>>43 The Medic looked up from his reports, startled by a loud knock on the infirmary door. Settling his glasses on the bridge of his aquiline nose, he barked, "Who is it?" "Soldier, sir! Permission to enter?" The team's resident militaristic psychopath stood at ramrod attention outside the door. "Granted, enter..." the Medic tried to control his predatory smile. The Soldier had many virtues in the Medic's eyes, for all that he was deranged and noisy. Under his uniform, his battle-hardened muscles were seamed with delectable scars. He was simple-mindedly willing to take orders. Most importantly, he was terrified of the Medic and all trappings of medicine. The German wondered what had brought him to the infirmary... he had never made a voluntary visit before. "Vhat is the problem, Herr Soldat?" "Medic, do you recall several weeks ago, you disclosed the possibility that the BLUs were employing nuclear weaponry?" "Ah, yes," the Medic began to have an inkling as to why the Soldier was here. "Of course, Herr Soldat. But you will recall, my reports showed no evidence of genetic damage in your... semen sample." He bit into the words. If the Soldier wanted it, the Medic was going to make him work for it. "Yes, but." The Soldier was clearly fighting with himself. "Lately, I feel. Sick. Distracted. Like something's wrong with me, from the inside." "Weak, you mean?" The Medic twisted the knife. He was beginning to get an erection from the obvious discomfort in the Soldier's posture. He wanted more. "Take off your helmet, let me look in your eyes." The Soldier obeyed, oh how readily he obeyed, and set his helmet on the exam table. The Medic shone a bright flashlight in the American's eyes. "Hmm... pupils dilated, respiration rapid," the Medic remarked. "Patient appears agitated." And how wonderfully so. "But I cannot see anything immediately wrong..." he rested a hand on the Soldier's chest. "Herr Soldat, I must ask that you strip. You may go behind the privacy screen." Despite the name, the flimsy divider did nothing for privacy. On the contrary, it gave the effect of a strip-tease, hiding only the area between the Soldier's nipples and knees as he disrobed. Watching from the corner of his eye, the Medic took in the American's solid muscle and battle-scarred skin, a Spartan ideal of masculine perfection. The Soldier stepped out from behind the screen reluctantly, almost shyly. "No need for modesty like the blushing fraulein, Herr, we are both men here." His eyes raked over the Soldier's body. "I am still concerned about these scars. I think I should examine them." In truth, there was nothing particularly worrying about the marks. They recorded the history of an active, violent life, but they were all old and pale. The Medigun saw to it that all new injuries healed without a trace. However, the old scars were more than scientifically interesting to the Medic. They were beautiful. Sliding off his heavy rubber gloves, the Medic touched the Soldier's scars. Bullet wounds like violent flowers, long thin slashes, tangled webs of barbed-wire trails, broad continents where mangling wounds had healed badly. The Medic slid his fingers over the slippery-smooth tissue, the ridges and dips. "Do these ever pain you, Herr Soldat?" the Medic murmured the standard question like a proposition. "No, never," the warrior growled. "That could be a distressing symptom in itself- perhaps the nerve endings are dead." "It isn't about that, Doc. I just want you to... analyze a sample." The Soldier gritted his teeth. "A semen sample." The Medic suppressed a smirk. He knew full well what the Soldier needed. He was going to get his needs met as well. "What kind of a doctor would I be, if I were not thorough?" The Medic opened a drawer and placed a leather case on his desk. "I must test the sensitivity of this scar tissue; it is where cellular change from radiation is most likely to attack, and if it feels no pain, it can tell us nothing." He smiled, a mockery of a kind bedside manner. "I will of course take a semen sample after that." The Medic opened the case, revealing dozens of slender, sharp needles, each with a flared base to fit into a syringe. "Now, Herr Soldat, I know that you are a seasoned veteran, immune to pain, but you must tell me if each puncture... hurts." The Medic savoured the taste of the word on his tongue. Leaving the needles in full view, the Medic wasted some time by taking the Soldier's pulse and listening to his heartbeat. The military man's heart was thundering in his chest, almost deafening through the stethoscope. The Medic quelled a shudder of ecstasy as he watched the Soldier try to avert his gaze from the needles. The American was nearly insane with terror, and the Medic had scarcely touched him. The Medic drew the moment out by taking the Soldier's blood pressure- tch tch tch, so high. The German couldn't quite control his predatory smile, but the Soldier wasn't looking at him. His eyes were darting among the gleaming instruments arrayed around the room. "Herr Soldat, please extend your right arm and grasp the edge of the exam table." The Soldier did as he was told, his veins and muscles bulging. "Very good..." the Medic selected a needle and a likely-looking scar on the veteran's arm. "You must tell me if this hurts," he repeated for the sheer joy of the threat, holding the needle a millimeter above the Soldier's skin. "Yes, sir," the Soldier said, gritting his teeth. The Medic slid the needle in- gently, if such a thing was possible. Slowly, and using the minimum force that would penetrate the scar tissue. He slid the steel in, parallel to the Soldier's muscle, piercing the scar on entry and exit. The needle glittered on the Soldier's arm like insignia, like a gem. "Do you feel that?" "...Yes." The American's rough voice was tight. Leaving the needle in place, the Medic targeted another scar, a bullet wound on the far side of the man's chest. The Soldier stood as if made of wood- only the slightest tightening of his muscles indicated any change when the Medic punctured his skin, making a crossbar above the round wound. The scar now looked like a rosette medal, pinned to the Soldier's bare chest. He was going to be a delight to break. "And that?" Another needle slid into a ragged scar. "Yes." Working more quickly now, the Medic slid three needles into the Soldier's abdomen, at regular distances perpendicular to a long slash scar. They passed below the old wound like sutures. By now, the Soldier was sweating, his eyes wide, his muscles twitching every time the Medic touched him. The Medic's erection throbbed. He caressed a slick mass of scar tissue beside the American's navel. "Vhat caused this, Herr Soldat?" "Dog. Tried to rip my guts out while I was down." "This skin is... too tender to pierce. Just tell me, do you feel each touch?" He pricked one edge of the scar with the tip of a needle. "Yes." "This?" Another prick. "Yes." "This?" "Yes!" The Medic felt faint. His blood was roaring in his ears; if not for his iron self-control, his hands would surely be shaking. As if in a trance, he pierced another scar, then another, and another. The Soldier's whisper of "yes" in response to each new pain seemed to become a lover's encouragement, urging him onward. His own erection was a solid ache at the root of his being. The Medic felt he might go mad with this prolonged pleasure. When all but one of the needles in the leather case had been used, when the Soldier's chest and shoulders gleamed and bristled, the Medic knew how he must use the last needle. For all his indomitable will, the Soldier was trembling, eyes tightly shut. He was leaning heavily against the exam table, his hips thrust forward. His flaccid penis was perfectly displayed on a bed of dark pubic hair. The Medic's fingers tightened convulsively on the final needle. "Last one, Herr Soldat, do relax." The Medic delighted to see the Soldier's muscles tighten in fear, making each needle stand out. "Hold still, bitte..." The Soldier opened his eyes just in time to see the Medic thrusting the final needle toward his penis. He screamed, and the scream rose as the needle pierced his foreskin. It slid through in two places, neatly infibulating the warrior. The needle shone in hard and perfect contrast to the Soldier's violated flesh. Pleasure thundered through the Medic's body. Chest heaving as if from great exertion, he stepped back to admire his work. The Soldier's body gleamed with steel and sweat, each tiny wound bearing its own drop of blood. Some of them were large enough to trickle down the Soldier's skin, emphasizing the whiteness of the scar tissue. Tears of panic had gathered in the American's eyes; as the Medic watched, they began to slide down the Soldier's rugged cheeks. He did not move to hide them or even wipe them away as he stood paralyzed with terror. The intensity of the ecstasy ebbed gently from the Medic's body, leaving a tingling, weightless sensation. His cock began to soften, as if he had enjoyed the physical release of orgasm. The desperation for fear and pain was replaced by an unaccustomed feeling of tenderness toward the Soldier. "Here, here..." the Medic soothed. "You are not hurt, you are well... this proves that you are healthy." He began to pluck the needles out, starting with the one through the Soldier's foreskin. The fierce man groaned and shuddered as each needle was pulled free. It was an odd experience for the Medic; he might shoot opponents full of hundreds of syringes on the battlefield, but eh was never responsible for pulling them out again. He removed each steel sliver as carefully as possible, and had to fight down the desire to kiss away each drop of blood. When the last needle was drawn free, the Soldier collapsed back against the steel exam table, shaking and choking back sobs. Scarred, bloody, utterly broken- the Medic had not expected such beauty. He murmured reassuringly as he covered the Soldier with a white cotton blanket. "I fear you are in shock. Let me look at your pupils." Resting a hand on the American's face, the Medic gazed into his eyes. The Medic felt he could see the man's whole life in the clear blue depths. Taking a pad of gauze, he blotted away the tears. "You will be fine, just fine." He stroked the Soldier's cheek. "Let me get the Medigun, ve shall heal these tiny wounds." Hefting the arm of the Medigun, the Medic trained the healing beam on the Soldier. The needle marks that decorated his skin healed instantly. When it was done, the Medic set aside the healing cannon aside and followed the path of the beam with his hands, pushing aside the blanket to stroke the old scars that had healed back together on the American's skin. The Soldier's skin was flushed where the healing had stipulated the capillaries. Goosebumps stood out on the Soldier's skin wherever the Medic touched, and the military man was too exhausted to suppress his groan of pleasure. "That reminds me, Herr Soldat," the Medic purred. "I recall that I still need a specimen of your semen." The Soldier gulped, but rolled his hips toward the Medic as the German caressed his hipbone. "Do not worry. It will require no effort, and no... impure intent on your part." If that was the game that the Soldier had to play, then so be it. The Medic had enough impure intent for them both. "I believe that I have hit on an improved method since last time." "Yes, sir," the Soldier whispered. "What do I have to do?" "Just... remain still. I will do the necessary." The Soldier did as he was told, lying beautifully naked on the exam table. Meanwhile, the Medic readied his equipment. The last time he had extracted a semen sample from the Soldier, the Medic had used an electrical anal probe to force the other man to orgasm. It had been exquisitely satisfying, but since then, the Medic had enjoyed many ideas about what he would do if the American was ever again in his clutches. Now that he had the opportunity, the Medic was about to enact one of his favourites. Of course, it involved the electrical apparatus again. The Medic extracted the black box from the cabinet beneath the exam table and shoved it up between the Soldier's legs, forcing the other man to spread his thighs. The American clearly recognized the device; that much was clear from the fear and desperate desire in his face. He did not, however, recognize the next item that the Medic prepared. It was a large piece of equipment, sitting on a wheeled instrument tray. It had two glass cylinders, in which pistons pumped alternately when the Medic activated the motor. A glass tube about twelve inches long and two inches wide was connected to the main body of the machine by a long, flexible rubber hose. The Soldier looked at it in exhausted terror. "This is a machine of my own design, vhich vill increase the efficiency of the sample collection by one hundred percent." The Medic caressed the tube with gloved fingertips. "It vorks on the principle of the vacuum pump," he tapped the apparatus on the cart, "and vill produce and collect the sample in the most absolutely hygienic way." He leered down at the Soldier. "All you must do is lie there." The Medic reveled in watching the Soldier's eyes as he spoke. The American was usually completely closed off, but after the needle treatment, every reaction was achingly close to the surface. Fear at the sight of the apparatus, lust at the prospect of what was almost certainly the only pleasure he had experienced since the last time he was at the Medic's mercy. What a wonderful thing American puritanism was, the Medic reflected, to bind this excellent specimen of manhood in neuroses and deliver him gift-wrapped to the infirmary. "Spread your legs so that I can insert the probe," the Medic ordered. The Soldier obeyed, beautifully docile as always when menaced with medical instruments. The Medic slathered the thick, torpedo-shaped head of the probe with surgical lubricant and pressed it gently between the American's legs. The Soldier groaned as he was penetrated, and cried out as the device slid into place deep inside him, but he did not resist. The Medic smiled, "Very good, Herr Soldat," and flicked on the electricity. The current was low, though Medic could easily have increased it to the point of pain. At its present setting, it was only just enough to set up a vibration in the Soldier's own muscles, pleasuring him from the inside out. The man's breathing became loud and ragged, and he was momentarily distracted from the other machine. The Medic, however, was not. After pausing a moment to admire the sight of the Soldier sprawled out on the exam table, the Medic readied the working end of his vacuum pump. The mouth of the tube was thickly padded with soft black leather, so that there was only a small hole. He pressed this to the tip of the Soldier's rapidly hardening cock, and the suction pulled the organ into the tube. The Soldier moaned in hoarse ecstasy, and the Medic feared that his experiment would be over far too soon. Moving quickly to dial down both the suction and the electrical current, the Medic looked at his 'patient.' "Are you all right, Herr Soldat?" he asked, with considerably more concern than he usually showed for his victims' well-being. "Yes- yes, sir," the Soldier managed, panting. "This procedure is still experimental," the Medic grinned. "You must let me know if it seems that anything is wrong." The Medic was rewarded by a flash of naked fear on the Soldier's face, but he had no further intention to harm the man. Instead, he was going to see just how much pleasure he could wring from the American. Watching the Soldier carefully, the Medic increased the current through the anal probe. The Soldier gasped. Then, the Medic began slowly increasing first one setting, then the other, in sequence. The Soldier's whole body was shaking, his hands clenched on the sides of the exam table with the effort of not screaming. His skin was flushed scarlet, his face a mask of extremis. Smiling to himself, the Medic cut the power to both devices. "Herr Soldat, are you hurt?" "What- please- no!" the Soldier panted. "I mean, don't stop!" "Are you certain? You had seemed to be in great pain." The Medic could not keep himself from leering. "No, no pain, just.. necessary to the act." The Soldier looked at the Medic, desperation in his eyes. "Should ve continue?" the Medic adopted a look of reluctance. "Yes!" the Soldier gasped, his muscles taut. "If you are sure.." he was going to make him beg. "Please!" the Soldier barked, gratifyingly quickly. "Please!" he shouted, against his will. "If you insist..." the Medic let his hands hover over the switches until the Soldier moaned with frustration, then gently started the suction again. He kept the airflow low, nothing like the intensity that had been so close to satisfying the Soldier before. The American grunted and bucked his hips, and the Medic engaged the current through the anal plug. The Soldier gasped, slamming back against the table, writhing gently under the mechanical ministrations. The Medic marveled at his good luck. To have such a perfect physical specimen under his control, gasping in pleasure and bathed in sweat. He smiled, and rewarded the Soldier with increased suction. The Soldier cried out hoarsely and twitched one hand, as if to grasp the tube encasing his penis. The Medic considered the Soldier's reluctance to pleasure himself. On one hand, it would be glorious to see that sinewy, hard-knuckled hand moving on the Soldier's own cock, stroking the veiny shaft and sliding over the glistening knob. On the other hand, the very fact that he refused to do so was what had delivered him into the Medic's clutches in the first place... In a burst of inspiration, the Medic shoved the cart that carried the vacuum apparatus. The hose kinked and cut off the suction while the motor whirred loudly, leaving the Soldier once more without erotic stimulation. "Verdammte thing," the Medic muttered theatrically, turning up the current on the anal probe. "Herr Soldat, would you be so good as to hold the tube so that the hose does not pinch?" Groaning with frustration, the Soldier obeyed. As he pulled the tube so that it stood vertically away from his body, the hose was stretched enough to let the air flow again. The suction resumed full force, and the Soldier moaned and cursed in abandon. Now that his body was complicit in his own pleasure, he could not resist; just as the Medic had hoped. He stroked himself with the cumbersome glass tube, pressing his cock against the slick interior and stroking the tight leather mouth of the apparatus along his shaft. Sighing with satisfaction, the Medic increased both the current and the suction to the highest pleasurable levels. The Soldier's entire body was shaking once more, his muscles taut. He came, screaming hoarsely and driving his erection deep into the suction tube. The Medic was pleased to note the copious volume of the Soldier's semen; clearly, he had not pleasured himself since his last "treatment;" equally clearly, he would return the next time that the desire for orgasm grew too strong. Moving gently, the Medic stepped down both current and suction until the Soldier lay utterly exhausted on the exam table. "Sehr gut," the Medic praised the Soldier as he extracted teh probe and set the suction tube in a beaker to drain. "Such a fine specimen," he purred, leaving it unclear as to whether he was referring to the semen sample or to the Soldier himself. The Medic replaced the blanket, which had fallen to the ground in the course of the procedure, and placed another blanket, still folded, under the American's head as a pillow. Somewhat to the Medic's surprise, the Soldier fell deeply asleep. Unaware that his smile held unusual warmth, the Medic tucked the blanket more tightly around his patient's muscular, naked body. He then turned to his desk to write up his report. The Medic always wrote extensive reports of his experiments on his teammates, and this one certainly warranted recording. From the Soldier's struggle to balance his sexual neuroses and his fear of medical treatment, resulting in an erotic dependence on Medic himself (a circumstance that pleased the German immesurably) the psychological aspects were fascinating. Moreover there was so much physical data to collect. How many needles could the Soldier take, his physiological responses, panting, sweating, eventually weeping as he did so. Then, his reactions to sexual stimulation, electrical and suction, what settings had proven most effective. The Medic sketched a rough graph of the voltage over time, and wrote a brief description of the Soldier's orgasm. This last was too much for the Medic. He seized the beaker into which the Soldier's ejaculate had drained, and took it with him into the linen closet. The Soldier produced truly beautiful semen samples, the Medic reflected as he undid his fly. Copious, viscous, translucent white. Dipping a gloved finger into the thick fluid, Medic daubed it onto the tip of his cock. He shuddered with pleasure as he eased his foreskin back, rubbing the semen all over it. Switching hands, he continued stroking himself as he licked the Soldier's seed form his fingers. In his mind, he relived the Soldier's torment. Those beautiful, taut scars, the way sweat glistened upon his skin. The look of agony when he finally broke down and participated in his own violation. Medic wanted more of that, needed to see the proud American debase and degrade himself. He imagined the Soldier giving in once and for all, sacrificing his will to become a slave to the sexual desires he'd repressed for so long. The Medic would make him wear a heavy leather collar, chain him to a wall like a dog. The Soldier would beg for release, beg to be used in whatever experiments the Medic cared to perform- The German forced himself to slow his frantic strokes, tracing a fingertip delicately around the head of his cock. Perhaps it would be sweeter if the Soldier resisted. The Medic envisioned piercing him with hundreds of needles, each one attached to a battery, an array of dials enabling him to control the current to each one. He could play the man like a violin as he struggled in heavy leather restraints. In his mind's eye, in his recent memory, he could see the man's muscles bulging, smell the sweat dripping down. Stroking himself more quickly, the German imagined the American begging for mercy- "Please- " The Medic couldn't be sure whether he was hearing the cries of his imaginary Soldier or whether he was hearing his own gasps as he came. His semen splashed into the beaker, mingling with his teammate's seed. The sight ws enough to elicit another throb, provoke another moan. Looking down in satisfaction at the mixed fluids, the Medic had another idea. With a smile, he tucked his clothing back together and slipped into the infirmary. Working as quietly as possible, the Medic went to his pharmaceutical supply and set a few bottles on the workbench. First, he added a dram of sugar syrup to the beaker holding the semen, then a drop of peppermint oil. This preparation could turn even the most bitter drug into something the Scout would swallow. It was ideal for his plan. "Herr Soldat," he approached the man sleeping on the exam table under the thin infirmary blanket. "Vake up, Herr." "What-" the Soldier looked around frantically, clearly getting a grip on where he was and what he had done... what he had permitted the Medic to do to him. "You fell asleep after your treatment," the Medic scolded gently. "However, since you are still here, I might as vell give you the results of my analysis. Your sample shows no sign of cellular damage or abnormality. You are in exellent health, a perfect example of manhood." The Medic could see his ploy working- the Soldier's panic was dissipating in the presence of a professional manner and a soothing tone of voice. "Good, that's... good," the Soldier growled, trying to save face. "I think zat you should return, no more than a month from now, so zat I can monitor your health consistently. After all, if you are feeling veak, it may be zat your current excellent health represents a decline from previous perfect health." He the implication into the sentence like a needle into a vein; he had to make sure that the Soldier would come back. "To ensure your continued health, I have a vitamin compound for you here." The Medic held up the beaker of semen. "What's in it?" Still naked, the Soldier put his helmet back on and glared suspiciously at the white fluid. "It is a compound of proteins and amino acids such are produced by the human body in the presence of testosterone." Quite true, actually. "However, there is some risk of side-effects. Zis compound may increase aggression and feelings of rage." If the Soldier ever found out what was in the beaker, that would certainly be true. "Give it here." Exactly as planned, the Soldier thought of increased aggression as a bonus, not an adverse effect. "Vhat do you say?" the Medic chided gently. "Please," the Soldier added. The Medic's fingers clenched around the beaker. If he hadn't just masturbated, he would surely have had an orgasm right there. Panting slightly, he offered the beaker to the Soldier. The American took it, the blanket sliding off his broad chest as he sat up. He swallowed the thick liquid without flinching. A chill ran down the Medic's spine as the Soldier licked the rim of the beaker to get the last drop. He swallowed hard. "Very good, Herr Soldat. You may get dressed, now. Remember to come back in a month."