Dyno-Rod

157

     Bond blinked. "Down my penis?" The nurse nodded. "Both the tubes?" She affirmed this with another curt nod. "At the same time?" The nurse nodded a third time. Bond didn't ask for any more details as he was sure it would only elicit another nod and he wasn't at all sure he would be able to handle all the things she'd already nodded for without adding to the total. "There'll be a bit of discomfort," she said.
     This snippet of information seemed to Bond to be about as necessary as telling someone who was about to be hung, drawn and quartered that it wasn't going to be a picnic. It occurred to him that being hung, drawn and quartered might be preferable to the bladder examination, and he was just about to ask the nurse if this was an option when she went into action.
     "Lie down please, Mr Bond" she said, snapping on a pair of rubber gloves.
     The only saving grace so far as Bond could see was that the nurse was short and fat. A Bond Girl she wasn’t. So at least he would be spared the embarrassment of a spontaneous erection when she handled his penis.
     "This will help deaden the pain," the nurse said, spraying his genital area with an aerosol. Having done this she picked up one of the pieces of plastic tubing and looked at Bond ominously.
     Bond had no wish to see what the nurse was doing, enduring it would be bad enough, so he clamped his eyes firmly shut. The nurse went about her business. It was immediately obvious to Bond that the moment he'd closed his eyes the nurse had swapped the plastic tubing for a Dyno-Rod. He had no way of knowing whether the anaesthetic spray helped to deaden the pain but felt that if it did it was wasting its time, for the pain was excruciating. When Bond had been in the Royal Navy one of his compatriots had been unfortunate enough to catch gonorrhoea, the symptoms of which he said were 'Like pissing broken glass'. By the time the two plastic tubes had been pushed into his penis as far as the nurse deemed sufficient Bond felt like he was pissing not broken glass but broken bottles.
     The tubes inserted, Bond had then to stand up, his smock pulled up and gathered round his waist so that it didn't foul the plastic pipes now dangling from his penis, while the Nurse proceeded to slowly pump what seemed like the contents of Lake Windermere through the tubes and into his bladder.
     "Tell me when you can't take any more," she said after about two minutes pumping.
     "I can't take any more," Bond said, almost before she'd finished speaking.