I heard that ping noise that always gets my attention. I have it set up to alert me immediately, whenever I get a new form submitted to my Doctor Experience email. I set up a website with a form to fill in all the details that my patients want.
This wasn't a request from a previous patient. I have a few who have requested more appointments or who wanted to try it again but with things done differently.
I read through all the details. He wants me to be Dr. Adam. Some patients have really specific requests, and he wants me to have a mustache. Good thing I've let my stubble grow for a while now and I just have to shave it down, because the email says the only availability is over the weekend; probably visiting the area for work or a vacation.
And I'm supposed to already know my patient, Jim, but it'll be my first time meeting his son, Dave. I wonder if those are their real names and what their situation actually is.
Trouble walking, leg cramps, and I'll have to get him naked, but only him. And I'm supposed to be in scrubs; that'll be nice, not having to wear a tie or that white coat, now that it's getting warmer.
I'm getting excited thinking about it. I confirm the appointment for Saturday morning and then take some time for myself in my office thinking about it. I'm surrounded by all my doctor stuff that I set up in the side room of my house, with its own entrance. I even have a little sign that I hang up when someone's coming in.
Now it's Saturday and I'm shaved down to a mustache, and I comb my hair a little different. I put on some dark blue scrubs with the V-neck shirt showing some chest hair and tucked into the pants with a knot in the elastic cords that hang at my waist. I didn't bother with underwear, and it's a very comfortable costume for the day.
I hear a car drive in, and I peek out the window to get a look. They walk in the side entrance, no limping in sight. They dressed the part, with "Jim" in a button up shirt and khakis and dress shoes, while his son "Dave" is in a Tshirt and shorts and some big basketball Reeboks, a baseball cap.
I have a "waiting room" area set up with chairs and magazines. Patients seem to like everything feeling as real as I can make it. I step out from the exam room, looking down at a folder with colored tabs.
When I look up, I give them a big grin like a friend I haven't seen in years, "Jimmy! How you been?! And this can't be Dave? He's gotten so big!" I say that I've only seen pictures. He calls me Doctor Adam several times.
There's a lot of handshaking and eyeing me up and down. I made sure that my scrubs fit me just right and show off my arms, and I pumped up a bit before meeting them, so that my biceps and forearms look really firm. They glance at each other, approvingly.
The son looks about four years younger than the dad, even with the clothes helping, but it's clear that they picked what they like, and I have hours blocked off for them to enjoy themselves. I wave them into the exam room.
Then the limping happens. Suddenly, there's pain, and the son has to help. I sweep in too, and we're all draped over each other, arms over shoulders and hands grazing. Without anything under my scrubs, I can feel their bodies against mine, my hand held tight against ribs and with flesh pressed on top, my hip against his hip and our legs brushing against each other.
He's up on the padded exam table, and the paper makes crinkly noises under him as he positions himself. My hand is on his leg. Yes, right there. That's the spot. He relaxes as we talk, and his son sits in a low chair off to the side, his shorts stretched tight as his legs lean out to each side. His Tshirt is tight against his body.
They look around the room. It's almost the real deal. I have all the supplies around the room and charts on the wall. I got some diplomas in frames. And I'm trying to play doctor, the soothing voice and questions, the confident smile. I take his pulse, and it's a little fast from excitement, like mine.
I take my little flashlight pen and examine his eyes and in his ears and mouth. He's cleaned himself up for the day. I can feel eyes watching us from behind, fidgeting and adjusting. I take the waist of my scrubs and roll them over once, making everything a little tighter on me. I know that my ass looks great. I don't do a hundred squats every day for nothing.
"I'd like to get you on the scale, if we can," I say. He must be feeling a little better now, and he kicks his shoes off and peels his socks and stands on my big scale while I stand very close to him and adjust the weights. They clank, and I can hear him inhale. I have a cologne on but just a bit, so the smell is subtle and only when I'm close. I pat him on the back. We're old friends, of course.
He stands up straight as I pull out the bar to gauge his height, and it feels like he's under my control. I try to sense if he likes that feeling, giving in to me. He might benefit from some hypnosis during a future appointment.
When he climbs back up onto the edge of the exam table, his legs over the edge, I take the rubbery stethoscope from around my neck and ask him to unbutton his shirt a bit for me. He undoes three buttons, and my hand snakes its way in, pressing the flat against his chest hair, and he reacts to the touch and the cold and to my other hand on his elbow. I slowly move it around and listen. His heart is pounding pretty heavy, actually.
"Let me have you take that off all the way, if you don't mind, so I can listen to your lungs." He says okay like it's no big deal. We're both talking very in very familiar and friendly upbeat tones, while junior is slunked in the corner and watching, occasionally reaching into his pocket for something.
The skin comes out as the shirt gets untucked and flayed open. I reach out to take it from him and walk away with it, so they can look at me and at each other behind my back. I can feel the energy in the room shift for him and for all of us, with the beginning of nudity.
When I return, my hand is on his bare shoulder, and my stethoscope is back on his chest, with a stray finger grazing by his nipple. "Breathe in?" I repeat a few times, repositioning. Then it's on his back, colder. Again, again, with each time I ask, he breathes in and then out slowly, his frame pulling in and up, stretching his muscles.
"Okay, let's have you lie back, and I'm going to pull this out," I say, meaning the table's extension that supports his legs and feet. Now he's flat and looking up at me and then over at Dave, who is intently watching.
I set my fingers down onto soft skin and roll around, pressing gently but firmly, asking if there's any pain. He moans slightly, guiding me lower. That's where he reacts. I ask if it's okay if I undo his belt. He gives me permission and watches as I reach towards his midsection and adjust his belt and slide it out and set it aside with his shirt.
His khakis are looser, and my fingers slide around the smooth skin and bony ridges near his waistline. I tell him that I'm just going to open these up, and he watches as I undo the button and slide down the zipper and fold back the fabric and press down my fingers near where hair starts and goes lower against paler, softer, smoother, hidden skin.
The fabric stops just above revealing anything. The metal teeth of the zipper look cold and sharp. He has no underwear underneath. My fingers go lower, to his leg, and the slick canvas fabric, with a muscle under, and I hold that muscle. He reacts with a pained look and an exhale. "Ooh, right there."
I knead it, with both hands exploring and assessing, and then with one hand up on the skin of his abdomen below his ribs that rise with each breath and settle with each exhale.
His hands are flat at his sides, so one is directly between us. I step closer so that my crotch glides against it. With no underwear to contain my dick, it's gotten longer and harder and noticeable, but hidden from view where I'm standing. His eyes dart over, but his hand doesn't react. He looks up. We lock eyes before I look back at his leg and lean over into it a bit more, stepping back and then closer.
He doesn't want me to whip anything out or make this outright sexual. I can tell. There's two types of guys in the world; those who fast-forward through the first part of porn, and those like us three who enjoy the situation, the set-up, the build, the tease.
"I'm thinking it's a ligament issue. I should be able to take care of that pain for you today. I think I need to get you out of those, but I don't have a hospital gown for you to put on."
"Oh, that's okay doctor. I don't mind."
I say, "And would you prefer to have your son wait outside?"
"No, that's okay. I don't mind."
The son just keeps watching. I say that that's fine, a healthy attitude towards it, and refreshing lately. I walk over to the door to make sure that I locked it, and I let the front of my scrubs be stared at. Then I clean my hands again and let them share looks and reactions behind my back, before we proceed.
When I turn around, the front of the son's silky shorts looks much like the front of my scrubs. I reach up to get some paper towels that I put on a high shelf, so that my shirt can come untucked and expose a little skin, and then I can retuck it and retie the drawstring, seemingly unaware of their stares.
"Okay pal, let me just slide these off for you," I say as I step over to the exam table. His back arches as his khakis slide down his body, revealing his crotch and thighs and knees and ankles. I help them off and set them with his clothes.
The table is angled just enough that his waist down to his feet is slightly higher in elevation, and so when I roll my fingers in a grip on his leg, his dick flops up against his belly, upside-down, and flops left right left right as I massage his thigh. He closes his eyes and moans under his breath.
"Is that it? Right here?," I ask, squeezing his big leg muscle, his firm swollen rectus femoris muscle, with one hand while my other is between his legs, letting a cool touch tickle upwards and end just below his scrotum.
He nods. I let my peripheral vision take in that his son is tugging and breathing heavily. My massage treatment is slowly making my patient relax, and his dick is getting fuller and longer and waving back and forth without me having to touch it, and it flexes.
I get so hot and hard knowing that I'm making them hot, and I can feel the precum slicking my dick as it bumps around in my scrubs, knocking against the table's padded edge and his firm forearm, as I move around.
I want to do more and go crazy, but it is hot too, not acknowledging it, pretending like this is just a normal physical exam. If I just started jerking him off or anything more, it would break the fantasy. I like that I can't take my clothes off, that I can't touch my hard dick with my hands, and I can tell that he likes edging until his brain goes to mush and his dick explodes on his own. I do that too.
"Let me just move your leg out a bit like this," I ask, kneading out the knot in his muscle while I turn his thigh toward me and up slightly. His other leg leans away, and his thighs are spread. My fingers are near his ass but never getting too close, except accidentally of course. I grind my cock into his shin a little.
His breathing is heavier. His dick is swaying and swatting, and I can feel his urge to grab it and pound away. I let him feel that for a long time, while we're watched, muffled grunts by the door. I don't look.
"Mmpphh, mmmmm, yes, oh," the façade fades a little as we let ourselves grunt and groan. Then a squirt, more, a burble erupts out and glazes down.
I let myself push into the padding, gritting my teeth under my lip as I soak my scrubs. I know that it'll be a huge stain that they'll notice and then pretend not to notice, and that they'll think about it later.
I slow my massage, now that I alleviated the condition, and glance at the man seated by the door and the stain he soaked through his shorts.
"Well! I think that got the knot out, Jim. I'm gonna let you get dressed, and you just go right ahead and schedule another appointment if you need it, if Dave needs a physical for any sports, anything at all. Great to see you again, and it was nice to meet you Dave. You guys take care, alright? Bye."
Just another day for the doctor.