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For Spencer O'Reilly, time seemed to slow down in the cold, monotone doctor’s room, in all grays and paper-whites. What were only minutes became centuries, his patience straining the longer he stayed, body bent exactly as the nurse directed him to, the longer the sterile clinic air brushed against his more… reactive parts.
He shifted, feeling more like he was at the veterinarian’s as a pet than a human at the doctor’s. His palms were just starting to ache, his knees awkwardly bent.
Finally, the door opened, creaking loudly, closing and locking just as soon as it swung. His doctor, a man named Dr. Benson, entered, footsteps hurried.
“Mr. O'Reilly?”
“That's me,” Spencer said. He tried to crack a smile (even if he couldn't actually see the doctor), but his lips refused to turn. “I'm—I’m here for my COVID test.”
“I see,” the footsteps came closer, the doctor crouched to his level, “and I see the nurse set you up, didn't she?”
She did.
In the middle of the small doctor’s office, Spencer was in a peculiar position. For one, he was on his hands and knees, like some kind of barbaric animal. For two, he lacked any sort of clothes—even his socks were gone. Nothing hid him.
Spencer couldn't help but be a little skeptical. “Is it really necessary to be…” He trailed off embarrassedly, glancing down at his completely nude body, before giving Dr. Benson a slightly pleading look, “like this?”
“I'm afraid so, no other way I’d be able to monitor your body's responses,” Dr. Benson told him kindly. He was an older type, with neatly styled hair, half of his voice covered by a medical face mask. The other half showed intelligent, gleaming eyes that Spencer trusted on instinct—although, to be fair, Spencer trusted a lot of people by the tell of his gut. Most people were good, especially in times of crisis.
“Okay,” Spencer mused back. He understood completely. “This… this won't take long, will it? I–I have a yoga class to get to after this.” He coughed, face flushing yet again. “S–sorry if that was rude, man. Ever since the lockdown, I haven't been anywhere lately, so I've been kinda behind on my social skills, but that's not an excuse—”
Despite every part of his brain saying shut up, shut up, shut up, Spencer rambled some more, the volume of his nervous babbling getting quieter every second his mouth rattled on. Dr. Benson waited patiently until he was completely silent for him to talk.
“This'll only take a minute,” assured the doctor. “Turn your head back and just look at the wall, alright? I know some patients can be startled by this sort of treatment, it's definitely new just like this virus is, so if you think it’ll be more comfortable for you to focus your attention someplace else, please do so.”
Spencer nodded stiffly.
“I must ask before we begin,” Dr. Benson started, “have you ever had sexual contact in this manner before? Specifically in the area of which the swab will enter?”
“I… uh…” Spencer nearly blushed. He reminded himself that he was a full grown adult, and he was educated as well—there was nothing shameful about sex… or the lack of it. “No. I haven't. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all,” Dr. Benson answered. “It just tells me to prepare you before it enters. That won't be a problem, will it?”
Spencer shook his head, lost for words, and turned his head to the wall. He ignored the uncomfortable pain in his wrists—and he especially ignored the fact that his cock hung, flaccid between his legs, nearly touching the ground.
Latex gloves were snapped on. He could feel the presence of Dr. Benson behind him, those cold gloves pressing themselves onto his ass, flashing his warm body with sudden coolness.
With no small amount of confusion, his ears perked up as the unmistakable sound of spitting echoed across the near-silent room—and then, that silence was completely, irrevocably broken as Spencer let out what could only be called a squeal.
“Ah! Doctor!” He cried out. His hole was being ruthlessly slathered with the doctor’s saliva, the man’s thick, gloved finger slowly exploring the space inside, poking and prodding, the thick spit experimentally squeezing in there. His breath sped up, coming out in broken, too-quick gasps. “Dr. Benson! Doc—tur!”
Dr. Benson asked quickly, “Are you in pain?”
“N–no, but—”
The thick finger’s movement slowed, and for a foolish second, Spencer thought that this was it, this was over, before the sound of spitting again echoed again. Dr. Benson added another of his fingers.
Two now. Inside of him. This was more action than he'd ever had in his entire life.
A small, tiny part of Spencer’s brain went more, more, more, more, more. The majority of his brain cells spoke otherwise.
Spencer was hardly a confrontational person, and he just hated to bother good people who were overworked and understaffed, but even he felt like he needed to speak up. “Are… are you sure that's hygienic?”
“Quite sure,” Dr. Benson told him. “This is so that the swab will have an easy way of entry. I wouldn't want to put your body under any more stress than necessary…”
The latex made a squeak as it dove deeper inside, thrusting, quick and efficient, bordering on professional despite the very unprofessional things that were happening here. Another finger was added, three!, and Spencer’s knees nearly gave out.
“O–okay!” Spencer yelped. A thin line of drool escaped from his mouth as he tried and failed to speak. “I—ah—understand completely! D–do your… do what you think is best!”
“Whatever is best for the patient,” Dr. Benson hummed in return. “Now, ass up, Mr. O'Reilly. To the ceiling, can you do that for me?”
Spencer nodded hurriedly, his bitten-off whines making any attempt at speaking useless. His spine shifted as he put his bottom right in the air, now like a cat mid stretch.
His fingers inside Spencer’s hole, previously untouched, were an entirely new feeling. His lower half was aching with embarrassing, incurable need, his body heating up without his permission. Stay professional! Spencer chastised himself, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he squirmed uncontrollably over the touching. He's just doing his job! This isn't anything sexual in nature! He's just… trying to help…
“Don't move,” the doctor ordered, twisting his fist inside. “You'll end up hurting yourself if you keep moving.”
Spencer’s stomach bottomed out hearing the stern tone. “Sorry, sir,” he said, croaking, feeling so ridiculously sensitive right now he could hardly think. “Is—is the swab about to go in?”
“Yes, it is,” the other man murmured, voice low and slow.
There was some shuffling, some zipper being pulled down, and suddenly—
“Ah! Oh, fuck! Fuck!”
Dr. Benson’s large, hard cock was slowly sliding into his asshole, pushing at the entrance, breaking through what Spencer only thought the fingers were breaking. His virginity.
He gasped, “Doctor!” but he couldn't even find the words to tell him to stop. Spencer’s eyes flooded with tears, emotional beyond any reason. It felt like his entire being was spinning, spinning, spinning. His nostrils stung, his cheeks were redder than ever, and he knew no other thing to say than—”sir, please, please…! Please, please, please!”
Dr. Benson grunted. His tone remained polite despite the situation at hand. “Please, what, Mr. O'Reilly? Does the patient request…” He thrusted harder, his speech broken up. “A different method for COVID testing?”
“I… I think… hngh… I–uh—” Everything he learned was turning to mush. The new, intoxicating pleasure nearly turned him cross-eyed. Everything he knew became irrelevant. The closest he got to a complete sentence was, “I think, I think, I think—” before he broke off into a loud, immodest moan.
The doctor’s hands roughly massaged his ass, pulling at it like it was putty, slapping the soft skin until it spanked pink. When the man’s latex-covered nails sunk in, Spencer knew he'd have marks for days after. Knew he wouldn't be able to sit down afterwards.
He knows better, Spencer thought, biting his lip to keep the screams down, as he was being pounded from behind. His own precum dripped to the floor in splashing droplets. He went to medical school for this. He knows better than I do. He's a doctor, he knows best…
A breath stumbled over him. He clenched all his muscles, but it only made Dr. Benson’s manhood, nestled inside of him, going in and out, that much more prominent.
Dr. Benson drove himself deeper, the head of his cock brushing against Spencer’s prostate. That was more than enough to drive him over that precarious edge.
“Dr. Benson!” Spencer whined, the first words he'd managed in a good few minutes, his eyes wide yet unseeing. His brain went utterly empty in ecstasy. “Dr… Ben…! DR. BENSON!”
Spencer saw stars, saw the whole galaxy, actually, suddenly passing through his blank mind, an endless abyss, dark without a single hint of gravity. Everything, everything at all, was light and fluffy, nothing wrong existed in the world, and the lockdown wasn't happening, and Spencer was somewhere—nice. Somewhere without problems, somewhere that needed no thinking. Even though his brain was completely emptied, rocked to the core by his orgasm, he was absolutely full in a way he'd never been before.
As though spurred on by his spillage, Dr. Benson continued his journey with even more vigor. Spencer thought, mouth watering as his spot was being drilled into over and over again, cock! Inside me! Inside me right now! More cock!
High-pitched, breathy noises escaped him. His body let go of all pressure and, suddenly, the thump of thoughts no longer troubled him. Like he existed to be fucked. Like there was no greater joy out there than experiencing this.
Still going strong, Dr. Benson rutted into him hard and fast, quicker and quicker the longer he was inside of Spencer, his own climax pulsing hard, until, finally, the dam broke—and the cum spilled out hot and heavy inside of him, coating his insides fully.
He cried out when it happened— never, never, ever, has he felt like this before, fuck, fuck, fuck —and, then, pure primal urges took over him as Spencer arched his back, allowing further access, wishing he could have that cock pressing into his stomach, wishing he could have that dick just everywhere. All the time. Finished, filled, full.
He could feel it, feel the doctor’s sperm, feel everything his body was put through in the last, what, twenty minutes? How long had it been? And, a more important question, was there anything better than this?
“You…” the doctor heaved, slowly back away and exiting his cock’s place deep inside of Spencer, “you are clear of COVID-19, as proven by your orgasmic reaction.”
That logic made perfect sense, although, to be fair, any logic would've made sense right now. Spencer’s knees wobbled, his arms feeling like jelly, but he managed not to completely collapse just yet. His cock still leaking cum onto the floor, he turned and gave a bright grin.
“Y–yes! Thank you, doctor! Thank you!”
The doctor smiled back, murmuring something about what an easy, good, obedient patient Spencer was, a compliment he took in stride.
“Is it done?” Spencer asked, breathless, going out of his dog-like position, relaxing into a casual one on the floor, a leaking, cum-covered mess. The wave of utter embarrassment had not yet arrived.
“Not yet,” the doctor answered, and he gestures for Spencer to put his ass back up on display. Spencer, without a single question, did so, bending his back so Dr. Benson could see whatever he was looking for.
Dr. Benson said, “This is for medical documentation,” before he pulled out a thick black marker from his coat and wrote CLEAR directly on Spencer’s skin, just above his cream-filled hole. Then, lower, Dr. Benson quickly wrote the date, the clinic, and his own name on the back of his quivering thighs. “There,” he said when it was all done. “That's good.”
“Was I good?” Spencer asked, voice hoarse and faraway, too fucked out of his brains to complain about anything. He lowered his bottom back down and sat. The marker’s writing was cold against his cheeks.
In response to his question, kind Dr. Benson yanked up his pants, fixed his white coat, and spoke about allowing Spencer O'Reilly extra time until he felt ready enough to leave—no additional charges added to the medical bill. For being such a good patient, he reassured.
In the end, ten extremely aching minutes later where the nurse would finally give back his clothes, Spencer would leave a happy, scientifically-proven healthy man.