Get a checkup (side story)

It was always nice when Alyssa and Grace were in the apartment, David thought as he watched Alyssa lick the last drops of his cum off Grace's beautiful little tits.

When they had all recovered their senses, Grace looked at David and asked, "you haven't been back to see Dr Sanders, have you?"

David thought back to his first hours after waking up from being comatose. In retrospect, the doctor's behavior didn't seem as unusual as it did at the time. She just sucked him off. That wasn't unprofessional at all. He inwardly chuckled at his naivety, but answered, "no."

"Maybe you should schedule a followup, just to make sure there's no long term problems. Do it when I'm on-shift and I'll make sure I'm scheduled to assist. That way I can make sure everything goes okay."

A few weeks later, he found himself back at the hospital, with Grace guiding him through the process of getting a checkup.

The doctor ordered a series of tests. After Grace accompanied him to every corner of the hospital to have one scan after another, they returned to the doctor's office and waited for the results.

Dr Sanders reviewed the tests, "your cardiac function seems normal. That's the big worry after the virus," she scrolled through a few more pages of tests, "no neural degradation from the coma. That's good."

She looked up at him, "how's your sexual function?"

He was unsure how to answer, but Grace interjected, "fucking awesome."

The doctor looked at her and said dryly, "right," and back to David, "Fortiphine can affect sexual sensitivity. Men who are under-sensitive can... well, let's just say you don't want to know what 'stage 3 chafing' is. Men who are too sensitive can experience what's known as 'radical drainage'."

David looked at her, completely unsure how to respond. He was pretty sure he didn't want either of those.

She seemed unphased and tapped through his records on her laptop, "I see your harem is keeping stats. That's helpful," she tapped a few more keys and looked up at him, "and impressive, but just in case, I'd like to test your sensitivity."

His eyes lit up. Grace interrupted his thought and said with sadness in her voice, "we don't do it that way anymore. There's a standard test now."

David was either excited or frightened. He hadn't decided yet.

The doctor took the conversation back, "I need some history before the test. How long has it been since your last orgasm?"

David paused and answered, "about ten minutes."

The doctor looked at Grace with a raised eyebrow. She explained, "the girls told me you were running late. We had time to kill."

Her expression didn't change, "you're on the clock."

Grace grabbed David's arm and held it up, pointing at his plastic wristband, "he's been admitted," she said firmly. "I was assisting a patient."

The doctor rolled her eyes and looked back at David, "the test will check both your sensitivity to orgasm and measure semen volume."

David was tilting toward being excited, but asked, "uh... how will it do that?"

Grace offered, "you know that thing they put on cows that sucks the milk out?"

David looked at her in horror. Fear! What he was feeling was definitely fear.

As he started to stand to flee, Grace put her hand gently on his leg and coaxed him back onto the chair.

The doctor corrected her, "nurse, it's not a milking machine. It's a Stimulometer. It's a carefully calibrated medial instrument."

"Right. Sorry doctor."

She continued, "it will provide a reproducible level of stimulation, allowing us to compare your results against a baseline."

David tried to summarize, "you're going to hook me up to a machine that jerks me off?"

The doctor took a deep breath and reiterated, "a calibrated medical device that evaluates your sexual sensitivity."

He turned to Grace, who nodded reassuringly. He settled in between excitement and fear, on acceptance. He concluded, "okay, I guess."

The doctor asked Grace, "nurse, can you get the test ready?"

Grace walked over to an intercom on the wall, pressed a button and said in a business-like tone, "Gabby, I need a milking machine prepped for room 12."

The doctor rolled her eyes again.

"Sure thing," said the box, "what size sleeve?"

Grace turned to look thoughtfully at David and then back to the box, "probably a number four."

"Nice," the box opined.

[I can't emphasize enough how the line "you know that thing they put on cows that sucks the milk out" made me giggle when writing it more than anything else that has ever escaped my fingers. Before any disgruntled dairy farmers come at me, I know "sucked" isn't the right verb. But Grace doesn't.]