"Thank you for reassuring me," I said, trying to keep the arousal and the distress out of my voice. "I do have a very active 'sex life' as you put it. If you knew what all had been inside me, you'd be even more impressed."
Dr. Bonner's had taken his finger out of my rear and I was able to relax even more. I grew a smile that wouldn't go away and I started running off at the mouth.
"One thing I should mention that I can do. I can dilate my cervix at will. It lets me take large cocks all the way inside." I held up my hands to illustrate. I didn't know it I was asking his opinion or just bragging.
Dr. Bonner looked skeptical. Only one hairy eyebrow went up.
"Really!" I declared. "All the way inside me, right into my uterus," I said, proudly.
"That is clever of you," he said. "I guess I'll just have to see that for myself, though. Can you show me?"
"Sure!" I was getting very aroused and was at the giddy stage. My clit had swelled up considerably and looked like a long plump lump running into my slit. The end poked out over my opening and when he took his hands away to pick up the speculum, I shook my hips to make it wag a little. He had commented that it was much bigger than normal. I figured he was entitled to see it when it was engorged. I noticed Mom covering a smile with her hand. She was probably thinking that I might have relaxed a bit too much. She might have been right about that, but I wanted to tell Dr. Bonner a few more secrets and that would be easier to do if I was distracted.
The speculum was the metal kind with the ratchet and wheel thingie to open either end independently. I spread my legs apart widely and tried to open up inside as best I could so he could get it in me easily. I had to tilt my hips a bit to give him a straight shot at it and I was pleased when it went all the way down to the wide part without a hitch.
"You are very talented," he said, approvingly. "Your muscle control is close to phenomenal."
I smiled happily. Flattery is always welcome.
"Now show me how you take such a big penis in such a small vagina." He pulled on a headband with a flashlight on it and peered down inside while he adjusted the speculum so he could see better.
I concentrated on putting on a show by dilating my cervix and wiggling it around. It was a trick he seemed to find amusing until I really got going and made it yawn open like I did for Jim and Bud. Then his amusement faded into a more professional expression and he turned to open a drawer and take out another instrument with a long gooseneck and an eyepiece. Without explanation, he fed the small end though the speculum and peered into the eyepiece. He lowered it deeped and deeper into me, until I felt it brush against my cervix and I knew he was probing inside my womb. I resumed my efforts to open the path for him and I was rewarded by a couple of 'ummm's and 'oh's as he looked around. Finally, he pulled the gooseneck thing out. I thought it had been as deeply inside me as anything had ever been.
"Remarkable!" he said, laying the scope aside. "You have a great degree of voluntary control over muscles that other girls don't even know they have. I was concerned that you might have been injured during one of your escapades, but I can clearly see... quite clearly, in fact... that everything is intact. I would say 'normal' but very little about you seems to fit that description.
"I can see why you would be concerned about preventing pregnancy. But there is something else you want to tell me, too. Isn't there?" He removed the speculum but made no move to lower the stirrups.
"Yes, there is. I need to confide in you. You know about the unusual degree of control I have over things that normally are not under conscious control. It goes much further than that." I peeled off the plastic bandage covering the needle-mark from where the blood sample had been taken. I held my arm out for his inspection.
"You can't see the hole, can you?"
He examined my skin carefully. He couldn't find anything because it had healed almost the second the needle had been withdrawn.
"No, I can't," he said in a puzzled tone.
"I heal very quickly. It's something else I have control over. Mom said it was like what stigmatics can do, in reverse."
"OK," he said, accepting my statement without judgment.
"You said the piercings and the hoodectomy had healed nicely. I'm sure they have. But both were done only two days ago."
He said nothing, but his reluctance to accept my claim was clear from his expression.
"OK, show and tell time. Mom, remember the stigmata?"
"Yes, honey. Vividly. You scared the pee out of me when you did that the first time."
"Then you may want to close your eyes. It's 'hey y'all, watch this' time again," I giggled. My nervousness and arousal had combined to put me in a drunken manic mood. I was ready to try to impress the doctor, who still looked skeptical, but couldn't bring himself to say the word 'bullshit'.
I lay back on the slanted table and focused on the acoustic ceiling tiles. They were the same rectangular panels you see everywhere, but the one right over me had a small flyspeck on it and I locked in on that. Sliding sideways in to a trance had become so second-nature to me that I probably could have done it in my sleep. That brought up another line of thought involving the dangers of nightmares, but I pushed it away quickly and dove deeper into the place in my mind where I was the General and all the billions of cells in my body were troops under my command.
I started with something bold and impressive. I visualized a slit in my skin. A long bloodless gash through my skin that spread open like a razor-cut and revealed the layer of muscle underneath. I didn't need to look to know it was happening, I heard Mom start to retch and Dr. Bonner roll his stool quickly away from me.
I closed the slit and healed it shut. Since I had opened it by myself, it was a quick and easy process to close it again, taking only a small amount of energy. I heard Dr. Bonner's stool roll slowly back as his curiosity overcame his shock.
For my next trick, I picked an easy one. To make it quick, I did the blue bikini swimsuit what I already knew. I wondered how effective it would be with me lying there with my legs apart, but it was a good segue anyway. I removed the bikini by making it smaller and smaller, until it disappeared completely.
After the bikini, I marched the heart-shaped tattoo from its starting point in the hollow of my shoulder, across my chest, down my stomach to my hip, and then down my leg to stop on my knee, before making it disappear as well.
I counted off three seconds to make sure I had Dr. Bonner's attention, then I snapped into the full animated Dragon body-suit, took my scaly, clawed feet out of the stirrups and sat up quickly to see his expression.
I had planned on saying something snappy, or maybe just giving a growl to top the effect, but when I saw poor Dr. Bonner's face, I knew it wasn't needed. The man was busy showing off his own skin-color control — he'd turned white as a sheet and his mobile eyebrows were trying to crawl across his scalp and hide behind his head.
Fearing that I might be giving him a heart-attack, I dropped the effect immediately and waited for him to recollect himself. It took him a solid minute before he was able to speak, and I promised myself to save the Dragon for the bad-guys from now on.
"That... ah... was most impressive," he said in a small weak voice.
"I'm afraid it doesn't stop there," I told him. "There are other things I can do, too." I waited to see how he was handling this before going on.
"Oh? What kind of things?" His professional manner was coming back and he began to look more like a doctor with an interesting patient than a scared old man. There's nothing like scaring the crap out of someone to see what they're made of. Bonner looked to be fairly stern stuff underneath.
"Strength," I ticked them off on my fingers, "telepathy, and a pain threshold so high that it may as well not exist."
"Telepathy? You mean you can read my mind?" His skepticism shattered, he looked ready to believe whatever I told him.
"No, I can't. Don't worry. The best I can do is read strong emotions, like fear. But I can pick that up at a distance. I don't know how far yet, but a couple of blocks, at least. I can only talk mind to mind to one other person, but that link is so strong that she can visit my dreams. I can send to others a little tiny bit, but it has to be head to head and all I can get across is the same kind of strong emotion that I can sense from most other people."
"So, if someone in the next room were to become badly frightened for some reason..."
"I would know it. I could even tell the direction and distance, but not very well."
"Remarkable!"
"The other two things are what bother me the most. I'm a lot stronger than I used to be, and that strength seems to be multiplied several times when I'm mad, or — you know how you get all revved-up when you're working out, you feel like you're suddenly a lot stronger?" I looked at his thin arms and dropped that analogy. "I think it's the adrenalin that does it. Does that seem reasonable?" I didn't want to tread on his turf by going on about my own theory, but it fit so well with what I had seen that I had to mention it.
"Yes, it's quite reasonable. There are many cases in the medical literature of hysterical strength being demonstrated under conditions of great stress. The basis for this has always been assumed to be an idiosyncratic reaction to adrenalin. You seem to have managed to learn to tap into it voluntarily. You mentioned stigmata as an explanation for your extraordinary body control and this is as good an explanation as any. We really don't understand how the mind affects the body and we're just beginning to try."
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Chapter 15D
"It's the pain thing that bothers me the most, doc. I've become a pain-slut — something Mom was afraid would happen. In me, the most excruciating thing you can imagine feeling gets turned into something neither pain nor pleasure, and I find some things to be... enjoyable that other people would cringe just to think of. Does this make any sense?"
"Ah, well, you should more properly be taking this up with a psychiatrist..."
"You understand that I need to keep this a secret. The fewer people who know, the better."
"Why?" He sounded puzzled.
I thought back and realized that somehow I'd missed that part. I blushed. Embarrassed not at the situation, but at the claim I was about to make.
"The thing is... ah... what I do with this stuff. I have, like this part-time job. More of a hobby, really..."
Mom interrupted my verbal meandering. "She's a SuperHeroine," she said, flatly. I swear I could hear the capital letters when she said it. I almost expected some Wagnerian theme music to break out in the room.
"Yes. That." I finished, lamely. "I know that sounds soooo totally egomaniacal."
Dr. Bonner had almost gone back to his old self, but for some reason, now he looked shocked again. His eyes unfocussed and he looked off into a corner of the room for a bit before looking back at me.
"My daughter has a close friend that she went to school with..." he started, and then swallowed before going on with what he wanted to say. "The friend and her children were in a terrible car wreck this past weekend and my daughter went to visit her in the hospital this morning. She stopped by to tell me about it at lunch. Apparently another car passed too closely and forced them off the road and their car rolled down an embankment. They were trapped in their car and Gloria — my daughter's friend — was afraid the gas tank would explode and burn them all alive. Apparently a policeman arrived shortly after the wreck happened, but the car was all crushed and there wasn't anything he could do to get them out. Gloria told her that a couple of girls came along and stopped to help. She said the policeman put a blanket over them and then one of the girls climbed on the hood of the car and tore the roof off to free them. I assumed that she was just describing a dream she'd had under the influence of the drugs they gave her for the pain. Both her legs were broken in the wreck you see, and she's on a morphine drip to help control the pain. That kind of medication makes you pretty goofy."
I wasn't sure how to respond to that. It wasn't a question and I couldn't tell what it was he wanted to know. I knew what I wanted to know though.
"Are the kids all right?"
"Yes. Shaken up. Scared to death about their mother being hurt, but they are fine. The car was a blue Plymouth minivan." That last bit was so disconnected that it had to be a test.
"No. It was green," I said. The silence that followed was so thick that it could have been cut with a chainsaw.
"As you say. It was green. And you know that because... ?"
"I'm the one who got them out of the car."
"Thank you."
"No. Don't thank me. I don't do it for gratitude. I don't do it for any kind of reward."
"Then why?"
"Because I can. It's as simple as that. I believe in doing what you can to help. I can, so I do. That's all. I don't want publicity. I certainly don't want fame. I learned very early on that the only thing I can get from doing this that is of any value to me at all is the knowledge that I did what I could. So save the thanks. I don't want to seem rude, but you don't need to thank me for doing what I must do if I'm going to be able to look at myself in the mirror. It's actually a kind of insult, see? If I didn't believe I was doing the right thing, all the thanks in the world wouldn't be enough to take the job. Understand?"
"No, I don't. But then, I don't have your unique perspective on the matter."
"As I was saying," I said to get back to the subject. "Pain is a regular part of my job. If I jump in front of a bullet..."
"You've done that?"
"Uh, yeah. It hurt. A lot. But I had to deal with it and keep going, see? I can't be standing by, going 'Ow, ow, ow' while people are being killed. I have to suck it up and keep fighting."
"So this high tolerance, even an affinity, for pain is a necessity for you?"
"I guess. Does that sound like a rationalization?"
"As I said, I don't have your perspective. And I'm not qualified to tell you you're not completely out of your tree — pardon my clinical jargon — but it does sound like you have developed a viable means of coping with a... professional hazard. I wouldn't worry too much about it. The fact that you are concerned means that you are aware of the potential for this to become a problem and that indicates to me that you still have control of the situation. If you find yourself seeking out situations where you put yourself at risk just so you can experience pain, then you will know it has become a problem and you need to do something about it."
That made me feel a lot better. I hadn't gone out looking for The Torturer hoping he would hurt me. I just had been able to turn the tables on him by being tough enough to take what he did to me and turn the other cheek with a smile on my face.
"Thanks! That helps."
He helped me down off the table and gave me some paper towels to wipe off the greasy lubricant he had applied to my pussy and my anus. I thought the darn goo was unnecessary. I would have been fine without it.
Mom helped me back into my clothes while Dr. Bonner watched with an almost wistful expression. I had been quite comfortable naked and I think he had gotten used to me being that way, too. It made me smile to think that there are some rewards for being... decorative.
When I was dressed and seated again, he gave us his opinion of my health and recommendations for making the best of it. Most of it was the same dry stuff we got in the Health segments of girl's Gym. When he got down to why I had agreed to the visit in the first place, my ears perked up.
"... even allowing for your unique physiology and your abilities, I think you are in excellent health and I have no reservations about you becoming a breast milk donor. I will send a letter to that effect to the hospital and they will let you know when you can start making deliveries. Although why someone like you would want to do this is beyond me."
"Because I can."