Doctor-Patient Cumfidentiality
Author's Note
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Doctor-Patient Cumfidentiality
“The doctor will see you now, Miss Redheart.”
And if I’m lucky, I think as I shoulder my satchel, there’ll be one more doctor here by night's end.
Oh. Whoops! Sorry, I’m a bit new with introductions—ironic, I know. What great chances for certification I’m fostering, right?
Anywho, my name’s Redheart. The room you can see a bazillion reflections of me in from every polished tile is the reception room of the Ponyville General Hospital. And the cute receptionist who just beckoned me into my final exam room here is... oh shoot I didn’t ask! Hold on…
“Sorry, what’s your name, ma’am?”
“Miss Colgate.”
Right! Miss Colgate! See, I can keep track of things, given enough time… wow, I know my brow was not that sweaty when I first got in. How can an air-conditioned room be so hot?
Nevermind! My focus is on becoming a part of Ponyville General. I know today's the day I do something unprecedented, unparalleled—like those brave six did so many months ago against Nightmare Moon. Goodness, who knew Princess Luna was under all that shadows and slitted eyes?
D-don’t tell Princess Luna, though! I’m already nervous enough as is in the waking hours!
Curse it, Redheart! Miss Colgate’s been staring at you for twenty seconds, think of something clever!
“Wait, though—Miss Colgate? Do you mean like the toothp—” Talk about the opposite of clever! Thankfully, I catch myself. “Sorry! Guess I’m the hundredth mare to ask, huh?”
Colgate flashes me a blindingly bright smile. Forget being a nurse, I’d give my left eye to be her dentist! Easiest job in Equestria right there. “Considering what that name represents, it’s fine. Here’s to a hundred more…”
“…In health and in years.” The slogan falls off my lips like honey, and Colgate nods cheerily.
Instantly, I’m re-reminded of why we ponies take up this red cross. Equestria, even now, has gone through so much pain we never really notice because of how mesmerizing magic still is. Someone has to take in the wounded, the wasting, the weary—and pump life back into them.
And the slogan that we nurse ponies adopt from the very first training course? That’s a testament to how we’re committed to promoting goodness as well as longevity. After all, there’s often a big gulf between being long-lived and long-loved (again, as Princess Luna could probably testify to. Sorry again, Your Highness.)
Speaking of, here’s the trainer now, and wow does he cut an amazing figure. A jawline you could sharpen swords with, a chocolatey mane that seems to blow in the nonexistent wind, and brilliant blue eyes that could swallow anymare he looked at whole.
“Alright, Miss Redheart! Right this way, you’re the last one in time for orientation!”
It takes a while for me to get off the chair to follow him and his scrumptious rump. Have to make sure he doesn’t see the damp patch that my arousal might've left on the cushion. Honest, I didn’t think I’d be feeling those sorts of thoughts on my journey to become a treasured healer of Ponyville.
For now, all I can do is hope that it’s jitters. Just the thrill of being chosen for this role in such a promising village. Worries that will vanish the second I pass that door. Past this, it’ll be all business.
Forehooves crossed!
My eyes feel like I’ve stuck them in wasps’ nests as I barrel down the halls, slickened by the torrents of water spraying from the nozzles above. They scrabble, they slide, but the direction they pull me in never shifts. I’m almost certain I know something’s wrong, but how fast it crept upon me—upon all us prospects in Ponyville General—still boggles my mind.
Memories flash before my eyes so rapidly that it nearly makes my stomach twist: of me sitting in that orientation hall, a shockingly large room whose white-washed walls almost seemed to blind me as they loomed over my head. Of Dr. Horse, standing as strong as a Pillar of Equestria and flanked by an army of maddeningly attractive nurses as he flipped through the projector slides. The images that presentation showed: boilerplate welcomes to Ponyville General, an endless litany of rules, and customs I’d already read about in my home a trillion and one times.
My limbs twitched for action. I longed for something to get rid of the overwhelming emotions wracking me—both nervous and nymphomaniacal—sooner rather than later. The inertia was killing me as surely as if there were an actual claw gripping my shuddering heart.
And lucky me, some twisted god of chaos apparently answered my plea. Which is weird, because last time I checked, that statue of him was still standing tall in Canterlot Castle’s gardens.
Really, how much of that whirlwind of commotion retained itself in my mind was a marvel of modern science. I remember the nurse pony that burst in to tell Dr. Horse why the lights outside our meeting hall door were flashing red. I know the moment when the air conditioning cut out abruptly, and suddenly it wasn’t just my flop-sweat stinging at my nostrils, but dozens of prospective nurseponies. I remember seeing the alarm lights glinting in Dr. Horse’s wide eyes, and read some very un-Hippocratic words whispered out from his shuddering lips.
Then, I remember the thing still ringing in my ears now, despite it coming from another Doctor’s lips - Snowheart, I think?
“Everyone to the main doors! We have an emergency with one of our patients! Go!”
I don’t know what made my hooves motor in the opposite direction from the flood of mares rushing through the halls. Celestia knows I’m not usually the one to go off half-cocked. Heck, I nearly had the town guard on my house because I mistook an oddly placed mop in my room for a bugbear! Why am I the pony, in the middle of a crisis, that's heading toward danger without a plan?
But the second that question whips into my noggin, it’s answered. It’s answered every moment I think about those six brave mares, all half my age or even lower, that likely felt the same when they faced Nightmare Moon. It’s the realization of chaos, hitting in the heart of what’s supposed to be Ponyville’s most stable premises, making my own heart leap in indignation and sorrow.
Like, what am I if I’m just like everypony else in the middle of a disaster? We’re nurseponies! Prospects or not, we passed the exams, attained all the certificates, and breathed into all the ponyquins! Danger’s something we all should be running toward, and I…
…I can’t be like I was when the news of Nightmare Moon’s return came down the grapevine.
I can’t cower under a bed while the world crumbles around me.
Not anymore.
So, I gallop down the halls, and I follow the official nurseponies, and I say nothing but nod a lot. Eventually I find myself huddled with those I hope are my future coworkers, in a room with shuddering lights, standing before a barred-shut door.
It's... exhilarating.
This time, there is enough visual stimuli for me to piece together the situation, almost as fast as the pony before us is explaining it. The trails of green slime. The snout-curling, ozone-y smell that accompanies magical bolts. The gurgling howls from the door at the northern end of the room. And also, the lighting here is flickering for a different reason; the power is fluctuating, likely as damaged as the scar-lined alleyways behind the head nursepony.
“...so the patient we received still has a lot of mystery surrounding… it,” the head nursepony continues. “It is currently in distress and have rebuffed all attempts by our male doctors for sedation or de-escalation—and the reasons for its blocking of the vents in this ward are unknown. However, its outbursts are sporadic; perhaps it is wounded, or in a delusional state.”
I bite my lip. It? That knocks out a lot of species in terms of what could possibly be behind that battered door; what could possibly be behind these doors? But also, my mind narrowed on another topic: what if that patient was in pain and lashing out? Could we do something to heal them?
“We are now asking for a brave volunteer, to keep them from expanding their reach any further while we regain control over the electricity and call in more of our unicorn doctors.“ The head nursepony scanned the crowd anticipatingly. “Naturally, hazard pay will be given for this, and if requested, we will keep a phone-line with you for rapid response. Who of you wishes to volunteer?”
Before I can think—before my sane mind can point out I’m already over my skids and what the nursepony's requesting amounts to me swan-diving into a volcano with a smile and a wave—my hoof goes up.
“It seems we have one,” the head nursepony says, and two dozen eyes lock onto me. “A bit underdressed for this duty, but the emergency call was rather abrupt; we can fit you for scrubs. Your name, ma’am?”
“Miss… Nurse Red.” I respond, and it feels like my tongue is cotton as the half-lie slips past it.
Before I know it, the head nursepony stepped toward me. The crowd parts like a curtain, eyes brimming with fear and astonishment as she reaches my side. “Alright then, Nurse Red. My name is Nurse Rainheart, and we’ll make sure you’re ready for what’s on the other end of the door. Remember; you can call it quits at any time and I will take over.”
I gulp, but my pose doesn’t waver. The fear feels like it’ll turn my heart to slurry with its weight, but it never shows beyond my clammy coat. “Okay, Nurse Rainheart.”
Rainheart nods. “Good. You two—” and she points a hoof at another two nurseponies, who jump at being singled out. “—find a pair of scrubs, medium size. Some disinfectant and trays too.”
“Trays?” I can’t stomp myself from asking, even though I inwardly curse. Stupid, stupid! What if they get suspicious of how little I seem to know?
“I normally wouldn’t be this brief, but you’ll see why when you get in, dear,” Rainheart says reassuringly. “Just wait until those two return.’
“Thank you,” I breathe out. My paranoia doesn’t fade with the hoofsteps of the gear-fetching nurseponies, though; if anything it redoubles, almost making my legs quake. I know I’ll give myself away if this persists.
But I’m saved by the bell—literally so, as the warning klaxons go off above my head. I twitch at the sight, and several ponies around me jump a foot. “Focus, all of you. That is just the alarm; the blockage has likely spread to C-Ward’s vents. Pinkheart, Windheart, Spring, go to the ward and assist the evacuations!”
The second those three are out, a bundle of white-red clothing is passed to me from the other nurseponies. I shuffle it one, the material settling around me like a shroud as I wet my dry lips.
“Perfect, it fits!” And then I feel something else settle on my head. A nurse’s cap, its red cross staring back at me from the reflective glass of the door. One that Rainheart is now pushing me toward. “Again, your clicker will let me know if you need to be relieved. Just remember chapter 6 in your handbook - it’s an old one yes, but the ‘techniques of the trade’ portion hasn’t changed.”
Okay, now I’m really panicking on the inside. This is new to me; I didn’t hear of a handbook! Was this part of the orientation? The daily meetings? ”Um, Rainheart? Would you happen to have a-”
“I’m sorry, but I need to give updated duty schedules to the others,” Rainheart said, motioning to the two security guards at the doors to open them for me. “We can discuss the rest later; again, you only have to keep the patient occupied for a short time.”
I try again, damn the consequences. “Seriously, I-”
But it fails again. “Do not worry, Nurse Red.” Rainheart’s eyes glisten with gratitude. “You’re part of Equestria's most prized paramedics; I have no doubt you will succeed in pacifying our patient.” Then she turns away from me, just after hanging a deep metal tray around my neck by the cord wound around its edges.
Apparently… I’m ready to handle this mysterious medical emergency.
I am still for only a second, almost frozen with the terror of what I’ve just dove into. The gurgling stretches in the room beyond make my coat bristle, Rainheart is clearly too overworked to keep briefing me, and the guards are exchanging wary looks right now.
With deciduously less strength in my limbs than I had before, however, I move forward. My mind is rattled, yes, but the passion to heal still burns in my heart. I still want to help others. I still want to help myself. Despite how useless the panic button bouncing on my scrubs’ collar is, I do not want to disappoint everypony by backing away.
So I move toward the door, and as it swings shut behind me, the wind reminds me of the time I strolled through the Canterlot Museum’s military history wing. So many ancient weapons of war, so many wicked blades were there to mess with my impressionable mind. One such one was this blade, contained in a boxy frame of wood, that swished as it came down from its perch and into a hole large enough to fit a pony’s neck with a flash of metal and a thump of finality.
I wonder if I had pulled the rope and offered my own jugular to impending doom in a similar way.
But only for a second.
Then I move further into the darkness and away from the scarlet alarm light.
Well, the patient in this wrecked room is not Nightmare Moon.
Weird that that is the first thing that offers my mind, but considering the ‘patient’ in the center of these torn curtains and blood-red alarm light like a horror movie poster—’weird’ has gotten an upgrade lately.
At first, I’m wondering if the patient in need of calming down is under the gelatinous mass of tentacles right in front of me. Certainly, the way the creature heaves and roils gives the appearance of it smothering intelligent life rather than being it.
But I remember what identifier that Nurse Rainheart gave this patient. And the “Wow…” I breathe out upon seeing it for the first time has a reaction that is far from bestial. The tentacles that were whipping around the room and slamming the other cots and scanners against the wall stopped instantly. They’re arched even now, like goopy little hooks awaiting their quarry.
Hopefully, it’s not me; I know I’m likely out of my depth here, if not my mind.
But I step closer anyway, trying to take advantage of this creature’s lull in its lashing out to study it further. Only half of its amorphous tentacles are hovering, their tips following my movement—another four appendages are pumping into gigantic cracks in the ceiling. Those wounds in the tile are likely of its own making.
There is more mass to the tentacles that meets the eye, especially considering the gouges it left in the marble-lined halls behind me.
And I’m supposed to… calm it?
That I haven’t been turned into a ping-pong ball by the tentacles in front of me is already promising, though. And as I step closer to this creature’s center mass, seeing its green shading fade to more aquamarine blues and greys, and wonder just how it is that the hospital came across this creature. Or how they managed to notice any sort of sentience in its reactions. Even its gurgling cry—once the stuff of impending nightmares—has faded to a soft purr.
“Um… Hello.” I offer meekly, suddenly feeling like a piglet approaching the teeth of a slumbering dragon. “I’m Nurse Redheart—a-are you doing okay?”
The mass gurgles a bit louder. Some of its tentacles reach toward me—tentatively, is that the word?—before retreating again. The motions look practiced, and it is then that I look down.
Despite the chaos of the room and the drooping tubules of cracked lightning, I see the cue cards almost immediately. One says ‘Yes’, another ‘No’. It didn’t take me long to find out what they are likely for.
Picking the cards up in my mouth, I balance one of them on each forehoof. I’m not sure how they don’t list off; maybe it is my sweat gluing them to their spots. “Are these for you? Can you see them?”
A rumble emanates from the center of this creature. Some more jade color flows back into its tentacles. And eventually, it jabs one tentacle at the ‘Yes’ card, the force behind it nearly making my limb buckle under the pressure.
Wincing, I continue. “Can you be a little… gentler… please?”
Another tentacle jab, this time at the ‘no’. Figures; even I can feel the apprehension this time, though it thankfully only hits the edge of the card.
“Alright then. So, um….” My brain’s gears whirr. Clearly, I need to phrase all my inquiries to this creature in yes-or-no questions. I might not get pertinent information this way, but it’s a miracle I’ve got any at all so far. “Do you have a name?”
A jab at the ‘Yes’.
“Is the name listed down in any part of this room?”
Another ‘Yes’ point.
“Could you…” I swallow a wad of intrusive saliva. “Can you point to one source?”
One of its tentacles slithers behind him soon swatting a clipboard at my hooves. I look past the letting, heavily marred by the slime blurring the ink. The name atop the identification section is intact, thankfully.
“...Smooze?” My mind scrambles for any reference to this - medical journals don’t talk of such creatures often. But the bestiaries I remembered poring over in my foalhood offer some scant details. They spoke of creatures like this, green masses without form that once dominated the Hayseed Swamps. Of how they had an affinity for dragons, with one allegedly befriending a draconequus.
My hooves clattered noisily on the tile as I leaped back in horror. Was this it for me? Was this the gelatinous giant that had served Discord himself?
But as my heart thunders in my chest, demanding that I put some distance between me and this amorphous amalgamation—and as much of it as possible—another part of me bids me closer. This creature seems like it was… hurt. Its tentacles seep and twitch at every touch like it expects it to be reacted to with stings. And considering the thick, cloying smell of sorcery in this room, it probably already received some stinging spells.
I don’t begrudge the doctors that likely had to do it; at least, not at the moment. This creature is clearly dangerous, they may have needed to exert such force to even get out of the room.
Still, there is a question that burns at the tip of my tongue now. “Are you hurt?”
I swear that the grunt it emits is confused, wondering why I would even ask such a thing. But indeed, it points a slimy coil at the ‘Yes’ cue card.
“I see… Smooze.” Even the name feels odd on my tongue. “And did the pain occur before you startled attacking the others?”
Now the keening cry it gives out is somewhat indignant, like a tiger caught by the tail. Still, it jabs at the ‘Yes’ card.
“And is there a way to alleviate your pain?”
This time, it doesn’t answer in the affirmative or negative. Its tentacles lashing into the ceiling thicken further, though, and it shudders in a tone that is far lower and more harmonious than its other utterings.
I then remember the reports concerning the blocking of the vents. Was this Smooze festooned inside those cold vents right now? It had to be, those appendages being where they were not anchoring it or keeping it aloft.
Which means… “You recover in the cold, don’t you?” It’s a contrast to the Hayseed Swamps, but my studies on history do remember that Discord froze over the Hayseed Swamps in what most saw as a cruel prank. Perhaps there was more method to that dragonequus’s madness?
Quickly, I make a decision. I trot over to the totaled cabinets, looking through their scattered contents until I find what I’m looking for.
“Do you think maybe applying this to you might help hasten the process?” I ask, waving the heavy jar of cooling cream to the Smooze. “Like, enough that you might… stop clogging up the ventilation systems?”
Two of the Smooze’s tentacles zigzag and jut up. It almost looks like it’s… shrugging. But it’s not reacting in anger or anything, so I take this as a prompt to continue.
Opening the jar—and thanking Celestia that it’s plastic instead of glass—I scoop a hoof into its jelly-like contents. It tingles and flares along my hoof, a mixture that I’ve applied to… other parts of my body during my lonelier moments.
I shake my head though, to kick those nasty thoughts. Now is not the time! I have to soothe this savage beast before it tears an entire hospital down in its pain!
The first application of that cream to the Smooze has immediate effects. The tips of its tentacles are where the changes begin, reverting to that pale blue-slate complexion I saw before as a gurgling coo accompanies my actions. I look back toward its center mass, and it is deflated significantly, almost bubbling with glee. A wet, slimy schlap tells me more; one of the Smooze’s tentacles has fallen from its lodging inside a vent, the glistening metal like diamonds to my eyes.
That settles it. I have to continue this, make this Smooze so docile it retracts all of its lengths.
Then, I notice one tentacle, in particular, has a strange bulbous ring near its base. It’s an appendage that almost looks like I can see the vessels pulse underneath, its pallor far darker than the other limbs of this being. I wonder if this one controls the others.
Could I shorten my time with this if I stroke it down with that cooling cream? And why does its texture look so… familiar?
Only one way to find out.
Waiting until the Smooze is almost half its size, I make my move. Slowly scooching around the bed of tentacles around my hooves, I approach that foreboding limb. I reach back to the jar, letting the tingle of the cooling rub wash away my anxieties. And then, I run my forehooves up its surprisingly rigid surface.
Suddenly, it is my limbs being lassoed by the Smooze, hauling me into the air. I’m lost for breath way too fast to even scream, and it’s not like I’d be able to for long anyhow, because another tentacle wraps around my mouth. I struggle in the Smooze’s grasp, but it is somehow too mushy to gain any ground in, and too strong for me to just fall through.
And just as I think I’ve screwed up for the final time, that the blackness crepe on the edges of my oxygen-starved vision will be the last sight I see—
It pulls the tentacle from my mouth and offers up the tentacle I treated again. It’s… far stiffer than last I saw it, its pilot limb flush with a bluish color.
“Do you…?” I ask, my voice trembling terribly. “Do you want me to continue?”
The mass shuffles back and forth. Probably a yes, since the cue cards are no longer an option for it to properly grasp.
I pull up my forehooves, still tied together with a tentacle. Its feeling is so odd; like honey but without the uncomfortable cling to my fur. “Well… can you let me go first?”
After a while, the Smooze complies--or compromises, rather. My hindhooves hit the ground again, and the tentacles around them relinquish their grip. The ones around my front limbs stay locked though, and the Smooze only offers that pilot tentacle to me. No sound emits from it; whatever it was before, it’s tense and silent now.
That makes two of us, I suppose.
I slowly pull my bound forehooves to that tentacle again, and that’s when I feel it too—the thrum of power, hot and sharp as it races under my hooves. I thought that my ministrations had calmed the Smooze down; if anything, it’s very fired up now. As both of my hooves meander over the shiny surface of its pilot tentacle, it’s then that I realize just what it reminds me of.
The vein-like rush of fluids underneath, the hard touch, even the slitted tip…
“Wait!” I shout. “Is this your cock?”
The question feels ridiculous the second it leaves my lips; it’s a blob with tentacles, how could it have a dick? Or know about one, even?
Yet with the way it gets harder under my touch, and the speed at which its other limbs trickle out of the ceiling to wind around my thighs; the answer is clear. It brings me closer to its central mass, and the spicy scent of the cooling cream can’t hold a candle to the inferno rising in my cheeks.
I’ve been pleasuring this Smooze by accident for several minutes now.
Now it looks like it wants to return the favor.
With ease I don’t think most alicorns could muster, the Smooze snakes another tentacle under the collar of my scrubs. In seconds, the Smooze snaps it open, the sound of the button unclasping almost apologetic as it slips off my body. Then that appendage rises to my chin, coating it with the cooling cream—and its slime—which made me tremble in a way that wasn’t entirely fearful.
Again, the sight of the room around me is proof positive that I’ll know when it’s really angry.
And then that tentacle prods at my lips.
It’s almost academic at this point; I jam my lips shut, unsure if I should go further. Certainly, this shatters so many patient-prescriber relationships all to Tartarus. I was struggling in the deep end before; obliging the increasingly amorous nature of this being would be catastrophically bad.
But as the Smooze insistently prods at my lips, and my mind clouds over, all I can think of is how… eerily close to my dirtiest dreams this has become. Back when I was studying to be a nurse, hoofing my dripping snatch in those covers, and hoping that it’d be Dr. Horse’s cock penetrating me next.
Yet… it was never just that handsome stud was it? Not, it was everypony in that calendar spread, in so many different positions; the only similarity being where it was.
In a hospital like this.
In a moment like this.
When the lights were low and the world was upside down, I offered everything I had to help.
And this one was just as wired into the parts of this hospital as it planned to be with me. Was it so bad? To keep it from befouling this place of healing, and getting pleasure from it too?
Besides, I was tapped to keep this being distracted until the cavalry could come in. I had to do this, for the sake of all that had been left behind.
So with a nod to the Smooze—and shuttling the last screaming dregs of my sanity to the recesses of my mind—I go to work differently from what I imagined.
I open my lips, and the first taste that comes across as the Smooze lays its tentacle on my tongue is… sweetness. Dusty, yet melting on my tongue. Like powdered drink mix. It’s not unpleasant, and as my tongue laps it down my throat, revitalization flows through my stress-wracked nerves.
The Smooze gurgles—approvingly, I hope—and shoots another spray of sweetness into my mouth. I happily swallow it down, closing my lips around the bulb of its pilot tentacle, and suck lightly on it. It’s a message as old as time, and the slime being gets it loud and clear, as a third helping of nectar setting my taste-buds alight.
Oh, no bestiary ever talked about this side of the Smooze!
It’s quite the multitasker too. It’s pumping in and out of my mouth just like a horsecock, and I can’t say it didn’t get my nethers hot. And there’s another set of tentacles to offer that same cooling presence to my pussy, another appendage giving teasing flicks to my bud. I pant into the Smooze’s pilot tentacle in response, my mane bobbing around the edges of my eyes as tears of joy leak from them.
I steal a look back to the door, my last shining moment of shame, to see if anypony else had burst onto the scene. Nothing but darkness greets me.
It’s also then that I realize that my hindlegs are spread shockingly wide. Had the Smooze slid past my resistance so swiftly? Reduced me to a slatternly test subject so easily?
If so, this test is one I can never imagine hoping for the end of. My core is dripping for such light touches, my fur tingles needily from all the slimy limbs winding around it, and that taste being deposited on my tongue is neverending manna. My legs buckle under the power of such pleasure, but there are enough tentacles around my barrel now to keep me upright.
Not that I care much for the shocking thickness of those tentacles, anyhow. Not with that pilot tentacle flossing my mouth so religiously.
Eat your heart out, Colgate.
The wriggling mass underneath me—sweet fuck, I’m on top of the Smooze now—mewls and coos as it pumps my mouth. I want it to go deeper though, despite how my tongue clamors for more nectar. I need it to bulge in my gullet, rob me of my oxygen, and manipulate my senses like it already has in my mind. I want to lose myself in this being.
“Please…” I barely gargle out around that pilot tentacle. “Go…deeper…”
Such a futile, pathetic call. So little chance of it breaking through. And yet, I get my wish regardless, as the Smooze’s coils bun under my chin to provide more of itself for me. Then it thrusts in, oh so very deep, and stars dance in my vision.
“Mmmm….” I hiss around the gooey intrusion. It’s just what I wanted when I needed it most.
Wait—that’s happening right now, with the extensions snaking around my swollen pussy-lips. Pink skin bends and winks around the feel of the Smooze’s gelatinous grip, and the raw thrill it sends through my body makes my back arch. My eyes are close to rolling back into my head, and I don’t want them to, because it means I’ll see less of the gooey patient giving me so much bliss.
With the girthy coils of the Smooze grinding at my slit, and the pilot tentacle at my mouth pistoning like crazy, it’s only a matter of time before I burst. My cheeks are bulging; so much virile, formless life is wriggling within them, and it feels so amazing, like I’m wrestling with a literal eldritch being. I drool around it, the rest of my body already slick with slime and sweat, and the powdery nectar still faint on my tongue makes me swirl it around the tentacle.
There’s a final slam of the Smooze’s tentacle into my mouth, and right after, my vision whitens as my entire body hums with maddening ecstasy. My loins clench around nothing, then spew everything onto the bluish appendages stroking their entrance. Over and over, maresap flows to coat the tentacle flopping frantically against my clit, and it only seems to extend my orgasm to infinity and beyond. My teeth hold hard against the tentacle between them, determined to stop me from screaming loud enough to alert all of Canterlot.
At a speed my bliss-baked brain can only log as ‘way too fast’, the pleasure ebbs away. Aftershock bleeds away before my sparking eyes, and I’m left panting over the Smooze. For a while, I fear that this is the end, that the slimy being humming under my body is going to dispose of me like a used tissue.
But it’s not done with me.
And I don’t know why it’s desire instead of doom that floods my body when I realize that fact.
The Smooze wastes no time now. Tentacles nestled at my still-dribbling holes now ring them with penetrating intent. I let out an exhausted whinny at the feel, my head slumping down in the crook of my forelimbs. Soon there’s another Smooze tentacle nestling between my hindlegs, a rich blue point that pokes at my puckered backdoor.
I almost come apart right there from the feeling, my head shooting up. It’s the one part of me that’s not coated in slime or cum, and I can’t get enough of that prodding.
“Yes~!” The word shoots from my lips like a firecracker, and my hips cant into the Smooze’s appendages in search of more slippery friction. “O-oh, Smooze! Please, keep going!”
But the gooey being seems Tartarus-bent on teasing me right now, despite the emergency lights flickering behind us. The tentacle flicking at my ponut is eager but treads no further. The tentacle once plundering my through wraps around the back of my neck like a pillow, staving away the aches. And I’m yowling lowly like a cat in heat, waiting for ecstasy to plow into me.
Then the tentacle prodding at my ass splits open, feeling more like a clamshell as it seals against my dock. I suck in my lip, soaking in the feel of nectar and lust welling within me. This Smooze is full of surprises, and with some luck, so will I.
A smaller, hardened nub of a tentacle then pushes against my plot, my backdoor well-prepped for it. That bulb slips inside me within seconds, and I push back shamelessly against it. Fuck! Only the tip is in and I feel so full back then. I just need my pussy to feel the same!
“Guess I… don’t need to ask… if you like what you feel…” I pant.
More trilling noises come from the Smooze, and soon, it’s shoving another tentacle deep inside my slit. The sponge-like squishing of my inner muscles as they clamp around the Smooze’s hardness sends me tumbling into the throes of passion. It’s not even the pilot tentacle, but its throbbing girth more than makes up for it.
My eyes are rolling back in my head now, natch.
And speaking of that main appendage, it’s working its way into my good graces as well. It clenches harder around my neck, slowly depriving me of oxygen the hard way, and I grin deliriously at the heady feel. I can only let out soft ‘yes’s and ‘oh’s, my vocabulary too dwindled to go further.
Good thing the Smooze is plenty interested in probing me. With a flick of its tentacles, it slams the appendage lodged in my plot further, the squirting of its slime making my ears perk up. My tail flags up, that veil of pink hair tickling over the tentacle and making it twitch. Now it’s perfect.
“Smooze…” I say, my hindlegs spreading even further. I’m positive I’ll be groin-to-ground soon. “Do that with the other o-one, too oh sweet fuck~”
Goodness, could you imagine if this was part of orientation? Me standing in front of an entire class sprawl-eagled, being pounded by a gooey giant while Dr. Horse instructed the calls to take notes of how dilated my insides were. Heck, the talks to volunteer me for this would be more honey-coated. “Before you work here, there’s one more test you must pass.”
And I’d nod along to it all too.
I moan at that fantasy, the dulcet tones of Dr. Horse as he went ‘Get familiar with it—it likes to catch our nurses by surprise.’ And then the Smooze would shove what felt like another half-foot of its limbs inside my snatch, while the prospects giggle like foals and I wail myself hoarse.
Wait, no, that wailing’s coming from real-life me.
“Fwah! Ah! Ahh!” I cry as I cum again, the room now thick with my aroma and the sounds of slick, gelatinous plaps as the Smooze screws me raw. The extension in my pussy joins in on the plunging, in perfect sync as they wrest in and out of my fuckholes. And the juices gushing out of my folds only spur the Smooze on further, twirling its amorphous limbs against my G-spot with surgical precision.
The jelly-like pilot tentacle in front of me doesn’t let up either. Squeezing on the sides of my neck, it robs me of oxygen slowly but carefully. It’s keeping me on the edge mentally so its other appendages can push me over it, and that’s exactly what this doctor (well, nurse) ordered. With the way its slimy coils are massaging me, I know I’ll be climbing my peak faster than before.
For a while, I wonder: just how smart is this Smooze? It’s nothing like the savage, sporadic threat Rainheart said it was, that’s for sure. Vicious, calculating, wringing every ounce of pleasure out of every passing moment…
But that scrap of sanity’s fading fast, as it is with every word in my brain that isn’t ‘Smooze’, ‘deeper’, or ‘faster’. I lower my rump to the surface of the Smooze’s center mass, letting the feel of the slimy coil against my barrel tingle my nerves. It’s like a waterbed and a brush at the same time, and right against my bead; I know this was the right choice to make.
With a hearty cry that barely gets out of my throat, I cum again. The Smooze follows suit with a wave of its nectar from that pilot tentacle around my gullet, and at first, I think it’s wasted as it splashes against my mane and back. But then, that searing bliss fires up along my spine, and my climax redoubles in strength. God, it feels so scorching hot and yet so cool at the same time.
Of course, that might have a little to do with the Smooze focused on me and not the AC vents.
But right now, my world has winnowed down to my gelatinous patient and the bliss it’s still ramming into my drenched depths. One twist of its coils later, my back is suddenly flush against the Smooze’s surface. I can look down and see the bulge the Smooze’s extensions, snug inside my womb. The powdery release it’s spread over my back feels like ice cubes, except ice cubes don’t make me wail whorishly.
Usually, anyways.
No, seriously; I was very lonely in my old college days.
I’m wholly ensnared by the vine-like appendages the Smooze has against me now. This close to it, I can hear it burble happily as it withdraws, and then thrusts into my gaping holes. The pilot tentacle it wields has unwound from my throat to plunge inside my mouth again, filling me at both ends. It’s everywhere—endlessly wrapping around my barrel, jostling at the meat of my furry flanks, spreading my hindlegs again as I thrash back against its penetrating limbs.
And me? Well, my vision is as full of white as my coat, bliss baking whatever nerves weren’t driven into overstimulation by the Smooze’s mind-shattering motions. I don’t know what to buck against: the ticklish feeling swelling in my plot, the body-wracking arousal pouring from my slit, the pilot tentacle dicking my throat? Everything is so hard and virile one second, yet soft and sweet the next, and my fuckholes milk the Smooze’s extensions for all they’re worth at the sinful duality of it all.
What’s more, I barely care—I’m being plugged so deeply with slimy limbs that I don’t know where the Smooze ends and my juices begin down there. All I can do is arch into this wonderful patient’s touch, stroke at my nub with the one forehoof of mine the Smooze has stopped gripping, and bask in the steamy pleasure I’m being soaked with.
I come, over and over again, and this time it feels like it’s a daisy chain of desire. Detonating one after another, my packed pussy blasts out splashes of marecum, making the tentacles’ trips inside me all the smoother. I stroke even harder at the bead atop my pussy, groaning filthy words of praise into the tentacle bulging inside my cheeks.
So deep, so relentless! Such life from a patient in a place for the sick! I think it’ll make a full recovery soon.
My clit opens further into the tentacles impaled within it, taking in more even though my mind is fraying at the impossibility of the act with so much of the Smooze tunneled inside me now. But that calculating part of my mind is breathing its last, smothered under a mountain of bliss. I’m steering myself to the mother of all orgasms now, a breaking of the spring of ecstasy already crimping inside my body. I don’t care what becomes of me after, so long as I cum my brains out now!
I hum my approval along the tentacle inside my mouth, and it finally deposits a stream of nectar into my mouth and throat. The difference this time is, it doesn’t stop—the powdery mix just keeps coming, coating every inch of my mouth in its bittersweet glory. I haul myself onto it in repose, deepthroating it even harder as my hips swivel and my thighs twitch.
I feel so full and yet so safe, to have life so desperate to enjoin itself with me.
Its' togetherness in its rawest, most carnal form.
“Smo-Smo-unnph, ahhhh~!”
Orgasm passes its hand over my sweaty body for the final time. My speech is garbled and messy, but the volume makes sure my gratitude for the Smooze’s secession comes through perfectly. My slit blasts off, waves of glistening juices joining the goo on the floor. The turquoise tentacles around me wind tighter, locking me in my arched position as my nerves overload.
Oblivion threatens to rain on my parade, its black claws edged around my vision. But despite the trickling sting along my barrel, I force myself to stay conscious. It even smells of vanilla and overripe fruit but I hold my breath, trying to preserve this moment as long as I can.
Then my logical mind kicks in, and a detail about this ‘rain’ strikes me hard.
Vanilla and overripe fruit?
That’s not some symbolic shower- that’s an actual shower. The decontamination nozzles are activating!
And that means when those nozzles stop spraying, the actual doctors will be flooding this room.
Horror, fresh and forceful, barrels into my skull. “S-smooze!” I gasp, a likely hard task for me even if the gelatinous being under me wasn’t still buried to the hilt inside my pussy and ass. “L-let me go, the others are coming!”
The Smooze gurgles loudly but does not pull out. Beyond the door, I hear several nurseponies gasp.
“Please!” I beg, my hooves weakly scrabbling on its formless frame. “F-for us both! If they see me—if they see us~!”
A lump of the Smooze raised up, almost like a cocked eyebrow. But finally, it accepts my request, the tentacles lowering me to the ground next to the cot before retracting.
I struggle up to all fours on legs that feel like overcooked spaghetti. My eyes ricochet back to the Smooze, retreating into a ball on the cot. Options flit their way in my brain, lethargic as their pacing is.
My clothes are still strewn over the quickly dampening floor, along with the clipboard. All I have to my name is my nurse’s hat. At least the decontaminant spray is washing off the heady smell of sex, and the grates in the floor are doing away with my juices too.
But that still leaves so much in need of immediate answers. And shockingly, why the Smooze was so eager to fuck me is not at the top of the list.
Not if I wanted to spend another day within Ponyville General’s walls as an employee.
So I did the only thing I could, considering the vent issue the Smooze had started was over. I peppered the Smooze with apologies as I gather the tray I brought into the room. I ladled this being—as much of it as I could get—into the large basin, hoping I still had time. Thankfully, the spray stopped just as I finished that.
Then I turned to the altered still lying atop my scrubs and hit the button. Within seconds.
“That’s her calling for help, I know it! Now Dr. Horse, are you sure she was part of your class?”
My heart nearly drops into my hooves. Oh shit, Dr. Horse is here. Oh shit, he definitely knows I skipped the evac to do this!
I look for any open vent I can stuff the Smooze in. Maybe, just maybe, I can get them focused on the escaped patient. But my muscles cream their protest at leaping up to make that escape possible.
“Don’t worry, Nurse. I have no idea why she headed here, but all I hope is that she’s okay-hm?!”
I freeze, my teeth chattering as I turn on the spot. Doctor Horse and Rainheart are there now, flanked by an army of horn-ignited unicorn doctors. Their face’ are slack, their jaws open.
Suddenly, I know the jig is probably up. This has to be about the romp I’ve had with this patient! I have to explain myself! Now, while I still have a scrap of dignity left!
“Look, you two…” I babble, painfully aware of how squeaky my voice is yet too scared to let them get a word in. “I know I was out of line even being here, but I’d gotten so little sleep and thought on so many procedures I was sure I could shoot an idea to Rainheart before I left—!”
They don’t respond, and I don’t know if I’m digging myself out or further into a pit. Regardless, I grit my teeth and continue one, my lightheadedness threatening to make me faint.
“—and I just heard this thing-this Smooze, sorry-crying, and it felt so much like a call for help, so I offered to go in, and I know I shouldn’t have without the reading, or even passing orientation, but I swear I need this job, I swear if I have to clean toilets and bedpans for the rest of my time here I’ll accept it, just please don’t throw me to the wolves or Celestia or… or…”
My lungs permit no further excuses, I drop down and cover behind the bubbling tray in front of me. The Smooze offers some curious squeals but does nothing else. The silence hands over me even harder low, like it’s not just a guillotine blade but all of Equestria looming over my poor head.
And then, I hear Dr. Horse’s voice, directed right at me. My god, I didn’t think I’d fear hearing it so!
“So….” he begins. “The Smooze you hold in front of you-you are responsible for it removing itself from our vents? And returning it to its dormant state?”
… not the words I expected to hear, but my ears perk hopefully anyways. “Y-yes…” I stammer.
“And you did this in direct defiance of not only Snowheart’s call for evacuation but mine for you to stop?”
I don’t know if I can get any whiter in the face, but it feels like I have. He… called to me, and I didn’t even stop? My career is over before it even began.”
“...yes,” I say, fat tears falling from my eyes with each blink. My forehead is almost touching the damp ground now, but its coolness does nothing to reach my raging hot heart.
“And you pretended to experience you did not in order to even confront it?” That was Nurse Rainheart speaking, I know it. The motherly tone in her voice is long gone now, but it is still frighteningly level. “You lied to me? To ponies actually trained for calls like these?”
I can’t even speak now, my throat feels like it’s full of cotton. So I nod frantically instead.
“Well, clearly a mistake has been made here, Miss Redheart….” Dr. Horse’s stern words strike at my soul like swords.
I gulp, and await my doom.
“... you clearly don’t need another second in the orientation to be gainfully employed here!” And I feel Dr. Horse’s hoof thump proudly upon my withers. “Stand up tall, Redheart. As of now, consider yourself a full-time nurse practitioner at Ponyville General!”
I blink several times, my brain taking eons to catch what words just hit my ears. “...pardon?” I ask.
“I’m not exactly thrilled that you concealed all you did to accomplish this, Redheart…” Rainheart added, her tone still critically crisp. ”But nevertheless, this is an accomplishment. That being you hold before you is one of the most notoriously unstable patients we’ve had, and I was certain we’d suffer structural damage keeping him here another day. But you have managed to do what even we could not.” Then a small grin breaks out on Nurse Rainheart’s face. “So, for now, you shall be a part of our roster of healers.”
My head doesn’t even feel like mine with how robotically I nod. “T-thank you.”
“Of course, we cannot have other nurseponies running into such scenarios uncaring of the consequences.” Dr. Horse goes on. “So, Chief Nurse Rainheart here will be your supervisor for a 90-day trial period, and you will work in this very ward.”
”I expect you to be here on Monday, fully dressed and compliant!” Nurse Rainheart states. “And if either of us hear of you putting another hoof out of line, I guarantee you that you will not be tapped to oversee this Smooze’s recovery again. Are we crystal clear, Nurse Redheart?”
Again, I nod, my heart jackhammering in my chest at the weight of Rainheart’s threat. Then a certain word sticks in the craw of my mind.
“Wait… again?”
Again, Rainheart shoots me a knowing smirk. “Why you’ve put in all the work making this patient amenable. I will leave it to your quick-thinking mind to continue such alleviating efforts.” One of her eyebrows quirks up. “Unless you wish to share with the others your meth-”
“NO!” I scream, so loudly that Dr. Horse leaps two feet in the air. Realizing my suspiciously loud voice, I scramble for another excuse. “S-sorry, Nurse Rainheart, ma’am. It’s… just an old secret I’d been cultivating during my school years. Doctor-patient confidentiality, and all that.”
I shoot a busy smile, hoping my smile is as hypnotizing as Colgate’s was.
After a while that feels like a week, Nurse Rainheart nods. “Just as well. The cameras and equipment here are totaled. And given the room’s state, I’d rather not think what dreadful danger you were in while doing what you did anyway.” With a swift whirl of her hooves, she made for the door. “Follow me Redheart, we must get you cleaned up. You’ve been through a lot today.”
I leave the tray full of Smooze in the hooves of one of the unicorn doctors, giving it a watery grin. It gurgles one last time, reaching out a tentacle to trail along my cheek. I let it, cooing at the sound of our and give it some final words in hopes it will take them to heart.
“Just be nice until I come back, all right? I know you have some… unattended needs, but there’s no need to take it out on anypony else.”
With the understatement of the damned decade behind me, I trot out, only a step behind Nurse Rainheart and Dr. Horse. The halls are fully lit now, the pale light washing over my form as we take turn after turn. But suddenly, this place doesn’t feel as labyrinthian and foreboding as it did before. Now it just feels… like my home away from home.
“Maybe we should only have non-unicorn nurseponies watch over the Smooze, Rainheart,” Dr. Horse suggested. “It only attacked stallions; maybe it doesn’t take well to the wrong sex.”
I bite back a retort about the Smooze being far from non-receptive to sex, “wrong” or otherwise.
“Perhaps,” Rainheart said. “And I think I know who’d be best suited to head such a group.” And her eyes flicker back to me, as I puff out my chest and trot a bit faster.
Goodness, this day really was the time when I did something absolutely unprecedented, wasn’t it? And this was just my first patient!
Could anypony imagine what would happen if its previous master came calling again?
But I shake my head, the thought gone as fast as it arrived. That’d just be ridiculous, shocking events like this weren’t fated to come so fast. This was just an anomaly - much like Nightmare Moon, and that was so many weeks ago.
Besides, the statue was a city away, under Celestia’s eternal eye. No way in Tartarus is Discord coming back in my lifetime.
In Canterlot, unbeknownst to any of the half-dozen guards strolling in the lush gardens, a statue of a thin yet sinister dragon rumbled for but a second. It was only a small tremor, not even disturbing even the whippoorwills nesting on its snout.
The visible crack that appeared on its temple, however, definitely did.
And within that minute flaw, a devious chuckle carried away on the wind, fading into the light of the still-setting sun over Equestria.
