Chapter Text
Micah Perez sits on the edge of the exam table. His legs dangle down like pendulums, swaying in alternation, as he anxiously waits to meet his new gynecologist.
For the past year, Micah had tried to connect with anyone underground who could get him testosterone. It didn’t matter what form, as long as he could get his hands on it without being caught violating Oswea’s strict reproductive mandate. He thought he’d been careful.
The gynecologist enters the exam room, the door on the other side of the privacy curtain opening abruptly as he steps inside and allows it to shut behind him. The sudden noise makes Micah jump. He flinches as the doctor pulls the curtain back, the hard plastic half-rings screeching against the metal track that divided the room.
“Why, hello,” the doctor says, looking Micah up and down as he tucks a clipboard under one arm, placing his pen in the front pocket of his white coat with the opposite hand.
He chuckles lightly as he notes the young man’s anxious fidgeting and self-protective posture.
Holding out his hand to Micah, he says, “You must be Micah. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Dr. Jerard Pruitt.”
Micah reluctantly takes his hand and Dr. Pruitt shakes it before he can lift his arm to perform the gesture himself. He pulls his hand away with a slight blush, feeling already a bit humiliated by the emasculating sleight.
“Yeah, hi,” Micah croaks.
Dr. Pruitt sets his clipboard down on the exam room counter and leans against it, placing one hand at his own hip, his face reflecting an expectant expression.
“I, uh… we discussed, over secure mail… you know, the… reason for my visit,” Micah says, awkwardly attempting to hint toward a question without asking it aloud.
It was a tricky game, trying to get hormone replacement therapy in a place like Oswea; all of the nods, winks, nudges, and stilted speech were an irritation but they were necessary security measures when getting across the fact that you needed to medically transition.
It wasn’t as if you couldn’t ‘be trans’ in Oswea. There were a few major pockets of queer Osweans in the coastal cities. The national courts had never prosecuted someone ‘for being transsexual’ (at least, that’s not how it was ever legally viewed). You could, of course, be transsexual in this country… as long as you followed the federal mandate requiring participation in national reproduction.
Clearly, people were able to obtain it somehow. Although, the only times Micah had ever heard of someone successfully medically transitioning, they had already been caught. When he’d finally gotten in touch with people sharing ‘safe’ doctors, it didn’t occur to him that there might be bad actors in the midst of all the other VPN-using transsexual Osweans speaking in code on message boards and secret forums. Perhaps he should’ve been more careful.
But, when Dr. Pruitt nods knowingly at Micah’s hinting, he seems safe enough. He’s a soft, middle-aged man whose entire demeanor reads as friendly and non-threatening.
“Yes, of course,” Dr. Pruitt says.
“Okay… so, do I really need to be stripped-down for this?” he asks, pinching at the modesty sheet wrapped around his midsection.
When he’d been escorted into the room by the nurse who took his weight and blood pressure, she’d told him to strip from the waist down, insisting that the doctor wanted him to do so. The white cloth is draped over his legs. He sits precariously over the folded-over portion keeping the sheet in place, still anxiously letting his feet swing back and forth.
“We still need for this appointment to be entirely above-board on paper to evade suspicion. This way, I can confirm that you’re ‘sterile’ and I can put you in touch with a… trusted source,” he says, his eye twitching like a sort-of wink.
Micah’s expression doesn’t change.
“Is this your first exam?” Dr. Pruitt asks, proceeding to wash his hands and talk to Micah over his shoulder at the sink.
“Yes…” he admits nervously.
“Your intake forms disclosed that you are… nineteen, is that so?” Dr. Pruitt asks, drying his hands as he peers over his clipboard, sitting on the counter to double-check the number.
Micah averts his eyes, his cheeks flushing. He simply nods slightly, his lips compressing into a thin line as he tries to appear nonchalant despite his discomfort.
“And not sexually active, hm?” the doctor tuts his lips. “I’m guessing you haven’t even had a Pap smear before… all up-to-date on your HPV vaccines, though. Excellent.”
Micah doesn’t seem to find it very funny, now looking at Dr. Pruitt with an anxious, pleading stare.
“Don’t worry. We can do one early, as part of your pelvic… and then you won’t need another until you’re twenty-two,” the doctor says, clearly trying to inject a bit of lightheartedness into the cold atmosphere of the exam room.
It works well enough to ease some of Micah’s fears—or, at least, enough to still his nervously-swinging legs.
The doctor slides a mask over his face and nose.
“I suppose ‘first exam’ also means they didn’t schedule your transvaginal ultrasound prior to my appointment with you… but that’s alright. We’ll make sure we get the necessary tests performed by… ‘in-network’ specialists,” Dr. Pruitt notes, giving the impression that Micah would be seen only by physicians helping him in his goal of obtaining testosterone.
Carefully, Dr. Pruitt moves to the side of the exam table where Micah is sitting, unfolding one stirrup before doing the same on the other side, positioning them each at the correct angles. His eyes widen a little as Dr. Pruitt moves things around, extending the place where he’ll be setting his feet, his body tense in anticipation of what’s to come.
“Now, I’ll have you sit on the very edge of the table and lie back,” the doctor instructs him, patiently making a beckoning gesture with his hand to get Micah to move how he needs him to.
Micah hesitates for a moment, gaze darting from the stirrups to Dr. Pruitt’s face before slowly complying. He eases himself back, keeping his knees lifted and legs together under the modesty sheet, nervously watching as the doctor gently places his hands under the bottoms of his sock-clad feet to guide them to the stirrups.
“I’m just going to have you put these here, Micah,” says Dr. Pruitt. He has to ease his patient’s legs apart, slowly, as Micah remains tense and guarded. “Just relax, the sheet will cover your legs and everything in between down there, even while they’re apart,” he says, turning his back on Micah to push the privacy curtain back, shielding the exam table from the door.
When he turns back toward Micah, Dr. Pruitt stands beside the exam table, inching Micah forward to reach up, from further back on the reclined seat, grabbing a pillow to place behind the young man’s neck, letting him rest against it as he pulls back his hands.
The gesture is unexpected, eroding some of Micah’s trepidation, but his body remains somewhat rigid, his eyes still fixed on Dr. Pruitt as he tries to let himself calm down while in this vulnerable pose. Silently, Micah gulps back a mouthful of saliva, an involuntary response to the tension building in his chest over this impending exam.
Dr. Pruitt smiles flatly as he lets Micah get used to how he's laying.
"Would you like another pillow, maybe one to hold?" he asks, explaining, "Sometimes, patients like having something to wrap their arms around."
Another gesture, a token, now becoming more of a justification for Micah to trust him. He’s still watching Dr. Pruitt’s face for signs of mal intent but it seems more or less inscrutable, especially behind a mask now covering half his face. He swallows again, hesitating, before nodding subtly and allowing himself to slacken his shoulders against the pillow settled behind his head and neck.
Dr. Pruitt goes over to a tall wardrobe on the other side of the privacy curtain, having to gently move the curtain aside to access it. He pulls, from it, an extra pillow, which is already covered in a smooth, white pillowcase. Upon holding it out for Micah, he waits for his patient to accept.
Slowly, Micah reaches out to take it from him and hugs the pillow in his arms, squeezing it close to his chest. He relaxes slightly, knees moving apart under the modesty sheet—which, to Dr. Pruitt’s credit, did still keep him covered, despite the compromising position and the fact that he can feel cool airflow against his exposed cunt lips due to the open gap beneath his legs.
“If you’re having trouble relaxing, I can also offer you a mild sedative to ease the discomfort,” Dr. Pruitt says, taking a pair of periwinkle-colored nitrile gloves out of the dispenser beside the automatic blood pressure cuffs mounted on the wall.
Micah's eyes flicker up to Dr. Pruitt's face, his grip on the pillow tightening as he hesitates at the implication behind Dr. Pruitt’s words. He doesn’t necessarily want to be drugged. An altered state of consciousness would leave him even more vulnerable than he is now.
“Sedative?” Micah asks nervously.
“It also aids with soothing anxiety,” the doctor adds.
Micah's eyes lock onto Dr. Pruitt's, once again searching for any sign of insincerity.
“What’s the sedative?” Micah asks with hesitation.
"In this clinic, we refer to it as twilight but it isn't quite as powerful as morphine or other sedatives used for things like surgery," the doctor explains in layman's terms. "It's a muscle relaxant as well as a non-opiate analgesic and sedative. The muscle-relaxing agent in the medicine is what also helps induce an anti-anxiety effect."
Micah lingers on Dr. Pruitt, his mind racing through the idea of being given a sedative without fully understanding its effects or potential consequences.
"What are the side effects?" Micah asks warily, trying to stall for time while he weighs his options.
“A bit of drowsiness and some possible dry mouth,” Dr. Pruitt answers in a pleasant tone. “It’s also been developed specifically for people who may not react very well to traditional sedatives or anesthesia. You may also feel somewhat disoriented or dizzy as it wears off, as some of our patients have reported before but, I assure you, we’ll make sure you’re feeling alright before we stand you back up and send you home today.”
The doctor chuckles a little, offering Micah some levity in an effort to reassure him. Micah's eyes narrow slightly at the doctor's words, his mind still hung up with doubts. Dr. Pruitt then sways a little where he stands, letting Micah know that he can still refuse it.
“It’s optional, of course. But, ethically, I never conduct a pelvic exam on a tense patient. If you’d rather have this over with, I will simply warn that, without the sedative, it may take considerably longer for me to examine you,” he states plainly.
Micah's grip on the pillow tightens slightly, his racing thoughts now halting at the prospect of being forced to endure a longer examination.
“If you’d really prefer to go without the sedative, Micah, that is your choice. I will do my very best to get you to a relaxed state and keep you there as I proceed,” the doctor chimes in again, showing what seems to be a great deal of compassion on his part, at least.
Micah bites his bottom lip and worries it gently between his teeth, looking away before looking back at the doctor, weighing Dr. Pruitt’s words and unreadable expression against his own reservations.
"I... okay, yeah... can I have the sedative?" he asks, his voice small.
Dr. Pruitt nods, looking pleased.
“Absolutely, of course. I’ll have one of my nurses help me get you set up with that and then we can continue with your exam. When it’s all done, we can get you out of here as soon as the medicine wears off. Sound good to you?” he asks in an almost cheery tone.
Micah nods, his mind still nervously swimming with a persistent sense of vigilant anxiety, despite his relief.
The doctor momentarily leaves the room, returning with a nurse who, similarly to Dr. Pruitt, has a mask over his nose and mouth. He’s a tall, somewhat athletic-looking man with dark olive skin, dressed in sea-green-colored scrubs and a cap covering his hair to match.
The nurse doesn’t greet Micah, as he goes straight to the sink to wash his hands and slip into his own pair of the same nitrile gloves, but is still very gentle with him when preparing the inside of his arm with a cotton ball saturated with cold disinfectant and injecting the sedative intravenously, pushing slowly on the back of the syringe’s plunger.
After draining the dose into Micah’s arm, the nurse delicately removes the needle and presses a piece of freshly-unwrapped sterile gauze to the soft spot on the inside of Micah’s elbow, securing it just a couple of times over in some self-gripping wrap.
Dr. Pruitt speaks calmly to Micah as the sedative begins to take effect and the nurse, who Dr. Pruitt has been addressing as ‘Rob’, steps aside for him.
“We’ll wait for a moment to make sure you’re feeling totally relaxed before we begin. How about you take a few deep breaths with me?” the doctor suggests.
There’s a moment of panic as the sedative kicks in and Micah’s limbs feel as though they’ve suddenly become too heavy to lift but, as Dr. Pruitt had promised, a sense of ease settling over him. He can feel his muscles unwind, his gaze slowly drifting away from Dr. Pruitt’s masked face as he begins to breathe deeply and slowly in time with the doctor’s instruction and example.
“Breathe in… nice and deep… and let it out… there you go… let it out completely,” the doctor says.
Micah’s chest rises and falls in a gentle rhythm as he follows Dr. Pruitt’s guidance. His eyelids grow increasingly heavy and the room around him begins to blur at the periphery of his vision as the sedative takes hold of him.
“Very good,” the doctor praises. “Feeling nice and relaxed for me.”
He lets Micah rest like this for a few moments longer, assessing the tools he’ll need for the exam.
“If you feel like closing your eyes, you are welcome to do so. I’ve asked Nurse Rob to dim the lights and warm the room a little more to make you comfortable,” he informs Micah, though Micah doesn’t quite process all of what he’s saying yet, a slight delay in his understanding.
“Mmm,” Micah groans, making the only response that he can.
“Yes,” Dr. Pruitt responds, almost chuckling. “You’re nice and ready to be a good boy for me today, aren’t you?”
Micah feels as though he’s sinking into the cushioning of the padded exam table as he succumbs to the sedative’s effects. His mind is hazy but a sense of resignation washes over him like a warm wave of ocean water as he becomes more aware of the doctor’s tone and inflection. It’s a warmth that laps over him, spreading up from his hips. It feels… pleasant.
The nurse, Rob, returns to Micah’s on-and-off field of vision by the time he opens his eyes to let them drift around the room and up at the ceiling again. He carefully maneuvers Micah’s limp arms, taking the pillow from where it rests over his abdomen and folding Micah’s body forward. Micah can only make a few disjointed noises as he does this, sighing deeply as Rob stuffs the pillow under his lower back and lays him down again, gently posing Micah’s arms so that they rest on either side of his body.
“Thank you, Rob,” Dr. Pruitt tells him quietly, Micah slowly noticing that Dr. Pruitt is now speaking from between his spread legs, no longer able to see his face.
The doctor is seated on a stool, from the sound of it, which rolls and squeaks quietly as he moves it between a tray of instruments that sits beside him and the space between the stirrups. There’s the sound of a light clicking on, the examination beginning.
Micah’s thoughts fog over as his gaze once more drifts up to the ceiling. He can feel Dr. Pruitt’s gloved hands on him, acutely aware of how open he’s spread for him.
There’s a gentle sensation of pressure against his inner thighs, a softness that makes him shiver despite the warmth in the room. It’s a shiver that makes his toes weakly curling against the stirrups.
Dr. Pruitt lifts part of the modesty sheet, folding the fabric over at Micah’s knees. Micah feels himself clench at that.
“Now, Micah, I’m going to begin with the palpation. The lube I’ll be using for you has been warmed. You might feel a little squirt of liquid, here,” the doctor says, the nozzle of a plastic tube sitting right at his vaginal entrance, excreting something warm and wet inside of him.
Dr. Pruitt’s gloved fingers against his skin, against his sex, gently probing his labia, is almost pleasurable under the influence of the medicine. At the very least, it is soothing.
“I’ll now be inserting my fingers… and using my other hand to press down on your lower abdomen, okay?” the doctor says to him even though, at this point, Micah’s responses are limited to single-syllable groans.
It’s hard for him to think through the twilight-induced haze but Micah can feel himself somehow becoming more and more pliable under Dr. Pruitt’s touch.
Two smooth, slick fingers slowly enter Micah’s pussy, massaging the inner walls of his vagina to spread lubricant. After the doctor has circled his hole from the inside, Dr. Pruitt withdraws his fingers to slather some of the excess lubricant over Micah’s vulva.
It’s almost like a massage, like this, Micah thinks.
He lets out a soft, involuntary whimper as the doctor’s fingers leave him and re-enter him again, feeling Dr. Pruitt’s other hand press down against his belly, just below his belly button.
“You’re doing great, Micah,” Dr. Pruitt says in a smooth, low voice, almost like the narrator of his very own, personalized meditation track.
The doctor’s fingers press against Micah’s anatomy, feeling his insides for tender spots or abnormalities, praising Micah sweetly as he does so, feeling his reflexive clenching, the young man’s pussy tensing at the stimulation only to further relax as he subjects him to more gentle ministrations.
“Very good, Micah. Everything feels like it’s in tip-top shape down here,” Dr. Pruitt reports.
He’s felt Dr. Pruitt’s fingers rub against his G-spot nearly a dozen times now, knuckles grazing the micro-ridged texture over and over again but retreating each time Micah’s cunt flexed—as if his pussy were unconsciously trying to draw the doctor in and keep him there until it got what it wanted.
“Hm,” the doctor hums in thought, then asks, “Getting a little bit worked up, are we, Micah?”
Experimentally, Dr. Pruitt rests the pad of his gloved thumb against the underside of Micah’s engorged clitoris and slowly begins rubbing it up and down, the tiny glans bobbing in and out of the clitoral hood with each press.
He hears Micah’s breath catch in his throat as the slick friction. Something sparks there, between the doctor’s thumb and Micah’s precious and sensitive little bundle of nerves, something deep within his core.
The wave of warmth rushes over him again like foamy sea water, an unmistakable electric rush flowing up his spine, making him shiver again.
“A natural response,” Dr. Pruitt says, again in low dulcet tones. “Let yourself relax and enjoy the sensations as you feel them… good boy, that’s it.”
The doctor had long since removed his other hand from Micah’s abdomen, Micah’s ever-so-slightly anteverted uterus and ripe, healthy ovaries having ‘passed’ the palpation with flying colors, his pelvic floor muscles already prodded for reactivity.
He can feel Micah’s cunt growing hotter around his intruding fingers, the patient’s own vaginal slick running in with the lubricant Dr. Pruitt had warmed him up with.
Withdrawing his fingers yet again to moisten the lips of Micah’s sex anew, the doctor’s pair of fingers are re-inserted; they hook inward as Dr. Pruitt concentrates more intently, this time, on Micah’s g-spot.
Gloved fingertips firmly begin almost petting him there, the motion steady and repetitive.
Micah’s head lolls to the side, his slow and rhythmic breaths becoming heavier. His body continues instinctively responding, despite the alarm this sudden change in operations should have been causing him.
Dr. Pruitt is pulling him under, like a hypnotist guides a subject of hypnosis. Each stroke of his fingers against his sex, inside and out, triggers his brain to release more feel-good hormones which, in turn, makes him hotter, wetter, closer…
“Rob,” Dr. Pruitt says calmly, “Would you kindly get our patient’s clothes out of the way and begin stimulating his chest? Gently, please.”
As per Dr. Pruitt’s orders, the nurse undoes the buttons of Micah’s shirt, folding aside the sides of the opened garment to reveal his bare breasts.
Nurse Rob places his own gloved hands over the soft mounds of flesh and muscle, cupping them from underneath, his thumbs pointing toward Micah’s sternum as he massages them in his hands. The nipples are slightly firm and distended from the doctor’s erotic touch, Micah’s whole body reacting to the gratification-promising sensations that his drugged state is allowing him to feel.
Micah’s eyelids flutter. If his eyes had been open, Nurse Rob would have seen them roll back into their sockets. His body feels worked over, like a sculpture being molded out of clay. Drawing in a long, tight breath, he can’t help but moan as he exhales. Micah’s body is a vessel into which pleasure is meant to be poured.
“I noticed, on your intake forms…” Dr. Pruitt speaks up again, now addressing Micah, “...that your last period ended two weeks ago.”
The doctor’s left hand still stimulates his patient from within, his right now massaging the labia, cyclically pulling back the hood of the young man’s clitoris.
“I may not have the rectal thermometer handy,” Dr. Pruitt chuckles, “but, judging by how hot you feel, you are almost certainly ovulating.”
Micah’s thoughts are a mess, mind swimming as he struggles to put two and two together. It feels like Dr. Pruitt and his nurse are churning his brain into mush like this, stirring him up by the cunt and tits.
His body is a separate creature now, responding in kind to the stimulation being provided to it, the doctor and his nurse further encouraged by the reactions being elicited from it. Micah’s clit and cunt throb in sync with the beating of his heart.
Dr. Pruitt chuckles some more, watching his helpless, sex-dumbed patient losing himself in his reactions, as if he can see the disconnection between rational thought and mindless bliss happening in real time. A trickle of drool runs out of the corner of Micah’s mouth, pooling on the pillow beneath his head.
“My father… fought in the War of Unification, you know…” the doctor grunts and sighs with some effort.
Dr. Pruitt’s hands are working Micah’s cunt like a fucking machine as he begins to dictate his little speech to the young man splayed out in front of him, the boy he’s going to be the first to shape into what he was meant to be.
“I’m not sure what people your age learn in school, these days, about the War… but… I assure you… you are far from the first I’ve intercepted…” the doctor explains between even breaths, “Confused breeders… the ones who try to sterilize themselves, with the hormones and surgeries… before they’ve done anything to contribute to our society, to re-populate our country… refusing their natural roles, their duties…”
Micah feels the depths he’s sinking into, and they are growing darker, a sudden and involuntary chill sending a jolt up his spine as the doctor’s hands begin to move faster, threatening to bring him up to the spilling point.
Dr. Pruitt and Nurse Rob are relentless, Rob’s hands now kneading Micah’s tits like balls of dough, his muscles so malleable.
“Over the years, I’ve guided scores of breeders in denial like yourself... helped them find the way… the way back to their purpose…” the doctor continues.
His hands move faster and faster, impatiently trying to milk an imminent orgasm out of Micah’s pussy. He’s so close… he’s so close.
Stuffed inside him, manipulating him like a puppeteer controls the strings of a puppet, Dr. Pruitt fingers Micah’s G-spot with unforgiving strokes this time, pushing firmly into his patient’s cunt even as the tension mounts in his core, squeezing the doctor’s invading jack-hammer jabs with vice-like grip.
Micah feels like he’s about to burst. His body trembles with anticipation, tightly strung and winding tighter, every cell in his body screaming for release, moaning impotently. Dr. Pruitt is in control. Dr. Pruitt is going to make him cum.
His senses narrow to a single point, his whole world shrinking down to that fire of a feeling coiling inside him, about to snap. The pressure builds and builds with each stroke and grope and twitch until he can’t hold it in anymore.
“Ah-!” Micah yelps, his legs shaking against the stirrups that hold them apart.
Micah’s orgasm crashes over him with the violent force of a tidal wave, his pussy spasming around the doctor’s fingers, each contraction of muscle grabbing them pulling them tightly, as if trying to suck them deeper inside. His body, a sedative-addled slab of meat possessed by his scrambled electrical impulses, bucks and spasms, unintelligible noise rising up in his throat, words beyond him now.
By the time he’s finished cumming, his cunt is soaking wet, still throbbing—and, like the rest of his body, hot, twitching, and needy.
Dr. Pruitt hums contentedly, withdrawing his hands. He stands, walking over to the tall trash can, and changes his gloves. When he returns to his stool, he sits himself back down and fiddles with something on the tray of instruments.
“Now to get that Pap smear,” he mutters.
Micah’s eyes open slowly, gaze drifting from the ceiling to Rob’s masked face and back to the ceiling again as he tries and fails to process what has just happened. His body feels like it’s humming, a new and different feeling of warmth radiating from his hips.
Rob hasn’t stopped massaging Micah’s tits. His touch has returned to a slow pace, the squishing of his breasts in the nurse’s hands much more gentle than it had been at the peak of his orgasm. Slowly, Micah’s eyes flutter closed again.
Something slips into Micah, something smooth. It enters him and feels as though it reaches all the way back, all the way inside him.
“Nnh,” he groans quietly at the intrusion, a little sigh escaping his lips. “Ugh…”
Dr. Pruitt adjusts the plastic speculum inside Micah, a little surge of pride rising up behind his eyes as he begins to spread his patient’s vagina, exposing the beautiful organ at the end of his wet, pink vaginal canal.
“Just a little pressure, I know, I know… it’ll be over soon. I’ll make this quick. Just have to make sure we do this for you first,” Dr. Pruitt coos.
Micah groans, sounding uncomfortable.
“There we go. So good for me, aren't you? Isn’t this much better than a metal one, dear?” the doctor then asks, his tone heavy with condescension, the questions rhetorical.
There’s a slight tickle against his gaping walls as the thin, cell-collecting bristled wand enters Micah’s vagina and bumps against his cervix, then inside. The stretch that accompanied the speculum’s width spreading him open was already cramp-inducing in spite of the muscle relaxant.
Poor, sensitive Micah…
The wand probes his cervix and Micah whines again, his breath coming in short panting gasps. But, before he has to feel it for much longer, Dr. Pruitt extracts the wand, collects the Pap sample, and slowly loosens the speculum wedged inside him.
Micah feels some relief as the pressure eases, finally heaving a deep breath and relaxing again into his default, sedated state despite his mind still reeling. Was it over, yet?
Dr. Pruitt stands up again and walks over to the counter on the other side of the room, setting the cervical cell sample down, moving it out of the way, and pulling the instrument cart in that direction, too. When he returns to his place between Micah’s legs, the doctor moves the stool aside and adjusts something on the exam table, bringing it lower by maybe fifteen centimeters. When it stops there, Dr. Pruitt begins to speak again, apparently having caught his breath.
“Before any more time is wasted, we ought to get you seeded,” he says, mostly talking to himself than to Micah.
His senses finally snag on something. The doctor’s words are like a cold splash of water on his numb and disoriented psyche but his limbs are still heavy and useless, Micah’s body still very much sedated. Helpless. Trapped.
“Uhn... nngh,” Micah groans breathily.
“Now, now,” Dr. Pruitt says, easily speaking over Micah’s whimpers with his cool, calm, and perfectly collected voice. “You had your fun already, sweetheart, with your little gap at eighteen… but this process should have started a year ago. We’re going to fix that and make up for lost time… won’t let this perfectly good womb of yours go to waste, now, will we?”
Nurse Rob has taken a seat, now, on the lowered and reclined exam table, Micah’s head situated between his legs. He reaches down Micah’s chest to continue kneading his breasts, this time gently pinching the young man’s nipples between his fingers when stretching his tits between upward squeezes.
Micah’s whimpering grows louder. Or, at least, as loud as he can force the noises out of his mouth. He’s so weak, still. With nothing that he can do to stop this from happening, Micah shuts his eyes only for them to snap back open as Nurse Rob’s fingers pinch his nipples again and send a brief jolt of dull pain through his chest.
“Nn… nuh…” Micah groans in an attempt to protest. But, even as Nurse Rob continues squeezing Micah’s nipples in alternation, his reaction to the sensation is quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread as he realizes what the doctor intends to do next.
Dr. Pruitt, meanwhile, is already injecting Micah’s pussy with another squirt of warmed lubricant. His cock, which had, for the past half-hour, been tenting in his slacks, was now springing free from its constraints.
“When the War of Unification ended, Micah… millions had been slaughtered…” he says, “Breeding is mandated by law here for a reason.”
Dr. Pruitt takes the time to generously lube the thick shaft of his circumcised dick.
“Young people like you, the ones who try to shrug off their biological obligations, or run away from them entirely… you’re traitors to your country.”
Micah’s eyes are wide open but his vision is still hazy with the effects of the twilight, his body as limp as if it were boneless, his limbs heavy and unresponsive no matter how loudly his inner voice screams for this not to happen, Micah’s mind begging his body to wake up.
Dragging his cock up and down against Micah’s sex, Dr. Pruitt finally makes eye contact with his patient, even if only for a brief moment. He wants to see the young man’s face when he enters him.
The stimulation from the head of Dr. Pruitt’s member, running over Micah’s slick-covered slit, sends a pang of revulsion through him but he can’t move. He can’t do anything to stop this.
“As that old Oswean saying goes... The only way to handle a traitor… is to betray them back,” he grins behind his face mask, a twinkle of pity shimmering in his dark eyes.
Aligning himself with Micah’s entrance, the subtly-tapered head of Dr. Pruitt’s cock presses into his patient.
“Gods, you are tight… so, so tight for me,” the doctor mutters, one of his hands holding his rod while the other goes to Micah’s clit, circling the sensitive nubbin with renewed motivation. "Good boy... yes... so tight for me."
Dr. Pruitt’s words reverberate through Micah’s mind like a cruel mantra, each one punctuated by more manual foreplay meant to make him more cooperative, more willing.
The doctor’s shaft enters Micah, stretching the young man’s pussy from the inside. He goes slowly, trying to savor how tightly the boy’s cunt is hugging his dick. It’s almost too much. Dr. Pruitt wonders, briefly, just how long he’ll be able to last inside of him.
Micah’s body feels like it’s being split in two, his inner walls screaming in protest as Dr. Pruitt’s cock pushes deeper and deeper inside of him.
He can’t believe this is happening, that he’s being used like an animal, like breeding stock, forced to submit to his own violation. Tears prickle at Micah’s eyes, his jaw clenched shut. As if reading his mind, Nurse Rob continues his ministrations, squeezing both handfuls of Micah’s breasts in sequence, as if he were tugging at the udders of a cow. It’s pure insult to injury.
Micah’s mind retreats in horror, recoiling as the sensation only adds to the oppressive and inescapable feeling of degradation, the twilight-haze of helplessness holding him prisoner.
When Dr. Pruitt bottoms out, finally sheathing himself entirely inside Micah, he lets out a low groan of satisfaction. Involuntarily, and much to Micah’s disgust, he feels himself clench around the intrusion. Dr. Pruitt’s cock throbs in response. The doctor is filling him up, stuffing Micah with his own flesh. And, soon, he would be filling him with his seed.
Bracing himself against Micah, Dr. Pruitt’s hands grab at either side of his patient’s hips. Slowly, he withdraws his cock, now glistening with lubricant and precum and Micah’s own secretions of arousal, before pushing himself back inside, as if sawing himself into him.
“Ohh, yes,” the doctor whispers. “Take me. Take all of me… it's what you were made for.”
Micah’s emotions scatter, his body a slave to his own cunt right now, that stupid hot mass of twitching flesh between his legs, as Dr. Pruitt begins to thrust into him, establishing a rhythm and picking up the pace.
He feels like he’s being broken, like the doctor’s cock were reaching deep inside of him and touching his soul, tearing it apart each time the head of his long, fat dick grazes his cervix. It feels like he’s being eaten alive from the inside. The doctor’s cock claims him as its own; it burrows deep, into his very being, and claims him.
In and out, at an agonizing pace, Dr. Pruitt’s sperm-laden balls slap against Micah’s ass cheeks each time the doctor pounds into him. His thrusts are hard, long, and getting quicker by the second. Each pathetic slap is a reminder to Micah that he is at the mercy of this man who had promised to help him… this monster who claims to be a healer.
Nurse Rob, still toying with his tits, doesn’t help. If he’d had more control over his faculties, if he weren't so high on twilight, Micah would’ve been weeping by now.
The doctor ravages Micah, cock ramming deep into his cunt each time he lifts his hips to draw himself out of his patient. As Dr. Pruitt pistons his length inside of him, Micah’s sopping hole squelches lewdly with each collision.
The sound of their wet flesh slapping together fills the room along with the smell of pussy.
Just when Micah’s senses were becoming overwhelmed, the doctor re-positions himself and moves, now, to brace his supportive right hand against the exam table, where it’s then nestled cozily between the cushion of the table and the cushion of Micah’s nice, pert ass. His left hand returns to Micah’s clitoris, where he begins to rub his thumb and fingers in earnest.
The spark inside Micah ignites again, his need yet to be fulfilled. In spite of himself, the doctor’s insistent touch makes him come alive. Humiliation wars with arousal wars with rage in his head.
Determined to draw another orgasm out of Micah, Dr. Pruitt hastens the speed of his thrusts in time with his stimulation of his patient’s clit, rubbing deliberately and in circles.
Micah‘s core begins to tighten, the hot coiling feeling magnified as Dr. Pruitt ruts into him, absolutely burying himself in the velvety embrace of Micah’s cunt. The doctor’s touch locks Micah in a twisted dance of pleasure and pain, his mind trying to shut out its own conflicting desires as the sensations demand to be felt. His nerves are on fire. Dr. Pruitt’s cock feels as though it will burn him from the inside out.
The thought of climaxing around Dr. Pruitt’s big, fat dick fills Micah with shame and disgust but, not only does it seem to be inevitable, he finds himself wanting it, his body chasing it.
Against his will, Micah knows that his body wants to cum again. And it’s going to cum, whether Micah wants to or not.
Finally, as the doctor forces his hips against Micah’s, furiously rubbing the young man’s clitoris, he erupts inside of his patient, flooding his pussy with hot spurts of semen.
With Dr. Pruitt’s cock still pulsing inside of him, Micah is forced to orgasm as the doctor’s fingers bring him past the breaking point. Micah’s cunt ripples and contracts, once again, the wet sleeve of organ flesh spasming around the doctor’s softening length still lodged inside of him.
When Dr. Pruitt Finally steps back, letting his cock fall out of his patient’s used hole, he reaches for the pillow wedged under Micah’s back, pulling it toward himself to raise his patient’s hips up higher, tilting the exam table back a little further to keep Micah elevated as he cleans himself up.
Nurse Rob, finally abandoning Micah’s tits, stands from his position to begin cleaning up the exam room, simultaneously preparing another syringe with liquid from a vial.
Micah can barely see what’s happening, his vision still blurry. He’s still stuck in a daze. The sounds of the doctor’s idle chatter with the nurse and both of their movements in the room are more distant, to him, than they actually are. Muffled, as if he’s hearing them from underwater. Micah can only lie there, powerless and vulnerable, as they tend to him without any regard for his feelings about his wildly unceremonious insemination.
He feels his arm being moved, turned over, as cold disinfectant is spread across a patch of skin on his forearm once more.
“Mmnnh,” Micah groans from behind his closed lips.
“Shh,” whispers Dr. Pruitt, softly hushing him.
Nurse Rob bends down with another needle, Micah wincing inwardly at the brief pinch as it enters him mere centimeters lower than the jab that put him in this sedated condition.
Just like last time, Rob carefully removes the needle from his arm, presses a pad of gauze to the injection site, and dutifully wraps it.
“Quiet, now… go to sleep. They’ll take very good care of you, where you’re going.”
It’s the last thing Micah hears before slowly blacking out.