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Trust me. I'm a doctor.
Sat Sep 19, 2009 6:03pm


One of the young tournament medics activated her electro-suture device and pressed it to the seam of Cross' newly reattached arm. The coliseum's state-of-the-art infirmary quickly filled with the stink of ozone as artificial skin melded to artificial skin and left nary a mark. Evil company or not, BioSyn knew how to make a product.

From where he sat Cross admired the way the girl’s uniform fit snuggly in all the right places. He paid little attention to the actual surgical procedure and before he knew it she turned off her device and exclaimed “All done.” Pretending to test the repaired arm, Cross flexed his bicep in front of her.

“You know I just beat up three guys at once in the tournament.” the reploid boasted. “No big deal.”

She responded with wide-eyed enthusiasm. “Well then it’s no wonder you lost your arm! Are you in need of any other repairs?”

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we turn off the lights and let me give you an examination instead.”

“Huh?” the nurse asked innocently.

He explained “I’m talking about you letting Dr. Cross show you the proper way to perform a mammogram. And then I’ll give you a taste of my very special tongue depressor.”

“Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

Cross slid to the edge of the table. “Trust me, I’m a doctor. And I’ve got a thermometer that’ll make you bedridden for a week.”

Over the years Cross had come to believe that 98% of all females in the world were hostile lesbians due to the infrequency in which women responded to his advances. So it came as a shock when the nurse didn’t reach out to slap him, but instead placed her hand on him gently. In a mischievous tone she whispered “I’ve never done it with a gladiator before.”

“Well, I’ve never done it with a candy striper before.” Cross replied. “Although I did once make out for five minutes with a stripper named Candy.”

Without warning the nurse jumped on him, flattening Cross back down on the examination table. He tried to exclaim “Geez, lady!” but his words were smothered by the nymphet’s furious kisses. Cross sudden got the feeling that he was the one being taken advantage of, but decided to just roll with it since she’d already unfastened the large buckle of his leather pants. Shameless harlot.

Suddenly the door slid open and a small Iron Hand “Gopher Bot” hovered into the room. Like the larger and semi-humanoid “Ref Bots” used in the arena, these GopherBots (or just Go-Bots for short) spoke in the same robotic monotone and held authority as low level tournament officials.

“Contestant Croccifixio,” it droned upon seeing the two lovers. “Your presence is required in arena deployment bay 12. Please follow me.”

Cross groaned. “Can’t you see I’m about to have sex, here? Come back in two and a half minutes!”

“Negative.” the Go-Bot replied after a series of contemplative beeps. “You’re presence is required immediately.”

The reploid tried to outsmart the tiny bot by arguing “Can’t you see this poor girl has a fever? I have to give her an injection. An injection of vitamin Me.”

The Go-Bot whistled angrily and refused. “Negative. Repairs of non-contestants are irrelevant. The repairs of Contestant Croccifixio have been completed, therefore you must follow me to arena deployment bay 12 to check in for your new match.”

“Great.” Cross sighed, realizing this little tryst would have to wait till later. “Who do I get to kill this time?”

The Go-Bot blurted another series of beeps as it accessed the most current Iron Hand schedule.

“Contestant Lexander Morningstar.”


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    • Trust me. I'm a doctor. — Kail, Sat Sep 19 6:03pm
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