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You dragged a hand over your forehead, glaring at the internet page. Well, it was official- you couldn’t afford medical care from anywhere in town except the one place you’d been avoiding. Your eyes ran along the sparse page for the doctor’s practice, “Dr. Rick Sanchez PhD,” you noted that stating both “doctor” and “PhD” was redundant and the absolute lack of reviews. You sighed, leaning back in your chair, cringing at the shock of pain that ran through your shoulder. You bit your lip. Only you could manage to fuck up your shoulder while stretching.
Backed into a corner you grabbed your keys and wallet and headed out the door, deciding to get this done with as soon as possible. A doctor was a doctor anyway, right?
Another wave of doubt ran through you when you pulled up to a residential lot and you double-checked your phone. Hesitantly, you got out of your car and looking around, spotting a small sign on the front door. “Dr. Rick Sanchez GP, Walk-in-Care 10AM-4PM.” You paused only momentarily when you considered it. It was rare for doctors with their own practice to take walk-ins… This guy was probably expensive. Well, you’d just ask and if he couldn’t help, that couldn’t be helped.
You knocked. When there was no answer you carefully opened the door, peering inside. Your stomach sank a bit at the sight of a rather decrepit looking living room. Your eyes ran over the scene, beer bottles and trash all over the brown carpet.
You jumped when a man rose from the couch, his form before being obscured. He stood and stared at you for a moment. Your mouth opened, staring, now entirely sure this was a bad idea. An older man stood in only brown pants, shirtless, looking confused and holding a bottle of bourbon. Just as you were about to slam the door shut the man’s face changed and he dropped the bottle on the floor. He walked over to you and you pulled back reflexively, surprised by his speed as he pulled you inside.
“Wait-Wait one sec- Forgot it was a w-week day- I’ll be back- I’ll be back,” he thrusted you into the dirty couch and walked out of view. As soon as he left you turned your head to the front door, eyes wide. Just as you had made up your mind to book it the ‘doctor’, whom you were beginning to believe less and less was actually a doctor, stumbled back into the room.
You stared as he walked over to you, now slightly more clothed. He was wearing a white button up shirt now and had a tie loosely around his neck, as if he was trying to look professional. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that ship had sailed from the moment you saw his practice.
“What’s the prob- how can I help?”
You blinked and tried not to stare. Your eyes fell to the filthy carpet, your hands digging into your clothes. You considered saying “Actually, nevermind!” and running as your shoulder twinged, a shock of static running down your arm and frazzling your fingertips with pain. You visibly cringed, grunting.
“Pain?”
You nodded wordlessly as he knelt next to you, staring into your face. You noticed how tall the man was and how serious he looked at the moment. You relaxed a little.
“My shoulder,” you pointed with your good hand.
The man nodded and you tried not to jerk away when his hands grabbed your shoulder, pressing along.
“How’d you manage that?”
“Uhm- I was stretching… and it popped.”
“Popped?” the doctor sounded incredulous as he pressed, a spike of pain shooting through you. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut, breathing hard.
The doctor paused, looking into your face. You stared off to the side, staring at the television that continued playing in the background.
“Dislocated.”
Another squeeze, another bolt of pain stabbing through you, another breathless groan. Your hands twisted hard into your clothes.
“Sorry about this- it’s for your own good.”
You didn’t have the time to ask what he meant.
You suddenly couldn’t see, eyes tearing up as your arm was held in place, strong hands pushing hard on your shoulder. You yelled, unable to comprehend the source of the pain from how strong it was, feeling like your arm was going to fall off from the frazzling of your nerves. Your head fell forward and into the man’s neck as you gasped, tears welling up as you heard and felt a harsh pop.
“Theeeere we go,” the doctor cooed, rubbing your shoulder, as your body shook, your eyes shut tight as you caught your breath. A solid mass of pain fell over your shoulder but no longer felt like a pulsing, living organism tearing through you.
Finally, sparks of lights faded from your vision as only a slight pain was left. The smell of alcohol and stale cologne hit you and you opened your eyes blearily. You felt your cheeks warm up as you opened your eyes, the sight of a neck, white collar, and white hair hitting your senses all at once. You pulled away too quickly, your good hand grabbing your hurt arm instinctively.
“I’m so sorry-”
Those rough hands ran over your neck and you froze, mouth open, tears still drying on your cheeks.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re pretty cute when you’re- when- you’re cute.”
You merely blinked, processing the words as the man stood, running his hands gently over your scalp.
“You took that pretty well,” you looked up at the doctor, heart stopping at his blue gaze as he towered over your sitting form.
“Hope you brought cash or check,” he pulled his hand out your hair as he walked over to the coffee table, flipping open a binder.
“Let’s see- Check up and luxation realignment- five hundred dollars.”
Your mouth hung open as it struck you. You had never even asked how much his rates were and you sure as hell could not afford that.
He turned to you and smirked.
“How much you got?”
You looked down at your wallet, trying to calculate how much you could possibly spare.
His hands were in your hair again, stroking gently. You shook, breath hitching in your throat as one of his hands traveled lower, pulling up your chin.
“Nah- fuck that.”
Your mouth was dry.
“You’re too hot to pass up- don’t even sweat it…”
He was kneeling in front of you again and it was getting harder to think or breathe when his breath ran along you ear.
“Play a game with me and I’ll forget about your debt.”
He pulled away, looking into your eyes, gauging your reaction.
“If I go too far, make a peace sign, okay? I won’t hurt you. I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I just want to- I want to see you under me, baby.”
The words ran through your head. Five-hundred dollars. Five-hundred dollars you didn’t have. You gulped and bit your lip. You slowly nodded.
At that a small toothy grin spread on his face and your heart absolutely stopped.
“Follow me,” a hand grabbed yours. He pulled gently to help you to your feet and led you through an archway and up the stairs. It occurred to you this was a terrible idea when a surprisingly well kept bedroom slid into view. He led you straight through it and into a surprisingly spacious bathroom.
“Get undressed and wait here I’ll be- I’ll be back.”
As soon as he left the room a shock of fear plunged to your stomach. What the fuck were you doing? But then remembered his words. You carefully made a peace sign, analyzing your hands. Somehow you knew he wasn’t lying. You closed your eyes and got your shit together, yanking your clothes off. He spent longer than expected so you busied yourself with folding your clothes and placing them in the corner.
The door creaked open as you were bent over and you jumped, hands covering yourself reflexively.
You forgot about yourself the moment you saw him.
Your eyes caught onto his shoes, white platform heels, your breath hitching in your throat as your eyes clung up his legs, white stockings stopping just before a flared medical smock and apron. You settled on his head, his already wild white hair pushed back and under a cliche-looking nurse’s hat. Finally your eyes settled on his lopsided grin.
“Like what-what you see?”
You didn’t respond but it seemed he didn’t mind as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his other hand on the small of your back as he helped you onto the tile floor. You shivered at cold tile while you stared at his gloved hands.
“C-Come on baby, what’s not to love?”
Your nose reflexively scrunched up, lip furling, brows furrowing as his smell hit you. You stared at the man who was crawling on top of you.
“Trust me, I’m a doctor,” he whispered into your ear, the smell of alcohol and rot hitting your senses head on. You pushed his chest with your hands, hands rubbing against the cloth of the apron the strange doctor was wearing.
“A-are you a real doctor?”
The man paused and then a slow grin graced his face.
“You’re smarter than I thought.”
You opened your mouth, alarmed and about to object more furiously when a gloved hand wrapped around your wrist, dragging your dominant hand to his mouth. You froze when the pads of your fingers gently grazed his lips, chapped but wet. You shuddered at the feeling, closing your eyes as warm breath ran against your skin, goosebumps prickling onto your skin.
“You scared, baby?”
You closed your mouth, brows furrowed, biting your lip. You shook your head. The man sucked in your pointer and middle finger, tongue lapping gently along the skin with a wet suck. He pulled your fingers out, resting them on his bottom lip and stared deeply into your eyes.
“You should be.”
The comment was like ice, driving through your stomach as your heart sped up, the remnants of fear piling up. You whimpered and attempted to push away the man, you hand grabbing his neck, a weak point. He laughed at that and turned his head, giving you more acces. You reflexively flinched away at the realization he wanted you to touch him there.
“What, lose your fight?”
A gasp left your mouth when his tongue ran wetly along your fingers again, twirling in-between against the sensitive skin where the fingers separated. Another bolt of fear speared through you when he ground down- his erection rubbing against your stomach as he straddled you.
With far more gentleness than you could’ve ever expected, the man put a hand on your mouth.
“Shhh. You’re being so good for me…”
He ground down again, his legs on either side of you. Your hand not in his grasp mindlessly wandered up his thigh, nails tracing over stockings as your heart sped up for entirely the wrong reasons. You could see his panties peeking out from under his medical smock. His outfit almost… fetishistic.
“Keep being good for me,” the man punctuated his point by dragging his tongue along your wrist, making you shudder. The skin was fragile, the veins vulnerable, and surprisingly sensitive.
The doctor made a peace sign as if to remind you and you nodded.
“Are you okay?”
You nodded as your heart fluttered. You were surprised he had stopped even when you hadn’t done the safeword.
“I’m going to throw up on you. Is that okay?”
You bit your lip, brows furrowing once more, your hand running up his hip.
“Would you rather we do something else? I’m no one-trick pony,” he ground his bulge down on you, his heat emanating through his panties onto your naked skin.
He pulled your fingers back into his mouth and you shuddered hard as the feeling of your fingers touching the back of his throat, running over parts of wet flesh you’d never even considered touching before. His eyes met yours as he pulled your fingers in deeper, a gag causing his throat to constrict around your fingers but he held them there, his eyes watering from the effort. He pulled your fingers out, licking away the excess saliva.
“You- you want my fucking throw up on your chest, baby?”
Your hand tightened in his smock and he smirked.
“Say it for me.”
His free hand dropped down and traced along his hard dick, groaning softly as he rubbed himself through his panties, “Say it so I know you want it.”
“Th-” the words felt trapped in your throat, “Throw up on me.”
You flexed your fingers against his lips, entranced as lips pulled back to reveal his teeth, grinning.
“You get off on dirty old men throwing up on you?”
You shook your head, hyper aware of his gaze on you. He laughed, slipping his fingers under the elastic of his panties, sighing at the contact.
“I’m gonna- gonna make you vomit slut, babe. Once I’m done with you-” he grunted, wrapping his hand around his dick, “You’re gonna beg for it.”
Eagerly, he pulled your fingers back inside his mouth, and you brushed against soft, warm flesh, such a bizarre and new stimuli. He gagged around you, saliva dribbling down your palm as he pushed your point and middle finger in as deep as he could go, his eyes watering. You stomach flipped when you heard a wet gag, your heart speeding up.
Another wet gag, you staring in awe up at the man’s teary eyes as he gasped desperately around your fingers, heaving. And then, finally, he pulled away your hand only to have a cascade of stomach bile, alcohol, and not much else fall onto chest in two wet heaves.
Your mouth hung open momentarily, in shock he had actually done it, and staring at the man straddling you, the tears running down his face from exertion and gasping for breath with a deep moan. And then you closed your mouth when the smell hit you, when the reality of the situation caught up with you. But somehow it didn’t matter when those love drunk eyes were staring down at you, vomit dribbling down the side of his mouth as he desperately rubbed his cock to the image of you covered in his sick.
“Fffuuuck-” his body shook, eyes closing, light catching on the drying streams of tears as he ground into you a few more times.
He sat there for a few moments, eyes closed and some place else. Finally, he creaked his eyes back open and wiped his mouth.
“You were so-so good baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
You eyed the pills when you got home. You weren’t entirely sure what they were, only that you should take them before your next visit. You knew you probably should go to a more reliable doctor the next time you got injured but…
You put the pills on your dining table so you wouldn’t forget them for your next check up and, as it just so happened, it was nearing time for your yearly physical. You couldn’t help but smile softly as you checked your calendar and wrote down a reminder to set up an appointment.