"Nothing."
A guy would go in and take 30 minutes.
"What they'd do?"
"You don't wanna know."
So it's my turn. I go in. The doctor is a woman. Her assistant is just a trainer, not a doctor, and she's a woman too. So they check this and that and then she says "take off your pants."
Then she says "take off your underwear."
Then she grabs me by the balls and starts playing around with them, and not in a sexy way. It feels like having someone pull out your kidneys or your eyes and roll them around in their fingers while they're still attached, in case you were curious. It isn't fun AT ALL. The trainer woman is going in and out the door, always looking over at me as she passes by. The volleyball girls are peeking in the door at my junk when it swings open. The trainer girl nearly falls over a box of stuff as she's peeking while the doc is trying to see how long she can roll my nuts before I puke on her. I'm like, "having fun? I don't have a hernia. I think we've established this by now. I don't have testicular cancer, but thanks for checking. Who the fuck is the trainer and why is she in here? How many volleyball players need to see my dick before we're done here? Are you gonna buy those or just play with them until they're worn out?"
This was the beginning of my freshman year, my introduction to college. Later that same term I would join a fraternity. And then I learned about real naked humiliation. But at least that always included hot girls and beer.
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