The Exam

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm only borrowing for entertainment value.

Frodo Baggins woke to the soft sound of birdsong floating in through the window. Yawning, he stretched lazily upon the over-sized Gondorian bed, and blinked at the bright sunlight. Frodo heaved himself over towards the edge of the bed with a sigh. In the past weeks, he had grown very large with child, and his sheer girth made such a simple task as rolling over in bed into a terribly embarrassing feat of strength.

With another heavy sigh, Frodo slipped his large feet over the edge of the bed and shivered when they touched the cold wood of the hobbit-sized step stool placed there for him. Oh, how he longed to simply laze in bed this day. Sleep had become a precious commodity for the pregnant hobbit. He was too hot, or too cold, too sore, or too restless, and always he was uncomfortable.

But Aragorn had ordered that he have an examination this day. His time grew near, and the King wished to be reassured that all was well with the babe. There had been other examinations, but they were short, and rather informal. Aragorn would ask him to lie back on their bed, pull up his man-sized nightshirt and proceed to feel about his belly.

This day would be different.

There was a special wing to the healing houses, one Frodo never thought he would be visiting. It was a wing that was used for one purpose, and one purpose only. Birthing babies. Frodo had been skeptical when Aragorn had asked for the hobbit to meet him there, but he trusted Aragorn.

Climbing out of bed, Frodo padded, well waddled, over to the large mirror by the wardrobe. Sliding his hand down over his enormous belly, he looked in the mirror as he held Aragorn’s nightshirt back against his legs under the swell. How his body had changed since they had learned of his condition. Along with his swollen belly, Frodo could feel a sensitivity beginning in his chest. Almost an ache at times.

Selecting a large blue tunic, Frodo changed his nightshirt for the soft cotton garment. Blushing, he realized that it did little to cover the slight swell to his chest, but there was nothing he could truly do for that, either.

Pulling on his breeches was another feat all together, however. Frodo had been completely humiliated when Aragorn had ordered the specially made garments for him. They were now low cut in the front, resting just over his hobbity parts, but below his swollen belly. They were now completely held up with his braces.

Finally fully dressed, Frodo took one last look at himself in the mirror. Blushing, he was nearly embarrassed to leave their rooms, and wander through the upper levels of Minas Tirith to the Healing Houses. There was no mistaking his condition, and he loathed the way in which the people of the city stared at him.

He was talked about in all circles. He had even heard the guards discussing his relationship with the King, when they thought he hadn’t been listening. The whole situation made poor Frodo want to just hide from everyone. The last thing he wished to be doing was waddling himself through the marketplace and to the Healing Houses.

But that was precisely what he had to do.

Taking a deep breath, Frodo prepared to leave his chambers. His hand had barely touched the doorknob before there was a loud knock upon that very door. Startled, Frodo could have sworn he jumped two feet in the air.

“Y-yes?” He called, his voices shaking as his heart beat rapidly against his ribs.

“Master Frodo? I’ve come to remind you of your appointment in the Healing Houses.” Came the voice from the other side of the door.

With a deep sigh, Frodo opened the door and nodded. “Yes, thank you. I was just on my way there, now.” Blushing, Frodo began the long waddle in that direction.

Frodo dreaded the long walk, and the many stairs he would have to go down. With his added girth, the stairs had become very difficult to manage. It was very hard to descend them when he could not see the next step he reached for. That, along with his rather front-heavy frame, was a recipe for disaster.

Today would be no different.

One moment, Frodo was carefully inching his way down the stairs, clinging to the railing with all his might, and the next his foot missed a step, and he was sure he would go tumbling forward head over heels. Frodo squeezed his eyes tight and waited for the feel of his body landing upon the cold stone.

It never came. Instead, he found his body suddenly resting against a large, warm body.

“You must be more careful, Frodo. That could have been a terrible fall.” Faramir’s soft voice admonished as his large hands righted the hobbit upon the stairs.

Frodo had the grace to blush. “I tripped.” He stated, needlessly, causing Faramir to smile softly at him.

“So I saw. Where are you off to, Master Hobbit?”

Frodo grasped the railing again, and tried to still his racing heart. His hand then slid from its place over his heart, and down over the swell of his belly, checking to make sure that the babe was well. Finally, satisfied by the frantic kicking beneath his heart, Frodo released the breath he hadn’t thought he’d been holding.

“I’m to meet Aragorn in the Houses of Healing. In fact, I shall be late if I do not hurry.” Frodo stated, slightly embarrassed.

“Then I’ll not keep you any longer. Just be careful, Frodo.” Faramir smiled, before continuing on his way.

Frodo made it safely down the stairs and set out through the marketplace. He kept his large blue eyes upon the ground before him as he walked. Half to make sure he did not stumble over anything, but also half to try to block out the stares he received from the local merchants. He had become quite the talk of the White City. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the pregnant hobbit, which only led him to wish to hide even more.

Only Aragorn knew of his true nature, and that which could make it possible for him to come to be in his current condition. Frodo had never before given himself to another, and even the King had been surprised on the night of his coronation, when the ringbearer had given himself to the man. It was a secret that Frodo had meant to save only for his intended.

Rounding the corner, Frodo finally set his eyes upon the Healing Houses. He was beginning to find it difficult to breathe after walking so far, and longed only to sit and put his aching feet up. Steeling himself, the rotund hobbit crossed the last courtyard and entered the Houses of Healing.

“Ah, Master Baggins. The King has been expecting you. He’s just down the hall, second door on your left.” Stated the kindly older woman behind the desk. Her eyes unmistakably sliding over his swollen belly as she spoke.

“Thank you, my lady. I shall go down there straight away.” Frodo stated, wishing for nothing more than to get away from the curious stares of everyone he came across.

“Oh, wait! You’ll need this.” She called to him, holding out a bundle of bleached white fabric. “King Elessar asked that you put this on before meeting him.”

“I thank you again.” Frodo said a little cautiously, accepting the folded garment. He was then directed to a washroom down the hall, where he could change.

Closing, and locking the door, Frodo finally unfolded the garment he had been given. His eyes widened as he stared in disbelief at the offending piece of fabric. It was a gown, but not a full gown by any means. It had only one tie, and that was placed just at the neck, letting the rest of the gown hang loose below it. Frodo had some doubt that the garment would even close over his swollen belly.

Feeling dubious of the whole idea, Frodo slowly undressed and pulled the gown on, tying it at his neck. Once more, he felt glad that he had not had to change in front of someone else. He had always been nervous around other’s, afraid they would learn his secret. Once dressed in the gown again, he discovered, much as he had suspected, that the material was not enough to cover his expanded waistline. He checked himself in the mirror and blushed deeply at his reflection. There, staring back at him was a heavily pregnant hobbit, his chest swollen, and his enormous belly poking through the parted gown that he held firmly closed with one hand below his belly.

Opening the door, Frodo peered right and then left before attempting to run down the hall to the room where Aragorn was waiting. The sight of said room, however, caused the poor hobbit to stop dead in his tracks in the doorway. His eyes widened as he took in the pastel coloured room, with the oddly abstract paintings upon the walls, and the strange looking bed placed in the middle of the room. The bed, while comfortable looking, had a strange sort of seam in the padding about three quarters of the way from the head of it. Before Frodo could examine his surroundings much further, Aragorn came in through another door at the side of the room.

“Come in, Frodo. I’m glad you finally made it, I was worried I would have to send someone to escort you.” Aragorn teased slightly, his eyes clearly amused at his lover’s state of dress.

Frodo blushed under his gaze. “Yes, well, there was no need for that. I’m here now. Although, I must say, this gown is less than comfortable, Aragorn. Must I wear it?”

“I’m afraid so. It is a part of this sort of examination.” Humiliation? Frodo thought, as he crossed the room to Aragorn. “Now, I need you to climb up on the table, please.” Aragorn said, as he pushed a step stool over to the edge and offered Frodo a hand.

Obeying, Frodo carefully climbed the steps, holding the king’s hand for support. Once at the top, he eased himself around and sat upon the table with a sigh. His back ached, and his ankles were swollen from having to walk so far. He wished he was back in their chambers, and that he could simply curl up in bed and nap the rest of the day away.

“Alright, love. Could you swing your legs up here for me?” Aragorn asked, patting the bed in the direction of the strange seam. Complying, Frodo did as he was asked. He wanted nothing more than for this examination to be completed as quickly as possible.

Once the hobbit was in position, Aragorn bent down and retrieved a strange contraption, inserting it into a hole at the side of the bed. It was a long metal pole, with a sort of padded cradle at the top. Frodo stared at it suspiciously before Aragorn slid its twin into a hole on the other side. Frodo looked down as his ankles were now framed by these strange support-like things.

“What are those, Aragorn?” He asked, his voice soft, but doubting.

“Knee-supports.” Aragorn stated matter-of-factly as he turned to a small table of instruments at his side.

Frodo narrowed his eyes as he stared at the back of the king’s head. “Precisely why do we require ‘knee-supports’?” He asked, cautiously.

Turning back, Aragorn sighed. “Because, my dear hobbit, I need to conduct a lengthy exam. It will help to have your knees supported. Trust me.”

Frodo had learned long ago that whenever a healer said the words ‘trust me’ he was in for an unsettling experience. Still clutching his gown closed around him, he stared at the ceiling for a moment. How was it that he always ended up in these sorts of embarrassing medical situations?

“Alright, Frodo. We need to put your legs up in these supports. I’m just going to lift your first leg.” Aragorn stated, taking Frodo’s left leg and lifting it up and out away from his body.

Frodo blushed at the gust of cold air that suddenly hit his most secret of parts, and bit his lip. Never before had he been on display like this, and he prayed no one else would walk in while he was in such a vulnerable position. As his calf was placed into the support, he wished that was the worst of it. His wish, however, was not to be answered, as Aragorn then lifted his other leg in the same manner, and set it into the other support.

“Just relax, love. It will go much quicker if you relax.” Aragorn attempted in a soothing voice.

Taking a deep breath, Frodo began counting the beams on the ceiling. There was no longer any use holding his gown shut, as he lay bow-legged and vulnerable on the table. Instead, his hands rested at his sides, his fingers drumming nervously against the padded bed as he listened to Aragorn washing his hands. Footsteps approached the bed, and Aragorn’s rugged face came into view, at last.

“I’m just going to check on the babe’s growth, Frodo. I’m worried that he is growing too large to pass through your hips when the time comes.” Aragorn stated, his voice laced with concern.

Large, water-chilled hands then pressed against Frodo’s belly. Poking, prodding. Frodo had never particularly liked this part of the examination. It was a little less than comfortable as Aragorn jammed his fingers into the tender flesh of his belly.

“Good. The babe has turned, and his head is down now. That’s a good sign, Frodo.” Aragorn smiled.

“Is that it, then?” Frodo asked hopefully, causing the king to laugh heartily.

“Not even close, I’m afraid. Now comes the more difficult part. I wish to look inside you, Frodo. I want to see that everything is as it should be. I would also like to see if there are any signs of labour beginning.” Aragorn stated professionally.

“In-inside?” Frodo gasped, one hand flying to his belly protectively. “Must you, really?” He was still very self-conscious of his ‘extra’ parts.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. But I promise to try to be quick.” Aragorn said apologetically, as he moved down to the end of the bed.

Frodo heard a strange sort of scraping noise as though Aragorn were pulling away something. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he realized what that sound had been. Suddenly the strange seam of the bed made sense, for Aragorn had just removed the lower section.

“Love, I need you to move down towards me.” Aragorn’s soft voice said. With a slight nod, and blushing deeply, Frodo squirmed down a few inches. “That’s good, Frodo, but a little lower, please?” Aragorn asked.

“Aragorn, if I move much lower, my bottom shall be hanging off the table.” Frodo stated, slightly shrilly.

“Yes, love. That’s the idea.” Aragorn tried to smile comfortingly as he placed his large hands on Frodo’s hips and helped the hobbit to slide down until he was in a most precarious position. Frodo’s hands gripped the sides of the bed until his knuckles turned white, and he closed his eyes, wishing he could shut out the entire experience at the same time.

“Very good.” Aragorn reassured, followed by the sound of him pulling up a stool.

Frodo blushed deeply, a deeper shade of crimson he didn’t think was possible. Aragorn now sat between his splayed legs, almost at eye-level with his delicate parts. Even though Aragorn was his lover, and the father of his child, Frodo could not help but blush at the current position he was in.

“I’m now going to check within you, love. Just relax.” Aragorn said softly, as he placed one hand upon Frodo’s enlarged abdomen and stood. His other hand, however, found its way between the poor hobbit’s legs. Frodo jumped as a probing finger pressed against his female opening, slowly pressing inwards.

“That’s it, love. Just relax.” Aragorn repeated, and Frodo held his breath at the strange feeling of intrusion.

He could feel Aragorn’s finger moving around, poking and prodding on his insides. The King made a strange humming sound as a look of concentration crossed his face. Without warning, another finger slid in to join its mate, forcing Frodo to bite his lip. All this stimulation was beginning to have an effect, and no matter how hard the poor hobbit kept thinking of Gandalf naked, Frodo could still feel the telltale heat spreading through his loins. Swallowing hard, Frodo hoped he could control himself better.

“Frodo?” Aragorn’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm...Oh! yes, Love?” Frodo blushed deeply at the idea of what Aragorn might say to him now.

“I’m a little concerned about what I’m feeling. I’ll be right back.” With that Aragorn rose, and wiping his hands on a cloth, left the room.

Frodo looked shocked. His love, his husband, had just left him perched upon the table, his legs spread wide in the air, and with no hope in Mordor of ever getting himself out of that position without help. Frodo was mortified. He couldn’t cover himself up, and the best he could do was hope that Aragorn would return shortly.

Return, he did. However, the King was not alone. Aragorn returned, giving Frodo a soft smile as he entered, but he was followed in by a rather strict looking man. Frodo blushed, quickly surpassing the crimson he earlier thought he couldn’t. Without a word, the strict man then moved between Frodo’s legs. Mortified, Frodo tried to squirm away. He couldn’t believe Aragorn would subject him to this sort of torture.

“What is the meaning of this!?!” Frodo cried, still trying to get away.

“Shh, love. Caron is just going to check you. He has more experience in such situations, than I do.” Aragorn stated, apologetically.

“He’s going to…WHAT?” Frodo shrieked, turning nearly purple with shame at the idea of this man learning his secret.

“I assure you, Master Hobbit, that there is nothing you possess that I have not seen before.” Caron attempted to reassure him, which was quickly negated as the man’s eyebrows rose, and his stern mouth formed a small ‘o’ in surprise.

“Evidently not, my lord.” Frodo spat angrily. No longer willing to be good-natured about being spread out upon a table for all to see.

Caron paid no attention and reached over to the table of instruments, selecting a long cylindrical metal object off said table. Frodo watched, his eyes growing wide as thoughts of where that object was meant to aide in the examination. At the first touch of the cold metal surface to the soft folds of his feminine opening, Frodo tried very hard to squirm backwards away. Aragorn’s hands rested gently against his shoulders, holding him in place, however.

“Please, Frodo. This is for the good of the baby.” He pleaded.

Frodo whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He hated when Aragorn used that pleading tone with him, for it nearly always worked, and this time was no exception. Gritting his teeth, and grasping the sides of the bed tightly in his fists, Frodo remained still.

He sucked in a deep, hissing breath as Caron slid the cold implement into him, and just kept going. Frodo’s mind raced, and he was sure that the man would harm the baby with how far he pushed the icy metal bar. Biting his lip, Frodo let out a soft whimper as Caron proceeded to turn a small wheel, which allowed the device to widen within him.

Frodo had never felt anything like that. It was not a pleasant feeling by any means, although he felt a slight tingle as his body responded to the touch of one of his most sensitive places. Frodo could feel his muscles squeeze involuntarily around the unforgiving intruder, and his breath quicken. His face flushed deeply as Frodo realized that he was again becoming aroused, and this time it was not Aragorn faced with the evidence of this.

Caron sat upon the stool, eye level with poor Frodo’s groin, and examined his female genitals carefully. Frodo jumped visibly when Caron’s finger came into contact with the entrance to his womb. It was the most uncomfortable feeling he had yet to experience through the whole examination. It had actually almost hurt as Caron wiggled his finger, pressing harder against the opening.

“Is…that really necessary?” Frodo asked, through his teeth.

Caron nodded, not even raising his eyes. “I need to see how close your time is. I can already feel the softening of the birth canal, Master Hobbit. I believe it may only be a few days now. Have you felt any pains begin?”

Frodo shook his head, wishing the whole exam would end quickly. His legs throbbed, and his back still ached, and now his arousal was making itself known. Frodo, again, tried to think of the old wizard naked, in hopes that it would help curb the growing warmth below.

However Caron was not finished. Seating himself again, he began gently running his fingers along the outer folds of the opening. Frodo released a shaky breath and again counted the ceiling beams. Then Caron touched that one spot, the one that only Aragorn had ever touched. Frodo gasped, and arched his back slightly as sparks of fire spread through his hips and abdomen. His cheeks flushed deeply as he realized that he now stood at full attention, and right in front of Caron’s gaze.

Frodo began to wish that exam table would open up and devour him whole. Anything to get away from this situation. Aragorn was standing right there, watching everything that Caron was doing, holding Frodo’s shoulder for comfort. The poor hobbit tried to keep his hips still, when his body screamed for him to shift, to seek better stimulation than the soft, barely touch that Caron was bestowing.

“p-please, my lord…” Frodo began softly, pleadingly. “Are you not finished now?”

“I’m afraid not, Master Hobbit. While I have felt the opening, I would like to rub an herbed jelly along it to help it to soften properly. I truly do not think that your time is that far away, and I would like for you to attempt to birth this baby on your own. It would be better for you, and for the babe.” Caron stated, very professionally.

“Could you please get on with it?” Frodo demanded, a little shortly. He did not know how much longer he could control his own body.

With a little smile at the sharp tongue, Caron sat once more. Turning the wheel, he spread Frodo wider. The poor hobbit felt as though he were being torn in two, and could only imagine the sight he made. His gown spread open exposing his large belly and chest, his male organs responding visibly to the touches of the healer, with his legs held open above him, and a long metal instrument inserted into his body, parting him for all to see.

Frodo tried to slow his breathing as he stared intently at the ceiling. He was sure that he would die of embarrassment if he should find his release while Caron was examining him thus. Frodo bit his lip hard as he felt Caron insert his fingers again. Once more, he felt the uncomfortable feeling of Caron’s fingers prodding at the entrance to his womb, this time in a more languid stroking sensation. At last, Frodo felt the fingers retreat, and sighed audibly in relief.

“I’m done, Master Hobbit. I’m just going to remove the speculum now. This may be a little uncomfortable.” Caron stated, matter-of-factly.

Frodo bit his lip and prepared himself. He could feel Caron releasing the instrument so it would collapse upon itself once more. Then he felt the slow tug as Caron removed it. Frodo felt as though his body was protesting to its removal, clinging to the now-warm-metal as it was taken away. When at last the speculum came free, Frodo’s body issued a strange, wet, sucking noise that had the hobbit wishing he could hide his face in shame.

“Thank you, Caron. I appreciate your help in this matter.” Aragorn stated, coming over to shake Caron’s hand after the man had washed up.

“I’m glad to be of service, Sire. I look forward to seeing your son running through the courtyard in years to come.” Caron stated, and smiled for what seemed like the first time before leaving the room.

Frodo lay with his legs still in the supports. He was still nearly uncovered for all the world to see, except he now had his arms crossed over his chest, and one large hobbit foot jiggling in it’s support.

“That was all very nice, Aragorn, but if you didn’t remember, I’m not exactly in the most comfortable of situations here. Could you please help me down, before I catch a chill from being so rudely exposed?” Frodo snapped, frustrated and angry.

Aragorn had the grace to blush at being so reprimanded. He quickly moved to the table, and helped Frodo lower his legs. The poor hobbit felt that his legs had both fallen asleep after spending so much time in the same position above his body. With a soft groan, he slowly wiggled his toes in effort to get his circulation moving again.

In the meantime, Aragorn had replaced the bottom of the bed under Frodo’s bottom, and removed the knee-supports, as well. With a slightly embarrassed smile, Aragorn offered his arm to Frodo, and helped the heavily pregnant hobbit to sit up again.

Rubbing his belly absently, Frodo looked up at Aragorn. He had one question on his mind, and one question only.

“Can I get out of this ridiculous gown, now?”