These Lips Should Have Stayed Sealed
Author's Note
I am so not proud of some of the visuals in this. And if you fap to the first half, no shame. Just put it away after that first half. Believe me, you'll want to.
Happy reading.
Oh, and don't eat grilled cheese while reading.
-Pencil
These Lips Should Have Stayed Sealed
You unlock the door to your physician’s office and set down your bag with a heavy thud. It’s Friday, you remind yourself. You only have a few appointments scheduled for today, and then you can be completely done for the weekend. You can kick back, relax, and forget about this job for just a little while. Well, after you furiously beat off that is.
You settle your thoughts and body briefly, then call out into the hallway.
“Er, Nurse Redheart?”
The slender, pale face of your favorite nurse pops around the corner of the doorframe. She smiles brightly at you, and you force yourself to smile back. She’s the one comfy part of this job, even if you only get to see her on occasion.
“Yes doctor?” she says in that sweet, sweet voice of hers.
“I’m ready for my first patient, you can send them in whenever they get here.”
She flashes you a gleaming, eyes-closed smile.
“Of course doctor!”
Her face retreats around the doorframe once more. You watch after her, wishing she’d stay, pat your head gently, and tell you it’ll all be ok. That you can get through one more day, that you can hide your…”feelings” from your patients for just a little longer.
You turn your attention down to the crotch of your pants. You glare at it disapprovingly.
“You better fucking behave today,” you tell it.
It remains silent, and you hope it stays that way.
Some people might say that you have the absolute best career in the world. You, however, are not one of those people.
When folks go to med school, it’s generally for things like becoming a surgeon, a pediatrician, that dude who finally cures cancer. Once there, they find out what they’re good at or makes the most money for them, and they go with that. Well, you went to med school, all gung ho for world changing brilliance, and what are you good at?
Looking at pussy.
Hey, no one was less surprised than you, to be honest. You’d always said that you were a great connoisseur of porn, and knew a good pussy when you saw it. But to make it a job? At first that sounded pretty awesome. You’d make money from putting your fingers inside vaginas, touching labias, stroking vulvas. All in the name of medicine.
But…then a funny thing happened.
After about a week, you suddenly found that looking at porn didn’t do much for you anymore. You looked at pussies and…nothing happened. It started to feel like work. You could get it up just fine if you looked at tits. You could fuck anyone who came to you, and with a doctor’s salary, you got plenty of that. But you had to notice her legs. Her eyes. Her smile. Her personality. Gay things like that. Pussies just started being…boring.
You’d thought that was a major problem, and then you came to Equestria. Buddy…you had no idea what problems really were.
Once you’d gotten settled in, you’d sought out your old career, since you knew you were good at it. Sure, these were ponies, but the whole pussy thing couldn’t be that different, could it?
Well, when you first looked upon a pony vagina as it laid back with its hooves in the stirrups (hah), you saw that it was like nothing you’d ever gazed upon before. The shape, the way it moved, the way it felt. It was completely different, completely new! And…well…your dick noticed that too.
Now, even though months have passed, you still can’t help sporting an aching boner whenever a pony scoots down on the table to give you a look. It’s not fun. It’s not pleasant. Trying to be professional while you’re sweating bullets is something you’re not used to, and trying to make small talk and give directions is even worse! Even scrubs pants feel fucking tight, and they do absolutely nothing to hide your eagerness. You’re just lucky that no pony has asked why you hold not one, but several clip boards on your lap for every session.
No. Being turned on for 8 hours a day, with no chance to get off, it torture. You were never into edging, and you’re certainly not into it now.
But duty calls. And god help you, you’re going to answer it. The pussies demand it.
You once again steady yourself mentally and wait for the dreaded sound of hoof-falls to make their way around the corner. Sure enough, after a few moments, they finally do.
You do your best to smile reassuringly as an awkward-looking purplish mare tuns the corner. She’s got this dark hot-pink hair, and her cutie mark is a bunch of grapes with a strawberry on the side. She looks genuinely terrified to be there, which means you have to be slow, calm, and gentle with her. Which takes longer.
It’s going to be torture.
“Hi there,” you say, extending a hand for her to shake. “I’m doctor Anon, good to meet you.”
She shakes your hand.
“Hi, I’m Berry…"
You check the chart.
"Says here you're coming in for a pelvic exam and an STD test."
"Yep. So, do I just…” she glances nervously at the table and it’s odd looking hoof-rests. “Get…up there?”
You nod, trying to keep the blush out of your cheeks. She’s already blushing, best you not be doing it as well.
With a nod, she climbs up onto the table, lies down and, achingly slowly, inserts both her back hooves into the holders. You stare, spellbound as she does this, knowing that you can’t look away. She wiggles her rear as she gets better situated, then glances up at you around one of her ample flanks.
“Is…this ok?”
You swallow hard as you pull on your gloves.
“C-could you scoot down a little?”
At your request, she slides her body towards you on the table. Her legs part, and the prone squatting position delicately opens the folds of her marehood. Your mouth goes dry as you look upon it. It’s lilac colored, but the insides are a warm and inviting pink. Her clit seems to stare at you, glistening and moist, and to look back, unblinking. You’re caught up in the moment, and you feel a sudden pressure against the clip boards in your lap as you wheel your stool over to her.
“Er…everything alright?” you hear her ask.
Crap, you’ve been sitting here in silence for too long.
“Yes of course, you’re doing fine,” you say, trying to sound confident, “There’s no need to worry or feel self conscious, I’m a professional.”
Your voice cracks on the word “professional.” She doesn’t seem to notice.
“Move down just a little more,” you instruct, as you get ever closer.
She slides down a little. She blooms like an opening rose. You feel a surging throb of blood as your dick again insists that inside that pussy is where you need to be. It looks so inviting, so warm, so wet. You can’t look away.
“Like that?” she calls.
“Oh yeah baby, just like that.”
“What?”
“Oh! Uh…yes, just like that,” you quickly stutter out.
Damn you, have a little more control next time. Too much of that and you’ll get fired.
You reach out a trembling hand, which you quickly steady, and touch the soft lip of one side of her vulva. There’s a small bruise here, not the concerning kind, but definitely a noticeable one.
“You have a bit of swelling and bruising,” you say as calmly as you can. “Miss Berry, have you been sexually active in the last few days?”
She’s silent for a moment, and you see her opening tighten imperceptibly at your words.
“W-well,” she says slowly.
“It’s alright, I’ll keep anything you say confidential.”
“Then…yes, I have,” she says in a sudden rush. “He’s a new partner and, and he’s a bit of an unusual case, not anything I’m used to, and well…we weren’t exactly gentle, so I can see why there might be some bruising down there. It was a little rough…oh, not that I’m complaining, it just…makes sense.”
Her pussy twitches as she mentions how rough it was. Hyyyyngh…
“Ah,” you say, trying to keep the squeak out of your voice. “Well, try to be a little more gentle next time, ok?”
She laughs.
“I can’t promise you anything there,” she says.
Oh god, this pony is going to be the death of you. You push down against the clipboards, trying to make your straining dick behave.
“Ok, I’m just going to…check inside, so you might feel a little pressure.”
You gingerly slide one of your fingers into her opening, and feel the way the soft tightness of it wraps around you. Her body flinches inside at the sudden intrusion, and you suppress a moan of wanting. Sweat is already rolling thickly down your face, and you can feel swamp-pit threatening your underarms.
“Y-yep, everything feels fine,” you say. “You’re…very tight though, could you relax a little?”
“Sure, I’ll try.”
Her grip on your finger lets up. But only a little. God she’s still so tight. She whimpers a little, and it’s all you can do not to spurt precum all over the front of your pants.
At this point you could bring out the speculum, get a good look, but you don’t think you can take it this time. Just a quick swab to test for any STDs, and that’s it. You slowly withdraw your finger, hating how much you love the wet shlick sound of it sliding out of her. Her pussy winks once and closes gently again as you exit, and you swallow the lust full groan threatening to escape your throat.
“Ok, everything looks good,” you say quickly. “Just going to swab you so you can get tested for any STDs, and remember to have safe sex with your new partner, ok?”
You insert the swab, move it circularly twice, then withdraw it and put it into a sterile plastic tube for testing. You try your best to focus on that tube rather than the beautifully haunting image of Berry’s marehood as she straightens up on the table a little.
“Thanks doc,” you hear her say as she climbs down.
“Of course, come back and see us any time. You can call for your results tomorrow.”
You flinch as you feel her hoof on your shoulder.
“And doc?”
You turn to glance over your shoulder, and find her blushing deeply, all the way to the tips of her ears. She glances away sheepishly, her eyelashes fluttering.
“Thanks for being so gentle,” she says softly.
She quickly trots to the door before you can respond and exits.
You collapse back against the wall, your stool almost rolling out from under you as you do. Your cock is almost trembling with how hot that all was. You feel like you’ve just done something distinctly sexual, and you can’t even react to it like a normal person would. It hurts, genuinely hurts, now, and all you want to do is get some kind of release.
You throw a quick glance at the clock. Maybe there’s still time before your next appointment. Maybe you can-
“Doctor Anon, your next appointment is here!” you hear Nurse Redheart call from the other room.
Fuck. You haven’t even had enough time for the swelling to go down! And now you’ll have to look at another wet, savory, inviting…
“S-send them in,” you call back to her.
Someday this job is going to kill you.
——
One more appointment. You repeat it to yourself over and over again as your most recent patient exits your office. You’ve been through seven pelvic exams, and now that’s all you have to get through, just one more. Then you can go home, take off and who knows, maybe burn these pants, and release a day’s worth of tortuous ejaculate. You’ve certainly fucking earned it.
You glance at your appointment clip board and find you don’t recognize the name. Oh well, you’re sure it’ll be just as teasing as all the others you’ve seen today.
“Nurse?” you call to the other room.
“Yes doctor?”
“You can send in the last mare.”
“…right away, doctor.”
Something about the hesitance in her voice sets you ill at ease, but you do your best to focus on the task at hand. One more patient, then you can go home and take care of business. The business being your dick.
You hear the sound of hoof falls on linoleum as your patient approaches. You prep your usual, comforting doctor’s smile and face the door from your stool, ready for…
A small green figure stands in the doorway, smiling at you. She’s much shorter than the other ponies, and her white hair is pulled back into a messy little bun. A red polka-dotted shawl or maybe handkerchief is looped around her neck, and one wiry hair spirals out of her forehead to dangle in front of her face. Her hip proudly displays the image of a pie, and you’d guess right away she’s part of the apple clan.
The other prominent thing you notice about her is that she’s old. Like…really old. You’ve never seen a pony quite this ancient around Ponyville before. Her lower jaw trembles as wrinkly lips crease into a smile. Her wizened eyelids slide heavily and unwillingly down over orange eyes as she blinks at you. And her back legs knock against each other, just as she stands there, and you’re kind of afraid she’ll collapse right there in front of you.
You blink at her and she blinks back at you for a moment as you take her in.
Ok…so…this old mare needs a pelvic exam. That’s…unpleasant. But hey, you tell yourself, at least this might be a welcome reprieve from the arousal you’ve felt all day. And you’ve looked at old lady pussy before, it’s no big deal. Then a horrifying thought hits you and you suck in a short, uncomfortable breath.
What if you’re turned on anyway? What if old pony pussy STILL gets you all hot and bothered? Then you’ll know there’s no farther to fall. Then you’ll know there’s no escape from this curse except maybe death or a career change into poverty. You have to just pray that you don’t get a boner. That’s what you have to focus on.
You force out the customary smile.
“Well hello there miss…Smith,” you say, glancing at the clipboard.
You extend a hand and she teeters forward to take it. You’re surprised by the strength in her grip as she grips your palm with her hoof and shakes it vigorously.
“Well howdy!” she claims in a cracking but enthusiastic voice. “Just call me Granny. Hooooo-ey! If you’re not the cutest little doctor I ever seen!”
You blush at the unexpected and rather eager sounding compliment.
“Er…thank you,” you say slowly.
You remove your hand from her and she beams up at you. You give another glance to the clipboard and confirm what you know has to be the case.
“So, you’re here for a pelvic exam?”
“Why I sure am!” she exclaims. “I havne’t had nothin’ down there a long while and I figured it was high time I got everything down there stirred up a bit to make sure I’m healthy and all that. Bit hard for me to reach down there or see myself ye know.”
Well that’s a weird way of putting it all, but you suppose it’s all factual information at least. You gesture to the table.
“Alright, well hop on up there and let’s give everything a look.”
You suddenly realize that hopping up might be a little difficult for her. As she tries to climb onto the table, you reach out and support her hooves and flanks to help her maintain balance. She jumps a little at your touch, then blushes at you and playfully swats your arm.
“Oooh, an eager one are we?” she says slyly.
Again, weird, but you suppose you are eager to get out of here. Maybe it’s showing through your expressions or hastiness to get her onto the table. She manages to climb up, and then you see her glance between the stirrups in bewilderment.
“What in the blazes are these fer?”
“Well,” you explain clearly and slowly, just in case she’s hard of hearing. “You put your back hooves in those, then face your rear towards me.”
“On my back?”
“Yes. And you scoot down until your rear is right at the edge of the table. It’ll give me a better look at everything that way.”
She raises one bushy white eyebrow at you.
“Seems kinda new fangled,” she says, scratching her chin. “But if that’s how you kids do it, I suppose I’m game.
She plops both her hooves down into the stirrups as you turn to get on a new pair of rubber gloves. You snap them tight, and take a slow breath. Just remember, try not to get a boner. If you get a boner then you’ll never…
You turn to face the old mare, and freeze.
Well, you certainly don’t have a boner. In fact, you feel like it may have inverted itself. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you stare at her pussy, and it inexplicably stares back.
Before you sits a vertical slit, almost like any normal horse pussy, except this one looks like it’s…wilting. You’re reminded of the look of a pear, sliced in half and left to rot. Or perhaps a pair of drapes that have grown faded, wrinkled, and dusty with age. There are thin white hairs lining the outside, and the inner lips are a strange shade of beige, like they were once green but forgot what the color actually looked like. It also seems to droop at the base, like it’s trying to fall out of itself. You can’t help think of what a scrunchy looks like when the elastic finally starts to fail. It’s also shimmering with an off-white, mostly clear fluid.
You’re not sure how long you sit there, staring at the ancient vagina, but at last you come back to yourself.
This is a good thing. No boner. No arousal. You’ve looked at some gross pussies before…well, not this gross but pretty gross. You’re a professional. You can do this.
You move towards her, and a soft musky aroma wafts to your nostrils. It smells like stale cinnamon toast crunch cereal. You suddenly find that you have no desire to touch it, as if it might somehow come alive and assault you. But you have to. Just get it over with and go home.
You take your gloved hand and gently touch the outer lips with your fingertips, and find they give underneath your touch like undercooked brownie batter. You’re almost afraid they’ll fall off.
“H-have you had any sexual activity recently?” you manage to ask, even though you can see it’s a no.
“Nope!” she exclaims.
She sounds a little happy, and the saggy folds of skin around her labia quiver as she speaks. You withdraw your fingers sharply as if you’ve been shocked.
Come on, Anon. This is what you’ve trained for.
You gently pull back a layer of outer lips, and find a powdery white residue there. Almost like parmesan cheese. You blink at it, repulsed, but know what your next move is. You grab a swab and daintily brush at the stuff to remove it. It forms small puffs of white cloud with each stroke. You realize, with horror, that it’s dust.
“Just…cleaning some things up to get a better look,” you mumble.
“Mnh, you go right ahead darlin’.”
A shudder involuntarily runs through your entire body. Usually you’re good at the small talk thing, even with a boner, but right now it just feels wrong. You continue your inspection, finding no bruising, but a lot of discoloration. You didn’t even know some of these shades of green existed. She whimpers softly as you brush one of the more inner folds, and giggles like she’s been tickled. The tremor you feel through her flesh makes you feel a little sick inside.
You realize it’s time for you to inspect the inside. You take a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
“Ok,” you tell her, I need you to scoot down a little more, and then you’re going to feel some pressure inside, ok?”
“Al-righty!” she says happily.
Then she wiggles herself down towards you.
…
You know what it looks like when you first cut a grilled cheese sandwich, and then you pull the two halves apart? Yeah, it looks like that. You’re not sure what the orange stringy stuff is that’s stretching between her lips, but as her pussy spreads open, you can see how thick and globulous it is. The image of that grilled cheese sandwich sticks firmly in your mind, but by the smell, you imagine it would have to be made with Bleu instead of cheddar.
You suppress a roll of nausea. Ok, now you really don’t want to reach in there. Just one finger, really quick, then you can burn these gloves.
You slowly bring your index finger up to her gaping, gray-pink opening and press it inside. A sound like someone pushing their whole fist into a jar of mayonnaise resonates in your small office. Through your gloves, you can feel a cold liquid sensation coating your finger. Dear god, why is it cold?
Drips of clear and orange mixed together work their way up to nestle between your first and second knuckle, against the meeting spot of your fingers. As you move, you feel it slide there, slippery and thick. It feels almost like it’s spreading with a mind of its own, trying to envelop your hand.
Hating every sensation, you curl your finger to each side, feeling for abnormalities. Instead, you just feel thick liquid. Some of it even feel a little…chunky. The old mare wiggles her hips a little.
“Heavens to betsy,” she says dreamily. “Haven’t felt anything like that in decades. Ye must be pretty good at your job.”
God you wish she was wrong.
“Th-thanks,” you say.
Her opening tightens around you briefly, as if trying to suck you in further, then releases. You see a large slimy nub, like a snail without its shell, opening up at you, then closing again. It’s mottled in color, and you can see veins across it. It looks…like an alien trying to emerge from an egg. Is she…is she winking at you?
“Ok,” you say hastily, “That’s about it, everything seems-“
“Now hold on there!” she says, a little indignantly you think, “I paid a pretty penny for this appointment, and I intend to get the full benefit! Ye gotta get way back in there!”
With no warning, she reaches down, surprisingly spryly for her age, and grabs the hand that’s still partially against her pussy. Before you can protest, she plunges it into her weeping gash, all the way up to your forearm. The sound this makes is reminiscent of when you’re removing vital organs from a recently slaughtered deer.
You let out a cry of disgust and anguish and try to jerk back, but she holds you fast inside her. You can feel flesh ridges on the inside undulating against your bare flesh now, and feel the sticky, thick fluids seeping into the sleeve of your coat. The smell is unmistakable, and you can sense that it’s staining your skin. Maybe permanently. Now you’ll always smell like week-old lasagna.
Oh god, this old-lady pussy is trying to eat you!
The old mare lets out a warbling moan, like some sort of yodeler, and her walls clamp down on you. You feel her twitching, writhing, moving herself forward and back against your arm like a living dildo. The juices begin to spatter, and you feel wet bits of them impact your face. Vomit rises into your mouth, but your screaming keeps it down.
“MISS SMITH!” you shriek. “What the fuck are you doing??”
She moans a little louder, but between vaginal contractions, you sense your moment. With a jerk, you drag your arm back out of her. A rush of gooey globs of orange and transparent beige gush forth, trickling onto the table and floor afterwards. You don’t even have the heart to look at what color your arm is.
The old mare blinks at you, seeming a bit annoyed.
“Hey, I’m a payin’ customer, what’s the problem sonny?”
You try to put all this together in your head, try to make sense of what’s going on. But it just can’t come together, it doesn’t…
Wait.
As you speak the next words, you feel a sense of dread spreading over you.
“Miss Smith,” you say slowly. “What did you think you were paying for?”
She shrugs her wizened shoulders.
“I figured it was one of those massage parlor deals. I pay you to touch my downstairs drawers, you give me a nice little cleaning out, and you make me feel like a young lady again. You were doin a derned fine job too if you don’t mind me-“
“This is a doctor’s office!” you practically scream. “This is a medical procedure, I’m not here to…to…pleasure you!”
She blinks at you, seeming dumbfounded, then shrugs once more.
“Well why didn’t you say so! Heck, I’ll just go bother that little dragon Twilight’s got again. He’s pretty fun after you slip him enough horse tranquilizer.”
And before you can say another word, she hops off the table, gives you a nod of her head and a wink, and exits your office.
You’re trembling all over, and you feel yourself gagging at the stains and smell still filling the room. The sticky sensation of sweat and fluids make your face feel slick, and your coat is…oh god, your arm.
With slow, creeping horror, you look down at your arm. Maybe it’s not that bad. It can’t be that bad, there’s no way. Your eyes finally rest on the scene of the crime and…
Finally, you can no longer suppress the vomit.
——
You lock up your office and give a nod to your nurse. The office is actually looking pretty nice right now, but you're glad to be going home for the day. It took weeks of cleaning, but you’ve finally gotten the place to stop smelling like ancient cottage cheese. Other damage has been harder to repair, but at least that’s a start.
“Goodnight doctor!” your nurse calls. Then she adds “Oh, I was thinking of heading out for a drink this evening, care to join me?”
You smile kindly at her, but shake your head.
“Appreciate the offer, but I sort of have a date.”
As if on cue, the large red form of your date for tonight rounds the corner. You smile at him, and he smiles back.
“Oh, hey you,” you say brightly. “Meet you outside?”
“Eyup!” he says.
You give each other a knowing look, then you watch as his swaying rear exits the building. You turn back to find your nurse looking at you in shock. Her mouth hangs open a little, and she shakes her head in disbelief.
“Oh, I’m sorry doctor,” she says, suddenly noticing your incredulous gaze. “I just didn’t realize you were…er…into stallions.”
You shrug and give a defeated sigh.
“Oh, it’s…a recent development,” you say haltingly. “I’ve found that, well…”
You give a mournful look to your office, and a shudder passes over your body.
“I’m just not into the female anatomy anymore.”
-END-
