Doctor's Orders [Anon POV, human+anthro, femfats, explicit]

	"Now, if you could fill these out so we can store your recent medical history in our records..." The stout raccoon behind the counter briefly turns from her computer monitor to slide you a wooden clipboard. Under its metal retainer are some loose papers, none of which look particularly exciting to you. "Please bring these back to me after you've completed them in their entirety," the receptionist drones, tapping the surface of the clipboard with the filed nail of her index finger.

	The sharp clacking makes you wince, as it breaks up the otherwise peaceful ambiance of the waiting room. You really, really wish you were someplace else right now, but you know it would be short-sighted to skip out on a general checkup, especially with a new provider. Reluctantly, you pick up the clipboard, holding it mid-air as you eyeball the small print of the forms. Upon inspecting the top sheet, it seems to be just the usual--name, address, date of birth, the whole slew of biographical information. You're not very happy with the prospect of dealing with paperwork, but you resign yourself to this necessary evil with a sigh.

	You begin to walk over to your chair off in the far corner, painfully aware that a lot of writing lies ahead of you. After a few steps, though, it dawns on you that you have nothing with which to write. Swiveling your head, you ask if you could please get a pen so that--

	"Take one from the mug on the counter, sir," the receptionist nonchalantly interjects, adjusting her glasses ever so slightly as she speaks. You raise an eyebrow, somewhat taken aback by her resounding apathy, but you quickly make your way over to grab what you need.

	After finally plopping yourself back down in your seat, you slouch forward enough to prop up your feet on the nearby coffee table. You remark to yourself that the receptionist doesn't seem all too friendly; you hope that this won't set the tone for the appointment itself. Firmly gripping your newfound pen, you blaze through the first few pages of the questionnaire, trusting that your diligence will allow you to escape from this state of boredom a bit faster.

	You're not entirely sure when you started, but you feel pretty good about the time you've made when you finally reach the last paper of the pile. Before you take a crack at it, though, you give yourself a breather; you use this opportunity to wipe off your sweaty palms against the sides of your pants. As you passively listen to the light jazz music coming from overhead, you contemplate whether you've ever had to provide so much personal information in one sitting before. You idly glance around the room to help de-clutter your mind, but there's nothing that holds your interest...aside from the rather prominent physique of the receptionist.

	Curiously, you look at her up and down from a distance; even from afar, it's apparent that a sedentary desk job has done her no favors. Her turtleneck sweater seems to be well beyond its capacity, as a substantial portion of her gut is jutting out from underneath the hem. In addition, her pants are unbuttoned, and the fly is partially undone to entirely accommodate her heft. Strangely, there is something alluring about her that you can't quite put your finger on, although you're pretty certain it's not her personality. Your attention circles back to her midriff; you reckon it'd be pretty nice to sink your fingers into that vast expanse of a belly and give it a squeeze if the opportunity were to present itself...

	"Sir? Have you finished your forms?" Unfortunately, you've been jolted awake from your reverie by a familiar monotone voice. You notice that the raccoon is looking squarely at you with a similar level of scrutiny as you with her. However, the furrowing of her brow hints that she's not quite as enthused. Her tail is flittering about behind her, betraying her calm demeanor. Stammering, you assure her that you have one page to go and that you'll be done soon.

	"If you say so..." The receptionist shakes her head almost imperceptibly, and a cacophony of clicking starts up from her mechanical keyboard. She mutters something under her breath that you can't make out, but it's probably nothing you would have wanted to hear anyway.

	You take a moment to compose yourself, massaging your temples to chase out any impure thoughts that you may have had in passing. It's not quite like yourself to get carried away like that, but there's still a part of you that fervently wants to indulge in your corporeal desires, and then some. As your hand falls to rest against your side, it grazes the clipboard, reminding you that you do in fact have one more page to go. With a renewed sense of vigor, you seize your pen and return to where you left off, scribbling in answers at a breakneck pace. Once you're certain you've finished, you stride over to the counter to return the clipboard with a clatter.

	Coolly, the receptionist thumbs through the papers, peering at some of your responses while never actually looking up at you. Her silence leaves you unnerved, but you stay quiet, lest you bother her any further with your presence. After what feels like an eternity, she motions toward the end of the hallway that runs adjacent to the waiting room. "Go that way and take the last door on the left. The doctor will be with you shortly; she had to take a phone call."

	You shift your vision toward the general direction of her gesturing; thankful to have an out from this awkward exchange, you hurry your way down the corridor. As you move, you're still struggling to shake off the onset embarrassment of having been caught in the midst of ogling somebody in public, but you cope by figuring that you've had worse days.

	After a few more steps, you stand just outside your intended destination. As you take in the sight, you can't get rid of the feeling that there's something a little odd going on here. Is it...the paint color of the walls? No, that looks like a pretty normal shade of gray, even if you think it clashes a bit with the tiled floor below. ...the floor! ...wait, no, it's not that either. It could use a good sweeping if a janitor were to come around though. Maybe it's the doorframe; it seems a hair taller than you would expect for a doctor's room...and wider, to boot...no, you're probably just hallucinating. You shake your head, wondering why you're trying to invent reasons to feel uncomfortable when you don't have to do so. Delaying no more, you tug at the metal handle in front of you to open the fateful door, and you let yourself slip inside.

	To your disappointment, nothing seems all that peculiar in this new setting. The only thing that stands out is that the room looks like it's been recently renovated. The walls in here have a fresh coat of blue paint, and the floor has a brilliant sheen. It feels much more spacious than in the waiting room, too. Upon further surveying your surroundings, you see all the standard utilities that you would expect in a doctor's room--a sink and faucet, boxes of sterile latex gloves, a blood pressure monitor, and even a old-fashioned weight scale. Casting aside any remaining trepidation, you hoist yourself up onto the exam table, and you scoot yourself over so that your legs dangle off the edge.

	You take solace in that the room looks to be in good order. Still, you wonder when the doctor will make her grand entrance; seeing as you don't know what she looks like, your imagination begins to go wild. As you brainstorm, you start to pat your thighs with your palms to help with passing the time. As a whole, you're much more relaxed in here than you were in the waiting room; it's only the anticipation of meeting the doctor that gives you any uneasiness. You concede that you made a pretty bad impression of yourself with the receptionist, and you'd like to avoid creating a sequel if at all possible.

	As if right on cue, you see the door handle begin to jiggle. As the door swings wide open, you tense up, unknowing of what to expect...but nobody walks in. You wait a few more seconds--still nothing. You can't help but feel this is a bit anticlimactic; perhaps, it's some form of elaborate dramatic effect. Without further ado, a broad bump as white as snow presents itself past the frame of the entrance, and just like that, it's followed up by a behemoth of a female who appears to be its proud owner.

	"You'll have to excuse me for my tardiness," she exclaims with a booming yet cheery voice, shutting the door gently behind her. "I was stuck in a conversation that I tried to wrap up, but the person on the other end of the line kept trying to make it longer, and..."

	You slowly tune her out for the time being; the sight before you is something that requires your full attention to take in and process. Her nose, fur, and paws clearly indicate her species, but you never thought a walking, talking polar bear could have a body like...like this. Aside from the fact she's absolutely towering over you, it's difficult to describe her overall shape; all you know is that there's a gratuitous amount of fat in her midsection relative to her other proportions. You have a strong inclination to believe that she's defying the laws of gravity by being able to maneuver around with a belly as ample as hers, but there's something awfully tantalizing about it that lets this seeming anomaly slide.

	If there's one thing that's for certain, it's that the polar bear's brazenness makes the receptionist look like a saint. While a small subsection of exposed paunch seemed overly revealing before, you can tell that this "doctor" has no concept of decency whatsoever. From what you're able to discern, she's wearing a lab coat, which has already been tattered to shreds under the duress of so much weight. You don't think it's doing its job of covering up her body effectively, if at all. And to top it all off, she's not wearing any pants either, exposing an impressive pair of thunder thighs, or at least as much as you can see of them from your current angle. Somehow, this tidbit isn't much of a revelation to you, though; not even the most skilled seamstress in the world could hope to craft leggings that would fit her dimensions.

	  You pick up again on the ongoing monologue in the middle of a sentence just in time to hear the words, "...so let's begin, shall we?" Unaware of what's meant to "begin", you feel anxious, but you'd rather not face the consequences of admitting to missing nearly everything she's said from the get-go. She clumsily whips out a stethoscope that had been partially obscured within the confines of her neck. After fiddling around and finally managing to put in the eartips, she gradually leans in toward you.

	However, it's not the device that reaches you first, but instead her belly, which presses up tight against you and nearly envelops the whole of your body. The warmth is extremely soothing; you imagine right then and there you could cozy up and use the polar bear as a nice, comfy bed. Your hands involuntarily run rampant across this unfamiliar territory; you revel in how it's remarkably malleable to the touch.

	Alas, you're only able to enjoy this sensation for a few seconds more before the doctor pulls away abruptly. Without your makeshift support in place, you frantically swipe at thin air before falling rather unceremoniously off the ledge of the table to the ground. Sprawled out on the cold floor with your head near her feet, you get the equivalent of a panoramic view of the underside of her gut...and all else in the general vicinity. So as to not overstay your welcome, you make a concerted effort to collect yourself.

	 In spite of this, she waves her paw energetically to dismiss even the notion of you getting up. "Oh, you can just stay right there! It'll be easier for me to work this thing that way," she assures you, her body wobbling to and fro in synchronization with the emphasis of her every few words. She shuffles her way towards you, although her movement is somewhat labored. Once she deems she's close enough, she slowly descends so as to sit down and lean back against the counter. You become extremely captivated by the uneven undulations of her torso as she readjusts herself, eventually making it so that her stomach is resting at ease entirely upon the floor.

	She heaves a sigh of relief, no longer responsible for toting her girth around. You suppose even a gargantuan being needs her rest from time to time. With an outstretched arm, she pulls you closer to her and ensnares you firmly under her limb. "Aw, come 'ere! You don't wanna be rude, do you?" she coos, tapping you on the nose with a velvety finger. As you're now within her reach, she's finally able to work the stethoscope on you, although you strongly doubt she really understands what she's doing.  She listens intently as she presses the chestpiece against your torso, but essentially on the opposite side of your heart. As you observe her "technique", you glance at her face to find out that for some reason, her chipper countenance has faded away. Mortified, you stay perfectly motionless; she then steadily retracts the stethoscope from your person.

	"If I'm not mistaken," she deadpans, twiddling the chestpiece with her bulky fingers, "your heart rate is well beyond the normal range that would be expected for an average adult male at rest." There's an unmistakable gleam in her eyes, which seems like equal parts amusement and...and... "I do believe I'll need to conduct an array of tests in order to make a proper...'diagnosis'." Lust. Definitely and unequivocally, it's lust, and her lips curl into a knowing smile as if to confirm your conclusion.

	"To ensure that I am nothing less than thorough, you will need to disrobe yourself. Immediately." The polar bear smirks at you, wiggling the fingers of her free hand in anticipation. Before you can even blink, you find your shirt ripped off and thrown halfway across the room. Your chest bare, you shiver slightly, only now detecting that the air conditioning is at a higher setting than would be normally expected. Suddenly, you're thankful that the temperature only gives you goosebumps instead of frostbite.

	With considerably more nimbleness than she demonstrated earlier, she pries off your shoes and socks and tosses them aside, leaving you with only your pants and underwear as your last line of defense. She eagerly turns to face you; seeing that you're not quite on the same page as her, she becomes clearly dejected.

	"You seem nervous, and you shouldn't be." She spreads her arms wide, letting the remains of her coat slip to the floor to fully expose her breasts.  "Look, I'm just a big ol' softie! I don't wanna hurt you!" You say nothing, and she shakes her head at your hesitation to play along. "I'm here to treat my patients with tender love and care, and I would hate to see even one of them walk away unsatisfied," she says with heartfelt honesty.

	Feeling guilty, you break your silence. You tell her you're sorry, and you're more than happy to acquiesce her requests as long as...

	"Great, let's continue onward then!" The doctor, having perked up once more, swiftly sneaks a paw underneath the waist of your pants. You're a bit worried that she may have selective hearing, but you don't resist; instead, you marvel at her dexterity. For a big gal, she really knows how to get around, and in a multitude of ways. She rests the pad of her paw directly on top of your crotch, the two only separated by the thin barrier of your underwear; it's like she's performing a "reading" of some sort.

	"Well, your libido is certainly healthy!" she announces merrily. Your face runs a deep shade of red; you don't think you can restrain yourself much longer if things continue to pick up at this rate.  Trying to abide by her original instruction, you reach toward your pants to dutifully remove them, but the polar bear wags a sole finger. "You don't need to move a muscle! I'm an experienced professional!" she declares. True to her word, she deftly relieves you of your remaining garments, rendering your manhood exposed in plain sight. Your mind races with a million possible outcomes of this situation, but you're unable to fathom if any of them is the correct one.

	With an undeniably smug air about her, she reaches backward to grab something on the counter. "Now, you may feel a bit of a...tingling sensation, so to speak, in your groin during this procedure..." She lowers her voice until it's almost impossible to pick up. "...but I promise that's a good thing."

	Having retrieved her prize, she lowers her arm back down to reveal a small, clear bottle in her grip. There's no label on it, giving you little indication as to what contents lie inside. She snaps back the top of the cap and tilts the bottle upside-down, but she pauses. "Ah, yes. Safety first, I suppose," she laughs, making a second foray of her supplies that results in the procurement of a latex glove. With a loud smack, the glove fits perfectly onto her dominant hand. Although you don't quite yet know her motives, you appreciate that she's considerate enough to keep you out of harm's way.

	Returning to her previous objective, she squeezes out a considerable volume of a gel-like substance from the bottle with an audible splurt, letting it drop onto her gloved paw. Carefully, she uses her thumb to rub it around to coat her entire palm. She flexes her hand, making the glove squeak; satisfied with herself, she focuses her attention on you once more, wearing a dirty grin.

	With haste, she reaches over toward your crotch, and it takes every fiber in your body not to squirm as she delicately grips the base of your dick. You can feel two distinct sensations--one from the striking coolness of the lubricant, and the other from the considerable pressure applied by her paw. She slowly works her way up your shaft, careful to ensure that there's an equal application of the gel all the way up to your head. Once at the top, she slides her way back from which she came, and you start to twitch from the stimulation.

	Finally finished, the bear releases you from her clutch, and you let out a loud gasp. You're certain you were about to go over the edge just now, and you wouldn't hear the end of it if that were to happen. She takes a moment to admire her handiwork before tossing away her glove behind her. "You know, I think I like you," she murmurs, taking a finger to your chest and sliding it ever so slowly down your naked torso. "The type who plays hard to get? I don't mind." She stops tracing along your body right as she reaches the bottom of your throbbing erection.  "That only makes the spoils even sweeter in the end when I get you to crack."

	The polar bear grips you by the arm, and with what seems to be minimal effort, she plucks you back up right to your bare feet. You initially struggle to gain traction with the slippery floor, but you manage to regain your balance.  "You know, when it comes to my physical assets, nearly everyone is most interested in my bust, or my rear, or whatever--all typical, trite, and frankly, boring," she whines, fully emphasizing the last word of her sentence, and she wets her lips to continue speaking. "And yet I don't think I've ever come across someone with as much fascination as you about...shall I say, my most PROMINENT one."

	She rests her hands along the contour of her stomach and starts to massage herself to relax. Her emotions seem to be out on full display, but she hardly looks upset to you. "I've always considered it to be an endearing feature of mine, but I was starting to wonder if I'd ever cross paths with someone who felt the same!" As she voices what's on her mind, you find yourself shimmying around the side of her body, zoning in on your target. She gradually stops fondling herself as she witnesses you moving about.

	"Well, what's this? Have you decided to lighten up a little and--" The bear is cut short in her inquiry as you expertly work your fingers against the mountain of pudge before you. She immediately loosens up, and unexpectedly, she lets out a low moan before covering her mouth with her paws out of sheer embarrassment, her eyes widening. You press and squeeze in a cadenced fashion across the entirety of your reach, almost as if you're playing a grand organ. Your heart beating out of your chest, you watch with great intrigue as she bites her knuckles to keep herself from making any more noise. Motivated to go even further, you increase the intensity of your rubbing and kneading, and her knees buckle reflexively.

	"W-wait! Please! I...I.." she begs, her face dotted with sweat, and on her command, you stop. She's panting heavily and lasciviously, and you think you can even see a bit of drool glistening at the corner of her lips. "I think we can make this pleasurable...for the both of us," she blurts out, having a hard time regaining her composure. You stare at her inquisitively, her meaning ambiguous to you.

	"You see, we...have a mutual interest in mind here, right?" You nod. "Now, you may or may not believe me, but I think I have compelling evidence that YOUR interest goes beyond being a world-class masseuse," she states flatly, weakly pointing at you to look down. As plain as day, you can see dribbles of pre along where you've unknowingly pressed up against her pillowy body, and you force a sheepish grin in a hope to save face.

	 "Oh, don't act so coy," she chides, her dominant side coming to life again. Acutely aware of your physical self, you hunch over slightly, letting your groin become reacquainted with the smooth, squishy front of her belly. The lubricant is still as good as ever, and you have no trouble guiding yourself upward in what amounts to a drawn-out thrust. You study the doctor, and you observe that her respiration is picking up speed.

	You grasp for a couple fistfuls of yielding fat to keep yourself in place, causing her to let out a yelp that's a mixture of both surprise and arousal. You've pretty much set the stage as carefully as you can, but you can feel your already weakened restraint crumble away in favor of the much more powerful, carnal instincts that begin to dominate your disposition.

	Although you're hardly graceful about it, you start grinding back and forth against her gut with gusto, immediately causing it to tremor and lurch. You're in awe of how receptive the quivering flesh right in front of you is, and seeing as you're running on pure adrenaline, you intend to make full use of it. You clench your teeth as you mold and prod her eager belly with your dick, your movement fully uninhibited. At times, you slide around a bit due to your clumsiness and the increasing slickness, but you have no problem forging a sticky path wherever you happen to go. As you continue, you swear you can hear the bear absentmindedly uttering "oh, FUCK" under her breath, but your perception is fully controlled by the omnipotent clutches of lust.

	Rolls of fat ebb and flow in tune with the angle of your humping, and you can feel them cradle your dick tightly as you press even deeper and with greater vigor. It catches your attention as she balls up her trembling hands into fists, and she's even curling her toes to an extent in a complementary fashion. Reading her outward display of ecstasy as you work away, you feel as though it's your duty to get both of you to the finish line.

	As desperate as you are to pick up steam, though, you've simply been pent up for far too long since you got here to have any serious endurance. You make a few more passionate lunges, waiting only briefly in between each of them. With the very last one, you push with absolutely all your weight behind it, unloading several, thick strings of cum into one of the many folds of her welcoming gut. You can feel the bear shudder in tandem, rocking you as you're still pressed up against her, but you can't quite tell if she's climaxed or just feeling the effects of sheer euphoria.

	Unable to stop your whole body from trembling, you take a tentative step backward, producing a hanging string of goo connecting you to her. You unsteadily wipe off your forehead with the side of your arm, half-anticipating that you're about to crash back down to earth and wonder what the hell's gotten into you. However, as you sway a bit to the side to look around, you're surprised--although hardly disappointed--to find that you're still as definitively hard and horny as before, perhaps even more so. Out of the corner of your eye, you distinguish the slightest smirk on the bear's face. She certainly knows what's happening; you have an inkling that there was something more to the gel than just its gliding capacity.

	Weakly patting her belly, she croons, "I'm going to...nghh...have to take an official s-sample...to check for your virility." With her remaining strength in reserve, she tugs the sides of her gut a bit more outward to more clearly illustrate what she has in mind. Your eyes wide, you can only muster a dry swallow.

	On full display is her widened, immeasurably deep navel, and your heart skips a beat upon finally comprehending the bear's meaning. "Come on in...it's nice and warm," she starts to slur, beckoning ever so slowly with the tips of her paws. You inch forward again, gripping your shaft so as to better manage its motion, and probe the enticing orifice with your head. "A-ah!" she cries, biting her lower lip. "D-don't stop there!" she rasps, growing hoarse from her continued use of speech.  You realize that you were unwittingly teasing her, and your sole focus shifts to correcting for your mistake as dutifully as possible. You exhale, priming yourself; without any further hesitation, you take the plunge inside.

	An immense thrill grabs hold of you as you fully accommodate yourself inside her belly button, and you're hunched over entirely on top of her gut to compensate for your full-bodied shaking. In your excursion, you find that your dick feels entirely snug, the navel conforming itself around your girth with a loving embrace.  There's enough moisture along the inner walls that makes you no worse for wear without the lubricant smeared all over a few inches away, and there's a light amount of suction that keeps you steady without having to stabilize yourself with anything in particular. Your skin bristles as the bear's eyes squeeze shut, her tongue hanging languidly; the sight makes you feel all the more invigorated and confident in your abilities.

	You start slow, easing yourself into a rhythm to get more acclimated with your position. You're burning up all over, and so is she; as she groans and you moan without any shame or remorse, you can feel the two of you becoming something intertwined. Riding this wave of raw emotion, you hasten your thrusts, plowing into the navel as far as your length can take you. You're compelled to swab over every inch of space with your tip, and as far as you're concerned, you're experiencing nirvana in its most unadulterated form.

	Your sheer force is enough to begin lifting the belly off the ground at every apex of your arc, and it plops back to the floor with an audible smack each time you pull away. Hearing the slapping sounds send you into a frenzy, causing you to push the physical boundaries of your strength and resilience to the hilt. You burrow yourself even deeper than you thought you could go, pushing yourself further into her belly as it shapes itself all around your hypersensitive body in response. The bear bellows, strands of saliva bridging the gap between her two rows of teeth, and you can feel her muscles stiffen, tightening her navel around your dick with even greater pressure.

	Your nostrils flaring, you grow all the more inclined to push her buttons...all of them, and at once. In perfect harmony with your movement of your pelvis, you grope and feel your way all over the top of her belly, leaving drips of perspiration from your hands in the rapidly increasing number of indentations you make. And with an unbridled amount of energy, the bear unleashes a prolonged roar, as primal a reaction as they come; you indulge her scattered senses by sinking your fingers into as much ground as you can cover.

	The line between reality and desire has blurred far too long ago, but there's not one iota of your being that wants to go back now. You've stopped thinking and have focused solely on doing, and there's one last act that must be performed before reaching the denouement. Summoning whatever stamina you can find, you fuck the gut like there's no tomorrow, like your life depends on it, and there's nothing that can hold you back. The wobbling bear arches her spine in rapture, kicking out her legs, and she unmistakably tenses up to her fullest extent.

	In an instant, she starts spasming, and it's powerful enough for her whole body to quake and quaver with reckless abandon. Her deafening moans reverberate throughout the room, and you do everything you can to hold on tight. Still inside of her, you wrap your arms around the circumference of her silken belly to take a few more fervent strokes, letting yourself dip and bend with at least some amount of control, and these last few desperate heaves are what grants you your release. You shudder all over as you climax inside her navel, bucking your hips with every single spurt and fully coating the interior. You double over, trying to catch your breath, and although you'd like to stand, you find yourself nuzzling up into the bear's abdomen, giving your body the overdue break it needs to recuperate.

	For the first time, the room lies silent. The only perceivable motion is that of the rise and fall of her belly, which is starting to lull you to sleep. You tilt your head slightly upward to get one last look at the bear. Her face, closed eyes and all, can only be described as serene, content, at peace...

	As you slip away, you feebly try to mouth something to her. But, there are no words that come to pass, and you drift off into the land from which you're certain you've just come.

---

	"Please call the office when you're ready to make your next appointment," the receptionist says to you, as emotionless as ever. You simply nod, not looking to hold any conversation of great length with her. You walk over to the exit, sporting an expression that would rival the raccoon in her stoicism.

	As you finally make your way out of her sight, you start to experience a noticeable spring in your step. Knowing that it's definitely not the receptionist making you feel this way, you wonder if this is something of a vestige, a parting gift, to help you remember your experience. You shake your head, thinking yourself to be a bit foolish, but you don't mind. Whatever it may be, it will just have to do in tiding you over until you have the chance to meet with her once again.