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[Content warning: parasite, amputee, sexual themes]

14 May 2067

She was hungry for success. Fresh out of her Master’s in Biology, the Intern had just moved quite the distance to her new accommodations, which were provided by the Prison. A Doctor working at the Experimental Corrections Facility or ECF had been looking for some help, and after a selective and somewhat invasive search, had found the perfectly eager Intern willing to work for her success.

How she got exactly where she is now—sitting nude in a Gyno examination chair having her anus fingered by her superior—she doesn’t quite know.

She bites her lip, squirming lightly as the gloved finger enters her.
“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” The Doctor asked, her concern genuine.
“I-I’m fine. I’m used to this...” says the Intern, hiding her expression. Over the past week she’s been through a process of stretching her recently virgin anus to accommodate the charge she would soon receive.
The Doctor inhales pensively, slipping another well lubed finger into her Intern. “You know that’s not what I mean. Are you ready to go through with the experiment?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure? One hundred precent sure?” The Doctor asks. The contracts and waivers and consent forms seem far away, inconsequential, detached—but the Intern nods again after a long moment.
“I’m sure.”
“Then may I proceed?” The Doctor asks, looking up from her position in the wheelchair between the Intern’s pale, spread thighs.
“You may proceed.”
Carefully, the Doctor slips a third finger inside of the woman opposite her. The Intern stifles a moan, anticipating the next step in the sequence, which had already been practiced. The Doctor selects an enema nozzle from the wheeled cart next to her, attaching it to a hose which was connected to a receptacle unit held within the cart. The intern gasps quietly as the relatively large nozzle is fitted into her anus and inflated slightly to secure it.
“Now for the cleaning solution...”
The Intern’s well maintained body tenses slightly as the cold solution enters her, drawing all of her attention to the somewhat familiar sensation within her stomach. Her diet had been strictly monitored and then reduced to liquid over the past three days, but the cleaning is a necessary precaution.
Her bowels begin to cramp and inflate. She rubs her no longer flat stomach carefully, breathing through the painful cramps, sweat making her nude body glisten. She pulls her glossy dark hair out of her face, her green eyes darting about tellingly. It will come soon. She doesn’t know if she’s excited or terrified.
She lets out a quiet groan and, a few moments later, the tank is completely emptied into her now painfully distended gut.
“Feeling alright? No unbearable discomfort?” The Doctor asks from her wheelchair. The Intern, biting her lip, nods.
“Good. Then we may proceed to the next portion of the procedure.” The Doctor shows little emotion on her slightly disfigured face, wearing the learned, sterile mask of the medical profession.
“I-it feels different, Doctor...” The Intern says, shifting her hips lightly, “It feels, um...warm.” Despite the cramping, the Intern feels a tingling sensation in her lower abdomen, followed by a slight but growing sense of feminine desperation.
“The necessary pheromones were introduced to the cleaning solution in order to promote a smoother union of parasite and host.” The Doctor says, pausing for a minute. She’s struggling to find words stauch enough to express what she knows already in less appropriate terms.
“Feelings of...arousal were a predicted side effect of the pheromones.”
The Intern feels her pale face heat with a blush, but doesn’t elaborate. She knows she needs to let the solution rest inside of her for a few more minutes in order to properly do its job.
She finds her gaze wandering over the Doctor. The woman doesn’t look very old—couldn’t have been more than forty, she thinks—though her wheelchair-bound form doesn’t do her many favours. Her red hair is cut short for simplicity. A polyurethane feeding tube snakes from her left nostril behind her. A pair of rimless glasses sit perched on her slender nose, framing her dark, intelligent eyes as they search meticulously over the contents of the cart beside the Gyno-chair. She picks up a test tube which contains something dark, the fluorescent lighting impressing reflections over the surface of the curved glass, concealing its exact form from view. The mechanical fingers of the Doctor’s left hand tap quietly against the seemingly innocuous thing as she gives it one final examination. The Intern knows that this is it: this is the experimental creature which will be nesting in her body over the next six days.
And yet, all she can think of is the Doctor’s body underneath the lab coat, the black turtleneck, and the gray slacks.

*******

07 February 2067

The Intern stuck her hand under the water of the shower. Too cold. She turned the knob, waited patiently, and felt it again. Perfect.
“Doctor, are you ready for your shower?” She called cheerily into the other room, where the Doctor had been pouring over some notes, scribbling fanatically with her remaining hand.
“Just a minute...” she said, not breaking her focus, muttering something to herself under her breath.
The intern waited another few moments as the mirror fogged over, the bathroom filling with steam. She looked at her obscured reflection in the mirror, pulling her long, dark hair back into a ponytail. She took a breath, stepping out of the bathroom and into the relatively colder air.
The Doctor sat scribbling in the pool of yellow light pouring over her work space. The small lamp was the only light on in the room.
“Doctor, your shower is ready!” she called again. The Doctor scribbled a few more notes on the paper before turning to the intern with a rather annoyed expression.
“Very well, then.”
She turned to the small control pad on her wheelchair and sent herself toward the bathroom. The Intern opened the door for her and closed it behind.
They’d obviously done this before. The Doctor unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her somewhat boyish figure. She struggled to remove the shirt from her body, and the Intern, always the keen observer, let her try on her own for a dignified moment before gently helping her off with the blouse.
The Doctor raised her prosthetic arm and, on queue, the Intern supported it with her left hand and disengaged it with her right. The technology was cutting edge, allowing the woman a level of motor articulation which was almost normal. Getting the thing wet, however, wasn’t worth the risk of breaking it. The Intern placed the prosthetic on the counter of the spacious bathroom, returning to her charge.
“Ready to stand?” The Intern asked, and the Doctor nodded. She looked so wonderfully pitiful as she loosened her leg brace with her remaining arm, pulling a small lever on the side. She pulled her only leg off of the footrest and looked up at the Intern. Without a shirt, the extent of her injuries was apparent. Various scarring spanned her abdomen, her small breasts, throat, and the side of her small, angular face. Her left arm was now nothing but a small stump amputated above the elbow. Her right arm reached out for the Intern.
“What were you working on?” asked the intern, knowing it was better to start talking now that the more intimate part would begin.
“Oh, nothing wonderfully exciting...” The doctor said as the intern practically lifted her by weaving her arm under her shoulders. In this position, the intern removed the Doctor’s pants, then her underwear. Little remained of her right leg save for the telling scars and perhaps six inch stump. The thin plastic line of a permanent catheter snaked from between the folds of the Doctor’s sex to a bag which had previously been disconnected.
“Is it something for the, uh...new venture?”
The Doctor gave a rare, closed lipped smile, her dark eyes immediately lighting with a well concealed kindness.
“Not quite. Something different, and not quite as exciting. Purely theoretical...”
The intern waited, with baited breath, for her to continue.
“M-may I sit?” The Doctor asked quietly. The Intern blushed madly, and, apologising profusely, set the woman back in her chair and helped her to remove the leg brace. The Intern had wondered at first why the Doctor didn’t use another prosthetic leg, but had quickly realised that the woman had sustained too much spinal injury to have even had used one, though she retained some feeling in her remaining lower extremity.

The Doctor was entirely nude. The Intern stood her up again, though this time her leg was unsupported and struggled to remain locked straight. The Doctor grunted quietly with the difficulty of having herself manoeuvred into the shower, but sighed in relief as the Intern set her down on a bench. She grabbed a bar attached to the wall and gave herself a moment to catch her breath, clearly exhausted. The intern carefully took the sprayer off of the wall and began to gently wash the broken woman, minding her sensitive scars and weakened lower half.

*******

The intern lets out an audible moan as the Doctor begins to push the well lubricated speculum inside of the Intern’s prepared anus. She’d just let out the enema solution into a receptacle, and knew that they needed to work quickly. The Speculum slides inside, fitting snugly in the still relatively tight hole, causing the Intern to shake her hips lightly. Even during the practices this part had been uncomfortable—but this time there was something different. The intern was blushing madly as the Doctor began to slowly crank the speculum open. She could see that her exposed cunt was glistening with the wetness of arousal. The heat only worsened; the desperation taking up more and more of her thoughts. She knows she shouldn’t be acting like this in front of the Doctor, and is deeply ashamed of herself. Somehow that shame only adds to the burning desire for sex nagging her from between her quivering thighs.

Once the speculum is open, forcing the Intern’s anus open a full two inches wide, they’re ready for the insertion.
From here all is new to the Intern and the Doctor alike, though the Doctor’s steady hands and even composure give nothing away.

“You’re ready?”
“Yes.” It’s a little too desperate.
“Good. Then let us begin.”

The Intern can’t see exactly what’s going on, though she can feel the heightened sensations of her anal cavity as something tepid and slick is inserted into it. After a few moments she tenses, yelling out quietly. The Doctor puts her hand on the Intern’s thigh to steady her.
“It has just attached to your digestive tract. The pain will pass in a moment.” She keeps her hand there for a moment too long, feeling the warmth of the Intern’s skin underneath her fingertips. The Doctor quickly inserts a previously prepared syringe full of a semi transparent liquid into the Intern’s cavity, gently removing the speculum.

“Alright. Good. We’re almost done. You’re doing well.” The Doctor offers her encouragement to the Intern. “Now we just need to install the plug in order to keep everything in place.”
The Doctor turns to the cart where a rather lewd looking device lay. It was an inflatable buttplug shaped specifically so that it could not be simply pushed out by the wearer.

“N-ngh, it’s big...” The intern cries out quietly, curling her toes. Her shameful breaths have turned to quick, laboured panting as she feels the thing begin to inflate in her ass.
“I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable...you’ll get used to it shortly,” The Doctor says, giving the Intern a moment to cool down.

The intern quickly settles. Her heart beats loud. She’s scared, for sure, of what’s happening; of what’s inside of her—but she wants this. She knows how influential the Doctor is in her current position.

But now her body wants it, too.

*******

They were out of the shower when the Intern had accepted the request.
“I...I thought about what you asked me the other day and I would be willing to help out personally with your, um...new venture,” she let the thought hang in the air, not having any other name to call the project. She supposed it was highly classified.

The Doctor wore only a towel.
“Excellent. I’m glad I have a trusted associate to worth with rather than some subject working for pay. They’re not so honest, those ones.”
The Intern nodded. “I appreciate the risk you’re taking for the advancement of the project.”
The Intern just smiled, gently beginning to inject a syringe’s worth of nutrients into the Doctor’s feeding tube.
“I...” The Doctor creased her brow, opening her mouth slightly, closing it, testing her words in her head for a moment, “...I appreciate also the, um...more intimate help you’ve provided me over these past months. You’re very good at what you do, though it surely isn’t required of you.”
The Intern had just been expecting talk of business. They rarely talked about other more personal matters unless they were strictly necessary. The Intern barely knew the cause of the Doctor’s horrific injuries, and most of the snippets she’d heard about the the woman’s personL life had come from other people.
The Intern smiled again, not knowing exactly how to respond. “I, um...Thank you,” she said, finishing the syringe before carefully tucking the feeding tube back behind the Doctor’s ear.
She took another moment to look at the Doctor. They locked eyes for a moment too long, the Doctor unflinching, staring curiously up at her Intern.
Contact broke.
“I’m rather exhausted...would you help me into bed?”
The intern sprung into action, realising she had been too still for a moment too long.
“Ah—yes, of course!”
She began to wheel the Doctor’s chair toward the bedroom of the spacious apartment. It was getting late, getting chilly. The Intern stopped briefly at the thermostat, raising the temperature by a couple of degrees.

“Thank you, Julia.” Said the Doctor.

*******

18 May 2067

The Intern moans loudly. Her stomach is so large it’s nearly scraping the plastic-lined floor of the fluorescent-lit laboratory room she’s kneeling in. Cameras stand around the woman and a trio of men stand off to the side. The Doctor sits near them, pensively running her fingers over the arm of her chair. A technician, dressed in scrubs, is ready to assist.

“D-Doctor...” The intern moans, “I-I’m too...too full...”
The technician looks to the Doctor, who nods her head in approval. The Technician removes the largely inflated plug.

“Over the past three days,” The Doctor explains to the onlookers, “the female parasite has been gestating in her digestive tract. It was fertilised with the seminal fluid of the male parasite, and currently bears its young inside of the host.”

The Intern moaned again, louder this time. Her toes curled in a mixture of arousal and agony as she tensed, her body cramping and spasming from within in an attempt to expel the foreign objects. She had abandoned all sense of dignity and restraint as she struggled naked on all fours before the small crowd, trying to spread her legs wider in an attempt to give the eggs an easier passage. Her cunt drips with lust and she finally gives in, massaging her clit in an attempt to ease some of the pressure.

The onlookers seem intrigued. “Why has she resorted to masturbation?”
“One of the...side effects of the hormones released by the parasite is an increased sense of arousal. This works in our favour to keep the subject somewhat complacent without the need for other possible injections or solutions.”
The trio nods in unison.

The Intern is wailing pitifully. She arches her back as a spurt of liquid escapes her stretched hole. “S-something...something is...c-coming—!!” She gasps loudly, holding her breath for a moment as she bears down on her ass with all of her might. She grunts, pushes, moans. After two laboured minutes the light blue, slightly speckled surface of an egg shows itself. With a wail, the egg is expelled from the Intern’s now gaping hole, hitting the floor with a thud.
The spherical egg is almost the size of a grapefruit.

“The eggs—will they themselves hatch?”
“No.” The Doctor replies, “These are all duds, as i’ve engineered them. Though when there is a need for more females, we can just as easily produce fertilised eggs.”

The Intern continues to touch herself, moaning as she did so. The next egg lined up into position.
She shuts her eyes tightly, gritting her teeth, and bears down on her ass, struggling to force the thing outward. After two more tries, the second egg pops out of her now miserably stretched anus. It’s throbbing. As the third egg comes, the Intern climaxes. Her gaping hole looks as if it’ll never close again. Her hips are shaking, her body dripping sweat and fluid all over the plastic covering.

“How many eggs are in each clutch?”
“Six to ten eggs, depending.”

“N-no more...I-I can’t...” the exhausted Intern whimpers before being forced into another set of contractions, this time expelling two more of the eggs from her swollen, gaping, and now nearly prolapsed back door. By the time she had finished with the next three, her intestines were hanging four inches outside of her body. Her stomach was relatively close to flat, now—however it bears the ominous, snaking outlines of the creature which had grown to inhabit her digestive tract.
She locks eyes with the doctor. The Doctor doesn’t know if her Intern is searching for approval or mercy.

“How long until the next clutch?”
“Anywhere between six and twelve hours before the next delivery will begin.”

The three men speak in hushed voices, then turn to face the Doctor.
“We believe your work will serve our interests.”
They turned and left. The Intern lay on the wet plastic sheet, desperately trying to bring herself to orgasm as the next clutch of eggs began to grow within her.