"The Dream Doctor" is now live for patrons!

EDIT: Literotica turned this story down. I'm more confused than anything else: they allowed the abomination that was "Partner in the Crypt", but turned this down? Why? That other story was way more fucked up! I might publish this one somewhere else eventually, or keep it here...

As part of a maddened writing frenzy, I wrote this story in a single day a while back. It's finally edited and ready to be posted. This story contains bloodplay and prostate play: enjoy!

~~~~~ ~~~~~

The downtown clinic was located right between the candy shop and an apartment building. It was a two story building with thick, white walls that merged with the adjacent buildings, and there were flowers all around the front in pots: Stephen, as he came in for his vaccines, wondered if planting flowers in a place where people with allergies often went to was a bad idea.

Stephen, a short, 24 year old college graduate with ruffled blonde hair, had decided to come in for some various vaccines after his uncle got the flu. He made his decision to go there after seeing a “Free Vaccine Week!” sign on the clinic’s website.

As he walked through the glass door in the front of the building, he was happy to come into the cool, vaguely cinnamon scented air inside. This was his first time here, and he was a little surprised by the red walls, the non-sterile scent, and dark wood floors. It occurred to him that he had never seen a hospital, clinic, or doctor’s office with this color scheme, but the decor felt oddly comfortable. To his left, there were empty reception chairs, and to his right, an older, gray haired woman was behind a desk, taking a phone call.

“Mmhmm. Yes. The 24th. Bye-bye.” She hung up, and turned her attention to Stephen. “Mr. Williams, right? I’m Terry. Are you here for your 2:00?”

“Yeah, but just call me Stephen,” he said. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Nobody else is here. The last patient left at 1, and the next one is coming in at 4. Amy and I are the only staff here today: I'm here for calls, and she’s here for today’s five or six patients.”

“Free vaccines and you couldn’t get anyone in here?”

Terry laughed. “The candy shop opened up a month ago,” she said. “Our business has gone down since then. I think our clinic is invisible when the place next door has fudge. Not that I’m complaining: I still get paid, and, you know, there’s fudge next door. Anyway, go ahead and have a seat: Amy will see you in a minute.”

Stephen walked to the red, cushioned chairs and took a seat underneath a wall mounted brass compass. It was a foot wide, and went well with the room’s general aesthetic, helping give it a luxurious vibe.

No more than twenty seconds later, Stephen heard the hard clacking of boots against the wood floor, and the door to his left swung open. “Stephen?” a young woman’s voice said. The head of a young, attractive blonde woman peeked from around the corner. She looked to be about Stephen’s age.

“Ah!” Stephen said. He stood up. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Dr. Symons, but you can call me Amy,” she said. Her blonde hair was long and wavy, and went all the way down to the middle of her back. A great deal of care had been put into it.

Stephen went to the door. Amy was taller than him, and wore a thick, white lab coat with a long, white skirt that went down to her ankles. She was wearing unusual, shiny white boots. Her all-white attire looked good on her body, but Stephen was just here for vaccines, not to flirt.

“Follow me,” Amy said. Stephen followed her into the red-walled hallway past two examination rooms and two offices, one clean, and the other messy. Although the furniture was fine and luxurious, fitting with the overall theme, the medical equipment was ordinary.

At the end of the hallway was a spiral staircase made of the same dark wood as the floor. The staircase, with its ornate handrails and polished, sturdy construction, wouldn’t be out of place in a mansion. The stairs creaked as Stephen followed Amy up to the second floor.

At the top of the stairs, there was a miniature waiting room with a small bookshelf of short story anthologies, featuring classic authors such as Joyce, Asimov, and Fitzgerald; Stephen only knew the latter author for his novels, and didn’t even know he had written short stories during his life.

There was one wooden door leading out of the room. Amy opened it into a spacious chamber, a combination of office space and examination room. A wooden desk with a globe and a shiny white laptop was on the left of the room by several bookshelves of medical texts, literary fiction, and oddly enough, a few programming books. There was a fuzzy, red recliner in front of the desk, and one behind it as well. On the right of the room were medical instruments, cabinets, a sink, and an examination table.

“Have a seat,” Amy said, gesturing not towards the examination table, but to the recliner on the left side of the room, facing opposite of her desk. Amy walked to her recliner behind the desk and took a seat in it, and she sunk into the red, plush fabric.

Stephen sat in his recliner opposite of her. It was as soft as it looked.

“So, what are you here for?” Amy said.

“Just a few vaccines,” Stephen said. “I can’t remember which ones, but I listed them all in the email.”

“I have the list right here on my computer.” She opened her white laptop and clicked around. “Mmhmm. Flu, tetanus, rubella, five others… you’re going for the full cocktail, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Well, most doctors would suggest spacing them all out, but if you don’t mind, and are fine with feeling a little weird for a day or so, I don’t see any reason we can do them all in one visit right here.”

“That’s fine. I’d like to do that.”

“Is this your first time getting shots?”

“Yes.”

“Any questions?”

“No,” he said.

“Good.” Amy stood up. “Now, let me just get the first one… we’ll start with the flu. Stay in your seat, I’ll do the rest.”

Amy walked to the cabinets on the other side of the room. She flicked through a few cabinets, and finally found a vial of clear liquid, an empty syringe, some rubbing alcohol, a bandaid, and a cotton wipe. With her tools in hand, she walked to Stephen’s side, set the syringe and vial on the desk, and started pouring rubbing alcohol on the cotton wipe.

“I’ll give it on your right arm. Let me just go ahead and sterilize this spot…” Amy rolled up Stephen’s right sleeve, exposing his bare shoulder. She rubbed the cotton wipe where his shoulder met his arm, and the cold rubbing alcohol tingled against his skin.

“Alright, just relax,” Amy said as she threw the wipe in a trash can by her desk and picked up the syringe. She punctured the foil lid of the tiny vial, and drew the liquid into it.

“Now, you’ll feel a little pinch… everyone reacts differently to needles, but it’s perfectly normal to do anything from feel relaxed to panicked to being on the verge of fainting, so don’t worry.”

Why did she mention fainting? Stephen was relaxed and confident that he would be fine. He wasn’t anxious at all.

Amy brought the needle closer to his arm, and Stephen closed his eyes.

Nope. Not anxious at all. Stephen repeated this to himself as a bead of sweat went down his forehead, surprising him.

He felt the pinch of pain, followed by a surge of relaxing warmth in the area, and opened his eyes, staring straight ahead at the curtained window, and trying not to look at the needle injecting him in the edge of his peripheral vision.

“Doing okay?” Amy asked as she was almost done injecting the fluid into his arm.

“I’m doing… fi…” Stephen felt lightheaded. Why? It was an uncomfortable pinch, but certainly he wasn’t getting sick, right? “Fine,” he stuttered out with slurred speech.

“Are you sure?” Amy asked. “You’re looking a little…” She finally finished injecting the contents and pulled the needle out. The corners of Stephen’s vision were blackening: was this really happening to him? Was he going to faint from a single needle?

“I… I…” Stephen said. He couldn’t speak clearly anymore, and his body was growing limp.

His vision formed into a tunnel, and his mind grew foggy and hazy as blackness overtook him and he slumped back in his chair.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Stephen floated in the mindless darkness for a while before slowly coming to awareness again. He was groggy, and his whole body felt tired. But that wasn’t all he felt: there was something round in his mouth, something holding his ankles and wrists tight, and there was a cool breeze all around his body. 

Stephen opened his eyes and realized with horror that he was suspended in the air in the middle of a dim, black painted room by chains around his ankles and wrists. His arms and legs were spread eagle, pulled tight by chains on the ceiling and floor. His mouth was stuffed with a plastic ball gag of some kind. And he was completely naked. The floor of the room was made of red linoleum tiles, and there was one pale wooden door in front of him. There were dim, white lights in the red-tiled ceiling above him, which was covered in the same red linoleum as the floor.

Panic shot through him, awakening his body and mind fully as he struggled in his cushioned metal cuffs and steel chains. The chains had almost no slack in them, and barely jingled when he tried to thrash his arms and legs. He hung suspended in the air, unable to break free.

The whole room had an unearthly aura to it: while the atmosphere of the clinic was luxurious, the bleached wood of the door, the room’s black walls, and the red, shoddy tiles on the floor and ceiling felt subtly wrong to him and heightened his fear.

The pale door swung open, Amy walked in from a dark place beyond the door. She was in a black version of the outfit she was wearing before: black lab coat, black skirt, black boots, and she wore a wickedly cheerful grin on her face. Her long, well-kept blonde hair now gave her a domineering vibe in conjunction with the rest of her outfit. In one hand, she was carrying a white handbag. It was large, and stained with splotches of something reddish-brown.

“Ready for your exam?”

Stephen tried to say something, but all he could let out was a little “mmmph”. The ball gag was tight, and he couldn’t push the thick plastic ball out with his tongue.

“Mmm. Yes,” she said. It’s normal to clam up in situations like this. Now, shall we get started?”

She walked closer to Stephen and set her bag next to him on the floor. He still struggled to break free of his chains.

“So, I’ll just take a few measurements first. I already have your height and weight, and now I just have to check a few more things before we can start, okay?” Amy reached down to her bag and took out a stethoscope, closing it before Stephen could see what else was inside. She put the rubber tips in her ears and brought the metal circle closer to Stephen’s chest. The cold metal came in contact with his sternum, and he struggled to break free as she calmly listened to his pulse. Although he still struggled, he couldn’t move enough to interrupt her examination.

After the metal circle had grown warm and stopped chilling his chest, Amy took it off him. “Mmm. I’m guessing… oh dear, 102 beats per minute? For your age and weight, that’s not a very healthy resting heart rate.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. Of course it was 102 beats per minute: he was panicking, afraid, and struggling in chains. Another doctor several months ago put his resting heart rate at 55, which was healthier than average.

“Now for the next test, I’ll need to do a blood exam.” Amy bent down to her bag and put the stethoscope neatly away. She pulled out a long plastic tube with a hollow needle on one end and a half pint glass vial on the other. You don’t faint from needles, do you?”

“Mmmph!”

“Good.” Amy spun the hollow plastic tube in the air like a tiny, needled whip. She walked closer to Stephen; although she was taller, he was suspended in the air, so their eyes were level with each other. Stephen stared into her blue eyes with fear as she brought the needle to his neck, hoping that he would just faint again so that he wouldn’t have to experience this nightmare.

And he wondered: was this real life? Was it a fucked up dream brought on by the fainting? He had no idea. But it didn’t feel like a dream.

Amy found an artery in his neck, and plunged the needle inside. If the flu shot was a pinch, this was a stab. Stephen watched as the beat of his own heart slowly drained his blood, which spurted through the pipe into the bottle in her hand. Stephen stopped struggling: he didn’t want the needle to move around and hurt him more.

“Feeling alright, my patient?” Amy asked.

Stephen said nothing.

“Good to know.” She smiled as she drained his neck; the bottle was a third of the way full. Did she plan on filling it? Stephen realized that this was the case as she kept the bottle held in her hand and more of his red fluid pulsed through the tube.

When it was full, Amy gripped the needled end and yanked it out. Pain shot through Stephen’s neck as she botched the angle---perhaps on purpose, he had no way of knowing---and blood shot from the end of the tube all over his neck and the floor.

“Now to clean the site,” Amy said, and she held the blood-filled container in her hands as she brought her head closer to his neck. She opened her mouth and teasingly held out her tongue. It made contact with Stephen’s oozing wound, and she kissed and licked the site of his puncture. The wet sensation of her smooth mouth and wet tongue was unnerving and gross and yet oddly… arousing? But all predictability went out the window: Stephen had no idea what this crazed doctor would do next.

She pulled her lips away as the flow of his blood stopped. In all, she hadn’t sucked enough from him to make him feel woozy or impaired. Half a pint wasn’t a whole lot. Still, the sight of his blood in a full glass bottle unnerved him.

“Hmm, tastes off… but that could just be the taste and texture of your skin influencing it. This is why I got a bottle: to test it without the interference of any other part of your body.”

Amy squeezed the blood-filled tube, pushing all the blood into the bottle. When it was emptied to her satisfaction, she tugged at the base of the tube, pulling it and the bottle’s plastic lid off with a satisfying pop. She tossed the needle and tube back into the bag and gently swirled the flask of blood in her hands before bringing it to her lips. She slowly drank and tasted the red liquid in front of Stephen, ignoring his struggling and muffled cries while she intently focused on her beverage, treating it like she was a professional wine taster.

When she was done, she put the stained bottle in the bag again. Her lips were stained red with his blood.

“Hmm. Yes. This explains the raised heart rate: your blood is messed up. It doesn’t have the right taste to it.”

“Mmmrg!” Stephen said.

“I agree, you do need immediate treatment. To do so, I must massage one of your organs to influence the flow of blood through it, and therefore change its taste, and therefore cure your heart condition.”

It was complete medical nonsense. Stephen knew it.

“So,” she continued, “I have my massagers and other tools in here. Your prostate is the most readily available organ, and I shall enact the massage regimen on it.” She bent down and opened the bag once more. She took out a pink silicone prostate vibrator, lube, and a pink silicone ring: a cock ring?

Stephen had no idea how prostate massagers felt: he had never used them. But he was afraid: afraid of what Amy would do, afraid of how it would feel, and afraid of how he would end up.

“Because the prostate is an odd organ, I have to control your arousal and blood circulation in specific ways to ensure that the massage works properly. Let me just slide this on…” She opened the bottle of lube and used the white brush on the inside of the lid to coat the inside of the ring in a slippery, shiny layer of fluid. She bent down, and grabbed his flaccid cock with one hand: it twitched a tiny bit when she touched it. With her other hand, she slid the tight ring on, sending a little buzz of arousal through him as it slid to the base of his cock.

When it was securely on, she set the massager and lube on the floor, and rubbed her hands together.

“The penis is closely linked to the prostate, so it has to be treated in this way. When your cock hardens, the blood will be flowing just right for the prostate massage to have its maximum effect. But, this means I have to induce an erection without touching it or your prostate: can you do that for me? Or do you require aid?”

Stephen said nothing and tried to think unsexy thoughts. Crab fishing. His car’s last oil change. The Washington Monument---wait, no, not that one.

He successfully kept his arousal down over the next half a minute, even with the ring on his cock. The little bit of arousal it gave was fading.

“Hmm, I’ll help you out.” Amy reached for the top of her lab coat, and started to unbutton it. Stephen watched as the first button was undone, then another, and then another, and he saw that underneath her thick, black lab coat, she was busty, and wore a thin red bra that covered the outer sides, middle, and bottom of her breasts, but left generous cleavage in the center.

Amy exposed her bra-clad breasts fully, and rubbed them together with her hands, arousing Stephen as he watched.

It occurred to him to close his eyes, and he did so.

“Yes, that’s good,” Amy said. “Keep my tits in your mind: let your imagination run wild.”

His cock hardened, but slowly.

“And, let me just stimulate you elsewhere to perk up your erection.” Stephen was surprised when her soft hands ran across his chest, rubbing around it before coming to his bare nipples. She pinched both of them, sending a wave of arousal through his body, and causing him to finally lose his battle as she kneaded them and his cock lengthened with arousal. The ring felt tighter as his cock grew.

Stephen was faced with a dilemma: struggle, or play along and make the best of it?

With the unbreakable chains, his inevitably hardening cock, and his complete hopelessness, he decided to just get it over with. He opened his eyes and stared straight at Amy’s exposed breasts as she stroked his nipples, only speeding up his arousal and making his ring-bound cock throb harder.

“Imagination not doing the trick?” Amy asked. “Then stare all you want, my patient.”

At last, his cock was fully lengthened. His erection felt odd from the tight ring around the base of his cock, but it was fully hard and aroused nonetheless. Amy took her hands off his chest, and grabbed the massager. She coated the silicone tip in lubricant, and Stephen watched as she walked behind him and out of view.

“Now, you’ll feel some resistance around your perineum, then it’ll slide in effortlessly. You should feel it rub against a pleasurable spot: that’s your prostate. I know where it is: don’t worry.

Stephen shuddered in his chains when the warm silicone tip brushed against his sensitive perineum. It was far more arousing than he thought it would feel. Amy pushed it in, and the curled tip of the massager met some resistance as it slowly penetrated his body. And as she described, the lubricated shaft slid finally pierced his tight entrance and slid in effortlessly. Stephen wanted this to be over with, and tried to think of sexy thoughts. Thoughts of porn, masturbation, Amy's breasts…

Then, pleasure rang through his ass when the lubricated massager bumped against the most sensitive spot inside of him: his prostate. He shook in surprise.

“Found it,” Amy said. “Now, it's at a good angle, and your ass is tight enough, so it won’t fall out. I’ll turn it on, and come around front to stimulate you: the rest of your physical arousal can only be from your prostate, so I’ll only aid you visually.”

Stephen heard a switch click, and then vibrating pleasure buzzed into his ass. He moaned: it was overwhelming. Amy let go of the massager, which held in place, and she walked around to the front of his body

Stephen was still scared, yet with this powerful arousal, part of him was starting to enjoy this. He had no idea that prostate vibrations would be so good, so arousing…

Amy stood close to his pleasure-addled body and shook her breasts in front of him. He stared down, gazing at her bra-clad chest which moved in a left and right rhythm. She unbuckled the rest of her lab coat, and she slid it off her body and onto the floor, exposing everything above her waist. She kept her long skirt on, but rubbed her thighs on top of the black fabric while shaking her breasts.

Stephen was in heaven: arousal flowed from his prostate to his cock, making it throb even harder and making the ring even tighter around his shaft. The slippery silicone in his ass was unlike any sensation he had felt before, and he was climbing closer and closer to orgasm.

His heart rate accelerated, and his mind grew more content by the second. He loved the vibrations against his prostate, and wished he knew about this kind of pleasure sooner.

Part of him was angry that this crazed doctor was still holding him prisoner. Yet, the pleasure was so good, so wonderful…

He was almost to orgasm. Stephen let out another moan. Amy smiled.

“I can tell you’re almost done: while we’re at it, I might as well collect a sperm sample. I’ll run a test on it tonight: semen works differently than blood, and you have to bake it into muffins to get it into a form you can accurately analyze.”

As Stephen felt himself hurtle ever closer to orgasm, Amy fetched another glass vial from the bag, this one clean, and held it just in front of the tip of his cock.

“Come on, my patient, just cum for me, come on, you’re almost there…”

With this last bit of encouragement, the vibrations rampaging through his ass sent him to the tipping point, and he felt his cock surge with extreme pleasure he had never known before. His ass clenched and tightened, and his cock came and twitched as jets of cum shot through it, unimpeded by the ring. Stephen’s mind went blank for a moment. There were only throbs of pleasure, pleasure, pleasure…

The orgasm died down, and Stephen came to his senses. Amy was collecting his still-leaking cum in her bottle. She gripped the base of his cock and slid the tight ring off it with some effort, drawing out cum as it left his cock.

“The massage is complete: I'll harvest this, then turn off the massager.

The massager’s pulse went from arousing to relaxing. Amy stroked his cock, kneading out every last bead of cum, before she finally brought her bottle away and took her hands off his shaft.

She put a rubber cork in the bottle’s lid, and swirled the white, translucent contents in front of Stephen, inviting him to look at it. He had come far more than he knew possible: although it wasn’t anywhere close to half a pint, the amount in the vial was stunning. Twice as much as normal? Maybe more?

“Now, let me just get my stethoscope again. Arousal raises your heart rate, so I’ll wait for you to grow relaxed again before I take a measurement.

Amy stood in silence for a minute, leaving Stephen alone with his thoughts. What now? What was she going to do to him? How long was he going to be chained here? And if he ever became free again, where could he buy one of those massagers?

When Stephen’s pulse had calmed, Amy brought the cold metal circle to his sternum again. She smiled as she listened, then pulled the metal away when it grew warmer against his body.

“60 BPM! You’re cured. The prostate is a magical thing, isn’t it?”

Stephen, of course, knew that her medical pseudoscience wasn’t why his heart rate had slowed, but he just nodded in response.

“Well, it seems my work here is done. I’ll run a test on this semen tonight, but I don’t think it’ll show anything unusual. In the meantime, let me arrange for you to leave…” She reached down to the bag, and pulled out a syringe of clear liquid.

“You’ll feel a little pinch, then you’ll be out of here in no time…” She brought the syringe to his left arm, and pushed the needle into it. The pinch itself wasn’t too bad, but then came the familiar relaxing warmth, then the fogginess of mind, and his slowly blackening vision…

“Sweet dreams,” Amy said, and he blacked out.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Stephen awoke in the red chair again, and his eyes jolted open. Amy was in her white clothes again, typing on her computer in front of him. He himself was clothed, and perfectly clean, but his whole body felt a bit fuzzy.

Amy perked up. “Oh! You’re awake! Don’t worry, it’s normal to faint---”

“---What the hell just happened? What did you do?”

“Hey, take it easy,” Amy said. Her mouth was free of blood. “This is just a thing that happens all the time, don’t worry. People pass out all the time from needles.”

Stephen wanted to say so much more, but the words wouldn’t come out.

He calmed down. “Right, sorry,” he said. “I’m just a bit frazzled, and there was an odd dream, and I got a bit disoriented.” He felt a few bandaids on his shoulders, and one on his neck.

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. While you were asleep, I went ahead and gave you the remaining injections.” She laughed. “You won’t believe how big the Rubella one was!”

Stephen laughed with her. He saw a grandfather clock between two of the bookshelves: it was three in the afternoon. He had been unconscious for an hour.

“Just let me know if there are any side effects or allergies,” she said. “But, my work here is done: you can go ahead and leave, if you don’t have any questions.”

He did, but left anyway. “Thank you,” he said as he left through the door. Amy waved to him. This wasn’t the Amy that tormented him, certainly…

He went downstairs again, passed through the hallway, and waved the receptionist goodbye as he walked out the front door.

As Stephen drove home through crowded downtown traffic, he tried to confront the questions that had plagued him since his awakening. Was all that real? And could he really disbelieve what he had experienced with his own senses?

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Thank you for reading: I hope you liked it!