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BECOMING A MODEL PATIENT

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This is a fictional story on how I became a model and sex object working at a medical University and the situations I encountered on the way.

CHAPTER 1 – INTRODUCTION & FIRST MEDICAL

My story starts approximately 20 years from now in the UK, when following decisions made by successive governments the NHS as we know and love is all but dead and forgotten. The only medical treatment available is either personally financed or through corporate insurance. If you are in employment or wealthy then the treatment received is excellent but for the common person (like me) it is virtually non-existent. One side effect of these changes was that the medical industry was wealthy and attracted a great many students wanting to get foothold on the career ladder and so Universities were expanding rapidly to cash in on the available money and cope with the demands placed on them.

Fortunately for me, although I am now thirty years old, I have always been healthy. So until now I have never had to seek the services of the medical profession. Since leaving school with good qualifications I have been continuously employed and enjoyed the style of living that comes with good wages, for example my own home, regular holidays abroad, my own home, nice clothes, gym membership & a personal trainer to keep me as young and fit as possible (holding back the years I guess you might say). However that abruptly came to an end six months ago when my employer made me redundant. I was left with only just enough money to keep the roof over my head and food on the table but no medical cover which I found disconcerting.

So began my long search for a new job, and I’m elated to say that with this morning’s post came an offer of a post from a rival of my former employer (ironic eh?). I am so happy, I almost overlooked the fact that the job is subject to references (no problem there) and a mandatory medical (should be okay, not aware of any problems).

Well, here I go, off to my new job, washed and brushed and looking damned smart I don’t mind saying. It’s been a long time since I had worn a business suit and I felt good! Into the main lobby I confidently strode and handed my temporary security pass to the guard standing in the main foyer. He glanced at it and waived me to the chic looking receptionist by the main lift. She was at least more welcoming and explained that I was expected and an appointment had been made for me to see the company medical officer and that I should proceed directly to his office on the fourteenth floor. Pleasantly surprised by the organisation displayed so far I felt that I had made the right choice by accepting this new job although it wasn’t as well paid as my previous one, but then beggars can’t be choosers.

Arriving on the fourteenth floor, I turned left and walked along the corridor, casually looking in through open doors into plushly decorated meeting rooms but otherwise empty of staff. Shortly I arrived at the door I was seeking; it had the name ‘Dr. Baxter-Hendrick’ on it. I knocked on the door to be greeted with a gruff “Come in please”.

The voice belonged to a regular looking man, mid-fifties, average build and height, brown hair and blue eyes which twinkled with humour. 

“Ah, you must be Joseph Ashram. Please close the door, take a seat and make yourself comfortable. According to my notes you start today with this company, subject to this medical, which I am sure, looking at you will not be a problem.”

I smiled and said “I hope so as I need all the money I can get!”, to which he laughed.

He was calm and confident as he explained what the medical would consist of, first the standard question and answer section, then secondly the physical examination before writing up the report. The questions were of no great concern i.e. previous medical history, family medical history, next of kin, exercise regimes, hobbies etc. Each answer I gave him he faithfully noted down before looking me in the eye and asking the next question. Finally he put his pen down and said that we were now ready for the physical examination, which I must admit, I was slightly nervous about.

He asked me to remove my clothing keeping only my boxer shorts on and to sit on the couch. I did so and as I stripped I neatly folded my clothes neatly on my chair before sitting on the couch as instructed. My blood pressure, pulse, breathing and reflexes were measured and found to be perfectly normal. As the doctor wrote the readings down he absentmindedly asked me to remove my boxer shorts and stand by the couch. I choked and asked him why. Frowning he said that there were still more tests to be carried out which required me to be naked, without which he could not complete the medical.

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