The Doctor Robusto 2: rectoscopy

After my prostate review with Dr. Robusto, I spent the week driving myself crazy.

I'm not going to be a hypocrite: the experience with that guy had been one of the best of my life. I couldn't stop reminiscing about it over and over like that Mariah Carey song that's everywhere at Christmas. That forbidden morbidity in the office... That way of fucking you without asking... That feeling of being filled to the limit...

My cock was getting hard enough to crack nuts.

On the other hand, I couldn't ignore that the bastard was a man without scruples. Not only because he skipped the consent that can be expected between two people having sex, but because he pissed on the Hippocratic oath that every decent doctor should respect.

The guy had impregnated me without the slightest qualm. When I got home, I was scared shitless. Then I thought that, being a doctor, the giant must be clean. Even if it was just out of professional deformation, he should take care of his health. That calmed me down a bit.

The week passed and my cell phone vibrated from the dining table to take me out of my thoughts. It was a text message:

"ANGEL, we have received the appointment request from Dr. ROBUSTO for your rectoscopy at 19:45 on Friday. If you cannot attend, cancel or modify your appointment at this link."

I was sitting on the couch in my dining room, and I exclaimed:

"Rectoscopy? Of course, Dr. Robusto! Bastard... How I'd love to punch your bloody mouth with that prepotent look you have."

Suddenly I was shivering as if I had typhoid fever accompanied by palpitations in my ass. Friday at 19:45 was exactly 24 hours away.

"Damn it!" I shouted out loud, angry. I was definitely losing my mind. I threw the cell phone against the couch and took a deep breath. "Okay, Angel, think a bit, just a bit, okay? But with the head from above, if possible." That guy reeked of danger in capital letters.

It was clear that I couldn't go back to the doctor's office. I picked up the cell phone and canceled the appointment. I was done. Suddenly I felt relieved, although I felt a pinch of regret. I took that pinch and mentally trampled it until reducing it to dust that a gust of imaginary wind blew away.

"Okay, see you later, Dr. Robusto. It was exciting while it lasted."

I turned on the TV and put on a zombie series. Not even 5 minutes had passed when my cell phone vibrated again:

"ANGEL, we have received the appointment request from Dr. ROBUSTO for your rectoscopy at 19:45 on Friday. If you cannot attend, cancel or modify your appointment at this link."

"Damn it!" I exclaimed. The phone slipped out of my hands as if it were on fire and fell to the carpet. I looked at it as if it were one of those Japanese horror movies that I love, where a curse chases you through the cell phone until it screws you, literally. Except in my case, it would be literal.

Angry,...