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Jun 7

MRI Scans and Body Worship

summary: After being admitted to Rhodes for body dysmorphia, your MRI technician, Dr. Victor Gideon, shows you how beautiful you truly are.

includes: Victor Gideon/gender-neutral reader, body dysphoria/dysmorphia, body worship, fluff, smut, praise kink, dubious consent, cock warming, size difference, power imbalance, masturbation, nipple play, possessiveness, voyeurism, groping, medical inaccuracies, improper use of MRI machine and contrast fluid

words: 5.7k

a/n: the body dysphoria is intentionally vague, and not specific to weight, gender, etc. it’s only described as feeling alien in your own body

AO3 Link

Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center was like any other hospital you’ve been imprisoned by. Impossibly tall walls were stained yellow with age. The nurses had eyebags so heavy, that it dragged their faces into permanent frowns. There was a comfy enough cot, the blanket intermittently switched with a heated alternate. You even made a few surface-level friends with some other patients during group therapy.

But if it felt so similar, why were you so uncomfortable?

Because no matter where you were, under supervision or not, you were still trapped inside what you’re forced to call ‘your own’ flesh and blood.

You’ve never felt comfortable in your own skin. The reflection that looked back at you queued a million pop-ups in your brain: pointing out parts of your body that were wrong and ugly. Even though Rhodes refuses to provide mirrors to their patients, the thoughts never went away. You can’t even lay in your own bed without noticing how disjointed and foreign your limbs feel.

Feeling wrong in your body, and seeing its faults when showering every morning? The lack of mirrors didn’t help for shit.

The nurses and other patients tried their best, really. But there is always a split second of hesitation that others take when meeting you. Their eyes skitter across your form, sternum high as they hold in a worried breath. You’re used to people pretending they don’t notice what you already feel.

And forcing your body to contort to your ‘ideal image’? That’s what hospitalized you in the first place.

Your dangerous itches have subsided since. Not due to treatment, but by the overwhelming sorrow that nobody will see you for who you truly are. So why waste the energy trying to change what seemingly can’t be fixed?

Especially in a shapeless, swallowing hospital gown, there’s nothing you can do to modify your appearance. Understandably, the nurses refuse to give you any kind of clothing or jewelry. It’s a threat and potential weapon to most, but to you, it’s an aid. Forced into a blob of fabric, your skin crawls with each second that you cannot control your appearance.

No style. No colors. No fabricated shapes to modify your silhouette.

Just…….flesh.

It’s gotten to the point that your eyes glaze over with every new appointment. You can feel the silent assumptions from miles away, and prefer to feel eyes burn the back of your head rather than seeing them critique you in real time.

With as many patients as the Rhodes staff serves, you wouldn’t be surprised if some of the doctors address you by the wrong name. And at this point? You couldn’t care less. Proper name or not, it’s not going to change how you feel like an alien in your own body. And the doctors wont help you cope either way.

————

There’s a lot of other patients at Rhodes with body dysmorphia. Each under different circumstances, of course, but it’s become routine to have bodily inspections daily. The nurses claim it’s to make sure nobody is harming themselves or showing signs of disordered eating.

But they have to know how it feels to showcase the body you hate……right?

Even more of a reason to mentally check out during each appointment. You’d rather not waste energy on it anymore, only speaking when spoken to and refusing small talk with the staff. Serves best to everyone involved anyways. Just in and out, trying to forget however they poked and prodded at you that morning.

You don’t even know if you wish for a different body, at this point. You just want to be seen for who you are, not for what you are.

That’s what lead you to today’s appointment: an MRI scan.

Alongside the surface-level bodily inspections, the staff insists on having weekly scans to make sure we aren’t doing any harm to our organs.

There’s a certain point that this goes beyond your dysmorphia, because are they trying to give you new ideas???? But then again, there were some other patients who bound their chests without a proper binder and fucked their thoracic organs up. To each their own, you just want to get in and out as quickly as you can.

Entering the bay, you take a sigh of relief to see that Dr. Victor Gideon is operating your scan today. Again, you aren’t crazy about the staff here, but it was always comforting to be with another……..unconventional-looking person. Seriously, how could a 9 foot tall, scaly, gray-skinned man judge you for your body? He was never the type.

The doctor flashed his gold teeth at you, clasping your right hand inside both of his.

“I’m pleased to see you, today. I presume you’re feeling well?”

You scoffed. Feeling well? Yeah, right. Not wanting to get on his bad side, you gave a consolation laugh and a nod.

Victor took the bait, pleased as always.

“Right……well then, why don’t I sit you down on the table here so we can get started, hm?” The man placed his heavy hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the large, tubular machine sat in the middle of the room.

You weren’t unfamiliar with MRIs, having done a few during your short time at Rhodes. First, lay on the cold table, they whisk you inside the claustrophobic tube, you listen to some music through their headphones to drown out the droning of the machine, you wait forever and try not to imagine the doctor looking at your bodily photos with disgust, the table pulls you back out, and you leave.

Easy as it can be.

Despite your familiarity, Victor insists on explaining the process to you. “I know you’ve done this many times before, darling, but forgive a doctor for wanting his patient to feel comfortable in such a…….sterile environment.”

You felt a chill run down your spine at the pet name. Doctors usually talked to you like you were made of glass, but it felt different coming from Victor. He’s a stickler about time, so him taking a few extra minutes to talk you through it? You couldn’t help but feel a little special.

Once instructions were clear, Dr. Gideon helped you settle onto the plastic tray. You could very much situate yourself, but he insisted on being the one to tuck you into the braces. He left featherlight touches, despite having horribly cracked hands, as he lifted each of your limbs into the Velcro straps. You just closed your eyes, feeling a little touch starved but not wanting to actually think about the sensations in your horrid body.

Until, you felt cold metal drag across your cheekbones. Startled, you flick open your eyes to see Victor delicately brushing your hair out of your face, his silver rings sparking chills across your skin. A beat passes, and you swear he stifles a smile. His deep cavern-like scars lead your eyes down his lips, dancing across the softness of his jaw, and following its lead down his thick neck.

Fuck. You’ve been staring.

Your eyes clamp shut again, pretending like you weren’t drinking in the sight of your doctor……who just so happens to be mounted over you……bounding you in place with his large, warm hands.

“….aaaand, you are all set, darling.”

Snap the fuck out of it. You’re literally hospitalized right now, get a grip.

Victor slides a pair of headphones over your ears as you brace to start moving into the machine. He pats the back of your hand gently before moving to the operation booth.

His soft voice seeps through the headphones. “Alright, you’re going to feel some slight movement as the machine pulls you in, but it’s impeccable you stay still for me, yes?”

You verbalize a response, if he can even hear you. Victor trusts you, regardless.

Droning hums whir around your head, and you can only visualize the inner mechanisms circling your relaxed body. Just as the buzzing starts to get annoying, some music starts playing through your headphones. It’s the radio station that you always request, too.

Of course Dr. Gideon would remember your music taste, not even needing to ask. His monstrous appearance trumps his character in others’ eyes, but the man is truly very perceptive.

With tunes to focus on, and your body forced to relax inside the restraints, you slowly drift in and out of sleep. It’s all you can do, really, although odd to feel at peace inside a human-sized container.

The music crackles to a halt, stirring you out of sleep.

“We’re about halfway through, dear, you’re being so well behaved for me.”

You know he means well, but the doctor has effectively reminded you that your disgusting body is under close examination. You can’t run from it, you can’t hide it. Literally, someone is analyzing photos of the flesh that you hate…..picking apart its abnormalities. And you can’t do anything to influence what he sees or how he feels about it.

So much for catching some sleep.

What if your organs were as disfigured as the rest of you felt? How many nurses would keel in disgust when showed your scans? Could they even bother to face you after seeing them? Maybe the photos would be passed around the break room, each doctor getting the chance to point and laugh at how disgusting your body was.

Dr. Gideon’s voice, yet low and mumbled, pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Look at you…..such a marvel. So intricately beautiful.”

Victor never switched from his mic back to the radio station. No wonder you were drowning in your thoughts

You felt your heart quicken through your ribs.

“How could someone be so unique, yet so….textbook?”

Was there an assistant joining him that you missed meeting? Who could he possibly be talking to?

“These scans, I’ll kill any technician that lays their petulant finger on this work of art.”

The MRI images must develop in real-time for the doctors. But you can’t imagine he’d speak of you this way…..let alone a doctor speaking this way of his patient.

“This……figure……this specimen…..I know you’d be reaaaaal pretty wrapped around me.”

You hear a faint shlicking noise behind Victor’s voice. A wet ~plap~ punctuates each noise, as if skin hits skin. A deep, guttural groan rings through your ears, sounding as if he’s struggling to withhold volume.

“Each ounce of flesh…….~nnngh~….. molded by gods…..~nnngh~…. so tightly wound, yet curved with…..~nnngh~…such elegance…..~nnngh~”

Unsure whether to take the praise or escape from being perceived, you’re trapped and forced to face the attention regardless. The last thing you want is to redo this whole invasive process again. You need these scans complete. You need to know that you’re healthy. And if this is what you have to endure to get your results…..

“I’d do anything to feel this precious body go limp in my grasp. I could recognize you anywhere, even from deep inside you.”

He’d know you even without seeing your face? But even so…..he thinks your body is worthy enough to be called ‘precious’??

The slick sounds pick up their pace, now joined by creaking wood as body weight thrusts into (what you assume to be) a nearby desk.

Forced to hear your doctor jacking off to images of your internal organs, it doesn’t hurt to imagine how desperate the large, powerful man is. Wondering if he’d need both hands to wrap around his length, or if he ran his forked tongue along his thick fingers to lube up before stroking himself to the sight of you. Even with each sound of his hands hitting his wet skin, how plump would his balls be…..swelling and popping seams with his hot seed?

“Don’t…..move……gonna……come…..” Victor lets out stuttered, throaty grunts as syrupy liquid splats against his desk. He grants himself a few more wet shlicks, desperately milking and splattering the leftover cum until he runs dry. The doctor’s overstimulated grunts pool heat in your stomach.

Oh fuck. Hopefully he doesn’t realize he left the mic on. Not that you didn’t enjoy the show, but it would make the rest of this appointment incredibly awkward.

You hear Victor steady his breath and zip up his leather trousers. Then silence settles as you scramble to conduct a script; mentally preparing to act like this didn’t just happen.

Before you realize, a chapped hand brushes against your ankle. There doctor gives you a light tap, signaling that the motorized table is about to roll you back out.

Now you’re the one trying to steady your breath.

Except, he doesn’t remove his hand from your ankle. Slowly, the table slides you out, with you immobilized on top of it, and Victor’s hovering hand runs up the outside of your leg in the process.

His dominant hand, that is. The hand that you swear is a little damp, maybe even a little sticky. The hand that you just listened to him fuck himself senseless with.

That hand leaves your skin briefly, only to brush atop the restraints he used to bound you beneath him.

Still refusing to remove his hand, Victor now graces your thigh, consequently lifting the hem of your gown ever so slightly.

The table halts.

You’re fully out of the machine, trapped and completely under his mercy.

Both of your eyes are forced to lock.

Victor peels his gray lips back, offering a gentle smile.

“Welcome back, darling, how are you feeling?”

————

It’s been about a week since your MRI appointment with Dr. Victor Gideon. You’re not sure whether you want to remember the rest of it or not.

Regardless, today you were called into his office for a follow-up appointment. You never had to go this far with your MRI scans, as having a consultation afterwards usually meant there was something in the photos that needed to be dealt with. And not in a good way.

Great. Not only will you be forced to look at the useless hunk of flesh you call a body, but now you will be forced to listen to someone pick at its abnormalities.

One of the nurses led you to a set of tall wooden doors. You assumed they led to Victor’s office, although you hadn’t been inside before. The towering infrastructure brought nothing but chills of anxiety. How could a set of doors make you feel so small and helpless?

The nurse knocked on the dark wood, calling to Victor to announce your presence. They didn’t even have to finish their sentence before he flung open the doors. You jumped at the notion, but the doctor just stood over you with a soft smile.

“Welcome, little one, we have so much to discuss.”

The nurse rolled their eyes and left for their next appointment, clearly used to Victor’s shenanigans.

Dr. Gideon quickly whisked you inside his office, bolting the doors shut behind you. For such a sleazy looking man, he sure had expensive taste. A red carpet with ornamental print filled the center of the room, leading you to his executive desk. Bookshelves even taller than Victor traced the perimeter of the room, where thousands of textbooks glimmered with golden spines. Making your way to the desk, you passed a velvet couch on one side, and a small dining room set on the other. Clearly, this is where the important staff meetings take place.

As you both reach his desk, you noticed the framed achievements hanging behind it. A group photo of Victor and his first team of researchers, his doctorate diploma, a few news articles honoring his research, and some framed black and white anatomical photos. Truly, this man lives and breathes his work.

The doctor pulled out a small, cushioned chair in front of his desk for you to sit in. If you felt overpowered before? Now sitting, his desk rose above your eye-level, clearly custom-built to suit Victor’s large stature.

He began to speak as he rounded the desk to his own chair. “I don’t mean to frighten you, darling, cause I know this process can get quite…….tedious.”

There he goes again, almost oblivious with the pet names. Regardless, you nervously pick at your fingernails as your hands rest in your lap, making a conscious decision to do so below his field of vision.

“I assure you, no abnormalities came from your wonderful scans……” He spins in his chair to face the wall behind him, delicately brushing one of the anatomical photos hung there.

“In fact, I’m quite fascinated, really.”

You tilt your head in confusion. Fascination coming from a doctor? That still doesn’t always mean good. Especially when talking about your body.

A beat passed before Victor spun back to meet your gaze, clearly expecting a response. But you’re clearly expecting clarification.

Feeling intimidated under his snake-eyes stare, you’re forced to break the ice. “I-I-I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand. Fascinated…..like in a……bad…..way?”

Victor leans over the desk, his broad figure engulfing your vision. He smirks like he can’t contain his own words, but is using every ounce of energy to ensure he speaks with intelligence.

“Little one, I fear I haven’t been concise with you. Fascination, as in, captured by your beauty, by how unique yet perfect your body is.”

You just stare at him. Nobody, not even yourself, uses the words ‘beauty’ and ‘perfect’ to describe your figure. Your appearance drives you away from any and every mirror. Every interaction with others, you’re left obsessing over their facial expressions, desperately wondering if they were silently judging you. ‘Unique’??? You don’t know what it meant to feel beautifully unique, only weirdly unique as in being an alien amongst the crowd.

You didn’t have to verbalize any of it before Victor grabbed your hand and whipped you around the desk. Now seeing the photo up close, you notice a label in the bottom right corner with last week’s date and…..your name.

He framed…..a scan of your body…….in his office……alongside his achievements??

“I can tell it’s a lot to take in, but just relax for me. I will show you.” Victor pointed a finger at your left shoulder in the photo, and placed his alternate hand on your actual, real left shoulder. He traced along your skin, taking time to describe each and every biological perfection of your body. As one finger danced along the photo, the other grazed across your skin to mirror its path.

Victor made note of how your rounded shoulder posture reflected your social, introverted tendencies. He pointed out how your chest muscles seemed a bit tight, and attributed it to your anxiousness triggered by the medical appointment. He even noticed how your lower back was stiff, saying it can attribute to your compulsiveness and need to escape.

Victor wasn’t showing how your posture or bone structure was wrong. He was just describing how your body reflects…..you. All of these years, feeling lost inside a senseless vessel, and Dr. Gideon proved to you that your body is communicating itself without you having to will it to. And that it is the most beautiful anatomy he has ever seen because it reflects your personality.

Despite it all, his hands never left their intended path.

It didn’t even matter when he reached your chest, falling down your sternum to compliment your lung capacity. Or, when his hand fell further down your body to grip your hip bones and praise your plush womb. Victor didn’t even have to look at you to know where to place his hand. He also didn’t have to look at your facial expressions to read how you were feeling: it was written all over your bodily photos. The man had your body and emotions mapped out in his mind like he’s held and studied you for years.

It’s probably best, though, that his eyes stayed glued to the photo, and away from your very flushed, very heated face.

Resisting your body for so long, you spent every waking second trying to distract yourself from the feeling of your own flesh. Even when showering, your hands dragging along your skin was just a constant reminder of how your body was nothing but a foreign container to house the person others will never see. The less you felt and saw, was always the better.

But feeling the dexterous hands of Dr. Gideon, someone who values their hands above any patient of staff member in his own hospital? For once, you felt comfortable to be inside your body. Hearing someone so accomplished and honest as Victor shower you with compliments while holding your body as if it was a precious stone? You felt seen. It didn’t erase every insecurity, but it helped give yourself some grace. Especially hearing that your physical attributes hold more weight than just beauty: they hold readable, tangible emotions.

Victor never lies to his patients, you’ve heard him ramble about how it goes against their entire moral code to help others. So for him to speak so highly of your appearance? Clearly, he saw something that you didn’t.

Dr. Gideon was lucky that you were currently having a revelation, and weren’t focused on how it feels to be held after being touch starved for so long. The feeling of his cold-blooded skin against yours grounded you, but certainly was a large reason you so willingly accepted his praise.

Eventually, you were brought back to earth when both of his chiseled yet chapped hands lifted your gaze to meet his. The back of your skull almost hit your spine with how far you had to tilt to catch the monstrously tall man’s eyes.

“I know this process can be rigorous for you, little one, but I’m itching to see how else this gorgeous body of yours looks like.” With his scaly thumbs rubbing circles into your jaw, you felt drunk on compliments. And you needed more.

The MRI process was never that bad to you, anyways.

————

With the second round started, and you now loaded into the machine, Victor pumped your veins with contrast fluid so he could photograph your blood flow.

Little did you know, he had an ulterior motive to the contrast.

Last week, when watching the scans develop, he felt plagued by your organs. In an instant, he was obsessed with the thought of having complete control over such a pretty specimen. Mostly? He wanted to see a part of himself run through those delicate little veins of yours.

Victor felt insatiable then, imagining his blood, DNA, and cum running through your taut muscle. So while he did masturbate due to the raw appeal of your body, he also needed a vial of his own cum. One that he could discretely mix into the contrast fluid, and pump into your pretty body.

Even when feeding the IV into your veins, watching them pulse helplessly under his grasp, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. Victor reveled in the ways your pupils dilated when looking up at him. And he knew damn well they swelled before the fluid entered your system. That was pure, unadulterated, need in your eyes. No side effects present.

As you lied, bound inside the machine, Victor stood in the control room to watch incoming scans. The cursor ticked from left to right across his computer, leaving colored splotches in its path. Soon, enough rows were complete to make out the image of your relaxed form. Unlike last week’s black and white scans, this week had blots of color due to the contrast fluid.

Your body was literally immortalized, glowing with his seed.

And he was rock hard at the sight.

Victor made sure to leave on the microphone again, pouring his wanton sounds through your headphones as he palmed his groin.

He let out a deep groan at the contact, watching through the window as your feet jolted at the sudden noise. Dr. Gideon knew that you felt unsure of how to react to his public masturbation….and he loved watching you squirm.

Even so, with each new photo, his little show caused your monitored heart rate to speed. He timed the pumps of his fist with your heartbeats, creating a delicious feedback loop between the both of you.

He moans…..your heart rate picks up at the sound…..he speeds the stroking of his cock……his moans get needier…..and so does your heart rate…..

Your gorgeous body and biological functions were literally helping Victor get off. You didn’t even have to try as long as he played into your reactions.

The thought of both of your bodies syncing had Victor inching closer to his release. He didn’t care if the outside nurses heard his wanton noises. You were more beautiful and scientifically perfect than any of them could ever be. And he was about to worship you for it.

Dr. Gideon’s fist clenched tighter around his length, catching under the head of his cock as his hand frothed with precum. He could feel himself about to come, grunting through each quickening pump of his cock.

Until, he noticed you were rubbing your thighs together while inside the machine. Your slutty little self was discretely trying to ease your aching need while strapped down to the table.

The next scan came through blurry.

“Stay…..fucking…..still.” Victor growled orders through the headphones, appalled that he lead you to disobedience.

“I’m….so close…..to being done……behave, darling…..NOW”

Your legs snapped back in place, and he swore he heard you gasp from inside the machine.

“Gooooood….so good for me…..see how easy it is to listen?” Victor swiped his scaly thumb over his slit, making quick passes as his fist squeezed back down to the tip of his length.

The next scan was almost complete, crystal clear from your stillness, yet colorful from the cum-filled injection.

And just like that, he erupted, shooting fresh ropes of cum across his keyboard.

But Victor couldn’t even relish in the ecstasy of his orgasm. His mind was plagued with your disobedience.

Yes, these new scans of your body, his latest obsession, would still be framed in his office. Even so, they would be layered overtop the old photos so he could admire the difference in your body with and without his presence: layers stacked so he could admire how your body flourishes with his cum.

But right now? He was fucking pissed, and needed you to make up for the scans that were blurry.

Victor marched out of the control room before he could even zip his pants back up. In his eyes? That was insignificant in comparison to your actions.

He grabbed the edge of your plastic bed and yanked it out of the machine, breaking it off its pulley system. You stared at him in fear as he tore through your restraints.

“You disobeyed me and tainted your scans: My beautiful photos of my specimen. You’re about to find out why only good patients get those restraints.”

Victor yanked you by the hand to the opposite side of the room, forcing you both to stand inside an upright machine. A freestanding MRI machine, which is exactly what it sounds like.

“stay.” The doctor let go of your hand for a brief moment, pointing a finger in your face before tearing his own clothes off. The metal fasteners on his outfit is a danger inside the magnet. He grabbed a chair from inside the control room, pushing a button, then slamming it down in front of you.

You didn’t dare sit in it without his permission.

And it’s a good thing you didn’t.

Victor plopped down on it himself, pulling you by the waist onto his lap. His still-soaked cock nestled under your crotch as one of his hands yanked your underwear aside. Your hospital gown loosely flowed over your joining bodies.

“I told you to keep….fucking…..still.” His sentence was punctuated by thrusting his entire cock inside you in an instant.

Unconsciously, you squirmed at the intrusion, whimpers falling out of your mouth relentlessly. Victor snaked his arms under your thighs, yanking them into your chest to press your back against his pecs. You’d never been in a full Nelson before, but that was the last thing on your mind right now.

There was physically no way you could move under his hold. Dr. Gideon literally folded your body to restrain you, while splitting you with his cock to punish you.

“Try moving now, and see what happens. I will get pictures of your perfect body whether you like it or not.”

He ran his hot tongue up your cheek, catching the tears you began to shed.

“You were sooooo good for me last week, little one. Did all that praise get to your head? It’s just as pretty as the rest of you, but you need to understand the consequences when you don’t obey me.”

————

30 long minutes passed as the machine whirred around you both, droning noises filling the air. Both of you refused to speak, fearing you’d blur the photos.

You had to will yourself, however, to still your aching hole. The muscles deliciously stretched around Victor’s cock, but craved to clench around him. Although you figure he would love to feel you spasm on his length, you didn’t want to endure punishments worse than this.

Forced to stay still as his cock prodded at your womb, his tongue occasionally darts out to taste your arousal in the air. Anticipating your squirms before you do, he persistently sinks his nails deep into your skin to pin you in place. Victor’s bodily movements wouldn’t taint the integrity of the photos, but nevertheless, all he granted you were a few spurts of pre to coat your drying insides.

Even though you were still dressed in your hospital gown, you knew Victor pinned you in this vulnerable position solely to expose your body to the world. Not that there was an audience to witness it all, but he wanted you to start feeling comfortable in your own skin.

And in some twisted sort of way, you started to associate the pleasure of his piercing, meaty cock with the feeling of having your body on display. The vulnerability that once paralyzed you with fear, slowly became non-existent aside the comfort of being cockwarmed by your doctor. It felt good to be held by him, for him to be proud of you. You tried to calm your quickly swelling ego, despite imagining him framing these photos of him buried deep inside you.

Still, none of it could fully distract you from the aching, ignored need that pooled in your belly.

Eventually, when you had no tears left to shed, a timer chimed from the control room. You didn’t dare lift your head to look.

You felt Victor’s wiry hair tickle your neck as he nuzzled his head against yours and hummed in your ear.

“~time’s up, darling, I’m proud of you for being good for me this time.”

You let out a sigh of relief, shifting into the creases of your hips to aid your overstretched legs.

But before you could get comfortable, Victor started soft thrusts up into your folded body.

You let out a long groan, dipping your head back against the doctor’s chest.

“my pretty little specimen deserves a reward for their good behavior, don’t they?” He lifted your body slightly so he could move you along his dick like a personal fleshlight.

Still forced to bear yourself in a vulnerable position, you felt honored that Victor chose to use you to get himself off. Even if he wanted to take a patient, you were the one he deemed pretty and satisfying enough to grace with his cock.

All of the tension you’d carried throughout your years of hospitalization, building up a rigid posture to hide your body under the oversized hospital gowns……all of that pent up hatred melted away with each pump of Victor’s length inside your body.

Limp body jostling against the doctor, you felt his thick tip prod against the inside of stomach, making your skin bulge and take his form.

With an imprint of his dick along your stomach, your head nestled against his chest. Needing to support your relaxed form, Dr. Gideon snaked his arms tighter around your pinned legs, subsequently reaching under your gown to fondle your nipples.

You have never felt more beautiful.

“You see what happens when you listen to me? You really are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. No specimen of mine has had a wondrous body like yours, and I intend to make it mine.”

You clenched around his length as he increased speed, both of your breaths hot and heavy. He began to nibble your neck, murmuring how he’d mark you so every doctor knows you belong to him. Each piercing bite got you closer and closer to the edge, with Victor soon to follow.

“You close, little one? Show me. Show me how beautiful your body can really be.”

And you fucking came.

Thighs trembling in his hold, your cum formed a frothy ring around his cock. With your hole spasming around his length, Victor shot hot, heavy ropes into your insides, sealing the action with a meaty bite to your neck.

You whimpered through each twitch of his cock, easily overstimulated by his larger-than-average length.

Victor soothed over the bite marks along your neck, licking and kissing over each one as silent appraisal. He nuzzled against your face as he released your legs, quickly wrapping you into a bear hug.

“Theeeere’s my perfect little specimen. How are you feeling now, darling?” He ran his cracked fingers through your hair.

“I feel……so……beautiful. Thank you.”

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