Zity Biz Physical Exam

Zity Biz Physical Exam

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Jjangsub

2022.02.21

(Almost) Ancient History

srg rik

2009.05.02

$500 for being a test subject

satirpha

2015.11.30

1940's Gyno Nurse Petite Memoir Interview

PlanetDweller

2014.08.11

1951, His diaper history

Anonymous

2007.09.18

1st college experience

Anonymous

2016.04.09

1st time in public - so exciting

Jessie Jessica

2015.02.08

2 diapered girls

twocent

2009.10.15

2012 New Beginnings... A long running daily Serial

DanL

2010.05.17

21 Days of Treatment

bodusha

2012.12.17

22 yr old girl gets mommy

Anonymous

2016.12.24

24 Hours

Taster of Pleasure

2007.11.04

3-Day Submissive Health Assessment

eekk

2020.05.30

30 Days In Diapers

Anonymous

2007.07.21

3rd Visit to Nurse Mistress

playdoc

2007.10.03

A surprising Beginning

Piper Fox

2022.04.08

A Baby's Life

Anonymous

2007.09.07

A Bad Weekend Turns into a Worse Week

Anonymous

2007.10.02

A Beautiful Day (Fictional story)

babyboy20

2021.03.08

A Bed Wetter's diaper story

Anonymous

2007.08.24

A bedwetter's diaper story spinoff

Crispinavi

2009.02.18

A Bee in My Bonnett

Piper Fox

2022.05.19

A Big Surprise For Elizabeth

Anonymous

2007.08.05

A birthday I will never ... Forget

Anonymous

2012.07.05

A Blind Date with Laura

bates

2021.03.16

A Boy In Diapers

Anonymous

2007.09.04

A Brief Threesome

Anonymous

2007.11.01

A Brooklyn Surprise

stingr

2020.07.28

A camping enema

Rolf E

2011.11.23

A candy cane for Mrs. Claus

coronet54

2014.12.28

A caring mother

m3lyc

2011.01.28

A Catheter for Sam

Sam

2007.07.14

A Certain Change in Government

Blueboat

2020.06.14

A chance encounter with a real physician

Anonymous

2007.09.28

A Change And A Warning

Curt2299

2013.01.20

A change of scenery

Mommy Millie

2020.10.31

A change of underwear

freyjaceleste862

2014.08.18

A checkup from the Nanny

Anonymous

2007.08.13

A Client Visit Holds a Surprise

Soapy4me

2021.07.29

A clinic in the mountains

Woyzeck

2013.01.02

A Collection of Dave Russell Enema stories

Anonymous

2007.07.25

A College Student's House Call Appointment

shyguy27midwest

2008.12.16

A Comfortable Thanksgiving

Anonymous

2007.07.17

A Coming Home Surprise for Al

Anonymous

2013.04.06

A conversation I heard.

darlo

2016.11.16

A Couples Enema

Anonymous

2007.07.31

A couples trouble

ChuckMed

2012.04.24

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© 2022 Copyright Military Experience & The Arts. All Rights Reserved.
MEA is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization whose primary mission is to work with veterans and their families to publish short stories, essays, poems, and artwork in our bi-annual publication, As You Were: The Military Review , periodic editions of Blue Nostalgia: The Journal of Post-Traumatic Growth, and others. Each author or poet who submits work to us is afforded the chance to work one-on-one with a mentor to polish their work or learn new skills and techniques.
Our staff is based all over the country and includes college professors, professional authors, veterans’ advocates, and clinicians.
All editing, consultations, and workshops are free of charge. Veterans and their families pay nothing for our services, and they never will.
Under our Publications tab, there are more than a dozen volumes of creative work crafted by veterans and their family members as well as a virtual art gallery. Our blog posts feature short pieces that cover a wide range of opinion editorials, literary reviews, and profiles on veteran artists and writers.
Please consider spending some time navigating our site and reading and seeing the fine work of veterans and their families from around the globe.
The gleaming white veterans’ hospital with its immaculate lawns was much nicer and more impressive than the local Coney Island hospital. That was my initial reaction as I drove by the front of the Fort Hamilton. But why were there those big cannons facing out to New York Bay? What were they expecting? An invasion of Brooklyn by Staten Islanders? These random observations ended as I pulled into the fenced entrance. My anxiety grew. This was October of 1969, the war was raging in Southeast Asia and I had arrived for my draft physical.
During my undergraduate years I was shielded from the war by student deferments but it was hard to ignore Vietnam. The constant images of death, both American and Vietnamese, were put on television every evening. Casualty figures and video clips of wounded and dead American soldiers being removed from combat in helicopters were the staples of the nightly news. As potential soldiers, students looked in shock at what might be awaiting them. Pictures like that of a young Vietnamese girl, burned by napalm, running naked down a road, are forever etched in the memories of anyone who saw it. By 1969 four of my high school classmates had already been killed in Vietnam. One of the four was a friend, a fellow I played football with. Mikey Russo was the starting fullback on our high school football team; I was a backup linebacker. He was a big, quiet, friendly guy. A year out of high school he enlisted in the Marine Corps and was killed two years later.
It was because of guys like Mikey Russo that the war tore the United States apart, with people lined up for and against. Anti-war campus protests were a frequent occurrence. Most students were against Vietnam, although for many it was more of being against going there than against the war itself.
For me there were no more deferments. I was now in graduate school, for which deferments had been cancelled two years earlier. This was real and all my bravado couldn’t stop anything. What would happen would happen and I couldn’t control it. I parked my car, took a deep breath and followed the signs pointing to the induction physical.
I was ambivalent about being drafted, even up to this moment. On one hand, I had no desire to kill anyone and I did not want to go to Vietnam. The war was no patriotic endeavor, no glorious mission. It seemed to any careful observer that it had turned into death for death’s sake. For most of the war, to my regret these many years later, I made no conscious stand on the struggle one way or the other. However by my senior year in college the war had dragged on for over five years and I came to the realization that this war was a huge mistake both in conception and execution. Thirty thousand American soldiers had already died including my four classmates. Each week the news announced American deaths for the previous week, usually one hundred to two hundred. The next announcement would be that a thousand North Vietnamese and Viet Cong had been killed. I figured the Vietnamese body count was just bullshit exaggeration by the army. After the war ended I discovered to my horror that the Vietnamese death figures were true. Along with the sixty thousand Americans killed, one million Vietnamese died.
On the other hand, I had a not uncommon problem for the children of the World War Two generation. Every male member of my family had served in the military and most were combat veterans of either the Second World War or Korea. We flew the American flag each Memorial Day, then called Decoration Day, and flew the flag each Veteran’s Day, then called Armistice Day. Military service and dedication to country were considered obligations that transcended even some tragic family history. My mother’s first cousin, Oscar Seltzer, was killed in Korea and posthumously awarded the Silver Star. A combat medic, he dragged eight wounded GI’s to safety during a Chinese sneak attack on Easter Sunday 1952, before being strafed by machine gun fire and killed. His best friend, Herman Raucher, dedicated the book Summer of 42 to him and he is the character Oscy in the hit film. Oscar’s death cast a shadow over the family but did not diminish their belief in America or their belief that one owed the country service. My close bonds with my family prevented me from doing anything about the draft other than go through the process. I never considered avoiding the draft or running away to Canada as viable options. Such actions would have torn me away from those closest to me. My family believed that the Second World War was a just war and we Americans were the good guys. It was a given that the Nazis and the Japanese militarists were evil and that we Americans saved the world from this evil. To my family, questions about war and obligation were black and white. There were no shades of gray. Unfortunately they carried this belief over to Vietnam. However by 1969 the accumulated deaths, with no seeming end or plan, made me realize that Vietnam was no great
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