The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Loki squirmed on the crinkling paper-covered exam table. He twisted the edge of his standard-issue TVA tunic between nervous fingers, fabric bunching beneath silver rings that clinked with every fidget. Across the room, Mobius leaned against a supply cabinet filled with temporal aura stabilizers and rubber-banded file folders, his shoes leaving faint jet ski tread marks on the sterile floor."Stop hovering," Loki snapped, voice cracking on the last syllable. His legs dangled childlike over the table's edge despite their adult proportions. "I told you I don't need—"A hiss cut through his bravado as he shifted weight onto his swollen right hand. The entire forearm had ballooned to twice its normal size since the Chrono-Bee incident in the 1987 Saskatchewan timeline, skin stretched shiny and hot beneath medical-grade gauze. Mobius straightened instantly, the leather of his brown jacket creaking as he stepped forward."Easy there, champ." The older man's calloused palm hovered near Loki's knee without touching. "Dr. Minshew said the temporal antihistamine might make you—"The door whooshed open before he could finish. A woman in teal scrubs entered holding a gleaming steel tray, her hair braided into a crown of silver coils that caught the harsh light. The ID badge clipped to her collar read Dr. Raisa Voss, MD, Temporal Nephrology."Mr. Laufeyson." Her smile softened the clinical precision in her gaze. "Let's have a look at that urinary output. Mobius mentioned you haven't voided in"—she checked the floating chrono-reader above her clipboard—"thirty-seven Nexus hours."Loki's throat bobbed. "It's the medication, obviously. I'm fine."Mobius cleared his throat. "You've been pacing like a caged animal for two hours, Lokes. Kept grabbing your—""I'm aware of my own anatomy, thank you!" Heat flooded Loki's cheeks as the doctor snapped on purple nitrile gloves. The shhk-shhk sound made his bare toes curl against the paper sheet.Dr. Voss positioned the tray beside him. It held a coiled transparent tube ending in a tapered tip, lubricant packets, and several ominous syringes filled with amber liquid. "Given the renal strain from the chrono-venom antidote, we can't risk urinary retention. I'm going to insert a catheter to drain your bladder."Absolute silence.Loki's green eyes darted to Mobius, pupils blown wide. The caregiver stepped closer, smelling of jet exhaust and the sour apple candies he kept in his desk. "Hey," he murmured, palm finally resting on Loki's shin. "Remember last month when you got that temporal flu? This is just like—""A tube," Loki hissed, voice climbing an octave. "In my—""Penis," Dr. Voss finished calmly, tearing open a sterile wipe. "Yes. Lie back please."The paper crunched violently as Loki flopped onto the table. Mobius' thumb began making small circles on his ankle. "Breathe, kiddo. In through the nose..."Cold antiseptic swiped across Loki's inner thigh. He flinched, knees snapping together. "For gods' sake—!""Legs apart, Mr. Laufeyson." The doctor's tone brooked no argument. "Unless you'd prefer complications?"A high-pitched whine escaped Loki's throat before he could choke it down. The ceiling tiles blurred as gloved fingers lifted his flaccid length, the chill air making every hair stand at attention. Something viscous and warm dribbled onto his perineum—lubricant, he realized with a shudder."This may feel unusual." The catheter's tip pressed against his urethral opening.Loki's knuckles whitened on the table edges. "M-Mobi—""Right here." The caregiver's other hand appeared in his line of sight, offering fingers to grip. "Squeeze as hard as you need to."The invasion burned—a relentless stretching sensation more psychological than physical. Loki panted through clenched teeth, watching in horrid fascination as inches of translucent tubing disappeared into his body. A faint pressure built behind his pubic bone, then released with a sudden hot gush into the collection bag hanging beside the table."Good flow," Dr. Voss noted, securing the catheter with tape. "Eight hundred milliliters. No wonder you were uncomfortable."Humiliation coiled hot in Loki's gut. He glared at the bloated bag now sloshing with his own urine. "Satisfied?""Not quite." The doctor stripped off her soiled gloves. "When was your last bowel movement?"Mobius answered before Loki could. "Four days. Normally goes every other day since we adjusted his fiber intake."Loki made a strangled noise. "Must we discuss—""Consistency?" Dr. Voss pressed, palpating his lower abdomen."Uh..." Mobius scratched his neck. "Usually peanut butter texture? But lately it's been more like... clay.""I will end you," Loki growled, face crimson.The doctor's fingers probed the left iliac fossa. "Distension here. Let's check for impaction." She opened a new package containing a long cotton swab.Realization dawned. Loki lunged upright, catheter tubing swaying. "Absolutely not! I refuse—""Lokes." Mobius caught his shoulder. "You've been rubbing your tummy all morning. Let her help."The q-tip glistened with KY jelly. Dr. Voss snapped on fresh gloves. "Left lateral position, please."Time fractured. Loki found himself rolled onto his side, paper sheet sticking to his sweaty back. Mobius' broad palm between his shoulder blades held him in place as the doctor's other hand parted his cheeks.The swab's intrusion was swift—a blunt pressure circling then breaching his entrance. Loki buried his face in Mobius' jacket sleeve, muffling a yelp as the q-tip rotated inside him. Distant clinking as the soiled instrument dropped into a specimen tray."Fecaloma in the rectal vault," Dr. Voss announced. "We'll need to disimpact manually. Mr. Mobius—if you'd like to collect supplies from the hygiene cart?"Loki trembled violently. "No no no, I can—""Shhh." Mobius pressed a kiss to his sweaty temple. "Remember our safe word? The one about the—""Rainbow unicorn jet ski, yes, I'm not feeble." Loki sucked in a shaky breath. "Just... don't look.""Never do, buddy." But the caregiver's hands were already unfolding a fresh diaper with practiced efficiency, the crinkle-cut padding smelling of baby powder. "Dr. Voss is gonna help you make a big stinky, okay? Then we'll get you cleaned up proper."The doctor warmed her lubricant between gloved hands. "Deep breath in..."Loki's scream rattled the IV bags.

Loki, while clearly nervous and worrying about his condition, was at a medical examination area, Loki had to endure having a catheter being inserted into him for urination and also had to have a medical examination of his lower bowel performed as he worried about appetite and energy levels, he was avoiding answering Philosophical questions about health and struggles.

To put it simply, Loki had to deal with two invasive examinations and had almost been unable to handle the stress.



The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Loki squirmed on the crinkling paper-covered exam table. He twisted the edge of his standard-issue TVA tunic between nervous fingers, fabric bunching beneath silver rings that clinked with every fidget. Across the room, Mobius leaned against a supply cabinet filled with temporal aura stabilizers and rubber-banded file folders, his shoes leaving faint jet ski tread marks on the sterile floor.

"Stop hovering," Loki snapped, voice cracking on the last syllable. His legs dangled childlike over the table's edge despite their adult proportions. "I told you I don't need—"

A hiss cut through his bravado as he shifted weight onto his swollen right hand. The entire forearm had ballooned to twice its normal size since the Chrono-Bee incident in the 1987 Saskatchewan timeline, skin stretched shiny and hot beneath medical-grade gauze. Mobius straightened instantly, the leather of his brown jacket creaking as he stepped forward.

"Easy there, champ." The older man's calloused palm hovered near Loki's knee without touching. "Dr. Minshew said the temporal antihistamine might make you—"

The door whooshed open before he could finish. A woman in teal scrubs entered holding a gleaming steel tray, her hair braided into a crown of silver coils that caught the harsh light. The ID badge clipped to her collar read _Dr. Raisa Voss, MD, Temporal Nephrology_.

"Mr. Laufeyson." Her smile softened the clinical precision in her gaze. "Let's have a look at that urinary output. Mobius mentioned you haven't voided in"—she checked the floating chrono-reader above her clipboard—"thirty-seven Nexus hours."

Loki's throat bobbed. "It's the medication, obviously. I'm _fine._"

Mobius cleared his throat. "You've been pacing like a caged animal for two hours, Lokes. Kept grabbing your—"

"I'm aware of my own anatomy, thank you!" Heat flooded Loki's cheeks as the doctor snapped on purple nitrile gloves. The _shhk-shhk_ sound made his bare toes curl against the paper sheet.

Dr. Voss positioned the tray beside him. It held a coiled transparent tube ending in a tapered tip, lubricant packets, and several ominous syringes filled with amber liquid. "Given the renal strain from the chrono-venom antidote, we can't risk urinary retention. I'm going to insert a catheter to drain your bladder."

Absolute silence.

Loki's green eyes darted to Mobius, pupils blown wide. The caregiver stepped closer, smelling of jet exhaust and the sour apple candies he kept in his desk. "Hey," he murmured, palm finally resting on Loki's shin. "Remember last month when you got that temporal flu? This is just like—"

"A _tube_," Loki hissed, voice climbing an octave. "In my—"

"Penis," Dr. Voss finished calmly, tearing open a sterile wipe. "Yes. Lie back please."

The paper crunched violently as Loki flopped onto the table. Mobius' thumb began making small circles on his ankle. "Breathe, kiddo. In through the nose..."

Cold antiseptic swiped across Loki's inner thigh. He flinched, knees snapping together. "For gods' sake—!"

"Legs apart, Mr. Laufeyson." The doctor's tone brooked no argument. "Unless you'd prefer complications?"

A high-pitched whine escaped Loki's throat before he could choke it down. The ceiling tiles blurred as gloved fingers lifted his flaccid length, the chill air making every hair stand at attention. Something viscous and warm dribbled onto his perineum—lubricant, he realized with a shudder.

"This may feel unusual." The catheter's tip pressed against his urethral opening.

Loki's knuckles whitened on the table edges. "M-Mobi—"

"Right here." The caregiver's other hand appeared in his line of sight, offering fingers to grip. "Squeeze as hard as you need to."

The invasion burned—a relentless stretching sensation more psychological than physical. Loki panted through clenched teeth, watching in horrid fascination as inches of translucent tubing disappeared into his body. A faint pressure built behind his pubic bone, then released with a sudden hot gush into the collection bag hanging beside the table.

"Good flow," Dr. Voss noted, securing the catheter with tape. "Eight hundred milliliters. No wonder you were uncomfortable."

Humiliation coiled hot in Loki's gut. He glared at the bloated bag now sloshing with his own urine. "Satisfied?"

"Not quite." The doctor stripped off her soiled gloves. "When was your last bowel movement?"

Mobius answered before Loki could. "Four days. Normally goes every other day since we adjusted his fiber intake."

Loki made a strangled noise. "Must we discuss—"

"Consistency?" Dr. Voss pressed, palpating his lower abdomen.

"Uh..." Mobius scratched his neck. "Usually peanut butter texture? But lately it's been more like... clay."

"I will _end_ you," Loki growled, face crimson.

The doctor's fingers probed the left iliac fossa. "Distension here. Let's check for impaction." She opened a new package containing a long cotton swab.

Realization dawned. Loki lunged upright, catheter tubing swaying. "Absolutely not! I refuse—"

"Lokes." Mobius caught his shoulder. "You've been rubbing your tummy all morning. Let her help."

The q-tip glistened with KY jelly. Dr. Voss snapped on fresh gloves. "Left lateral position, please."

Time fractured. Loki found himself rolled onto his side, paper sheet sticking to his sweaty back. Mobius' broad palm between his shoulder blades held him in place as the doctor's other hand parted his cheeks.

The swab's intrusion was swift—a blunt pressure circling then breaching his entrance. Loki buried his face in Mobius' jacket sleeve, muffling a yelp as the q-tip rotated inside him. Distant clinking as the soiled instrument dropped into a specimen tray.

"Fecaloma in the rectal vault," Dr. Voss announced. "We'll need to disimpact manually. Mr. Mobius—if you'd like to collect supplies from the hygiene cart?"

Loki trembled violently. "No no no, I can—"

"Shhh." Mobius pressed a kiss to his sweaty temple. "Remember our safe word? The one about the—"

"Rainbow unicorn jet ski, yes, I'm not _feeble_." Loki sucked in a shaky breath. "Just... don't look."

"Never do, buddy." But the caregiver's hands were already unfolding a fresh diaper with practiced efficiency, the crinkle-cut padding smelling of baby powder. "Dr. Voss is gonna help you make a big stinky, okay? Then we'll get you cleaned up proper."

The doctor warmed her lubricant between gloved hands. "Deep breath in..."

Loki's scream rattled the IV bags.

Loki, an age regressor working alongside Mobius has an allergic reaction to a bee sting causing an emergency trip to the infirmary.
  This infirmary trip involves an intimate medical procedure that his caregiver, Mobius, vigilantly assists him through.
 Inside the infirmary Loki must deal with chronic constipation, issues from the bee sting, and medical intervention recuperation from catheters to more rectal procedures to deal with his bowel.
 Loki must navigate multiple levels of discomfort and embarrassment beforeтарый before he can leave the infirmary.

Tron turned Trap

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