“Oh man”, thought Lacey. “This is not what I had in mind.”

Everyone else could wake up in the morning, tell their mom they didn’t feel very good and that would be it. A maternal hand on the forehead, a sympathetic “poor baby” and like magic you get a day curled up in bed with hot soup and all the teen magazines and daytime TV you could stand.

It had worked on Lacey’s mom any number of times before. But not this time. You’re new in this school, mom had said. It’s a good school and you know you can’t afford to miss too much time. And anyway, it’s been a while since you’ve seen a doctor.

“Mom,” Lacey whispered. Waiting rooms always made her feel like she had to be very, very quiet. “I’m really feeling ok now. I could probably just go to school with no problem.”

“Now, Lacey …”

“Lacey?” a nurse in a flowered frock was standing at the door that led into the inner sanctum of the doctor’s office. “The doctor is ready for you now.”

Lacey sunk deep into the chair, trying to make herself look real small. Maybe no one would notice. Maybe mom hadn’t heard.

“Do you want me to go in with you, honey?” mom asked.

Not a good idea. “No, that’s ok. I’ll be fine.”

The nurse gave her a sympathetic smile and pushed open the door leading into the examining area. Lacey rose from her chair and like a dead man walking followed the nurse out of the waiting room.

The truth was, she did feel a little sick. Her throat was a little scratchy and without too much faking she could generate a pretty convincing little cough. But not sick enough to warrant all of this. Not sick enough to face an expert who would immediately recogonize her game and declare her a lazy lay-about. He’d probably yell at her to stop wasting his time and order mom to send her off to school without an excuse note. Or worse, he’d write a note himself saying this girl is a sham. She’s not sick. She’s faking it and deserves the worst punishment the vice principal could legally inflict.

“Right in here, Lacey,” the nurse said opening the door to the examining room. The room was standard doctor’s office fare: examination table with the strip of disposable white paper down the middle, cabinet with mysterious boxes and cans and cannisters, a small wash basin in one corner and a scale in the other. And of course that sickening disinfectant smell that is required of all medical facilities.

“How old are you now, Lacey?”


“Are you taking any medication? Are you allergic to any drugs?” Lacey answered no to both questions and the nurse noted her answers in the file she held.

“And why have you come in to see us today?” Lacey mumbled something about not feeling very well and maybe catching a cold or flu or something.

“I see. Is this the first time you’ve been in to see us?” Yes.

“All right. Let me just check some preliminaries, then. I need to get your height and weight first. Take off your sneakers and those sweat pants look kind of heavy. Why don’t you slip them off, too.”

Lacey pushed her sweats down and stepped out of them. The long tee shirt she was wearing reached half way down her tanned thighs. The nurse told her to stand on the scales.

“86 pounds,” the nurse said as she made a mark in the file. “Now stand up straight. That’s good. 5 feet even.”

“5 feet and a quarter inch, really,” Lacey insisted.

“Right. 5 feet, one quarter inch it is. Now, take a seat on the table and let me check you blood pressure.”

While Lacey hopped up on the table, the nurse slipped a protective sleeve on an electronic thermometer.

“Open. Now keep this under your tongue.” Lacey tried to reposition the thermometer in her mouth. Why did the plastic sleeve always have to have such sharp edges? And why did it always have to go under the tongue? Surely the whole mouth was the same temperature as under the tongue.

The nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm and pumped it up. Lacey never had understood what that was all about. As the nurse released the air in the cuff the thermometer in Lacey’s mouth gave off an insistent “beep”.

“Soup’s on.” Lacey sang out, although with the thermometer under her tongue it came out more as “thoop thon”.

The nurse removed the thermometer and checked its readout window. She made another couple of notes in the file.

“Ok, Lacey. Just sit here and Dr. Clooney will be in to see you in just a minute.” She pulled the door closed behind her as she left.

Yeah, right, thought Lacey. I bet it’ll be just a minute. They always say that but it’s never just a minute. She started humming a tune that came into her head, swinging her brown legs in and out thumping her heels against the metal table in rhythm. She’d left her socks on, of course. That’s what they always told you, keep your socks on, probably because it was always so cold in doctor’s offices. I don’t know why that is.

She caught sight of herself in the metal paper towel dispenser and noticed that her hair was coming loose. She studied her reflection as she pulled her dark brown hair back in a pony tail and re-tied the rubber band around it. Her eyes were her best feature, she decided for the millionth time. Big bold deep brown eyes. Eyes a man could get lost in, her dad always said. Her face was kind of heart shaped. Cute. Yeah, that was what she was doomed to forever. Terminal cuteness. Never beautiful, not like mom. Lacey was naturally dark complected and a summer by the pool had deepened her tan to almost mediterranean proportions. She did have good skin.

But her body. Jeez, was it ever going to develop? She pulled her tee shirt tight against her chest. No man was ever going to drop dead over these pitiful bee stings. Not like mom. Maybe I’m adopted.

There was a light tap on the door just before it swung open. A tall, slender, nice looking man wearing the traditional white lab coat stepped into the room.

“Lacey? How do you do? I’m Dr. Clooney.”

The doctor wasn’t nearly as ancient as Lacey had expected. He couldn’t be more than 30 or so. Short shaggy brown hair. Deep blue eyes. A nice face. Yes, quite a nice face. Kind of dreamy, actually.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Oh, ok, I quess. I’ve got kind of a scratchy throat, so my mom thought maybe you should take a look at it.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Let’s see what we have here.” He took the lid off one of the glass cannisters on the cabinet and took out a tongue depressor.

Oh, great, thought Lacey. Here goes the game. She cleared her throat roughly a couple of times hoping she could maybe cause enough damage to be noticable.

“Are you congested, too? In your chest?”

“Umm, yeah, a little.”

“I see. Open wide and say the magic word.” Lacey opened her mouth and dutifully intoned “Aahh.”

“Hmmm. Well, that does look a little redder than it should.”

Lacey almost did a double take. “It does?”

“Yes, indeed. I can see where that would cause you some discomfort.”

He placed his big hands on each of her cheeks and gently pulled her eyelids down, peering deeply into each of her eyes. Then he attached a little cone-like device to his flashlight and looked inside each of Lacey’s ears.

He took a stethescope out of the pocket of his lab coat. “Lean forward a little so I can listen to your back.”

He tried to pull her tee shirt up but it was caught under Lacey’s butt.

When she realized he what he wanted, Lacey rocked back and forth from cheek to cheek so he could pull the shirt from under her.

Dr. Clooney pulled her shirt up nearly to her shoulders, then placed the listening disk of the stethescope just below her left shoulder blade.

“Take a deep breath. Good. Now again,” he said as he repositioned the disk from place to place on Lacey’s slender brown back.

“Now I need to listen to your heart. Why don’t we just take the shirt off. It’s only going to get in the way otherwise.”

Before Lacey could react, Dr. Clooney had pulled the shirt up over her head. All she could do was raise her arms so he could pull the shirt completely free.

Lacey felt her nipples harden the instant the cool air hit them. Shyly, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Lie back on the table, please, Lacey. That’s good. Just let your arms lie by your side.”

Lacey felt her face blush with embarrassment. Her budding pubescent breasts with puckered aureoles and nub-like nipples were completely exposed to this perfect stranger. Well, he was a doctor, she told herself. He has certainly seen a woman’s (okay, okay - a girl’s) breasts before.

Dr Clooney placed the stethescope’s disk on Lacey’s chest just below her left breast. When he moved the disk to the center of her chest, the sleeve of his coat caught on her nipple and plucked it sensuously. Lacey shivered convulsively.

“Cold?” he asked, his eyes set unavoidably on the tight stones of her nipples.

“Um … kind of,” Lacey mumbled.

“Just a minute more,” he said. He placed the disk on her rib cage, his hand completely enclosing her right breast. Lacey tried not to gasp out loud.

Dr. Clooney took the stethescope from his ears. He gently pressed his fingers to first Lacey’s right then her left breast.

“Have you experienced any soreness or tenderness in your breasts? Any lumps?” No, sir, Lacey whispered.

He took each nipple between thumb and forefinger and gently pinched and rotated the sensitive buds.

“Any unusual discharge?”

Lacey’s response could have been a “no” or it could have been a groan.

Dr. Clooney released her nipples. He pressed his fingers into her abdomen, first over here, then over there. First up high near her rib cage, then down lower near her panties. His fingers slipped under the

waist band of her panties and gently palpated Lacey’s right lower abdomen. As he moved his hand from her right to her left side, she felt his fingers catch on her wispy curly pubic hair. Lacey held her breath.

“Turn over now, please, Lacey.”

It took a moment for the words to penetrate, but Lacey finally realized what the doctor was asking and rolled onto her stomach. She felt the heat of her blushing cheeks as she laid her head on her crossed arms.

Dr. Clooney pressed his fingers up and down her spine. He placed one hand flat on her rib cage and tapped the fingers crisply with his other hand. The hollow thumping sound was sort of comforting for Lacey.

“Raise your hips up just a bit.” Lacey was so caught up in the sensuousness of a man’s strong hands on her body that she wasn’t sure she heard right. She raised her head from her arms and looked questioningly back at the doctor.

“Lift your hips up from the table,” he repeated.

Confused, Lacey did as she was asked. The doctor hooked his fingers into each side of the waist band of her panties and pulled the cotton briefs down to her knees fully revealing her beautiful tight little buns.

Lacey caught her breath. What? Why? When she looked back, the doctor was shaking down what looked like an oversized thermometer. It was longer and thicker than what she was used to. The bulb on the end was the size of small marble.

“Your oral temperature was a little elevated, Lacey,” Dr. Clooney said, as he checked the reading on the thermometer. “Now that may not mean you really have a fever. It could be just the result of having eaten a hot bowl of oatmeal for breakfast this morning. Or if you had a cold glass of orange juice, you could in fact have an even higher temperature than what the nurse found. So, just to be sure, I’m going to take an internal reading.”

Lacey still wasn’t quite sure what that meant. She had almost gathered her courage to ask when she saw the doctor slipping a latex finger cot over his index finger. A strange feeling was growing in the pit of her stomach. Dr. Clooney spread a glob of slimy slippery looking stuff on the tip of his rubber encased finger.

“This is still the most reliable method of taking a temperature,” he said as he approached Lacey’s bare bottom.

Lacey gasped when he slid the fingers of his left hand into the crack of her butt and gently pried the cheeks apart, exposing her tender virgin asshole. He saw her anus pucker and tighten, drawing up defensively.

“Relax, Lacey. Surely you’ve had your temperature taken rectally before.” She didn’t trust herself to answer, so she simply nodded her head slightly.

“Well then you know it doesn’t hurt. Just relax and it will all be over in a minute.”

He spread her cheeks again and lightly touched the tip of his finger to her anus. Lacey immediately recoiled away from the contact. But Dr. Clooney was not inexperienced in dealing with timid young ladies. He teased his finger against her trembling asshole, passing back and forth lightly across the opening, almost tickling the sensitive flesh. Then, when Lacey no longer automatically jerked away from his touch, he began to gently insinuate his finger into the orifice. First just the pad of his finger penetrated. Then the entire finger tip. Soon, his finger was buried up to the first knuckle in her fundament. Then up to the second knuckle. Gently, sensually, he massaged the walls of her anal passage, twisting his hand slowly back and forth. His left hand caressed Lacey’s buttocks, willing her to relax her taut gluteal muscles as well as her anal sphincter. At last, he decided Lacey was relaxed enough.

He removed his finger, rolled off the finger cot, and picked up the thermometer. He touched the bulb to Lacey’s glistening asshole. He teased the tip gently into her anal ring and then immediately withdrew it. Several more times, he pushed the slippery marble into her orifice, a little deeper each time, only to withdraw it again. And increasingly each time, instead of pulling away and closing up, Lacey’s anus began to push towards the intruding glass bulb, sucking at it, trying to draw it inside of her. Her breathing and her body motion began to coordinate with the push in, pull out movement of the bulb.

At last, Dr. Clooney pushed the thermometer its full length into Lacey’s asshole and left it there.

“It will take a couple of minutes for the temperature to register, Lacey. Just lie quietly.”

He left his hand on Lacey’s buttocks, rhythmically patting her bottom with his palm. Every once in a while, he would twist the thermometer a quarter turn or pull it out or push it in a few millimeters. Each twist and push and pull and pat sent a shiver up Lacey’s spine. Her nipples were now rock hard. She felt a disquieting tingle in her private parts and an unfamiliar moistness between her legs.

Almost too soon, Dr. Clooney said, “That should do it,” and without ceremony withdrew the thermometer from Lacey’s anus.

“Hmmm,” he said. “Yes, you do have a slight temperature. I think we should do something about that before it gets out of hand.”

With a tissue, the doctor gently wiped the residue of lubricant from her asshole. Lacey tried hard to concentrate on what he was saying but she wasn’t sure she caught it all. Something about antibiotics and catching it in the bud.

Suddenly, his hands were no longer touching her.

“You can get dressed now, Lacey. I’ll be back in a minute with your prescription.”

It took a moment after he had closed the door behind him for Lacey to regain enough strength to lift herself up. She pulled her panties up and sat up on the table. Whew! Somehow, she didn’t remember temperature taking being like that. She hopped off the table and pulled another tissue out of the box. She pushed the tissue down the front of her panties and mopped up the moisture she found in her slit. Her knees nearly gave way when she touched her erect electrically charged clitoris. No. Mom had never taken her temperature like that, that’s for sure.

And she wasn’t in trouble, she thought gleefully. She really was a little sick. Not enough to make a big deal out of, but just enough to escape a lecture and punishment. Great. Maybe things weren’t going as badly as she had thought.

She tossed the tissue in the waste basket and pulled on her tee shirt and sweat pants.

She was just tying her sneakers when Dr. Clooney opened the door, showing mom into the examination room.

“It’s nothing serious, Mrs. Chabert,” he was saying. “A slight throat infection. It is lucky that you came in. We caught it before it could develop into something more serious. I’ll give her some antibiotics and it should clear up quite easily.”

“Well, isn’t that good news, Lacey?” said mom. Lacey gave her a brave invalid’s smile and slumped exhaustedly against the table.

“By the way, has Lacey had a flu shot this year?” Dr. Clooney asked.

“Well, no, she hasn’t. Actually, we just moved into the area and I haven’t had a chance to get around to that sort of thing,” said mom.

“I see. Well, in this climate I would strongly recommend that you both get flu shots as soon as possible. You can see how quickly Lacey came down with the first bug that came along.”

“Yes. I hadn’t thought of that …”

“In fact, if you have a couple of minutes, I could give you both your shots right now.”

Lacey snapped to attention. She did not like this talk of shots.

“Oh. Well,” mom stammered. In truth, she wasn’t overly fond of shots herself. “I … I wouldn’t want to cause you any bother.”

“No bother at all,” Dr. Clooney beamed. “You two ladies wait right here and I will be right back.”

Lacey and mom were silent a moment, staring at the door the doctor had just departed through.

“Well,” said mom. “It’s a good thing we came in, isn’t it, honey.”

“Mmmm,” Lacey said.

“And very nice of him to take the extra time to … to …”

“Mmmm,” Lacey said again. It wasn’t the first time her mother’s flirtatious ways had gotten them in trouble.

The door opened again and Dr Clooney entered carrying a small covered tray.

“Here we are,” he chirped cheerfully. “We will have you two ladies immunized and out of here in no time at all. Why don’t you go first, Mrs. Chabert, and show Lacey there is nothing to be afraid of.”

“Yes, that is a good idea.” Mom undid her cuff and began rolling up her sleeve.

Dr. Clooney pulled the cover off the tray. On it, Lacey saw two hypodermic syringes loaded to the brim with a pale bluish liquid, one empty spare syringe and a small serum bottle filled with a thick milky white fluid. The doctor picked up one of the loaded syringes and took the plastic cap off of the needle. Lacey’s eyes widened appreciably at the length of the needle. That looked like a lot more steel than was necessary for a simple shot in the arm. Doctor Clooney took the lid off one of the cannisters sitting on the cabinet. Immediately, the room was filled with the pungent sweet smell of alcohol. He reached into the cannister and pulled out a fluffy white cotton swab permeated with alcohol.

“All right, Mrs. Chabert. Why don’t you loosen your jeans and bend over the table.”

“What?” Mom froze, her dark eyes growing as wide as Lacey’s.

“Yes,” said Dr. Clooney. “I’m afraid this is for your bottom.”

It took mom several moments to comprehend. This was definitely more than she had bargained for. As far as she could remember, she had always gotten flu shots in the arm. Surely that was the way it was supposed to be done. But with Lacey watching her closely she could hardly make a fuss.

“I see. Of course. If that’s what you think is best.”

With as much dignity as the situation allowed, mom unzipped her fly and turned to face the table. She lowered her jeans to the top of her panties. She bent slightly forward over the table holding her jeans firmly in place. Several inches of bare hip were visible between her blouse and her jeans.

“That’s fine, Mrs. Chabert. I just need a little more exposure.” Dr. Clooney hooked his thumbs into the waist band of mom’s exposed panties and pulled panties and jeans together down to her knees.

“There now, that’s better.” Mom gasped and acted for a moment like she was going to snatch her clothes back up over her bared rump. Gradually though, she recovered her composure, and gingerly placed her hands on the table.

“Bend over just a little more, please.” With his hand, the doctor gently but firmly pressed mom down until her full breasts rested on the table. She was now bent at a 90 degree angle with her luscious bottom sticking out invitingly.

Lacey watched as the doctor touched the alcohol swab to her mother’s rear end. He scrubbed a small area clean leaving a shiny circle of wetness on mom’s butt. Lacey could see goose pimples spring up all across her trim white bottom and up and down her thighs.

“Just relax, now, this won’t hurt,” the doctor intoned distractedly as he checked the dosage of the syringe.

Mom was in good shape with very little extra flesh on her. Bent over as she was, the skin of her butt was naturally pulled even tighter. So tight, in fact, that when the doctor plunged the needle into her buttock there was an audible pop as the steel penetrated skin.

Mom gasped and started to straighten up. Dr. Clooney held her down with his forearm.

“Easy, Mrs. Chabert. Almost done.”

The needle had penetrated only about a quarter inch. Dr. Clooney firmly pushed the needle in its full length. Lacey could her her mother gritting her teeth. The doctor repositioned his hand so that the syringe was between his fingers and his thumb was on the plunger.

Slowly, agonizingly, the doctor injected the serum into mom’s voluptuous bottom. Mom let out a choked grunt. Then a more extended groan. Her beautiful face, normally so composed, was screwed up in a terrible grimace.

At last the plunger reached the bottom of the syringe and the doctor pulled the needle out of mom’s buttock.

“Very good, Mrs. Chabert,” he said as he vigorously rubbed the cotton swab over the wound in mom’s hiney. “All done.”

Mom turned away from Lacey as she bent to retrieve her panties. She gingerly pulled them up in place taking special care as the elastic waist band passed over her offended cheek. She used the time it took to pull up her jeans and zip up her fly to compose herself before she turned to Lacey and said, “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”

Lacey, seeing her mom’s flushed cheeks and the redness around her eyes, was not overly comforted.

“Your turn, Lacey,” said Dr. Clooney, wielding the other loaded syringe. “Pull down your panties and bend over the table.”

Eyes fastened on the sharp point of the needle, Lacey, as if hypnotized, started to do as she was asked. She moved on wobbily legs to the edge of the table. She hooked her thumbs into the top of her sweat pants.

Before she could find the strength to push them down, Dr. Clooney said,

“Maybe you would be more comfortable if you were lying down on the table?”

Yes, that would be better. At least then when she fainted from fright she wouldn’t have as far to fall.

She climbed up on the table and kneeling, pushed her sweat pants and panties down to her knees. Her tee shirt was so long and full it almost touched the table. She edged it up in front a little as she stretched out her full length. The rear of the shirt tail she made sure was still covering her back side. A pointless gesture to be sure, but it seemed important at to her at the time.

Standing on her left side, Dr. Clooney lifted Lacey’s shirt tail and pulled it well up her back, exposing the quivering mounds of her tight trim bottom. A moment later, Lacey felt the icy wet touch of the cotton swab on her butt cheek. The sweet sickening smell of the alcohol reached her nose and made her want to retch.

“Try to relax, Lacey. This isn’t going to hurt.”

Yeah, right.

She peeked over her left shoulder in time to see him positioning the needle inches above her tender cheek. She felt the doctor place his left hand on the lower part of her butt and pull the skin in the target area taut.

Lacey bit her lip and closed her eyes and held her breath and willed herself to be brave.

Even so, the pop of the needle as it penetrated the sensitive skin of her bottom took her by surprise. She let out a yelp and felt her whole body jerk in response. She was so tense and so prepared for the agonizing pain that she almost didn’t notice that she wasn’t hurting anywhere near as much as she expected. Even when the doctor pushed the needle in its full length, the actual pain was so much less than anticipated that it was almost a relief. Granted, when he started injecting the serum it got to be a little more uncomfortable, especially when it kept going on and on and on. And sure, maybe at the end when the last little bit of drug insinuated its way into her tense gluteal muscle she let out a little whine and a tear or two might have been squeezed out of her eyes. But really, all in all, it wasn’t nearly as bad as she expected.

And at last, it was over. The doctor pulled the needle from her rump and firmly massaged the invaded muscle with the cotton swab.

“There now, Lacey,” he said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

No, she had to admit. It really wasn’t.

She pushed herself up to a kneeling position and started to pull up her panties.

“Wait just a second, Lacey. We are not quite done.”


“That was the flu shot. I still have to give you some penicillan.”

She watched in horror as he picked up the empty third syringe from the tray. It was obviously larger than the other two had been and when he popped the plastic cap off of the needle, Lacey felt her heart leap into her throat. The needle was even thicker and longer than the one that had just pierced her tender bum.

“I was going to just write you a prescription for oral antibiotics,” the doctor said as he plunged the spike-like needle into the serum bottle, inverted it and drew the entire contents of the bottle into the barrel of the syringe. “But since you were going to get your flu shot today anyway, I decided this was better.”

He pointed the needle at the ceiling as he checked the dosage in the syringe. Lacey felt the blood drain from her face when he pushed the plunger in slightly and stream of milky white fluid erupted from the tip of the needle.

“Oral penicillan isn’t nearly as effective. So this really is better. Lie down on your stomach again, Lacey.”

It isn’t fair, Lacey thought. It just isn’t fair. She stretched out her full length on the table and pulled her tee shirt up, exposing once again her precious bottom.

“I’ll give this to you in the other cheek,” Dr. Clooney said.

Lacey closed her eyes and again prepared herself for the worst. She could get through this. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. She had done all right the first time and she would do all right now.

She felt the cotton swab scrub clean a spot on her hiney. She took a deep breath.

This time instead of pulling the skin of her cheek taut, Dr. Clooney pinched her entire right buttock between his fingers and thumb. His fingers were lodged in the crack of Lacey’s bottom, his little finger tickling her still tingling still moist anus.

“All right now, Lacey. Are you ready?”

What a stupid question. But be polite. “Yes, s… s… sir,” she managed to stammer out.

Expecting the same quick plunge of stabbing needle as before, Lacey was surprised to feel the point of the needle being touched lightly to the skin of her butt. Gradually, the pressure on the point was increased and with it the pain. This time when the tip of the needle penetrated the surface of her cheek, she felt every steely barbed molecule.

Deeper and deeper the steel bit into her butt. It felt like he was shoving a railroad spike into her tight little tush. Lacey gave up trying to hold the pain inside. When her breath escaped, it came out with a sound she didn’t even recognize as coming from her.

“Ow ow oowooo oow owwwww!”

At last, the needle stopped its invasion. Lacey tried to catch her breath. This couldn’t be happening. Nothing could hurt this much and be good for you.

“This is going to hurt a little now, Lacey.”

Was he out of his mind? What did he think what just happened had felt like?

But he was right.

The first squirt of serum invading her gluteal muscle burned so much Lacey let out a shriek. And then more was injected and more after that and then even more after that. With every squirt, the flame intensified and spread and expanded. Her butt was being blown up like a balloon. But instead of air filling the balloon, napalm filled her ass.

Liquid flame was being pumped into the muscles of her butt. More and more until she was certain she was going to explode.

Her mind told her the only way to relieve the pain in her butt was to scream her head off. So she did. She shrieked. She screeched. She wailed.

Her bottom hurt so much she didn’t even feel the needle being pulled out. It hurt so much she didn’t feel Dr. Clooney massaging the muscle with the swab. She continued to bawl long after the syringe was broken down and disposed of.

The need for air more than anything else caused her to begin to quieten. After what seemed like hours, she was able to regain sufficient control that only the occasional sob hiccuped from her. She noticed the white paper that covered the examination table under her was soaked through from her tears. She became aware of her mother gently patting her back. She became aware that her scorched ravaged ass was still on display to the world.

When she finally felt able, she pushed herself up from the table. Her butt still pulsed with pain, but it was gradually diminishing. With a sniffle and a sob, she pulled her panties up over her throbbing bottom, a little surprised to discover that it really wasn’t swollen twice its normal size.

She pulled her sweat pants up and with great care got down from table.

Dr. Clooney was talking to mom. She couldn’t hear everything but she was pretty sure she heard him say:

“Give her a clear water enema when you get home.”

Right. Fine. Whatever.

“And remember, it is very important to complete the entire course of antibiotics. I’ll need to see her tomorrow and the next day for her next two penicillan injections.”

“Oh man,” thought Lacey. “This is not what I had in mind.”