#paz writes

Your cunt is throbbing from the stretch and attention Chris just fucked into you. He’s a big guy, and sometimes he gets a little carried away seeing you writhe under his hold. This time, however, he went a bit too hard and left you feeling all sorts of achy.

Specifically, your womb churns a bit, attempting to ease the pressure on your now bruised cervix. Not like you could move much from the exhaustion anyways, but the discomfort has you curled and wincing in your shared bed.

His warm, meaty arms are wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly close with your back against his chest. Holding you will never be enough. Chris shifts to drape a leg over the crest of your hip. He’d lay atop your chest if he could, ear pressed against your skin to revel in your heartbeat. But, he’s a little too heavy to comfortably do that. Instead, Chris holds you close to his chest as if cradling a small child. With your size difference, he might as well be.

The weight of his limbs are the only thing that grounds you from your high, letting your head find its footing back in consciousness. You usually use a weighted blanket to sleep, often wrapping yourself in blankets to cuddle after sex. Chris can’t help but feel distasteful for it when you have a perfectly good, heavy boyfriend that can ease you down with his own body weight. He doesn’t keep his muscles that big for no reason.

Chris physically cannot hold himself back from kissing you through the aftermath, painting your flushed skin with his hot breath. They’re slow and calculated, but internally he feels uncontrollably restless, desperate to feel every inch of your skin under his kiss-bitten pout. Almost as if his lips will itch if they aren’t sealed against your skin: allergic to separating from you.

Chris nuzzles the top of his head under your jaw, his cropped hair sending chills across your skin and the vibrations from his low, possessive hum tickling your skin.

He doesn’t kiss you with need, but rather with adoration. His care for you goes beyond the sex, even if he will bend to your every desire just to see you smile. Chris kisses you in the afterglow to remind you that he’ll always be there. That he’ll never be too exhausted to love you. It doesn’t matter if it’s a weekend off or a return from a month’s long mission, he’ll always be at your feet to worship you.

Chris can’t help it, really. Constantly feeling drawn in like a magnet to its opposite match, if you’re there, he’s already showering you with love.

Caught up in his adoration, he gets a little too handsy, borderline groping you just to feel more of your plush body under his touch.

Chris lets out another content hum as he runs his hand along your side, feeling the dip of your waist crescendo over your supple hips. His hand then swoops back down your waist, skating across your stomach to pull you even closer against him.

You haven’t scooted away from him, mind you. He just keeps forgetting how close you both actually are. There could be zero empty space left between you, and he still would crave you closer.

When you accidentally let out a groan or whimper at the swelling pain in your abdomen, Chris can’t fully stop his kisses to ask what’s wrong. His lips graze your skin, warm breath fanning across your goosebumps and give you chills. Mumbles buzzing against your skin, he can’t even manage three words out before cutting himself off with another kiss.

Chris brings a palm over your womb, the heat of his skin soothing your ache ever so slightly. He doesn’t even open his eyes as he speaks, wanting his only sensation to be the feeling of your precious body under his touch.

When you finally confess your pain from his brutal sex, Chris falls into his abnormal way of apologizing. First, he mutters a few “I’m sorry”s, into the shell of your ear, always calling you his ‘babygirl’. But it turns dangerous once he insists on making you feel better.

Chris doesn’t regret fucking every ounce of energy out of you. He doesn’t fold in on himself, blaming himself for it. He will, however, smirk to himself, his ego secretly inflating over the fact his cock was so big that it stretched you to the point of residual aching. He’d never hurt you on purpose, though, and that’s why he wants to make it up to you.

Gently, mindful of your already fragile state, Chris rubs circles up your abdomen. He puffs his chest into your back, the curly hair there tickling your skin, as his hand makes its way up your front. A pulse of want and electricity shoots from his palm through your chest, out your back to his own. The heat of him and his need conducts through your body like a static electricity ball.

His repetitive kisses never stop, now settling against the back of your neck as he drops his head into the pillows. Something’s got to give in order for his hand to have full range of motion to massage your chest. The leg that rests on your hip intertwines with yours to pry open your body a bit, exposing more of you to explore.

Soon he’s kneading circles into your breasts, gently pooling your desire. It confuses you a bit, the sensual act combined with his lack of hard-on sending mixed signals. He insists he isn’t trying to get anything from you. Chris isn’t really intending to fuck you again or isn’t trying to wring another orgasm from you. He just knows how easily you relax under his touch, sexual or not. While the buttons he’s pushing may ere on the side of sensual, you both just want a quick fix to your pain.

It doesn’t hurt that he loves cupping your breasts, anyways.

He could sit for hours cuddling you and rubbing mindless circles across your pebbles nipples. Chris can be a fidgety guy when there’s a lot going on in his head, and giving you some pleasure from it is just the cherry on top.

Especially when the scent of his musky, tobacco-graced skin rolls over your shoulder? You could sink into the mattress forever. All the vulnerable, sensitive parts of your body are supported and warmed by your strong, sensual boyfriend.

You’re too tired to properly whine under his touch, but little whimpers meet every exhale without even trying. Now, instead of your cramping stomach? All you feel is his gentle grip on your chest and his growing smile pressed into the nape of your neck.

“Does that feel better, baby?” Chris asks when you start to squirm a little in his hold, regaining enough consciousness to notice overstimulation creeping in. But when you voice it? He props his chin on your shoulder.

“Does it feel bad, baby?” You shake your head ‘no’. “Does it hurt?” You’ll pause a moment before shaking your head again. “Good. So just let daddy help you feel good again, sweet girl.”

And just when he starts to lull you into sleep, you’ll feel the bed dip as he readjusts his position.

Chris’s insatiable kisses reach your thighs. He doesn’t even bother with rolling you onto your back, too eager to worship your puffy clit with his tongue. His aftercare kisses never are limited just to your face.

Sustained with care, Chris works along the outside of your folds, darting his tongue out to hitch and anchor his face along your skin. The only thing he’s quick about is reassuring you that he’s not looking to get anything out of this, that he just wants you to lay back and feel.

‘Devour’ is too violent of a word to describe how Chris eats your cunt after sex. ‘Savor’ is more fitting. The way he latches onto your clit, his puffy lips barely grasp onto your sensitive skin. His tongue just scarcely nudges your bundle of nerves, drawing it deeper into his wet hot mouth. Chris doesn’t even fully suckle on you, but just uses his tongue to rub your clit against the inside of his lips, careful of how overstimulated you already are. He won’t dare give attention to your spent hole, though, fully aware of how hard he pummeled his cock into it earlier. Chris is mindful while grabbing your thighs tight, but not too tight that he digs into your flesh. Just a gentle hold to weigh your body down, guiding your hips so he can suckle at the spots that make you sigh the loudest.

Not that he doesn’t want to look at you, but his eyes stay shut. He doesn’t want you to feel like you have to put on a show for him simply because he’s watching. You can always feel his gaze from a mile away. But with the sweet scent of your cunt, your soft skin spilling into his hands, and the taste of his cum dripping from your hole? Chris has enough to relish even without his sight. His head is perpetually stuck in the clouds as he absorbs anything and everything that is you. Just feeling your body relax into his touch is enough. Relaxed even if you shift every so often to encourage him to explore a new patch of sensitive skin.

Chris eats you as if he’s massaging your cunt with his tongue. He’s not working to stir energy in you, but works to have you sinking deeper into the sleepy headspace he previously fucked you into. Both your libidos are thankful for that.

When you finally go limp, giving into the exhaustion, Chris returns to peppering you with kisses. He doesn’t want to wake you with his voice, so he uses his lips to worship your body for granting you relaxation. Your folds get a few extra pecks, thanking them for gripping his cock so tightly. Your clit gets some kisses next, thanking it for enduring the little extra attention that lulled you to sleep. He works his way up your abdomen, punctuating his care with kisses above your womb. Hoping the attention will unclench the cramps just a little more while you sleep…..and silently apologizing for the internal bruising marked by his relentless thrusts.

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.

Victor Gideon who edges you via meds.

He’s into drugging but not in the date-rape kinda way. He needs you conscious for what he is about to do to you.

Dr. Gideon alternates between two main drugs. Since you’re already on antidepressants, one has a side effect of low libido, and the other a side effect of enhancing it. Unbeknownst to you, of course, as he mixes them into your IV bags before bringing them to your room. To you? They look no different, and feel anything but.

On days he gifts you the libido enhancers, he’ll spend all night in your room ripping orgasms from your body….back……to back……to back……to back……. There is no such thing as overstimulation on those days. Your refractory period is non-existent, completely skipping overstimulation and quickly amping up for the next orgasmic crash. And coming from a man who genetically modified himself to have superhuman abilities and strength?? There is literally no biological limitation keeping either of you from stopping.

Those nights are the kind that forever raises a girl’s standards. You’ll fall asleep, putting a pin in tonight’s sex, only to continue the fantasies in your dreams. You can’t even function throughout the day without new kinky scenarios popping up in your head.

Then, once Victor has properly spoiled you into your addiction, he’ll put you on libido inhibiting meds. Your mind remains untouched, constantly craving the release he gifts you, desperate for him to get you to that high. Your body, however? Is physically unable to get there. Sensations are borderline numb, only feeling pressure rather than the usual warm and tingly feeling Victor evokes from your skin. He could overstimulate you for hooooouuuurrrrsssss, and you’re left to do nothing but sob as your body barely registers his movements. He just laughs at how numb your body gets just from a little pill. He’ll ravish your body and take what he needs, and yet, you’re somehow edged while he’s balls deep inside you.

You have him. His body, his love, his attention, all of it. Victor shows his relentless devotion to you, abusing all your sensitive sweet spots but your body can’t even muster an ounce of pleasure. You want nothing more than one of his earth-shattering orgasms. But you just. Can’t. Come.

All you’re left with is the memory of Victor’s love: daydreaming to come around his length again.

He’ll catch you grinding on your pillows or abusing toys. Usually, his ego would deteriorate at the sight. But it’s all worth it when you’re crying in frustration, begging him to play with you again. Victor knows that no matter what you do, you will never feel pleasure unless he grants it.

Dr. Gideon is an organized man, but he never keeps your meds on a consistent schedule. One week, he might feed you the libido pills every day, fucking you until you pass out each night. Another week, maybe he only gives you a libido pill on Monday, casting you aside to crave him for the rest of the week. Or even worse, he’ll go weeks with you on the libido inhibitors: leaving you leaking and desperate to come with no end in sight. No matter the circumstance, you’ll never be able to anticipate when Victor will let you cum again. Each time, you relish like it’s your last……if you aren’t too cockdrunk to think straight in the first place.

And you can’t refuse the pills, because that sends you to the psychiatric ward. Refusing doctor’s orders? They’ll force the pills down your throat regardless. So you just have to lie back and take whatever he blesses you with. And you fucking hate it. All until he’s deep inside you again, and pulling multiples out of you suddenly sways you to forgiveness.

Victor has a hard time saying no to you, though. Mostly because when you’re sobbing, every muscle contorted around his meaty cock, he wants nothing more than to watch you fall apart. On those days, when he gets really desperate, he’ll stick you with a shot of libido enhancers. The drug will seep through your veins, dragging waves of pleasure with it. He can see the tonal shift in your body, blush littering your skin in the path of the circulating drugs. All Victor can do is admire you, as your tension dissolves into pure want: muscles no longer clenched to force the feelings, but helplessly twitching because of them.

Once he reveals his emergency libido shot? You’re begging every time that he edges you. Somehow, knowing that he’s withholding your immediate relief only makes you wetter. Victor is saving you. He is accumulating your pleasure, wanting it to snowball until the next fateful day where the enhancers bless your body.

During ovulation, he’ll slip extra vitamins into your IV. You won’t even be able to tell that he gives you something extra, and just naturally feeling whole during that point in your cycle. Victor will even make a point to spend some quality time with you this week. He truly adores you, but at the end of the day, he wants to condition you to associate good feelings, health, and fertility with his presence. It’s not a common gesture to his AFAB patients, either. Victor will do whatever it takes to keep you ripe for him.

How does he track your cycle? He does have a superhuman sense of smell, but that would be too easy. Dr. Gideon requests that the nurses bring your underwear to him at the end of each day. Running samples on your discharge and tasting the discarded nutrients, he studies it all. To you, the nurses are taking your clothes to be laundered. Little did you know that they were feeding Victor’s addiction. They’ll always return to you clean, but he can’t help but smirk when remembering that through your underwear, his tongue has indirectly lavished your cunt.

Maybe one fateful month, he devises a plan. Alongside your nutrients, he’ll feed you fertility meds. Victor loves watching your breasts swell a bit, growing plump in his hands. He’ll make sure that you get a little extra food on those days. Not used to fattening foods, your weight will catch in your hips. Victor drools while holding your newly childbearing hips in his grasp. On top of it all? Your undies smell extra divine when you’re fed those meds.

He has an insane breeding kink. So once he ups your fertility during ovulation week? He can’t help but pump a baby into you. Unbeknownst to you, of course. Then, Victor will even slip abortion pills into your IV during the week you’d normally get your period. So to you? It just looks like a little extra clotting or a heavy cycle that month.

But why kill the fetus if Victor loves human evolution? He’ll experiment on your excreted embryo, sure. He only induces your abortion so he can knock you up again two weeks later. The mere seconds of conception drives him crazy. He swears he can feel your cervix dilate as his flushed tip presses against it: your womb beckoning his juices. He loves watching your body start to shift, evolving due to his seed. The thought of your body unconsciously working to accommodate and serve him is all he could ever dream of. Especially since you have no idea of his plan, your instinctual service drives him wild.

And even if your weight or mood fluctuates during the pregnancy cycles, you wouldn’t notice. You’re too busy worrying about whether or not your doctor will let you cum this week. Too busy going insane from all the edging, the last thing you worry about is abnormal menstrual cycles.

The nurses won’t dare acknowledge your special treatment, either. Although they aren’t the ones measuring doses and switching IV content, they aren’t oblivious. Everyone sees how Victor is downright obsessive over you. And he’ll admit it, too. Always claiming that some patients require special attention or unique treatment. He’s too possessive over you, anyways. If anything other doctor at Rhodes tried to step in, questioning if you really felt safe under Victor’s care? You’d assume they were fired, when really he’s burying their bodies in the backyard. You’re his. Your body, your mind, and every function beneath your flesh, all belonged solely to him. And he wasn’t afraid to claim it.

You haven’t seen much of your girlfriend this week. Grace’s somewhat new job at the FBI trapped her in a cycle of early call times and late closings. NDAs and whatever lie detectors she had to go through kept her from sharing why they kept her so long……..but that didn’t mean you couldn’t wait up for her each night.

Those nights, you were practically melting into the sofa as you aimlessly flicked through tv channels. Anything to keep you from worrying about Grace’s return. Your body was always heavy from your own exhaustion, but the flickering bouts of worry would snatch you back into reality. Sometimes, you couldn’t even remember passing out. You’d wake up to a tiptoeing Grace, her failing to navigating through the dark apartment without waking you up. Even worse, there were times you woke up the next morning to the same empty bed: dreaming through the few hours where both of your schedules aligned.

Grace always left a sweet note on those mornings, rambling about how sweet it was for you to try and wait up for her. A few ‘sorry’s here and there, but she always found her way back into thanking you. Her handwriting was neatly lined, but always had random ink blots at the end of each sentence. The smears were left behind as if she forgot to pick up her pen while anxiously brainstorming what to say next. She’s so incredibly thoughtful, and you just wish she knew that you felt every ounce of her passion.

As much as Grace’s love letters brightened your morning, it’s always tainted by another item she left behind: her uneaten lunches from each day before.

It’s not that she forgot to bring them, cause she spends time meticulously arranging bento boxes in cute, themed ways. The problem was that it always returned home completely full. Maybe a bite out of the sandwich, or a few missing fruit slices, but not nearly enough to be a full meal.

On top of that, seeing yesterday’s untouched lunch next to a completely empty yet brand new pizza box?

Grace isn’t the type to skip lunch on her own accord, but either way, the thought of her missing meals made your stomach drop. Nothing but anger bubbled in its place as you came to a conclusion: work forced her skip her lunch break.

First the FBI are trapping her at the office for ungodly hours, now are they are starving her on the clock?? Absolutely not.

Grace is one of the most hardworking, caring people that you’ve ever met. You’ve seen firsthand how she will instantly put her own needs aside to help others. Her anxiety may delay her thoughts sometimes before taking action…..but once she gets through those emotions? Grace has an unbreakable willpower. You love her for it, but her selflessness can be incredibly self-destructive, even if unintentional. And it’s always too late that she finds out her limit.

As much as you wanted to play Karen and march up to her office to demand better working conditions, she has to strengthen her backbone herself.

The most you can do, is help show her how to take care of herself.

And tonight? Maybe you’ll take care of her yourself.

——————

As night falls, you were determined to stay awake for Grace. Even if she was unbeknownst to your unorthodox relaxation plans, you still wanted to be cheeky with how you presented yourself.

An oversized tee engulfed your figure, slyly hiding your maroon lace undies. You picked a thin shirt on purpose, knowing that Grace gets incredibly turned on at the sight of your pert nipples tenting the fabric. But from far away, like the distance from the couch to the front door, it would just look like a mundane shirt and hidden shorts combo.

After an impromptu shopping spree earlier, you even got Grace a light blue lingerie set of her own as a little surprise. That, you laid out on the bed for later. It wasn’t your goal when out at the mall, but as soon as you saw the lacy push up bra with crotchless panties and a high waisted belt that connected to thigh garters on the mannequin? Your mind was flooded with nothing but images of Grace, flustered and innocent while adorning the lace.

You sat by the tv for an hour and a half before hearing Grace’s keys jingle at the door. Perking up at the sound, you rushed to greet her……almost forgetting you can’t lift your arms too high without exposing your panties.

You bounce on your toes as your breathing stutters with excitement, finally getting to see your girlfriend for the first time this week. Grace peeked through, moving stealthily before meeting your gaze, expecting to enter upon a sleepy girlfriend than an excited one. Her blue eyes shimmering as they met yours, dilated pupils gleaming through her glasses. They’re something she opts to wear when she’s too exhausted to riddle with her contacts, so you know today must’ve been a little extra rough.

And GOD did she look good in her fitted navy blazer, the pleats flaring around her supple hips. Her ashy blonde hair was tucked behind one ear, the curls deflated and messy from nervously running her fingers through it all day. Even in her kitten heels, she still had to tilt her head up to meet your eyes.

Grace instantly dropped her keys and briefcase so she could throw her arms around you. You wrapped one arm around her waist and another around her neck as you relaxed into the embrace. Her vanilla shampoo filling your senses, you couldn’t help but smile into her neck.

Reaching up to thread your fingers through her hair, you guide her face into view and break the silence.

“I missed you, baby, how have you been?”

Grace averts your gaze, clearly a little flustered after not seeing you for a few days. Sometimes, her confidence dwindles after time apart…….almost as if overnight she regressed into a teen who’s too flustered to talk to their crush.

You thumb her jaw, watching her chew on her lip as blush scatters across her cheeks. Now that you’re both together, time doesn’t matter. Grace can take as long as she needs to get her words right. And she knows you’re more than willing to wait for her.

“I-I-I’m good, I think? T-T-Tired, yeah.” Grace gives a chuckle, waiting to look at you until she’s done talking. Her baby blue eyes flicker between your own, flitting to your lips for a split second.

You notice.

You press a quick kiss to the tip of her blushy nose. To which, it scrunches and deepens in color.

“I’m about to have dinner, baby. Why don’t you get changed while I grab us something to eat?”

Grace looks back at her briefcase, then over at the fridge. Clearly, thinking through what you already know: you’re going to find her untouched lunch. You could tell she was weighing her options. But you asked so nicely, and she knows you’d never lash out at her, so she follows your lead.

“O-o-ok…! Be right back, then.” Grace gives a sheepish nod, smiling to herself while leaving to your shared bedroom.

It kills you to ask Grace to change out of her scrumptious uniform, but you wouldn’t do so without a deliberate plan.

You catch her fingertips before she fully walks away. “Oh, by the way, I saw these cute clothes today at the mall that made me think of you. I set them out on the bed if you’d like to try them on.” Giving her hand a squeeze, you trace her figure with your gaze before letting go of her hand.

Poor Grace wouldn’t have the confidence to wear anything risqué without you telling her to. And you were going to take advantage of that.

You moved to put away her briefcase as she entered the bedroom. Grabbing her untouched lunch, as you expected, you began to clean up.

“…..u-u-ummm….you s-s-said on the bed, r-r-right? I-I-I just think I heard you wrong, maybe…..” of course she would blame herself over something so trivial. You almost feel bad for leading her into this so passively.

“Yep, that’s the one!” You yell innocently from the kitchen. Your tone betrayed Grace, of course, because unlike the usual comfy pjs that you buy for her? Instead, lies before her is the light blue lingerie set.

It had been about 10 minutes without a sign of your girlfriend, but you figure the poor girl is trying to hype herself up before returning to you. The new outfit wasn’t exactly normal dinner attire, anyways. Let alone the fact that she rarely, if ever, wears lingerie.

In the meantime, you wash a bowl of cherries for the both of you to share. Tonight wasn’t just about helping Grace, but also in helping her eat…….even if you had to teach her through sex that taking care of herself could feel good.

You return to the couch and switched off the tv from your waiting spree earlier. It took control over every bone in your body to stay still, your limbs growing restless with excitement. Picking your nails relentlessly, you chew on a hangnail before remembering to check the side table drawer.

Yep, the strap-on and lube are still there from weeks ago. Perfect.

The sound of incoming footsteps come to a halt, skittering backwards before shifting anxiously. With a few quick back and forth footsteps, you could tell that Grace was debating whether or not to actually leave the bedroom.

You let her take her time.

Eventually, the bedroom door creaks open slowly, and you slam the drawer shut to keep Grace in the dark about your little plan.

She shuffles out of the room, silky smooth legs adorned with sky colored pantyhose……the elastic lace held by heart-shaped clips on the garters…..leading your lustful gaze up, up, up to her………work button-up???

“What’s wrong, Gracie, were the new clothes not a good fit?” Damn, you should’ve known that was a possible wrench in the plan.

Grace shook her head softly, her hands fiddling with the hem of her work blouse. She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated to rework her words. “N-n-no, they fit, I just……”

So the lingerie does fit. You felt heat bubble in your stomach, knowing you’d at least see her modeling the lace at some point.

Grace’s stutter started to make her words unintelligible. Her fidgety hands, unbeknownst to her, lifted the shirt hem ever so slightly where her light blue undies peaked out from underneath.

God. Grace didn’t even know the power she had over you. Thank everything for her poor eye contact, cause you swear you caught yourself drooling.

She caught herself mid-stutter and took a deep breath, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “I just wanted to eat first, is all.”

Feeling your face heat a bit, you waved her over to join you on the couch. To which, she immediately plopped down at your side. You pivoted positions to face her, but Grace quickly yanked down the hem of her shirt to cover her panties.

You hate that she suffers from anxiety at all, but damn is it hot to see her all nervous in front of you. Literally, you close your eyes for a second to steer your mind back on track.

“I have some snacks for us, but I wanted to talk…..” Grace’s eyes shoot up to meet yours, obviously scanning through her mind of things she might’ve done wrong and how to go about correcting them.

You switch tones immediately, grabbing both of her hands.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just- I notice you come home from work with your lunch uneaten. Is everything ok?”

Grace’s body collapses after releasing a held breath. Taking one hand and resting her forehead in its palm, she pushes her glasses to rub her eyes with the other.

“I-I-I-it’s stupid work. I-I mean, work’s not stupid just the people? Or like, my bosses? There’s so much work and I try to do everything they give me, I really do. I’m so grateful to have this job but it’s like….” She bounces through her jumbled complaints, refusing to put blame on a singular person. In an indirect, subtexty kinda way, she eventually confesses that the FBI makes her work through her lunch break.

“I-i-i just…….j-j-just want to help people. A-a-and if that means I miss a lunch, it’s ok. T-T-There’s always dinner, right?” Grace’s eyes go glassy, shoulders raising slightly as she hesitates to hear your response.

“Sweetheart, you know I’m not mad at you for it, right?” Grace lets out a relieved chuckle, and you drag her into a hug.

“I’d never be mad at you for having such a big heart. I just hope you can take care of yourself too, right? If not doing it for yourself, at least take time to eat so you actually have the energy needed to help people.” you quip, trying to get a laugh out of your clearly still stressed girlfriend. She takes the bait, giggling into your shoulder.

“I-I-I guess so……ha, ha.”

“You know I can help you……yeah?” Grace pulls back for a moment, needing to read your facial expression and process the proposal. You grant a soft yet sensual smile.

“I don’t have a solid dinner planned for tonight, but I can at least show you how good it feels to take care of yourself, hm?” You tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, smoothing its waviness and trailing your hand down the side of her neck. Grace shudders as you reach the collar of her shirt, your fingers dipping below to fabric ever-so-slightly.

“Can I take care of you tonight, Grace?” You locked eyes until she locked your lips, breath hot and heavy between you both.

You could feel the heat radiating from her hands as she hovered over your shoulders, debating whether or not it’s ok to touch you. You shove Grace’s hands against the back of your neck, silently begging her to run nails along your scalp. She breathes out a soft whine at the gesture.

Grace nibbles at your lower lip, too shy to work herself into your mouth but intentionally giving you a request for more. You swipe your tongue across the seam of her lips. Dipping into her hot mouth, you drag your tongue along the roof of her mouth to make her groan.

For such a timid girl, she sure as hell can make noise.

You run your hands down her shirt, snaking under the fabric to grasp her waist. Her ribs flare as she exhales into your touch, turning her head to the side and fanning her warm breath over your cheek.

Entranced by the moles scattered down her neck, you press a soft kiss below her jaw. Grace’s hands tighten in your hair, not knowing whether to pull you away or press you closer. Moving to a mole halfway down her neck, you give it a few kitten licks. Your girlfriend’s head goes limp, and you catch it with one hand. She half-mumbles an apology into your palm, kissing along each ridge.

Near-silent whimpers pour from Grace’s mouth as you smother her neck with open mouthed kisses. Each press of your warm, wet tongue triggers another muscle to relax, and soon she’s limp in your hold.

Hands fully returning to her waist, you pull Grace onto your lap as you sit back against the couch cushions. Her body reactive to your movements like jell-o, her pelvis rolls forward into yours and shoots heat through both of your bodies. Grace’s crotchless panties are an open door for her slick to seep onto your clothed cunt.

“There’s a good girl, that’s not so hard, is it? Listening to what your body wants?” You unlatch the lowest button of her blouse, then lean back with arms propped against the cushions. You couldn’t resist drinking up her needy state, silently watching and leaving her to finish her blouse.

Grace doesn’t get the hint.

Face flushed, glasses crooked on her nose, and a purple spot blooming on her neck. Her eyes were screwed shut, pushing deep breaths through her slack jaw. Grace couldn’t think straight and simply waited for you to take over…..as you usually do.

A few beats passed of no movement, and Grace fell into her thoughts again. Slowly opening her eyes, she noticed you watching and scrambled to regain composure. Plush lips snapping shut and straightening her spine, Grace became overly aware of how needy she looked. She’s constantly in a state of being internally conflicted, and now is no different. Your girlfriend desperately craved more of your touch, but was worried she took things too far. Both of you wanted her shirt off bad, but Grace needed some encouragement that it was the right move to make.

“I-um…….w-w-what should I do?” She winced as she looked down on you, but your expression remained unfaltered. You just smirked up at her, refusing to say anything.

Grace’s gaze shifted to the floor, and you could almost see her brain flitting through options. You tilted your head, almost in a predatory way, as she started to mumble to herself. “….o-o-ok……I-I-I could….sure…yeah.”

She takes a deep breath, steadying her hands as she moves to unlatch another button on her shirt.

Grace deserves a reward for that.

“Thaaaaaat’s it, let me see that gorgeous body of yours.”

Grace’s eyes shoot to meet yours, stunned and flushed. You could practically hear her heartbeat skyrocket as she craved more attention.

“C-c-can you say more?” Grace pleaded, her hands slowly moving to the next button.

“More…..what?” You raised an eyebrow. She needed a little more pushback.

Grace let’s go of her shirt, immediately moving to fidget with her hair. Her nimble finger brushed through the already frizzy curls. She knows she just has to be forward with you at this point. “M-m-m-more n-n-n-nice stuff……..please?”

She’s so fucking cute. You almost hate yourself for your self restraint. But you’ll give a little direction.

“Take off your shirt, baby, and I’ll say more nice things to you.” Grace takes a deep breath, slowly moving to unlatch another button.

“mmmmm. you make me so happy showing yourself off to me.”

She unlatched another button.

“Soooo good for me Gracie, you listen so well.”

and another button.

“Nobody’s as obedient as you, you’re so beautiful when you’re eager.”

With each button, you rewarded her with another compliment. Slowly, and hopefully, you could train her to associate self care with pleasure…….in some abstract kinda way.

By the end, Grace practically tore her blouse off as she slung it against the wall. She was dying to show off her body for you. But before you could reward her with another bit of praise, she snatched you off the back couch to devour you.

Her pelvis slammed forward, brushing your clits together with delicious friction. You moaned into each other’s mouths, hands restless and feeling every inch of exposed skin. You couldn’t even part for a breath before Grace slotted her lips back against yours, eager to taste every crevice of your mouth.

You thread your fingers through her hair and yank her back, perching her back upon your thighs.

“Woah there, sweet girl, I thought you wanted to eat something first?” You gave her a taunting smile. Grace’s mouth agape, she kept parting her lips only to halt sentences before they started.

She was caught desperate and greedy…..just how you like her.

You reach your free hand to her cunt, tracing over the delicate lace motifs on her panties. And maybe……ever so meticulously……avoiding her clit each time.

“Babygirl, you have no reason to be sorry. I just want to make sure you get fed is all. You remember that?”

Grace frantically nods, eyes screwing shut. “M-m-m-mhmmmmmmm-m-m”

“Tell you what, maybe we can do both at the same time. But we’re going to need to reposition a bit.”

Grace’s eyes flickered open, her face attempting to show confusion, but only reading as needy.

———————

With the bowl of washed cherries on the side table, Grace stood by your side as you fastened on your strap dildo.

A fuchsia one, of course, to match your own lacy thong.

You sat back down on the couch, squirting a heavy dollop of lube into your palm. Your focus was on Grace’s bewildered facial expression, and her focus was glued to the toy. You slid your palm across its tip, the copious amounts of lube dripping down the shaft. Grace couldn’t help but stare as you tightened your fingers around the silicone, pumping it slowly so that the tip broke through your grasp on the way up.

You made a show of wrapping both hands around the toy, pretending it was long enough to fit both. Grace’s jaw grit tight, her thighs pinching together at the sight. Each pump of your hand knit her eyebrows closer together, her clearly imagining how snug of a fit your silicone cock would be. Grace’s belly jumped ever so slightly as her breathing stuttered, and you couldn’t help but imagine what the soft skin would feel like between your teeth.

“Why don’t you come take a seat, babydoll?” You snapped her out of her trance, but her eyes never left your crotch as she reached her hand out towards you.

Her wiggling fingertips graced yours, gripping lightly as you guided her to straddle your hips.

“Y-y-you’ll go slow, right? I-I-I don’t know how much I can fit.”

You gave a soft smile, leaning up a bit to peck the tip of her nose. “Of course, baby. You take all the time you need.”

Grace nodded to herself, muttering a confused “….me?…..” as she realized that she was going to have to penetrate herself on your strap.

You put your hands on her waist, just resting instead of guiding. Grace leaned forward slightly to grab your shoulders. You took a few deep breaths, making them audible so Grace could follow with her own breathing.

You watched as the pink toy slipped along the crotchless underwear, the tip tickling her clit. Grace’s voice whined on impact.

“It’s ok, babydoll. Take your time, it’s no rush.”

Tilting her stuttering hips forward, the tip of the dildo caught her mound and sank into her cunt. Her hands tightened on your shoulders as she took a sharp inhale.

“Good girl, feeling me inside of you. It’s good, huh? And there’s sooooo much more to take.”

Sinking down another inch, Grace’s thighs began to tremble. You patted her waist encouragingly, having to hold yourself back from fucking up into her.

Whimpering like a dog, your girlfriend’s thighs clenched shut with each inch that stretched her cunt. As if snapping her legs shut helped her pussy clench onto you for stability. Her pleasure overwhelmed her senses before even fully sitting down on the toy.

“You’re almost there, sweet girl, you’re doing such a good job.”

Grace’s legs gave out and her hips slammed flush with yours, ripping a groan from both of your throats. Her upper body fell into you, grasping for stability as she sobbed through the stretch. Slick trickled down your joined crotches, beginning to pool beneath your ass. It could’ve come from either of you.

“Shhhhh, sh, sh, sh, I know, Gracie, I know.” You cooed as you smoothed her hair. She was trembling in your hold, each sob jolting her body, consequently jerking her body further over your toy.

“How do you feel, baby, is it too much?” You lift her head to meet your gaze, readjusting her now crooked glasses.

Grace sniffed a bit, shaking her head ‘no’ in response. “S-s-so g-g-goooo-o-o-ood”

God, she was about to make you come on the spot.

You pressed a light kiss to her forehead, one to each of her cheeks, then a final kiss to her mouth before pushing her to sit upright on your silicone cock.

“As much as I love your touch, I don’t want you stifling yourself to resist your pleasure tonight.” A pair of handcuffs were revealed from the side table drawer, and you fastened Grace’s arms behind her back. To which, she complied. She already knew the safe word, but trusted you wholeheartedly regardless.

You grabbed the bowl of cherries, sitting it on your stomach.

Grace’s tears slowed as she regained composure, finally easing into the overwhelming stretch.

“Can you open wide for me?” You dangled a cherry above her plush lips. Her tongue peeked over her bottom teeth, scooping the fruit into her mouth. You watched as her pink lips closed just below the stem to pluck off her snack.

She sniffed as she chewed, her mind now focusing on the sweet juice dancing on her tongue.

Grace’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused by something she was tasting. She spoke with a still-full mouth. “M-you got the kind with-f seeds?” Her tongue poked against her cheek. You could only imagine her soft muscle prodding at the seed, exploring every surface to extract it from the fruit.

You bit your lip and nodded. Leaning up chest-to-chest, you gently licked the cherry juice off her lips. Grace opened her mouth to let out a surprised squeal, and you dove your tongue inside to remove the seed.

Grace froze, face turning beet red. Her cunt made an audible squelch as she clamped down on your strap.

“I-I-I could’ve spit it into the bowl. O-o-or just swallowed it. Y-y-you didn’t have to do that.”

You plucked the seed from your own mouth, setting it on a napkin beside you.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” God, Grace is so cute getting caught off-guard and flustered.

“Did you finish your fruit, sweetheart?” You tapped the bottom of her chin, signaling her to open her mouth.

Grace swallowed hard. Then hesitantly opened her mouth to you, her eyes looking anywhere but.

You thrust up into her cunt.

Grace whimpers.

Her hands frantically rattle the handcuffs, wishing desperately she could muffle her moans. You just giggle and watch.

“Theeeeere she is. See? Good girls get rewarded for eating when they’re supposed to.” You smirk, grabbing another cherry from the bowl.

Grace desperately tries to grind herself on the toy, thighs trembling as they push her body forward. You shoot your arms to pin her in place.

“Ah, ah, ah……you already got your reward for eating, didn’t you? You don’t get more of my cock until you eat another…..”

Your girlfriend lets out an annoyed whimper. And yet, embarrassingly fast, Grace sticks her tongue out to catch another cherry. You slowly lower the fruit onto her awaiting tongue. Her muscle curls around it, plucking it off its stem without having to use her lips.

In record time, she crushes the cherry to remove the seed. After hearing a small hum from her closed mouth, you lean forward to retrieve your prize.

But…..she moved a little too fast for your liking.

You press a featherlight kiss to the left, then right corners of her mouth. The third kiss is closed-mouth as you revel in her tongue attacking your lips in a plea for entry. The fourth kiss grants her access as she dumps the seed, practically devouring your bottom lip afterwards.

You push her by the shoulders, forcing some space so you can discard the seed. Her throat bobs as she swallows, and you grip her shoulders firmer to gift another thrust.

Grace’s thighs clench around your hips. She lets out a dry sob as her impatience gets the best of her.

“P-p-please, I-I-I promise I’ll eat the rest later. J-j-j-just please……p-p-please fuck me.” A tear rolls out from under her glasses.

“Is that what you tell your bosses at the office? I promise I’ll eat soon, just let me finish my work?” You quirk an eyebrow before presenting her with another cherry.

Grace drops her head in defeat. You weren’t wrong, really. Just maybe a little cruel in order to drive the point home.

She gets a little bold, this time wrapping her pretty mouth around your fingers. Grace locks eyes with you before pulling back to eat her snack. Your stomach dropped at her boldness, but tonight wasn’t about you.

And two can play at that game.

As she chews, your hands explore upwards along her body, settling just below her breasts. She lets out a wanton whine, some juice dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. Running your hands along the lace of her bra, you reach around to its clasps, your body leaning forward to follow suit. You stop an inch away from her face, knowing that she can’t handle the pleasure of grinding herself onto your strap to get closer to you. Refusing to break eye contact, you unhook her bra one clasp at a time. Grace hums to signal giving you the seed, but you ignore her and pull back.

Lifting the bra over her head so that it falls against the cuffs behind her, you sit back to admire her figure. Her plump yet perky breasts sit high on her chest, nipples quickly pebbling from the cold air. Grace puffs out her chest a bit, hoping you’d take the bait and run your hands along her.

You just stare. Eyes going up and down her figure, landing on her scrunched, tear-stained face.

Leaning forward to take the cherry seed from her mouth, you rest your hands at her underbust. Grace’s breathing stutters out of her open mouth. You swoop in and kiss her as your hands rush up to roll her nipples.

Her thighs squirm uncontrollably at your hips. Each open-mouth kiss allows you to swallow her whines.

Showing a little mercy, you alternate between rocking her hips and fondling her breasts as respective rewards for eating more cherries.

Her swallowing gets quicker, thus rocking her hips faster against yours. With each grind, your silicone cock prods deeper against her cervix. While it may be too much for some, fucking against Grace’s cervix turns her into a babbling, fuzzy-headed mess. Exactly what you need to get the poor girl out of her head.

By the time you reach the bottom of the bowl, Grace has a thin layer of sweat over her whole body. Her eyes are half-lidded, fully relying on the feeling of the cherries hitting her tongue to know when to accept another fruit.

You set the bowl back on the side table, shifting your hands to lift Grace’s lowered head.

“Hi, baby.”

She replies with a soft moan.

“You finished all the cherries, sweet girl. I’m so proud of you. Do you want me to keep going? A good girl like you deserves to come after all that hard work.”

Grace’s tears resume wetting her cheeks as she frantically nods in response. “Please…..yes……I need to…..so bad……thank you……”

You grab onto her plush hips and peck one of her nipples, tongue lavving over it before latching on.

Grace’s whole body tenses, regaining consciousness at the feeling. “~ah~”

You slowly pull her hips towards you, then pushing backwards to fuck her deeper without making her use her muscles. With each roll forward, you swallowed her nipple with another open-mouthed kiss. Your lips popped off as she moaned into rocking backwards.

Grace arched into your touch every time your mouth met her nipple, her breaths getting shorter and quicker with each draw.

Feeling your girlfriend’s limp weight on your strap, unintentionally grinding the toy against your clit, drove you insane. The white ring of her slick that formed around the base of your dildo didn’t help.

Grace looked like she was made to sit on your strap. Her once anxious eyes were now glazed over, head in the clouds as she let you take control of her whole being. Such a good girl, letting you fuck her onto yourself. Sweet thing could barely hold her own body weight up, surrendering all autonomy to your will. You knew that her submission was special, and that it must’ve been so soothing to be taken out of her anxiety-riddled head. Every ounce of pleasure was guided by your touch, and you knew her body like the back of your hand.

You leaned off Grace’s chest, pressing foreheads together as you poured all your focus into fucking her against your strap. Hot breath between you both passed from her lungs to yours, exchanging what the other puts out.

Grace deserves a little extra treat for what you’ve put her through tonight.

You take one hand off her hip, resting your thumb in front of your silicone cock……giving her clit some sweet attention and relief. Every roll of her hips into your thumb bumped another moan out of your girlfriend.

You wanted her to lose every ounce of thought inside that pretty head of hers. Hands picking up speed, you puffed your chest out a bit so your breasts would drag against each other with every thrust. Nipples catching each other, hips sinking into one another, and her clit puffy from stimulation, there wasn’t a single sense of hers you’d leave untouched.

Grace started frantically kissing your face, little pecks of need and desperation. It was her telltale sign she was getting close.

“……b-b-baby…..”

“I know, Gracie, I know. I’ve got you, sweetheart, take what you need.”

“….oh-oh…..oh-shit….”

And just like that, her body fell limp under your hold. She let out a high-pitched squeak as she came, thighs twitching at your sides, and eyes rolling back in her skull.

Feeling warm liquid seep over your cunt, you couldn’t do anything but watch in awe at the beauty falling apart in front of you.

Grace took scattered, sharp inhales that complimented her clenching cunt. You swore, even though the dick wasn’t real, you could feel her strangling the life out of it.

“You’re so pretty when you come all over me, baby. God, it’s a gift to watch you fall apart on my cock.”

You gently reach behind her to remove her handcuffs. To which, she collapses forward onto your chest, still struggling to catch her breath. Poor girl is so wasted that she forgot about the dildo still inside her.

Cradling her head, you use your free arm to lift her hips up and drag the toy out of her still sopping cunt. Grace can’t do anything but whimper into your shoulder at the loss.

Your girlfriend tries so hard to put up an invincible persona. You see everyday how her anxiety pulls her by the leash and drags her through the mud. The fact that she would rather starve herself than let others go unhappy? It felt amazing to have that very person relaxed and worry-free snuggled up in your arms.

It’s the least she deserves.

“How do you feel, baby?” You play with her hair, brushing it out of her face but not demanding eye contact. She gives an unintelligible, yet seemingly pleasured response. It has been a really long day for her at this point.

With Grace still latched onto your torso, you pick her up and carry her to bed. Dressing her quickly with an oversized tee, you gave her some undies that actually have a crotch this time. You handed her a glass of water while you fetched some food of real substance.

“I promise this will be a normal dinner this time.”

Grace, still mostly nonverbal, gives a tired chuckle but takes the food eagerly. She becomes extremely clingy after sex. Not much of a talker, as words can trip her up sometimes, but she craves feeling her skin against yours. What started as a hand on your thigh slowly melds into leaning her full body weight against you. Eventually, Grace gets so tired that she slowly drifts to lay her head in your lap. Easier access for you to card fingers through her hair anyways.

Your boyfriend, Leon Kennedy, had been through a rough few weeks at work. Although he couldn’t tell you much about his job at the RPD, you see the news reports against Umbrella. Like any first responder, he can never catch a break. Seeing how truly terrible people can be, watching them turn on their own kind just for a slice of power? That’s gotta weigh on him. Let alone the physical demand of it all. Leon doesn’t bring up work around you, but you can read his body language well enough to know that he’s been struggling to relax. So this week, you proposed a fun shenanigan.

“Are you….sure you want me in a…..costume?” Leon turned away from your laptop, giving you a timid, brows-raised look.

“I wouldn’t really say it’s a costume, just uh……more like some toys. Accessories, maybe?” Maybe it was selfish, using your own fantasy to try and indulge your inexperienced boyfriend. A little pet play never hurt two consenting individuals, right?

“I dunno…..it just seems you’re a little ‘all bark, no bite’.” You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder at his petty dad joke. Leon knew you were a dreamer, always offhandedly mentioning random fantasies. But this time, you really did have a plan.

“I really mean it this time! There’s a Petco five minutes from my work, I can stop by tomorrow and grab everything.” You set the laptop down and grab his hands.

Leon’s still unconvinced. “Uhhhh, since when did they have dog ears and tail butt plugs at Petco?” You both break into a fit of laughter, crashing into eachother.

“Ok, you got me there. So maybe I’ll have to make two stops, but that’s not the point! Will you be the bestest boyfriend ever and indulge me, my love?” It may be low-hanging fruit to sucker him into this, but you wouldn’t try it if it didn’t work. Besides, you know if you proposed a scenario to satisfy solely him, he would never agree. Leon always puts you first.

Your boyfriend lets out a big sigh, blush spreading across his face. Clearly giving it a proper thought. He wasn’t nearly as experienced as you when it came to sex.

“I just thought it made sense because you’re a very loyal……and obedient……excitable person.” You raise one of his hands to give his knuckles a quick kiss. “And it’s kinda hot imagining such a strong man submit to me.” You set his hand onto his thigh, letting your touch linger for a second.

A noticeable tent was forming in his pants at the thought, but he caught you staring.

“Ok, for you? I’ll do it.”

“THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!” You whip him into a big hug, assuring him that you’ll walk him through it and give him plenty of room to opt out.

———————————

The next day, you came home, goodies in hand, to find Leon sitting on the couch in the living room. He had the tv on as he usually does, but was leaned forward onto bouncing legs. Clearly, he’s a little nervous.

You set the bags next to the couch, and plop down beside him to snuggle up and give him a kiss hello.

“~hi, handsome~” you walk your fingers up his bicep, giving a playful squeeze.

“Hi, babe. I see, uh….see you got the stuff.” Leon’s gaze fixated on the bags on the ground, leg still bouncing.

“I did! But again, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I kept receipts and everything, and I won’t be mad if today is a no-go.” You sit up to look at him as he speaks to you.

“I want to, i just…you know I’m not as experienced as you. I just want it to be good for you.” Leon looks like a kicked puppy turning to meet your gaze. Poor guy. He really can’t ever do anything to benefit himself, can he?

“Of course I know that, baby. That’s why I wanted to explore this with you! Besides, it’s just meant to play around with today. If either of us don’t like it, we’ll stop, but I’m not expecting anything to be life-changing. Just experimenting with you is exciting enough.” And you meant every word of it. Leon’s whole body let out a collective sigh of relief, easing his bodyweight into you.

After he gave confirmation to start, you pulled a collar, leash, headband with dog ears, and a tailed butt plug out of the shopping bags. You both read through the sex toy packaging, making sure to disinfect it before use. Leon refused to let you dress him, fastening the collar/leash and headband on himself. You offered to warm his body up a bit for the tail, but he insisted on taking care of it himself. So, despite several offers, you let him take it to the bathroom.

Leon took about 5-10 minutes to insert the plug, blatantly struggling but refusing to ask you for help. This was your fantasy, and he didn’t want to feel like a burden if he couldn’t make it happen. Poor boy even pulled up some tutorials on his phone. You didn’t want to pressure him by knocking on the door to check-in, but got lost in watching tv while you waited regardless.

Until, there’s a soft click of the bathroom door. You jolt towards the remote to shut the tv off. Body flushing with excitement as each soft footstep moved closer to the living room.

He looked better than you imagined.

The dog ears perfectly matched his ashy blonde hair. Blush littered his face, his eyes darting anywhere but you. Although his head dipped down slightly, you could see the blue leather collar wrapped tightly around his neck. The dog tags clinking as he moved. If things went well, you’d get his name engraved into it for sure. The matching blue leash trailed down his chiseled torso, already catching beads of sweat. His thick arms outstretched in front of him, hands covering his genitals. Legs turned slightly inwards, he spun 90 degrees to show off the thick blonde tail coming out of his backside. Leon was nervous as fuck, and would have been shuffling between his feet……if every step didn’t press the plug against his sensitive sweet spot.

Fuck. You’ve definitely been staring speechless for too long.

“Oh…….my god.” Your jaw is slack, but mouth curving into a gentle smile. Leon finally makes eye contact, watching as your eyes darken with need.

“If it’s not good, I can change. Or am I wearing it wrong? I don’t really-“ he stammers, unsure of what you’re feeling.

“You look so fucking hot right now.” You stand from the couch, having to hold yourself back from pouncing on him. You didn’t expect him to come out completely nude, but you figured there wasn’t a way to wear clothes around the massive tail plug.

Leon turns back to face you head-on, eyes scrunching as the plug shifts inside him. You inch your finger, beckoning him to approach you.

He shuffles, barely lifting his feet off the floor.

Soooo obedient.

Leon stands directly in front of you, breath heavy, face flush, and hands still covering his cock. Not that you can see how hard he is, anyway. His height causing him to tower over you slightly, you have to look up to meet his eyes. You flash a smile.

“Hi, baby.” You swear you aren’t trying to look predatory.

“…..hi….” You can tell he’s nervous.

“How are you feeling, love?” You fold your hands behind your back, rocking on your toes. Obviously he needs direction, but you want to sit with his vulnerability for a second.

“I feel…..ok.” He tilts his head.

“Ok….is that a good ok?” Leon nods sheepishly, looking at the ground. You hum in approval. “Sweetheart, if you ever stop feeling ok, I need you to tell me. Just use our safe word and I’ll back off.” You bend down to meet his lowered gaze. “I won’t be upset, I promise.”

He gives a soft exhale. “Ok. I’m ok, really. Just a bit nervous.” Leon starts to shift his stance, wincing once he remembers the plug stuffed inside him.

“Let’s start slow. Can you sit for me?” You fold your arms over your chest. Leon looks back down at the floor. With his hands still occupied, he bends his knees to sit on his heels.

The way his eyes glimmer as he looks up at you sends blush scattering across your face. He shifts his hands around his crotch, presumably making more room for his hardening dick. As much as you’re loving the height difference, you don’t want to intimidate him, so you sit on the couch in front of him. Your bent knees now reach his eye level. Leon’s big blue eyes track your movements down.

“Gooooood. Hmmmm, let’s see.” You give him a moment to get comfortable, understanding his sensitivity from the plug stuffed inside him. Leon’s leg starts to bounce again, causing the tail to wag slightly behind him.

The leash….

You lean forward to grab the leash, pressing a deep kiss into his lips. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, tongue quickly swiping over your bottom lip and hungry for more. You pull away, barely an inch from his face to let him pant a bit. He’s so needy already.

Leaning back with the leash in hand, you overestimate it’s length and accidentally tug him forward. Secretly, you’re a bit disappointed that he didn’t remove his hands to catch his fall. You want to see all of him. But let’s not kick him while he’s down. Poor boy is still nervous.

“Now, pet….” You tested the waters with the nickname. Both sets of his ears perked up.

“Can you be a good boy for me and show me your puppy parts?” You looked down your nose at Leon, patient, but incredibly turned on.

He lowered his gaze again as he slowly brought his hands to his knees. A string of pre snapped from his fingertips to his shaft. Leon’s been leaking this whole time.

You tug at the leash, forcing him on all fours. But, still keeping him propped up to fully expose his entire, dewy body.

“Puppies are supposed to be on all fours, right?” Leon locks eyes with you, blushing harder. “Yes, ma’am.” The honorific went straight to your core.

Someone was getting a little confident, knowing how to chip at your composure.

And you can’t have that. Good thing you’re wearing a low-cut tank top today.

You lean down to touch Leon’s dog ears, pushing your cleavage into his face. His hot breath fans over your skin, hitching as you scratched behind his headband.

“What’s a-matter, pup? Does that spot feel good?” You lean further forward to scratch the nape of his neck, fully shoving his nose between your breasts. Running your nails up his nape and across his scalp a few times, Leon finally gets restless and nibbles on your breast.

You abruptly lean up with a gasp. “Leooonnnnn, good puppies don’t bite.” You condescendingly tease him, knowing full well you baited him into that. While he attempts to stutter out a response, you drag your eyes over his figure, spotting his now red-flushed cock.

If Leon is too occupied with feeling flustered, he surely can’t be stressed about work right now.

Score.

“I’m going to need you to sit at the corner of the couch until you learn how to behave.” Leon stands up to step on the couch. You fully extend your arm to the left to yank him back off.

“Ah, ah, ah! Pups aren’t allowed on the furniture.” You tut at him, pointing to a spot on the ground by the arm rest. Leon lets out a deflated sigh, propping himself back on his heels.

He’s so desperate and scrumptious. You want to pounce him. Bad. But who can’t resist edging him a little? You decide to milk his timeout. Grabbing the tv remote, you flick the tv back on. His leash neglected and tied around the armrest, your right hand is free to fiddle with his hair. There’s only so much sensual touch you can give to his scalp. And you have a spare hand for yourself……

You lower the waistband of your shorts below your hips, aimlessly circling your clit. There was more than enough slick to finger yourself while you wait.

Leon was worried he already messed up once, and really locked in on watching the tv to wait until further instructions.

Until he heard a breathy moan from you.

He snapped his head in your direction, almost knocking off his headband in the process. You were knuckle deep in your hole, thumb delicately pressed against your clit. Leon blinked for a moment, realizing that you were too focused on the screen to notice him watching. He slowly crawled your way, desperately wanting a taste of you, but was too ambitious.

“Leoooon, stayyyyyyy. I promise, I’ll give you a treat if you just wait a little bit longer.” You roll your head to look at him, eyes hooded as the squelches from your cunt fill the room. Leon’s lips scrunch, teeth shifting in anger as he returns to his timeout spot. His eyes stayed glued to you, though, despite yours returning to the tv.

Of course you have to seize the moment, moaning a little louder with each pump of your fingers. Adding a little squirm of your hips just so he can imagine what it feels like to make you writhe with pleasure.

Out of the corner of your eye, Leon rocks slightly on his heels. Tail brushing against the bottom of the couch, his eyes wrench shut in pleasure. You pretend not to notice, but revel in seeing the puddle of pre form under him as he slowly bounces on the butt plug.

Leon’s sure he will draw blood from the way he bites his lip to muffle the moans.

You make sure to stop fingering yourself before reaching your orgasm. Coming without him? You’re not a monster. Rolling your head to look at Leon, he quickly snaps his gaze to the tv to pretend he was staying still. You’ll give him a pass.

“Leon, baby….” You grab back the leash and give it a pull. “Be a good pup and join me up here.” His dick throbs. “I’ll let you on the furniture, just this once.” He jumps up onto the couch, perched on all fours with big pleading eyes. The couch is definitely going to need to be spot-cleaned by the way he’s leaking pre everywhere.

“Goooood boy. Sit against the armrest and I’ll give you your treat. You lean forward to unlatch the leash, a silent agreement between you both that he’ll obey you.

Leon’s breath picks up as you snake your arms around his legs, spreading them apart for easy access. You lay your body down and start nudging the plug deeper as you speak.

“You’re such a good boy, listening to all my directions. I trained you well, pup.” Nudge, nudge, nudging as you kiss up his thighs.

“You’ve even been nice and quiet so far.” You shift to kiss up his other thigh. Still, pressing the plug deeper inside him.

“Not even a whine or whimper from you, pup. It would be a shame if you spoke…” dropping a not-so-subtle hint, you licked a wet stripe up the underside of his shaft. On cue, a whimper fell out of Leon’s mouth. He smacked a hand over his lips, embarrassed at the noise. You chuckle into an open mouthed kiss on his tip, vibrating it ever so slightly. No sounds this time, but his breath is so shaky that you can hear it.

Enough waiting. You deepthroat him to the hilt. Leon’s hands fly to either side of your head as you time the plug pumps with your mouth bobbing. He attempts to meet you for a second thrust, stuttering until you feel hot liquid shoot down your throat.

After less than five seconds of head, and he already came?

God, he’s so needy.

It’s so fucking hot.

You slowly drag your mouth up off his shaft, giving a wet kiss to the tip after swallowing his salty juices. Understandably, you’re stunned. Stunned, speechless, and breathless, you rest your head on his inner thigh, spacing out while you collect your thoughts.

A beat passes before you tilt up to take in the sight of your hopefully fucked out boyfriend.

Except that wasn’t the case.

Leon’s face is flushed red, his eyes starting to crinkle at the seams. If the ears were real, they’d droop down into his ashy blonde locks. Poor boy just felt so embarrassed.

You brushed your hand up his neck, settling on his chin to lift his gaze. A gaze that he refuses to meet. And not because of the tears clouding his vision.

You give him a second to breathe as anxiety creeps in convincing you that you’ve pushed him too far. He sniffles a bit as you rub circles into the corner of his mouth, chest stuttering and pulling uneven breaths.

Leon swats your hand away, shifting to the floor out of sight and whipping his knees into his chest to hide his face.

Fuck. What have you done?

“Heyyyy, hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong, baby?” You coo, scooting off the couch to meet him on the floor. It seems he didn’t want to be touched at the moment, and you had to stop yourself from instinctively grabbing his shoulder. Instantly, you’re picking at your nails trying to jump into problem-solving mode.

“Talk to me, baby, what’s wrong?”

“I-I-I-I-it…..*sniff*…..um…..*sniff, sniff*…. I-I-I u-uh-hum…..” Leon’s forcing words through stutters, frantically wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His chest falls back into a steady rhythm. It breaks your heart to hear each of his inhales quiver. Blush still heavy, he tilts his head up to look in your direction…….his nose instantly scrunches and tears fall back down his face.

“Awww, come here, baby.” Almost as if reading each other’s minds, you dive into a hug together. Your nails running up the nape of his neck to play with Leon’s hair the way you know soothes him. “Shhhhhh, it’s ok, you’re ok. I’ve got you.” Trying your best not to choke up yourself, your mind is still desperately searching through the last hour for any possible mishaps. You steady your breath, doing so out loud to give him something to match his own breathing to.

You both established a safe word. You yourself made sure to do all check ins. Not that it would make it better, but with a man of his strength and police training? If something went wrong, he has more than enough strength to push you away. But he didn’t. It should never come to that. But did it come to that? Could you have gotten too wrapped up in toying with him that you missed a cue??? Right now he needed to let his feelings out, but you couldn’t really help him if you didn’t know what was wrong.

You just kept holding him close, rubbing along his back and whispering reassurance.

“You’re safe, baby. I’m not mad at you, i could never be mad with you. I just want to make sure you’re ok. I’ll take care of you, whatever it is.”

Leon’s breathing is still heavy, tears falling faster against your arms.

Ohhhhh. He’s not hurt.

“I’m here for you, baby. Whatever you need. I’ll take care of you, you can relax with me. You don’t have to do anything, just breathe with me.”

Tilting down to carefully catch his tears with your thumbs, Leon relaxes into your hold and stretches his legs out beside you.

Oh.

Oh.

Leon was still hard. Not just erect, but his tip angry red and his inner thighs were glistening with new slick.

You reach down to massage his leg, trying to connect the dots……but his behavior and his body are telling you two different things. Was he just ashamed for coming so fast? It’s not abnormal for him to still be hard after five seconds of head. Or, was it not satisfying enough for him?

“Baby, is this what was wrong?” You pat his inner thigh as Leon buries his face into your shoulder. Sniffling, he manages to mutter out a “mmhmm”.

Poor thing. He’s still embarrassed.

“Leon, baby, do you want me to take care of it for you? You know I really don’t mind…” shedding a soft smile, you finally manage to tilt his gaze towards yours. He huffs. The tears have stopped, his face still flushed and eyes puffy. Cute.

“I-…..I just……” he takes a deep breath, starting to fiddle with your hair as he speaks.

“I’m j-j-just not u-u-used t-t-to it is-s-s a-all.” You give a soft nod, silently relieved that you didn’t hurt him. “S-s-some-ome-one c-caring f-for me l-like t-t-t-this.”

Oh.

Of course.

A police officer dealing with the literal end of the world. Your boyfriend. Who spends every hour of every day saving people. Rescuing them. Risking his own life for the better of others. Constantly worried someone will die on his watch. Constantly on the lookout for himself, his colleagues, AND civilians. Not that he had low self esteem, but when did he ever have time for himself?

When did he have a person to take care of him?

“I’m so sorry, Leon. I’m so sorry.” You feel heat sting your eyes, tears streaming to cool your flushed face. Wrapping your arms tighter around the man, holding him like he’d disappear into thin air, you pull him back up onto the couch with you. Figuring that cushions would be more comfortable than the cold hardwood floor. And that he’d prefer to lay on your lap, fully being held.

“Shhh, I have you, baby. I’ll never let go. Let me take care of you.” You whisper, stifling your own sobs to delicately brush his hair out of his face.

You both sit for a moment, your feet resting on the floor with Leon sitting sideways on your lap. His head rested heavy against your shoulder. Leon’s fingers still delicately intertwined with your hair. Time passes, easing your grip on one another, and stilling your breathing. Your eyes closed and head tilted back against the top of the couch, you decide to break the silence.

“You know…….you know I want to take care of you, right?” Leon kisses your shoulder before tilting up to look at you. “I mean, for god’s sake…..” a giggle forces its way out of your chest. “I’m the one who suggested getting kinky. If anything, you’re just having a normal response to me literally slobbering all over your dick.” Leon busts out into laughter. God, that felt good to hear. He presses kisses onto your shoulder, trailing across your collarbone. Failing to muffle his laughs with each peck.

“I mean, seriously, you think you’re the freak?? I literally went shopping at Petco……for my boyfriend. Does that not feel insane to you??” Leon’s his lips begin to vibrate against your chest as his laugh deepens. He gives an open mouth kiss right under your jaw before quipping back.

“No, it doesn’t. Cause I was the one who was into it……” he giggles, too embarrassed to look you in the eyes again.

Even after all the crying, this motherfucker is still. Hard. You’re sure your whole body beats red at the sight of your boyfriend curled up yet turned on in your lap.

Leon picks up his pace with the open mouth kisses, tongue beginning to lave at the sensitive spots along your neck. His hand tracing up your side, hugging you tighter…..but introducing an air of sensuality.

“Baby…..” you coo, bringing a hand down to his hip. His cock jumps at the gesture. Leon runs his tongue along your collarbone, punctuating the line with a kiss.

“Yeeeeees, ma’am?” He gives you a snarky look, knowing that nickname is going to turn you feral. There’s the man you know and love.

You gently massage circles into his hip, slowly inching down towards his v-line. He takes a sharp inhale.

His once tear-filled eyes now glimmer at you, blue irises starkly contrasting the pink blush on his cheeks.

Leon’s chest begins slow its rise and fall, taking long, deep drawls of air. His eyes flutter shut as you reach his inner thigh, barely brushing his balls.

“Daaaaaarling…..pup?” You purr, tapping his chin with your alternate hand. His body is on fire, overwhelmingly so. But you need his eyes open for what you’re about to do. As if you haven’t already pushed the limits enough today.

Leon’s eyes darkened, looking at you like you hung the stars, watching you grasp the strap of your tank top. Gently, you drag the strap off your shoulder to reveal your braless chest underneath. Which, he had to have deduced by now, considering your perky nipples were nearly ripping holes through your shirt.

His jaw dropped. You felt a small spurt of pre dribble down his shaft and splash onto your hand. Leon speechless, you can’t help but break him.

“Do you want mommy to take care of you?”

You can’t even blink before Leon dives into your chest, peppering kisses everywhere he could reach. He’s moving FAST, blonde hair tickling your skin as he moves. You use your spare hand to cradle the back of his head.

“Thaaaaat’s it, there’s my good boy. Such a good pup for mommy.”

He fucking whimpers.

With each kiss, he lets out a high-pitched whine, akin to a dog begging for treats. He’s falling into the puppyboy role a little too well…..

Leon latches onto your pert nipple, beckoning the peak with his tongue while popping his mouth off it. You both let out twin moans at the act, warm energy shooting to your core, and his muscles instantly easing into you.

You reward him by gently grabbing his balls, thumbing them to feel his tenderness. His whines vibrate heavenly against your nipple. This man was going to be the death of you.

And it’s your fault, too.

Oh well.

Leon rests his head against your shoulder again, lulling himself into suckling your breast. Gently pulling his lips against your sensitive flesh, he pinches your nipple between his teeth before soothing it with his warm, wet tongue.

Running your fingers through his hair with one hand, you finally wrap your other around his weeping shaft. He lets out another whine. “Thank you, thank you. ~Nnnugh~ Thank you, mommy, I promise I’ll be good.”

Oh he is really going to be the death of you.

You’re fucked.

You press a thumb on the underside of his shaft, running along a thick vein that leads you to his tip. Although he’s already soaking with pre, you circle the head of his cock in your palm. His suckling stutters as you hit the slit on his tip. You curl your fingers around the underside, rubbing your thumb along his frenulum.

“~Nnnugh~ Mmmmm…” Leon unlatches, instantly overwhelmed by the pleasure. His chest starts shuttering against yours, unable to breathe as he begins bucking his hips into your hand.

“Ah, ah, ah. Puppy….what did I just tell you?” You press his hips flesh against the top of your thighs, keeping him in place. He lets out a thick sob. It was nice to see him shed tears when he wasn’t upset.

“Mommy wants to take care of you, baby. Can you stay still for me and let me do the work?” You tease him, earning a soft nod in response before he dives back into your breast. Your fingers return to the underside of his tip. “You’re such a needy little pup, but I don’t want you to do absolutely anything.” Your hand slowly sinks, then rises up his shaft. Leon throws his head back, a guttural moan ripping from his chest.

“I just need you to feeeeeeel for me. Do you think you can do that? Good pups let their mommies make them feel good.” You pump his swollen cock faster.

“Mmmm ~ughhhh~…….mmm-h-h-h-mmm.” Leon mumbles into your chest, nodding while suckling. He’d rather die than be separated from your breast again.

“Goooood pup. That’s my good boy.” His thighs are trembling. Borderline vibrating alongside you. The next pump, you swipe your thumb across his slit before pumping down his shaft again.

“Y-y-you mean it?” You’re shocked Leon can pronounce have a sentence through his trembling. “I-i-I’m y-y-your go-o-o-od boy?” Another tear falls down his cheek.

Your stomach drops.

You press an open mouthed kiss over his tear stains, continuing the fast pace on his dick. “Every word of it, baby.” He sobs under your praise.

“Mmmmmmoooooommmm-m-m-m….” Leon’s whimpers muffle into your chest, his tongue stuttering while swiping across your nipple. You can’t help but giggle.

“Ma-ma……..mom-m-m-mmy??” His shaky breath chills your nipple, your hand practically soaked with his pre now.

“Yes, my sweet puppy?”

Pump, swipe, pump, swipe.

His balls swell so big that you can’t help but knock into them with your fist. Leon is barely able to get his words out, so you know he’s close.

You force him to speak anyways.

“Can I come, m-m-m-mommy?” Leon, slack jawed and lazily lapping at your nipple, locks eye contact as hot tears stream down his face.

“Good pups use their manners….” You smirk down at him, slowing the motion of your hand.

“PLEASE. Please, mommy, please let me come. I’ve been so good for you, please mommy.” He throws his head into your chest, fully sobbing as you quicken the pumping on his cock.

Leon’s moans echoing off the walls of your apartment, he starts to lose his breath with each nudge of his balls. Only able to let out steady whines, the best he can do is attempt to warn you.

“M-mom-m-m………c-c-cum-cum-cu-….” His hips thrust into your hand, hot ropes of cum seeping onto your arm. You rub your thumb along his shaft to milk out his orgasm, savoring the sobs he lets out with each swipe.

“Theeeeere’s my good pup, there we are. Let it all out for mommy. Suuuuuch a good boy.” You shush him and give him gentle kisses as he eases off his high. Once it settles, he lets out a soft chuckle in disbelief. He leans up to give you a quick kiss on your lips, his mouth raw from sucking on your boob.

Leon takes a few deep breaths as you lick his cum off your arm, swiping up the drops on his legs to consume every bit. Although doing it for your own pleasure, you wish your boyfriend caught a glimpse of you savoring his juices. He was too fucked out, his pretty blue eyes already fluttered shut.

Breath still deep and slow, he still can’t stifle his own selflessness. “Thank you, baby. I…….~phew~…….I promise I’ll……I’ll repay you.” You scoff and give him another kiss on his forehead, using your now clean hands to brush through his hair.

“Leon….what did I say earlier? I don’t need you to repay me. I want to pamper you. You deserve it.” Leon gives a soft, sleepy smirk, nuzzling his body towards you to cuddle. You reposition yourself to lay alongside him on the couch, but he quickly rolls to lay on top of you. He could get used to this.

“I just feel special enough that you’re so vulnerable with me. That, and letting you relax is all the enjoyment I need.” You reach over the end of the couch to pull a blanket over you both. Just by the shallowness of his breathing, you can tell he’s going to pass out soon.

“Thank YOU. For letting me treat you, Leon.” You press a kiss to his nose, to which he barely musters a smile.

“I love you.”

With the job market at an all-time low, and hitting your fourth month of unemployment, you were searching for ANY means of extra cash. So when you heard about a paid medical study, you were all in.

Looking for volunteers willing to test new wellbeing vitamins. Compensation will be offered in exchange for daily examinations for 1 month post-treatment.

Interviews weren’t getting you anywhere, so why the hell not?

——-

Paperwork complete, hospital gown on, and you’re waiting for the doctor to come in. You expected a decent amount of disclaimers, as experiments call for all sorts of liabilities, but an hour worth of documents?? Especially for something without concise side effects, it felt ridiculous. But there was one clause that caught your eye: “full willingness to participate”.

Vitamin T’s intended purpose is to increase the patient’s body mass, improve their reflexes, and increase their cognitive abilities. Therefore, numerous tests will be required of each patient during the study to determine results for each category. The patient must be willing to endure their doctor’s requests without rebuttal. If the patient feels unwell or unwilling at any point of a test, they can press the provided emergency call button for an immediate break.

Though strange, it was reassuring enough to know you’d always have access to the emergency button. It felt strange giving up all autonomy to a stranger….and somehow it gave you a bubbly feeling in your stomach. What could cause someone to be pushed far past their limits? Where did they even get these doctors from?? And would they be understanding if I asked them to stop?

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts, as an older, tall man creaked open the door. Dark black eyes peeked in. The man wore a strange set of goggles pushed back on his forehead, and had a wide, crackled smile to reveal crooked teeth. He was so tall, in fact, he had to duck under the door frame to make his way in and shake your hand.

“I’m Dr. Victor Gideon” he said, as you reached to shake his chapped hand “it is such a pleasure to meet you.”

Standing in front of him felt like you were a stalked prey. He had broad shoulders that felt encompassing. The dark clothes felt threatening, especially for a doctor. His height alone was enough to make anyone feel helpless. But contradictingly, his hushed, cooed voice soothed your nerves.

“Please, darling, take a seat. Do tell me if it’s uncomfortable. I fear you’re one of the first patients I’ve had for this trial, and I want to give my mice top notch care.”

You blinked for a second, did he just refer to you as a lab rat?? What could be made of this guy? His physique and snakeskin clothes screamed ‘shady’, but his dark eyes just kept drawing you in with a warm feeling. Male doctors never seemed to be a great fit for you, always talking over you and blaming anxiety for half of your symptoms. But Gideon felt different. He spoke gently, but not in a way to infantilize you. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but for once, it felt like he truly cared for you. Victor seemed crazy into medical stuff, that’s for sure, but maybe he’s more of an antisocial genius kinda guy.

“Today will be very simple, as I don’t want to overwork you on your first day. My patients must uphold their energy in order to withstand the trials, yes?” He stretches latex gloves on, grabbing syringes and vials out of a nearby cabinet.

What kind of vitamin is pitch black?? Your eyes widen a bit as you watch him set the tray next to your left arm.

“Don’t worry, darling, I know seeing the equipment can be a bit scary. But I already know that you’ll do wonderful for me.” He traces his fingertips up your forearm, his eyes glimmering once finding a prominent vein. Your heart flips in your chest. Nerves? Or maybe you just haven’t been touched in a while. Unemployment means no money for dates, after all.

“I’m getting ahead of myself, let’s do some vitals first, shall we?” Victor connects a heart monitor to your index finger on your other hand, claiming he wants to measure any heart rate changes during the vitamin shot.

The machine steadily beeps.

“I will, however, conduct a breathing test before giving you this….vitamin. There is always a risk of allergic reaction when taking any new substance, and we can’t have that, can we, little mouse?” Pulling the goggles over his dark eyes, he still grins at you, trying to make light of the situation.

Victor hands you a large tube strapped to a computer with a candle animation. “I’m going to have you take a deep breath for me, and exhale into the tube. I know it’s a bit elementary, but the candles on the screen will extinguish the more you blow. Do you think you can blow them all out for me?” Sitting forward in a nearby chair, observing you closely, he still grins at you.

“I’ll try my best!” you say, giving him a shrug. “Excellent. I’ll count you down.” He leans back, beginning a countdown as you wrap your lips around the tube. You swear you see his tongue dart over his lips as you do.

Heart monitor picks up speed.

“Three, two, one, breaaaaathe out”.

Sometimes your heart picks up from a bunch of deep breaths, right?? Nothing too unusual for the monitor to go off, you tell yourself.

Heart rate returns to normal, and breathing test comes back normal.

“Atta girl. Excellent vitals, just as I expected.” The doctor claps his hands together and moves to begin administering the vitamin shot. His fingers grace your wrist, tracing up your left arm again, searching for that beloved vein. Although this time, he’s looking you in the eye, trying to ease you into the procedure…and perhaps study your reactions.

“Do you have a history of fainting when receiving shots?” You shake your head no in response. His thin lips spread back into a grin. “You might just be the perfect patient for me, little mouse. I feel so lucky to have struck gold so early into my studies.” Victor keeps a firm but gentle hold on your arm as he fills a syringe with the other. Although both of your arms are restrained by medical equipment, right hand still having the heart monitor, you can’t help but feel calm in the strange doctor’s presence. He has a way of talking you down. Distracting….or….maybe just soothing you……with his words. 

“You’re going to feel a sliiight pinch, but don’t worry. I’ll count you down real nice and slow. You got that, darling?” Four unreadable, reflective lenses stare back at you, yet you can’t help but nod in agreement. Nevertheless, you still grip the emergency call button in your alternate hand in case your pain tolerance wimps out for this shot.

“Take another deep breath for me. Breathe in……three….two……exhaaaale….aaaand you’re done.” You only feel the tender padding of a cotton swab as he treats your injection site. “Good girl! not even a twitch from you.”

Heart monitor picks up speed.

Not even a pinch?? This man is so gentle that even receiving a shot is a breeze.

With another passed breathing test, you’re kept in the room for about an hour. Of course, every 15 minutes he insists on a check-in. “Is my patient is holding up well without me, hm?” A nod earns an excited grin from the man. “Beautiful.”

An hour gone by, and there’s no bad reaction to be found. “Yeah no, I feel great. I mean, no different than normal so I guess that’s good!” “That is wonderful to hear, my darling!” He exclaims, hurriedly approaching you to disconnect you from the machinery. He leans down, tall frame towering over you as he reaches for your wrists, pinning both to your armrests at once.

Heart rate picks up.

Victor halts and turns his head towards the monitor “Hmm. An increased heart rate. Not unusual, but a bit unexpected.” He leans down further to make eye contact with you through his goggles. “You’d tell me if you were uncomfortable….wouldn’t you?”

Heart rate picks up faster. His mouth still hanging open. 

“I’d want nothing but for you to feel your….hmm…” faces six inches apart, staring under his brow as he keeps pressure on your wrists. “….your absolute best” your heart rate stays high, but he refuses to back off until you’re completely honest with him.

“Well, uh… that’s what the emergency button is for, right?” Your voice wavers a bit as you raise a brow in response. Victor reaches up to push his goggles back onto his forehead. His black eyes trace across your face….down to your lips….across your shoulder….down your arm….past the emergency button in your palm, to settle on admiring where he has you trapped at the wrists. A small scoff leaves his lips at the sight.

He takes a steady inhale….”I suppose so.” Victor backs off, pushing down on your wrists to leverage himself up. He has to be at least 8 ft tall, now that you’re seeing him up close. He takes gentle care, lifting your left hand into his palm to unstrap and remove the equipment from your wrist. His hands had to be twice the size of yours.

“As I mentioned before, today is easy for you” his eyes fixated on your hand in his. “Receiving Vitamin T is the extent of today’s procedure, and you will be able to rest in the sleeping quarters until tomorrow morning.” He sets your hand in your lap before picking up your alternate hand.

“Tomorrow will require a full physical examination. Sometimes patients show the vitamin’s effects very quickly, others take a week or so.” He sets your other hand in your lap atop your previous one, his thumb lingering to rub gentle circles on your knuckles before continuing.

“Depending on the results from the physical, I may or may not administer more demanding tests. So, if I may show you to your dorm, you can start resting up for tomorrow’s big day.” He offers you his hand to help you out of the patient chair, then resting it on the small of your back until you reach your room.

——-

You were desperate. Insatiable. Too far gone to worry about what Dr. Victor Gideon had in mind for you. In fact, you BEGGED him to keep going. Even though moments ago you were shedding tears of pleasure, now you’re SOBBING from the sudden loss of his touch.

“Please, please, ~hic ~, please, doctor. ~hic~ please. I-I-I never ~hic~hic~ go-o-o-d ~hic~” So desperate for him that you can’t even wrangle your lips to force the words out. He’s an intelligent man. He knows a ‘yes’ when he hears one.

Victor strolls over to reach under the bed that you’re still sprawled out on. Although the weird buzzing feeling returns throughout your limbs, you no longer have the strength to sit up and watch his movements. He raises tall poles on either side of your hips, delicately threading a rope between hooks at the top.

Blinking the last cloudy tears from your vision, his crackled hands slide under your right knee. Victor traces a hand from shin to ankle, gently lifting one leg into a mating press. He isn’t using a vibrator along your skin, but the familiar motion is enough to give you a heat flash. Your ankle is quickly fastened to the hook atop the pole, the doctor giving you a gentle foot rub as he checks-in with you. For such a compromising position, he still treats you like glass.

“Is this angle comfortable, sweetheart?” He drags the backside of his nails along your cheekbone to brush hair out of your eyes.

“Mmm-h-h-mmm. I-I-“ your stuttering calms from the warmth of his hand gracing your face. “I’m usually not flexible, b-b-ut this feels…..good.” Having your knee to your chest typically isn’t your pose of choice. But, man, is this vitamin shot doing wonders.

Dr. Gideon exhales a sigh of relief, patting your calf before shifting between your legs to grab your left knee.

“It’s so fascinating, your legs are still littered with goosebumps despite it being 3 minutes since I fucked you.” Your body was so overwhelmingly heated that you didn’t even notice.

“You know, I knew you were special from the moment you first walked in.” Your left ankle now fastened, Victor traces an imaginary inseam towards your knee. Feeling each finger wrap around your thigh, his nails grip you with so much devotion that they sink into your flesh.

Leaning up to take in the sight, you witness the doctor nuzzles his cheek against your inner thigh. Akin to a dog desperately trying to imprint his scent on you.

“My little mouse, you were soooo…willing. So eager. So…….” He tilts his head down to furrow his brow, turning possessive. “……so ready. I should have known that Vitamin T would have this effect on you. It pushes humanity to its very limits and desires. And you?” Cracked lips graze your knee as Victor maintains eye contact. Your skin burns from the scrapes, but tingles with desire. The knot returns to your stomach.

“You…..desire to be taken care of.” Kisses punctuate his words as he moves up towards your ankle. “You specifically wanted me….” He walks towards the head of the bed to grab your left wrist, kissing your pinky knuckle. “…or….” A kiss on your ring knuckle. “wanted me to….” Middle finger. “do, and I quote…” pointer finger. “whatever I need.” he pushes the pad of your thumb into his mouth.

God, how his eyes pierce straight through you. Unwavering confidence so that he doesn’t look away for a second. Giving a gentle suck, he pops your thumb from his mouth, gives it a kiss, then reaches across your torso to grab your other wrist. Victor slides the emergency button back into your hand, as if silently communicating boundaries with you.

He slams your wrists back above your head. Clenching his teeth, he growls: “You didn’t listen the first time. Let me do……let me take….what I need.” Braces secure your hands at the far end of the bed, leaving your legs in a mating press and your arms trapped above your head.

You can’t do anything but tremble, your pussy getting wetter the longer he makes you wait. A butterfly-shaped toy is placed atop your clit with ropes looping its wings around each leg, and another around your waist.

Victor almost snickers to himself as he clicks a remote on.

Fuck.

Clit still puffy and sore from the wand, the butterfly toy softly vibrates and make your mouth water.

And Victor just stands with his arms crossed to watch you. He flips the page on his clipboard to document the start of a new experiment, but he refuses to look away from you.

The doctor denies you any release. It’s just enough stimulation to make your thighs shake and your stomach bubble, but not enough to get anywhere close to another orgasm. He’s made you so desperate.

“B-Babe, please, can-“ “babe?” The doctor sets down his clipboard, suddenly hesitant as he makes his way to the metal instrument table. “I- sir, please.” He nods and picks up a dildo. “Can I have a little…more?” You weren’t trying to undermine his methodology, but if he was trying to make you come? This certainly wasn’t going to work.

“You’re lucky, little mouse, that I need your mouth free to hear your feedback.” Well, that shut you up real quick. Had you dripping slick onto the bed, too.

“Darling, your body has been so reactive that I need to see how much you can adapt to…..new stimuli.” He reads a measurement carved into the base of the dildo, making a note on his clipboard before diverting all attention back to you.

“I know your delicate clit isn’t getting the attention it deserves, but I need to keep your cunt slick and open for me, mm?” He stands at the foot of the bed, prodding the tip of the toy into your hole. Your thighs clench.

“We’ll start average, testing a 5.5” length. I’ll need you to take a deep breath in for me.” Victor leans over, pressing a hand above your womb to gauge depth. “aaaaand, breathe out.”

A stretch as usual, but did he only put it in halfway?

“How is that, sweetheart?” Butterfly toy still buzzing, but you’re aching for more. “I uh…Is it all the way in?” You raise your head, only to see that he he’s pushed the toy to its hilt.

His skin normally as white as a ghost, flushes for a second. Victor gives it a few pumps. “….huh.” He keeps pumping while turning to write notes.

You can’t help but squirm a little, feeling the toy caress your walls. Being filled is being filled, no matter the size. Any stretch still gives you chills.

“Not entirely unusual, but let’s move up an inch.” Dr. Gideon rips the dildo from your puss, leaving you whimper at the loss. He casually licks the toy clean, unphased by his own actions.

“Since you took that one so well for me, let’s try 6.5 inches.” He gives your hip a reassuring pat, seeming to have fully calmed down since restraining you. “Ready, little mouse? You’re doing great for me.” He flashes a smile, letting you breathe into the new stretch.

God, you love a good stretch. Victor wraps his fingers around your left thigh and gives you gentle thrusts. He can’t help but want to feel your body rock against the bed for him.

You feel his gaze boring into you, silently asking for feedback. Blush dances across your face, not wanting to admit that you still don’t feel entirely full.

“Speak up, darling. I want to hear what I’m doing to you….” Victor starts to pump faster, forcing a groan from your throat. You get a word out with each thrust. “Still….not….fu-“

The toy rips from your hole again, and he bites it horizontally like a watermelon so he can suck your juices while writing notes. He slings it back onto the tray and snatches the next.

“You’ve spoiled me for anyone else, do you know that? A doctor’s dream. You take anything I give you.” He spits on your pussy and shoves in a 7.5” dildo immediately to the hilt. You’re a whining mess, now. But still not quite wrecked. And after your earlier assessment? He knows exactly what you sound like when you’re cockdrunk. And it doesn’t sound like this. He should be excited about his new findings. But for some reason, not satisfying you makes him pissed.

You tilt your head up to muster another response, but are met with him swiftly unbuckling and removing his belt.

“How is anyone going to fuck babies into you if I can’t even reach your cervix?” Victor’s fly is down, shoving a hand into his underwear as something cold runs down your tits.

You just fucking lactated.

Worse? The doctor’s run out of dildos to test on you. Instead, he whips out both of his 9” dicks without a second thought, shoving one into your cunt and draping the other over your buzzing clit toy.

Victor fucks a whiny, guttural moan out of you. “Theeeeere’s my good girl. Such a perfect fit, I can feel myself leaking into your cervix. Do you feel full now, little mouse?”

He really thinks you can speak in a state like this? The vibe on his spare dick has him twitching inside you, sending shockwaves through your torso with every thrust. Your back fully arches off the bed, angling your pelvis to shove him even deeper. And god, is it hard to resist every inch when you’re too bound to squirm.

“I need to hear you, sweet girl. What are you feeling?” Victor slows the pumps to allow you to speak. He knows the effect he’s having on you, and he’s going to run with it.

Your sentences are remixed and jumbled at best, yet he’s writing notes like he isn’t fucking the life out of you. Too enamored with his own research to get lost in an orgasm. Dr. Gideon clicks a lens on his goggles, a light flickering red before pinning your hips down.

Did he just start recording??

You clench down on his dick.

“Thaaaat’s it, sweet thing. Show me how you feel. I know it’s hard to talk but I’ve got you. You can show it to me.” His nails pierce the skin at your hips. Victor can’t help but flash a grin as your orgasm slowly builds. You’re probably moaning his name, but you’re only thinking about his member hitting a sweet, sensitive spot deep in your stomach. Goosebumps prickle at your inner thighs, radiating out from your core. Then, Victor presses firmly on your lower stomach, feeling his own bulge bullying its way through you.

And you come. Hard.

“Atta girl, it’s so special when you lose yourself to me.” Not that you have the energy to look up at him, but his attention is fully devoted to writing notes; enamored with your reactions, yet sexually unaffected. His body is nothing but a tool to serve you, and his science.

You start to mumble praises and thank you’s, assuming that concludes the test. You did reach your limit length-wise, after all.

“Oh, I’m not finished with you yet, little mouse. I just need to readjust is all.” Victor glances at your hand to ensure you’re still holding the emergency button, then slowly pulls his dick from your dripping hole. You finally have the space to take some deep breaths, despite the vibrator still buzzing.

You feel him caress your ass, thumbing your cheeks to spread your hole and align himself. One hand aligning there, and another lining the previously unused dick back into your cunt.

There’s no fucking way.

But you take every. Inch. Of both.

“You fill up so well of me, little mouse.” Victor only rocks subtly for now, giving you a second to readjust. You’re panting so badly that you’re seeing stars. You can feel his dicks press against the wall that separates your holes. The stretch, quite literally, is enough to make you come. Tears start streaming down your face, and you’re quickly overstimulated.

You never seize to amaze the doctor. “See, darling? You’re a marvel. I could shove my cock anywhere in your body, and you’ll always adjust to please me.” Victor slowly pulls out, raises a hand to wipe away your tears, and as soon as you steady your breath, he slams back in.

“Shhhhh, sh, sh, sh, relax for me. I know you can.” Even when fucking the life out of you, his voice stays hushed and gentle. With each thrust, he shushes you more to lull you into the pain. A pain that feels so encompassing. So heated. Sooooo good.

Victor’s been so tunnel-visioned on your holes that he just now notices the milk that ran from your tits. He delicately grazes the side of your breast, slowly thumbing at your nipple. The doctor cups you for a second, then swipes the milk trail and rubs it between his fingers. He writes a quick note.

“You poor thing. When did this happen?” He teases you while wracking his brain for clues. “I- you- babe- s-s-s-se-ser” you fail to answer, stuttering his comment about getting you pregnant.

“Ser…..cervix…..? …..ah! You liked the thought of getting pregnant, didn’t you?” Cold liquid overflows and runs down your tits again, your nipples purple and stout from the temperature change. You’re desperately nodding in response, but he’s rocking your body so vigorously with his thrusts that it doesn’t even translate. You’ve never felt called to be a mother. But the thought of being filled by Dr. Gideon, baring his marks for 9 months? The Vitamin T shot certainly turned you feral because you needed to be bred like you needed AIR.

Victor hummed in thought, leaning down to lap up the juices spilling from your tits. Split tongue wrapping around one nipple, and a cracked thumb teasing milk out of your other breast. He’s making mental notes about the taste and chemical makeup…..but this time he may be over indulging himself.

You’re on fire. The buzzing on your clit, both holes stuffed, and him lapping at your tits? You can’t even think anymore. His dick digging so deep it feels like it will rip through your stomach. Your walls fluttering to no end, clenching so hard it’s like your cunt is trying to push and pull him yourself. You needed him everywhere, and every inch of you is reeling in ecstasy. The heat and pressure in your stomach has swelled so much, you just try to relax into Victor’s thrusts.

No wonder the pressure…..because something wet starts trickling down your cunt. Victor’s dicks twitch in response.

Every muscle tightens in your body, desperately clenching to control your bladder. Would it mess up his procedure? Would he kick you out for the mess? Or even, would you be able to look him in the eyes after getting fucked so hard that you pissed?

The doctor knows exactly what’s happening. He pulls the hand from your tit and presses down on your lower belly to amp up the pressure.

“Just let go, sweet mouse. Relax for me, you’re almost there, pretty girl. I’ll give you your baby soon.”

You’re gone. Pleasure washes over you, rippling goosebumps once more, and you empty everything you’ve got. Screaming at this point, mouth dry from being left agape, you’re flooding his lower half. Whether you squirted, pissed on him, or both, you don’t even care. Cause you feel light as a feather. And so. Damn. Good.

Both of your bodies now tremble in sync, yet Victor persists his fast pace.

“I-it’s…t-t-t-oo….m-m-much…ughh” your nails dig desperately into your restrained palms. You’d give anything to dig your nails into his back.

Victor unlatches from your breasts and stands up straight to get a good look at you. “If that were true, little mouse, then why haven’t you pressed the emergency button that’s still in your hand?”

Caught.

Dr. Gideon hurriedly pulls the dick out of your ass, wipes it off on his slacks, and presses it into your pussy alongside his other length. He’s not a monster, just a pervert.

One dick is slightly longer than the other, so one hits your cervix a fraction of a second before the other. Always keeping you stimulated. You’re writhing uncontrollably. Borderline Exorcist-level shaking. You’re shedding so many tears that your hair is getting damp.

“I wonder….” Victor’s panting now, finally struggling to get out words. “since…I’d be…filling you with…..twice the amount……….amount of c-c-cum…”

Your stomach’s tensing.

“Will…..Will I…..give you….t-t-twins…”

Your breasts are tender and leaking again. Your peripherals are blacked out, and you’re dangerously close to your upteenth orgasm of the day.

“P-p-please, stop. I…..I…..I c-c-can’t…..take…..it…..”

He leans forward, sternum scar scratching your skin. Victor tilts down to give each of your nipples a French kiss. Your faces now nose-to-nose.

“You can take it, and you’ll take my babies, too.”

You clench his dicks so hard that you milk thick, long ropes of cum into your womb. Each spurt hitting another sensitive patch along your walls, scattering aftershocks with each of his twitches.

Victor clicks the red-lit lens to stop recording as you both gasp desperately for air. He pushes the goggles onto his forehead. Another devilish grin creeps across his lips.