Your trusted doctor doses you with aphrodisiac (Lesbian domination)

There was a certain warmth to Dr. Selas' office; the chemical sterility of the lobby discarded for a subtle aroma of candied apples. Entering felt like walking through a time machine.

"Good morning, hun," the voluptuous MD smiled, the soft lines of her face making it impossible not to smile back at her, "You been avoiding me?" Her tone was entirely lighthearted, born from decades of familiarity.

We met in a soft embrace, "Never, doc." She was like a second mother, first my pediatrician and then continued practitioner. Our relationship bordered on parental, given the sheer amount of individualized care Dr. Selas had given over the years; every stomach virus, ear infection, flu, physical, etc. Dr. Selas had never married or had children, and while plenty had passed through her clinic over the years, the bond between us was a shining exception; she was family.

"Mhm, sure," the older woman seated herself, her lab coat folding neatly and her wide hips found a lazy resting position along the seat; narrow-rimmed glasses rested at the bridge of the doctor's pert nose.

"I mean it!" I took my own position at the padded patient's chair across from her, "I've just been a little busy is all." If she so desired, Dr. Selas could pick me apart with just one speculative raise of her brow.

"Relax! I'm just teasing, silly girl. I just wanted to catch up." Hers was a calm, matronly ambience, "I see less and less of you these years." Her tone took on a muted disappointment as she said it, but there was no malice or accusation. Just fondness.

"Just keeping busy, sorry." I was quick to respond; Dr. Selas had a way of picking fun at my hesitation.

"No! Don't apologize, that's a good thing. You're a big woman now; I'm glad you're doing well, hun." There was a pause, a hiccup in our dialogue that hinted on something unspoken. Dr. Selas regained her poise, "My chart says you're overdue on one of your immunizations."

Immunizations? I wasn't expecting a booster of any kind, but deferred to her expertise nonetheless, "Anything serious?"

She laughed throatily, "No, nothing serious at all. Mind if we knock it out before your general checkup?" There was something stimulating about her lax composure. Grace, compassion and a bit of lighthearted wit followed her every step. "Still afraid of needles?"

Funny. She remembered. While I surely wasn't excited about the prospect, I hadn't been scared of immunizations since I was a kid, yet the older woman had remembered to check-in. "No, I'll be fine."

"Good." Setting the paperwork away and leaning inward, Dr. Selas' voice was nearly a whisper, "sleeve up."

The scent of her ebony body was something – different. Not unpleasant, just new. The scent of her hair reminded me of being a kid again, sitting in her lap, feeling the warmth of her arms around me as she whispered reassurances into my ear. It made me feel safe, and protected—like I was home. I reached for my shirt, pulling up the sleeve and exposing my arm. "Okay, okay..." I tried to sound confident, but my heart raced.

Dr. Selas gleamed, "Good! Close your eyes and let me do my magic. It'll be over before you know it." A gentle touch brushed against my skin, firm hands massaging the muscle beneath. The sensation was warm and soothing, almost like floating. There was indeed a prick, a momentary sting that tendered to a dull throb; a creeping sensation lingered at the site. My eyes flittered open, no needle in sight but a fresh Band-Aid placed upon the rosy bruise. "All done, hun. You feel alright?"

This was routine, or at least I'd assumed it to be, "Yeah, I feel fine. I think."

"Good." there was a queer expression of contentment upon her soft lips, "Just breathe."

Breathe? A budding warmth stirred in my chest – like a shot of spiced bourbon – coursing through every vein with the beat of my heart. Trembling fingers found the edge of my chair and squeezed styrofoam cushion beneath me.

"M-Ms. Selas?"

"Hush," she mewed, nestling her chin upon my shoulder; I could feel the beat of her heart intensifying past her sweater-clad breasts. "Sorry I lied, hun. I hate lying, but you'll forgive me, won't you" , once a stirring ember, crackled with newfound vigor. The softest breeze elicited a jolt of mind-numbing sensitivity.

Dr. Selas' arms fell over my shoulders, feminine digits drawing slow circles along my chest, "That wasn't an immunization, hun. Just a little aphrodisiac, for you." She raised the aphrodisiac filled syringe before my face, a droplet of the concentrated love-venom still dewing at the tip. "It's nothing that will hurt you, trust me. I'm your doctor, after all." She leaned in, nuzzling my neck; the feel of her voluptuous breasts was enough to milk a ragged gasp from my lips. "You're my patient."

The venom was potent; a kiss of blissful, fiery elation that made me moan into her arms. My eyes were heavy, the room growing dark as I succumbed to the Dr. Selas' virulent toxin. Her lips pressed against mine, a kiss of tender affection that tasted of peppermint and cinnamon. I couldn't help but melt into her embrace, her arms enfolding me like a warm blanket.

Then I saw it, her hands slither up my calf and teased at the crook of my crotch. All my life, Dr. Selas did not get intimate with me. To intiate this kind of thing with me; highly inappropriate for a child to see. I was a child no more.

There was a sense of betrayal of course, the vestiges of sense and reason all but absent. I wanted to protest, if only to say that I had tried, but the words eroded into a gurgling moan as they reached my lips.