Dylan's Exam

In the spring of his 16th year, young Dylan made the decision to join the high school track team. Ever since his growth spurt over the summer, the high school junior- who now was a respectable 6-feet tall- had been encouraged by his friends to join the basketball team or the track and field team.

In the past, Dylan had all kinds of excuses for not joining. “I’m too busy…I don’t like track…I want to spend time with my girlfriend.” In reality, it was the fact that he was very awkward and concerned about his self image that stopped him from joining. Yes, puberty had been tough on poor Dylan. All through his 15th year, his voice cracked, and the lanky teen would often go through his days with a near-constant erection.

It was Dylan’s best friend Lance who finally convinced him that the track team would be a wise decision. “It’ll make you more confident, stronger, and you’ll feel better,” Lance said in a authoritative voice. And Dylan agreed. That Monday, the two of them went to the gym to sign Dylan up for the track team. The paperwork was simple enough…name, date of birth, address, parents signature, and a doctor’s note saying Dylan was in good health and wouldn’t keel over and die on the field.

Simple stuff. Except the doctor’s note. It had been over a year since Dylan had been to a doctor. He was healthy, and although his parents wanted him to go more often, he convinced them it wasn’t necessary. An independent kid- he got his drivers’ license the day he turned 16- Dylan made no hesitation from the time he got home to call his doctor to schedule the appointment. But there was a glitch: the receptionist told Dylan his regular doctor was busy for the next three weeks. Dylan couldn’t wait; he explained that in order to join the team he needed the note by the following Monday.

So the helpful receptionist made a suggestion. “We can set up an appointment with Dr. Rosen, “ she explained. “He’s a new doctor who just joined our practice a few weeks ago. He can see you Wednesday after school.” Dylan said that was fine, and the two friends spent the rest of the day hanging out and playing.

When they were younger, Lance and Dylan were inseparable… they’d play video games, go to the mall, and just hang out and have fun. So it wasn’t surprising that when Wednesday came, Dylan asked Lance to join him at the doctor’s office.

“I’m a little nervous,” Dylan said. “And I want you to make sure that things are okay. You know how I hate needles.” Lance said, “sure,” and joked that he would even hold Dylan’s hand if the doctor needed to draw blood.

After school, the two friends jumped into Dylan’s car and drove 2 miles to his doctor’s office. When they got to the office, they noted the new sign on the door: Dr. Brian Rosen, Adolescent Medicine and Endocrinology. Dylan felt pleased that he didn’t have to see his childhood pediatrician anymore…here was a doctor who dealt especially with teens. No more baby stuff. A quick visit with the Doc, get the approval note to join the team, and that’s it. So he thought.

Dylan signed in and the two waited for about 10 minutes before a pretty young nurse called his name.

As he walked to the door, he piped up, “Um, would it be okay if my friend Lance can come in also?” The nurse thought a second and then said, “sure.” And the three walked down the hallway to an clean examination room.

The nurse pulled out the roll of paper on the exam table and told Dylan to take a seat on the table. Lance took a seat in the corner of the room in one of two chairs facing the table. Dylan was dressed casually…a plain white T- shirt and Levi’s blue jeans; his short brown hair was parted to the right. The nurse explained that the office has been busy with students needing physical examinations for sports at school. Dylan’s eyes raised. He sounded concerned.

“I don’t need an exam, just need a note from the doctor so I can play sports. I feel fine.”

“The doctor will determine that after he examines you,” the nurse pleasantly explained. “Now relax so I can take your temperature and blood pressure.”

The nurse popped the thermometer in his mouth and started pumping the bulb on the blood pressure machine. Meanwhile, she started telling the two young men that Doctor Rosen is an expert in the field of adolescent medicine. “He’s a fine young doctor who knows his stuff and will treat you right. He’s very thorough,” she said.

Looking squarely at Dylan, the nurse said, “You’re in great shape; everything checks out fine. Now would you please undress to your underwear and wait on the table. The doctor will be right with you.” And she left the room.

Lance could almost hear Dylan’s heart skip a beat. “C’mon dude, it’s no big deal. Do you want me to leave?”

A long silence. “Nah, it’s okay, Lance…we’re best friends.” And the slim 16-year-old started removing his clothes. Shoes first…then socks. He undid his belt and lowered his tight jeans and stepped out of them, placing them on the other chair. He took a deep breath and pulled his T-shirt above his head and off his body. Then, he took a seat on the exam table, wearing nothing but clean white briefs, his smooth legs hanging over the side. Dylan avoided eye contact with Lance and waited quietly for Doctor Rosen. Lance was starting at him and could sense that Dylan was nervous.

Soon, a knock on the door, and a handsome looking man in his early 30’s in a labcoat entered, carrying a clipboard and Dylan’s medical records. “Hello. I’m Doctor Rosen. You must be Dylan. Pleased to meet you. I see you’ve brought a friend along.”

“Hi. Um…this is my friend Lance…we grew up together and we just wanted to come here to get a doctor’s note so I can play sports at school.”

“Well, Dylan, I’ll be happy to give you that, but we’ve got to make sure that everything is fine and that you’re healthy enough to play. I’m going to do some tests and take some measurements to make sure that everything is fine with you. And seeing how you just turned 16, it’s important that we make sure your adolescent development is proceeding correctly. It’s nothing to get nervous about.”

“Sure.” was all Dylan could say.

The doctor started by looking in Dylan’s ears, eyes, nose, and throat. At the same time, the doctor tried to make small talk. “How are you doing in school? Any sisters or brothers? Are you from here originally? Who’s your favorite football team? Are you into computers?”

“Good, one, yes, I don’t have one, yes,” were his answers. His mind was whirring. And he was worrying. He was wearing nothing but his white briefs. And it was going to get worse.

The doctor took out a reflex hammer; Dylan’s knees shot into the air when the doctor tapped them. The doctor also tested Dylan’s elbow reflexes with similar results.

“Good man, Dylan, now please hop off the table and step onto the scale so I can get your height and weight.” The doctor fiddled with the scale a bit and called out the numbers as he wrote them down on the chart. “6-feet tall and 165-pounds.” The doctor ordered Dylan off the scale and told him to stand in the center of the exam room. The boy complied and stood proud and upright, avoiding eye contact with his best friend who watched silently from his seat to Dylan’s right.

“Just stare straight ahead at the wall,” requested the doctor. The silence was awkward. The doctor circled around Dylan several times, sizing him up while taking notes, all the while visually examining the boy’s smooth and lightly-tanned body. Dylan’s hazel eyes gazed straight ahead, filled with a look of concern and embarrassment.

After a minute, the doctor rested the chart on the exam table. “Dylan, I need you to bend down and touch your toes.”

For the first time, the young doctor’s hands touched Dylan’s flesh. He placed his index and middle fingers at the top of Dylans neck and slowly moved his fingers down his back.

“I’m checking your spine for scoliosis,” he explained to young Dylan, still hunched over and touching his toes. “Good posture is vital for good health. Now please stand as straight as possible with your hands at your side.”

The doctor reached into his labcoat and pulled out a small white fabric tapemeasure.

“We’re going to get some measurements here to make sure everything’s proportionate.” The doctor started unraveling the tapemeasure from the back of Dylan’s skull and wrapped it all around the boy’s head. 22-inches in circumference, noted the doctor on the pad.

“Let’s get your chestspan; lift your arms, please”. The tapemeasure circled Dylan’s smooth chest, resting slightly above his nipples. “32 inches,” the doctor announced. “As you get older, and especially if you work out, your chest size will increase,” he scientifically proclaimed.

“Now let’s get your waist size.” The doctor’s hands tickled as he wrapped the tapemeasure around Dylan’s 29-inch waist, an inch above his bare stomach. “Good job. Now hop up on the table and lay on your back.” The boy silently complied as Lance looked on with amazement. He was actually very aroused by the sight of his friend getting examined.

Dylan was shivering, his lanky hands resting at his side while he stared up at the ceiling. The doctor stood at the side of the table, looking down at the young man laying down before him. “Clasp your hands behind your head.” The boy reluctantly obeyed. Dylan had only recently started sporting armpit hair. The doctor rubbed his finger along Dylan’s warm left underarm and tugged on several long black hairs. “This is a good sign of development, Dylan. How long has the hair been coming out?”

“Um…a few months, I guess,” was his quiet response.

The doctor told Dylan he could put his arms back at his side. Then the doctor started tapping his fingers on the boy’s chest and breastbone.

The doctor explained everything. “I’m testing for respiratory congestion right now. Checks out okay.”

The next move startled Dylan. The doctor started tickling the boy’s nipples. “By carefully examining the area around the nipples, we can get a good assessment if you’re going to have a hairy chest. I don’t feel anything here, but then again, some males never develop chest hair.”

The doctor’s eyes and hands then moved down to Dylan’s navel area. The doctor massaged Dylan’s belly in a circular motion, checking for bowel obstructions. “No problems here,” he noted. However, he took some interest in the fine line of hair that started at the bellybutton and worked its way down to the region covered by the boy’s briefs.

“You’ve got some healthy hair development, Dylan. That’s good. Now let’s have a look at your pubic area.” Suddenly, Dylan’s fear became a reality. Putting his fingers under the boy’s waistband, the doctor commanded Dylan to, “lift your hips.” As Dylan’s buttocks were in the air, he quickly pulled the underpants down the teenager’s slim hips until the waistband of the shorts was at mid-thigh.

The doctor’s eyes settled on Dylan’s naked crotch. His penis was soft, and his balls were pulled up tight. The small patch of pubic hair formed a neat triangle pattern.

“You’ve got some healthy development here, Dylan. Now, just relax.”

The doctor took out his tapemeasure again and ever-so-gently placed it along Dylan’s slender soft dick. He wrote the number in the chart: 3.5” soft.

The doctor moved his fingers to the tuft of pubic hair and started tickling the area right above Dylan’s penis. The poor boy was sweating like a pig. He forced himself to think about sports…and about school…anything to get his mind off the fact that his most private parts were being intimately examined. But it didn’t work. Dylan’s boycock suddenly sprang to life.

Doctor Rosen took the opportunity to measure Dylan’s engorged dong. The feel of the doctor’s hands on his hard penis sent a jolt of pleasure to Dylan’s brain. The doctor held the tapemeasure against the boy’s penis. “6.5 inches. That’s very respectable, son. Now spread your legs please.” said the doctor bluntly. He removed the tapemeasure and grasped the slender penis for several seconds. He could feel it twitching in his hand.

The doctor released Dylan’s penis and traded the tapemeasure for an odd looking set of five plastic orbs. “These are called Tanner Balls,” he explained. “They help measure the size of your testicles. It’s a good way to assess what stage of puberty you’re in.”

With his left hand, Doctor Rosen gripped Dylan’s right testicle. He rolled it around in his fingers and tugged on it just a bit. Then he did the same with Dylan’s left ball. Dylan squirmed and his breathing started getting heavier. With the tanner balls in his right hand, the doctor measured the size of Dylan’s testes. “Looks like you’re in Stage 4 development,” he said dryly.

The doctor made some more notes and put the beads back in his coat pocket.

“Okay, Dylan, I need you up on your knees, and elbows, leaning over the exam table. We’ve got to do a prostate exam.”

“Do we have to?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s important,” was the answer.

As the doctor took out a pair of latex gloves from the cabinet, Dylan haltingly got into the position.

“This won’t hurt at all if you relax.” With that, the doctor used his left hand to gently spread the boy’s buttocks a little more, and pressed his gloved fingertip lightly against the virgin teen anus. “Just press back as if you were going to the bathroom, Dylan.”

Dr. Rosen could feel the boy’s hole slowly open up. Gradually, accompanied by an in-and-out motion, the doctor was able to slide almost all of his finger into the young man and feel the familiar lump of his prostate. He silently marveled at just how tight and warm a teen’s rectum was.

The doctor quickly glanced over at Lance. He was amused to see that the 16 year old was wide-eyed as he intently watched the doctor penetrate his best friend’s asshole.

Now Dr. Rosen began his massage of the boy’s prostate in earnest.

In less than a minute, Dylan’s legs began to quiver. The doctor picked up the specimen jar with his left hand and reached under and around Dylan’s waist. He pried the teenager’s rigid penis away from its position against the boy’s slight covering of pubic hair, and inserted the glans into the wide-mouthed jar. He held it that way and continued the massage. Dylan let out a grunt and Dr. Rosen felt the boy’s ass clamp down tightly against his finger. His young penis jerked repeatedly, and the doctor could feel the jets of semen hitting the walls of the jar. Dylan went limp. If it hadn’t been for Dr. Roesn’s arm, the boy would have collapsed onto the table. The prostate massage had caused him to have the most intense orgasm of his life. The doctor eased his arm and the specimen jar out from under Dylan and gently let the boy down.

He dragged himself off of the examination table and stood beside it. He appeared almost oblivious to his surroundings. His face and upper chest were flushed. His penis was still almost fully hard, its head red and glistening wet with the remnants of his ejaculation. Both his friend and Dr. Rosen were staring at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

After a few seconds, Dylan began to dress. As the teen’s white jockey shorts became covered by his Levi’s, Dr. Rosen tore his eyes away and began to fill out some paperwork.