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Doctor's Orders	By : TENEBRE Category: +S through Z > Simpsons Views: 23061 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Simpsons, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Doctor's Orders
- 2-The Last Straw
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- 2
            Homer sat down beside Marge. The waiting room was cold and Marge felt small and, being the only woman, invisible. She'd felt so different the last time she was here. She wondered what had changed. She worn her green dress as usual, and was certain she'd left the house this time with a bra. But it did feel like she was missing something. She wasn't sure what it was though.
            Across from them in the room was a big man fixing a water fountain, his biceps testing the material of his sleeves. His uniform was tight across the chest, back and arms, his sleeves were rolled back to the elbow, revealing thick forearms. Marge stared at him for a while as Homer was speaking to her, only partly cognizant of what he was saying. She nodded while the maintenance worker bent over the seat of his pants facing her so she could seem the large bulge between his hips looming like a spare compartment of his jeans where he'd stored a flashlight for seeing into small unlit corners of the metal anatomy.
            Marge didn't know why she was looking. She didn't know what she was seeing here could've drawn her attention away from her husband. Or how it so easily muted the words from Homer's mouth.
            But she kept on staring, up until he was standing at an angle and she could see the broad shoulders that seemed to be only naked and painted the color of his shirt.
            This is peculiar, she thought as he turned around so his eyes were up underneath the fountain, but his face was facing her. She felt Homer take her hand into his own. She felt him snuggled up against her so his ear was against her shoulder. She looked down at the maintenace and began to shift in her seat like something was wrong with the axis of his legs.
            "I love you Marge" Homer said, the words were soft. Marge started to think about how much Homer worried about her, how she had to get better for him. How lucky she was to have someone that loved her as much as Homer.
            Then the maintenance worker shot a glance up at Marge. She quivered in her seat, not knowing in readjusting her seat the skirt she wore had crawled a great deal up the length of her thighs. Her heart was pounding and her ears were ringing again. She was terrified and felt like she was in standing in the eyeline of a hungry animal. All alone, the only woman, and this animal only wanted women. An intense heat from her heart was suddenly down inside her, beneath her clothes, between her breasts, and then washing over them like the foaming end of a surf, then down between her legs until the air up inside her skirt began to pull the very moisture from the air and she could feel it against her skin.
            She realized as she studied the man's face and muscles that deformed the uniform around his body that as she stared, and as he stared, she was spreading her legs apart so he could see between them. The air went cold and Marge realized when the cold air touched her between her what she'd neglected to do before she left the house, as she was getting dressed.
            Somewhere, probably on the floor of her bedroom, was a pair of panties she'd removed before leaving. Now the bare axis of her thighs, and Marge didn't doubt a sumptuous view of her pussy could be seen from many feet away. Marge wondered if from where the maintenance worker sat he could see what felt like her insides palpating, the lips of her pussy dilating like the pupil of an eye safe in the darkness. Marge wasn't safe though. She didn't feel safe she wasn't far enough away from reason to feel but two things now. Guilt and desire.
            They weren't equally matched though. Marge kept her legs wide apart even as she saw the maintenance worker call over another man from across the room to look at her.
            Now two men could see. They could probably see how turned on she was, and how powerless she was. She'd never wanted to feel that way until now. They could probably also see how Marge's hair wasn't naturally blue.
            The gazes of those men, though they weren't her husband, and even more were strangers to her, were more intoxicating than anything Marge had felt before. If they did do something, if she didn't do something soon, she would go out of her mind.
            Her guilty heart told her to close her legs, she was married, she was in love, but her heart didn't know what her pussy needed. Her guilty conscience didn't know how badly she wanted this, how desperately she suddenly needed it.
            She wanted to whisper the word "Please" to them from across the room, so they could see it, as in 'please fuck me, please undress me, please eviscerate my guilt and fuck my innocent pussy until it belongs to a whore.'
            "Make" is all she said instead, under her breath, as in 'make me do things, horrible things, make me your whore, make me do what in good conscience I can't do because my husband is here.'
            She couldn't force herself to cross the room though, only sit and shake out of anxiety, out of anticipation, out of lust.
            Then she heard her name called.

            They asked that she go alone, leave her husband in the waiting room, now the doctor was staring at her, watching her shake alone in her seat. She didn't know why he didn't speak. She needed him to say something. Lately she'd been feeling an itch inside her body, not just a sexual one, but something that felt like servitude or inferiority, like somehow she was beneath men. It didn't make sense. She like a child all over again.
            Don't speak unless you are spoke to.
            Say something, she thought and she was screaming it inside her head.
            The doctor smiled, he said, "I think I have just the thing for your anxiety Marge."
            He punched a button on the intercom on his desk, "Send them in."
            Marge watched the door open and in walked the two men from the waiting room. They gave her a wide smile and then a nod toward the doctor,
            "What the hell is this?" Marge said.
            The doctor stared at Marge, the timid little picture of innocence she was, every inch of this image was a lie.
            "Marge, I was willing to ignore this until now. I felt sorry for you but I can't help but feel you took advantage of me. You said you wanted help. You said you didn't want to do what you were doing. You wanted this to stop."
            "But I do want this to stop. I can't help it. I don't know why. But I have to stop it. It feels wrong. I can't do this to my husband. I can't do this to my family. I can't do this to myself."
            "You may do things differently in Springfield, Marge, but there is one thing we won't stand for in Shelbville. A cocktease."
            "What?"
            "Gentlemen. You have my permission to undress the patient."
            Marge heard the door lock behind her. She looked and saw the maintenance worker pull a key from the door knob and stuff it in his uniform pants pocket.
            "No. Don't do this. I have money., Please, you can't I have a family."
            She felt the maintenance worker, and his strong hands were suddenly beside her body, holding her arms. She watched him stretch them far away from her body as he effortlessly lifted her from the seat.
            "No! Don't! Let go!" she screamed as the other man reached up to take end of her skirt. He began to lift it, and as it drifted up her hips Marge remembered she wasn't wearing any underwear. The higher the crawled the more she screamed and tried to kick. Once above her waist the man grabbed her legs at each knee and with almost no effort pried them far apart.
            The sight of her pussy was enough to put even the doctor into a frenzy. Their eyes lit up with anticipation upon the vision of her oozing pink folds. Marge was not only still moist from the leering men in the waiting room but her own anticipation to be raped right now.
            The man who'd pulled up her skirt was now pulling down his jeans to reveal his thick cock beneath. Marge wasn't sure about the size, only that she doubted she could even fit it inside her if she'd wanted it there. It didn't matter what she wanted anymore though. From the moment she felt the end of his cock brush her pussy lips she screamed like she never had before.
            The sound of her screaming brought the doctor up from behind his desk, he walked across the room to slap her across the face. Then he pulled down the front of her dress and unsheathed her breasts from her brassiere. She was astounded to find her nipples hard again. When his hands went down to manipulate the ample globes of flesh Marge felt the very beginnings of that anxiety lift away and be replaced with an all-encompassing sensation of euphoria.
            Then that feeling was replaced with the sensation of a cock entering her pussy. The feeling of her body opening up and swallowing many more inches than logic permitted her to believe she could take made her feel wanton like her body had been made only for this.
            Then she felt the man behind her and his own cock press against her rectum. She didn't have to feel the beginnings of the pain to know it would be there. She started to scream again, though this time the doctor didn't care. His mouth moved over her left areola and the heat from the inside of his mouth over her nipple instantly made her moist around the first cock. Her scream went on non-sensically long into her rectum actually opening. It wasn't from pain or even fear anymore, only in hopes she could plead to some last shred of sympathy from these men. But there was none left.
            Once a rhythm set in and Marge was bouncing between the three men she began to feel her body actually pulling the cocks inside of her. Her insides seemed to leach the length, gluttoning many more inches than even her imagination could fathom.
            There was one last ounce of guilt and shame to emerge from her just as the first torrent of cum hit her cervix. She screamed long and low, now knowing, at the sound of the door being unlocked that it was not her husband at all, but the rest of the men coming in from the waiting room. Once that shame was gone she found her fists wrapped around two more cocks and then her lips wrapped around a fifth. Marge didn't know why but not only was the anxiety gone now but with her guilt also left behind her and the heat of the cum outside and deep inside her body a feeling of new purpose washed over her. The realization that she'd always been a slut just never known it. She wasn't her husband's wife or her children's mother any more. Only a slut. She could never be happy again unless she was treated like one.
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Doctor's Orders