Amber slumped toward the car's passenger door, a sure sign to her mother that she was upset.
"Amber, honey, are you going to be okay with this?" she asked the pouting teenager.
"No," Amber answered sullenly. "How could it be okay? The doctor wants to stick his finger up my butt!"
"Oh, honey, stop talking like that. You're being gross."
Amber thought about what it would feel like to have her asshole inspected by a man she didn't know. "It is gross, Mom. He probably gets off on it!"
"For gods' sakes, Amber, stop being dramatic! This is a scientific experiment, designed to benefit the medical community and their patients. I can assure you that no one is 'getting off' on anything."
Amber was shocked. How could her mother not agree with her on this?
"Mom, it's embarrassing! I don't even want anyone to know I'm participating in this; and, even if no one found out, I still don't want to actually have to do it!"
The agitated teenager held up the flyer her mother had been given by the secretary at Amber's high school.
"Just look at their ad: Needed: Adult teenagers to participate in a clinical study of proctologic stimulation and its effects on the nervous system. Then there's a note in small print at the bottom, stating that the boys' roster is full, but they're still looking for girls."
"Well, that's good, honey, since you're an 18-year-old girl, and you need a job."
"But even if they're not doing anything weird, it still sounds weird! Like they're going to try to buttfuck me or something."
"Amber! You know I don't approve of that kind of language. I think at the root of all this is a serious attitude issue on your part, young lady."
"I notice you haven't signed up for it," Amber replied quietly.
"Amber, even if they were not asking for 18- and 19-year-old kids, I don't need the money, and you do. That cheerleading outfit you're wearing was three hundred dollars, your figure skating lessons are a dollar a minute, and you still want money to spend at the mall with Jordan and Trista. And haven't you been bugging me lately about getting your own car?"
"I just don't want this job..."
"Well, you know Burger King has been hiring, but you said you don't want to work around all the grease. Amber, you're going to have to learn eventually that money comes from somewhere, and, in this case, it will be coming from the proctology clinic. You know Emily, that pretty blonde girl who works at Starbucks?"
"The one who mows Mr. Miller's lawn?" Amber asked.
"Yes, that's her. She's only 19, and she never passes up an opportunity to make money. Emily's picking up an extra 60 dollars every afternoon for her examinations, Monday through Friday, and she has no complaints."
"Yeah, I bet that doctor likes having her to experiment with, since every guy in town thinks she's got the nicest butt in the world."
"You seem to think this has something to do with sex, Amber, and it doesn't. Your school never would have posted the ad on the bulletin board if this was about something unprofessional. Now, you don't have to do this, but I think you should... and if you don't, I expect you to be carrying a Burger King uniform when you get home." Amber's mother pulled the car into the clinic's parking lot and stopped in front of the main entrance.
"If it makes you feel any better, Amber," her mother added, "Emily told me this doctor is a woman."
"Probably some mean old dyke!" Amber retorted, her emotions beginning to stir as the fear of an impending afternoon of discomfort and humiliation began to set in. A distinctly unnerving tingle in her stomach reminded her that, if she got out of her mother's car now, instead of heading over to Burger King for a job application, someone, in just a few minutes, was going to do something unpleasant to her naked behind!
"No, Amber, she's not a 'mean old dyke'. Emily told me she's young and attractive. I don't think you have anything to worry about." Even this information did not make Amber feel any better, as she now had to consider the embarrassing prospect of being handled by a woman who was, quite possibly, even prettier than herself.
Amber was just about on the verge of tears as she tried to decide whether to go into the clinic, or ask her mom to drive her to Burger King.
"Look, honey," her mother said quietly, using her most soothing tone of voice. "If it's too uncomfortable, you can quit. There are plenty of other jobs out there. I just thought this one would be good for you, since it's not really work, and since you don't like to work at anything except ice skating, cheerleading and boys."
Amber remained silent, thinking about it.
"Please, just give it a try," her mother continued. "How bad could it be? They do their tests, they study your reactions, and that's all. This sounds like the easiest job I've ever heard of, and yet you want to just throw away this opportunity without even trying."
Amber looked up into her mother's face, and her mother smirked mischievously, then added: "Besides, you know how I'm always bugging you to stand up straight. Maybe this will improve your posture!"
Amber looked at her mother in shock, and the woman giggled. "Lighten up, Amber," she added. "I'm only joking. Now, which is it going to be? Proctologic stimulation, or Burger King?"
Amber smiled. "Oh, all right," she agreed. "But if I come home walking like I have a golf ball up my ass..."
"Amber! I told you to watch your language."
DR. FULLER'S EXAMINATION
Amber didn't have to wait long before the young blonde in the white lab coat came out to the waiting room and introduced herself.
Dr. Courtney Fuller an intimidating sight: six feet tall, very beautiful and very serious. Even covered by the lab coat, her body was obviously voluptuous and shapely. Amber guessed she was about 25-30 years old.
She took Amber by the arm and led her into an examination room. Amber was surprised at how stern the doctor was being with her! She began to think that her mother was right - that this was just a job, and that no one was going to try to get too friendly or romantic with her.
The examination room was bright and empty. Its walls were painted lemon yellow, rows of bright fluorescent lights lined the ceiling, and the carpeted floor supported just one piece of furniture: a cabinet on wheels, the drawers of which contained various implements which, as Amber was soon to discover, would be used to examine and experiment on Amber's tiny asshole.
"Stand in the center of the room and face the mirror," Dr. Fuller ordered sharply, her voice crisp with impatience. Normally, Amber wouldn't put up with such abruptness from an authority figure, but she was very intimidated by the blonde amazon. One entire wall of the examination room contained a huge mirror - eight feet high, twenty feet wide - and, in the reflection, Amber could see Dr. Courtney Fuller working a pair of very tight, white rubber gloves onto her hands.
Amber looked at herself in the mirror, and immediately became self-conscious at the obvious expression of humiliation on her face. She then looked at Dr. Fuller, who was not doing a very good job of trying not to smile.
"What's so funny?" Amber asked, unable to mask her defensive tone of voice.
"Nothing," the doctor replied, rather loudly, then added: "Now get those panties off. Move, young lady! When I tell you to do something, you do it; don't just stare at me with your mouth open. Now, come on... panties off!"
Amber hurriedly obeyed, squirming out of her panties and dropping them to the floor next to her. She heard dim laughter coming through the walls from a nearby room, and that only reminded her of just how ridiculous she felt.
"Dear, you're not going to start crying on me, are you?" Dr. Fuller asked impatiently, her voice almost a whine. "I swear to God, one tear and you're out of here, without pay. I am very tired of these spoiled brats who don't mind making 60 dollars in a single afternoon, but don't want to have to put out for it. Do you think you can come in here and just look at yourself in the mirror?"
"Excuse me?" the doctor demanded, her voice as prickly as her purple fingernails.
"I said, 'No, Ma'am!'" Amber almost shouted.
"Then put your hands on your hips, and bend over," Dr. Fuller said quietly, almost soothingly.
The first object to probe Amber's virgin anus was a simple, smooth plastic rod, as slim as a pencil and the length of a conductor's baton. The doctor had lubricated the device before beginning the slow insertion process, and Amber closed her eyes and tried not to clench as she felt it slide into her tiny teenbutt.
"Open your eyes," Dr. Fuller instructed her. "The purpose of these experiments is to test your reactions, so I need you to look straight ahead, directly into the mirror. Now."
Amber was so humiliated, she considered leaving. But the thin probe was now inserted several inches into her gripping ass, and to leave the clinic without compensation would have been a complete waste of her dignity. Amber knew, at that moment, that she was in this for the duration.
.... There is more of this story ...