The Imprint Ch. 08: Playing A Part

Upon Robinson's promise to behave himself, I opened the cell and directed him to stand on an "X" in the floor where the exam would be filmed. "Now, Mr Robinson, I'm going to conduct a thorough physical exam of your lower abdomen including your inguinal crease, your groin, your genitalia, your penis, scrotum and testicles. I will touch and feel these organs and check them for signs of imbedded foreign objects. Your co-operation is greatly appreciated. First lift your penis and hold it against your abdomen, ie your belly."

I shone my penlight, to inspect the scrotal sac. Then I requested he spread his legs and lift his scrotum, once again checking the area with my penlight. "Satisfied?" Mr Robinson asked.

"Almost," approaching Mr Robinson, I informed him, "I will now conduct a genital exam. Have you ever had one before?" Receiving a grunt, I noted. "Examination of the penis and testicles is routine in male physicals. Palpation," I explained, "for foreign objects is similar to that for lumps and swelling, telltale signs of testicular cancer."

"Doc," Robinson, holding his chest, replied, "I'm getting palpitations. Just do it."

Pushing his head to the right, I warned Robinson, "Sometimes physical contact during examination may produce tumescence. The patient may experience a natural engorgement of the sexual organs. In short, an erection. It shan't be a bother to your doctor. You oughtn't feel the slightest embarrassment."

In the spa in my Parkside house, I danced to overcome the cold, as I shivered in the altogether with arms crossed over my chest and hands clutching my shoulders, while I awaited Dr Barton's return. When she threw open the door, she breezed in. The tails of her open white lab coat flapping, trailing in her wake, revealed a full-frontal view of her cleavage and shaven pubis. "I've heard that many doctors are sadists, but masochists? I guess you are unique."

"Your classmates, behind your back," I admonished her, "claimed you had such a heart of stone, nothing short of killing a patient could send you into orgasm." Those words prompted a curled lip and an evil glare. "Per chance, that gave your classmates cause to plop you naked on a bed with me." In a softer tone, I reminded her. "We did turn misadventure into a profitable pound when you scripted the flick based upon that event."

"Silence!" Dr Barton ordered as she yawned, "Let's get this over with."

"Indeed," I agreed, "It's awfully chilly in here. Let's crack on."

Looking me over carefully, Dr Barton snickered, "You can play Englishman here. Despite all the 'indeeds' and cute expressions you can muster, that circumcised penis will fool eh -- nary an English eh--bird or ah--bloke," raising her arms she declared, "Indeed."

Over at the sink, Dr Barton washed her hands. Donning surgical gloves, Dr Barton dabbed gloved fingers with goo. Turning to me, she barked, "Hands on your head, feet apart."

As Dr Barton's nimble fingers crept up my inner thighs toward my scrotum, she commented, "Most men would experience a physical reaction to physical contact with a female physician."

I looked down at her kneeling in front of me. She looked up. Though our eyes met and our gazes locked, she had a distant look as if she were entranced. A wicked smile accompanied her declaration, "still flaccid, nothing," as her hand cupped my dangling scrotal pouch. "When aroused, normal men," Dr Barton spoke didactically, "experience a number of involuntary reactions: deeper breath, flush skin, a hardened penis and testicles drawn against the body. Are you able to draw sperm manually?"

When I denied masturbation, Dr Barton asked, "How did you come up with this costume, lab coat, blue plastic name tag, thigh high mesh stockings and black boots?"

When I answered, "It's all part of the act. It's designed to exhibit standard equipment." Dr Barton clutched my testicles sending a shock through my body.

At my nod, in my consulting room, Nurse Pierce handed Robinson a condom. A look caught between quizzical and suspicious peered on his face, an unvoiced,

"What for?" sprouted on his lips.

"I will conduct a thorough exam of your reproductive organ. I intend to collect bodily emissions for analysis." Grasping Robinson's jaw, to keep his face wrenched to the right with one hand, I grasped his penis gently massaging it along its length as I explained, "The penis is an external male reproductive organ. When the uncircumcised male is aroused, the cone shaped tip emerges from the prepuce or foreskin to penetrate the female and accomplish insemination."

I could feel my heartbeat quicken, my respiration deepen and my penis harden.

My fingers gingerly ran down the ventral (under) side of the shaft to reach Robinson's testicles, now drawn tightly against Robinson's body. Gently fondling the testes, I massaged the rough skin of Robinson's scrotal sac. "Concentration of nerve endings makes the penis most sensitive to physical stimulation. Your penis is now in an advanced stage of an erection." Breathing heavily, Robinson bore a look of disappointment when I withdrew from contact.

"Turn around, bend over, touch your toes," I ordered Robinson, "I need to examine your anal cavity. Cheer up! We're almost done."

In the bathroom spa of my Parkside residence, Dr Barton with her fingers clutching the collar of her lab coat reproved me for staring at her hairless pubes, "In hormonal surges during pregnancy, my pubic hair bloomed and went dark. The hospital shaved me clean before I delivered. Afterwards I decided to keep it that way."

"When we were making those flicks, with you playing Dr Sylva Zaftig," I reminisced, "that cone shaped crop of pubic hair with red highlights with its vortex in your vagina was cute."

"My roommate used to say," Dr Barton recalled, "`with your double DD boobs on my delightful 5' 7," 125 pound, long legged frame, the two of us combined could make one hot porn star.' What made you think you could sell my body in a porn film?"

"I used nudity to make a point," I replied, "In my scripted flicks, despite your eh weight and appearance, you exuded sexuality in playing the important role of a haughty, imperious doctor."

"Step over to that platform over there," Dr Barton pointed to a cube one meter off the ground (3 ft) two meters (6ft) long two meters wide (6 ft) next to the pedestal sink. "Wanting a proper exam table, I'd like you to put a knee on the platform and brace yourself against that slab."

My breathing went easier. As her hands felt along my gluteal muscles reaching toward my intergluteal cleft (butt crack) and manually pulling it apart, she asked, "I suppose the film we're reenacting is your favorite. Which of those films we made do you think was my favorite?"

"I'll bet you liked the sci -- fi flick," I answered, "where you were the doctor examining candidates for breeding. I scripted that feature from a reading of Plato's republic." I gasped as she penetrated my sphincter muscles wiggling her index finger through. I moaned as she wiggled her middle finger inside. "I'd wager you liked the part of that feature where you told a male colonist that females made better gastro-intestinal specialists because female fingers are longer and narrower and can probe deeper into your anus."

"Hmm," Dr Barton thought aloud, "I preferred the one I helped you script. The annual physical at the girl's boarding school. Girls reporting in in September are forced to strip in the corridor. They're lined up to shower before a physical exam.

The line of naked girls stretches from the communal shower to a screen in the center of the gym. You see the doctor watch the patient doing jumping jacks as shadows on the screen."

"Oh, jolly good," I recalled, "That mis -- en -- scene was costly, but worth it. I might have thought the physical examination represented by eerie shadows dancing on the screen too arty, but after I reviewed the director's cut, I found it compelling to watch the poor lassie waiting become anxiously when she hears the lass next ahead and the doctor breathe heavily in unison."

I moved my hips to draw Dr Barton's fans in deeper. When her fingers palpated my prostate, Dr Barton giggled, "You may come if you can."

With a grunt the contractions started to release my semen into the collection condom. Still locked in spasms, I collapsed onto the platform. With a pat on my glutes (ass) Dr Barton reminded me to seal the condom when I was finish. She, flinging off the lab coat, was headed to the hot tub as I crashed onto the platform.

In my consulting office at the hospital, Mr Robinson collapsed on the floor, after going orgasmic during my examination of his rectum. Helping him up, Nurse Pierce took his sperm collection condom and guided him back to his cage. "My clothes?" he pleaded.

"Your garments must be analyzed for traces of drug residue before they're returned," I advised Robinson. "It shan't take long. In a jiff, you'll be back in your automobile on your way." I flipped a switch. An exit opened to his left. I pointed the way. An aluminum gate descended sealing off the cage.

It was probably after midnight when I struggled to join Dr Barton in the hot tub. She had her arms on the edge thrusting her chest out.

"I have a suggestion apropos," Her eyes light up; there was a sparkle in her voice I hadn't heard since our days in school, "to your current situation, you could have a mother and two adult daughters detained for inspection."

"Indeed, go on," I begged,

Shaking her head, the glow fading from her eyes, Dr Barton recanted, "no--you wouldn't be interested."

She relented when I pleaded. "Late in your day. The nurse will soon go off duty. Your rule book entitles the eh--detained person to a privacy during the strip -- search, right?"

"We call it a full body inspection," I corrected.

"You offer them the opportunity to be examined together or to be held until the next day," Dr Barton set the parameters of the story."

"It presents an interesting dilemma," I thought aloud, "I have had complaints from superiors about disparate length time female detainees are held, a group strip makes my job easier--more embarrassing to the detainee. You wouldn't mind playing the doctor?"

Dr Barton thought, "With such a change in direction, I need some changes in our ante -- marital agreement." She paused. "But I'm not one for the tabloids."

"You certainly had your share of scandal sheets' attention with your former roommate's lawsuit," I observed.

"Why did your father kill your mom?" Dr Barton bluntly asked. "Father wouldn't speak of it."

"Mummy sued Daddy for divorce," I replied. "it's a bit of a melodrama, a clash of cultures, but," I took a deep breath, "to everyone around here, I'm English."

"And in our agreement, we'll keep it that way. Won't we?" She promised. "You want to call yourself English. That's your business. We can protect this white lie under the heading Conspiracy of Silence."

I pursed my lips. With an half smile, she extended her hand.

In the consulting room at the hospital, Nurse Pierce announced, "Our next patient is Zenia Gilmore." The security gate on the other side of the room. Behind the bars stood a tall blond-haired woman, shuffling her feet in a jig of sorts. Her hands held her distended abdominal cavity as if she were holding it in place; her legs were bowed to support her belly.

Suddenly, Ms Gilmore's motions became frantic. She was ripping the buttons off her grey and white stripped button-down dress and tossing the dress aside.

"Blimey, much as I appreciate your cooperation," I tried to remain cheerful. "I'm going to see if I can get you released without further additional scrutiny or an inspection of your person."

Turning to Nurse Pierce, I decided "Good Lord, I really shan't conduct an inspection of her anal and vaginal cavities." Putting aside my clipboard, I directed, "Call in to Headquarters in Capitalland for permission to release her without further ado."

"Too late," Nurse Pierce, "She's delivering."

Ms Gilmore taking a deep breath struggled to reach behind her to unhook her bra and toss it aside. "Now, I can breathe," Gilmore declared as she squatted and released a gush of a clear fluid which collected in a puddle at her feet.

"Shelve permission. This is an emergency. Move her to maternity STET," I commanded.

"No time," Nurse Pierce declared, "Open the bars. I need to get in there. The baby is coming out. I see its head."

When I admitted Nurse Pierce to the cell, Ms Gilmore wailed, "Don't make me have my baby in this jail. My mother and my husband should be with me."

"Your mom," Nurse Pierce assured the patient, "and your guy heck, they'll meet baby soon enough." In an encouraging voice, she urged the patient, "One big push and we're done." The baby was out and the floor was coated with bodily fluids, waste, and the placenta."

The rest is a blur. While I administered perfunctory examinations of remaining detainees, the last few of which I didn't ask to disrobe, headquarters wavered on what to do with Ms Gilmore.

Climbing out of bed into the shower of my Parkside residence, Dr Barton and I playfully soaped each other up. "Still nothing," Dr Barton toyed with my flaccid penis by waving it like a pendulum on an old windup tic-toc clock.

"Why didn't you bring Erica Erin to see me?" I asked. "I promised in our pre-nup to adopt her."

Lifting her arms and stretching, Dr Barton thrust her breasts in my face. Spinning around she bumped me with her bum. I drew an anxious breath when her wiggling rubbed my penis against her intergluteal cleft (butt crack). I sighed and counted backwards from 500 by 19s. "Still nothing," she chuckled. "There's only one way to draw male gametes out of you." Twisting her index finger. Dr Barton laughed. "Too bad I forgot my surgical gloves."

"The stress of the lawsuit from my former roommate, hormones during pregnancy playing ping -- pong on my brain, politics in the University Hospital," Dr Barton chided me with her boast, "sent my libido into overdrive I was afraid Erica's father would hide from me when I needed him to service me."

"I guess the hormones crashed and your eh--excess libido abated," I replied.

"I didn't suffer a crash like other women after delivery," Dr Barton revealed,

"Suddenly, I found myself trapped in an arrangement of convenience -- Father approved -- The press hoovering over me found no reason to enquire (she slyly stressed the slight difference in the lexicon) beyond appearances."

"So, there is no problem," I answered.

"Now," Dr Barton sighed, "the case is over. When I'm with a man, I expect to have six inches of him inside me." She caressed my flaccid penis. "It's not here."

"And that's it?" I asked.

"You disappointed Father," Dr Barton reproved me, "by ignoring your father. Now, no one cares. I release you from any commitment to me or to Erica. Oh, you keep everything you got and I'll even play the zaftig, full -- figured woman doctor if you film in Capitalland." Smiling, Dr Barton exclaimed so loud it reverberated off the tiles, "saying that makes me feel me sexier!"

"I guess," I told Dr Barton, "it took great courage for you to make the call to end it."

Ultimately, in the consulting room at HHI, left without guidance, I was prodded by Nurse Pierce, "You're the doctor; make the call." I decided to admit Ms Gilmore and her baby to the hospital.

The story spread apace in this Cold Water, backwater. I received a call from the Hospital Director that Mayor Griffen Pointdexter himself wanted to visit the mother in hospital and the local paparazzi would attend the phot - op. In a private room of the hospital, with me, Dr Barton, and Nurse Pierce standing by, Mayor Pointdexter welcomed his newest constituent.

Dr Barton whispered to me, "police picked me up at the train station to bring me here. I guess you won this round in our competition, but on the other hand, there is a bright side."

"Bright side?" I whispered.

"Our relationship will change but we can still make our mark working together," Dr Baron promised, "We have another day to plan our next screen play. I have an idea: doctor treating an impotent man by making him watch his wife -- Do you think your Nurse Pierce might be interested in playing a part?"