Kim Hae-rin — Treatment (1)

The moment the door opened, the first thing to catch my eye was a medical bed — wider than any single-occupancy hospital bed had a right to be.

Beside it sat a table, neatly laid out with sealed gloves, disposable towels, a tube of clear lubricant gel, and a row of adult toys whose purposes I could only guess at. One looked like a vibrator; another was a loop-shaped silicone device. The rod-shaped tool with the rounded tip looked so blatantly made for insertion that my eyes kept snagging on it.

A notice was posted on one of the walls.

It was bound to be nothing but the usual boilerplate. It looked like a wall of text, so I turned my head away.

The moment I stepped in, Mora shut the door behind me. The electronic lock clicked into place, and that one sound changed the whole room. The hospital noise from the corridor outside cut off as if severed, leaving nothing behind but the faint sound effects chirping from her smartphone.

Ding.

Eyes still fixed on the screen, Mora spoke.

"Take your clothes off."

"Excuse me?"

"You have to undress for treatment. Take off the patient uniform too and come over to the bed."

"I mean, sure, but could you maybe watch the tone—"

"Then shall I say it nicely? Patient Kim Hae-rin, would you please disrobe for your outpatient release treatment? There. Good enough?"

"God, what a piece of work…" I grumbled, loud enough for her to hear, but Mora didn't take her eyes off her smartphone. Tapping at the screen with one hand, she dumped the chart carelessly onto the shelf beside the bed with the other.

I rested my fingers on the buttons of my uniform top. The thought of undressing in front of another person made my hands strangely reluctant to move. Being ignored while she stared at her phone was somehow even more infuriating than Han Seo-yeon. The second I get home, I'm writing that review. Kim Hae-rin's outpatient treatment: 0.5 stars. Attending nurse's attitude, unacceptable.

The top dropped to the floor. I undid the drawstring at my waist and the uniform pants slid down in one smooth motion. It hadn't even been that long since my shower, but down below was already damp with Cowper's fluid. Whether from the medication or the pheromones saturating the air, my cock was already half hard.

Only then did Mora lift her gaze. Her eyes passed over my face, drifted lower, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came to a stop at my crotch.

And then I saw the corner of her mouth twist. Mora whipped her head to the side and covered her mouth with the back of her hand, shoulders shaking as she fought down a laugh.

"Hey."

My voice came out low.

"You laughed, didn't you."

"I didn't laugh."

"Yes, you did. Just now."

"I was holding in a cough. Koff—."

Mora faked another cough, glanced once at her smartphone screen, then looked back at me, her expression already settled into tired blankness. "I was told to avoid direct comments about patients."

"Comments about what?"

"Which is exactly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠why I'm not saying a single word right now. This counts as considerate."

"That's even worse?!" I snatched both hands over my crotch.

Mora set her smartphone on the nightstand — or so I thought — then picked it right back up. "First, I need to confirm your hygiene. Hands away, please."

"I washed."

"I have to write it on the chart, which means I have to verify it with my own eyes."

As Mora pulled on her gloves, the sound of latex stretching around her fingers rang out crisp and clear in the treatment room. It was the same sound Han Seo-yeon's gloves had made earlier, yet the impression was night and day. With Mora, it felt like a convenience store clerk yanking on plastic gloves at the register. Her laziness showed in everything she did, not just in what she said.

"Sit on the edge of the bed."

I did as I was told, and the cold sheet pressed against the backs of my thighs. Mora didn't even bother with the chair; she simply bent at the waist and peered at my lower half.

"Rolling the foreskin back."

"Could you maybe not do it the instant you announce it—hngh."

Her hot fingers closed around my cock. Perhaps because she was a succubus, her body ran warmer than a human's. My short cock was caught between two of her fingers far, far too easily. Ah, damn it. There I went again, thinking about how small it is.

Mora drew the foreskin down, baring the glans. Thanks to the shower I'd taken earlier, there was hardly any white residue left. She didn't wrinkle her nose. Instead she rocked my cock back and forth in her hand, checking it from every angle.

"Hm. Hygiene checks out. A little residue, but nothing that would get in the way of treatment."

"See?"

"It's not 'see' — it's because you just washed. If you'd come straight up from the first floor, we'd have had to air out the treatment room."

"Do you have to put it like that?"

"You strike me as the type who wouldn't get it if I said it tactfully."

This girl has an actual talent for pissing people off.

Mora didn't roll the foreskin back up. The moment my bare glans met the open air it quivered with sensitivity, and my thighs gave a jolt. Mora withdrew her gloved hand. "Your sensitivity's on the high side."

And then, still in that state, she began untying the drawstring of her own pants. She undressed with such ease that I had no idea where to put my eyes. The woman who had just been inspecting my cock was now sliding down her white pants like it was nothing. Her underwear was black, for the record. Her build was slim, her hips not especially wide, but the line of her inner thighs ran smooth and unbroken. Her succubus tail slipped out through the hole in the back of her pants and swayed, unhurried.

"Stop staring."

"Then why are you undressing here?"

"Because it's the treatment room."

Mora pushed her pants down to her ankles and stepped out of them one foot at a time. Then she rolled her panties halfway down and climbed onto the bed — and through every second of it, the smartphone never left her other hand. She's genuinely addicted to that game.

"Any position or fetish you'd prefer?" Mora asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" The question was so far out of left field that all I could do was echo it back.

"Preferred position or fetish. Your chart says mesugaki discipline, but like I said, I don't do that. So I'm asking whether there's a substitute."

So abrupt — what was I even supposed to say? The mating press from every dōjinshi I'd ever read?

Mora seemed to wait for my answer, but her eyes had already drifted back to her screen. "Oh, what's that? Missionary, you say? Easy position. That works out nicely."

"When did I ever say missionary?!"

"I heard what you were saying inside your head."

Mora lay back against the bed. One hand held the smartphone; with the other, she peeled off her panties and flicked them aside.

Missionary, her legs parted just enough. The pose I'd only ever seen on my monitor, in dōjinshi, was now laid out before me in a hospital treatment room, complete with my attending nurse's blank expression. And yet Mora was still watching her screen. The phone played the little sound of cards being flipped.

"Go read the outpatient release treatment precautions posted over there." Without taking her eyes off the phone, Mora pointed at the wall with her free hand.

"Huh?"

"Read the precautions."

Still dazed, I looked at the wall.

No kissing. I couldn't tell you why that was the one line my eyes snagged on. I remembered an internet post I'd read once, about how a kiss meant something serious to succubi — semen could be swallowed as treatment, but a kiss was a token of love. What an absurd species. Then again, if the hospital needed a rule like that posted on the wall, something must actually have happened here before. Had a patient really tried to kiss someone mid-treatment?

I looked at Mora. Her fingers were flying across her screen, her face devoid of the slightest flicker of interest. If anyone had ever tried to kiss this woman, I was certain she'd have hit the emergency button with a look of pure annoyance before their lips even got close.

"You'll get hard on your own anyway, so climb up here and move your hips. I don't need to do anything extra, right? Use the gel there. The first insertion hurts from the friction," Mora said.

"Shouldn't you at least manage some foreplay? Are you actually my attending nurse?" Only after the words were out did I hear how sharp my voice had come. No, but I'm not wrong, am I? They'd said an attending nurse would handle the treatment. They'd said even outpatients got a dedicated nurse. So what was with lying there playing a phone game and telling me to take care of it myself?

Mora didn't even lift her head. "It's a ranked match, so I'll start moving once this round's over. Oh — and don't go too hard right from the start," she added, tapping her screen. "If I have to keep thrusting later to finish you off, that's a lot of work for me. Don't burn through all your stamina in the early game."

"From start to finish, every single thing out of your mouth is 'what a pain.'"

"If the patient wants efficiency, that's my specialty. If the patient wants to be swept off their feet, then they were assigned the wrong nurse."

She truly does have a talent for getting under people's skin. Not a mesugaki at all — just a dead-eyed sadist. Every word out of her mouth was expertly engineered to grind against your sanity.

The clear gel tube was cold and squishy in my grip, its cap popping open with a small snap. "I seriously have to do this part myself?"

"Hurry. You need to come when the medication peaks."

The moment I squeezed the cold gel onto my glans, my whole body flinched. "Hnn…" I rubbed it along the length of my cock, and every pass of my fingers over the head made me shudder.

Mora's pussy was right there in front of me. The exposed flesh around it was tidier than I'd imagined — no hair at all. Her skin ran pale, but her lips were flushed with a faint pink. With a body that lean I'd expected less softness, yet her inner thighs and the underside of her hips curved gently, pliantly. Her outer lips were slender rather than thick, closed in a long line, and the seam between them glistened wet. Whether that was arousal or some succubus-specific readiness response, I couldn't say, but a thin sheen of clear fluid shone there. Her inner folds tucked slightly inward, and through the parted seam I could see deeper pink flesh beyond.

If she was going to lie there spread open like it was nothing, then I was the only one in the room getting worked up. It felt like the woman who'd been working the desk with that bored blank face had simply picked up and moved to the bed. Her indifference turned me on even as it left a scratch right down my pride.

Wait a second — couldn't I just do the taming from right here, in this exact state? The moment the thought ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠crossed my mind, my cock went fully rigid. The glans glistened with gel, foreskin peeled all the way back, sensitive flesh bared. Maybe it was the payoff for three days of abstinence, but even the lightest touch of my fingers had Cowper's fluid welling up.

"Excuse me," I said.

"Mm." Mora's eyes never left her screen.

"I'm about to start. Are you seriously planning to keep playing?"

"It's still my turn."

"I'm literally about to put it in, though?"

"If the patient can't find the entrance, I'll help."

"Who said anything about not finding it?" The instant the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I was a virgin. No — wait, in this situation, which kind of virgin did that make me? Nothing had ever been properly inside my own pussy, and obviously I'd never put my cock inside anyone else's. In dōjinshi everything slides right in as long as the angle is roughly correct; reality could not possibly be that forgiving. But if I admitted now that I couldn't find it, it would be over. The chart said S — mesugaki discipline in big bold letters, and I couldn't even locate the entrance? No. Even if I couldn't manage it, I'd bluff my way through.

I climbed onto the bed, knees sinking into the sheet. I was the one receiving treatment, so why was the patient the one doing all the work? I gripped my cock in one hand and guided it toward Mora's pussy. Gel trickled down between my fingers and my shaft. The glans touched Mora's outer lips.

She was hot.

"Hnngh…" A thin sound slipped out of me. Mora's eyes flicked from the screen to my face for a heartbeat, then went back.

I nudged the glans a little lower. It slid along the seam of her slit, Mora's juices and my gel mingling into one slick film between us. I thought I had a rough idea where the entrance was, but the moment I actually pushed, the head skated off to the side — slip — riding up along the flesh beside it.

"……"

"Couldn't find it?"

"That is not what happened."

"Then why isn't it in?"

"I'm adjusting the angle."

"Okay. Fighting!"

Fighting? Did she seriously just say 'Fighting' to me?

I gritted my teeth and reset my position, lowering the glans a fraction further. This time it seemed to catch the entrance — I felt the soft folds close around the tip. My heart slammed. Finally. It's going in.

And at that exact moment, a sound chimed from the smartphone.

"Oh, I won," Mora murmured. "I'll help you now."

"I don't nee—" Before the word was even out, Mora's hand came down. Her gloved fingers closed lightly over my cock. No — "closed" was too generous; she barely rested her fingertips on top of it. My size was such that the grip itself had room to spare. Heat flooded my face all at once.

Mora said nothing at all. She was observing the 'no direct comments' directive she'd received from Han Seo-yeon with exemplary discipline, and that silence made me want to pick a fight for no reason.

"Don't say it."

"I haven't said anything."

"Don't even think it."

"That one's harder."

With tired eyes, Mora lined my cock up against the entrance. Her fingers pressed the glans just slightly downward. The slick lips parted, and this time the entrance locked into place, snug and true.

"Here it is." Her voice was dry as paper. "Push in slowly."

I drew a breath. The medication had my body running hot, sweat pricking at the back of my neck. The room was cold and clinically clean, but my core kept climbing in temperature. The fingers that had been guiding me withdrew, leaving the tip of my cock resting against Mora's pussy.

Now. It goes in now. My cock gave one heavy throb. The mingled gel and arousal glistened slickly around the glans. Mora picked up her smartphone again, propped it upright on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the bed beside her, and only angled her gaze slightly downward.

"There. Go ahead."

"This is beyond half-assed…" Grumbling, I eased my hips forward. The glans pressed against her pussy and the soft flesh gave way, and I felt myself slip inside — just barely, just a little. Mora's pussy was hot and soaked. Even with only the entrance touching me, the sensation was nothing like my hand or an onahole. Living flesh, not silicone.

Mora's face was as indifferent as ever. But the tip of her tail twitched once, small, against the sheets.

"Don't stop."

"I know."

"If you really knew, your hips would be moving before your mouth."

"Gah, seriously…" I pushed a little deeper. My glans spread the entrance open and began, at last, to slide inside.