The Robust Doctor 6: the bodyguard

I spent the following days quite distressed. Yes, the bathroom thing had been the bomb at a sexual level, but at an emotional level, it had shaken my mental foundations. It had stirred something inside me, and I couldn't identify what it was. Well, rather, I knew but didn't want to face it.

The Doctor's words were like a wrecking ball that directly impacted the base of my existence: "This is what you are: a fucking hole for men like me to use to empty their balls." My cock got hard as if it had its own brain. What anger.

The sound of the intercom broke my bubble. I got up from the couch and, when I looked at the screen, my throat dried up. There he was, the damn Dr. Giant: at my portal, in my house. What the hell was he doing here? Of course, he had come because I had ignored the messages he had been sending me.

I studied him: he was as good-looking as ever, with his lumberjack face. As I didn't pick up the intercom, his face soon changed to that of a bastard. I saw him take something out of his pocket. He was... writing something? He put a post-it on the camera: "I know you're there. I see light. Open. Now."

Either the guy wrote in Swahili or it had to be the famous doctor's handwriting. I had to make an effort of creativity. I tilted my head. I narrowed my eyes. I invoked the Holy Spirit. Then I understood: "I know you're there. I see light. Open. Now."

"You're crazy," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You're not in a position to give me orders with two doors in between. Forget it."

I pressed the button to turn off the screen and went back to the couch. I pressed play on the remote control, and the series I was watching came back to life.

The doorbell rang again, this time more insistently. I didn't even get up.

And you, friends, must be thinking: what the hell is this guy doing? Why doesn't he open the door so that this dream mastodon can give him a good injection of vitamins? Well, because I didn't feel like it, that's all.

Yes, it's true: I'm very much of a slut, but very dignified; that guy fucks like a damn God, but I'm a real person, and my mind was short-circuiting. Literally. No matter how much it irritated him, the Doctor was going to have to wait. And if he didn't want to, he could find someone else, surely he had a harem of fags with infarct bodies waiting for him on all fours with their ass ready to receive his vitamins.

To hell with it.

The next day, before going to work, I looked out the window to see if the doctor was waiting for me on the street. Yes, he was. I was getting a bit paranoid, but I was scared of running into him suddenly. Fortunately, he didn't appear.

In the afternoon, I went to the gym. I got out of the pool after finishing my swimming routine and headed to the spa: a smaller pool filled with hydro-massage jets and bubble benches.

As I was going down the spa stairs, my hairless chest was rising and falli...