I developed this story from an idea sent me by "ledatwo" back on
23 August 2005. I hope it will prove worth the wait.
WHAT GOES AROUND....
by
C. Lakewood
Valery Lewton hummed a tune as she gathered up her purse and
headed for her front door. A glance in the mirror reassured her
that, though she appeared very casual -- even slightly scruffy
-- it was an attractive look on her (and made her seem considerably
younger than her 34 years). Vassar sweatshirt, faded jeans, worn
sneakers...comfortable and so very practical for rooting through
flea markets, "junque" shops, and thrift stores -- to which she
planned on devoting most of the day, after she finished with that
damned corporate physical her new job -- VP of Marketing -- required.
She was fairly itching to spend more of that large increase in
salary that she was about to receive.
On her way out to her car, a sleek new BMW, Val glanced at her
watch. "More than enough time to get there. It's godawful to
have to be out and about this early on a day off, but I WILL have
the rest of the day for more interesting things," she said to
herself. She beamed at her lovely car, then frowned as she
remembered that it was somewhat less than lovely now, since some
goddamn maniac had dinged her door panel, twice, yesterday. The
outrage she had felt at this hooliganism came rushing back.
The day was definitely beginning badly...and it went downhill
fast, as she slid behind the wheel only to find that the battery
was dead. (In her fury, yesterday, she had apparently neglected
to turn off her lights.) When she phoned AAA, her call was
answered by what must have been Mortimer Snerd's stupider brother,
and, after finishing with him, she was absolutely livid. But she
was in an even fouler frame of mind by the time the serviceman
FINALLY showed up, did his thing, and left.
When she finally arrived at the corporate offices, she found
that a reserved parking space had not yet been assigned to her
and that she had to park among the ordinary worker bees, further
endangering the condition of her car.
Of course, she was much too late for her original appointment,
but the lead nurse, Dorothy Denton, promised to try to accommodate
her. That didn't do much to mollify her, however, and she fumed at
the further delay as she filled out the usual medical history
questionnaire.
When she turned in the form, the nurse asked her if she would
prefer to wait -- as a sort of standby -- or if she would rather
come back the following day.
"Neither!" she replied, her accustomed arrogance rising. "My
appointment is for today, and I expect to be seen today...AND in
a timely manner. I simply will not hang around this...'place,'
waiting for a handout."
"Alright," Nurse Denton said, evenly. "I'll go ask Doctor."
As she walked away, she glanced at the form Val had completed.
"'Marketing,' I might have known," she thought. "Those people
have no real skills, so they rely on kissing up to those above
them and bullying those below. Like what my daddy always said
about the French: 'They're either on their knees or at your
throat....'"
Tapping her foot impatiently, Val looked about her with some
distaste. "The Graceland school of interior decoration," she
thought, disdainfully. Then her eye fell upon the doctor's framed
diploma hanging on the wall...made out to "Franklyn Stein." She
snorted, a bit surprised that it had been issued by Rutgers, not
the University of Visaria.
She rolled her eyes and vowed silently to send a memo to HR
about this pit.
"I'm sorry," the nurse said on her return. "Doctor's much too
busy the rest of the day to see you. But, since it's a standard
exam, I could handle it, if you don't mind."
"Are you competent?"
"Oh, I've done it hundreds of times."
"That isn't what I asked," Val rasped.
"Then...yes, I AM competent to handle it." The nurse mentally
gritted her teeth.
"Oh? And where did you go to college?"
"I didn't.... I went to the Jeaudeau School of Nursing."
"Indeed?" Val put a monumental sneer into that single word.
She shrugged. "Oh, very well," she sighed, theatrically.
"Anything, I suppose, to get it over with...and get out of...here."
Dorothy somehow managed to hold her institutional smile.
"Room 3, down the hall. I'll be with you in a moment."
Though Dorothy Denton may have looked innocent enough, in
a pretty, blonde, girl-next-door sort of way, she had a clever,
salacious, and vindictive mind and the willingness to use it.
She didn't pursue a vendetta often, but, when she did, she
gave no quarter.
When her patient had truculently marched down the hallway
and disappeared into Room 3, Nurse Denton turned to her two
subordinates, Stella (a lanky brunette LPN, aged 40) and Georgie
(a petite 23-year-old with a dark pixie-cut and an impish grin).
"What a bitch!" Dorothy growled. "Well, I'm just not going to
stand for that crap. Georgie, remember that mock questionnaire
we all worked up for the April Fool's party? Print me out a copy,
ASAP."
Stella pursed her lips. "Are you sure...?"
"Absolutely!"
Stella shrugged. "Just checking." She giggled. "Should be
fun."
Georgie was already bent over the PC.
******************************
A few minutes later, Dorothy walked into Room 3, a clipboard in
her hand and a supercilious look on her face, to find Val waiting
with obvious irritation at the delay.
"Oh? Still dressed?" Dorothy said. "Please disrobe."
"Where is the gown...the dressing room?"
"There is no dressing room available, I'm afraid, and we've
run out of gowns. Please don't dilly-dally further."
Seething, Val self-consciously stripped down to bra and
panties.
"Everything," Dorothy prompted. "You need to be naked."
Val did it, but she certainly wasn't happy about it. "These
petty little tyrants, lording it over their inconsequential
fiefdoms," she thought. "They need to be taught a few lessons --
and I'm just the one to do it...starting with this arrogant bitch
here. Well, I'll play her goddamn game, NOW, because I don't want
to prolong it by arguing. But, afterward, HR is going to hear all
about how I'm being treated...."
The cold tile under her bare feet made her toes curl.
Dorothy looked her up and down, noncommittally. "First, we
need to get your height and weight, Ms. Lewton. Unfortunately,
this scale here is defective; we'll have to use the one in the
reception area." Before Val could mount a protest, the nurse had
hustled her out into the public area of the office. Much to Val's
relief, there were no patients in the waiting room. Still, that
could change at any moment, and she was acutely aware of her
nakedness and her exposed position as she stepped up onto the
hospital scale.
"Hmmm," Dorothy said. "You seem to be 5'7" and 147 pounds.
Georgie, would you come here and verify that, please?"
Grinning, the girl sauntered over and confirmed the numbers.
Dorothy grimaced. "You really could stand to lose some weight
-- 15 pounds or so," she said to Val. "Do you ever exercise?"
Val was flabbergasted, but Dorothy treated it as a rhetorical
question and moved on. Still standing in the tacky little waiting
room, she efficiently took Val's blood pressure and checked her
eyes, ears, and throat, while Georgie and Stella looked on with
poorly concealed amusement.
Twice, Val cleared her throat as if to speak, but stayed
silent. Being naked, more or less in public, was having an
inhibiting effect on her. But that was only the start. Not
only was she naked, but she was being ordered about by people
clothed in professional uniforms and acting within their field
of expertise...their particular bailiwick. Despite -- or maybe
partly because of -- her authoritarian personality, Val couldn't
help responding submissively, even though mentally she continued
to be resentful.
She was, however, thankful when she was finally led back to
Room 3.
Dorothy picked up her clipboard. "Okay. There are some
additional questions we need answered. And we might as well
get that done now, to speed things up. Right?"
"Fine. Just get to it." Val was beginning to regain some of
her former spirit. "Anything to expedite this exam."
Dorothy put on a serious expression. "I must warn you that
you will be expected to answer truthfully and completely and to
attest that you have done so. Declining to answer or responding
with even the slightest untruthfulness could result in your
dismissal."
"Yes, yes. I understand." ("Dismissal! Shit!" Val said to
herself.)
"Very well. Are you sexually active?"
"What in.... What can that possibly have to do with my
exam...or with my job, for that matter?"
"Please, Ms. Lewton, I'm just asking the questions and
recording your answers. They're standard questions that
everyone at your corporate level is required to answer."
"Well.... I'm not a virgin." Val squirmed, wishing she could
sit down...wishing she weren't naked...wishing the bitch hadn't
mentioned "dismissal"; she just couldn't afford to lose this job
-- so much of her salary had been committed -- even spent --
already....
"'Not a virgin....' Not a virgin...anywhere?"
"Oh! Well, my...um...bottom...it's virgin."
"Unh-huh. And have you been sexually active recently?"
"Um...no, not really."
"How recently?"
"I don't...some months, I guess...."
"With a man?"
"Of course!"
"Did you orgasm?"
"Yes."
"And, since then, have you masturbated?"
"Yes...occasionally."
"When was the last time?"
"Um...."
"Did you understand the question?"
"Yes, of course I did. It-it was...y-yesterday."
"Yesterday. And before that?
"Day before yesterday."
"Maybe we should define 'occasionally.' On average, how often
do you masturbate in a week?"
"I-I d-don't really...."
"Guess...as nearly as possible."
"Um...f-five or six, perhaps...."
"Or seven -- or more?"
"Yes, sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"Often...usually, I suppose...."
"Several times a day, sometimes?"
"Y-yes."
"Frequently?"
"Yes."
"Always to orgasm?"
"Yes." Val's anger was being drowned by her rising
humiliation.
The nurse paused and shuffled the forms on the clipboard.
"You know that we also have a medical research subsidiary, for
which we gather data. Currently, we are compiling information
on, among other things, sexual arousal. Based on your previous
answers, you appear to be an ideal subject. Alright?
Val guessed that refusing was not an option. She nodded.
"F-fine."
"O-kay. Onto the exam table now, please. Sit."
Val climbed awkwardly onto the table, the stiff paper liner
crinkling under her. As she was wriggling about into position,
the door opened. She looked up and squealed.
Two black men in white lab coats had walked in.
"Get them out of here!" Val screeched.
"Sorry, Ms. Lewton. LeRoy Johnson and Antwan Elam are research
associates and are expected to monitor the rest of your exam."
"But...."
"No 'buts,' ma'am. That's just the way things are. Now shake
hands with them and let us proceed."
Val did so, even though she found herself blushing at the
extremely unprofessional way that LeRoy and Antwan were looking
at her. They pulled chairs up close to the exam table, ring-side
seats, as it were, and tried to remember the hurried instructions
they'd been given: keep silent, appear serious, and try not to
drool. These directions were simple enough, but then they had
to be -- LeRoy and Antwan were janitors, after all, and both had
dropped out of school a long time ago.
Dorothy carried on with some more routine medical exam things
-- like drawing a blood sample and using a stethoscope to listen
to Val's breathing. Meanwhile, she was cherry-picking her memories
of the countless medical-themed porn stories she had read on the
'Net. She succeeded (barely) in keeping a straight face while she
kept exposing Val to the lecherous gaze of LeRoy and Antwan, who
were managing to play their parts just well enough. (Of course,
Val WAS distracted by what she was being put through and didn't
have the chance to really critique their performance objectively.)
Val was sweating and breathing hard and blushing deeply -- all
over -- even before Dorothy got to the "really good stuff."
"Please lie back, now, and put your feet in the stirrups,
ma'am. Good. Now, this next part is a bit...delicate...so I've
got to make sure you don't move around."
"But...."
But Dorothy simply ignored her, tied her down with rubber
tubing, and then drew a pan of warm water. Despite Val's feeble
protests, she trimmed Val's pubic hair, washed it, lathered it,
and shaved it off with a straight razor...offering only the
comment that it was so thick that it was hampering accurate
observation.
All the while, anger was competing with fear for dominance of
Val's psyche. And fear won. (Dorothy never knew how devastating
the threat of dismissal had been to Val, who, being new to the
company, felt so vulnerable without her usual network of allies
and useful toadies, her stock of cashable favors, and her
encyclopedic knowledge of just whose closets held skeletons
(and exactly how much this information was worth).
And, in fear's wake, came humiliation, both to weigh more and
more heavily upon her, until she was practically incapable of
rational thought.
Dorothy used calipers to measure Val's nipples, both before
and after stimulation. Ditto her clitoris. The amount of vaginal
lubrication Val produced in a given time period was putatively
measured (and, to Val's chagrin, it was copious). Her temperature
was continuously monitored by means of a rectal thermometer that
was inserted and removed repeatedly.
LeRoy and Antwan took voluminous, but largely incomprehensible
notes -- for "research purposes" -- throughout this process, in
addition to assisting in carrying out various of the stimulation
tests.
From time to time, Dorothy would assume an official tone and
admonish Val. "Please try not to twitch," she'd say. "I know it's
difficult, since you're so highly aroused, but DO try. Oh, my --
you are SO wet...."
She adjusted the rectal thermometer yet again, corkscrewing it
until she was (for the moment) satisfied with its placement. Val
squirmed, earning another rebuke.
"Despite your writhing about," Dorothy noted, "we have
collected some interesting data. Your nipple extention is
rather above average, while the enlargement of your clitoris
is truly phenomenal. Congratulations."
She removed the thermometer, did one last reading, and put it
aside. Almost done now...but we must do a digital comparison of
your non-virginal vagina and your virginal rectum."
"Please, noooo!"
"It IS true that you've never had anal intercourse, right?"
"Y-yes...ne-ver...."
Dorothy plunged a latex-gloved fore finger deep into Val's
pussy and wiggled it around a bit, while diddling the distended
clit with her thumb. Val gasped and involuntarily clamped down
on the invading finger. There was little she could do to resist
the assault, spread and secured as she was.
Val told herself that it would do no good to protest further.
She told herself, too, that she really HATED what that bitch nurse
was doing to her....
Then Dorothy moved on to Val's asshole.
******************************
By the time Dorothy had completed her "digital comparison,"
Val had gasped and twitched her way through three orgasms. LeRoy
and Antwan were ecstatic (though they did manage, with difficulty,
to resist high-fiving each other every time Val climaxed).
When she was finally released from the stirrups, she had to
stand against the wall on wobbly legs while Dorothy took a series
of "posture pictures" with her digital camera, "for the record."
Val was sweaty, sagging, played out...and obeyed without a
whimper.
As Dorothy put her camera away, she said, cheerfully, "Okay,
only one thing left to do. We need a urine sample."
She had considered putting Val through an enema, as well, but
decided against it, primarily because she could see that Val was
near the end of her tether. And, besides, her thirst for vengeance
was pretty well satisfied. She handed Val a sample cup.
Val looked at the cup and then at LeRoy and Antwan. "C-can I
do this in...private?" she asked, wearily, but already knew the
answer. She squatted awkwardly over the cup, but could produce
nothing. She pushed her stringy hair from her eyes and looked up
at Dorothy helplessly. She seemed on the verge of tears.
"There's bottled water in the 'fridge there. Drink as much as
you need to overcome your inhibitions. Let me know when you're
done; I'll be at my desk outside." Dorothy gave her a not unkindly
smile and left the room. She was actually beginning to feel a bit
sorry for this kid, despite her airs, her snotty college, and her
insufferable attitude.
******************************
Dorothy was taking care of some paperwork when the portly
Dr. Stein emerged from his office and stopped by her desk.
"How's Ms. Lewton?" he asked.
"Just finishing up now. Bashful kidney."
"She give you any trouble?"
"Not...really...."
"Good. Most of those marketing people are know-nothings, and
VPs can be pretty overbearing, so a marketing veep, well...."
"Vice president?" Dorothy croaked. (Not just an insolent,
entry-level drone?)
"Yeah, a new hire. Well, I'm glad she didn't turn out to be
a witch...."
The doctor went on to say something about taking an early
lunch, but Dorothy barely heard him. Her brain had gone into
over-drive, the wheels spinning so furiously that she almost
stripped her gears. Dr. Stein, his mind already fully occupied
with thoughts of lunch, was fortunately oblivious. As he was
leaving the office, Dorothy was making a flying visit to a locked
cabinet, where she funneled some green capsules into an unlabeled
pill bottle. Fortunately, that mechanical action didn't require
much thought, for her mind was racing on ahead....
(Need a way to locate the bitch's car.... Aha! Yuppie AND a
VP had to have a fancy car -- with an alarm....)
She pocketed the bottle, re-locked the cabinet, and scurried
off to Room 3.
She was lucky. Val Lewton was still concentrating on trying
to piss, and the two blacks were of course concentrating on Val.
Unnoticed, Dorothy shoved the pill bottle deep into Val's large
purse, filched her alarm remote, muttered something innocuous,
and exited again.
Moments later, she was on the phone to her sister, a local
policewoman. The conversation was lively but brief.
Then she paused in her whirlwind progress. She needed
something...something like a hammer or a ball bat... Her
eye fell on the heavy flashlight they kept for emergencies.
("Good enough," she thought. "And it IS an emergency.") She
snatched up the flashlight -- and a towel to protect it --
and dashed from the office. She was back shortly, in plenty
of time to return Val's remote surreptitiously. She sighed,
collected the urine sample, and told Val that she was finished
and could dress and leave.
******************************
Val flung herself into her car and sat there for a few
minutes, trembling. Her fear had gone, and, as the humiliation
began to ebb, her rage came bubbling up until she was perilously
near to erupting. Under the circumstances, it was not surprising
that she didn't notice the shattered tail-light, nor, as she pulled
out of the parking lot, that she didn't react to the approaching
police siren....