The fluorescent lights of St. Mary’s Catholic Hospital buzzed overhead as Clara waddled through the sliding glass doors, her pronounced baby bump leading the way like a ship’s prow cutting through rough seas. Her ill-fitting hospital gown—more of a suggestion than a garment—clung to her curves in all the wrong places, the thin fabric doing little to hide her swollen, pendulous breasts or the sheer size of her pregnancy. Beside her, Tim, her lanky, perpetually flustered husband, shuffled along, clutching a dog-eared parenting magazine as if it were a lifeline. His cheeks were already pink, and they hadn’t even reached the examination room yet.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, could they make these gowns any smaller?” Clara muttered, tugging at the hem as they navigated the bustling hallway. Her voice carried a sharp edge, honed by months of discomfort and a growing intolerance for nonsense. “I’m practically flashing the entire maternity ward. Look at that orderly over there—yes, you, buddy—enjoying the free show?”
Tim, ever the anxious protector, sidestepped closer, holding the magazine up like a makeshift shield over her chest. “I’ve got you, babe. No one’s gonna see a thing.”
Clara swatted his hand away, her hazel eyes flashing. “Oh, for God’s sake, Tim, you’re making it worse. Now it looks like I’m smuggling contraband under a copy of *Parenting Today*. Just walk normally, will you?”
Before Tim could stammer a reply, a brisk figure in a starched white habit approached, her sensible shoes clicking against the linoleum with military precision. Sister Margaret, the no-nonsense nurse who’d clearly seen it all, gestured toward an examination room with a curt nod. “This way, Mrs. Donovan. Let’s get you settled.”
The couple followed, Clara’s gown flapping traitorously as she moved, but Sister Margaret didn’t bother closing the door behind them. It swung wide open, a blatant invitation to the parade of hospital staff and patients passing by. Clara’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she caught the curious glance of a janitor mopping the floor just outside.
“Uh, Sister, could we maybe… close that?” Tim ventured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if asking might summon divine retribution.
Sister Margaret waved a dismissive hand, her lips twitching into what might’ve been a smirk. “Modesty is overrated, Mr. Donovan. This is a hospital. Everyone’s seen it all anyway. Now, Mrs. Donovan, up on the table, if you please.”
Clara shot Tim a withering look before hoisting herself onto the examination table, the paper crinkling beneath her. The gown rode up as she moved, exposing far more thigh—and more—than she’d intended. “Fantastic,” she growled under her breath. “I’m a goddamn exhibit now. Might as well hang a ‘Come One, Come All’ sign on the door.”
Tim hovered near her, shifting his weight awkwardly as he tried to position himself between Clara and the open doorway. “I’ll just… stand here. Block the view.”
Clara rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with exasperation. “Tim, you’re about as useful as a paper curtain. Sit your ass down before you trip over your own feet and make this even more of a circus.”
He obeyed instantly, slinking into a plastic chair with a defeated slump, just as a new figure swept into the room. Dr. O’Connor, a tall, imposing woman with a clipboard tucked under one arm and a smirk that could cut glass, didn’t even glance at the open door as she boomed, “Clara Donovan! Good to see you again, darling. How’s my favorite patient today? Still carrying that little linebacker in there?”
Clara managed a tight smile, her hands instinctively pulling at the gown. “Just peachy, Doc. Couldn’t be better, what with the entire hospital getting a front-row seat to my business.”
Dr. O’Connor chuckled, unfazed, as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves with a dramatic flourish. “Oh, relax. It’s just skin. Now, let’s get you positioned for the full check—vaginal and anal. Scoot down, legs up, you know the drill. I’ll need to get a good look to make sure everything’s progressing nicely.”
Clara’s jaw tightened, but she complied, her face burning as she muttered, “Sure, why not? Let’s just spread it all out for the world to see. Maybe we can livestream it while we’re at it.”
Tim coughed, his ears practically glowing red, but before he could say anything, the door swung wider as a slick-looking man in a cheap polyester suit barged in, a shiny brochure in hand. “Dr. O’Connor, perfect timing! I’ve got the latest in ultrasound tech—revolutionary stuff, really. You’ll want to—oh, hello there,” he said, his eyes flickering over Clara’s exposed position without a shred of shame.
Clara’s glare could’ve melted steel. “Are you kidding me? What is this, a flea market? Get out, you vulture in polyester, before I shove that brochure where the sun don’t shine.”
The sales rep just chuckled, unfazed, as he launched into his pitch. “Feisty, I like it. But seriously, Doc, this machine—”
Dr. O’Connor didn’t even look up, her fingers already working with clinical precision as she examined Clara. “Not now, Greg. I’ve got my hands full—literally. Come back in an hour.”
Clara’s teeth ground together as she shot a venomous look at Tim, who was half-rising from his chair in a futile attempt to intervene. “Don’t even think about it, Tim. Stop playing knight in shining armor and let this circus parade on. Clearly, I’m the main attraction.”
As if on cue, more heads poked into the room—a nurse with a chart, another sales rep clutching a sample kit, even a curious orderly who lingered just a bit too long. Clara’s large, wrinkled anus, exposed during the anal exam, became an unintentional focal point, and she could feel every pair of eyes boring into her. The humiliation was a living thing, clawing at her pride, but she refused to crumble.
Locking eyes with Tim across the room, her expression was a storm of mortification and fiery defiance. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, “If one more idiot walks in here, I’m charging admission. Mark my words, Tim, this hospital’s gonna fund our kid’s college with the ticket sales.”
Tim swallowed hard, offering a weak, lopsided smile. “You’ve got this, babe. You’re… unstoppable.”
Clara snorted, her gaze never wavering. “Damn right I am. Now pass me that magazine. If I’m gonna be on display, I might as well read up on diaper rash while I’m at it.”
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