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No More Doctor Nice Guy Part 6 free porn video
No more Doctor Nice Guy Part 6
After a few moments where it seemed he was deciding where to start,
Kevin inhaled deeply and began.
"My parents died when I was very young."
"Mine too," I blurt out. But my interjection as an attempt at a show of
solidarity produced a scowl of consternation from him. Alex Turner would
have known to passively listen when a patient was finally opening up;
but as Alex Moore I seemed compelled to be more of an active participant
in a conversation.
God; I found myself momentarily reflecting; I can't keep up with the
changes in me. But it wasn't about me, right now, as much as part of me
seemed determined to make it.
"I was 6," he added, as a statement of clarification, regrouping from my
interruption.
I felt this was salient information. Plenty of time for emotional
attachment and the foundation of a functional personality. This was a
positive thing in the grand scheme; not that he'd lost his parents of
course; but that they'd been around long enough for him to know and
remember love.
"I was an only child. I inherited everything in trust when I was 18. But
it was all a bit late then to be honest," he took another large breath
before continuing on. "My mum's sister took me in. But she wasn't like
mum. I mean she was nice to me but ... maybe she was na?ve, or maybe she
turned a blind eye." He paused for a brief moment and I feel like I'm
developing an inkling of what's coming.
"I was 7 when my Aunt's boyfriend first sexually assaulted me. And,
well, it went on for years."
I let out an uncontrolled gasp that sounded more like a whimper. Even
though I was prepared for something like this to be unveiled in those
last moments my reaction could not be contained. I had encountered
stories such as this far too often in my former life as Dr Turner, and I
knew without doubt that nothing fragments the soul quite like
molestation does.
I suppose I should have guessed this before now. Maybe if I'd have done
my job properly in the first place that fateful night in the hospital I
could have got to the bottom of it. Although I feel the peculiarities of
Kevin's curse may have made that hard.
"Oh Kevin! I'm so sorry that happened to you." My sympathy comes like a
reflex.
"I've already said I don't want your pity Alex. And I suppose it's
irrelevant now anyway. The girl that happened to... well she never existed
did she?"
"You know that's not true," I refute instantly. "Who we were still lives
on in us. It might seem convenient to detach ourselves from the past,
but I'm not sure it's healthy."
Was this the right thing to say to him though?
Should I let him dissociate from the girl he once was to allow him some
psychological protection? It seemed like a pathological course of
action; but I had never encountered the uniqueness of all this before. I
didn't know what was best. Even if there still was Alex Turner left in
me I was floundering.
Regardless, he didn't respond but instead returned to his focussed
narrative.
"Anyway; like I said; it went on for years. So that by the time I
reached puberty, I was primed and groomed and happy to give myself to
whomever. If it served my means," It was such a bleak self assessment.
"I'm going to speak your language now Alex. Because it was drummed into
me by all your type of people," he does not hide his disdain. "So these
aren't exactly my words; but you hear them often enough and it
eventually becomes a part of your own summary. One psychiatrist said I'd
been prematurely sexualised. I suppose that's right. I knew that I hated
men, but I could manipulate them so easily to my own end. As for my
female peers, they were immature girls initially, then as we aged,
tiresome rivals."
"So, as a result, I didn't form friendships, or, what you would call any
long term emotional attachments. I was always alone. I guess I got to
like it that way."
"But I think I told you I was pretty. And I could be charming. That's
part of the sociopathic shtick I'm sure you know. So I could orchestrate
people to my own requirements."
"One thing I did right though was when I received my money at 18, I
didn't squander it. I didn't waste it on drugs or booze or partying. I
paid for my education. I went to a second rate college and got my law
degree, and schmoozed my way into a job at Fraser and Morgan. Which I'm
sure you've heard of."
"The television lawyers?" It was a relatively new thing, in this
country, to see lawyers advertising on television.
"You can say what you're thinking. You mean the ambulance chasers!"
I don't have a response for that, I remain silent.
"Law was the perfect field for me. I mean the sort of person I was. And
an unscrupulous firm like that one was ideal. I had virtually free reign
to wreak havoc. And that's who I was. A successful lawyer with no real
moral compass. I could get sex whenever I wanted it, and always used it
for my gain. And I also got a great deal of enjoyment out of humiliating
men. They were such pathetic creatures. Driven solely by their dicks.
But I guess you know the rest from there. I fell foul of Mr Black.
Clearly he came for me. In the guise of just another dweeb-ish loser
whom I took pleasure in crushing. I guess I wasn't a good person. But he
turned me into a worse one. Like you said. A predator. Just like my
supposed Uncle was to me. And the succession of men after him. I have
become the very thing I hated with all my heart."
So that's what he was inferring when he implied his nightly hunger for
women was a far greater cruelty than it would have been for any other.
He was right I guess. He was being forced to behave the way he had
envisaged all men were. Behave somewhat like the men who had abused her
over all those years. But there was a still a line in the sand. I didn't
know for sure, but I felt in my heart that he still had not crossed it.
"But you're not a predator," I leap to his defence. "You are compelled
to do what you do but you don't purposefully hurt people. You seem to go
out of your way to avoid it. You aren't like the men who abused you.
You're nothing like them. Remember the other day; my first night; when I
tried to run away, you were pretty kind to me."
"You have no idea what you're talking about Alex. That night I was still
getting my head around it. And you were such a melodramatic mess. I
didn't get a chance to process things. But by the next day I had. So on
Wednesday night, when I went to the brothel, I can tell you my tune had
changed. You probably don't wanna know what I was thinking about the
whole time, but I'm telling you anyway. I was revelling in how much you
deserved what happened to you. How poetic it was. How disempowered and
vulnerable you now were. And it turned me on in a sadistic way. You came
to represent every male from my past. And I did want to rape you. It was
lucky I had the prostitute. I mean I was still a bit rougher than I'd
like to admit, but I did decompress. I think that was because, at least
in part she became the representation of you. And you in turn were the
representation of every man who raped me; molested me; fucked me or
diagnosed me. I wanted to channel my hate inside you. I wanted to rip
you apart with my dick."
I am more than a little bit scared by the wildness in his eyes and the
spite in his voice, and of course the whole unsavoriness of the context,
but I have to rely on my own anecdotal evidence. "But 24 hours later I
gave you that chance. And you didn't do anything of the sort to me. I
mean you weren't tender, but you were by no means cruel."
"I didn't treat you with a lot or respect. I mean the anger was there.
Have you forgotten about the lube? But yes my disposition towards you
had changed enough. I dunno. Maybe you were just sucking me in. Yet it
felt like you actually cared about me, so how could I punish and
mistreat you? And I even thought about the male you. As psychiatrists
go, you were a long way from the worst of them. You let me go. You also
thought about what medicine might be best for me. You certainly weren't
completely heartless. So I gave you the benefit of the doubt."
I guess that was fair, about what I'd done as Alex Turner. I tried to
rationalise his medications. Technically he should have had a two week
washout from his old drugs due to the potential risk of a condition
called 'serotonin syndrome', but I was worried enough about him to start
them straight away. And I knew they were safe in overdose too.
I felt that we were both dancing around the obvious. We could continue
to question each other's motives, but it was a pointless thing to do. I
studied his face looking for clues of a pending violent outburst. He
hadn't met my gaze for a while, but he seemed in control. Tentatively, I
collapsed my elbow down and rested my head on his shoulder, near his
slightly smelly armpit. He did not resist or withdraw. I couldn't see
his face clearly now so I turned to look at the ceiling, just as he had
been for quite some time. It had been holding his attention when my eyes
were on him.
"Kevin, everything that's happened between us in the last 72 hours. It's
about laying down the foundations of a relationship. We're looking after
each other. And even though I'm changing by the moment, my decisions are
still my own. And what's driving me most is the need to care for you,
and help you. All the more for what I now know. And you're conflicted,
because on the one hand you don't want to like me; but you can't help it
because you understand the sacrifices I'm making for you. I'm sure it's
a symbiosis. I think it will be a lot easier for us both,
psychologically, and generally, if we start behaving like a husband and
wife. I mean in so much that we treat each other with dignity, and look
after each other."
"Alright," he concedes. By representation of that he wraps his arm back
over me, re - encircling me. My internal conflict over that act seemed
to be dwindling too. Last night I'd been desperate to be held when I
wasn't, and tonight had felt decidedly uncomfortable when Kevin had
responded to my jested suggestion by doing exactly that. A clear sign I
wasn't sure what I wanted, and probably some residual heterosexual male
guilt.
"I'm not entirely sure what that entails," Kevin added. Referring to my
marital implication. But to be fair neither was I. "I'll just have to
trust what remains of the psychiatrist in you. But I'm willing to give
this a go. Whatever the hell it actually is."
"Okay." I feel my heart rate quicken with anxiety. "With this in mind
there is just one thing I need to ask straight up."
"What is it?" He senses from my delivery he may not like it.
"Only me," I state.
"Pardon?"
"I know you didn't choose me as your wife. And you don't actually owe me
monogamy. But I can't in good faith let you have me if I have to share
you. And maybe I'm being a bit pious about it, but I don't want you
sleeping with hookers. I'll do whatever you need me to do, and be
whatever you need me to be. I know I'm not as good as what you're used
to but I'll try to be a quick study. I just need you to treat us in that
aspect like we really are married."
"Wow Alex!" He doesn't seem perturbed though. "You are serious about
this. Okay fine. It's not like I particularly enjoy my nocturnal
visitations."
"Umm. Great. Thanks," I reply uncertainly. I feel compelled to offer him
more though. "All this Kevin, it's not about winning. We can never
defeat Mr Black. But he thinks he's dammed us both. I just want to prove
him wrong. Even if just to you and me. That we can still forge a decent
life for ourselves, be good people, in spite of what he did to us."
"I do admire your enthusiasm, I have to say. I didn't feel any of this
optimism 6 months ago when this first happened to me."
"That's because you were alone then. You aren't alone any more." I
didn't mean it to be cheesy, and because I couldn't see his face I
wasn't sure what his reaction meant, but he quickly withdrew his arm and
climbed out of bed.
As he stood he announced, "I need a shower."
"Me too," I replied distractedly, pondering his reaction.
"Well you can join me."
I tense and he laughs. It was clearly meant as a joke.
"I don't think I'm quite up to there yet," Would he expect me to be? I
hadn't minded shower sex back before. Some women I'd been with didn't
like it. You couldn't really both be under the water fully with the
shower head I had, and when I pinned them up against the tiles they'd
complain their back was cold. And sometimes it just got dangerously
slippery. It was never like it looked in the movies that's for sure.
Anyway, perhaps that's something I can leave for future sexually
liberated Alex to navigate, I decided.
As Kevin walked towards the en suite he looked back at me. Thankfully I
hadn't been staring at his arse or anything.
"You know something Mrs Moore. The more time passes, and the less you
behave like Alex Turner, the cuter you appear to become." It came out
lecherously.
I blush again. I suppose he was right though. The longer I was Alexandra
Moore, the further I became Alexandra Moore. Just as Mr Black had
planned it I imagine. No point fighting the inevitable.
But what I wasn't sure about was whether my emerging feelings for Kevin
was because I now understood the magnitude of the hardships he'd endured
both before the curse and since or because they were a synthetic
construct induced by Mr Black.
I was certain they were at least in part the former. Kevin, or whatever
he was called before, had endured enough as it was. Mr Black's curse was
an added and unnecessary hardship in my opinion. I, on the other hand,
had led a privileged life before the curse, so I really had much less to
complain about if we were to keep score.
I concluded that wherever my motivation came from didn't matter. I was
determined to make Kevin's life better. And I actually began to believe
I meant better than it had ever been, both before and after Mr Black.
But his opinion of me still unnerved me. Was it merely that I was so
sexually obliging that kept his disposition towards me pleasant? Would
he turn on me if I somehow transgressed?
I hoped not, but those were the thoughts that danced through my head
when I tried to get to sleep.
*****
I felt more positive the next morning, Saturday. We had a lazy start
before I had to head to work.
It would still be a further seven days before we finally had a day off
together. Our first. Nearly a fortnight since my curse had begun. I'm
not sure why I felt the need to look forward to it, but so far, and
until then, our lives had been governed by work and there was an element
of us being like ships passing in the night. Kevin's shifts were fixed,
and weekdays only. Mine were variable and included weekends. I would be
rotated onto nights at some point too; thankfully still paired with
Kristi. With my current shifts and this impending nocturnal omen my job
wasn't exactly conducive to newlyweds trying to establish their
marriage.
But we would just have to make do till then.
I prepared a meal to take to work on my late shift and left the rest for
Kevin to reheat and eat that evening when he was home alone. He had no
one to go out with and felt it prudent he stay away from temptation.
As it was he pounced on me when I got home, and although I probably
would have preferred to freshen up he didn't seem to mind. I tried to
put on a performance but I was so tired I felt my efforts had taken a
backward step compared to the bumbling intimacy of the night before. In
the process of the act too I couldn't help harking back to our
conversation from that evening. At which point I felt a disquiet rising.
Such a base emotion too, being an element of fear. It hadn't occurred to
me till he spelt it out, how much hate he'd had for me. And how easily
he could hurt me. I still wasn't completely sure that he wouldn't.
Nonetheless he was suitably sated by our coitus.
I left him slumbering when I slid from bed before dawn Sunday morning
for my early shift.
***
"You look tired Hon," Kristi remarked at the end of morning Handover.
"It's that short turn around of a late-early. I'm still getting used to
that."
"Yeah I know. I've banned Marty from touching me when there's such a
small time span between shifts. I much prefer sleep to sex. But maybe
that's just me."
"No," I remark. "Not just you. I read a study once about male rats
injected with testosterone. They sacrificed both food and sleep for sex.
I think that's a fair representation of every male ever," I add with a
grin.
"Geez Alex. You know some weird shit!"
"It's the sort of stuff you read in journals when you're a
psych....nurse," I correct myself just in time.
"Well what about you? Do you and Kevin institute a 'No fly zone?'"
"No. We're newlyweds. Every day and twice on Sundays," I joke. Why am I
being so candid with her?
"Well today is Sunday," She giggles. "You know," Kristi then begins a
statement. "They say if you put an M&M in a jar every time you have sex
in the first year of marriage, then eat one for every time you have sex
after that, it takes on average over 10 years to empty the jar. And some
people never do!"
"And you think I'm full of bizarre facts?"
"Looks like we both are. I guess that's why we're friends," she noted
warmly.
It felt nice. To be referred to as a friend. Even if it was just a
fledgling relationship. I'd never needed friends before. But I was so
fragile now. So different. So seemingly dependant on others.
"I'd like to meet Marty," I say. Not specifically responding to her
thought, but affirming it nonetheless.
"And I'd like to meet Kevin," she responds in kind. "How convenient our
rosters are identical. Let's say Friday after our boys have done their 9
to 5 working weeks. My place for dinner?"
***
Thoughts of friends and dinner dates drifted through my head as I wiled
away at work. It kind of helped distract me at one particular point when
I was prising a large lady's legs apart whilst Tracey tunnelled away
trying to insert a urinary catheter.
This was yet another medical peculiarity. A lifetime ago when Alex
Turner was an intern he became proficient at inserting urinary catheters
in males. No one showed me, back then. Although it was kind of
intuitive. Sticking the tube down the hole wasn't exactly challenging.
Yet that might have been an oversimplification. Sometimes getting the
catheter past the prostate was quite the trick. Nurses on the other
hand, had to do a lengthy certification to be deemed proficient in male
catheterisation; once again showing some sort of policing inequity.
Conversely, inserting female urinary catheters was seen as strictly a
nursing duty. And one you didn't need to be certified in for that
matter. Whether this was a hark back to some sexism of yore I wasn't
sure. Obviously the urethra was shorter and less likely to get
obstructed but, even with a good anatomical understanding, finding the
urethra often wasn't easy. Rummaging around between the labia, onto the
vulva, sometimes the hole was mere pin point. This lady was an
exemplification of how hard it could be. Large amounts of thigh flesh
had to be separated before we were even in the vicinity. As tiring as it
was keeping her legs up and apart, I certainly felt I had the better
part of the deal, as Tracey poked around. She was stuck in much closer
proximity, receiving the full force of what the male me may have once
referred to, as "Box waft."
My mind began to race then. So much for being an educated medical
professional. As someone recently coming into possession of vagina there
was so much I didn't know.
How does one tell if I smell 'normal' down there? This lady clearly
didn't. Some sort of bacterial overgrowth I guess. Should I stick my
head between my own thighs and take a whiff? I'd been so busy trying to
avoid acknowledging my own genitalia, even though it was in current
active use, I hadn't really taken the time to inspect it. And honestly
neither had Kevin much. Apart from a little bit of digital geographical
mapping he'd mostly just been ramming his thing in me. At some point I'm
really going to have to take to a hand mirror and have a look. Just to
make sure there was nothing funky going on. I probably need to ascertain
whether I even have a clitoris. There'd been no indication so far that I
did. With twice as many nerve endings as a penis you'd think I would
have felt something by now, even when just wiping after the loo. Perhaps
Mr Black hadn't given me one. Maybe he wanted to make sure I didn't
enjoy being a woman. I could have told him for free that was never going
to be the case. Not willingly anyway. But maybe that's part of his plan
when I'm a rampant slapper. Continually craving sex because I'm never
actually satisfied by it. How horrifically grim!
"Alex! Hold her still," Tracey barked.
The patient was squirming quite a bit whilst I'd been away with the dark
fairies. She was only semi lucid and currently non verbal.
"She's clearly in discomfort. Or even pain," I growled back, after
appraising things when regaining my focus. "She needs more local."
Xylocaine, also known as topical lidocaine, came in preformed syringes
that concertina-ed down when compressed, squirting a thick gel on,
around and even up the urethra. Making things numb and lubricated for
inserting the catheter. It was pH balanced so as not to sting sensitive
mucus membranes. It made catheter insertion, whilst never particularly
pleasant, much more bearable.
After I applied another syringe Tracey seized her opportunity. "I give
up. See if you can find her bloody urethra. I need some air!"
So now I was in the firing line. But without too much delay, I slid the
catheter in and straw coloured urine in the tube marked success.
"Beginners luck," Tracey sniped.
I was tempted to retort with something like. 'I know my way around a
woman's perineum pretty darn well sweetheart.' But I did not want to
start any rumours I may be held account to later, so I said nothing.
Tracey meanwhile abandoned me to the clean up, which lead to, whilst I
did so, the germination of an idea. As I thought about what lay in wait,
literally, for me, when I finished the shift, I slid three of the
xylocaine syringes into my scrub pocket.
Necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention. Hopefully no more
painful sex for me.
*****
Dyspareunia.
That's the medical term for painful intercourse.
I had to concede that, pending my future physical inspection unearthing
unexpected surprises, my pain was more psychological than physical.
I had to get used to it. Which more specifically meant I had to come to
terms with my lot. In the meantime, numbing my nethers would be a
suitable stop gap.
If I couldn't feel what was being done to me, maybe it would disturb me
far less.
I was well aware that lignocaine was also the base ingredient for
desensitising sprays used by premature ejaculators, but Kevin would be
wearing a condom. I was confident that my self medicating would not put
his willy to sleep.
It was warmed from being in my pocket and indistinguishable from KY in
clear colour and texture.
After getting home and undressed I applied it liberally in preparation
for Kevin.
He didn't comment when he saw I had once again resorted to lubrication,
but once he started I realised that my plans had been effective, if
perhaps a little overdone.
I couldn't feel anything!
Aside from resisting the urge to say; 'Is it in yet?' Or later. 'Are you
done yet?' Both of which may have dented his frail male ego. I realised
that if Kevin was being too rough, and was causing me genital trauma,
there would be no way I could tell till the local anaesthetic wore off.
Which would be too late. Another great idea Alex! I scolded myself.
When he was done Kevin didn't roll off me straight away, but stared at
me till I was forced to return eye contact, which I had been strictly
avoiding.
"You don't enjoy this at all do you?"
"No. Of course not," That was probably too dismissively negative, in
hindsight.
"Are you even trying to? I mean the other night, before our talk, you
seemed much more into it."
I sighed. "I suppose because I'm more scared now."
"What? Of me?"
"No," I denied. But quickly relented, "Well yes! In part."
"But why?"
"Because of what you said the other night. How much you wanted to hurt
me. I guess it made me realise how easily you could. You said you liked
seeing me so vulnerable. And I am. I'm so disempowered, just like you
said. I'm at your mercy. And this right now, where a part of your body
is inside me. It's fucking terrifying!" I wasn't thinking it was a pun
as I said it, but I suppose it was.
He remained on top of me, still appraising me quizzically.
"And I'm also scared because I have no idea what I'm becoming. I tried
to be all full of bravado and fatalistically accepting about it. I mean
just like you I won't be able to be anything other than what he makes
me. But I'm so frightened of what that is. Waiting and not knowing is
making it all the worse."
"And I know I wasn't perfect, but I was me. Now I'm somebody else.
Completely different. Slowly metamorphosising further into a person with
absolutely nothing in common with who I was. And I'll never be me again.
And it's all too much to take."
"God Alex!" Kevin began. Our faces still close together. "I think I'm
sorry I asked. You're so uptight you're actually sending yourself crazy.
I would have thought you'd realised. I mean we both know crazy pretty
well. I'd suggest you get laid to chill a bit but we know that doesn't
work with you," he surveyed me cynically.
I imagine my countenance expressed my mixture of resentful angst.
After sighing he continued slowly.
"It was a fleeting thought born from years of anger Alex. And there is a
big difference between having it and acting upon it. I'm not about to
perpetuate the cycle simply because I was raised with abuse. I feel like
I'm trying to honor the deal we made but you're not. And it's because
you don't trust me."
"I... I am trying Kevin. But I'm smaller and weaker than you. It's awful
feeling so frail and pathetic."
"Well try imagining what it's like to be a 7 year old girl then!"
"Okay," I remark heavily. "I suppose that's fair. Maybe I need that
perspective. What I'm enduring is not a patch on what you went through.
And I should stop being so self indulgent. But it's easier said than
done."
"I hate to say it Alex. But you kind of do need to cleanse the
psychiatrist from your brain. Your own mind is going to destroy you if
you keep this up. You probably need to practice what you preach if you
truly wanna live through it. Just be Alex Moore. Be the friendly caring
nurse that you have the potential to be. Just be my wife. And take the
leap of faith that I'll be your husband. And we'll look after each other
like married couples do. This is your plan Alex; remember. And it's a
good one."
I nodded slightly. He was still on top of me but supporting his own
weight off me.
"So firstly you need to trust me. And realise it's not the end of the
world. Here. I have an idea. This will help engender that. Trust I mean.
And maybe finally get you realising it's not all bad. I know what I used
to like. So just let it go."
He started to slide down me.
It took a moment for me to realize where he was heading.
"Kevin No! It's not going to work. I can't feel anything."
He momentarily stops his descent. Of course he misinterpreted my
meaning.
"You just think that because you haven't had the right spot hit yet. It
seems like men can never find the clitoris. Even when you give them
their own."
In spite of my insipid protestations he proceeds to dive into my groin
but I have absolutely no idea what he's doing.
I'm completely insensate.
He nuzzles around in there for a while and I suppose I have an inkling
of what he's up to but all I can feel is a little pressure now and then
but nothing more. I want him to stop but he's doing a selfless thing.
It's a big concession on his part. There's only one acceptable action
for me right now.
I have to pretend.
I start making moaning noises like my sexual partners had done in the
past. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm going to have to fake an orgasm.
God. Do I know how?
As I prepare myself for that Kevin's head emerges from my lap.
"Alex," he mumbles, like he has a mouth full of cotton balls. "Why the
thwuck has my thongue gone complethly numb?"
"Oh Shit!" I screech, as my internal monologue escapes my body.
"Kevin I'm so sorry," I begin with a sheepish giggle. "I can
explain....."
TBC
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