Jasmines Clinic Weigh In

Jasmine's Clinic Weigh-In. Part 3 of The Demeter Foundation

Jasmine woke early, feeling very refreshed: a long day of cocks, both real and simulated, was as good as a week's vacation in Majorca. She was a bit uneasy from that dream, though. Was it really just the stimulation of the anal expander? She had rarely worn one overnight. Of course she hadn't met the clinic doctor before yesterday... What *was* it that induced a dream of that handsome (medically qualified!) man slipping a gloved, lubricated finger (or two!) into her tight backdoor to examine her girlishly tight rectum?

Speaking of the doctor -- and she now realized she had been musing out loud -- best to remove her adventurous little sex toy before participating in any of the day's activities, which definitely would include an examination of some sort, if that was what the doctor was calling her in for. *Imagine* she laughed to herself, *that poor man having to ask if he could remove a jeweled buttplug from her magisterial arse in order to perform his professional duties!*

So, she rolled over, got on her hands and knees, reaching between her legs, then pausing to stroke her fingers through her tangled pubic bush, because it felt so nice, and to think a little. She'd put it IN this way, but there was no need to take it OUT from this awkward position, was there?

Usually, she didn't need to think about it: her boyfriend enjoyed chores like inserting or removing little play toys, she thought, tapping gently at the pink jewel, feeling the vibration ripple through her anal sphincter to the surrounding arse-cheeks. In actual fact, though, it was more likely her boyfriend would be the one pleasured by a toy like this, not her. Boys were so much more entranced with anal stimulation, whether it was a finger up the arse when she sucked his cock or making love to him with a strapon as part of a hot Domme scene.

She had only got on her hands and knees last night because she was performing for the camera and part of the performance involved opening her backdoor for him. He wasn't watching now. She could just as easily take it out while she showered. More easily, in fact, now that she remembered that chrome and plastic bathing chair provided for guests.

Stretching, she rolled out of bed and stood up. Tensing her thigh muscles, she felt the comforting fullness, the pink jewel between her buttocks and the business end deep inside her. She closed her eyes and sighed, wiggling her hips to make the probe shift about, caressing her rectum one last time, then took a towel and headed into the shower.

The chair, as she remembered, was absolutely perfect. She removed the circular insert from the seat and discovered there was a little hook on the low back of the chair to hang it while it was not in use. Squatting down, she found the smooth plastic to be surprisingly comfortable. It separated her buttocks and opened up her pussylips, leaving her feeling very exposed, but not unpleasantly so. She remembered Ren looking at her when she had lifted her leg to step in to the tub yesterday, giving him a quick, saucy glance at her pussylips. What would he think if he were underneath her now, looking up to see all her charms displayed -- *splayed out!* -- so gloriously?

Experimentally, she flexed her internal muscles. It seemed she needed only a gentle push to expel the intruder. Reaching under, she caught it easily as her sphincter opened, sending a little thrill up her spine as the tight muscle ring stretched and released around the metal flange.

The shower was designed so the spray wand and water faucet were easy to reach from a sitting (Queening?) position, so, without getting up, she soaped and rinsed the stainless-steel cockhead until it gleamed. It wasn't until she turned to put it on the shelf with the shampoo that she realized even without the anal expander she was still being held wide open just by the way she was sitting on the seat.

Reaching under again, this time with the soap and the spray wand, she began to clean herself. Adjusted properly, the water jet was a warm, soft tongue on her clit. Even without the spray, the wand was just the right size to... no, she wasn't going to do that. It was quite sufficient, thank you, that it cleaned all her orifices thoroughly and intimately.

Eventually, she stood up and soaped and rinsed the remaining 95% of her body, hurrying because she wanted to be ready when Ren rang her doorbell to take her to breakfast. Or exercise, maybe? Did they exercise before breakfast here? Or maybe he would offer another massage? No, best to be fully dressed before he arrived. Anyway, she liked to think her body could be sufficiently stimulating even if she weren't laid out naked on a massage table!

She stepped out of the shower without replacing the chair seat, wondering coyly what Ren would think if he saw she'd used it. Perhaps they had other guests who engaged in anal play? Quickly drying off and dressing, she was just tying the laces on her trainers when the bell rang.

She decided the direct approach would be best, barely giving him time to shut the door behind him before she dropped to her knees. He wore sweatpants, so all she had to do was pull at the waistband, taking down the white jockey briefs as well. Then she realized she may have outsmarted herself: he was still quite soft. Was she getting overconfident to think that just the anticipation of walking over to wake her up would be sufficient to arouse a young man? Did Ren imagine that yesterday would be just a one-off?

But... he smelled of soap and fresh clothes, he'd arrived in time for a *very* early start, AND he wasn't protesting as she took his balls into her mouth one by one. "I knew you would appreciate my assets," she said, arching her back and dropping her skirt around her ankles. Yes, the sight of smooth, round buttocks -- the thong between them covered almost nothing -- was more than sufficient to stiffen him up.

Cooing, "Now that's just *perfect!*" she took him in between her lips and down her throat.

"Oh, Ms Jasmine," he moaned, staring at her deliciously full arse-cheeks, "That feels sooooo goooood!" He was halfway to heaven already, but he still had the presence of mind not to say she was beautiful or anything like that. Guests came to the clinic to reduce; they might not appreciate being told their thunder thighs or topheavy breasts were beautiful already. No matter how desperately he wanted to run his fingers and tongue over her *beautiful* bottom.

Jasmine stroked her fingers up the backs of his thighs and took his firm arse-cheeks in hand. It was easy to separate them, despite all the fitness-instructor muscle. Ren wanted the full blowjob experience, she could tell. She knew a man's sensitive backdoor was just a playroom for a woman who could stimulate it properly. Soon she had not one, but two middle fingers probing at the entrance to his male love-tunnel.

He gasped and tightened up momentarily, but she pushed past that. Her head bobbed faster and faster as her fingers began to pull him open...

Drawing back slightly at the last possible moment and wiggling her fingers frantically inside his anus, she caught the first geyser of sperm expertly on her tongue. Jasmine truly enjoyed the taste of hot sperm first thing in the morning, just as she enjoyed the incontinent spasms of his sphincter muscles gripping her middle fingers and his loud screams at the powerful orgasm she forced out of him.

Young and fit, he recovered quickly. "Ms Jasmine," he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "I feel so neglectful. You've treated me so nicely and I... I've... " He struggled for words, "I haven't sexually pleased you at all!"

"Oh, you do talk so clinically here at this clinic!" she giggled as she struggled to her feet, pulling up her skirt as he pulled up his trousers, "We could just say I'm thanking you in advance for another one of those marvelous massages. A man who can use his cock or his tongue is quite common. A man who can give a good massage is something special!" She took his hand, "Now, will you escort me to breakfast -- oh!" She noticed he had dropped a little over-the-shoulder bag in the heat of induced passion. "What have you got here?"

He retrieved the bag and extracted two 1-kilogramme hand weights. "We get started gradually here," he held them out to her, "We'll walk to the dining room by the long way around, to get the blood flowing. If you feel you're up to it, try these and get a little upper-body conditioning at the same time."

Some other guests were also out for an early stroll, or more strenuous exercise: two chubby Oriental women were sweating on a tennis court. Staff were going about various duties, but aside from birds chirping and the thwock-thwock of tennis balls, the morning was marvelously peaceful. Even the lawn mowers were battery powered rather than noisy petrol engines.

Jasmine stopped, still pumping the hand weights up and down, and gave the young man cutting the grass a quick once-over. Was he the one her boyfriend had scoped out yesterday: athletic, sweaty (his shirt clung to his chest, his nipple dark shadows, his buttocks firm in very tight shorts). And young? Youngest man she'd seen. He couldn't be less than eighteen, of course, because there were lawns visible from the clothing optional areas. Her boyfriend was knowledgeable about other boys, especially young ones! Ren noticed she had stopped to look but, ever discreet, said nothing, pretending she was merely catching her breath.

Ren had gauged the walk to the dining room precisely. Jasmine wasn't sore, exactly, but she had a delicious tiredness in her arms and legs by the time they arrived. He took the hand weights from her and led her to a table, then excused himself, explaining that he had other duties just then. He did say he would return in plenty of time to take her to the doctor for her weigh-in and the scheduler who would work out her routines for the first week of her stay.

Most of the women at her table she'd seen yesterday, but there was one she did not recognize. She felt sure she would have, because unlike other guests, she was as trim and well-muscled as the staff she'd seen leading water exercises the day before.

"Oh!" she laughed when someone asked the embarrassing question, "My husband was *so* encouraging when I first came here! I was at the clinic for a month that time, and he tried to visit almost *every day!*" She raised her arms and flexed them, as if to show how fit she'd become. "But guess what happened when the weight came off?"

An Oriental woman wearing a Krizzle Krewe T-shirt from Mardi Gras 2024 gave her guess, "It turned out he was into Big Women?" Her voice was almost as incongruous as her bulky frame: she spoke with an American southern accent, which explained the shirt.

"Exactly!"

All the women around the table -- even Jasmine -- nodded their heads as the Oriental woman continued, "I could have my pick of men to pamper me if I could put up with all the clumsy attentions to my body parts." She ran her hands over her breasts, cupping them, then tweaking her nipples playfully.

"Funny," commented an African woman, with even larger breasts (that she did not fondle), "Men chasing women with Oriental charms are supposed to be fascinated with delicate, demure women. No offence intended!"

"None taken," she jiggled her breasts again and released them, "I had quite a time with a wealthy gentleman who was enthusiastic about big, loud women, whatever their eyes and hair look like!"

"So you see my predicament," the athletic woman said. "I mean, *our* predicament. There was too much temptation to regain my wonderful curves to please him. I still have to make regular visits here to keep in shape."

"You broke up with him," Jasmine asked.

"Oh, goodness, no! He could work his cock and his tongue on a woman of *any* body shape. He loved me; his having a thing for Big Women couldn't change that. We solved the problem by inviting one of our well-endowed friends for a night or weekend now and then, so he can worship at the altar of big breasts and bottoms!"

Jasmine, wondering if her boyfriend was similarly fixated, noticed one of the waiters looking at her from across the room. Curious, she got up and walked over, casually, as if she were looking at a woman on the lawn juggling Indian clubs under the supervision of an athletic trainer.

"Ah, Ms Jasmine," the waiter said confidentially, "I don't want to offend, but I have to tell you that you *must* be more careful than you were at the pool last night!"

"Oh, dear," Jasmine said, "I hope I didn't get the young man in trouble?"

"No, no," the waiter said, smiling, "He's quite happy! You must pursue your activities *indoors,* is all. You were seen!"

"Indoors?"

"If only inside your rooms or some place like the pool cabaña or, good heavens, a broom closet or something like that."

"I see," she winked at him, "And the cabaña has room for several people?"

"Towels and pool maintenance tools and first aid equipment are stored there," he said, puzzled, "But there's room for half a dozen people, I guess. Why?"

"You're welcome to come too," she giggled, "and anyone else, if they don't mind sharing." The boy's eyes goggled. "I do so enjoy a variety of nice hot sausages, *especially* when they're loaded with cream filling. Pass the word!" She walked casually back to her table, wondering how daring the boy and his friends would be, assuming he could round any up. Before resuming her seat, she gave a quick little arse-wiggle, hoping he would notice, but didn't look back to see if he did.

As breakfast was winding up, Ren returned, this time without the hand weights, but still with an interest in walking. "We'll take the long way around to the offices and still be on time for your appointment with the doctor," he said.

"Can we walk through the clothing-optional area?" Jasmine asked, hoping the boy mowing the lawn would be working around there, "I'd like to get a bit of all-over sun if I could."

"Undressing and dressing again just for a ten-minute stroll?" Ren was delighted at the thought of seeing her body again, and the pale bikini-triangle framing her buttocks did need some darkening, but how much sun could she soak up during such a short time?

"Maybe I'll just go topless then." And so she did. The moment they passed the first sign (the stylized big-breasted, big-hipped image of the goddess Demeter wore *no* clothing at all on these particular signs) she pulled up her T-shirt and stripped off her sports bra -- for Ren to carry, of course.

Most of the guests were in or around the pool. The trainer leading a half dozen women in water exercises was a heavily muscled African woman in a tight one-piece Speedo that outlined every curve, from the hard bumps of the nipples on her hemispherical breasts to the two prominent hills of her succulent cameltoe. Her taut body reminded Jasmine of a boxer she'd seen at the Olympics, even to the glossy straightened hair cut in a pageboy.

One intrepid woman, forgoing the buoyancy that was floating six pairs of breasts, had laid out a towel on the grass nearby. She was quite pale, glistening in the morning sunlight with a generous coating of sunblock and sweat. She was performing slow calisthenics. Jasmine and Ren both paused as she stood with feet far apart and bent down, breasts brushing her chin, to touch the ground. They saw her anus winking at them, saw the pink nub of her clit peeking out of her pubic bush.

Jasmine imagined herself in the woman's place. Not *completely* naked, though: she would wear the stainless-steel expander and display it by stretching and bending in all the ways that would spread her arse-cheeks wide open. Of course, her anus wouldn't wink slyly at boys walking by, like Ren, but the flash of the pink jewel glittering in the sun would draw a crowd of admirers.

She didn't know what Ren was thinking, but she guessed he was glad she had taken the time first thing in the morning to drain his balls dry, otherwise his penis might have been embarrassingly erect. Even so, he was tempted to hurry Jasmine along to the doctor's office, restraining himself with some difficulty.

At the doctor's, Jasmine was pleasantly surprised to see the examination table was more of a well-padded bench, not a high table requiring an embarrassing struggle to get up on: a welcome concession to the needs of the clinic guests. Jasmine looked for a privacy screen, expecting to find a gown to change into, but saw neither. "Oh, no," the doctor assured her, "I'm only doing the basic blood-pressure-and-knee-reflex exam. You can take off your shirt and your shoes and socks, but, no -- " he stopped her before she could remover her bra, "Just your shirt, please."

Puzzled, because her breasts were definitely her best feature, not her feet, she complied. The doctor proceeded professionally, looking into ears and eyes, stethoscoping back and front, thumping and listening to her lungs, taking her blood pressure, etc, etc, etc. Then, after tapping her kneecaps with his little hammer (he *did* notice that her knees had seen some wear and tear recently, but considered that a very positive sign, an indicator her activity level was increasing), he moved down lower.

"Your feet," he said, gently manipulating her right foot, judging the suppleness of the skin, stretching out the muscles, separating the toes, "They can take such a pounding from ordinary everyday activities." He was careful not to mention the reason: supporting all her extra poundage. "It's important to monitor them." He moved to her left foot. "Take care before starting any exercise regimen."

His hands felt quite pleasant actually, almost as if he were massaging, just like Ren had. Jasmine felt a thrill as she had when he touched her chest, his fingers moving the stethoscope about, so close to her breasts. Now, though, the sensation was deeper, a tingling in her skin, and feeling even stronger where she was most sensitive, her clit, her nipples, her anus -- but, no, he wouldn't be examining her there, would he?

Remembering Ren's hands on her feet led her to remembering Ren's cock in her mouth. Would the doctor's cock taste as good as Ren's too? "That feels so *good!*" she gushed, when he had finished, "I just *adore* it when a man massages my feet!" She slipped off the examination table and got to her knees, "So many men don't understand what makes a girl feel good." She reached for the doctor's zipper, reassured to find a stiffy in his trousers, "I want to do something nice for you in return, if we have the time."

"Ms Jasmine," the doctor said kindly, stopping her hands, "I know this environment can seem strange to you -- "

Disconcerted by his refusal, she pouted, "You don't want me to?" Maybe it was the wedding ring he wore? No, she'd never been refused before, at least not for that reason.

"Ms Jasmine, I think you are an eminently desirable, sexual woman. Remember, I know, I've just examined your body!" If there was any doubt that he believed this, his erection -- which he seemed entirely comfortable and unembarrassed about -- demonstrated that he spoke sincerely. "As a physician, I must remain totally objective. I hope you understand." He patted her on the shoulder in a way that was not at all sexual, "Now put on your shoes and we'll proceed to the weigh-in." Even that consoling, friendly touch sent a thrill up her thighs to her gently pulsing vaj!

"Won't wearing the clothes make the weighing inaccurate?" She'd also had a meal not long before. Would that extra weight be a problem too?

He raised an eyebrow, "You would like to undress?"

"I -- I -- I --" The direct question startled her.

"Of course, of course!" He sounded so magnanimous, "We are not in a hurry."

She perked up: he did want to see her naked! The brassière came off more quickly than it had in the clothing optional area and her skirt dropped faster than it had when she had knelt in front of Ren for that first (and possibly last, if the doctor's refusal was starting a trend) blowjob of the day.