Miffy Goes to the Vet - Ch. 3

Chapter 3 - Crise Magnétique

Miffy was still on her hands and knees, but she had lowered cautiously back on her haunches. She stared fixedly at the thermometer. "D-doctor? Please tell me, um, you're not planning to take my temperature... you know... that way?"

"That way?" Clara repeated sweetly. "Do you mean, am I going to stick this in your bottom?"

The petite girl nodded meekly.

Clara stepped closer. "Yes, Miffy. I'm afraid so."

"But... I'm a... human! I can hold it under my tongue. I promise!"

"I'm sure you could. But I require the most accurate results if I'm going to diagnose your condition, wouldn't you say? And the most accurate method by far, is to take your temperature rectally." Clara picked up a squeeze bottle of ethanol and squirted it over the thermometer tip, sterilizing it. Evaporative cooling rapidly made the mercury retreat down the glass, almost like it was shrinking. Clara always found that satisfying to watch. "It's going to be cold at first. Don't worry. You'll warm it up for me, won't you?"

The shrunken woman looked up at her pleadingly, her bottom lip curling in a pout.

"It'll be okay," Clara said, in her most soothing voice. She retrieved another item from the top shelf -- a metallic plastic tube, with a precision applicator tip. "This is medical-grade silicone lubricant. It's far higher quality than what you'd see in your neighborhood sex shop. It'll make things much easier."

Miffy considered this. The girl chewed on her cheek, and stared up at Clara with soft, doe-like eyes.

"You're being bad," Miss Montblanc growled. "You've already earned yourself a demerit by not simply following orders. Now if you don't stick out your little butt and let the good doctor take your temperature this very instant, you'll learn just what happens when you truly displease me."

Miffy flinched at the harsh words. She started to obey, fought with herself, and suddenly broke. The tiny girl dropped her head like a frightened pony, and began to scoot away on the table. The half-sized girl pressed her little bubble butt against the wall, making it as difficult as possible for Clara to access. It was adorable, and would've been hilarious in another context, but Clara didn't laugh. She had seen this reaction before from all sorts of animals. But when a human animal responded this way, it required special consideration. Clara had a guess, but before she took things further she needed to be sure.

She advanced on the tiny girl slowly. Miffy continued to scrabble away on all fours, her butt plushing prettily against the wall as she failed to escape. Clara made herself as non-threatening as possible, and put the thermometer and bottle of lube out of sight behind her back. She leaned far, far down, until they were face to face with her lips an inch from Miffy's. They were so close she could smell the baby shampoo used in her bath that morning, and the faint mint of her toothpaste.

"Miffy?" Clara said the woman's name as low and intimate as possible, and pitched it so no one else in the room could hear.

At once the tiny woman stopped struggling. She slowly raised her eyes. "Doctor Clara?"

"You don't have to do this if you don't want."

Miffy's breath was warm on her cheek. It came out in a staccato tremble. She said nothing.

"Are you afraid it's going to hurt?" Clara whispered. "Is the thermometer too big for you, now that you've shrunk?"

Miffy looked helplessly into Clara's eyes. Slowly, she shook her head.

Clara smiled. "I didn't think so. You've had someone play with your ass before. And you've taken things much bigger than this."

The girl's pinchable little cheeks blushed a brilliant pink. "How did you know?"

Clara decided not to elaborate on the half-dozen physiological signs she'd clocked. When you knew where to look, it was easy to tell when a client was legitimately scared, and when they were just having a feeling. "And did you like it?" Clara asked, already knowing the answer. "Having your ass played with, I mean?"

The girl nodded -- hard.

"But you're conflicted right now. You want it, and you don't want it. Why?"

"What are you telling my pet?" Miss Montblanc called testily. "As her legal guardian, anything you say to her must be shared with me."

Clara ignored her. She went on in a whisper. "You can tell me, Miffy. I promise I won't make fun."

Miffy struggled for several seconds, opening her mouth, closing it again. For a moment Clara thought she'd have to remind the girl she was allowed to speak. But then Miffy leaned in, and Clara felt the heat of skin against skin, and the tiny woman pressed her lips against Clara's ear. The words the shrunken girl spoke next were so quiet, Clara experienced them as vibration rather than sound.

"My owner doesn't know."

"Doctor Terringer!" Miss Montblanc snapped.

"Doesn't know what?" Clara breathed.

She felt Miffy swallow. "How much I like it. My first boyfriend made fun of me, for how easy I could cum from being fucked back there, and he made me beg for it, and it was so humiliating, and if you take my temperature I don't think I'll be able to help myself, and if I cum here, for you, then I...."

Doctor Clara slowly pulled away, deliberately standing back to her full height even as the girl tried to go on. A look of frustration crossed her face, followed immediately by horror as she understood what was about to happen. "I'm afraid this is a medical necessity," Clara said, using the deep, commanding voice she often thought of as no-nonsense Clara. "Put your forehead head on the table, spread your legs, and don't hold your breath. If you're a good girl, you can still earn a treat. If you're bad, well. I'll leave that up to your owner."

Miffy stared at her, mouth open in shock. Unshed tears of embarrassment gathered in her eyes. She sniffled. But then she nodded. "Yes, Doctor Clara."

As if in a dream, Miffy got in position. Her whole body trembled as she stuck her beautifully-shaped rump in Clara's direction. Her entire body was slick with sweat, but her inner thighs were practically soaked. There were great droplets of dew, practically threatening to run down her legs. The pert little rosebud of her anus stood out for Clara's attention. It quivered and flexed in time with the frightened girl's breathing. There were tiny hairs along it, sparse and curly, that had escaped attention during Miffy's latest dye job. Evidently she was a brunette.

Clara began to spread silicone lube over her gloved finger in a practiced manner. She applied it liberally to the metal bulb of the thermometer. And then she lowered her fingertip, and allowed the pad of her index finger to come to rest between the glorious curves of Miffy's ass.

Miffy moaned, the sound shockingly loud in the small room.

"Turn her so I can see," Miss Montblanc ordered. The giant woman was grinning wickedly. One of her hands had disappeared beneath the elastic band of her skirt. The big lady in town wasn't bothering to hide the fact that she was masturbating.

"Do as your owner says," Clara told the shrunken woman.

Miffy let out a mournful little hiccup, then obediently wiggled along the table until her body was angled to give Miss Montblanc a full view.

"I still can't see," Miss Montblanc grumbled. "Those big cheeks of hers are getting in the way."

Her face pressed to the table, Miffy looked to Clara. Clara nodded. At once the half-sized girl reached around and grabbed her tush with both hands, pulled, spread her crease wide for Miss Montblanc to see. Tears of embarrassment ran freely down the woman's face, pooling around her on the table. Miffy wallowed in them. Anticipation danced in her eyes.

"You're doing a good job," Clara told her. She began to move her finger in a gentle circle around the rim of Miffy's rosette. "You're a good girl. And you're almost ready."

The shrunken girl moaned, and nodded.

"It's an old thermometer," Clara went on, "so it will take about thirty seconds to get a good reading once it's all the way in. Can you last thirty seconds for me, Miffy?"

"I'll... oooh! I'll try, Doctor Clara!"

Clara held the thermometer close, even as pressed her fingertip more firmly against the girl. Clara gradually increased the pressure, until at last she felt a butterfly pulse as Miffy's sphincter relaxed, and the first millimeter of her littlest finger disappeared inside. Miffy squealed, and kicked, and nodded. She was predictably tight at her size, but Clara could easily have slipped her finger in up to the last knuckle. With a little warm-up, Miffy could probably take two of her fingers, or perhaps even three. Clara's hands remained steady with this observation, even as she became aware that this was the most turned on she had been in a long time -- years, perhaps. She marked this as a data point; something to examine later. For now, there was work to be done.

"Okay, Miffy. Take a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out. And...."

Clara pulled out her finger. In a smooth motion she replaced it with the thermometer, and placed it deep inside.

Miffy shrieked. It was a high-pitched keen of pleasure, the sort of sound that could shatter wine glasses. The girl's voice grew louder and higher as more of the thermometer disappeared inside. Clara went as deep as she dared with a woman of Miffy's size -- but there were full-grown men who hadn't received this tool half as well. And even at the limit of safety Miffy begged with her eyes for Clara to keep going, as hot shame bloomed on her pretty little face.

"Thirty seconds," Clara purred, as the pet girl continued to scream. "Can you last thirty seconds, Miffy?"

"Will... will you count me down?"

From behind her, Miss Montblanc inhaled sharply. "I advise against this, Doctor!"

"I'll remind you again, she's my patient!" Clara lowered herself so she could look smirk into Miffy's eyes. The girl looked back, her lips making a perfect 'o' of pleasure.

"Thirty," the doctor said. "Twenty-nine."

She went slow with her count, taking at least a three-second pause between each number while Miffy howled and shook. Clara moved the thermometer gently back and forth, sometimes pushing it in deeper, sometimes pulling it until the tip almost escaped.

At twenty, Clara reached for her stethoscope. She began to press the cold metal bell down on Miffy's breasts, first one, and then the other. At fifteen, she started to move the stethoscope down her body, over her stomach, around her navel. By ten, it was pressing firmly against Miffy's pubic mound, and the girl was openly rutting herself against it. Occasionally the girl would slide forward suddenly, try to get Clara to stroke the bell across her clitoris or labia, but each time she tried this Clara would move it out of the way, and pull the thermometer further out as punishment. Eventually Miffy learned her lesson.

"Five." By then Miffy had been good for a while, so Clara went back to giving it to her deep. She adjusted her angle slightly, allowing the tip to apply pressure to the outer wall of her vaginal canal. The miniature woman was dripping down to her knees, making extreme lubrication a possible side effect of shrinking, though the more simple diagnosis was that Miffy was a needy little butt-slut. "Four. You're doing good, Miffy. You're so close to getting your reward."

"I'm so close," Miffy agreed. "So close!"

"Three." Clara pressed down harder with the stethoscope; rested her fingertips on Miffy's back. "Two. Are you ready to finish, Miffy?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"One. And. Zero."

Miffy came. It was a sudden orgasm, a deluge, an explosion. An enormous quantity of ejaculate squirted from between Miffy's thighs, soaking the exam table, splashing down onto the tile floor. Doctor Clara maintained eye contact all throughout, smirking into her eyes, affecting a demeaning little laugh. "Oh no! Looks like my patient had a little accident! Gosh, I can't say I've ever seen that before -- a pet having an orgasm during an exam, and just from having her temperature taken! We'll have to get that cleaned up, and get you a treat besides, for being such a good girl, yes Miffy, you are such a good girl⁠--"

Her speech cut off suddenly. There was an unexpected observation, which at first Clara attributed to a trick of the light, or that Miffy was simply pulling in on herself in humiliation. But no -- Miffy was shrinking!

Her already petite body dwindled smaller right there on the exam table, as Clara still held the thermometer inside. The girl shivered and whimpered, and thrust herself helplessly against it. As she did she kept staring at Clara, her expression speaking volumes. She was humiliated. This was the lowest moment of her life. And she wanted for Clara to see her getting smaller. Moreover, she was grateful to be shrinking again.

Miffy was three-foot-seven. Then three-six, three-five. The inches melted away, and Miffy kept fucking herself against the thermometer. Clara was too shocked to move. And she realized that the girl intended to keep going, to make herself cum again, and if she did the most likely outcome was that she would shrink even more.

Clara was still wrestling with whether to allow that to happen, when a giant shadow darkened the room. An enormous, cold hand closed over hers, and forced her to pull out the thermometer. Miffy let out a howl of disappointment. She was three-foot-four, Clara guessed -- but at the moment, the tiny woman's owner was Clara's chief concern.

Miss Montblanc, the big lady in town, stood towering over her, an evil scowl on her face. For a moment Clara legitimately feared for her life. There was nothing she could do against a woman this size: eight inches taller; two hundred pounds heavier; and every ounce of her practically chiseled from stone.

But then, Miss Montblanc fixed her hard-angled face into a smile. "Thank you for your services, Doctor. Terringer. Your examination is now completed. I require a moment with my Miffy. Alone."

Clara spared a look for her patient. Miffy looked so incredibly vulnerable, lying there covered her own tears and cum, still shaking from her orgasm, and four inches smaller besides. It was regrettable. But Clara saw no other options. In a smooth motion she turned, retrieved her copy of Miffy's contact, and walked smartly from the room. Clara disappeared into the hallway, not looking back.