women." Of course, that doesn't specifically rule out enjoying the sight of a pretty woman's cute little butt hole.

In addition, the primary precept for the physician is primun non nocere, or first do no harm, and it would most clearly be quite harmful to destroy the Hippocratic myth and have patients realize how much the doctor enjoyed examining his patients' lovely bodies. The myth was perpetuated really for their benefit, for their protection to do no harm.

Doctor Welby smiled, safe in the knowledge that Miss Anderson could not see his face, his reaction, enjoying the sight of her tightly curled anus. It even seemed to be winking at him, as she nervously squeezed her sphincter.

"Does it look alright, doctor?" Betsy asked, shifting her legs, finding it quite difficult to keep her bottom from squirming, at least a bit, being so closely scrutinized by the doctor.

"Miss Anderson, I don't really see anything at all wrong with it. It looks quite normal to me. Frankly, even more than normal."

"More than normal?" How could a butt hole be more than normal?

"Well, yes. It's so symmetrical, so nicely round, and the curls are all so evenly spaced, parallel, and proportional. Frankly, Miss Anderson, you have one of the finest, prettiest, little butt holes that I've ever seen, and I have seen quite a few."

Betsy again blushed, but this time for a different reason. The salesman had also been complimentary but that hardly counted, being a dream. And, this man was a professional. "Well, um, thank you, doctor," she softly replied, suppressing a grin.

"Do you feel the tingling, the itching, right now?" he asked, leaning in closer, his eyes just an inch away.

"Yes sir, actually," she confessed, "I do." Betsy could feel his breaths on her skin, just below her asshole, which meant right on her cunnie pouch. Nobody's face had ever been that close to her butt hole before, and it really felt so wrong, so weird. She again instinctively squeezed her sphincter, hoping that wouldn't complicate his examination. She suddenly felt that she might in fact have some gas. She squeezed even tighter. Oh it would be so, so bad to fart right now. Has that ever happened to a doctor before?

"Hmmmm," he again said, pondering the pretty woman's butt hole as he reached down to give his growing erection a squeeze. He finally announced, "Let's see if we can find anything inside."

"Yes, doctor," Betsy agreed. She had been dreading this part of the examination, but she knew it would be necessary. She continued to hold open her cheeks as the doctor looked for something he needed, feeling rather foolish doing so but feeling she should remain prepared. She looked around the office herself, trying to find something interesting to look at, trying to distract her mind from the fact that she was spreading her cheeks open.

The doctor opened the door and called out to someone in the hallway. "William, do you have the anal speculum?"

Betsy looked apprehensively back at the doctor, over her shoulder, still keeping her cheeks spread open. She couldn't hear William's answer but apparently it satisfied the doctor.

He stepped back from the door, leaving it partially open.

"Uh doctor," Betsy quietly said. "Do I need to keep..."

"It's fine, Miss Anderson, William apparently has the speculum. He's on his way. He won't be long. You just sit tight."

"Well, alright," she replied, and let go of her cheeks.

"Oh! No, no," the doctor corrected her, giving her a reassuring pat on her bare bottom. "You best keep them spread apart. We don't want the sphincter to tighten up."

"What? Oh, um, yes, of course, doctor." She reached back and again spread her cheeks open, looking back apprehensively at the partially opened door. Couldn't another patient walk by and see her like this? She turned her face away. If one did she wouldn't want to know about it, or possibly be even recognized.

The doctor was at least right that William didn't take long. He soon arrived, knocking on the door to announce his arrival but not waiting for an answer. He pushed the door open the rest of the way holding in his hand the missing anal speculum, his eyes quickly going to the open cheeks of Miss Anderson. "Here it is doctor. I was just trying to figure it out," he said, handing the speculum over to Dr. Welby but keeping his eyes on Miss Anderson's pretty little rosebud, as well as the sweet cunnie pouch and feminine lips beneath it.

Miss Anderson looked back over her shoulder, her eyes widening in concern. William was a rather young man. He didn't look to be a doctor at all.

"Oh, well then, why don't you just stay, William." He turned to Miss Anderson. "You don't mind, do you, dear?"

"What? Um, well, actually, I really..."

"Excellent, excellent. This is really quite opportunistic, to say the least." He turned back to the young man. "William, this is Miss Anderson. She is a professor at Templeton College." He turned back to the teacher. "I believe it's anthropology, isn't it, Professor?" He believed that was what she had written for her profession on the intake form.

"Um, yes sir," she timidly replied, feeling her face redden. Can't they please just get on with this? She didn't really need, or frankly want, any introductions.

"And, my gracious," the doctor added, "You two have a lot in common as William is a student there, pre-med."

"Oh, well, um, that's nice, that's very nice, William."

William tore his eyes away from the professor's blinking anus and made sure to look at her directly in the eyes. Hopefully she hadn't noticed him ogling her butt hole. "Yes, thank you. I don't think I've taken any of your classes, though, Miss Anderson."

"No, no, I guess not." Thank goodness for that!

He asked as he stepped up closer to her, feeling an erection beginning to develop within his slacks, "Maybe I will though, next semester. What are you teaching then?"

"Um, well, um. I don't really know," she quickly answered. "The schedule hasn't yet been prepared." This was a rather awkward conversation, to say the least, discussing her class schedule with an undergraduate, while spreading open her cheeks for him to inspect her anus. Not surprisingly, she was not being forthright about her schedule. She was going to teach three classes, but she certainly didn't want to give him any ideas. Imagine having an undergraduate in your class who had been observing your butt hole while you spread your cheeks open for him. No, she much preferred that he take someone else's class.

"Oh, well, that's a shame. I imagine you're a very good teacher."

On what basis was he imagining that? Because she had spread her butt cheeks open for him? It was probably though just a polite pleasantry, like when people greet you by asking how things are going or how you're doing. She sometimes felt that some didn't really care to know, particularly if it's not going well.

The doctor interrupted their polite chatter. "You've just turned eighteen, haven't you, William?"

"Oh yes, yes, of course, Dr. Welby."

"Yes, well, I just wanted to reassure Miss Anderson here that we weren't employing any underage pre-med interns. That wouldn't be appropriate now would it, Miss Anderson," he chuckled, turning back to his patient, "with you spreading open your bottom cheeks like that."

"No sir, I wouldn't think so," she agreed, not quite sharing in the humor of the situation.

"Well," the doctor finally said, "let's do get on with the examination. Miss Anderson, with the two of us here I think it would be best if you hopped up onto the examination table."

'Geeez,' Miss Anderson said to herself, 'he couldn't have realized that sooner?' She finally let go of her cheeks and crawled onto the narrow soft table, protected by a long swath of wide white paper. "Um," she said, turning her face back to the doctor. "How do you, what position do you, um, want me in?"

The doctor briefly pondered what position would be best to inspect, and enjoy, his very lovely patient. She would really be quite peachy in a variety of positions, but there was really only one that was best for the anal examination. "Why don't we have you get on your elbows and knees, your bottom as close to the edge of the table as possible. We will get in between your legs. That way both of us can have a look."

"Yes sir," Betsy meekly replied, and twisted around, trying to make sure that she didn't tear or wrinkle the paper cover as she did so. Somehow this whole experience was beginning to resemble her dream the night before, or at least she was beginning to feel that she was in a similar dream and was about to wake up. And, worst of all, perhaps, just like in her dream, she was beginning to feel her cunnie getting warm and tingly. Much as she found this all so embarrassing, if not humiliating, it was precisely for that very same reason she could feel herself getting excited, and aroused.

She shifted as close to the edge of the table as she could, and thrust her bottom out at the two men. It was a very good presentation, offering ready access to her very fully curved tush which was being rather boldly displayed. It was almost like there were two large white beach balls crushing against each other, yet unable to hide the anus and vagina, which were very fully exposed.

"You know, in this position," the doctor observed, "I'm not so sure Miss Anderson really needs to spread open her cheeks."

Well, that was at least something, she thought.

"But, just to be on the safe side, why don't you reach back again and part those pearly gates." He always felt that a little humor helped to relax his patients, make what otherwise might be a difficult examination more informal, perhaps even playful.

Betsy reached back and once again spread open her cheeks.

"Now, first we will have to apply some lubrication. William, would you like to do the honor?"

"Me? Well, golly, sure, Dr. Welby. Yeah, that would be great!"

"Now don't sound too enthusiastic, young man. You're liable to give Miss Anderson the wrong impression." He said it in a joking manner but he was indeed concerned about giving her the right impression.

"Oh, yeah, sure, sure." William put on a pair of examination gloves, all the while studying the eventual target of the ointment.

As he did so, the doctor explained the situation to his intern. "You see, William, Miss Anderson has been experiencing some unusual tingling and itching on her anus."

Betsy's face reddened again. At least they couldn't see that, although she would most certainly prefer they see her pink face than her pink anus.

"But, frankly, so far, I don't see really anything wrong with it. As I told her myself, I kind of think that this is one of the finest little puckered butt holes on a patient I've seen in years."