Figure Story inspired by this image found at Doctor’s Appointment by errant3d on DeviantArt

If you looked at the picture above, which I’m sure you did, I don’t have to describe myself. I have Hispanic, Mediterranian, and Caucasian heritage. My dad is part Hispanic (his dad) and Mediterranian (his mom), and my mom is all Caucasian. Most of my appearance is from my dad but my breasts are all Mom.

My name is Tawny Hernandez and I am 18 years old. I am in this predicament because, due to some medical issues in the past, the only college that offered me a full-ride scholarship, Blanke Schande College, now requires a full medical exam before allowing female students to attend. By this time I have already had the usual measuring, weighing (including my neck whatever that was for), and blood drawn. Now I am on a new kind of exam table waiting for the gynecological exam.

“Tawny, why are those girls undressing in the parking lot and leaving their clothes in their cars?” Rebecca asked eyes wide in wonder.

“I don’t know. There was nothing in the instructions about it. I was just told to wear something easy to remove for the exam,” I responded. “I do remember something in the literature about all females are required to be nude while on campus once school starts.”

Normally, I have to wear a bra. As you can see in the image above my breasts are too large to be allowed their freedom. Today I am wearing a thin cotton sleeveless dress with built-in support. The dress is like a second skin until it gets to my hips where it flairs out into a loose skirt that falls to mid-thigh. I am wearing thong panties but no bra (not needed as I pointed out) and strappy sandals on my feet. All of it was easy to remove as mentioned in the instructions for incoming freshmen.

About twenty years ago some women began speaking out in favor of nudity. Conferences and public speaking began garnering the attention of the media. It took ten years for the movement to reach politicians’ attention. Even religious organizations began backing down when the men, who wanted to see their women naked in public, stopped going to church until they stopped preaching body shaming, fear, and hatred concerning nudity.

Five years ago the new changes came into effect. This country had effectively become clothing optional. Parents eventually stopped buying clothes for anyone under the age of eighteen unless their doctor determined they had pretty much stopped having growth spurts. Why buy clothes for kids that will outgrow them in six months?

I am glad that my doctor told my mom I needed to wear a bra because my breasts were too big to hang free. Their weight could cause damage to the skin by stretching it too much and flopping around can be harmful as well. I was given halter-top-style bras with stiffeners on the sides to reduce movement, a one-and-a-half-inch band was sewn along the bottom just under my breasts and attached in the back with the usual bra hooks. The shoulder straps were two inches wide with a bit of padding to protect the shoulders. So they didn’t stand out too much they were custom ordered to match my skin tone. It was about this same time that I was permitted to wear clothes.

After five years of constant nudity, it was a period of adjustment to get used to clothes. I waited until school started and then only wore light dresses. To this day I can only stand silk, satin, and other super-light fabrics. The cotton dress I am wearing now is thin enough to see through. Not transparent but you can see my skin tone, my nipples, and if the light is just right it does almost appear invisible.

Rebecca, my best friend since Kindergarten, and I followed the naked girls into the clinic. I waited in line to check-in while Rebecca found a place for us to sit. When it was my turn the receptionist looked at me with a half-smile on her face as she noticed I was clothed.

“Please remove your clothes and leave them in one of the lockers along the far wall,” she instructed me.

After I was checked in I walked over to the wall with the lockers and removed my clothes. I folded the dress and laid it on the bottom of the cube-shaped locker. I removed my sandals and placed them on top of the dress and then removed my thong panties and tossed them on top of the sandals. I noticed there was no lock and closed the door. I walked over to where Rebecca was sitting and sat beside her.

“Will you hold on to my ID and keys? The locker doesn’t have a lock. I can live with losing my clothes but would prefer not to have my keys, ID, and cellphone stolen,” I said to her.

“Sure. I’ll put them in my purse,” she responded. I handed the items to her and watched as she dropped them into her purse.

We sat and talked with each other for an hour past my scheduled appointment. When I asked the receptionist about the time she informed me, “Miss, there are no appointments. You were asked as a group to show up at a certain time. Each of you will be called in the order that you were checked in. At this time you have two more ahead of you.”

I should be called next. They had been calling us back three at a time. Another hour later and I heard my name finally being called. “Marcia Hopkins, Maria Parker, and Tawny Hernandez. We stood and walked toward the nurse as each of our names was called. Since I was last I just followed along.

“Miss Hopkins, you will be in room one. Miss Parker in room two, and Miss Hernandez in room three,” the nurse told us.

I entered the room I was directed to and was surprised to see that there were two naked women in the room already. One had a hose with a spray nozzle on it. The other had a scrub brush and stood next to a bucket.

“Approach the wall. Put your hands and feet in the yellow circles,” the girl with the hose instructed. ’What is this, a prison shower?” I thought. I did as instructed and sure enough hose girl sprayed me down with cold water. It kind of hurt too. ‘Is it really necessary to use such high pressure? Does she think she’s trying to get clumps of dirt off of my fenders or undercarriage?’ After I was all wet she grabbed a second brush and they began to scrub me down with a harsh detergent.

“As part of this shower you will be given an enema. As part of your exam you will receive a colonoscopy, that is the doctor will run a camera into your colon,” Brush Girl told me. I watched as she opened a plastic package and removed a small device. She spread a gel on it from a small tube and spread it around the device with one finger. She knelt behind me and pressed the device to my back exit and pressed lightly ans she moved it is small circles, gradually increasing the pressure.

I lifted up on my toes trying to not let it in. I felt a hard smack on my left butt cheek and squeeled at the shock of it and the stinging pain. “Stop moving. Drop down on your heels and relax you sphincter muscle. The more you resist the more it will hurt going in. If you push like you’re taking a dump it will go in so much easier. You’re here with us until you are done with the shower and enema,” Brush Girl told me.

I dropped back to my heels as I was commanded and tried to relax. Brush Girl had to apply lube to my hole to finally get the plug into place. She pumped up the balloon on the inside to keep it from coming back out on its own. Then she connect a small hose about three-eighths of an inch in diameter to the plug. A half-inch diameter plug was connected to the other opening and ran to the shower drain. I felt cold water being pumped into me and saw my belly distent like I was in the first trimester of pregnancy.

Brush Girl turned off the water and went back to washing me. When they were done rinsing me off Hose Girl opened the valve to release the water from my bowels. It was pretty brown. Once I was empty of that foul water Brush girl opened the valve on the water and filled me up again. This time my belly was even bigger. They did this three times before the water came out clear (I hesitate to say clean).

“Before you can be examined you need to be scrubbed to make sure you don’t have any harmful or otherwise infectious bacteria on your skin. We will need to remove all body hair completely from the neck down. We will do this with a depilatory cream. As required by university policy you will be required to return here every four weeks to have it reapplied to maintain a hairless body. A hairless body from the neck down is required of all scholarship recipients to keep their scholarship. A hairless body is also required in accordance with the new amendments to the indecent exposure laws. These laws were implemented because the public complained to lawmakers about women who refused to keep public and body hair shaved or neatly trimmed. Now it is illegal for anyone appearing nude in public to have any body hair. Even men are required to shave their facial hair,” Brush Girl informed me.

“Repeated use of this cream will eventually result in permanent hairlessness. By the end of your freshman year, you shouldn’t need the cream any longer. If you see any stray hairs you are required to return here for additional treatments immediately after your last classof the day,” Brush Girl continued.

“Any time you go home for a school holiday you are required to return here for a lice check and shampoo, if needed, before you will be allowed to return to class. Do you understand these instructions, freshman?” Hose Girl asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. When this school first became clothing optional it was too much for hormonally driven teens to resist their natural drive to have sex. At first birth control was the responsibility of the students. They were considered adults, after all. This was only partially effective. The birthrate rose out of control and greatly affected enrollment but the spread of various STDs was what brought us to this exam and shower policy.

I had read in the history of the school that they implemented a birth control policy and added the cost to all female students’ tuition. It became a requirement to attend classes but it didn’t stem the rise of STDs. One year there was a lice infestation. There was no mention of who brought the lice to the school to begin with, privacy laws I suppose, but it cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to finally irradicate the pests.

After they had rinsed off the cream I was instructed to kneel and lean my head back with eyes closed. I complied. The hose, with greatly reduced pressure, was used to wet my hair. Brush Girl shampooed (medicated for lice) my hair twice before adding a medicated (lice treatment) conditioner. While waiting for the conditioner they had me stand so they could rub me down with a moisturizing oil. “This moisturizer oil is available in the bookstore. If you are a scholarship student it can be deducted from your student account,” Hose Girl informed me. ’That’s good to know. I like how it feels,’ I thought. ’My skin feels really soft, now.’

After my ‘prison-style’ shower I stood leaning against the wall until Brush Girl finally released the air from the balloon and removed the plug. With a final rince of my butt and legs I was finally ushered into the exam room. I stopped and stared in stunned silence at the alien-looking exam table. I was first led over to a chair where they drew several vials of blood. I watched as each vial was labeled and I initialed each one. I was asked to read the form and verify my personal information was correct. I verified the patient number on each vial matched what was printed on the form, signed and initialed pretty much everything, and handed the form back to her.

I was weighed and my body measurements were taken and written down on an iPad. She even measured the circumference of my neck (I wonder what that was for). I used the stylus and signed at the bottom of the document.

No wonder these exams were taking so long. This was the most comprehensive exam I have ever had in my life. I was given a breast exam then she wrapped my breasts very tightly and asked me to step onto the treadmill. She attached several leads to my torso and a breathing tube was put in my mouth and strapped to my head. I was instructed to run for fifteen minutes or as long as I could keep going. Since fitness was highly stressed in school since the nudity laws were changed I was in excellent condition. The nurse informed me that this was a stress test for my heart and to check lung capacity. ‘It is? I thought you had to breathe out through a tube and see how long you can keep the ball in the air for lung capacity. Oh well, I’m not a med student.’

After I was done on the treadmill the hose and leads were removed. She gave me a glass of orange juice (at least I hope it was) while she wiped me down with wipes to clean off the glue from the pads. She even looked in my mouth. Was she looking for cavities? I saw her mention that I had no cavities and saliva glands looked normal. Wait! Seriously?

I was finally led over to the weird table and asked to sit on the bottom ledge. I did as instructed and she began strapping my ankles to the bars under the table.

“Wait! What are you doing?” I asked mildly panicked.

She stopped and lightly held my hands. “It’ll be alright. The restraints serve several purposes. They keep the patient from falling off the table and protect the doctor during the exam should the patient become agitated. I would imagine the doctor would frown on the idea of being kicked in the head during an exam,” she explained in a soothing voice.

I wondered how many times she had to explain this. I calmed down and allowed her to finish strapping me to the table. She then inserted a spider gag into my mouth. I knew what one was and hoped an involuntary blowjob was not forthcoming. I was too nervous to relax much and lost track of time as I waited for the doctor.

‘What the fuck!? Where did that wall go? Was it always open like that? I never noticed it before,’ I thought. Then it finally dawned on me that the nurse kept my back to that wall the entire time I was being examined. That’s what I was looking at in the image above. I noticed they were wearing scrubs and lab coats so I surmised they must be med students here.

It seemed like my naked hairless body had been strapped to this table waiting for the doctor for half an hour before he finally showed up. You would think they would have extra doctors on hand for these exam days.

During the exam, the doctor attached more leads to my body. One on the top and bottom of my breasts. One on each side of my abdomen. One on the inner thigh of each leg. One on the thickest part of each calf muscle. One on top and bottom of each foot.

He pressed his fingers into my breasts looking for lumps (wait! Didn’t I already have a breast exam or was it an excuse for him to feel up my breasts?) and made notes on his tablet. Then he began to pinch, roll, and pull on my nipples. I squirmed and screamed as he did so. After he was done and I noticed how stiff my nipples were, he attached alligator-style clamps with even more wires attached to my erect nipples. I screamed again. When he was done with that I watched him as he took the wires from each lead and connected them to a machine with a lot of knobs, switches, and digital readouts with a big monitor on top. As he plugged in each lead I noticed the flat lines across the screen begin to show activity.

It was about that time I began to feel electric shocks coming from the pads at random times and locations. It was weak and annoying at first. The doctor just stood there and looked between me and the monitor. I realized he was shocking me and watching for my response. Every few shocks the intensity increased. I began to scream and fight against my bonds trying to get free and away from the shocks but I wasn’t going anywhere. The bonds were too tight.