Kim Hae-rin - Consultation (3)
The moment I opened the door, the first thing I saw was a white coat. A woman with black hair tied back low was reading over a questionnaire. A clipboard lay on the desk, and she was skimming the paper through half-rim glasses—then, at the sound of me coming in, she raised her eyes.
Red eyes.
Completely different from the succubus nurses in the lobby. Those women had smiled with their tails swaying lazily, dressed in outfits that seemed openly engineered to fluster patients. But this one was… how do I put it.
She had the eyes of someone sorting people into categories. She hadn't said a single word yet, and I already felt like I was being filed under a type.
What a way to start.
"Ms. Kim Hae-rin."
A cold, businesslike voice.
"Yes."
I answered with a needless chip on my shoulder. I didn't like being steamrolled the second I walked in the door.
But the doctor didn't so much as blink. She set the questionnaire aside and pointed the tip of her pen at the folding chair beside her.
"Sit over there."
The exam room was smaller than I'd expected. A desk, a folding chair, a low examination bed, and a mana-measuring device mounted on the wall. The smell of antiseptic lay over everything, threaded with that distinctive sweetness only a succubus carried.
Beneath the white coat: a red blouse and a black pencil skirt. The instant my eyes caught the crossed legs below that skirt, something throbbed inside my jeans.
Ooh, those look soft—
What is wrong with you, Kim Hae-rin?
I sat down and crossed my legs. The motion twisted my crotch, pressing my small cock against the inside of my panties. It didn't hurt, but the tip of the head grazed the lining and sent a little jolt through me. Days without masturbating had left it oversensitive.
Han Seo-yeon spoke with her eyes still on the questionnaire.
"It's been nearly a year since onset."
Almost a year. Coming from the doctor, it made me feel like an item about to hit its expiration date.
"Still, you came in time."
"In time?"
"Yes. It appears the permanent fixation hasn't fully progressed yet. Though I can't say for certain until the detailed tests come back."
Small mercies, I supposed.
Han Seo-yeon turned a page of the questionnaire.
"Your male organ size is listed as unmeasured."
The tip of her pen stopped on that line.
"We'll measure it. Take off your bottoms."
"I— what?"
My voice cracked mid-syllable.
God, I hated this. Weren't you the one planning to seize the initiative about a minute ago?
Han Seo-yeon drew a metal ruler from the desk drawer. A long, slender length of steel gleaming coldly.
Why did it have to be steel? It's going to be freezing to the touch. Would plastic have killed you?
No—seriously, why measure it at all? It says "unmeasured." Can't we just write "pending" and move on?
"It's necessary for treatment. Lower your pants and underwear."
I half-rose from the chair and reached for the button of my jeans. Nerves, presumably, because I fumbled it twice before it finally gave. The rasp of the zipper echoed through the exam room.
Ziiip—
I pushed my jeans down to my thighs and dragged my panties down with them. Cold air touched bare skin.
My cock hung limp in the open. Flaccid, it looked even smaller. The balls beneath it weren't the heavy, weighty pair I'd read about in other patients' accounts—more like a small lump awkwardly grafted onto my body.
Christ, this is mortifying.
This was the cock I'd been gripping and pumping every day in my room, and I'd had no idea it would look this pathetic in front of another person.
Han Seo-yeon pulled on gloves without a flicker of expression. Latex snapped taut over her fingers.
Snap. Snap.
"The measurement must be taken while erect."
"Uh, it'll stand up on its own, surely. You know, given how this place smells and all."
An unnecessary jab. Han Seo-yeon didn't acknowledge it.
"Since we need an erection, I will provide stimulation."
"Wait, I can—"
Before I could say I'd do it myself, her hand was already there. Her fingers cupped the underside of my balls.
"Nnh."
A sound leaked out of me. It didn't even hurt. Why was I making noises?
Han Seo-yeon lifted my balls with her fingers as if checking the inside, then let them settle. Next she kneaded and pressed them between thumb and forefinger—not squeezing hard, just slowly shifting position, palpating the surface.
"Hah… what are you doing?"
"Palpation. It is a process for checking the state of your Mana Condensation and whether the testicles are enlarged."
"Did it have to be like this, though?"
"Yes."
That left me with nothing to argue. Her fingers were on my balls, and my body reacted like a traitor. I'd held off masturbating for days. I'd breathed in the succubus nurses' scent in the lobby. What had I expected? With direct stimulation like this, there was no way I wouldn't get hard.
My cock stiffened by slow degrees. The skin drew taut; the head pushed up within the foreskin. Normally a few strokes got me there in seconds, but as if shy about the audience, it rose at a crawl this time.
Han Seo-yeon's gaze didn't miss a single one of my reactions.
"Mmm…"
She lifted my balls once more, then tilted her head slightly, as if something didn't add up.
"You said it's been a year?"
"Almost. Around mid-March of last year."
"Was it this size from the earliest stage of onset?"
"…Smaller, at first. After a while it grew to about this much, but since then it hasn't really changed."
Han Seo-yeon jotted a brief note beside the questionnaire.
"I will give you the details once the test results are in. That said, going by this palpation, your testicular Mana Condensation and organ development are both low relative to the duration of your condition."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means there is a possibility that inpatient treatment will not be required."
"…What?"
Not admitted? But I'd just assumed hospitalization was a given.
Even long-neglected patients could sometimes be treated through outpatient focused discharge, she said, if development was sluggish and the mana gathered in the organ was low. Nothing was confirmed until the tests. Her voice stayed calm, but my brain had gone sprinting down an entirely different track.
Small, therefore outpatient.
Small, so…
…small?
"Oh. Then that's good, isn't it? If I don't have to be admitted."
"It is not the pure advantage you seem to imagine. Your permanent fixation is imminent; if treatment fails, time will be short."
"Still, if being small works in my favor—"
"It is less 'works in your favor' and closer to 'low mana storage capacity.'"
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Would it have killed her to just call it an advantage?
I could practically hear the crack running through my pride. Did she know exactly how that landed and say it anyway? No—she probably just talked like that all the time.
So fucking annoying.
My cock stood fully hard now, the head still mostly sheathed, the shaft short and rigid. Han Seo-yeon approached with the steel ruler.
"I will retract the foreskin before measuring. Hold still."
Her hand touched my cock.
"Hnngh—!"
This time the moan escaped before I could stop it. As Han Seo-yeon took hold of the shaft, it wriggled between her fingers, and the foreskin was drawn down—sliding back slickly at first, then catching on a sticky resistance. The inside of a foreskin unwashed for days peeled away, and the glans was bared to the open air.
Sticky white residue that had been coating the inside clung to the rim of the glans and packed into its folds. The smell surged up all at once.
This was… not great.
Breathing it in, the thought flashed through my head that I was a walking public nuisance. A sour, long-stewed body odor, the smell of dried Cowper's fluid, and the thick reek of unwashed flesh blended together and spread through the room. Even I grimaced at it.
Han Seo-yeon's brows knit slightly, and a short sigh escaped her lips.
"Ugh—"
She didn't pull her hand away, though. Instead she turned her head a little, as if holding her breath, then picked up a disposable mask from beside the desk and fitted it over her face.
Ah.
I want to die.
At this point, having my 4.7 cm cock publicly announced would be a mercy.
"Ms. Kim."
Her voice came through the mask drier than ever.
"Have you not showered recently?"
"I did shower."
"And the inside of the foreskin?"
"That's…"
I faltered. If I admitted I'd skipped it because of an internet post, I'd be certifying myself an idiot. If I kept quiet, I was simply a filthy human being. Which one was better? No—either way, I'd already been caught.
"I read a post that said if you hold off masturbating for a few days, treatment goes faster."
Han Seo-yeon's eyebrow moved a fraction.
"And?"
"It also said that if you wash the inside while showering, the stimulation might set you off, so you should only wash the outside… that's what was written."
"Where did you read this?"
"On the internet."
"Was it an advisory notice from a medical institution?"
"…An anonymous forum post."
Han Seo-yeon said nothing for a moment. I lifted my chin for no good reason.
"It doesn't matter anyway, right? The nurses clean it with their mouths. Don't they?"
I shouldn't have said that.
I regretted it the moment it left my mouth, but words, once spoken, don't come back.
Way to bring up cleaning blowjobs while my smegma-stinking cock was hanging out on display.
The red eyes turned toward me, unhurried.
"Cleaning. With their mouths."
"No, I mean, that is, the post said…"
"Ms. Kim."
Her voice dropped lower. She didn't sound angry, exactly, but it was frightening.
"Being a succubus does not mean she loves everything about the male organ."
"…"
"Semen is a nutrient source in which mana is condensed at high concentration. To a succubus, it is worth absorbing. Smegma is a different matter."
Mask still on, she looked down at my bared glans. I felt it flinch under that scalpel-sharp gaze.
Easy. Don't cower. Small chilies pack the most heat, remember?
"Smegma is a mixture of secretions, dead skin, and residual body fluids. It is not semen, nor a mana-based food. It is unhygienic contamination."
"…"
"It is not that no succubus with a taste for smegma exists."
Why are you telling me that so earnestly?
"But the vast majority despise it."
So the post I'd read had been bait. The comments too—all bait, or the pranks of other idiots like me. And I'd believed it, moron that I was, and left the inside of my foreskin unwashed right up until treatment day.
"Smegma-vacuum blowjobs"? The smegma was mine. The vacuum was nowhere to be found.
"There is research indicating that intelligence declines after Futanari onset as a result of heightened libido. It recovers once treatment is complete, so do not dwell on it."
Delivered like some kind of comfort, Han Seo-yeon proceeded with the measurement. The steel ruler touched down on my cock, cold metal aligned to the reference point above the glans, and she checked the reading.
"4.7 centimeters when erect."
Just write it down. Why announce it like it's breaking news?
While she recorded it on the clipboard, I hung my head and stared at the floor, toes curling inside my slippers. It infuriated me that my cock was still hard.
Even with your owner dying of embarrassment, you're going to stand up straight and proud like that? Anyone who saw you would take you for some noble pine tree.
Traitor.
Han Seo-yeon finished the measurement and drew the foreskin back up. As the glans vanished beneath it, that clammy warmth returned.
"It is not severe enough to require cleaning before the tests, but before treatment, you must wash thoroughly under the nurse's direction."
"…Yes."
She peeled off the used gloves and dropped them into the medical waste bin. The mask, though, stayed on.
She said it while tidying her notes.
"A size like this is an exceptional case."
There it is again.
"Generally, the amount of mana in the body at the time of onset is known to govern the size of the male organ and testicles. Yours is small relative to the duration of your condition, and the palpation indicates low mana storage as well."
"So what am I, then—some low-mana pipsqueak case?"
I'd meant it as a barb, flaring up on reflex, but my voice cracked partway through. Han Seo-yeon let the barb sail right past her.
"The phrasing is inappropriate, but medically speaking, you are closest to a low-mana, long-neglect type."
And there she went, correcting me again.
"It will not impede your treatment. However, we must confirm whether permanent fixation is imminent and how far the internal mutation has progressed. You will take the detailed tests on the second floor now: mana resonance testing, ultrasound, blood work, and a fixation-rate measurement."
"What about admission?"
"That will be decided by the results. As of now, outpatient treatment remains a possibility."
It meant that instead of being admitted for days and managed by succubus nurses, it might all be over with same-day treatment. That was good. Obviously good. Finish fast, go home. And yet some expectation of mine had been left strangely unfulfilled—because the "bratty nurse" I'd written on my questionnaire might end up amounting to nothing?
No. It's not that.
It's just deflating, coming all the way to a hospital and being told "outpatient." That's all.
"Once you return from the tests, we will discuss the assignment of your primary nurse."
"A primary nurse? You said outpatient."
"Outpatient focused discharge still requires an assigned succubus. She will not be with you long-term the way an inpatient's would, but a caretaker is designated for the duration of each procedure."
"Oh."
So the bratty-nurse scenario was still alive.
Wait, why was I pleased about that?
Han Seo-yeon held out a disposable test slip.
"Put yourself in order and go. Submit this at the second-floor testing reception."
I scrambled my panties and jeans back up. With the clamminess inside my foreskin sharpening into awareness, the smell seemed to still be clinging to my body. I wanted to scrub myself clean, immediately.
Just as my hand found the doorknob, Han Seo-yeon spoke.
"Ms. Kim Hae-rin."
I stopped without turning around.
"In the future, take your medical information from hospital advisories. Not anonymous posts."
"…Got it."
The moment I opened the door, the lobby's air rolled over me. Mom rose from the waiting seats and looked at me.
"How was it?"
"They want me to do tests."
"What about admission?"
"No word yet. Might be outpatient."
Mom's face eased. Mine should have eased along with it, but the image of Han Seo-yeon in that mask popped into my head, and my expression stiffened into something weird. Mom studied my face and asked, low:
"Did you get scolded or something?"
"I didn't, actually?"
Waving the test slip, I set off ahead of her.
"I'm heading up to the second floor. Stay in the lobby—don't follow me."
"You can take the tests by yourself?"
"God, Mom. I'm twenty-six."
The second-floor tests were tedious and unpleasant. The mana resonance device involved cold gel smeared over my lower abdomen and a slow scan. The ultrasound took longer than I'd expected. Then came the blood draw, a urine cup, and a bizarre piece of magitech machinery that went by the name of a fixation-rate measurer.
The staff in every testing room were unfailingly kind. Which was a problem, because I was seething, and it's hard to stay mad at people who are being nice to you.
By the time the tests wound down, I was a little hungry, and after three days without masturbating, my body kept reacting to every drift of succubus scent in the air. Being small kept it from showing much, but the inside of my panties was damp with Cowper's fluid—and the state of the inside of my foreskin, I didn't dare imagine.
They said the results would be sent down to the consultation room. I sat back down in the waiting seats outside the 1F Initial Examination Room.
Mom sat a little ways off with a water bottle in her hands. She must have guessed I wanted to be alone, because she didn't come any closer.
I ran my thumbnail along the edge of the queue ticket in my hand.
Outpatient?
Inpatient?
And who would end up as my primary nurse?
The doctor had surely read what I'd written on the questionnaire. That "bratty nurse" line. What had she thought, that masked doctor, reading that entry?
'Can't even manage her own hygiene, and she's asking for a brat-taming.'
Ah.
I want to drive my head through a wall.
The call light above the exam room door blinked quietly, and from inside came the sound of someone moving around. They'd call me back in soon.
Inside my jeans pocket, I clenched my fist. In my panties, my cock began to slink toward another reaction—then, as if remembering the humiliation it had just been through, stalled out halfway, indecisive.
Yeah. Good. At least one of us knows how to read the room.