#dr augustine

Kinda-sorta written for @trrickytickle but also for me 😆

“Ugh; I don’t have time for this shit,” Trudy Chacon grumbled.

The ace RDA combat and transport pilot sat uncomfortably on a periwinkle blue medical bed on Pandora’s research bay. She’d already been measured and weighed and fidgeted around as Dr. Grace Augustine looked into her throat, and her sunglasses did little to hide her annoyed expression. This room…the coolness bothered her. She’d always preferred warmer climates and was much more at home on the field of battle than in a cramped doctor’s office with the AC turned up too high. It didn’t help that she was wearing her tank top and beige hiking shorts for the exam, but she still kept her boots on for the moment.

“It’s only a few minutes once every six months; I think you’ll live,” Grace remarked. She brushed a strand of faded red hair aside and marked something on her digital clipboard.

“Should you really be smoking if you’re doin’ this, doc?” laughed Trudy. Grace said nothing and merely inhaled through her nose before stamping out her cigarette. “I’m not even in the Avatar program.”

“No, but you are piloting advanced helicopters at 200mph in an atmosphere humans generally can’t breathe in. So it’s kind of important.”

In truth, that wasn’t the reason Trudy hated getting physicals. The stethoscope made her jump. Her head involuntarily wiggled when the otoscope touched her inner ear…that was a little too sensitive. But when Grace stretched her arm out and removed a blood pressure cuff, her hand gently grazed the skin just slightly under Trudy’s armpit, which caused the army girl to shudder and bite her lip in a helpless grin. A giggly snort escaped Trudy’s nostrils as she flinched, and to her embarrassment, her reflex exasperated the doctor. Grace hung her head for a moment before glancing sternly back at her patient.

“Are we really going to do this again?” she asked. (If a smoke wasn’t going to cut it, she at least felt the need to jab a toothpick in her mouth.)

“No,” Trudy blurted out insistently. “I can do this. Come on.”

The pilot leaned back, her black ponytail brushing against the pillow, and breathed deeply. Nothing was worse than this part.

Her tank top lifted up. Ugh, just get it over with…

Her whole body tensed. Dr. Augustine’s hands bent into terrible claws, pointed right at her…

All ten of Grace’s sharp fingers jabbed deep into the soldier’s belly…

…and squeezed.

No…no! Don’t giggle! Trudy was thrashing already. The cot squeaked and creaked underneath her.

“VVV-VVVVFFFF, Hhhhhhaha! URRRGH!!”

It was those damn nails…Dr. Augustine’s weren’t long or pointed, but they were just barely sharp enough to burrow agonizingly into the skin of Trudy’s tummy. They were grabbing, wiggling their tips and pressing hard on every inch of her abdomen, moving like big spiders.

“Heheh-Heheh; Heheh-Huhuh Heh! Sh-hit, that tickles; Heh-Heh Heh-Heh!”

“You see? This is why I like plants more than people. They don’t laugh when I do this.”

Why, Trudy wondered, did she have to touch everywhere? Above her hip-bones…her sides…oh god, not underneath the ribs… The sunglasses weren’t just to look cool; Trudy couldn’t bear to look in Dr. Augustine’s eyes. Not when she was tickling her like this. Every prod made the soldier girl jump and want to curl up in a little ball.

“HEH-Hn; Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!! Ckkkggghn, Hnhn!! Gahh, this suhucks!! Hn! I-hit…ffff…it is soho hard not to la-haugh, Huhuh-Huh!”

Despite a thick, multi-layered hide of snark and superiority, deep down, Grace caught herself admitting that this whole thing was a bit funny. Watching a hardened military fighter pilot giggle like a schoolgirl…Grace was frustrated, but it almost made her smile. At least, for a moment.

Trudy felt a terrible grip from a hand’s full set of fingers, all five, chomping down in that tender area just between her hip and her inner thigh, and she couldn’t help it…she yelped loudly and flailed around on the cot, and her boot connected with Grace’s knee before either could think. There was an unbearable pause while Grace groaned in pain…now she was annoyed.

“Ugh…if you don’t hold still,” the doctor ordered, “I’m gonna have to make you.”

Uh-oh. A jolt of fear reverberated up Trudy’s back. Not that…not again… she’d experienced that before and knew what it was like. Her wrists and ankles strapped down to the examination table, unable to move while the doctor’s hands probed her every soft spot…Grace always seeming to take as long and go as slow as possible, just to punish her…always giving her an extra reflex test on her feet…the thought filled the shuddering Trudy with dread as she struggled to hold in her laugh. Her eyes were shut, but she could feel Dr. Augustine smiling at her. Two fingers were rubbing slowly in little circles just below her liver…

“PfffVVN!! Hnhn-Hn!! F-HUH-huck, no, stohop it!” she cackled furiously. Her raspy voice crackled with tomboyish energy. It took every ounce of strength she had to keep from spazzing out.

“Oh, get a grip; this doesn’t tickle that bad,” Grace said, almost teasing her, now unable to hide the grin on her face. She was trying not to laugh herself.

God, why is this taking so long?! Trudy was really struggling now. Her stomach bounced and heaved. She slapped the cot. Her eyes were squeezed so tight she could see the swirling colors of the Pandoran oceans in their lids. But as soon as Trudy sneezed out another forced gasp of laughter…it stopped. The constantly-pulsing room around her slowed to a standstill, and the splotches of color stinging her eyes faded. Her tummy ached from all of her constant wiggling, but the abdominal exam was finally over.

“This isn’t going to be a problem, is it? Hmm? You know if screw up my results, I’ll have to start over…” Grace said, visibly stifling a chuckle of her own.

“*whew*…ugh…gimme a sec…just gimme a sec…” Trudy was positively giddy from the tickle torture.

After a brief moment to recuperate, the pilot soldiered through the rest of it as normal. No issues with her nose or finger reflexes, nor any reactions when the little orange hammer smacked her in the knee. (Though she did chuckle a bit when Dr. Augustine traced the hammer along the back of her knees.) Before she knew it, it was finished.

“Alright, you know the drill; come back in another six months.” Grace’s tone was her usual brand of icy, but a little twinkle of mischief didn’t go unnoticed. Trudy was still trying to catch her breath. Tiny rivulets of sweat dotted her flushed back…she was worn out.

“Heh-Heh…you at least gonna take me to dinner first next time?” she scoffed.

“Just be grateful I don’t show the log video of your check-ups to your meathead squadmates,” Dr. Augustine replied with a devious smirk, hand on her hip. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know how ticklish you are.”

Trudy blushed a little and angrily huffed a strand of hair out of her face. As she sat up, her lighter clicked open and a cigarette popped into her mouth.

“Yeah, screw you, doc.”

Half-serious and half-joking, Trudy stood and walked out as fast as her feet would carry her.

Not Ticklish / Ticklish

Pandora’s Botanist

Finally finished this pencil drawing of Doctor Grace Augustine from James Cameron's Avatar! It was the details of her hair and her lab coat that really threw me; they were the most tricky parts to complete. 

Next to Neytiri, her character (performed by Sigourney Weaver) has to be one of my favourites in the film. WHY DID SHE HAVE TO DIIIIIIEEEEE??? D’: