I showed up exactly on time.
Not early. Not late. Right on the dot, because I didn’t want to look overeager, and I definitely didn’t want to look like I’d forgotten again. The door to the shared workspace was open. I stepped in.
Jewel was waiting.
The new Physician's Assistant here at FHMA.
Right away I was struck by how tall she was. Not quite Melissa’s height, but easily approaching it and therefore one of the largest women here. Standing with her back to the desk, facing the doorway - facing me - it looked like she’d been perfectly staged for some kind of pharmaceutical ad campaign designed by either Hooters or something even more demonic. My nerves had immediately jumped - but when she smiled, it was the kind of smile that made my skin go warm at the base of my neck.
“Hi, Dr. J!!”
Her voice practically bounced. Bright, chipper, perfectly pitched and utterly disarming. She was in a tailored dark blazer over a white blouse that was - let’s say, uh, ‘generously unbuttoned‘ - low enough to frame a vertical window of deep, eye-trapping cleavage that glowed with the warm tone of her young, perfectly caramel skin. The sight made my eyes goggle and fall immediately to her chest. Her chest - good god, her chest - was a spectacle. High, impossibly full, and so front-and-center it felt like walking headfirst into a trap. The fabric of the blouse clung to her torso like a second skin, and the sharp lines of the jacket only drew the eye harder to what was already impossible to ignore.
Below, a matching dark skirt went just below mid-thigh, showcasing legs that didn’t just look sculpted - they looked engineered. Long, firm, athletically muscular. And the heels…well, at the height she stood she must be wearing them, I figured, but I wasn’t even going to look.
“Uh…hi, Jewel.”
She tilted her head, blonde-crowned with dark lowlights, bit her lip in a pause, and made a mock-pout. “Hmm. I think I actually prefer ‘Ms. Montgomery‘. It’s more appropriate for the office.” Her grin widened, eyes glittering, accent playing a musical lilt into her words.. “I’ll call you ’Dr. J’, and you call me ’Ms. Montgomery’. That okay, ja?”
“S-sure,” I answered, compliantly. Not lost on me was the feeling that one of those monikers sounded professional, and the other sounded like a pet name.
“Why don’t you close the door?” she asked, “So we won’t be disturbed.”
I turned. I closed the door.
She clapped her hands once, gently, and smiled even wider. We were now in here alone. “Great, Dr. J! Ready for your AegisEHR lesson?”
“Y-yeah.” That’s why I was here, to learn the best way to use this new “Aegis” electronic health records system, which was the new package the entire facility would be using.
But I didn’t move.
I was still standing just inside the doorway, suddenly regretting ever agreeing to do this. The tablet the staff had given me this morning to carry around felt now like a security blanket. My mouth was dry. My brain had gone to static. Pretty girls did this to me.
She moved first. Pivoted on one sharp heel, took two steps and sat herself - as delicately as a woman her size and hip girth could - into one of two desk chairs at the first workstation. The green balloons still floated alongside it, and the still half-full plate of cookies sat next to the keyboard. She patted the seat next to herself with a warm look that made it feel like I was being invited into something much more dangerous than an EHR software training session.
But still I didn’t move.
I was standing there in the doorway like a deer in headlights, clutching my tablet case to my chest like it might protect me. And in a way, maybe I needed it to.
She patted the chair beside her again. “Come, sit,” she insisted, with the same dazzling smile that sparkled with a bit more than just mischief, “Don’t make me come get you.”
That got my feet moving, though I’m not proud of how unsteady they felt. I crossed the space slowly, the sound of her heels tapping faintly on the flooring as she pivoted in her seat. I tentatively took the chair next to her, hopping into it and trying to be careful not to look too directly at her legs.
I looked right at her legs.
Skirt. Tight. And now riding further up her thighs. Her thighs - absurdly toned, bronzed, and curving with the sort of precision that could, I figured, only have come from hours in the gym and the gift of remarkable genetics - they were crossed delicately as she tilted one foot back and forth on a stiletto that had absolutely no business being worn in a clinic. My eyes looked at her shapely foot, traced the lines of her thin ankle, the cords running up to her bulging calve. Back to her thighs. Then finally I was able to tear my eyes away and-
And she was looking right at me, with a little smirk.
My heart dropped. I forced myself to stop looking at her legs, or her chest, or... anywhere, really, besides the desk. I felt so awkward, and had blushed.
She let the silence linger just long enough, the crime of my obvious ogle going so far unspoken, before tapping the desk beside her.
“Dr. J, are you looking at my cookies?”
I blinked, and looked up at her. “S-sorry, what?” I finally managed.
“My cookies,” she repeated, now pushing the ceramic plate of chocolate chip cookies, partially covered with crumbs, towards me. “I heard you liked them this morning, looks like you ate a few,” she added sweetly, “I told no one else to touch them. I made them just for you.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, remembering how delicious they were, the first solid food I’d really been able to enjoy for a while now, “Yeah. They were…really good.”
She pushed the plate a little closer, nudging it towards me. They were soft, sugary things, still looking fresh and somehow even more appetizing than they had this morning. I hadn’t expected to be able to eat anything solid today, let alone a cookie. But the first one I’d tried earlier? It had gone down really easy.
“I didn’t make them too big. Perfect for little fingers,” she continued cheerily, “before we get started, you should have another.”
There were maybe five left.
“For energy, Dr. J. I need you sharp, ja?”
As delicious as they looked - and even with the rumble my stomach gave - I hesitated. If I was a better listener I’d have heard the alarm bell going off inside me.
“I want you to eat one.”
I shouldn’t have - now I know, I really shouldn’t have - but I picked one up delicately, like it was some sacred offering.
“Open up.”
“Wh-what?”
She leaned in slightly. Her perfume hit me like a warm, floral fog and her cleavage - pressed into a soft, hugely inviting bloom in the neckline of her open blouse - beckoned my eye. It struck me at that moment that the cookie in my hand was just about the same golden shade as her caramel skin. It must be so warm in there…
“Open up,” she said, “I made them just for you.”
She smiled when, without another thought, I took a bite.
Soft. Sweet. A touch of salt. With some subtle earthy flavor I couldn’t quite place. Familiar, though. Weirdly comforting.
“See?” she chuckled warmly, watching me chew, then swallow. “You’re already learning...” Her smile, as I looked up at her, was now wide - dazzling, even - and her presence somehow filled the space more completely than it seemed it should. Casually, she pressed her breasts together more firmly between her arms, causing her bosom to bulge even bigger. “…that I’m a very good cook.”
I’d really, I knew, only started to realize what a pure physical marvel this woman was. So gorgeous, sunny, with prominent dimples adding warmth and expressiveness to her face. They were dimples that became especially noticeable when she smiled - like she was doing, at me, right now. Her mouth, in that smile, was strikingly large, with full lips that enhanced her dynamic facial expressions. The size of her mouth gave her a naturally engaging and expressive look, making her features stand out even more, particularly when she spoke.
“Have another bite,” she urged me.
Her eyes widened as I nibbled the cookie again, and glimmered as I took note of her well-defined jawline, which tapered elegantly and gave her face a balanced and sculpted appearance. She watched my eyes look down her neck, long and graceful, with a naturally shapely contour that accentuated her poise. She tilted her chin up, elongating her neck even further and giving her an elegant, almost regal presence, complementing her expressive face - which still watched me - and adding to her overall refined look.
I felt my eyes being pulled down, to her strong collarbone, and knew the temptation of what lay just below, a darkly magnetic cavern full of soft comfort. I knew if I let my gaze drop lower and sink into its bulges, it may never emerge. And so, with pure force of will, I clamped my eyes shut.
I heard her giggle.
“Dr J,” she purred, “are you usually this quiet around a lady? Or is it just me, eh?”
I opened my eyes, casting my gaze askew, and mumbled something about the cookie, and my mouth being full. I also found myself taking another bite.
She watched me chew with a glowing, satisfied grin and eyes that glimmered, knowing something I didn’t. “Speaking of ladies,” she said, her voice low and smooth as satin, “where’s Melissa today?”
I blinked. “Oh - uh, she had something this morning,” I said, trying to recall, “I think… an appointment? Not sure where she is now. Probably the other wing?”
Jewel gave a slow, thoughtful nod. Then, with a mischievous grin etching her dimples, she tilted her head. “So, I’ve got you all to myself?”
I swallowed, hearing in her tone a new, syrupy, unspoken portent that brought a noticeable change to the charge of energy in the room. “I guess so…”
Her smile widened, became brilliant. “Lucky me, I’ll have all your attention,” she said, pushing an errant curl behind her left ear, “and you’ll have all of mine. Every. Little. Drop.” Her tone was teasing, just shy of suggestive. “I made sure the schedulers gave us a right proper window. Blocked off our patient slots.” She leaned forward slightly, her elbow resting near the keyboard. “Didn’t want to rush this.”
I nodded dumbly. My mouth was dry, my palms already clammy. And her perfume - honeyed floral, with something a little warmer underneath - was even stronger in here then yesterday when we’d first met, when she came into my exam room. Now it clung to the air like heat. I don’t think I was imagining the way it tugged at my focus, either, along with the temptations of her figure..
“Now,” she said, spinning herself gently toward the monitor, and turning my chair, too, “let’s get started.” She glanced at me sideways, arching a perfectly shaped brow. “Are you ready for your lesson, Dr. J?”
“Y-yeah.” I forced a swallow.
Jewel tapped the keyboard with one manicured finger, waking up the workstation. “Okay, first things first, ja? Let’s look quick at the desktop system then we’ll move on to the tablet, which is much easier, and uses the imbedded AI better. Here we are: AegisEHR log-in. Do you remember how to do that?”
I hesitated. I didn’t. Not really. But I didn’t want to look completely useless.
“I… think so,” I said.
She leaned in slightly, down aside me - close enough that her left arm brushed my right one - and angled the monitor toward me. “Here,” she said gently, “start with your clinic ID. Right here.” She pointed, slowly, like she was teaching a kindergartner where to write their name on a worksheet.
Her voice stayed soft and unhurried, her breath just a touch warm against my cheek. I managed to enter the ID, followed by my password, her shoulder grazing mine again as she watched over me.
“Gooood,” she cooed, like I’d just tied my shoes properly for the first time. “See? You’re already learning.”
I could barely hear her over the pulse in my ears, and couldn’t help but notice the view I would have - with just a little glance to my right - down her top. Jesus this woman was attractive, and her perfume was absolutely everywhere now. I tried to focus on the screen as she showed me how to navigate the Aegis interface with its pale green dashboards and tabs - but really all I could do was feel her beside me. So much of her. The warmth of her hip, the curve of her thigh just beyond the hem of that tight skirt.
“Very good,” she said again, praising some task I’d just accomplished, and smiled when I thanked her.
The lesson began in earnest.
Jewel walked me through the layout of AegisEHR with a kind of practiced, patient ease that honestly surprised me. She kept her tone light, never condescending, never rushed. It was the kind of calm attentiveness I hadn’t realized I needed - especially considering how overwhelming this whole system looked when I’d first opened it yesterday. Now it didn’t seem so bad.
She didn’t go over every single menu or button - thank god - but instead picked a few of my patient charts from yesterday and had me pull them up, clicking through tabs, adding quicknotes, selecting templates. She praised me when I remembered things on my own, gently corrected me when I didn’t.
At some point, without really thinking about it, I started to relax. Just a little.
And then, I did something right - clicked through a whole patient note entry solo, even adding a task and closing it out with a digital signature.
“Good job!” Jewel said brightly, her voice warm with approval.
I smiled, and blushed. I couldn’t help it - it just happened. A little reflexive, a little sheepish, but real.
That’s when she tilted her head, watching me closely. She smiled herself. “Do you like it when I praise you, Dr. J?”
I blinked, startled by the question. “Wh-what? I mean… I don’t - uh…” I laughed nervously, having let go of the work station’s mouse and wringing one hand in the other. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it.”
She didn’t blink, but her smile got bigger. “But you smiled. You looked really happy when I told you ‘good job’.”
My ears were burning. “I - well - it’s just nice to feel like I’m doing something right…”
“And being told that?”
“Yeah, I guess?”
Jewel’s expression softened. She reached out, lightly touching my forearm. “It’s okay, you know, liking my approval. I understand. Looking for praise from a woman is natural.” She said it without mockery, like it was just simple truth. “It can be a really positive motivator. Gentle. Encouraging. Kind.” She smiled again, that easy, dazzling smile. “I’ll make sure I do it more.”
And something in her tone - not playful this time, not teasing - made my chest tighten a little. Like she was actually promising something important. Like she meant it.
“Thank you,” I said, despite myself and the little twinge of submissive pleasure that exchange just brought.
“You deserve another cookie,” she said, and nudged the ceramic plate of cookies toward me, “for being so good.”
I looked at her, watched her honey-bright eyes sparkle again.
“Go on, eh?” she urged, her tone playful as she caught my wrist, gently, steering my hand to the plate herself, “Fuel for the brain.”
Not one to argue (these things really are good), I picked up another cookie and - with her hand still around my wrist, guiding me - brought it in for a bite. She made sure I finished it.
She watched me eat. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She chuckled.
“Wh-what?” I stammered, after I’d swallowed the last of the cookie, with its oddly familiar flavor. “What’s so funny?”
“I just like looking at you,” she said, directly, smiling and leaning in towards me a bit, ”To see how handsome you are.”
Alarm bells, again, were there, but their din seemed meager after the taste of that cookie and under her fawn-golden beauty. “You…think I´m handsome?” I asked, feeling suddenly shy.
“Aww, bokkie, you´re the most handsome man I´ve ever laid my eyes on,” she said plainly, watching how my heart began to beat faster inside my chest. “You know now, how women are all attracted to this new kind of man - small and little and skinny. Someone we can hold and carry and protect….Vulni.”
Urk. There was that term again, reminding me of my low-grade internet fame, my online moniker.
“And you’re just the perfect one,” she continued, her eyes dropping - just for a moment - to regard me from head to toe, all 4’2 1/2”, 65lbs of me, in my XXXS scrubs. They flashed again, with a hint of something less playful, and more…voracious. “I can’t keep my eyes off of you, Dr. J.” she added, finding control for her voice, biting her big bottom lip, “No girl could be expected to.” She took a moment to smooth her skirt over her big thighs. “But I know I have to remain professional, ja?”
“Ja,” I replied, unconsciously echoing her South African turn of phrase as I was once again looking at her legs.
That made her giggle.
“Let’s get back to work, bokkie,” she laughed, taming another mischievous curl back behind her ear, “I want to show you how the tablet works.”
The tablet was lighter than I remembered, once she put it in my hand. Jewel turned it toward me, tapping the screen with a single, perfectly manicured nail.
“Okay, Dr. J,” she said, her tone warm but with that same unnervingly silky confidence, “let’s switch gears. The tablet version of Aegis is way simpler. It’s mostly just tapping and voice dictation if you want it. How do they say it here, hm? ‘Easy-peasy’?”
”Easy…Peasy,” I echoed, making her giggle again and lean closer. Her scent - the honey, some vanilla, with a faint warmth - mingled with similar hints from the plate of cookies and slid through the air between us again. The simple motions of her body - the turn of shoulders, the shifting of thighs - drew my eyes before I could stop them. She didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she did and just didn’t care, as she dragged one long fingertip in a gentle curve across the tablet screen.
“Here,” she said, “you’re going to log in - just touch that square, yup, it recognizes you, with its camera - and then select today’s first patient. That’s it. Look at you, doctor!”
I blinked. I’d done it right.
“Good job,” she said, her voice suddenly lower, thicker.
And something in the way she said it again hit me right in the chest. Like it landed, like I was supposed to feel that. Her praise wrapped around the part of me that still needed to be told I was doing well.
I smiled - reflexively - and only realized it when I saw her notice. I knew what she was thinking: the praise, again. You like it, eh? I cleared my throat, suddenly flustered. “I - it’s just nice to feel like I’m not totally lost,” I mumbled, “I mean, I’ve never used this system before.”
She tilted her head again, eyes narrowing playfully. “You don’t have to explain it away. Everyone wants to be seen. Everyone wants to be told they’re doing well - especially men like you, from women like me.”
My cheeks flared, and I hated how fast they did. “Wh-what do you mean ‘men like me’?”
Her smile widened, and she leaned back ever so slightly, letting the moment breathe. “Smart. Sweet. Sensitive. You respond to attention, Dr. J. You crave approval and reassurance. That’s a good thing. It means you’ll learn faster. Praise is a powerful motivator…”
…from women like you, my inner voice finished for her, silently, as I watched her clip up the thick ringlets of her hair onto the back of her head, a move which demonstrated the fullness, the matronly immensity of her bosom on her otherwise thin ribcage. My hands - now a little clammy - hovered above the screen, unsure of where to go next.
“Hey, relax, eh?” She nudged me lightly with her left elbow, done with her hair. “You’re doing great. I told them you’d catch on quick.”
I looked at her. With her hair up, her long neck was now on an even more elegant display. “You…told who?”
“The girls, your friends,” she said vaguely, adjusting an earring, “some of the new staff. You’re kind of a hot topic, you know. They were curious if you were, like, actually sharp. Or just…” She trailed off, smile turning sly.
“Just… what?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Her golden gemstone eyes glimmered. “Just adorable.”
My throat tightened. My mind tried to argue. But somewhere deeper, the word - ‘adorable’ - landed too softly to fight. I hated how I didn’t hate it.
“Let’s keep going, eh?” she said sweetly, tapping the tablet again. “I want to show you how to pull up lab results...”
I nodded again, trying to focus - but I could feel the dumb grin I was trying to suppress pushing at the corners of my mouth.
More training, the particulars of lab results, the process of coding a visit. Jewel was right - it was easier on the tablet, and the AI was a huge help in efficiency. But having her help me through it made it easier still. I was able, even, to assign diagnoses to CPT codes myself with just a little bit of prompting.
“See? You’re doing so well!” Jewel lauded, putting her left arm around my shoulders, leaning down, and bringing me into a convivial embrace. Did she hear my breath catch, or see my eyes goggle when her big left breast squashed into my back? “I told you the cookies would help!” she laughed, letting me go, “let’s get you another.”
I looked at the plate. I couldn’t recall how many of these things I’d had since this morning. Four? Five? Whatever it was, Jewel seemed intent on me finishing the whole pile. There were still a few cookies left, and I did remember how tasty they were. I reached for another.
Her hand stopped me again, grabbing me by the wrist.
“No,” she said, her voice suddenly a command. Her eyes sparked and she let go of my wrist. She reached for the cookies, lifted one carefully from the plate, and then turned toward me, holding it between two fingers with theatrical care. “Open.”
I blinked at her. “Wait, what-?”
“You’ve got a long day ahead, and I’m supposed to be your assistant,” she said, “Let me take care of you a little. Just this once. Here…“
She moved the cookie towards me, golden eyes now alight with shimmering starlight.
“...this time, let me feed you.”
The cookie hovered near my mouth. I hesitated; she didn’t. Before I could object, she gently tapped the cookie to my lower lip. And, well…my mouth opened.
She slid it in.
She slid the cookie gently between my lips, fingertips grazing the corner of my mouth. And - god help me - I chewed. Warm. Soft.
Yum.
Why was I doing this? Letting her feed me, watching her like a kid with a crush and no frontal lobe? It didn’t make sense - but, jesus, it felt so easy. God help me I’d gotten used to Melissa feeding me, chewing food for me, even bottle-feeding me. I’d learn to accept food like this from women, and as humiliating as that should be, it had slowly become my norm. So what was the big deal here, right? But this, from my brand-new PA, felt different. Again, little alarm bells…which I ignored.
“Good boy,” she murmured, as I nibbled the last of the cookie from her hands.
I looked up at her, into her eyes, and as the cookie settled nicely into my stomach and its sugary magic went through my blood, I was now even more astounded by how attractive this girl was. Maybe it was because she now had her hair up, but her exquisite features looked even more regal, more perfectly symmetric. Her skin was a flawless shade of warm caramel, smooth and radiant, with a natural glow that made her look as if she were always lit by the perfect golden-hour lighting.
“We should continue, eh?” she smiled, her grin more than aware of how dazzled I was.
I couldn’t, in fact, keep her eye, and when I muttered something, my consent, yes we should continue, I did so after my eyes had fallen, and I was once again looking at her crossed legs. Her skirt had ridden up a bit, and her thighs looked massive, muscular, and shapely. Smooth and bulging with strength.
“Sorry about my legs,” she said, catching me glancing at her mostly bare lap, “They keep distracting you.” She made a play at tugging the hem of her skirt down, which honestly did nothing to hide anything and rather just kept my attention on her thighs. “I’ll wear something with a longer skirt tomorrow.”
“No - it’s okay,” I blurted, too quickly, as I watched her brush at the fabric of her skirt in mock modesty, “You don’t have to change anything.” Oh no why did I say that! “I- mean, uh… you look fine. Great, even. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just-”
“It’s just that you like my legs?” she finished for me, arching a brow and then giggling softly. “And you were staring, eh?”
My mouth opened, closed. No good answer. But for Pete’s sake I still couldn’t peel my eyes off her legs. Her short skirt rode high on her thighs as she leaned back in her chair, seemingly entirely unbothered by modesty.
“That’s okay, Dr. J,” she said sweetly, “I don’t mind giving you something to stare at.” Then, with the practiced ease of someone who knew exactly what she was doing, she stretched out her left leg, which by god was nearly as long as I was tall. The motion was deliberate, and her toned quads flexed beneath the hem of her skirt, a subtle ripple of muscle that betrayed both power and poise. Then, shifting again with a languid smile, she re-crossed at the knee, the way old Hollywood actresses did in glossy studio portraits - ankle dangling, calf tilted just so, toes pointed like a dancer's. The move was pure cheesecake, but updated for a new kind of femininity, one that combined seduction with a flex, a show of an unmistakable physical dominance.
I swallowed. “I mean - they’re…” How could I say this? I remembered seeing “Body Building” (strangely, with the space between those two words) listed as an ‘interest’ on her LinkedIn page. With a physique like hers, that’d be no surprise. “Y-you must work hard,” I managed, as she continued to twirl her foot, flex her shapely calf, “You should be proud. They’re, uh, impressive.”
To that, Jewel just laughed
“Thank you doll but ‘work hard’? Like, at the gym? Me?” she chuckled, bringing a hand to her chest, “Well, what if I told you I barely do anything?” Her smile widened. “What if I told you I spend most of the day sitting on my big butt doing nothing. What if I told you I spend all day eating what I want, as much as I want, and still I have…”
She kicked out a perfect gam again, for my approval, then the other.
“...these?” With that she pulled up on her skirt so I could really appreciate the immensity of her thigh.
And then she flexed.
My eyes went wide at its size and shocking musculature. It was a thigh that could have been sculpted by some daring new goddess of biology. It was enormous, yes - but not in a way that suggested bulk for bulk’s sake. It was dense, functional, symmetrical, a study in hypertrophied female anatomy. The rectus femoris, running like a bold seam down the center of her anterior thigh, stood prominently, visible even through the soft sheen of her skin. It thickened noticeably as she tensed, anchoring the broader quadriceps femoris beneath it like the prow of a ship. Just lateral to that, the vastus lateralis bulged outward with a proud curve, startling in its definition, flaring out before narrowing toward the knee.
On the medial side, the vastus medialis - the teardrop-shaped muscle just above the knee - was shockingly pronounced. When she flexed, the muscle swelled like it was eager to announce its strength, the separation between it and the surrounding tissue clear and deep. No trace of softness blurred the edge where it met the knee - just a perfect topography of female muscular power.
Behind that curtain of quadriceps, though not fully visible, the hamstring group made its presence known through the sheer density pressing outward at the back of the thigh. The biceps femoris, the semitendinosus, the semimembranosus - they were all there, implied by the tension and fullness of the upper leg as it met the curve of her glute. A glute which, though only glimpsed from the seated position, suggested further hypertrophy and strength. The iliotibial band running down the lateral thigh was taut, cleanly defined beneath the skin like the edge of a drawn bowstring.
The skin itself - smooth, with a warm, even tone - stretched seamlessly over the muscle beneath, catching the overhead lights and making the entire thigh seem like something forged rather than grown. Not a single blemish. Not a hint of cellulite. This wasn’t the leg of just an athlete in training, I thought, with an audible - this was the limb of a new archetype.
Where the fuck did this woman come from??
“Not a day in the gym for these,” she repeated for me, watching my awe, “but oh my goodness imagine if I did start working out? Lifting heavy? Made every day ‘leg day’? Started getting really…big…gains?” She flexed again, making me picture it. “Imagine my legs then?””
“Urk.” Yeah, I actually said: ‘urk’. I couldn’t help but marvel at her, at it. Not because her leg was beautiful (though it was), and not because it was unusual (though it was, uh, that too). But because it represented a future, a quiet, powerful, terrifyingly beautiful future - and it was sitting right here, cross-legged in a pencil skirt, entirely at ease with its own ascending design.
”You…you m-must have incredible genetics, if y-you don’t go to the gym,” I stammered, trying to recover and not sound too agog at the perfection of her legs.
“Maybe…” she smiled, with something else obviously being left unsaid. “Anyway. How about we stop with the anatomy lesson and continue with Aegis, eh? And maybe we should get you sitting somewhere where my ’genetics’ won’t be a distraction-”
Before I could respond, she reached out with sudden, casual strength - hands on my knees - and gently shifted me in my chair, spinning the chair towards her.
Then she sat back and patted her thighs. “Come on, Dr. J. Sit properly. We’ll make this work.”
I blinked. “Wait - what?”
But I barely had time to register what was happening before she had hands at my sides and scooped me - effortlessly - and put me onto her lap, sideways across it.
“Omig-g-god, w-wait!”
It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t even overtly forward. It was just…easy. Like she had lifted a cat off a couch. Like I weighed nothing. She adjusted her chair again, scooting closer to the desk so the tablet was within reach and I was pinned in, to her. Her arms bracketed me lightly.
“There. Better, right?” she said sweetly.
I was trying to form a coherent thought. Yes, Melissa had me on her lap all the time these days. But this was different - I’d just met this woman! The casualness of her picking me up and sitting me on her lap was surreal. It made me feel absurdly small. Not just short, not just light - but like a toy. Like I was barely a person, like I didn’t even occupy real space.
I was still adjusting to the surreal weight of being seated across her lap like some sort of oversized doll when I felt her shift slightly beneath me. One of her arms reached casually across to the keyboard of the desktop workstation, which had gone into sleep mode during our time on the tablet. The screen came to life when she tapped something, and she opened the browser.
“Oh,” she said lightly, pulling down a menu in settings, eyes scanning the history, “I noticed this earlier. Looks like someone was googling this morning. Googling me…”
My stomach dropped. She had my search history pulled up.
I looked at the list of terms I’d used at this workstation earlier, trying to find an internet presence for her, for this new PA with whom I’d be working. The first few were not entirely damning: ‘Jewel Montgomery, PA-C’, ’’Jewel Montgomery South Africa’, ‘Jewel Montgomery Instagram’.
“…was it you?”
The next entries on the list made my skin go cold, my face go hot as I remembered typing them: ’Jewel Montgomery model’, ‘Jewel Montgomery bikini” ‘Jewel Montgomery sexy’.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” she continued straightforwardly, armed with her facts, “I know you were in here at the hot desk during these times…”
“I - I was just -” I turned, horrified, trying to wriggle off her lap, but her left arm - across my chest to the keyboard on the desk - kept me gently but firmly in place.
“Looking for what, exactly?” Her tone was soft, curious, not accusatory. But somehow, that made it worse.
“I, uh, u-usually look into new staff,” I said quickly. “It’s just s-something I do, part of…like…onboarding. P-professional curiosity.”
“Oh I see,” she said, patiently letting me dig my own hole, arching one perfect brow, “and was it ‘professional curiosity’ that had you using these search terms here - ’Jewel Montgomery hips’? ‘Jewel Montgomery busty‘? Or…ooo this is a good one! ‘Jewel Montgomery big boob giantess’?”
“Oh - oh god I can explain..!”
There was no way I could explain this.
“It’s okay, it’s what you knew about me, the only thing, after having met me the first time yesterday. My appearance,” she said, the tolerance in her voice making me feel even smaller than I already did, “It’s natural for a guy. Especially if you’re - like you said - looking up someone who’s going to be on your staff.”
“Y-yeah but I’m sorry th-“
“But…technically, I’m not really your staff, am I?” she said, with a new curl to her lip, shifting her big hips in her seat so as to make me inch closer into her. She then reached into the inside pocket of her blazer - pushing out her big left breast with the effort - and produced something laminated, glossy and new. A nametag, on a lanyard. “They’re going to have us all wearing these, soon. This is mine…”
She held it out for me to read....
I stared at it for a second longer than I should have. My heart had already dropped out of my chest from being caught with a dirty search history, and now I was struggling to keep my jaw off the floor.
“I got it printed this morning,” she said sweetly, apparently now unperturbed that I’d been stalking the internet for her earlier, “Pretty nice, right?” She turned the nametag slowly in her fingers, letting the light catch the print. Then she looked at me with that familiar little glint in her eye.
“Y-you’re the lead in this clinic now?” I stammered. Maybe I should have been relieved that we’d moved on from my Google mischief, but my hankles were now up. I figured: if anyone was going to be in charge of Geriatr- of FHMA, especially now that Olivia had moved on and was Director of the medical staff of the entire facility - it would be me!
“Technically, yes - I’m still a PA,” she said, her tone light, casual, “But as Clinic Lead, I’ll also be handling coordination for the whole practice. Stuff you wouldn’t want to do anyway. Things like staff scheduling, managing patient flow, resource allocation. And, of course, supporting the physicians….”
I looked up at her, acutely feeling the warmth and strength of her solid thighs below me shifting, just a bit.
She smiled. “…and that means you.”
I blinked. “Wait - so…do I report to you?”
“Well, not entirely, eh?” she laughed, her tone breezy, dismissive, “But in a lot of ways, ja. When it comes to operations, at least. Making sure you’ve got the patients you need, the time you need, the support staff you need.” Her eyes flicked to mine, teasing. “All of that runs through me. If you need something, you just have to ask…”
Looking down at me, her golden eyes flashed.
“…nicely.”
My mouth went dry again. I swallowed. Something quivered in my belly. And started to harden down my leg. “Oh. Okay.”
“I’m going to take my job seriously,” she added, tilting her head, still fixing me with her intense gaze, “and that includes making sure your work environment is as perfect as possible. I want you comfortable, productive. Happy.” Her voice dropped just slightly. “Well cared for.”
There it was again - that warmth in her tone that made the back of my neck feel hot. ’Well cared for’. My mind reeled at the phrase, at everything it could mean, and everything it probably already did.
She smiled as she felt the tension shift in me.
“So,” she said, tucking the badge away, and picking up the tablet again, swiping the EHR active, “Let’s make sure we get you through this training, hmm? I want to be sure you feel ‘supported’. Dr. J, Melissa may take care of you when you’re with her, but when you’re here in Geriatrics that’s my job. I’m sure Melissa would-“
A red envelope icon had shown up onscreen. She cocked her head at it.
“Oh, speaking of…”
An alert, for me, a pop-up in the corner of the tablet:
Oh jeez what could this be, was my immediate thought. It was, actually though, a little weirdly comforting, just seeing her name.
“Good,” Jewel said, already reaching to tap the alert, “this will give us a chance to work with the direct messaging system, ja? Have you used it yet?”
I remember just yesterday, the weird DM exchange I had with Rina. “I have,” I answered, “but just on the desktop.”
“OK let’s work with it on the tablet.”
Jewel leaned in toward the tablet screen and - the scent of her perfume already surrounding me like an invisible fog - her breasts pressed into my left side and upper back. Without a thought to my privacy, she was about to open the message.
She hummed thoughtfully, then turned her eyes on me.
“You’re squirming,” she said.
“I’m - what?”
“Squirming,” she repeated, tone light but sure, “That’s no way to learn.”
I tried to focus on the screen, and ignore the bulge of softness against my back, upper arm and shoulder. The red envelope sat there under her fingertip.
She tapped it open.
Melissa Monroe - Today, 11:39 AM
Hey babe! Just a heads uppp – I gotta run to Evolutin. They want to do some tests on me, take some new mesurements. Will prob be gone rest of the day. Miss you! Girls are aroun if u need anything! Be good!!! 💋💋
Jewel leaned in to read it, her chin close to my shoulder.
“Oh no,” she said with a pout, a syrupy earnestness, “That’s too bad. I know she wanted to have lunch with you.” A pause. Then, with a slow smile. “I guess I really have you all to myself now, though, don’t I?”
I glanced at the message on the tablet again. Melissa’s casual sign-off sat there like a half-open window, and I sensed the whole room feeling different, like the absence of something I hadn’t realized was anchoring me. Protecting me from something I didn’t know was there.
Melissa was gone. The gravitational force in the building had shifted. And now? Here? Now it was just me and Jewel. In a quiet, corner workspace. With no appointments. No supervision. No guardrails.
I shifted slightly in her lap. She noticed.
“There it is again,” she said softly, teasing the words out like silk, “that cute little squirm.” Her voice dipped just enough to feel intentional. “Is it me? Or are you just restless today?”
I started to answer, something deflective, but she spoke again before I could get the words together.
“I can feel it, you know,” she said, her tone light but deliberate. “The way your pulse jumps a little when I lean in close. The way your cheeks flush, ja?” She smiled - casual, not accusatory. Observing. “Why is that, Dr. J?”
“Uhhh…” My voice caught. My brain offered nothing.
“It’s okay if you’re attracted to me,” she said gently, not mincing words, like she was explaining something simple and scientific. “I’ve already told you - I find you very attractive. So, we’re attracted to one another. But that’s fine. We can keep things professional, ja?”
“Ja,” I nodded - too quickly, probably, acknowledging it - I was attracted to her, “Of course.”
Her tone sweetened, her smile warmed. She liked that I was agreeing with her - and picking up her speech patterns. “Good. Then it’ll just be our…little…secret.” She tapped me on the nose. “But I’ll look forward to our time together. You learning from me. Me keeping you on track.”
Her hand returned to the desk, near the cookie plate. She glanced down at it, then back up at me.
“Here,” she said, lifting another cookie between her fingers and holding it out like an offering. “One more. For focus.”
I hesitated. Just for a second. They were tempting but - was there something dangerous about these cookies? No, that’s ridiculous.
I opened my mouth. “okay,” I peeped, and let her feed me, through her coo-ing and ooo-ing and ooo-ing and ahhh-ing.
“Good boy,” she told me again, more bold than ever with her affectionate praise.
“Thank you,” I said, numb with a weird, comfortable warmth.
Jewel then smiled as I took the last bite from her fingers, and brushed crumbs from the corner of my mouth with a gently precise, manicured fingertip and a soft laugh.
“Good, good boy,” she murmured again, almost like it was a reflex now - like praising me had just become part of her rhythm. Then, with a small tilt of her head, her eyes flicked to the desktop screen. A soft chime had sounded - some news ticker notification still open on the browser from earlier. She narrowed her eyes at the headline, lips parting just slightly.
“Oh - had you seen this?”
I turned slightly in her lap - yes, still in her lap, a fact that wasn’t getting any less embarrassing - and followed her gaze to the screen. The headline was still glowing:
“HHS Releases New Data: Adolescent Girls Now Outpacing Boys in Growth Rates.”
“Looks like the Department of Health and Human Services dropped a study this morning,” she said as she popped open a small news browser window, with just enough lilt to her voice to make it sound like light gossip. “They’re saying girls are officially growing faster than boys. Not just earlier. But faster. Taller.”
She reached casually towards the plate again. She picked up another cookie without taking her eyes off the screen.
“Isn’t that wild?” she said, gently pressing a new cookie to my lips, coaxing another bite. “Like, if this continues…give it twenty years and the average woman’s going to be taller than the average man.”
The cookie was already between my teeth before I could react. I chewed slowly, watching her as she leaned in a little towards the screen. Good lord, these cookies tasted like the best things I’d ever eaten, and she was easily one of the most beautiful women on the planet, right?
“Dr. J?” she prompted me, looking back at me now, “Do you think that’ll happen?”
“Umm….y-yeah? I guess?” Wait what?
“Which is crazy, right?” she continued, turning back to the screen and clicking the news window closed, “First the girls start outperforming boys on the entrance exams, getting the degrees, taking the jobs…that’s been happening already.” She bit her lip, but as she turned towards me her eyes sparkled with deliberate mischief. “Now they’re getting taller, too?”
She let that - whatever it was - a question? A statement? A Declaration? - hang like a net.
I swallowed. My mouth was dry again. “I - I guess I hadn’t heard that,” I mumbled. I tried to avoid the news, these days, as much as I could. “But…I mean…it makes sense. I suppose.”
It was out before I could stop it. And when the moment landed in the air between us, it felt heavier than I expected. She didn’t respond immediately - just studied me with a curious glint. Then she smiled, gently.
“Oh?” she asked, all innocence now as she cocked her head, “Why’s that?”
I didn’t answer right away, and couldn’t meet her eyes. My cheeks were hot, and I blushed at how aware I was of the size of her thighs under mine, of her left hand now resting on the curve of my hip, fingers lightly brushing. She’d put the half-eaten cookie back on the plate.
“I guess it just feels like it’s already happening,” I said finally, barely above a whisper. “You know…women being…stronger. More in control.”
There was a beat of silence. Then-
“Go on.”
My tongue had been loosened by something, my inhibitions thinned. “I…I dunno. Women are getting to be the dominant gender,” I said, “so it makes sense that they should be…bigger.”
Jewel’s eyes looked ready to burst with something - glee, excitement, triumph. Her smile was luminous. “Awwww,” she said, and her tone was so layered - genuine, amused, tender, just a bit condescending - that I didn’t know where to file it in my brain. “You really believe that, don’t you? That the scales are tipping? That the world is starting to change?”
I nodded once. Quietly. ‘Starting to change’? “Yeah. I guess I do.”
She smiled, warm and wide. “I do too. And I think that maybe boys like you…” She sat up straight. “…and women like me…” Towering above me “…we’re just ahead of schedule.” She chuckled, but the sound didn’t match the implication. It was light, teasing, but the image it painted sent a cold shiver through me.
Her hand at my hip played at my pelvis, fingers dancing at my waistband. There was a beat, a moment she took for thought, for consideration as she looked at me, smiling. And then she spoke again.
“The gender differences may be shifting, girls may be now naturally growing faster than boys, young women outpacing young men,” she said, “and eventually, ja, women may be the taller sex if we let things take their natural course.” She was weighing what she said next carefully. “But we’re also working on speeding nature up.”
I blinked at her, and I’m sure the confused bewilderment was plain on my face. “H-how-?” I stammered, feeling my heart hammering in my throat, “How d-do you mean?” And who, exactly, are ‘we’?
Though there was amusement still dancing behind her eyes, her voice had dropped, become more husky. “Well, let me explain it this way,” she began, “When we were talking earlier, about my legs? When you were complimenting me about my ‘good genetics’? I may have been… oversimplifying.” Under me, around me, she adjusted herself in her chair, sitting again a little taller. “Here, Dr. J, let me show you something…watch.”
Then, she moved- not much, just enough. Her shoulders rolled back, her posture elongated. Her frame, already commanding, seemed to gather itself. Her arms moved fluidly, the sleeves of her blazer shifting just enough to subtly suggest the mass of muscle beneath. She wasn’t flexing. Not really. Just…existing more fully in her space. But the effect was undeniable.
I felt small again. Smaller than usual. My hands, folded now in my lap, suddenly looked like they belonged to a much younger man. My breath caught, and Jewel smiled, as if she could feel the shift in my posture, in my pulse.
“Did you feel that, Dr. J?” she asked, softly, “Hm?”
I…I nodded. Though she was making me feel smaller, smaller and smaller by the moment, it wasn’t that she was growing. She was just - exerting herself, expressing her size, her will, around me.
“Do you want me to do it some more?” she asked, her voice low and velvet-smooth.
I nodded again. I couldn’t seem to do anything else
Jewel’s eyes stayed fixed on mine for a beat longer, studying. And then, wordlessly, she leaned over me slightly at the waist, just enough to impose herself on me more directly. Her lips quirked upward in a private little smirk and she tilted her head gently to one side, then the other, like she was stretching. Then - almost imperceptibly at first - she rolled her shoulders back and down, elongating her spine and raising her chin.
Looking up at her, that’s when I saw it.
The line of her neck tensed, cords rising just beneath that smooth caramel skin. Her trapezius - the muscles that joined her shoulders to the base of her neck - seemed to grow fuller with every passing second. They rose and rose and rose, like sculpted monuments beneath her blouse, subtly at first, then unmistakably defined…and then outright huge. The blazer shifted, tightening across her upper body, as her shoulders flared and the shape of her deltoids pressed outward. She was letting the strength she had reveal itself.
I stared. God help me, I stared.
The immediate, sheer density of her neck and shoulder structure made her seem suddenly more massive, more monumental. Like someone had carved her out of warm stone. The femininity never left her - in fact, it somehow intensified, her breasts looking even more enormous - but now it carried the full weight of strength. Real, physical, female strength. And I sat there on her, unable to ignore the sudden awareness of the pencil narrowness of my own neck, my weak shoulders, my slight frame.
“oh christ…” I think I said.
She - god help me - she growled, a deep rolling thrummm that gently turned into a low chuckle. “You okay there, Dr. J?” she then asked, finally letting the tension in her shoulders roll gently away again.
I swallowed. I think I nodded. My pulse was loud in my ears. I tried to answer, but my tongue was thick in my mouth. Every inch of her - every inch of her height, of her bust, of her broad shoulders - defined her superior posture, her superior calmness, her utter command of her own superior physicality. And it made me feel smaller, softer, weaker and more fragile. I’d been shown, by Melissa, how powerful the feminine form could be when it wasn’t just beautiful, but imposing. And here it was again.
And I was sitting in its lap. Helped. Helpless and weak and vulnerable. Scared.
“So, Dr J,” Jewel began again, after giving me the moments I needed. The air between us had grown more intimate by spades, and her tone echoed. “The part about me not working out, not needing the gym, and still having all - this?”
“y-y-yeah..?” I managed, my voice barely above a peep.
“It’s all true,” she nodded. “And it’s not all genetics.” She paused. “You’ve heard of ‘Program’?
Program. I…I think I had? Had it come across my desk? Had Melissa mentioned it? Had I overheard furtive whispers in some hallway? I didn’t speak, but Jewel saw the dawn of understanding in my face.
“‘Program’ is designed to enhance women’s…physical presence,” she began to explain, her voice slow and silky with implication, “the goal being to make us physically superior to men. Women like me have been seeing the benefits of it, now, for several years.”
“W-women like you?”
“Well, bokke, it used to be that there was a rate, strict set of hormonal levels required to allow women to succeed on Program. They found me, I had those hormones,” she said gently, slowly, like she was unfolding a dark secret, “But now, it’s exciting. Research has progressed. We’re now able to use Program on more and more women, with more and more varied hormonal profiles. It’s still a select group, but that group is growing all the time.”
The secret that she was unwrapping for me, whatever it was, seemed to be making other mysteries coalesce in front of me. My heart started to pound, thinking I may have had a part in all this. I asked her, with trepidation - “Is this…is this the same as the Product we’ve been testing for Evolution? In clinic here?” Was it this that was responsible for all the changes, all the money that had come into Far Horizons?
To my concerns, though, Jewel just chuckled. “No…no,” she began again, patiently. This session, she and I here together, had changed from one type of lesson into another. “It’s different. ‘Product’ and ‘Program’ are two different things. Your study patients, over this past month, have been receiving ‘Product’. It’s different, newer, can do amazing things but is proving to be a bit…unpredictable. But me? All the other girls from Coronado?”
She looked down at me, and smiled.
“We’re Program.”
My heart took a stutter-step.
“We all had the right genotype, what Program used to require,” she continued, “But now, with the new advances, it’s being slowly rolled out into the public, even in this building. We’re starting to use Program, different versions of it, in the clinics, with patients that qualify. In Internal Medicine, in Aesthetics, in the Fertility clinic. Even in Pediatrics. It’s being used in other places too, around the world. To make more and more women superior…”
She paused. Something inside her flexed.
“...like me.”
There it was, again, out of my throat: “urk.”
Jewel chuckled again, and purred an indulgent coo down to me. “Can you imagine, Dr. J.,” she continued on, “a world where every woman is able to receive Program? Where every girl grows not only as tall as the boys, but far, far past them? Where the entire female race starts to become more and more…like me? It could be a whole world full of physically superior women, a whole race of us? How would that make you feel, eh, Dr J? I bet it would make you feel very very small wouldn’t it?”
My mouth gaped, my jaw hung. I think I was groaning, and I knew my cock had swollen far, far down my thigh.
“I said wouldn’t it, Dr J?” Her tolerance was fierce, a force.
I stared, up at her, at her huge, white, brilliant, beaming smile.
“y-yes,” I answered.
“That’s right. It will,” she continued, “And men will have to get used to it, feeling small around us. It may not happen entirely in our lifetime, but this world is going to be filled with a race of superwomen.”
In my head, as muddled as it was, more gears turned, sprockets clicking, springs falling into place. “S-super…women?” I repeated, picturing what I’d witnessed my girlfriend doing these past few weeks, “Like Melissa?”
To that, Jewel chuckled, paused again in thought. She was weighing what to tell me, and what she shouldn’t. “Well, no, sweetie…” she finally acknowledged, “not like Melissa.”
With her right hand she began to gently rub the back of my head; with the other, she reached for the plate on the desk.
“Here, Dr. J, have another cookie…”
There it was, in front of my mouth. Her right hand, on my skull, urged me closer to it. Somehow, I knew I shouldn't. But also…
Just a bite. Maybe two.
Crispy, then chewy. The sugar melted against my tongue with alarming ease, and I let out a quiet moan I didn’t mean to. These cookies were honestly amazing.
Jewel chuckled. “You like them, hmm?”
I nodded, chewing slowly, then swallowed. I sighed in satisfaction. I couldn’t help it.
“Have more.”
I took another bite, and I - suddenly, as the cookie was settling in my stomach and I looked back up at her - was struck again by Jewel’s beauty, her magnificent perfection. So dazzled was I that I needed to close my eyes, allowing myself the moment of indulgence and a respite from her gorgeous smile.
“There we go, good boy,” she cooed, and widened a smile that even through my shut lids I knew glowed with satisfaction, “That’s right, little man. Eat up.”
The terms of belittlement barely registered with me, didn’t bother me at all. One last bite, and I tasted her fingertip as she let it linger on my bottom lip.
“Ooooo….honey….” she purred, pressing down on my lip gently, for a long beat, “allllll done.” She giggled, and watched me open my eyes to meet hers. “You really, really like them, ja, Dr. J?”
I nodded, swallowing slowly. I couldn’t help it, how enraptured I felt. They were honestly the first solid I’d been able to eat in days, and tasted heavenly. And having this woman feed them to me? This huge, perfect woman…
“Have you ever had cookies that tasted this good, bokke?” she asked, voice languid and slow. Her finger was still on my lip.
Gently, I shook my head - ‘no’.
“Do you want to know, little doctor, what my secret ingredient was? When I baked them for you last night?” She was now tracing a little circle with her fingertip, caressing my lower lip with it,
My eyes were in hers, those cabochon gemstones that glimmered like a she-tiger’s. I couldn’t shake my head ‘no’ again. And when she slid her finger in through my lips, in just past my teeth, god help me…I started to suck.
suck suck suck, my lips sealed around her, my cheeks pulling in with the suction.
“I know your stomach has been funny, I heard that from the girls,” she drawled, seemingly unsurprised that I’d just started sucking on her finger, “so I made your cookies with something more gentle on the tummy, eh?” She paused, watching me suckle her forefinger. “I made them with breastmilk.”
I felt my eyes go wide, and the grip of her hand on the back of my head almost imperceptibly tighten, keep me held in place. Breastmilk?!? Oh…oh no…
She nodded, biting her lip as if reading my mind and amused by my shock. Her eyes sparkled as she read me, watched me, seemed to be recording every twitch and fidget on my face as it looked up at her.
My eyes, widening further still, dropped to her breasts, her huge, enormous breasts, swollen with soft life under her jacket, under the open neckline of her thin blouse. My one thought to her as in my jarred surprise my mouth suddenly watered for more of the cookie’s ‘secret ingredient’ - Breastmilk?? Was it yours?!?
Jewel let out a ringing laugh as my alarmed expression told her all she needed to know, what I was thinking as I stared at her chest. “Oh no, sweetheart! The milk in these isn’t mine!” she laughed, her free left hand coming to lightly lay on her massive boobs, keep in check the jiggles that shook through her flesh with her mirth, “it’s that nice Polish girl’s, Katarina’s. I asked her for some, when I decided to bake something for you.”
My breathing was shallow, rapid, close to panicked. Yes, I’d been given Katarina’s breastmilk before, by Melissa once when I slept, and again once after that. The girls had snuck it to me, as a joke, right? But now - was it breastmilk that was making me able to not only tolerate this solid food, these cookies, but crave them?? Gah!!
Jewel, for her part, was watching me, again caressing the back of my head, still with her soft fingertip in my mouth. I’d stopped sucking, in my shock, but she was undeterred. “So no, sorry Dr J, I don’t lactate for you. But…”
She began to move her forefinger, gently, tenderly, slowly in…and out…and in, and out…of my mouth. She began a rhythm, a slow unhurried rhythm, in and out, in and out.
And again I began to suck.
“...if you keep doing this, I may not be able to help myself.”
In and out, and in and out. Suck, suck, suck.
“Would you like me to try?” she whispered, both bringing her face down on her swan’s neck and in the same motion press her huge left breast in closer to my face. I felt her warmth overtake me, threaten to overwhelm me, and as I suck suck sucked I knew I was at this woman’s mercy, and behind closed doors. “Because I could do that, I could try. To bring my milk in.”
I whimpered.
She giggled. “And…would you like me to take more Program? Get back on it again?” she continued, her voice low and profound, “Because I could do that too. I could get even bigger, and stronger….” She pressed her left breast closer, until it plastered my left cheek. “...and bustier.” She let me suck, she let me feel the huge, soft mass of her bosom against my face. “Is that something you’d like too?”
I whined, this time differently. Not only was I overcome with want for this woman, but also now with guilt: Melissa! She loved me! I loved her! And this woman…this new presence in my practice, in my office, in my chair…who was she???
“Oh I know you’re with Melissa,” Jewel purred, tenderly but now openly hugging me to her huge boob, “but that doesn’t mean that I can’t be here too, eh? Jewel can be here to give you what you need, too, ja? When Melissa’s not here, when she’s just too busy for you? Jewel can help...”
Her finger went deeper into my mouth. And she whispered to me again:
“…and you can call me Mommy too, Dr J.”
I was sucking her finger when Lakshmi came in.
The door had opened - I didn’t even hear it - and Lakshmi, my young, longtime medical assistant had announced herself.
“Dr J..?” she began, “...and, uh…Jewel?”
I, for myself, tried to pull away immediately, with limited success - away from Jewel’s finger, away from her breast. Jewel was far stronger though and obviously wasn’t in much of a rush to let me go. Yes, she withdrew her finger from between my lips, sliding it out unhurriedly. And yes, she straightened up, sat up, released my face from her left tit. But it was slowly, casually, as if we’d not just been caught in a position as compromising as this one.
“Oh, hi Lakshmi,” Jewel smiled.
“L-Lakshmi..!” I stammered, flushing several shades of red and-
“What are you guys…up to?” Lakshmi asked, obviously herself trying to get a handle on what was going on in here. She seemed a little taken aback.
Jewel, though, didn’t miss a beat. “We’re just working through the new EHR interface,” she said sweetly, brushing a nonexistent crumb from her jacket’s lapel, near where my face had been planted just moments earlier. “Dr. J’s doing so well - aren’t you, bokke?”
I cleared my throat, my face still burning. “Ja,” I answered, catching myself using Jewel’s speech patterns again, “We were just… going over the tablet, uh, interface.” I was obviously under Jewel’s direction, under her control. And, of course, I was still on her lap.
Lakshmi stood frozen in the doorway for a beat, eyes flickering between me and Jewel. Her brow was slightly furrowed, but she offered a polite smile. “Mmm okayyyyy…” she murmured, stepping into the room with careful ease. “Well, I hate to interrupt, but Dr. J - you are needed out front. They…have a question on a patient.”
I blinked. “I am?” I managed, “and...they do?”
Jewel’s arm still rested behind my back, her hand now between my shoulders. Her fingers didn’t grip, exactly, but I could feel them there - present. Possessive. “Oh no,” she said with a slow, syrupy pout, “but we’re not quite done with his lesson. I’ve just started showing him the diagnostic templates.”
Lakshmi approached the desk. Her eyes, looking wary, scanned the workstation - and then settled on the near-empty plate beside us. She picked up the last cookie with delicate fingers, brought it to her nose, and sniffed gently. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
I could tell she recognized the smell as familiar.
I swallowed.
Lakshmi turned back to me, her expression polite but now edged with something else - something sharper. “Dr. J,” she said, her voice patient, “Until you are comfortable with the new EHR, I will scribe for you, okay? You can always finish your EHR orientation another time.”
“Oh, uh…” I began, faltering.
Jewel cut in smoothly. “He really should finish the full walkthrough while it’s fresh, eh?” she said, calmly, “He’s making such progress. Aren’t you, Dr. J?”
Lakshmi’s voice didn’t change, but her eyes didn’t leave mine. “We do not want to overwhelm him, Jewel. He has already had a lot of…input, for today.” She reached gently for my elbow. “Come on. With me. Just for a little bit.”
“Are you sure you want to go, bokke?” Jewel asked.
“I…I think I should.” I answered.
That, thankfully, was enough. Jewel’s hand finally lifted away from behind my back as Lakshmi helped guide me - awkwardly - off the huge woman’s lap. I stood, wobbly, not just from the situation but, I figured, from the cookie overload and the strange fuzziness it brought to my head.
As Lakshmi turned me gently toward the door, Jewel called out brightly behind us.
“Dr. J!”
I glanced back; Lakshmi did as well..
She lifted the empty plate, giving it a soft tap with her nail and assaulting me with a huge, brilliant smile that carved weaponized dimples into her cheeks. The sight stopped me in my tracks, and nearly made me take a step back towards her. In fact, were it not for Lakshmi’s hand on my shoulder, I may have done just that. “Would you like me to bake more cookies for tomorrow?” she asked brightly.
My heart rumbled, my stomach murmured. I was about to answer but before I could, Lakshmi replied with a sunny smile of her own:
“No thank you, Jewel,” she said, “He is watching his weight.”
And with that, she ushered me out of the room.
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Thanks to friend-of-theBasic Zharatos for image