Getting Treatment From Kat

Getting Treatment From Kat

When I was in school, I spent a lot of time playing sports, and a lot of time thinking about girls. The intersection of these two activities, for me and for a lot of other guys at my school, was the athletic department trainer, Kat. All the other faculty, even the secretaries and custodians, we called "Mr. Smith" or "Mrs. Jones," but everyone always called the trainer by her first name, Kat. The whole student body loved her; her office was often filled with kids who were there just to hang out. The girls would go see her to gossip, like she was their older sister. The boys, too, would make every excuse to hang out in her office, but for a different reason.

Kat was probably in her early thirties (although we were never really sure), and she was absolutely gorgeous. All the boys at school were obsessed with her. Our infatuation was only compounded by the fact that she was incredibly nice to us. We all had a crush on her. I was certainly no exception. I spent plenty of time in Kat's office just hanging out, and I also saw her all the time for legitimate medical treatment-- little scrapes and bruises, tight hamstrings, things like that. But there was one experience I had with Kat that stands out from all the others, and I still think about it all the time.

I was on the lacrosse team, and we had an afternoon game. We were all supposed to wear a cup underneath our thin athletic shorts, but I found it uncomfortable, especially while running, so I secretly never wore one. It had never been an issue before. But on this day, I had been in the game for about ten minutes when I found myself guarding a very tall player on the other team. He was a few feet in front of me and he reared back to shoot. But he held onto the ball too long, and instead of flying forward through the air, it rocketed straight into the ground, rebounded, and then crashed with terrifying speed directly into my completely unprotected ballsack.

I immediately collapsed onto my knees and bent over with my face on the ground, clutching my balls. I could never have even imagined being in that much pain. I had gotten hit in the balls before, mostly from being sack tapped by my friends, and I thought that hurt a lot. But compared to what I was feeling now, getting sack tapped hardly even registered. More often than not, when a guy gets hit in the balls during a sports game, he tries to pretend it was some other kind of injury to save face. But it would have been absolutely futile trying to pretend anything else had happened here; it was all too obvious. I couldn't get up or move at all for ten minutes, and the whole game had to stop while the coaches, referees, and various players from both teams awkwardly stood around me, totally unable to do a thing other than wait for me to get out of the way. When I was finally able to stand up, rising shakily to my feet, the entire crowd-- about 150 people-- clapped, which I found extremely embarrassing. I get that clapping after a player stands up from an injury is customary, but in this instance it only hammered home how all these people had just watched me get absolutely racked in the most vulnerable and private place I had, and now they were clapping about it. As I was slowly hobbling towards the sideline, I saw some girls-- the girlfriends of some of the player from the other team, I think-- out of the corner of my eye who were trying, and failing, not to giggle. I was still in a tremendous amount of pain. The coach told one of my teammates to bring me to Kat's office.

When we got near to her door, I told the other guy I was all right on my own. I was pretty embarrassed, and I had no idea what Kat was going to say, but I didn't want anyone else around for whatever it was.

I walked gingerly into the office. "Hey Colin," Kat called out brightly. Even in my fairly incapacitated state I couldn't help but become preoccupied with how hot she was. "Don't you guys have a game right now?"

"Yeah, I got injured," I told her.

"Oh no," she said in the same cheerful tone with which she had greeted me. "What happened? Sprained ankle? Pulled a muscle?"

"Uh, no," I muttered, feeling very embarrassed. "I, uh, I got hit in the testicles."

"Oh, okay," she said, both her expression and her tone becoming slightly more serious. "Well let's make sure you're okay. Is there any bruising around your pelvis where your cup pressed into your body?"

"Oh. Well, uh," I stammered, "I, um, I wasn't wearing a cup."

A surprised expression came over Kat's face. "Oh dear," she said, getting up to find some paper and beginning to take notes. "Okay. I see. All right, I'm going to ask you a few questions so I have an understanding of the situation. What did you get hit with? Another player's stick?"

"Uh, no," I said. "The ball."

"Ouch," she said, a little absentmindedly as she steadily took notes. "Was it on the fly, or did it bounce?"

"Bounced," I said. "Once."

"Was the impact on one testicle more than the other?" she asked without looking up from her notes. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable with how intimately I was talking to Kat about my, well, private parts.

"No, it hit them both pretty much dead on."

"Where was the impact specifically?" she asked, looking up at me as she spoke. "The top part, underneath the penis? Or the front ends of the testicles that are exposed via the forward-facing part of the scrotum? Or on the bottom, where they become flat?"

"Uh, well the ball came up from underneath me, so I guess it hit the bottom part?"

She pushed her whole mouth over to one side of her face and nodded. "That's too bad for you," she said. "That's the most sensitive part. It's not any more likely to lead to damage, but it hurts a lot more."

I just stood there, not knowing what to say.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked.

"Uh, I mean, not as bad as I did twenty minutes ago, but, yeah; it still hurts."

"Okay Colin, well why don't you close the door and I'll have a look at you," she said, swinging around on her wheeled stool to shuffle some paper on her desk.

Immediately I became very nervous. It hadn't occurred to me that Kat was going to "have a look at me." Obviously, part of me was thrilled; this was basically a long-time fantasy of mine that turned me on more than almost anything else. But it was also nerve-wracking. I was afraid I'd get a boner, but I was also afraid I'd be so nervous that my dick would shrink and look really small. I really just wanted my dick to not change size.

I closed the office door and turned back around to look at her, my heart pounding in my chest. "Come stand in front of me," she said, patting her knees for emphasis.

I went over to where she was sitting on the stool and stood before her, her head coming up to a little above my belly button. She reached out her hands, hooked her thumbs into the waistbands of both my lacrosse shorts and my boxers, and slowly lowered both down below my knees. There I was, standing about a foot away from Kat, naked from the waste down. It was a surreal sensation as I felt the open air on my genitals while someone else was in the room; and that someone wasn't just any random person, it was the woman who I had the hots for pretty much above all others.

At first she didn't touch me at all, she just looked, swiveling on her stool and moving her head to view me from all possible angles, repeatedly leaning in to see closely, her face outrageously close to my cock and balls. I thought I was going to pass out from how fast my blood was rushing through my veins.

"They're slightly swollen, but it isn't actually that bad," she said, leaning over and taking more notes. She put her clipboard down and swiveled her stool back towards me.

"Okay Colin, I'm going to feel around to make sure there isn't anything to be concerned about," she said. My heart skipped a beat. "Could you lift your shirt up for me and hold it there, so that it won't be in the way?"

I lifted my shirt up, holding it just below my chest, exposing my firm stomach. Now Kat was seeing nearly my entire naked body.

She reached out and touched my balls. Her fingers were smooth and cool on my skin, and I felt a bolt of electricity run through my body as soon as she made contact. At first she was holding my balls with just her fingers, making small stroking gestures up and down my sack, as if to determine their texture. Then she brought her hand further up and let me balls fall into her palm, bouncing them slightly as if she was weighing them. Then she went back to using her fingers, moving them around and feeling different parts of my babymakers.

"I'm going to apply a bit of pressure," she said. "Let me know if this hurts."

She held my balls between her thumb and two forefingers and pressed them together, applying a medium amount of force. "Ow!" I said. "Yes." But she didn't stop, she kept squeezing for another ten or fifteen seconds.

"Does the pain get worse as I keep going, or does it stay the same?" She asked.

"Um, I guess it's basically the same," I said through slightly barred teeth. She kept pressing my balls together for another twenty seconds or so, and then let them go to make some notes on her clipboard. She was silent for a while as she wrote, and I was feeling a crazy mix of emotions: extremely excited, fairly turned on, but also nervous and quite uncomfortable. I was still holding my shirt above my stomach, not being in much of a headspace to do anything without being explicitly told to, and I was intensely aware of how on display my naked body was.

"All right Colin," she said, turning to face me, giving a quick glance down at my package before looking up into my face. "It seems that more likely than not, everything down there is fine, but unfortunately I'm going to have to perform some stress tests to make absolutely sure."

"What does that mean?" I asked, not understanding.

"Well, I'm going to conduct a series of impacts on the affected area, so that I can observe your reactions and determine how your body responds," she said, speaking very straightforwardly with a professional tone in her voice. "It's a standard procedural option for certain injuries of this kind. Like I said, I think you are most likely fine, but I can't let you leave here without making absolutely sure; it wouldn't be responsible."

My brain was slow to process what she was saying. "You mean you're... you're going to hit my balls?"

She gave me a reassuring smile. "I know any guy would be a little nervous, but the whole thing will only last ten minutes or so. I'm sure it's not the worst thing you've ever had to do at a doctor's appointment, right?"

In my head I was thinking, 'it absolutely is, by far,' but I was so overwhelmed by what was happening and by being naked in front of Kat that I wasn't really thinking straight. I sheepishly agreed with her.

She moved her stool a little closer to where I was standing. "I'm just going to hold you out of the way here," she said casually, while reaching out to grasp my penis and hold it up against the bottom of my stomach. I gasped, completely unprepared for her to touch my dick, and another wave of liquid electricity shot through my veins. Her thumb-- unintentionally, I can only imagine-- was rubbing against that most sensitive spot, on the underside of my cock about half an inch below the head, and despite my nervousness it was just absolutely unavoidable that I would start to get hard. It didn't become a full-on erection, but my dick noticeably, undeniably got bigger, which made me feel tremendously embarrassed. Kat just looked up at me with the same reassuring smile.

"Okay, I'm going to start with a fairly light impact to establish a null baseline," she said. She brought her other hand down underneath my sack, hovering around the height of my knees, and quickly brought it up into my balls, hitting them with just her fingers. "Ah!" I cried out sharply. The hit made a light slapping sound and stung on impact, but the pain only lasted for about twenty seconds.

"Hopefully that one should not have been especially painful, particularly compared to the impact from the lacrosse ball," she said, looking up at me for my reaction.

"Well, yeah," I said, shifting nervously with a slight grimace on my face. "That hurt, but compared to the lacrosse ball it was nothing."

"Excellent," Kat said. "That's a good starting point." With no warning at all she flung her hand back up into my balls a second time, at least twice as hard as the first, striking them with her palm instead of her fingers. "Ohh!" I cried out in complete surprise, doubling over at the waste, reaching out a hand to support myself on the back of a chair so that I wouldn't fall over. This one hurt a lot; probably worse than the most painful sack tap I had ever gotten. Kat took her hand off my penis as I bent over.

"Sorry Colin; I needed one where your body wasn't able to prepare itself beforehand," Kat said, swiveling over to get something off her desk. "Here, let me feel your pulse." She took my wrist in her hand as I remained slumped over in front of her. "Good," she said, marking down my pulse on her notes. "So far everything is turning out the way we want. You're doing great," she comforted me, rubbing my back as I hunched in front of her, her hand on my bare skin unbelievably soft and smooth.

After another minute or two I was able to stand back up. "You good?" she asked. I nodded. The pain had faded to a dull ache. "Okay, let's try this one," she said matter-of-factly. She picked up a mallet-like object she had taken off her desk, a handle with a hard rubber ball at the end, a little bigger than a golf ball.

"Can you stand with your legs together?" she asked. I straightened my legs. She reached out and pulled my balls forward to make sure they weren't caught between my legs, then let them fall back into place. She took hold of my penis again to keep it out of the way. Then she lined up the mallet, pulled it back, and swung it forward so that it smashed into the front of my ballsack, connecting with the end point of both my balls.

I gasped, and my whole body went slack almost involuntarily. The impact had been devastating, but I quickly realized that it didn't hurt all that badly, in the scheme of things. The first couple seconds were unbearable, but then it quickly receded into a low-level pain. I stood back up.

"You good?" Kat asked.

"Yeah," I said, nodding.

"Great. That's the reaction we're looking for on that one. There's a reflex point on that part of the testicle, sort of like the one on the knee. When everything is functioning well, we'd expect a response just like that."

I wasn't sure what to say. I was feeling so embarrassed-- the truth is I would have been embarrassed just for Kat to know that I got my nuts rocked in a lacrosse game, but now we were unimaginably far beyond that point.

"Okay Colin," Kat said, reading something on her clipboard and then looking up at me with a slight smile. "I'm going to let you know in advance that this next one should be very painful; if isn't, that could potentially be cause for concern."

"Oh. Okay," I said nervously. I was very scared to hear that, but I didn't really have much choice in the matter.

"I know you're probably not loving this," Kat said with a chuckle, "but we've got to be thorough in evaluating you." I nodded sheepishly. "Can you come a little closer?" she asked. I had inadvertently been inching away from her as I recovered from each hit. I shuffled back over to where she was sitting, standing with my package nearly right in her face. She put her hands on my hips and gently gave them a slight turn so that I was aligned more directly with how she was sitting.

"For this one, I'm just going to hold you in place here," she said, reaching out with her left hand and grasping my balls; she gently pushed them down to the bottom of my sack so that there was nowhere for them to escape to. With her right hand, she reached up and with two fingers lightly stroked the bottoms of both my balls, as if she was looking for something.

"Okay, here we go," she said. She bunched up the first two fingers on her right hand so that the knuckles protruded sharply, then punched hard into my trapped balls from underneath, so that her two knuckles rammed into my left and right testicle, respectively.

"Ow! Fuck!" I yelled. It was a completely different kind of pain from getting hit by the lacrosse ball, but somehow it seemed to hurt nearly as much, even though it was such a small amount of force in comparison. I doubled over and then quickly sank onto my knees, unable to stand. "Oww, fuck; my God," I moaned.

"Does it hurt really badly?" Kat asked, with professional inquisitiveness.

"Yes," I barely managed to squeak out.

"Good," Kat said. "It would be concerning if it didn't. That one is very precisely targeted to the bottoms of your balls, which as I was saying before are the most sensitive parts. With everything working correctly, I should be able to elicit a large automatic nervous system response with a relatively small impact, so it's a great sign that you felt that so strongly."

I didn't say anything in response, as I didn't know what there was for me to say, and I likely wouldn't have been able to say it anyway.

"Let's take a few minutes," Kat said. "We've only got one more and then you're all done. You've been doing great so far." She then struck up a pretty normal conversation, asking me about the lacrosse team and some other sports I played in different seasons. It was incredibly hard to hold a conversation while on my knees in horrible pain, and it struck me as kind of insensitive that she would expect me to have a casual conversation in my current state, but because it was Kat, I tried as hard as I could do power through and be friendly and charming.

"Okay, let's get through this last one so you can be on your way," Kat said after a couple minutes. "Unfortunately, it will probably hurt pretty bad. But then you'll be all done!"

"Okay," I said with a grimace, not having any other option.

"So to be absolutely certain that there is nothing to be concerned about, I'm going to have to recreate an impact with the same amount of force as the original hit," she explained.

"Oh God," I said, becoming physically scared. The treatment my balls had been getting from Kat had been awful, but it still didn't stop me from thinking back to that lacrosse ball in the sack with absolute horror. That was a feeling I was hoping to never experience again for the rest of my life, and here I was barely half an hour later, essentially having Kat tell me I was about to feel it all over again.

"I know-- it's not gonna feel great for you, but a after this you're done!" Kat tried to reassure me. "So let's not dilly-dally here. I'm not going to be able to create an impact on that scale with my bare hands, so we'll have to improvise..." she said, the sentence trailing off as she went into a supply closet adjoining her office. She came out holding one of the rakes they use for the baseball field. "I think this will work," she said.

"Let's see, how can we do this?" She wondered aloud, looking around the office. "Okay, can you come over here?" She said, gesturing to the other side of her office where there was a pull-up bar hanging from the ceiling. "Can you try holding onto the bar?" she asked me.

I reached up and grabbed the bar. I was just barely tall enough to hold onto it while standing; it raised me onto my toes just the slightest bit.

"Perfect," Kat said, eyeing me up and down. "Here, let me help you with this." With both my hands on the bar, I was no longer able to hold my shirt, so Kat came over and pulled it up for me, her hands grazing the sides of my torso as she went; her fingers incidentally brushed one of my nipples. She took one of my arms off the bar and pulled my t-shirt over it, so that the shirt only hung around my neck and down on arm. I was essentially now completely naked. Kat placed my hand back on the bar, moving me like a mannequin. My dick had shrunk somewhat out of fear, so there was no need to hold it out of the way anymore.

"So this is my idea; I think it will work," Kat said, perhaps to herself, as she lay the handle of the rake down between my legs. She put her foot down on the other end and slowly brought the handle up; as it got closer, she made slight horizontal adjustments, lining up the handle with my balls. "I want to make sure I get you," she said. She stepped down softly on the end of the rake, bringing the handle up to gently tap my balls. I jumped a little in surprise, but it only hurt a little bit. "Is that going to get them good?" she asked. "Ideally I want the handle to land exactly between the two of them."

"Yes," I murmured, nearly shaking with nervousness.

"Great. Okay Colin; I'm going to count down from five so that you're not surprised. Ready?" she asked.

I didn't say anything in response, but my response didn't really matter anyway.

Kat cleared her throat. "Okay. Five... Four... Three--"

After three she stepped down hard on the rake, causing the handle to fly up and smash into my balls. It hit both of them dead-on, just like she had wanted. I tried to gasp but couldn't make any sound come out. I immediately collapsed onto my knees, bending all the way over so that my face was on the floor, my hands desperately clutching my baby-makers. It definitely hurt at least as much as the lacrosse ball had. "Ohhh," I moaned miserably. "Ohh, fuck. Ugh. Oh my god."

Kat had picked her clipboard back up and was writing God knows what. I was an absolute wreck at her feet. "Oh my God," I groaned, my voice hoarse with tears. "Ohhh, fuck. Fuck. Ughh. Ohh."

Kat put her clipboard aside, then reached down and put her hands on my naked hips. She gently pulled me up so that my butt was raised in the air, moved my hands away, and then took hold of my balls from behind. Even the light touch of her fingers was painful.

"Ah! Ahh!" I cried out desperately.

"It's okay," Kat said soothingly. "I'm going to be very gentle." I don't think she realized that in the state I was in, even a gentle touch on my balls was painful, but I had no strength of any kind to argue with her.

She felt around on my balls much like she had when I first got to her office. "Good. Good," she said periodically in a quiet voice, occasionally making more notes on her paper. She rubbed my back as I remained face down on the floor. "Here, this should help a little bit," she said, turning me over onto my back; I groaned with the effort. I lay face-up-- my cock and balls just sitting there, on display-- and she rubbed my stomach in a circular motion. If it helped it was only a tiny little bit, but the pain was starting to recede almost enough for me to get back to simply enjoy having Kat touch me.

"You're all set, Colin," she told me, looking down into my face. "Why don't you get up and get your clothes back on?" Doing so was extremely difficult, but I had been thoroughly conditioned to do what I was told in the last half hour. As I woozily got to my feet and struggled getting my shorts back on, Kat kept her eyes on my package and talked to me in her typical friendly voice.

"Yeah, as I said, I was almost sure from the normal examination that you were fine, but I thought it would really be better to be completely certain. I feel much better knowing we were thorough about it," she told me.

"Yeah, me too," I said, overwhelmed with pain, embarrassment, and a combination of other confusing feelings.

"You've just got to take it easy for a little while," she said as I was getting my things together. "The pain should dissipate by the end of the day, and any swelling or redness should go down within a day or two."

"Okay," I said, avoiding her eyes.

"Oh, and one more thing: if you happen to masturbate later today or tomorrow-- or, you know, really any kind of sexual activity; doesn't necessarily have to be masturbation--" she said, winking at me, "and you experience any pain or discomfort while doing so, come back and let me know, okay?"

I turned bright red. "Okay," I said meekly.

"Okay Colin, I'm glad I could help," she said with a laugh. "Hopefully next time you have to see me it's just for a pulled muscle."

"Yeah," I agreed sheepishly.

She waved as I left her office, and I walked home trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.