"Oh… my God," she whispered, the words escaping her in a breathy rush, all pretense of clinical detachment vanishing.
Hearing her shocked murmur, Nurse Tanya turned fully. Her eyes followed the doctor's gaze. Her own professional composure evaporated. A soft, audible gulp traveled the length of her slender throat. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes, wide with disbelief and a raw, hungry fascination, became glued to my crotch. She made no effort to look away.
Cathy, standing behind them, let out a tiny, choked sound. I glanced over. Her face was flushed a deep, beautiful crimson. Her blue eyes were wide, not with shock, but with a stunned, primal awe. Her throat worked as she too swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on me with an intensity I'd never seen before. She wasn't looking at me as her son; she was looking at a man.
The attention was a wave of pure, undiluted feminine arousal that washed over me. I felt a surge of masculine pride so potent it was dizzying. It seemed the one thing the old Sael and I truly shared was our genetic inheritance downstairs. After I took over the body, the size seemed to grow slightly, although the body was slowly recovering, my little bro down there, slowly changing into a snake.
Resting soft against my thigh, my cock was a thick, heavy weight. It measured a good nine inches in length, a pale, smooth column of flesh, and boasted a staggering girth of nearly two and a half inches in diameter. It was veined and substantial, crowned with a broad, smooth glans that already looked slick with anticipation. It was, even in its flaccid state, a blatantly, almost obscenely masculine piece of anatomy.
Dr. Moretti finally found her voice, though it was several octaves higher and breathier than before. "I… I need to… for the report… I have to note…" She blinked, trying to regain her professional footing and failing miserably.
She looked from my cock to my face, her expression one of stunned admiration. "Sael… that is… I have never seen… I mean, in a medical context… that is the most… impressively proportioned and frankly beautiful penis I have ever encountered in my career."
"Thank you, Doctor," I said, "I've been told its above average...". my tone laced with a calm amusement, something that I kinda wanted to say a lot of time.
Nurse Tanya let out a weak, strangled laugh. "Above average is… is a cosmological understatement," she breathed, her eyes still devouring the sight.
"For an accurate assessment," Dr. Moretti said, her voice regaining a shred of control, though her blush remained, "I need to measure you at full erection… It's a standard part of the fertility and viability screening." The request was medical, but the way she said it was anything but that.
"I understand," I replied.
She nodded, her gloved hand trembling just slightly as she reached for me. Her fingers, cool through the latex, wrapped around my flaccid shaft. The moment she made contact; a jolt of electricity seemed to pass through her. Her breath hitched.
She began to stroke, her touch initially tentative, then growing more confident, more curious. And under her ministrations, my body responded.
It wasn't just an erection; it was a transformation. The thick, heavy flesh in her hand began to swell, to harden, to rise. It grew in both length and, astonishingly, in girth, thickening in her grasp until her fingers could no longer meet around it. The veins became more prominent, tracing a roadmap of potency along its length. It rose to its full, angry, magnificent glory: a solid ten inches of rigid, pale flesh, now a full three inches in diameter, jutting straight up from my groin like a monolith.
Dr. Moretti stared, utterly mesmerized. Slowly, almost reverently, she withdrew her hand. She held her own slender forearm next to my erect cock. It was as long as her forearm from wrist to elbow, and visibly thicker. A soft, incredulous laugh escaped her.
"It's… it's as big as my arm," she whispered, her clinical duty completely forgotten in the face of sheer anatomical wonder. The air in the room was thick with the scent of her perfume, Tanya's nervous excitement, and my mother's stunned silence.
The air in the examination room was no longer sterile. It was thick, charged, and heavy with the scent of three women's arousal and the primal, musky aroma of my own fully erect flesh. My cock stood at attention, a pale, veined monument of rigid authority, utterly dominating the space. Dr. Moretti stunned proclamation—"It's as big as my arm"—hung in the silence, a testament to the sheer, shocking reality of me.
Dr. Moretti's clinical composure had completely shattered. Her breathing was shallow and quick, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her white coat and black top. The blush on her olive skin had deepened to a feverish crimson, spreading down her neck and across the visible swell of her cleavage. Her dark eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide with a hungry fascination that had nothing to do with medicine. She was still holding her forearm next to my shaft, her gaze flicking between the two as if her brain refused to believe the comparison.
Nurse Tanya stood rooted to the spot, one hand absentmindedly pressed against the incredible curve of her own hip, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of her spectacular ass. Her lips were parted, and a faint, sheening layer of perspiration glistened on her brow. Her eyes were locked on my penis with a kind of voracious intensity, as if she were mentally mapping every thick vein, every subtle pulse of its formidable girth. A soft, almost imperceptible whimper escaped her throat.
And Cathy. My mother. Her presence was a constant, warm pressure at my periphery. Her face was a mask of stunned, breathless awe. Her blue eyes, so like my own, were wide and dark, reflecting the towering length of my erection. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and I saw the rapid flutter of her pulse in the delicate hollow of her throat. She wasn't hiding her stare; she was captivated, utterly lost in the visual proof of her son's potent masculinity.
Since arriving in this world, I'd been the picture of restraint. I'd navigated shock, grief, and bureaucratic hell with a calm focus. I hadn't so much as touched myself, channeling every ounce of my considerable, pent-up sexual energy into observation and planning. But now, under the combined weight of their blatant, stunned desire, that control was being tested to its absolute limit.
"Sshhukk~ Shuuk~ Shhuukk~".
The sensation of Dr. Moretti's latex-clad fingers, even though the barrier, had been electric. Now, with her standing so close, her hot, jasmine-scented breath washing over the head of my cock, the urge to thrust, to claim, was a primal drumbeat in my blood. My length throbbed visibly, a fresh bead of clear pre-cum welling from the slit and tracing a glistening path down the broad, smooth crown.
"Sshhukk~ Shuuk~ Drip…".
Dr. Moretti watched that tiny droplet form and fall. A shudder ran through her. Her professional intent seemed to war with a much deeper, baser instinct. Her eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with want, lifted to mine.
"The… the examination requires a check for… sensitivity and full vascular response," she breathed, her voice a husky, seductive thing that bore no resemblance to her earlier professional tone. Her gloved hand hovered, trembling, just inches from my shaft.
"The glove," I said, my own voice a low, commanding rumble that seemed to vibrate through the room. "You can take it off, Doctor... Lose it. I want a proper examination."
Her breath hitched. For a moment, pure, unadulterated lust flashed across her face. She looked from my eyes to my cock and back again, a silent plea and a promise in her gaze. With fingers that fumbled slightly, she peeled the latex glove from her hand and let it drop soundlessly to the floor. Her bare hand, now exposed, was elegant and warm. She slowly, hesitantly, brought it closer.
"Grab~ Sshhuuk~ mm..". The heat radiating from her palm was an incredible tease.
She paused, her face inches away, and then, in a move that was anything but clinical, she closed her eyes and leaned in. She took a deep, deliberate whiff, inhaling my musky, masculine scent directly from the source. A low, throaty moan escaped her, a sound of pure, animal appreciation.
"Dio mio…" she whispered, her lips parted. Her tongue, pink and wet, appeared, and she brought it closer, aiming to lick that glistening drop from my tip, to taste me. The room held its breath. Nurse Tanya's hand had crept to her own mouth, her teeth biting down on a knuckle. Cathy's eyes were wide, her body rigid.
"Cough!! Ahem!".
Just as Dr. Moretti tongue was about to make contact, a sound broke the spell. A cough. Not a nervous cough. A deliberate, sharp, clearing of a throat.
It was Cathy.
The sound was like a bucket of cold water thrown on Dr. Moretti. She jerked back as if electrocuted, her eyes flying open, wide with sudden, horrified realization at her own unprofessional conduct. She stumbled back a step, her face a portrait of flustered embarrassment.
"I… my apologies," she stammered, hastily smoothing down her lab coat, a futile attempt to regain her shattered dignity.
"That was… highly inappropriate. The examination is… is complete. Everything is perfectly healthy. More than healthy." She was babbling, avoiding everyone's eyes. "We can… we can proceed directly to the donation collection."
Nurse Tanya, also snapping out of her trance, nodded vigorously, though her eyes kept stealing hungry glances my way. "Yes. Of course… We can provide the collection kit and give you privacy. It's a simple process; we can talk you through it."
It was then that Cathy moved. She stepped forward, placing herself firmly between the two medical professionals and me. Her posture had changed. The stunned awe was gone, replaced by a calm, matriarchal authority that was utterly compelling. Her cheeks were still flushed, but her voice was steady and left no room for argument.
"That won't be necessary," she said, her tone firm yet polite.
Both Dr. Moretti and Nurse Tanya looked at her, confused.
"I appreciate the offer," Cathy continued, her gaze sweeping over them before settling on me with a look of fierce, protective possession. "But I am his mother and his legal guardian… It is my responsibility, and my duty, to see this through. I will be the one to assist him with the donation. To ensure it is done safely, properly, and without any… unnecessary complications."
The doctor and nurse exchanged a look. To my surprise, instead of protesting, their expressions shifted to ones of understanding and… respect.
"Of course, Mrs. Hardcox," Dr. Moretti said, her voice now respectful, her professional mask finally back in place, albeit a bit shakily. "That is, in fact, the recommended protocol for young men in these circumstances. Family-guided education and assistance is always encouraged. It ensures comfort and minimizes stress, which can… affect the sample quality."
Nurse Tanya nodded in agreement. "It's the proper way. The family duty. We'll prepare the collection room for you both immediately. It's just through that door." She gestured to a second, more discreet door in the room.
Cathy gave them a regal nod. "Thank you."
The two women quickly gathered their things, both casting one last, long, yearning look at my still-throbbing erection before practically fleeing the room, the door sighing shut behind them.
Silence descended, thick and heavy with implication. The only sound was my own heartbeat thudding in my ears. I was alone with my mother. And my mother had just formally claimed the right to make me come.
I looked at her. She turned to face me, her blue eyes meeting mine. The authority was still there, but underneath it, I saw the rekindled heat, the blush returning to her cheeks, the quickness of her breath. She wasn't just doing her duty. She was claiming a prize. And she was barely containing her excitement.
"Well, Sweetie," she said, her voice dropping to an intimate, husky register that vibrated straight through my core and into my aching cock. "Let's get you taken care of."