Treatment

— Get undressed.

— Ah… but, Pal Semyonych…

— Katerina, what's the matter? Are you a little child? How am I supposed to examine you?

— But you can… You're a knowledgeable paramedic… You can tell by the eyes, like you did with Prokopyevna earlier…

— That was a completely different matter, — Pal Semyonych muttered.

Prokopyevna was a noisy old woman, and to convince her to take a needed pill, one sometimes had to resort to tricks.

— That was completely different… Don't be silly, Katya-Molokatya. Pregnancy is no joke, and this is absurd, after all… Come on, Katya! We're friends, — he suddenly smiled at her.

Katya smiled back. Then she sighed.

— At least turn away.

—

Why?

— While I get undressed…

They really were friends. The wayward girl Katka Molokina had no better friend than the paramedic Pal Semyonych, who had nursed her back to health when a swarm of bees had turned Katka into a piece of swollen meat. She would hang around his place for hours, helping with bandaging, smearing ointments, pulling out splinters, and in the end became a first-rate nurse. "Even fit for war, God forbid," she would say solemnly in her deep voice at around eighteen.

Then came the songs on the porch bench, but still Katya, grown-up and full-figured like an Antonovka apple, would visit Pal Semyonych several times a week, and he would smile sadly, looking at her.

And even after marriage, Katya did not forget him, though, of course, times had changed completely. The paramedic was no longer young and was as ugly as a forest goblin: crooked eyes, a long, porous nose, and beneath it — equally long mustaches, resembling squirrel tails in spring. Gossip kept quiet: Pal Semyonych was far too unattractive.

— Ready? Can I turn around?

— Uh-huh…

The paramedic turned and sighed.

Before him stood a wondrous monster: from hips to shoulders — a strapping woman with jutting breasts and a belly like a sow's, and above — a delicate head, crimson with shame.

Silence reigned for several moments.

— Don't smile, Pal Semyonych! I'm already… — Katya whined, tucking her head down.

— Your own cheeks are twitching.

— Eeeh… — she either snorted or sobbed. The paramedic stroked her shoulder.

— One isn't ashamed before doctors. Tell me, Katya-Molokatya, what and how is wrong with you. Your tits ache, you say?

— Uh-huh…

— Let it be known to you that this is an ordinary and completely normal phenomenon, — said Pal Semyonych, carefully feeling Katya's massive breasts, first the right, then the left. Katya sniffled silently. — It's always like this when you're carrying a child… Does it hurt?

— No…

— No lumps. Nipples…

— Aaah!

— Bear it, — ordered Pal Semyonych, probing both of Katya's nipples, swollen like lingonberries. — Nipples are fine… What you've got here, — he couldn't help himself, lifting her left breast from below with his palm. — A good handful, at least.

— Pal Semyonych!..

— I remember now, Katyush, what you were like when the bees stung you, and I wiped you all over… Well, God grant it. Grow big!

— All done? Can I get dressed?

— Wait. And the main thing?

— What main thing?

— What do you mean? Lie down right here, spread your legs…

— Pal Semyonych!!!

— What's the matter, Katya? You came yourself, saying 'something's wrong…' I must examine you, my Katya-Molokatya, like… like… There's a good girl, you lay down. Now spread them, — he coaxed, gently pressing on Katya's knees. — I'll be delivering your baby anyway. Me and your cunt are fated to meet. Come on!..

The paramedic was the village's foremost foul-mouth, and everyone knew it. Katya finally yielded to him, parting her purplish shame, covered with fair hair.

— As far as I can tell, everything's fine… — he muttered, delving into Katya's depths. From there, an oily drop trickled down the inner side of her thigh. — You want to fuck, huh? — Pal Semyonych suddenly asked.

— Ehh…

— Don't be ashamed, Katyush. I'm a doctor, after all. When did your Makar last fuck you? Huh?… Long ago?

— Long ago, — Katya squeaked.

— When?

— I don't even remember anymore… Seems like in winter, when I wasn't so big-bellied yet…

— Why is that?

— He's a baaaastard! — Katya suddenly burst into tears, covering her eyes with her little fists. — He goes after other wives, the skinny ones… All the women know about it, they gossip about us… He tells me — you're a monster, he says, big-bellied, I can't get it up for you, he says… Eeeeh!..

— Hmm, — said Pal Semyonych, stroking Katya right by her cunt. — I've lived many years, but I've never heard such a thing.

— My only joy… if only God grants that the little one is born healthy…

— He will be, Katyush. Everything is fine with you, everything is as it should be, so to speak. And as for your worries — I think… I think your body simply wants love. Understand?

— How so? But the little one is already… what's the point? — the surprised Katyusha whispered.

— Just like that. The body doesn't ask what's what. Well, there's a treatment for that…

— What kind?

Pal Semyonych touched Katyusha's cunt, oily, hot like a pancake from the skillet. Then he unbuckled his belt…

— No, Pal Semyonych, no! Don't lead me into sin! — Katya shrieked.

The paramedic froze.

— Alright then… Lie still, Katya. We'll cure you now without any sin. Now… Spread your legs a bit.

Bending down, he pressed his mouth to the parted cunt.

— What are you… what are you do… — Katya choked.

— It's a treatment. A special treatment, — Pal Semyonych mumbled, enveloping with his tongue the purple volcano erupting streams of salt.

Katya wanted to say something, but couldn't — she went limp and stretched out like a rag, rolling her eyes. Her enormous belly heaved like a dancing mountain, following her hips and cunt, melting from the long-awaited caress. etales.org Pal Semyonych shoved two fingers in there, found the little bump and fastened onto it, not ceasing to work with his tongue. With his other hand, he tugged his own end, retrieved from his unbuttoned trousers.

When a sweet little puddle was spat out from there, he stretched his free hand to Katya's breast and rolled the swollen nipple into a living fiery little ball…

Pal Semyonych's waiting room had known many a cry, but such piercing shrieks it had never heard, neither by night nor by day. Katya shrieked and thrashed her head as if in a fit, and from her cunt spurted into Pal Semyonych white salt, scalding like boiling water…

Then Katya's beet-red little face lit up with such a smile that Pal Semyonych couldn't bear it — he planted a kiss on her hot cheek.

— Eeeeh, — the happy Katya whimpered. — So prickly… What have you done? What was that?

— It's a treatment, Katya. So your cunt wouldn't ache, — the paramedic replied and stroked her hair, her breasts, and her immense belly, in which Katya's little one was stirring, displeased with such a shaking…

***

The next day, Makar, Katka's lustful husband, was axed to death by their neighbor Semyon Korovyov, who caught him with his own wife.

Manka Korovykha cried her heart out, throwing herself at Semyon's feet, who was bound by the constables; and Katka wept too, remembering Makar and his insinuating nighttime kisses. They buried him hastily, so as not to anger God.

Not even two months passed — and the whole village was celebrating at the wedding of Katka and Pal Semyonych. Having drunk their fill, the women winked at the newlyweds and gossiped about the shrieks that flew every night from the paramedic's hut.

— Every time we think Katka's gone into labor, — woman Nastya smirked.

— A pox on your tongue, — the drunk Pal Semyonych answered sternly. — It's a treatment.

Labor pains began on the third day after the wedding. The delivery was attended by the young husband (as the whole village, giggling, called the paramedic). They named the purple, loud-voiced boy, who cried like a beluga, Makar.