The Futanari Sexual Health Clinic. One of the first doctor's office and health centers dedicated entirely to the health and well-being of that rare gender minority. It was the brainchild of one Dr. Robin Maddick, herself a futa who was unsatisfied with the ignorance she faced in her life from unfamiliar medical professionals. Most people dislike the dentist more than the doctor... but not Robin. At least they knew what to do with her teeth. Every doctor she'd had looked at her like a puzzle put together wrong, like a lizard with an inexplicable raccoon's tail. None of them seemed to appreciate the beauty she saw in her fellow futa... and in herself.
It was perhaps this distaste that put Robin well out of character for most in her profession. Robin always preferred being called by her first name and hated the formality of being called 'doctor.' Everyone who wielded that title had treated her with contempt or morbid curiosity. She did not wish to be part of them.
That experience brought her to create the Futanari Sexual Health Clinic, a place where nobody would be surprised at what they had, and they knew just how to treat them. Started from humble beginnings but now taking up a moderately sized building on the periphery of the city... rumors sometimes swirled that the clinic was nothing but a canard for futanari to meet up and fuck each other. As if lovely women with giant penises needed the excuse to visit a special place to do that.
Sure, the Futanari Sexual Health Clinic didn't have certain specialty equipment that a fully equipped hospital might have access to, like a surgical robot or an X-ray machine or an autoclave or a wheelchair-accessible ramp or a listing in the Yellow Pages. But their online ratings were invariably five stars. What other hospital or walk-in clinic could make that claim? AND they had a Surge vending machine! No hospital in the world still had one of those.
Beata had worked at the clinic since she was about nineteen years old, back when it was just her and Robin. Over the years, the facility had grown into a larger building in a better part of town, and the staff had expanded into... three.
As it was, Robin was called out to a convention in Las Vegas. This was the first time Robin had taken any significant time away from the clinic in years. She rarely took a single day off. Even on Christmas, she considered herself on-call, posting a sign with her phone number on it, for any futanari having an emergency.
Robin's absence this was the chance for Beata to finally step into a leadership role.
Today, she left behind her white miniskirt, light-colored stockings and nurse's hat, and put on the white coat with the sexy lace camisole under it, miniskirt and dark-colored stockings. Her long red hair was put up into a sloppy beehive, reminiscent of the bun that Robin kept her hair in until she could dramatically remove her hairband or lacquered chopstick. It was a move that never failed to turn Beata's gears.
Beata even found a pair of glasses in Robin's desk and put them on. They didn't appear to be her normal pair, with the thick black plastic rims. These were thin lightweight metal, the lenses for a fairly mild prescription or possibly astigmatism. Maybe a client had left them here. Beata certainly didn't think Robin would go anywhere without these if they were important.
Beata eyed herself up in the full-length mirror. She was no longer Nurse Beata. Today, she was Doctor Wyrhta. But nobody could ever pronounce her surname anyway, so she'd follow Robin's example and go by Doctor Beata.
Jackie, today's lead nurse and dressed in the way Beata normally did, was by her side. She was beaming with pride at the promotion, even if it was temporary.
"You look great." Jackie said, kissing her on the cheek.
"I was going to wear Robin's coat, but I don't fill it out quite as well as she does." She turned in place to look at her profile. "I felt like a kid wearing mommy's coat."
"Anything would look good on you. You're so skinny."
"You should have seen me when Robin and I met. I was a poor college sophomore with self-esteem issues at 105 pounds."
"And look how far you've come..." Jackie smiled. "Now you're 110 pounds AND the doctor."
"And I didn't even have to finish school."
They both looked into the reflection for another moment.
"You ready to start the day?" Jackie asked.
"Only one thing left to do."
Beata did what she would have done anyway if Robin was there. She started a pot of coffee. She heard the coffee maker ding at the same time as a familiar sound:
The sound of a carbonated beverage can opening.
Beata turned to Jackie... who was drinking a can of Surge.
"You drink those?" Beata asked diplomatically.
She took a small sip. "Only when I'm in here this early."
"It's only nine o'clock."
"I just don't like any hot drinks. Coffee, tea... soup. Not unless I have a cold."
Beata's new responsibility as a theoretically licensed medial professional was already gnawing at her. Soda was already a dubiously healthy choice for a morning beverage, but... she should definitely not encourage her to drink from that old machine. She was amazed it was even keeping the cans cold.
Jackie was evidently unbothered by this notion. She tipped her head back as she chugged the entire contents of the can. With each loud gulp, her skirt started to rise as if the can was directly filling something beneath her legs. Her cock was barely being held back by her skirt, the very edge of the hem barely hanging onto the tip. She turned the can upside down and dribbled the last few drops on her tongue... and her cock finally freed itself from her skirt, slapping against her abs.
Beata clenched her jaw a bit and released it. Beata discreetly adjusted herself inside her skirt. How did Robin have the discipline to not be constantly hard all day? Maybe it was one of those secrets she still held after all these years working together.
"You ready?" Jackie smiled.
"Let's do this."
Jackie unlocked the doors just as the big analog clock in the lobby rolled over to nine o'clock... just in time for the doors to sit entirely untouched for a long interval.
--
The first few operating hours of the Futanari Sexual Health Clinic absolutely crawled by. There were no visitors, no new patients or returning clients. Not a single person came in. Even the postman just dropped the mail in the external mailbox as he normally did. He was the only person Beata saw in the first two hours other than Jackie.
Beata sat there, occasionally browsing the many social media websites that had fed endless looping short-form videos, the way every ballpark starting selling popcorn once it entered the American consciousness. The clinic didn't really have a social media presence, its popularity seeming to spread entirely by word-of-mouth.
She'd love to talk to Jackie... but what would someone think if they entered a doctor's office and the staff was hanging out in the lobby, talking like bored teenagers working the counter at a gas station? She was in the back, surely re-counting stock or busying herself in some other way. A little while ago, Jackie had sent Beata a naughty selfie with both her tongue and her hard cock sticking out. That was the most excitement she'd had for a bit.
Beata didn't tell Jackie that she'd saved every single dirty selfie she'd ever sent her. Her phone had a folder with an inconspicuous name and gallery image that also contained hundreds of naughty selfies of Jackie in her nurse's uniform... or out of it, as the case may be. Adding to it never failed to make Beata's heart swell... and help pass the time with a little more sunshine.
The electronic bell over the door rang. Beata nearly threw her phone down and looked up to the door. A patient had finally come on. She was a woman of average height and build, with blonde hair accented with auburn streaks. She had nice plump lips curled down into a faint frown. She had a white tank top with no bra underneath, a long patterned skirt and white-on-black Vans.
"Welcome to the Futanari Sexual Health Clinic." Beata said proudly tipping her glasses back up her nose. "What can we do for you?"
