Hello.
My name is Artyom.
23 years old. Doctor... kind of. I never finished my studies.
Is just that I prefer jacking off in my mother's basement to – well – reading dull medicine books.
It looked like a good idea back then.
"What could possibly go wrong if all you do all day is sit back and relax?"
I was about to get kicked out — that old witch wanted ME to pay rent for living in my own house — when I heard a clank in the basement window, it was a letter. Those fuckers got me a job. A job in a shithole, nevertheless, but as much as I would love to refuse here that was not a realistic choice — living in the streets is pretty inadequate for a good-for-nothing like me — and they had paid already for the travel expenses.
I knew it was a remote town but, my, this town is not even on the damn map. Do they even have internet here?
And what kind of name is "Trusin", anyway?
The exhaustion from the travel would have made me drive straight to my new apartment, and to bed, but Alas, I had to check in the... the what?
I never considered seeing what kind of occupation they assigned to me — not that it would have changed anything, heh. As I look into the papers I managed to find what kind of labor they will force me to do in this forgotten place: it seems like I'm going to perform as the general doctor of a small school, a secondary school. "Terence Tao's Middle School for ladies" it's called — is that name Chinese?
One could have thought that a girls-only institute would have been composed exclusively of women. That, however, is not the case, and my presence here confirms it. Why would they separate both sexes with so few students, though?
Maybe I should stop asking stupid questions and get on with it already.
The building is bigger than what I expected and it was surprisingly well maintained. Whilst I walk through the gates my gaze meets an old hag sitting on a desk to my left, her face showing certain discomfort. Being in the same place for hours must be a pain, heh.
"Can I help you?" she mutters, almost mechanically, as if she were reading a school essay.
"Yeah, I was assigned here. I'm the doctor. Didn't they..."
I couldn't have sounded more awkward, my poor social skills are showing. I just want to go back to my comfy basement.
"Oh," she says, looking at me with regained interest "the city laddie. We asked for a medicine man months ago, I'm glad they did send one at last."
I hope they don't give me a scalpel; I never figured out how not to let the pig bleed out. Oh, well.
"T-that's me, heh" I respond, trying to hide my nervousness.
"Your office is at the end of the hall. Oh, and welcome to Trusin" she says with... not a fake smile? How curious.
I walk down the hall while trying not to bump into anyone, an easy task because pretty much everyone was either receiving lessons or imparting them.
The sound of my steps is quickly deafened by a fuss coming from the window. The kiddies seem to be doing some sort of gymnastics out there, they look pretty lively.
Oh god, I remember now how much I used to hate this kind of shit. Especially that time I had to climb the rope and I... my skills were insufficient to perform the task, so I fell and broke my femur. On the bright side, I didn't have to do anything else of the sort for the rest of the year.
And, now that I realize, I'll be the one dealing with these girls' injuries from now on. Maybe if I'm lucky they will never fall off anything and I can just browse imageboards all day like I used to just with better illumination and getting paid for it.
Wait, maybe this is an improvement after all. This "working" thing doesn't seem as bad as I originally thought.
Where was my office, again? Left? Right? Oh, maybe it's the one with the "Doctor's office" sign on it, clever.
I hastily move to my chair to get some well-deserved rest. It wasn't that spacious but it quite fit my needs. It has a bathroom embedded to my left — free from suspicious odors — and a window on the back carefully covered with curtains, which certainly is a nice detail to have in a medical room. Not that I have to make any full physical examination. They must have other, properly qualified doctors in town to handle these matters. My job is just to prescribe aspirins and shit, right?
It would be obnoxious that the first girl I see naked — I don't think my mother counts — is a seventh-grade teenager.
No, wait, that's kind of the standard, right? People usually have their first girlfriend around that age and have sex before college. I think.
A meek knocking breaks my trance, someone is waiting outside.
"Err.. pass." I command, awkwardly, and a small figure emerges from the hall, probably a student.
She is comparatively young although it might look younger than she is due to her reduced stature, she has short, jet black hair, and she is probably a little skinny for her age — nothing to be worried about, though. Her modest clothing is covered with a fine layer of dust, too, which she seems to be bothered in brushing away, and there are also some marks of sweat on her chest and abdomen, which is relatively weird because girls usually don't get that much into sports and whatnot. But again, she is quite young, and young girls are usually tomboyish. That, until they realize that men give them stuff if they look good, of course.
That said, the way she hobbles along my office implies a possible injury on her ankle... maybe her knee, I should see if it's serious before anything else. Just a routine procedure, you can do this Artyom.
"You can take a seat over there" I ejaculate