It was a frigid Sunday morning in early February 2020, the world was gripped by the escalating panic of the COVID-19 pandemic. Matt, a 31 year old blonde, pulled into the driveway of his mother-in-law Chelsey’s suburban home.

His wife, Claire, had insisted he help her mother with a several tech issues plaguing her smart appliances refrigerator, thermostat, and more were malfunctioning. “You’re the tech wizard,” Claire had said, her tone leaving no room for debate.

Reluctantly, Matt grabbed his laptop and toolkit and headed out to assist his mother-in-law, Chelsey, a woman he’d always found formidable yet alluring.

As he parked in her driveway, his phone buzzed with a text;

“Come to the side door of the garage Matt. Do not use the front door. Chelsey.”

Puzzled, he slung his computer bag over his shoulder, and walked do the side garage entrance. The door swung open, revealing Chelsey in a striking display of clinical authority.

Chelsey his mother in law, 66, stood before him in full surgical PPE, a vision that sent an unexpected jolt through Matt’s core.

Her brunette hair, streaked with silver, was tucked under a green disposable bouffant cap, its elastic cuffs snug around her head, puffing slightly at the back. A clear plastic face shield gleamed in the dim morning light, covering a green tie-up surgical mask that clung tightly to her face leaving only her piercing green eyes visible.

Her curvy figure lush figure, and generous 36DD breasts were now accentuated by a tight green surgical gown, the fabric stretched taut across her chest, emphasizing her large breasts with every subtle movement, the gown swishing softly. A small white tag, used to secure the gown’s tie at the back, dangled just below her waist, swaying faintly.

Her small, plump hands were sheathed in tight, white latex gloves, the material stretched taut, extending partway up her forearms to seal over the gown’s cuffs, the glossy surface catching the light.

She held a clipboard in one gloved hand and a sealed Covid nasal swab kit in the other.

Matt’s breath caught, his secret fascination with medical attire surging to the forefront.

He’d harbored this medical fetish for years, captivated by the allure of surgical gowns, the squeak of latex gloves, and the idea of being under a medical professionals.

He’d never confessed it to Claire, despite tentative attempts to introduce it into their intimacy. Once, he’d suggested she wear latex gloves during sex, his voice casual but his heart racing with hope.

Claire had laughed it off, saying it was “weird” and “too real,” and another time, when he’d hinted at trying some “hospital themed Role play,” she’d rolled her eyes, uninterested. Her disinterest in exploring anything beyond very basic and boring vanilla sex had created tension in their bedroom, stalling their intimacy and leaving Matt sexual frustrated, though he kept these struggles private

From family.

Now, seeing his mother-in-law in full green surgical PPE the tight gown clinging to her large breasts, the snug surgical mask framing her eyes, the gleaming white latex gloves hugging her small, plump hands, ignited a forbidden thrill, his pulse quickening despite the mundane reason for his visit.

He forced his gaze to her clipboard, trying not to stare at the way the latex gloved accentuated her hands’ delicate curves or the gown’s emphasis on her large chest.

“Matt,” Chelsey said, her voice muffled but firm through the surgical mask. “You’re quarantining in the garage for three days. This Covid virus is very serious, and I’m not taking chances letting you into my house before then.”

Matt blinked caught off guard by your statement, clutching his laptop bag, torn between his arousal and confusion. “Three days? Chelsey, I’m just here to fix your appliances. I have work tomorrow. Can’t I just go in, do the job, and head home? I’ll wear a surgical mask, keep my distance…I”

“No arguments,” his mother-in-law interrupted, her eyes narrowing behind the shield. “This isn’t negotiable, Matt. The virus is too risky. You’re staying in here till I know you’re clear.”

“But I feel fine!” Matt protested, stepping forward. “I haven’t been anywhere risky. Let me fix the fridge and thermostat and your other tech issues it’ll take an hour, tops then I’ll leave. Claire’s waiting for me.”

Chelsey’s posture stiffened, her gloved hand tightening on the clipboard, the latex squeaking faintly. “Matt, I’ve handled your work situation. My nurse friend contacted your employer, claiming a potential COVID exposure. They’ve granted you emergency personal days. You’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re safe.”

Matt’s jaw dropped. “You called my work? Chelsey, that’s… that’s a bit much, isn’t it? I just want to help you with your stuff and go home!”

“It’s necessary,” Chelsey replied, her tone unyielding. “Follow me.”

Stunned, Matt followed his mother-in-law into the garage, his eyes flickering to the swish of her medical gown, the glossy latex gloves, and the way the tight fabric hugged her large breasts and round ass. He clenched his jaw, willing himself not to stare at any part of her hands, chest, or ass, the latex so tight it seemed to merge with her skin.

As they walked inside Matt saw the front entrance was sealed with a heavy plastic medical barrier, taped tightly and marked with biohazard warnings. Inside, the garage Chelsey had made a true quarantine zone: a cot with a crisp white sheet, a table with bottled water and packaged snacks, and a portable heater humming. A curtained-off area housed a chemical toilet and a sink with hand sanitizer.

The windows were covered with plastic sheeting, blocking any outside air.

“You can’t go outside,” Chelsey said, her white-gloved hand gesturing to the sealed space, as she shut and locked the door pulling plastic barrier done to cover it the latex squeaking softly. “The backyard is off limits can’t risk you picking something up out there. You’ll stay in here until I’m sure you’re safe. I can interact with you for 45 minutes a day 15 minutes at breakfast, lunch, and dinner to keep exposure minimal.”

Matt set his bag down, his mind racing. “Chelsey, please,” he tried again, his voice softer. “I get that you’re worried, but I’m careful. I haven’t been sick. Just let me fix the appliances and tech so I can go. I won’t touch anything else, I swear.”

Her eyes softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. “I’m sorry Matt, I know you’re frustrated, but I’ve seen what Covid can do. I’m not budging. Three days, then we’ll talk further.” She made a quick note on her clipboard, the latex squeaking as she wrote, the sound sending a thrill through Matt.

“First, I need a nasal swab,” she said, unwrapping the kit with precise, gloved fingers. The latex squeaked as she moved, the sound against her plump hands intensifying his secret arousal. “Tilt your head back please.”

Matt complied, still reeling from everything, forcing his eyes to the ceiling to avoid staring at her gloves or the gown’s tight fit across her chest and butt.

Chelsey inserted the swab into his nostril, her touch firm yet careful, pushing it deep enough to make his eyes water. He winced as she rotated it, then sealed it in a tube. “This goes to my colleague for rapid testing,” she said, labeling it and jotting another note. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll check on you shortly and bring you some breakfast.”

Quarantined

. . . . . . . . . . .

For three days, Matt would be confined to the garage, the medical barriers around him a constant reminder of his isolation.

His mother-in-law would visit him three times daily breakfast at 8 AM, lunch at noon, and dinner at 6 PM each time in full surgical PPE attire, her white latex gloves, tight surgical gown emphasizing her large breasts and rounded butt, snug surgical mask, and bouffant cap with elastic cuffs pristine, the face shield a barrier between them.

Each 15 minute visit would bring food sealed sandwiches, apples, granola bars, or a thermos of soup and fresh water, along with what Matt hoped would be an opportunity to chat, allowing Matt to get to know Chelsey better and alleviate what he was deterring would be a rather lonely 3 days.

Matt did his best to distracted himself as he waited for her to return. Deciding he would try asking about her nursing career as she never really talked about it before her retirement, his fascination with her medical expertise growing, partly he hoped this would avoid discussing his strained married life and bedroom issues with her daughter Claire, whose refusal to explore any sexual fun things had left their intimacy tense and stagnant.

He tried desperately to practice hiding his admiration for Chelsey’s appearance, determining he would need to work on averting his gaze from the tight white latex gloves on her small, plump hands, or how the surgical gown’s accentuated her curvy figure so well and seemed to make her look rather alluring and sexy, his secret medical fetish would make each visit a test of restraint he determined.

Day 1

. . . . . . . .

When, Chelsey returned a few minutes later with the breakfast a sealed bagel and cream cheese, setting it on the table with a crinkle of her medical green gown, the fabric tight across her large breasts. She jotted a note on her clipboard, the latex squeaking.

“So, Matt, how’s your job going?” she asked, her voice muffled through the snug mask, her gloved hands adjusting her face shield, the latex squeaking softly. “Claire says you’re up for a promotion sounds nice.”

Matt swallowed, focusing on the bagel to avoid staring at her gloves, chest, or ass, the gown’s fit making it hard to concentrate. “Uhhh, it’s good. Been busy and still adjusting to remote work now.” He shifted on the cot, his heart racing as she flexed her fingers, the latex squeaking.

“Hey, Chelsey, can we talk about this quarantine thing again? I really think I could just fix the appliances and your tech issues and leave. I’ll be quick promise.” To distract himself, he added, “Also you never talking about your nursing days so ahh. What’s your favorite colour of PPE to wear?”

She paused in note taking, her eyes crinkling with a smile. “You’ve got enough to worry about, Matt. Three days. No exceptions I’m sorry.” She made another note, her voice warming, the latex squeaking. “My favorite’s green crisp, professional, calming, like this gown and mask. Second favorite’s blue, practical, hides stains well during surgery.” She smoothed her gown, as she said this emphasizing her words, and Matt shifted, his arousal stirring.

“What about all this PPE?” Matt asked, gesturing to her attire. “How’d you get so much surgical gear when it’s Covid and these things are in short restricted supply?”

Chelsey’s eyes twinkled. “I only just retired a year ago, after 40 years as a surgical nurse. Toward the end, I consulted for a medical supply company, MediSafe Innovations, testing their PPE designs gowns, surgical gloves, surgical masks, you name it.

They sent me crates of surplus stock as a thank you, all sterile, top quality gear. Since I only stepped away recently, it’s all still perfectly good gowns like this surgical green one, even face shields, and my favorite, surgical gloves. I loved the sterile extended-cuff ones, especially the surgical green ones for deep surgical work; they’re thick, snug, and give you precision for intricate procedures. For messier moments, like deep internal exams, I’d use the long gyno gloves thick latex, reaching up to the elbow, perfect for keeping things clean during biopsies or pelvic exams. I’ve got everything in my basement, ready for emergencies like this.”

She made another note, the latex squeaking, and Matt nodded, his mind drifting to a vivid medical fantasy: Chelsey in full green PPE, standing above him on a surgical table, her masked face looming as she examined him, her green gloved hand brushing his cheek, her tight gown accentuating her large breasts and ass. In his vision, she leaned closer, her surgical gloved hand trailing down his chest, a sexual edge to her touch, her voice soothing yet commanding as she told him to lay still while she examined him.

His erection surged, and he quickly crossed his legs, to hide the bulge in his jeans, feeling a mix of arousal and guilt at fantasizing about his mother-in-law in that way.

By lunch, she brought a turkey sandwich and an apple, her gown swishing, the tight PPE fabric emphasizing her chest. “How’s Claire holding up?” she asked, passing the food, the latex squeaking softly. “She’s always been a worrier and Covid has been a hard change I know.”

“She’s okay, just stressed about it all,” Matt said, keeping his gaze on the sandwich. “Chelsey, I’m serious, I don’t need to be here. I can fix the stuff and go home today there is know need for all this.”

To steer away from personal topics he didn’t want her to ask about, he asked her more about her nursing time, “What was it like working as a surgical nurse you said you worked mostly with anesthesia

I recall? You sounded like you loved it.”

“Matt, enough you’re here for 3 days no exceptions don’t see this harder ok,” she said firmly, but her tone softened, her eyes kind behind the shield. “I know this is a lot, but I need you to be patient. This Covid virus is very serious, and I’m protecting us both. Just hang in there, okay?”

She reached out, laying a latex gloved hand on his arm, the cool latex against his skin making him flush, as she gently stroked his arm the latex amplifying his arousal.

“It’s true Anesthesia was my passion,” she continued, her voice brimming with excitement, nodding as she made a note.

“Oh, I loved working the anesthesia machine it was like conducting an orchestra! I’d prep it meticulously: checking vaporizer levels, calibrating oxygen flow, testing the breathing circuit for leaks, ensuring the CO2 absorbent was fresh and the ventilator was set. I’d select drugs based on the patient’s needs propofol for quick induction, sevoflurane or isoflurane for maintenance, fentanyl for pain control, sometimes midazolam for sedation or ketamine for emergencies.”

“I’d fit patients with a silicone anesthesia mask, sometimes a laryngeal mask airway or nasal cannula for lighter cases. My specialized training let me adjust doses precisely. I’d hold their head gently, talk them through it, have them count backward from 100, watching their eyes close as they drifted off. I miss it so much guiding them under was powerful.”

“Early in my career, I focused on anesthesia, but later, I trained as a surgical examine nurse practitioner, my second specialty. I loved working solo, putting patients under general anesthesia for biopsies or in depth physical exams, like abdominal or pelvic assessments. It was just me, the patient, and my tools, ensuring everything was perfect.”

She squeezed his arm briefly, the latex squeaking, and said, “I know this so scary but please just be strong, Matt,” before making another note and stepping back and leave the garage.

Matt’s fantasy returned this time with Chelsey above him, her green surgical gloved hands adjusting the anesthesia mask over his mouth, her surgical gown tight, her touch lingering, as she prepared to putt him under for a physical exam. He felt his arousal spike and crossed his legs tighter, his cheeks warming, but her latex gloved touch lingered on his arm.

Dinner brought a thermos of chicken noodle soup and crackers, Chelsey noting his appetite as he dig in. “So are you and my daughter thinking about kids yet?” she asked, her gloved fingers tapping the clipboard, the latex squeaking faintly as she did.

Matt shifted, his throat tightening, unwilling to admit that he and Claire hadn’t been intimate lately, her refusal to try anything adventurous like his latex glove fetish or even some sexy lingerie creating a major rift.

“Uh, not really…just yet….we’re just, y’know, focused on work,” he mumbled, dodging. Desperate to steer back to safer ground, he said, “So tell me more about nursing, Chelsey. What else did you do with anesthesia or those physical exams you mentioned?”

Chelsey’s eyes lit up, her voice animated. “Setting up sterile surgical rooms was so satisfying every tool perfect, just like my MediSafe stockpile.

But anesthesia induction and solo physical exams were truly my heart. I’d check the machine’s pressure gauges, fill vaporizers with sevoflurane or desflurane, ensure monitors were calibrated. Drugs varied rocuronium for muscle relaxation, propofol for short cases. I’d use a soft silicone mask for most patients, sometimes a nasal hood for kids. I’d hold their head, calm their nerves, tell them to count backward as they drifted off while looking up at me.

Later, as a surgical examination nurse, I’d sedate patients for detailed test procedures like biopsies, deeper internal exams working alone, fully in control. I really miss that autonomy and control. Wearing surgical PPE now brings it all back.”

Matt’s arousal spiked, his fantasy getting more vivid Chelsey’s latex gloved hands on his face, her surgical masked eyes above him, her touch both clinical and sensual and he crossed his legs, his erection throbbing, the tension from his stalled bedroom life with Claire amplifying his fixation on her medical allure.

Day 2

. . . . . . . .

Breakfast brought a sealed muffin and yogurt, Chelsey making notes, her surgical gown still tight across her breasts and butt. “Sleep okay on the cot?” she asked, her gloved hands adjusting her cap’s elastic cuffs, the latex squeaking. “It’s was a little hard to get comfy” Matt admitted as he didn’t want to say he was too sexual aroused to sleep well.

“Can you tell me more about your nursing days as I feel like you never talked about them before today,” Matt said, his fascination deepening, eager to avoid any personal questions.

Chelsey’s eyes sparkled with excitement as you asked her. “Oh, Matt, I could talk about nursing all day. Those medical exams were my forte surgical tests, biopsies, deep internal assessments. I’d map out every part of the body, ensuring precision, whether it was a pelvic exam or a prostate check. My training let me catch the smallest anomalies, and I loved the challenge of a thorough physical workup.

The the different type of surgical gloves were key green extended-cuff ones for delicate work, or the elbow-length thick gyno gloves for when things got messy, like rectal or uterine exams. I loved work solo, just me and the patient, fully in control…soon will….”

Her voice trailed off, her eyes gleaming as if she was about to say something more, but Matt, lost in a fantasy of her latex gloves hands preparing to exam him, in her green surgical gown, barely registered her odd pause.

Lunch was a ham sandwich and an orange, Chelsey jotting notes. “Claire mentioned you’ve always been good with tech gadgets,” she said, her gloved hands passing the food, the latex squeaking. “How’s your marriage these days?” she probed gently.

Matt stiffened, his mind flashing to an argument they had recently about Claire’s disinterest in sexual things, their bedroom cold and tense. “It’s… fine just covid is stressful,” he said quickly, avoiding her gaze. “So tell me how’d you keep all that PPE organized?” he asked, redirecting to her nursing expertise hope she would forget about this marriage.

“I cataloged it like a surgical supply room labeled boxes, inventory lists, MediSafe sent me so much surgical items medical gowns, shields, surgical gloves it was so much fun. It’s all in my basement. I honestly love wearing it again one perk of Covid is the ability to wear full surgical PPE again.”

Matt’s arousal surged, his legs crossed tightly, his fantasy of Chelsey’s surgical gloved hands and sensual touch intensifying, the strain with Claire only adding to it.

Dinner, brought a sealed salad and a granola bar. “You two settling into married life okay?” she asked, her gloved hands shining, the latex squeaking, her green gown tight a she noted things while he unwrapped the food.

Matt’s chest tightened, the question again hitting too close to his frustrations with Claire’s sexual disinterest and refusal to talk o it. “We’re… managing. It’s not bad,” he muttered, then quickly added, “Any other surgical nursing stories you have to share? You must have so many interesting ones.”

Chelsey paused, her eyes narrowing at his flushed face. “Matt, your face is red. Are you running a fever?” she asked, stepping closer, her latex gloved hand hovering near his forehead, the latex squeaking faintly.

“N-No, I’m okay,” he mumbled, his voice shaky, legs crossed tightly. “Just… warm in here been to close to the heater.”

She gave him an odd look, then made a note. “I’ll monitor you,” she said, her tone skeptical with an odd look coming to her face as she left.

Day Three

On the third morning, Chelsey appeared, clipboard in hand, her green PPE immaculate, her gown tight across her breasts and ass, her surgical mask snug. “Good news your test Matt your test came back negative,” she announced. “Your quarantine is now over follow me.”

Matt, relieved to finally be allowed to leave the garage, grabbed his laptop bag and followed his mother-in-law out of the garage, expecting her to lead him toward the kitchen. Instead, she directed him to the back of the house, a part he was unfamiliar with, lead him down a long hallway with no doors.

His eyes warily flickered to her latex gloved hands, and her accentuated curves, his arousal lingering after days pent up in the garage.

She led him down the narrow hallway, the air cooler, a ventilation hum audible in the background. Chelsey turned a corner and stopped at a heavy, locked door, her gloved hand fishing a key from her gown pocket.

“Before you can do any work on the appliances,” she said, her tone firm, “you need to undergo a full medical examination.”

Matt stopped dead, his heart racing, both aroused and alarmed. The idea of Chelsey examining him, her latex gloved hands on his body, in her surgical gown and mask, sent a surge of desire through him, but the clinical setting and her authority, plus what she would possible do to him sparked fear.

“An examination? Why? I tested negative for Covid, Chelsey. This wrong I’m fine. Can’t I just..wo”

“Enough Matt!” Chelsey snapped, cutting him off, her voice sharp as she stepped close to him, her curvy figure looming, the smell of latex and her sterile surgical gown strong. “You’re in my house, under my rules. I’ve been a surgical nurse for 40 years. I know what’s necessary. Follow me into this room now. No questions.”

She unlocked the door, pushed it open, and pulled Matt inside with a firm grip on his arm, her latex gloved fingers cool against his skin, the latex squeaking faintly.

Matt stumbled into the room, and looked around stunned by the sight before him. Inside the room was a fully equipped medical examination suite: white walls lined with cabinets stocked with syringes, gauze, and sealed instruments; a state-of-the-art electric surgical table, its sleek stainless-steel frame gleaming, padded with blue vinyl upholstery, equipped with a digital control panel for adjusting height, tilt, and configuration; a bright surgical light was mounted overhead with adjustable intensity; and a Mayo stand stood near by covered with a green surgical drape, its contents hidden.

A small fridge hummed in one corner, its door marked with a biohazard sticker. An IV stand stood ready, and a sink with a foot pedal gleamed. In the far corner, a larger double door labeled “Storage” stood prominently, its stainless-steel surface reflecting the light.

A second door, unmarked stood opposite the storage room, adding an air of mystery to the medical space. On the surgical table a folded paper exam gown, already lay waiting for Matt.

“Put on that disposable patient gown,” Chelsey said, pointing to the gown on the exam table. “Place your clothes in the biohazard bin by the door, then sit on the exam table and wait for me. No arguments, Matt, or else.”

She pushed him gently toward the surgical exam table, her curvy figure accentuated by the green surgical gown, as she turned, her surgical gown swishing as she walked out, closing the door behind her. Matt then heard the door lock click ominously meaning he was locked inside the room.

Matt’s eyes darted around the chilly room the medical cabinets, the unmarked second door, the humming fridge, the draped Mayo stand, the sophisticated surgical table with its digital controls. His mother-in-law’s commanding presence and the sterile medical environment intensified his secret fetish despite his fear and confusion at the situation.

He paced back and forth for a moment than with a heavy sigh, he began stripping off his clothes, folding them and placing them into the biohazard bin, and tied on the paper gown, it barley reach his back and almost ripped as he put it on.

He sat on the surgical exam table, the vinyl cool through the thin gown, feeling exposed and vulnerable, he shivered in both fear and arousal as he waited for Chelsey to return.

Chelsey returned, a few minutes later but she was no longer in her surgical PPE but was now wearing a fitted green surgical scrub dress, its short sleeves revealing her arms, the fabric hugging her curvy form, accentuating her chest and hips.

She wore white panyhose, and Matt ideally wondered if they were crotchless or perhaps stockings with a garter belt and clips, his surgical uniform fantasy intensifying.

He shook his head quickly, trying to focus the concerning situation. Her face was visible, the mask and plastic shield finally removed, her brunette hair in a loose ponytail. Matt smiled, relieved. “Nice to finally see your face again, Chelsey.”

She smiled back, her expression warm but professional. “Sorry, Matt, but I have to be careful. Covid is no joke, and I’m protecting us both.” She paused, her eyes softening. “I know this is a lot, but you’re in good hands. I’ve done this for decades.”

“Yeah, but it’s still weird,” Matt said, shifting on the table, his arousal and nerves making him fidget. “I mean, you’re my mother-in-law, and I’m now sitting here half naked in this paper gown in your own private medical suite.”

Chelsey chuckled, walking inside and setting down a tray with a glass of water and a white pill on it. “I get it, Matt this is a lot to take in but think of me as Nurse Chelsey right now, not your mother-in-law. I’m just a medical professional doing standard exam.”

Her tone was reassuring, but her eyes held a glint of something mixed with authority. “Take this pill It’ll help you relax.”

Matt eyed the pill warily, his gaze flickering to her curvy form in the green scrub dress, the fabric clinging to her chest and hips, his horniness growing. “What is it?” he asked, shaking his head to clear his sexy thoughts.

“Just a vitamin booster,” his mother-in-law lied smoothly, her smile unwavering. “It’ll give you energy for the physical exam.”

Matt frowned, his arousal distracting him from the odd look in her eyes. “A vitamin? Why do I need that? I feel completely fine.”

Chelsey’s smile tightened, her bare hands gesturing animatedly. “Matt, it’s standard. It helps your body handle the stress of a thorough exam. You’ve been out there, a lot and exposed to all sorts of possible germs and health risks. I’m not letting you into the rest of my house or near appliances until I’m sure you’re completely healthy.”

“I don’t know,” he said, crossing his arms, his eyes lingering on her tight pantyhose, deciding that they about could be crotchless, then snapping away. “I’m not big on taking pills without knowing what they are. Can I just sk..”

“Matt!” Chelsey snapped, cutting him off, her voice sharp. “I’ve been a nurse for 40 years. I know what’s best here. It’s a simple supplement of zinc and vitamin C to support your immune system. Don’t make this difficult.”

“Zinc and C?” he pressed, skeptical. “Why not just say that from the begi….”

“Because I shouldn’t have to justify every detail!” Chelsey interrupted, her hands waving animatedly. “I’m the professional nurse here. You’re my patient in my care, and I’m telling you to take the pill! You want to fix my tech appliance issues right? Then trust me.”

Matt leaned back, startled at her tone, his arousal complicating his focus on her odd behaviour. “Okay, but it feels… off. I’m just here to h..”

“No!” she cut in again, her hands gesturing sharply before forcing a smile. “You’re wasting time. Take the pill, Matt, or we’re not moving forward, and you’re not touching anything!”

Matt stared, at her and then around him the medical room amplifying the tension, his eyes briefly tracing her curvy form before he sighed in frustration.

“Fine, fine you win.” He snatched the pill, swallowing it with a gulp of water, the odd bitter taste of it lingering.

Chelsey’s smile returned, triumphant as she watched him swallow the pill. “Good. Now, let’s get started.”

She turned to a cabinet, retrieving a sealed packet containing a sterile green surgical gown, a green bouffant cap with elastic cuffs, a green tie-up surgical mask, and two packets of gloves one labeled “surgical” in white latex, the other “ sterile prep” in dark blue latex. With meticulous, ceremonial precision, she began the sterile PPE donning process.

She tore open the gown packet, the crinkle echoing in the quiet room. “Being sterile is critical for an exam,” she said, unfolding the green gown, its fabric rustling.

She slipped her arms into the sleeves, the gown swishing as it settled over her curvy frame, stretching tightly across her large breasts, accentuating them prominently, and hugging her rounded sexy ass, emphasizing her every curve. She tied the gown at the back with careful knots, the white tag pulled to finish it dangling at her waist, swaying with each movement. She smoothed the fabric over her torso, the gown rustling softly.

Matt watched, his arousal intensifying, admiring her how good her ass looked and the gown’s tightness over her chest, his fantasies vivid.

Next, she reached for the dark blue latex prep gloves, tearing open the sterile packet with a sharp rip. A heavy latex smell wafted into the air, sharp and slightly medicinal, filling Matt’s senses as she shook out the first glove, its powdery scent mingling with the antiseptic air.

“So, Matt, how’s Claire doing these days?” she asked casually, her tone light. “Is she still working those long hours at the office or is it finally remote? I worry about her burning out.”

She slid her right hand into the dark blue glove, the latex stretching taut over her small, plump fingers, snapping audibly

as it settled, the sound echoing in the room. The glossy material molded to her skin, creasing slightly at the knuckles, the deep blue hue contrasting with her green surgical gown as she snapped on the left glove quickly.

She flexed her fingers, the latex squeaking faintly as she settled the cuff up her forearm, overlapping the gown’s sleeve to create a tight seal.

Matt watched, utterly captivated, his eyes locked on the glossy blue gloves, the way they hugged her plump hands, the squeak amplifying his secret fetish. His heart raced, his arousal surging, the sight of her latex gloved hand hypnotic.

Without pausing, Chelsey shook out the green bouffant cap with a soft crinkle, tucking her brunette hair into a tight bun beneath it, the elastic cuffs snapping snugly around her head, puffing slightly as she settled it over her hair making sure no strand was sticking out.

Next she opened the white latex surgical glove packet, the rip sharp and deliberate. The latex scent intensified, a potent mix of powder and rubber flooding the room. “Double-gloving ensures maximum sterility,” she explained, her voice clinical as she shook out the first white surgical glove.

She carefully slid her blue-gloved right hand into the white glove, the latex layers sliding over each other with a soft, slick sound. The white glove stretched tightly over the blue, creating a glossy, multi-layered sheen, the material squeaking sharply as it settled into place.

She flexed her fingers, the layered gloves squeaking louder, the white latex creasing over the blue, accentuating her hand’s curves, adding a subtle bulk that felt both clinical and strangely intimate. She tugged the cuff higher, ensuring a seamless overlap with the gown, the white glove’s edge slightly translucent over the blue.

She repeated the process with her left hand, layering the white surgical glove over it, the latex squeaking in a rhythmic symphony.

Matt’s gaze remained fixed, his breath shallow, the sight medical transformation and her latex gloved hands and heavy latex smell fuelling his medical fantasies of her touching him, her gloved hands both professional and sensual, his arousal overwhelming despite the strange haze starting to affect his vision!

“Clair is doing ok at work they are moving to remote work which is nice makes me feel like it will be easier for her” he mumbled.

“Good to hear,” Chelsey said, inspected her hands for gaps, the glossy white latex creasing slightly. “And how’s she handling all this COVID stuff? I know it’s been tough on everyone. She called me last week, said you two were disinfecting everything twice a day.”

Matt’s gaze lingered on her latex gloved hands, the layered sheen hypnotic, his fantasy of her gloved hands vivid, his head growing more fuzzy.

“She’s… coping,” Matt mumbled, his words slurring, his eyes blinking more slowly . “W-We’re all just… trying to stay safe. She’s got us on a scheduleeee.”

“Smart,” Chelsey said, nodding as she picked up the green surgical mask, its ties dangling. She tied it tightly behind her neck, letting the upper ties dangle at her chest.

“Claire always was practical. Takes after me in that way. I taught her to be thorough, just like I’m being now.” She said smiling as she turned toward him.

His mother-in-laws curvy figure, was now fully encased in the surgical green PPE, her large breasts and ass prominent, she exuded medical authority, the gown’s tag swaying.

Matt’s vision began to burr, his body felt heavy and sleepy, but the sight of his mother-in-law in her medical green PPE especially the latex gloved hands, the heavy latex scent, the tight surgical gown, and the dangling mask kept his arousal simmering.

“Ch-Chelsey… what’s happening?” he mumbled, his voice slurring. “What… what was in that pill whatttt…did you do t’me?”

Her expression neutral, she smiled and quickly came over to Matt, her medical gown swishing. “Just relax, Matt,” his mother-in-law said, her voice soothingly.

She laid a latex gloved hand on his arm, the latex cool and smooth against his skin, the touch feeling both clinical and intimately charged.

“That was some midazolam It’s going to help you stay calm for the physical exam. I’m going to take care of you, you’re in safe hands my dear.”

Chelsey instructed Matt to lie down on the examination table, the vinyl upholstery cool beneath him. “Matt, lie down,” she said firmly, her gloved hands gesturing, the latex squeaking.

Matt shook his head, refusing, his limbs heavy from the midazolam. “N-No, Chelsey… I don’t wanna…thisss is wroggg” he slurred, struggling to stand up, his arms trembling, his body sluggish. “This is… too much… I just came to fix your appliances…”

Chelsey’s expression hardened, her green eyes sharp and unyielding, her expression determined.

“Matt, stop fighting me,” she said sternly, her voice cutting through his drugged haze. She moved swiftly, pushing him back down with surprising force, her latex gloved hands firmly pressing down on his shoulders. “This physical examination is critical for your health.”

“As a surgical nurse, I’ve performed thousands of procedures heart checks, lung assessments, prostate exams, you name it. I’m checking everything to ensure you’re healthy. The Covid virus is too unpredictable, and I’m not risking my family’s safety. My expertise means I know exactly what to look for, so you need to trust me.”

Matt’s eyes widened, his head lolling. “You’re… you’re crazy, Chelsey,” he slurred, a mix of fear and disbelief in his voice. “This isn’t normal… I don’t need all this… just let me fix…..”

“No, Matt!” she cut him off, her voice sharp, her gloved hands pressing him down, hard now the latex squeaking. “You don’t get to decide what’s necessary. I’ve handled cases far more complex than this patients under anesthesia, full surgical biopsy workups. I know what I’m doing. Now lie still, or you’ll make this harder than it needs to be.”

She reached to the side pulling out a thick Velcro strap attached to the side of the table, her movements precise, and swiftly wrapped it securely around right wrist, the fastening sound loud in the quiet room, as she tightened it.

Matt struggled weakly, his voice slurring, as he realized his one hand was now restrained arm tugging futilely against the strap. “Ahhh Chelsey… why tie me up? This is… wrong… I’m not sick…stop this now…”

Chelsey sighed loudly as she held him, easily pushing his left arm back down. “You’re not listening, Matt. I had hoped you’d cooperate, but I planned for resistance. Restraints are standard when a patient is prone to be agitated and needs to be sedated, like you are now.

My anesthesia training taught me to keep patients safe whether it’s securing them for a biopsy or calming them with drugs. You’re in no state to thrash around, so I’m ensuring we both stay safe.” She secured his left wrist with another Velcro strap, the sound echoing, the latex squeaking as she worked.

Matt’s hazy gaze darted to his restrained arms, his breath catching. “Ch-Chelsey… you can’t just… tie me up like this,” he slurred, his voice trembling. “I’m… I’m not some patient… I’m your son-in-law…”

“I know who you are,” Chelsey said, her expression softening slightly but her eyes still firm, as she tightened the second strap.

“But right now, you’re my patient, and I’m your nurse so I’m going to treat you with the same care I gave thousands of patients. I’m a highly surgical nurse and can easily do everything, for your physical, and monitoring your vitals so you’re in good hands. But If you keep fighting me Matt, I’ll be forced to sedate you further, and I’d rather not do that.”

She stepped back, her gloved hands on her hips, the latex squeaking, the green surgical gown swishing gently, amplifying the erotic undertones of her nurses authority.

Matt’s head lolled, his eyes blinking slowly. “You… you drugged me… an’ now this?” he mumbled, his arousal still vivid despite the sedative. “What’s… what’s all this for? You’re… goin’ too far…with everything”

“It’s to keep us safe,” Chelsey said, her tone calm but firm, her face steady with professional resolve. “You’ve been out there, exposed to who knows what. This physical exam will cover every possible health concern bloodwork, organ function, infection screening, even your reproductive health.”

“My skills in anesthesia expertise means I will be able to put under, and can monitor you closely, while I do the intense of the physical exam, adjusting as needed, just like I did for patients at the hospital. I’m leaving nothing to chance.”

She paused, her eyes flickering over his restrained form, the medical tension palpable. “You’re doing fine, just let the medicine work. It’ll make you feel more relaxed, and it will make things easier for both of us.”

Matt groaned, his head spinning, at the how he got into this situation, and the erotic charged nature of it with Chelsey in her surgical gloves and surgical green gown. “Easier? This… this is nuts… I just came to fix your appliance tech…issues…”

Chelsey moved to the side of the exam

table, picking up a remote control. “Shhhh breathe Matt and be calm while I get you properly positioned,” she said, her tone matter of fact.

She pressed a few buttons, and the table’s lower half shifted with a smooth mechanical hum, its motorized components splitting into two padded gynecological stirrups, each with adjustable angles and cushioned supports, rising and angling outward. “This table is designed for precision,” she explained, her voice clinical yet tinged with authority. “I’ve used setups like this for countless physical exams, pelvic assessments, prostate checks, and surgical biopsies.

The stirrups ensure I have full access to examine your lower body thoroughly, as I’m going to need to get very intimate with you, Matt,” she said, her voice calm.

Matt’s slurring as his protests grew more frantic. “Ch-Chelsey… no… you can’t put me in those… this is too weird…I’m not letting you do it”

“Matt, calm down,” she said firmly, her gloved hands gesturing, the latex squeaking. “This is standard for a comprehensive exam. I’ve done this countless times for men and women alike prostate exams, rectal checks, vaginal all routine. You’re just feeling the sedative, which is why you’re feeling so anxious. Trust my expertise.” She opened a drawer, retrieving more Velcro straps.

“I don’t… I don’t want this,” Matt slurred, his arousal spiking despite his fear. “You’re my mother-in-law… it’s gonna be embarrassing…”

“I understand it may feel awkward,” Chelsey said, her tone softening, her gloved hands gentle touching his leg. “But I’m a professional nurse. I’ve done thousands of intimate exams genital checks, prostate assessments, even sedated surgical procedures under anesthesia. I hope it won’t be too embarrassing for me to see everything. It’s just medical, nothing personal. Think of it as routine healthcare check. I’ll be, thorough, and clinical and you won’t feel any pain.”

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of it’s all for your safety.” She gently lifted one of his legs, placing it into a stirrup, her gloved hands cool against his skin, the latex squeaking faintly, her surgical gown shifting, the erotic tension simmering.

“Don’t worry I’m going to monitor your vitals closely since your sedated,” she continued, securing a Velcro strap around his upper thigh, then his ankle, and his foot, ensuring immobility, the latex squeaking with each adjustment.“

“I will monitor your heart rate, oxygen levels everything. I want to make sure you’re fine and stable, just like I did for patients on the operating table. If you get too agitated, I may need to fully sedate you to keep you safe and comfortable, using drugs like propofol or sevoflurane, which I have and I’m trained to administer.”

Matt lay back still stunned at things as she slowly circled him checking this restrains while she talked. “I’ve already taken care of everything else I phoned Claire, told her you’d be staying over to fix a few things, and your work is sorted for the whole week. You don’t need to worry about anything right now only your health matters. These tests may take some time to do and now we have plenty of time.”

Matt’s voice slurred. “Please… Chelsey… I don’t need all his… just let me go…” His arousal and fear mixed, the medical setting and her latex gloved hands and surgical attire fuelling his medical fantasies.

Chelsey stepped closer, her green gown swishing, and gently cupped his face with one latex gloved hand, the latex cool and smooth, the faint squeak intimate, the touch heightening the clinical yet sensual charge.

“Matt, I’m going to keep you safe and make sure you’re healthy,” she said kindly, her eyes soft. “I care about you deeply, and need you to just trust me. I know it’s scary, but COVID is no joke. I promise you I’m qualified with over 40 years of handling complex cases, from anesthesia to intimate physical exams, I’m the best person to do this. You need to let me help you and not fight me on this ok.”

She held his gaze, her touch calming yet authoritative, as she stepped back, pulling up the green surgical mask tightly to her face, the fabric rustling faintly she tied it. She adjusted the mask’s ties, ensuring a snug fit, then clapped her latex gloved hands together, the latex squeaking sharply. “Let’s continuing getting you prepped Matt.”

She repeated the strapping process with his other leg, her movements precise, the latex squeaking with each strap. “You also won’t be needing this paper gown, Matt,” she said, her tone clinical. “I need you naked.” With a swift motion, she ripped the gown off, the paper tearing loudly, leaving Matt completely naked on the table.

Matt’s slurred voice rose in panic. “Ch-Chelsey…Noooo…..you’re my mother-in-law… you can’t see me naked!” His large, erect, and impressive 8 inch penis, stood prominently, the sedative and his medical fetish driven fantasies, amplified by his tense bedroom life with Claire, making his arousal undeniable despite his fear and protests.

Chelsey’s gaze fell on his erection, her eyes widening and she let out a soft gasp, a low murmur escaping her lips. Her gloved hands slowly running down her green surgical gown, tracing the fabric from her chest toward her crotch, the latex squeaking faintly with the motion, a subtle flush creeping up her neck.

She paused, her fingers lingering near her hips, then shacking her head sharply, her masked face regaining its composure. “Matt, I’m a retired surgical nurse,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with a faint tremor now.

“I’ve seen plenty of these reactions before. They do nothing I haven’t seen countless times.” She adjusted her mask slightly, the fabric rustling, and stepped back. “There we go,” she said, her tone returning to its clinical detachment.

Matt’s gaze drifted hazily to the Mayo stand, still covered by the green surgical drape. “What’s… under that?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sedation, his arousal unabated.

Chelsey glanced at the stand, then moved to the double door labeled “Storage” in the far corner, pushing it open with a soft creak. She disappeared briefly, then emerged, pulling two LCD screens mounted on a mobile stand, their wheels squeaking faintly. She rolled them to the table, then uncoiled the power cords, their dark rubber snaking across the floor. Kneeling briefly, she plugged them into an electrical outlet at the base of the surgical exam table, the soft click audible.

She stood, and went to a cabinet opening it to retrieve heart rate monitor wires and a pulse oximeter, their sensors glinting. She began attaching adhesive electrodes to Matt’s chest, her gloved fingers pressing firmly, and clipped the pulse oximeter to his finger, its red light glowing. She plugged the wires into the screens ports, and as she flicked them on, the displays flickered to life, showing real time readouts of Matt’s heart rate and oxygenation levels, accompanied by a steady “Beep… Beep,” the rhythmic sound now echoing in the room.

She then approached the Mayo stand, pulling the drape off with a flourish, revealing an array of surgical and examination tools: scopes, syringes with clear liquids, a pack labeled “extended gyno surgical gloves,” a speculum, an endoscope, a blood draw kit, and more items than his hazy eyes could follow, all gleaming under the light.

“It’s all necessary,” she cooed, her voice soothing as she reached up and switched on the bright surgical light, its beam illuminating Matt’s naked, restrained form. “Now then let’s get started, Matt!”

End: Chapter 1