Hey Everyone. My bad. Like Ollie - I sincerely apologize. I messed up big time. I decided to enhance all three Ollie stories and publish them on Kindle. Which is fine. Except they didn't need to be taken down from this site. That was my over-reaction. Sorry Bjorn!
The good news is, I always wanted the stories to be under my name anyway - I never should have used "Marker." The better news is that, while the plot is generally the same, these are the polished and honed versions. The whole story is available on Kindle Unlimited for free. I'm just trying to do Ollie proud. Bonus, you get a few illustraitions on Kindle. No matter - these chapters will never disappear from here again.
You don't need to re-read these, or re-rate, or re-comment on them if you don't want to. I'm just correcting a mistake I made by bring them back home.
Ollie’s Test
Chapter 1: Alone and Surviving
I was alone.
And anxious, in the truest sense. With a respectable amount of ‘nervous’ - plus a bit of good old-fashioned ‘terrified’ thrown in for fun. Not to mention about twenty other uncomfortable emotions I couldn’t even name. Life had been teaching me plenty of lessons lately, and this upcoming medical exam wasn’t making my world any more manageable. But, hey, it was just one more test I needed to pass.
Recently, I literally started peeing my pants at work - which, believe me, was a major freak-out moment. After my initial panic died down, the embarrassment hit. Imagine standing up from the conference room table after an hour-long meeting only to realize your pants were soaked. My mild urge to go to the bathroom had felt manageable, like something I could easily hold until after our meeting. Having an “accident” isn’t exactly normal for a nineteen-year-old trying to make a good impression on his coworkers.
I was the “kid” on my team, a first-time co-op student a little over three months into my spring and summer terms. My co-workers took great pride and delight in acting as my surrogate parents. Honestly, I needed their attention and guidance, so I welcomed it. They never once made me feel ashamed. In fact, they gave me lots of much-needed reassuring hugs. Well, careful hugs - they didn’t wanna risk getting wet as well - but hugs all the same.
Most importantly, my co-op mentor, Ted, had a good friend who was a urologist and was willing to see me right away - without me first having to get a referral from a primary care physician. Ted called in the favor himself, and when I asked why he’d go so out of his way, he warmly said, “That’s what mentors are for Sport.” Believe me, I had zero clue how any of this medical stuff worked, so I was just relieved to get help.
Not only did Ted go out of his way for me, but the urologist turned out to be one of the nicest “dad”-types I had ever met. His name was Dr. Rainer, but he insisted I call him Chris. From the moment we met, he had a calming presence about him - like nothing I said could faze him. He just sat there, listening to my story with the kind of empathy that made me forget I was talking about something so embarrassing. There was no judgment. No awkward questions. Just kindness and encouragement. And for the first time in weeks, I felt like I wasn’t completely alone in all this.
Chris agreed that a healthy, athletic kid shouldn’t be wetting his business-casual attire. After ruling out a simple bladder infection, he recommended we immediately schedule a special urology test. He warned me it was a bit “involved,” repeating words like “intimate” and “exposed” in a way that sounded less clinical and more, well… ominous. I had no idea what it really meant, but I guess I was about to find out. Because…
… Here I was in a strip mall parking lot in Rockwall on a Thursday evening, staring at a row of medical “storefronts.” Wait… Were those even the correct terms? I mean, this wasn’t a mall, and those businesses definitely weren’t stores - just a line of foreboding entrances that seemed to get gloomier the longer I contemplated them. Naturally, the urology clinic I was destined for turned out to be the most forlorn of them all. Perfect.
I worked on the other side of this huge, sprawling metroplex, a good ninety-minute drive away, even without traffic. My appointment was tomorrow at eight in the morning - on a Friday no less. There was no way I could make it here on time, especially with rain in the forecast.
I wasn’t usually a Type A perfectionist, except when it came to being punctual. Even the thought of showing up late tightened my chest like a vice. Considering stress was a big part of my problem - according to Dr. Rainer - it seemed counterproductive to let it spiral out of control. So yeah… I was about to spend the night in my bright blue Bronco in a nearby parking lot to guarantee I showed up on time because that wasn’t stressful at all.
After I memorized the clinic’s location, I left to find a cozy, well-lit sleeping spot in the nearest mega-Walmart parking lot. Texas didn’t seem to have a shortage of those. Please believe me, I was grateful. I’ve learned the hard way about choosing the wrong place to park in for the night.
****
Against all odds, I actually slept through the whole night. No one tapped on my windows, no threatening shadows loomed over my sleeping form, and I woke up safe and sound. I’d parked between three RVs, like a circle of sleepy guardians; just happy families taking a break from the interstate. The night was quiet, uneventful, and precisely what I needed.
Unfortunately, while Walmart restrooms were awesome, their employees tended to get suspicious when you started brushing your teeth and changing clothes in them. I got it - they had to draw the line somewhere, and while I totally appreciated their parking-lot hospitality, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.
This morning, my pits were a little, well, aromatic. I was completely out of deodorant. Truth be told, I kinda liked my smell. It reminded me of when I was a kid and my father would come home from work. He’d scoop me up into a big hug, and I’d bury my face in his chest near his pit. I can’t quite express it, but he was like the scent of comfort, safety, and love. Things I desperately longed for right now.
Anyway, enough reminiscing. I didn’t know much about this test. Just what I’d already said: it was going to be intimate. And that I’d be, er, exposed. So, I needed to freshen up as much as possible. Lucky for me, there was a Buc-ee’s right across the interstate. Truck-stop restrooms were perfect for folks starting their morning routines on the road - nobody even bats an eye.
I topped off my tank to justify using their facilities, grabbed my fresh shirt on its hanger, and headed in. No one even gave me a second glance. After brushing my teeth and wetting my hair - which didn’t help much with my curls, but hey, I didn’t want to look homeless. I washed my face, then ducked into an open stall with a few damp paper towels to wipe down my pits, crotch, and butt crack.
When I exited and returned to my Bronco with my fresh shirt and undies on, I was as prepared as I could get. As long as I didn’t start sweating, I was golden. Well, maybe just bronze, but I’d take it.
Chapter 2: Go Time
Go Time was here. It was 7:50, “The Test” was in ten minutes, and I had to admit, I was just stalling here in my Bronco outside the medical storefronts, watching patients shuffle in. I feared I was finally beginning to look a little creepy, so I stepped out - took a deep breath - and pushed myself through the door. Hey! Inside, it was surprisingly normal, and not nearly as scary or sketchy as it looked from the parking lot. It was just a standard waiting room with a reception desk behind an obviously improvised COVID window.
Except every other guy in here was ancient. I understood that thirty, or even forty, was still pretty young. But, these men were in their seventies or eighties - maybe some were only in their fifties or sixties - but all were clearly uncomfortable, if not in outright pain. I felt a pang of guilt: I needed to just forget my stupid fears; I mean, why was I even here? They were the ones who genuinely needed help.
Almost like an epiphany, I was hit by the urge to slip back out, climb back into my Bronco, and quickly drive away. Until the desk lady noticed my trepidation and honed right in: “Baby, it’s okay.” Yes, she actually said Baby as she motioned me over. I caved. I didn’t cry, but it was a close thing. Instead, I accepted her estimation, took a shaky breath, and walked over to her window.
“Hi, I’m Ollie. Er, Oliver, ah Oliver Carson. I’m here for a procedure, I mean test, at eight.” I blurted out a final, “I’m sorry.” Lurd, why did I say I was I sorry? But I swear I was. Just shoot me.
Thankfully, she kindly gave me the sweetest smile - no laughter, just pure comfort. She had no idea how much I needed that, but then again, I probably made it all too clear exactly how much I did.
She confirmed my appointment and informed me that my absolutely incredible, amazing, godsend insurance plan had taken care of everything except for $25. I’d lost the coverage I had from my parents, but being a co-op student had its benefits. So, thank you, big Government Contractor Company for gifting me those lost benefits. I never expected I’d have to use them, but you never know how much something means until you need it.
After a few more clicks on her keyboard, she gave me a final warm smile. “Everything looks good. I see you’ve already filled out all your new patient forms online - thank you; that makes my job so much easier. Just have a seat, baby boy, and Corey will call you back as soon as we’re ready.”
Baby boy? Dang it. I’m not blushing - you are. I mumbled a quick “Thanks” and searched for a chair as far away from all the “serious” patients as I could find.
Wait - did she say “Corey” or maybe “Cora?” No… definitely Corey. Oh frak. I’d somehow made my mind up that the person doing my test would be some sweet elderly lady. Could “Corey” be an old lady’s name? Names can go both ways, right? Pat, Riley, Tony, Dana...
Please, please, please don’t let “Corey” be a he.
And absolutely do not let “Corey” be cute.
I squirmed in my chair, trying not to sweat too much. Unfortunately, that was my family’s superpower: my father always joked that we’re “big, blond furry sweaters.” I wasn’t sure I was big exactly, but dang, did we ever sweat at the first sign of stress or hint of exercise.
I also couldn’t deny my physical resemblance to my father. We both had soft, loose blond curls, though mine might be a shade lighter. My calves, thighs, and tummy also sported a decent amount of blond fur, and I assumed he had a comparably furry butt crack, though that definitely wasn’t something I’d ever seen since puberty. And I was hoping that my new little center patch of blond chest hair would eventually take over my pecs - pit to pit, and neck to nipples - just like his had done.
Then there was my scruffy blond beard. My father called it my “baby-beard.” He constantly begged me to never shave it so he could watch it fill in as I grew up. But that was back when he still talked to me. Stop it! I couldn’t afford to think about that right now. I had made it here on my own, and I was fine. At least until…
A man I assumed had to be Corey stepped out from a doorway and called my name. Frak. I was so totally frakked. Oh my lurd. (I said “lurd” and “frak” because they were made-up words and my family was very religious. Even after everything, I still tried to respect that). But honestly, this Corey person was my frakkin’ perfect man. I stood up, and he offered me his hand - politely ignoring my uncontrolled, hero-worshipping, deer-in-the-headlights gawk. After an eternity, I finally realized that I should probably maybe shake it in return, and that’s when I noticed that he was even taller than my own 6'3” stature.
Dangit! I was just trying to get through all this with minimal embarrassment. So, of course, Corey had to be a 6'5” tower of muscle - basically my kryptonite. Guessing ages wasn’t my strong suit, but I was thinking he’s maybe about thirty (the age that absolutely did me in). He had a slightly rugged but absolutely beautiful face with a sweet, still boy-like smile. Most importantly - right now, anyway - he had the kindest sky-blue eyes I’d ever seen. Which was good because I needed all the reassurance I could get.
He could practically be my father’s hot younger brother. Same dark-blond hair - only straight - a full beard, and, if that bit of chest fur poking out of his scrubs was any indication, he was rocking my father’s furry chest gene. I was doomed.
So here I stood, facing the single most stunningly gorgeous man I could imagine, who just emerged from “the door” to escort me into “the room” to administer “the test.” Again, as I had been warned, it was pretty much the most intimate test ever. Why do doctors say “intimate” like it’s some polite euphemism? Why not call it what it is: embarrassing and, most likely, humiliating?
Chapter 3: An Intimate Introduction
I finally realized I’d just been standing there, awkwardly anchored in place. Corey graciously broke the spell by saying, “You’re a good-looking young man, and I’m sure your body is something to be proud of. But I think you’d be more comfortable getting undressed - if we headed to our room.” Then he gave me the sweetest, most inviting smile - enough to unfreeze my legs. As we walked back through the door, he politely added, “I’m Corey, your nurse.”
“Hi, I’m Ollie,” I said, walking beside him down a not-very-welcoming hallway.
Corey glanced over. “I kind of figured that when you stood up after I called ‘Oliver.’” He flashed a mischievous grin and patted my shoulder. “But it’s nice to know you go by ‘Ollie.’ We’re going to that last room on the right.”
I blushed - or maybe went pale; I couldn’t be sure - and dropped my gaze. “Yeah, sorry,” I mumbled. “I guess I’m just… nervous.”
He only smiled, sliding his hand down my shoulder to the small of my back, gently guiding me into a room that was bigger than I’d expected. “Here’s our home for the next 90 minutes, Ollie. So, take a deep breath and relax.”
Relax? In this room? Sure!
First off, on the left wall, there was The Chair, or more precisely, the Chair-Table of Bizarre Medical Experiments, currently configured in a very upright position, complete with split padded leg rests and restraints. Adding to its ambiance of wrongness, there was a funnel hanging from it on a nylon cord, with a hose attached leading down into a plastic container that looked kinda like an old-fashioned plastic milk carton, except it had measurement lines on its side.
The wall opposite the chair-table had a large sink on its right, bristling with enough disturbing, vaguely-medical-looking equipment to make me glance away fast. And a collection of things no man should have to see on the left. I mean, I thought I knew what a catheter looked like or what I imagined them to look like. But why were there like 20 of them just hanging there on the wall and how can they be so long? And what were those things next to them that looked like - Lurd! - dildos on a cord?
Not to be outdone, the far wall had its horrors as well. There was a stationary flat exam table. That was perfectly fine, but why was there a toilet? And why was it just plopped right there, right out in the open without anything to protect a user’s modesty? This time, I know I paled; I even got a little nauseated. I really should have eaten something last night or this morning.
Corey quickly picked up on my color drain and eased me into a normal-looking chair by the door. I hadn’t even noticed it during my panicked survey of the room. Grateful for his kindness, I sat down and tried not to let any tears leave my eyes.
“Hey, Ollie. It’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “I’m here to help you. Think of me as your best friend - or big brother - for the next 90 minutes. I promise I’ll guide you through everything, and we’ll be fine. Okay?”
All I could do was nod, not trusting my voice at the moment.
Corey rubbed between my shoulders and gave me a second questioning “Okay?” Then he gently placed his warm hand on the top of my head before sliding it down to cup my almost furry cheek, making me raise my eyes to meet his reassuring gaze.
“Okay,” I managed, trying to sound like I believed it - as I looked into his eyes, maybe, just maybe, I kinda did.
“Let’s start with the basics,” he said reassuringly. “What did your urologist tell you about a urodynamic flow study?”
“Well, he mostly just stressed that it’s very… intimate. He explained that I’d have to pee while I’m hooked up to some monitors that measure how well my bladder and pelvic muscles work together. And he warned me I’d be pretty exposed.”
Corey gave a soft chuckle. “Well… That’s a very high-level, detail-free way of putting it. But don’t worry - like I said, I’ve got you. Before I get into all the gory details of the actual procedure, can you tell me what happened that made your doctor send you here?”
I broke eye contact and looked down at the floor again. “About a month ago, I accidentally got into a fight with a couple of strangers. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. They managed to land some solid hits to my abdomen and kidney areas before I convinced them I wasn’t giving up easily.”
I sighed, deciding to just lay it all out. “After that, my bathroom habits changed. I started needing to go a lot more often, but it was like I’d barely dribble a little each time I went. I blew it off. Until one day at work, I looked down after a long meeting and discovered that I’d wet my pants. My coworkers decided that was enough and helped me find you.”
I looked back up, unsure what I’d find in Corey’s expression. Instead of judgment, I saw genuine concern. “I’m sorry, Ollie,” he said caringly. “That’s awful. Are your parents close enough to help you through all this?”
I hadn’t braced for a question like that; my usual defenses faltered, and a single tear escaped before I could stop it. “No, they’re in Michigan. Listen… I’m sorry. I swear I was going to tell you this before we started anyway. I’m, um… I’m gay. And I figured that getting my first real job and moving away from home to a new city was the perfect time to come out to them. They disagreed - big time. My father let me keep my clothes, my Bronco, and my phone - while I’m away from school. But otherwise, I’m on my own. They never want to see me again and they won’t answer my calls. So no, they’re not close, and I guess they don’t care what happened.”
Corey’s face fell, burdened with grief-stricken sympathy. “First off, we’ll talk about your parents - and about you being away from school - later. But, Ollie, there’s nothing you need to apologize for. Not about this test, not about anything. You’re okay; I’m here for you.”
He paused, letting his reassurance sink in, then added, “Also, on a lighter note, you didn’t need to tell me you’re gay.” His eyes gleamed mischievously. “I pretty instantly picked up on that back in the waiting room. Has anyone told you that you have a terrible poker face?” He sent me a quick grin. “But for the record, I was flattered.” He gave me a slight nod of appreciation - as a friendly joke - I was sure.
I was relieved by his honesty but wasn’t entirely comfortable with him just yet. I needed to state my concerns clearly. “Well, the problem is, I tend to get… um, well, I usually can’t contain my excitement, even during normal medical exams. My pediatrician would simply brush it off - because it happened every time I saw him, and he just got used to it - but I was always mortified. Now, with Dr. Rainer telling me how intimate this test is, I thought I should warn you in case I, you know, embarrass myself… and then you found out I was gay.”
Corey let out an easy laugh. “You’ve gotta let some of your anxiety go, buddy,” he said, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Nothing that’s about to happen will upset me, and it shouldn’t upset you either. Think of it like this: I’m effectively going to be in control of your body, like when a doctor taps your knee with that little rubber hammer. If your knee doesn’t jerk, we know something’s wrong. If you don’t express what you politely call your ‘excitement’ during certain parts of this test, I’ll be worried.”
Pausing again, he looked into my eyes, making sure his reassurances were getting through to me. “And finally, Ollie, I’m a nurse. I have a penis, and I see a lot of other guys’ penises too. I know how they work - and what they do when you least expect or want it. We nurses are used to it. Our main concern is making sure you feel okay about it.”
Then I noticed a bright glint in his eye, and he casually added, “Oh, and I’m gay too.”
I suddenly I had a very nonplussed look on my face.
“Ha! I love it,” Corey teased. “Look at that face. You really do need to be more open about showing your emotions.” He chuckled. “What? Did you think you were the only big, beefy, bearded - well, almost bearded for you - guy who’s gay?” And there it was again, that half-smile-smirk telling me he wasn’t laughing at me. Instead, I believe he’s working really hard to connect with me.
I blushed, trying - and failing - not to show how much I was instantly crushing on him. He winked. “Look, I know I just gave you the ‘I’m a medical professional’ speech, but you deserve a little unprofessionalism.” He tugged me up from the chair and wrapped me in a big ol’ bear hug.
Wow. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed that. I let myself sink into his arms, nuzzling against his chest, as a couple more tears slipped free - tears of relief I didn’t even know I’d been holding back.
Chapter 4: Are You Kidding Me
I quickly realized that Corey’s scent reminded me of my father’s love and safety and I had to leave his comforting embrace maybe a little too quickly. Hopefully he just thought it was time to end our hug. Lurd though! I could have stayed wrapped in his arms for the whole ninety minutes. As I stepped away, Corey crossed to the door, shutting it with a soft click. Once again, Go Time was here.
“Okay Ollie, just a few quick basic questions, then we’ll get to the fun stuff,” he said, turning back to me. “You’re nineteen, right?”
“Yes. But I’ll be twenty in a little over three months.”
“Got it. And you’re six-foot-three and weigh around one-seventy-five?”
“Yeah, I’m trying hard to bulk up a bit more though.”
Corey seemed to appraise my build before he continued, “Any allergies to latex or rubber?”
“Um… Not that I know of?”
“Perfect! Now before you undress, let me give you the plan.” He gave me a playful wink, “You know, all those gory details your urologist accidently left out.” I barely saw a cute little smirk before he realized he must have forgotten something, “Oh, wait! You remembered to show up with a full bladder and didn’t drink anything with caffeine yesterday or this morning, right?”
“Yes, sir!”
He let out a short laugh. “Wow, a genuine ‘Yes, sir.’ Your father’s a fool for pushing you away.” Then he caught himself, shrugging apologetically. “Sorry, we can talk about all that later. For your first task: I’ll need you to pee into that funnel and empty your bladder as much as you can. Are you pee-shy at all?”
I felt comfortable enough that I grinned and replied, “I was on the football team all through high school. You learn how to pee with the whole team by your side. I’m good.”
“Great!” Corey returned my smile, “then I’ll just stay here in the room with you. After that, you’ll need to get undressed. And I recommend completely. It’s just me in here and believe me, I’m going to see everything you’ve got anyway. This test involves a lot of peeing and let’s just say it doesn’t always go where you expect it to - better safe and dry than sorry.”
Corey once again immediately noticed my moderately shocked reaction, but continued.
“So, Ollie my man, please don’t freak out about the next part. It’s hopefully where you first show some ‘excitement.’” He gave me a playful grin, “I’m going to get you up on that far table and give you a very ‘intimate’ rectal and prostate exam. I’ll explain why as we go.”
He chuckled when he noticed my cheeks reddening. “Hey, there it is! That’s what I want to see! Too much blood in your cheeks is way better than not enough. No more going pale and making me worry you might pass out.”
I saw a playful smirk, “There may be a couple of surprise steps after that. Hey, I gotta keep some mystery in our morning, right?” Another wink. “But no matter what, the next task is likely to be the least exciting part. I’ll do an ‘in-and-out’ catheter to see how much urine is still left in your bladder after you pee.”
Then he pointed to the wall left of the sink. “After that, the next likely exciting step involves those things you see hanging there beside the regular catheters. They’re anal catheter-probe sensors. I’ll be inserting one into your rectum, placing it so that it gently nuzzles against your prostate. I’ll also have to put two ECG-style electrodes on either side of your anus and tape it all up to keep everything in place”
Dumbfounded, I could only stare at him, wearing my best You’re kidding, right? expression. If Corey noticed, he didn’t seem surprised - as if he’d given this exact speech a hundred times before and I was just following his well-rehearsed script.
“Hey, it’s okay - just keep those cheeks nice and red.” Corey grinned. “The electrodes won’t send any current into your body, they just measure how and when your anal muscles move.”
“After that, we jump right back to another boner-killer: I’ll insert a thinner, but stiffer, catheter into your bladder again, and this time we’ll slowly fill it with saline. I have to tape it in place as well. We’ll have plenty of time to talk then, and I’m really looking forward to that. I already think you’re an amazing guy, so I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
He shot me another reassuring smile. “Finally, you’ll try to empty your bladder once more - as much as you can. And when you’re done, I’ll probably need to do one final in-and-out cath to make sure you leave here with an empty tank. Oh, and there’s a little bonus surprise at the end if I think it’s warranted - just one more mystery to keep you interested.”
Corey paused once again to give me a mock-serious look. “Now, I’m about to ask you the dumbest thing that I’m required to utter: Do you have any questions or concerns?”
I blinked, trying to piece together everything he’d just said. “Um, well, I can see why my urologist was so vague. D’you think he’ll press charges if I punch him during my follow-up appointment?”
I got a genuine laugh from my big, beautiful, um, nurse god? Wait, no! Norse God! Lurd. Focus Ollie.
“Seriously, sir,” I added, “I’m trying to remember anything you said after ‘prostate exam’ and ‘In & Out Burger.’ Please tell me this isn’t a closed-book test.”
Corey chuckled again. “Nope, all open-book - and I’m honored to be your cheat sheet. Now…” He gestured toward my clothes. “… let’s get you out of those.”
To Be Continued...
