The Doctor and His Nurse - Part Two
By Wanderer
The doctor finds he needs a partner


This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 21 or laws in
your country forbid you to do so. Any similarity to actual persons, living or
dead, is unintentional and purely coincidental.

Copyright 2005 by Wanderer.

Nurse Wheatley had been pressing herself against me while we talked and I
didn't realize it but I had been taking a step backwards for every step she
took forward, but now my back was up against a wall. "My, my, Doctor Tom, you
seem to be so uncomfortable," she said. "Is that perspiration on your
forehead? Here, let me get that for you." She removed a tissue from a box on
the drug cabinet counter next to us, and leaning into me she began to wipe the
perspiration off my brow. The tissue was soon soaked. Her solid breasts were
pressing me back against the wall, her nipples driving themselves into my
chest. The contact was making my fevered brow perspire even more. I
desperately wanted to turn away but she had me pinned, unable to move. To me,
a doctor used to weak, compliant women, her ability to hold me physically
immobile was unnerving.

Nurse Wheatley gently patted my cheek very condescendingly and then put her
fingers around my lower jaw as if she was going to stroke it, but then she
tightened her grip, and painfully, too. I grabbed the wrist of the hand that
was attached to my jaw and with my other hand I grabbed her forearm and tried
to push her hand off my jaw which was now hurting painfully from the force of
her grip. I decided I had to bluff my way out of this.

"That will be enough of that!" I threatened.

"Ooohhh, Doctor Tom, I'm about to faint from fear, you're so forceful!" she
responded. Then I felt her right thigh push between my legs. Up, up, up, I
felt my body rising, my feet leaving the floor, and then my whole body, all
one hundred eighty pounds of it, was resting on her one thigh. Remarkably, she
was able to hold my entire body weight on just her one leg. I could feel the
powerful quadriceps flexing on my penis as she continued to hold my weight up
with ease on just that one leg.

"Tom," she said, "I can't seem to staunch the perspiration on your brow. It's
so hot in here with the air conditioning out. I think I should remove your
shirt. Maybe that would make you more comfortable."

"Please, Ms. Wheatley, do not address me in such familiar terms. I am Doctor
Martin to you. What? No, stop! How dare you destroy my expensive designer
shirt! That will certainly come out of your next pay check!"

"Oh, but Tom, I figured you weren't going to let me stay here long enough to
get another paycheck," she responded.

"Well ... er ... yes ... er ... no." She had me there. But she wasn't going to
get the best of me. I was the doctor. She was a mere employee. This had to
end. "I'm through warning you, Ms. Wheatley!"

"Well, Tom, you have a very nice chest," she commented, and I realized she had
completely shredded my expensive imported silk shirt off my back. My chest was
completely exposed, just as her chest was. Now she wrapped her right arm
around my waist and she pulled me towards her along her muscular thigh until
her nipples were pressing against my nipples. Just the very thought of it
aroused my genitals even more. Then she began to finger my nipples with her
free hands as my entire body rested on her thigh as she pressed her knee into
the wall. She was pulling both my nipples and rolling them between her thumb
and forefinger.

"Ow, ow, ow," I groaned. "You're hurting me," I whined.

"Oh, honey, I don't want to hurt you," she laughed, as she continued to role
my nipples through her fingers. "I just want to arouse you, and it looks like
I'm doing a very good job," she giggled, as she looked down meaningfully at my
lengthening penis.

"Again, Ms. Wheatley, please don't address me in such familiar terms. I am not
your honey, I am your superior, your employer. We must maintain a proper
decorum. And please let me down off your thigh," I added as an afterthought.

"Well, sweetie, if we can achieve a more equitable physical status here maybe
you won't be so uppity. Maybe like Adam and Eve," she laughed. "Suppose we
just take off your pants, darling?"

"Don't you dare!" I said, alarmed. I certainly couldn't appear naked in front
of one of my employees. I might as well have been talking to the wall I was
being propped up against. I struggled desperately, but Ms. Wheatley had no
problem unbuckling my belt as I sat on her thirty-two inch thigh, pulling it
through the loops, unbuttoning and unzipping my pants, then pulling at and
shredding the sturdy material. Thus freed from its restraints, my erection
popped out into view, much to my embarrassment. While Ms. Wheatley still had
me suspended on her thigh my erection crept along her leg as it continued to
grow, unrestrained now from any confinement and urged on by Ms. Wheatley
touching it, lifting it, turning it so as to examine it, again much to my
embarrassment.

"Oh, honey," Ms Wheatley said, "I'm surprised. You're not as much a machine as
you pretend to be. You're quite responsive," she mused. "I'm impressed."

"Bitch!" I exploded. That was very uncharacteristic of me and my manner of
speech.

"What did you just call me?" Petra asked, anger in her voice.

"Bitch?" I repeated, with much less conviction.

"Well, Tommy," she said, "I see that I need to teach you proper respect for
the working class. Let's begin you training, shall we?"

Now what the hell did that mean? Ms. Wheatley stopped playing with my nipples,
thank God, put her right hand on my crotch and her left hand behind my neck
and easily lifted me into her hands, much as I had seen her do with ailing
children who needed medical attention in our office. She easily carried me
over to one of our examination tables and placed me on my back, removing the
remainder of my shredded pants from my legs and discarding the remnants.

"Put your feet into the stirrups," she said.

"What?"

"You heard me, Tom, feet into the stirrups. Now!" she ordered, sternly. I
didn't like the tone in her voice. It seemed to be very threatening. Maybe if
I complied she would just go away. But of course I was wrong. I lifted my feet
into the stirrups, exposing my gluteus and anal region to her gaze. I was
terribly embarrassed by this unseemly exposure of my private area.

Oh, oh. Ms. Wheatley took a latex glove out of its box and placed her right
hand into the glove, making sure it was taut around her fingers with a couple
snap pulls on the glove edge. What was up?

"Now, Tom, we need to determine if your physical condition is up to my
rigorous requirements for you. Shall we proceed?"

"You must be crazy, Ms Wheatley, I have no idea what you're talking about," I
said.

"Why, Tom, you're always sticking your probing little fingers into private
places. Now I think you should experience what that feels like."

I was becoming apprehensive. I was thinking now about running. But looking at
Ms. Wheatley's intimidating body I felt I wouldn't get very far. Oh, why
hadn't I been more athletic in my youth? I lamented. Too late now.

Maybe I could cajole her. "Please, Ms. Wheatley, suppose we discuss an
increase in your remuneration," I offered.

"You mean you want to bribe me with a pay raise, you pompous ass? If I do
nothing else today I'm going to knock you off your high horse. First thing I'm
going to do is make you call me by my first name. Call me Petra - Now!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that Ms. Wheatley," I responded. "It would be improper
to do so, and against established office policies."

"Petra - Now!" she repeated, a steely edge creeping into her voice, and she
slapped me, hard. Wow, that hurt. I didn't know a slap could hurt that much.
But when I looked at the bulge in Ms. Wheatley's upper arm as her bicep
swelled in response to the resistance my cheek presented to her palm, I began
to understand the pain Ms. Wheatley could impose on me with her impressive
musculature, should I oppose her instructions.

But I'm stubborn. "I'm sorry, Ms. Wheatley, but rules are rules. I can't
change them for any of your whims."

"Whim? Whim?" Ms. Wheatley said. "How's this for whim?" Nurse Wheatley grabbed
my right foot and locked it into the stirrup with the safety strap attached to
the examination table. I struggled mightily with my right leg to frustrate her
intent, but for her it was as if I wasn't even trying. I realized that two
twenty-four inch biceps would beat out one twenty-one inch thigh any day of
the week. I didn't even try to resist her strength with my left leg. I
realized it was useless. I was very docile while she put my left leg into the
stirrup and tied it in place with the safety strap. Well, maybe I wasn't being
docile. I was just plain scared. Scared of a woman with twenty-four inch
biceps.

Then Nurse Wheatley, standing at the foot of the table, placed her gloved hand
on my testicles and started rolling them between her fingers, and at the same
time she picked up my now very rigid penis with her other hand and started
examining it, moving it up and down and sideways, and making little circles in
the air with it. Needless to say, I was humiliated beyond words. Here was a
woman, an employee, dominating me physically as if I were a mere child, a
baby, someone with no will of my own. Her will was now my will.

"Hmmmm," Nurse Wheatley says. "Nice package. Good sized testicles. There
should be some good quality sperm coming out of these if I decide we're to
have children. And this rod here should put your sperm pretty far up into my
uterus. It doesn't look like they'll have to swim very far," she giggled.
"Let's see if your prostate is going to make enough fluid to carry your little
wigglies to where they need to go," Petra said.

Now I'm very sensitive in the anal area. I have never even let another doctor
do a prostate exam on me, so you can imagine how stressed I was when Ms.
Wheatley probed her right hand middle finger up past my anus into my colon and
begins exploring my prostate, and she wasn't gentle. My screams must have been
heard in Houston.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh my God! Oh, please stop!...Please stop!...Aaahhh ...
anything! Anything!...I'll do anything you want ... Aaahhh!"

Well, I didn't know if it was the pain, or the humiliation, my office nurse
abusing me like this, but I began to sob, tears rolling down my cheeks. I
don't know why. I've seen death. I've seen people die on the operating table.
But for some reason my emotions overwhelmed me now. Was it my ego being
deflated? I had twelve inch biceps, pretty normal for a male whose only
exercise was a round of golf on Wednesdays. I was an intellectual, a medical
doctor, not an athlete. A female, a member of what I considered to be the
lesser sex, was confronting me with biceps twice the size of mine. I knew her
calves were enormous. I ought to know, I followed them around my office long
enough. Her thighs were in proportion to her calves, whereas my thighs were
quite slim. All these thoughts were racing through my head as Nurse Wheatley
probed my prostate gland. Here I was, at the mercy of a woman, a female, a
member of the weaker sex, and yet she had overpowered me easily. It didn't
compute. I was the male, she was the female, and yet she had easily
overpowered me, as if I were one of the small children that we saw daily in
our medical practice. She now had control of my fate. Was it fear of her
bringing the tears to my eyes? Was it the humiliation of being so easily
handled by a female? My pride? My ego? I realized nobody knew I was here. We
were alone. I was always in control of any situation. Now I was not in
control. In the past I may have abused my relationship with my nurse by
exercising full and unquestionable authority. Now I realized I was not in
control of anything. I was a pawn. I was helpless. My nurse was now in full
control and she was demonstrating a very dominant streak. Tears began to flow
more copiously down my cheeks.

Nurse Wheatley took note. "Oh, my poor baby, you're crying. Am I hurting you?
Well, mommy didn't mean to hurt you, baby. Here, your prostate seems to be in
A-1 shape. You have passed my physical inspection, other than perhaps being a
little on the weak side because of lack of musculature. But don't worry baby,
I think we'll make a good match. Mommy is going to take good care of you.
Mommy's big muscles will protect you. You don't have to be afraid of anything
any more. Only of me," she added.

I didn't know where this mommy stuff was coming from, but Ms. Wheatley
unbuckled the safety straps and easy as pie she lifts me off the examination
table and carries me over to my office desk chair and sits down on it with me
in her lap. I'm so distraught by now I just keep crying. Imagine, a grown man
crying his eyes out because some young woman is mistreating him. Well, beating
him up, really. My head is buried in my adversary's shoulder, and my tears are
cascading down between her breasts. That gives her an idea.

"Babies always stop crying when mommies feed them. Here, baby, you take
mommy's nipple in your mouth, I'm sure you'll feel better," and she forces my
head down onto her nipple. What am I, a child now? Well, you can't cry a lot
when your mouth is full, and her nipple is a mouthful. Also, truth be known,
it's very soothing. I put one hand up to her breast, and then both hands. So
here I am, her nipple is a mouthful, her breast is a handful ... two handfuls,
and pretty soon I forget my problems and I'm enjoying my work.

The way she was holding me on her lap, she had her left hand wrapped securely
around my lower back to my left side, holding me tightly to her body, and her
right hand just naturally fell into my lap on my groin. Well, my penis was
already stimulated from being in contact with her very feminine body, even if
she did have more muscles than I had, but now with her hand resting on my
erection it was stimulated even more.

Petra took notice of its growing response. She picked up the end and moved it
a little to more closely inspect it. Of course, her holding it like that, its
response was more than I had any control over. Petra realized that the more
she handled it the more it was growing. She started to have fun with it.

"My, my," she giggled. "This thing is really a monster. It seems to have a
life of its own. I think we should name it. How about we call it Tom, Junior?
No, no, there's nothing junior about it, it's such a monster. How about we
call it Monster? No, that's kind of terrifying. Well, it is terrifying, but I
think I can tame it," she giggled. "Monster. Monster what? Oh, I know, we'll
call it Monster Dick. You'll be Tom, or Tommy. And that will be Monster Dick.
But I know I can tame Monster Dick. I'll train it. When I snap my fingers
Monster Dick will spring to attention, ready for action. This should be fun,"
she giggled.

I'm glad she was having fun. I was feeling like some kind of circus animal, or
a plaything for my office nurse. Never mind that I was playing with the
biggest, firmest breast I had ever encountered in my entire medical
experience. I had lost control. My office nurse was in complete control, and
she was not to be deterred from her ultimate objective, complete control of
me. But she wanted to put her control to a test.

"Monster Dick," she says, addressing my penis which is already as stiff as an
iron rod, "we need a practice run." She snaps her fingers, and if anything
Monster Dick gets even longer and harder. She gives it three strokes - only
three - and I'm a goner. I gush seminal fluid all over the office. "See, you
do like me!" she giggles.

I can't help it, my body is convulsing from my ejaculation, so nurse Wheatley
puts her hand to the back of my head and pulls me even more firmly into her
body, and I bury my head in her very broad shoulder and I can feel the bundles
of muscle fibers expanding with her effort to hold me tight.

Then she says, "Here, baby, take my nipple again, you've earned it." So I put
my lips back around that nipple - has it grown more turgid? - and I begin
sucking and licking again. No doubt that it makes me feel much better, even if
it does feel to me like an act of submission to the whims of my office
employee.

"Now, Tom, since you're getting so personal with me," as I continued sucking
on her nipple, "do you think you can comply with my request?"

"What ... request ... is ... that?" I mumble, between mouthfuls. I had been so
preoccupied with my work on Ms. Wheatley's chest that I had forgotten our
previous conversation.

"Why, that you call me by my first name, Petra, silly," she said.

Well, I guess I could give in a little. Maybe this treat would come my way
again - and soon, hopefully. "Y ... y ... yes, Ms. Wheatley ... er ... Petra.
I think I can accommodate you. Perhaps I have been a little too reserved in my
interpersonal relationships with my employees," I said.

"You're damn right," Ms. Wheatley ... er ... Petra said. "I'm going to make a
human being out of you. You're a damn fine looking guy, and I'm tired of your
big shot act. Where the hell would you be without me in this office? You know
I'm as smart as you are. I've saved your butt more than once from a career
ending law suit, and you damn well know it!"

I hated to admit it, but I knew in my heart it was true. Ms. Wheatley ...
Petra ... had been with me five years, and in that time I learned she was
extremely competent. She read my medical journals during her lunch time, and
she had taken every one of my medical texts home to study them. What's more,
she had a photographic memory. "Do you remember that statement in the third
paragraph on page 487 of the medical manual? Didn't you find it ambiguous?"

"Later, Ms. Wheatley," I would say. Then I would disappear into my private
office and hastily look up the passage. Sure enough, it was ambiguous. And
much to my chagrin she could argue both sides. I knew she had wanted to attend
medical school but the finances had not been available to her. I knew in my
heart she would have graduated with honors. Instead she had attended nursing
school. I was lucky to have her, and it was true, she had saved me from a
serious law suit more than once.

So I'm still sitting on Petra's lap, being cuddled in her very muscular arms,
and I think she's enjoying my work because I'm hearing little sighs and little
moans, and I know I'm enjoying my work. Then I'm thinking maybe it's time to
switch over from her left breast to her right breast, when I hear her say,
"That's a good baby. I think all those little tears are gone now, and I think
you've calmed down enough for us to discuss our partnership." What
partnership?

"What partnership?" I ask.

"Why, you and me, honey. I'm tired of being just Nurse Wheatley, office
assistant. I want to be Petra Wheatley or Thomas Martin & Petra Wheatley,
Inc., or maybe even Mrs. ThomasWheatley-Martin, or Petra Martin-Wheatley. We
can always settle the details later on, after we're married."

"Ms Wheatley, I have not intention of marrying you!" I declared, shocked at
her presumption.

"Do you think I'm giving you a choice, Tom?" she asked. "Why were you crying?
Is it because you're afraid of me? Afraid of what I could do to you? Maybe I
would want to get back at you for being so haughty and disdainful. Maybe I
might break your arms. Gee whiz, then you could no longer be in the operating
room. You wouldn't need those X-rays you came for today. You'd have to depend
on poor little Petra to support you. You'd be so dependent you'd have to kiss
my feet every night when I came home from work. And I could keep breaking your
arms. You'd have to beg me to feed you. Maybe you would want to kiss my ass
every night. My, my, you'd be my little slave boy, except with broken arms you
couldn't do anything around the house. You see my dilemma?"

Her dilemma was nothing compared to mine. How do I get out of here? With two
broken arms how do I dial 9-1-1? What do I say? My nurse broke both my arms?
"You have a male nurse"? they'd ask. "No, she's a woman," I'd say. "How did
she do it?" they'd ask. "She has twenty-four inch biceps," I'd answer. They'd
laugh at this practical jokester and hang up on me.

Well, now I'm really scared. I don't want some female taking charge of my
life, even one as gorgeous as Petra Wheatley was. I didn't mind her looks. It
was her powerful, muscular, steroid enhanced body that was scaring the shit
out of me. I mean I had twelve inch biceps, more or less. She had twenty-four
inch biceps, or more, not less. I had twenty-one inch thighs, she had
thirty-two inch thighs. How could we ever have a meaningful discussion? Maybe
after she beat me up we could reach an agreement. I could say "Yes, dear. Yes,
dear." Well, maybe it wasn't so different from most modern marriages, but I
still wanted to make my own decisions as to who I was going to marry. Petra
had become quite relaxed from my ministrations on her nipple and her breast,
and now was my chance. I jumped off her lap and headed for the door. I was
going to make good on my escape! I was at the door, fumbling with the lock,
and then I heard Petra giggle.

"Oh, gee, Tom, I forgot to tell you I locked the door!" And then I heard her
at my back. She turned me around and put her right hand at the base of my jaw,
where the jaw and the neck come together. Now I feel my body begin to rise up
the side of the door. In the meantime I'm being forced to listen to a lecture
on the realities of my new life!

"Tom, honey, get used it baby, you're mine now, body and soul. I own you. And
I own your medical practice. Oh, I know a lay person like me can't own a
medical practice, so we won't sign any papers. I'll give you an allowance,
you'll live comfortably. Maybe with me so I can keep an eye on you. What are
you going to do? Tell the police on me? 'Oh, officer, my female nurse beats me
up. Please protect me.' They'll laugh you out of the police station. Are you
going to run away and open a practice in another state? But you have to
register with the State Medical Board and I'll find you, and then I won't be
as gentle with you as I am now, Tom honey."

As she was talking to me she was gradually tightening her grip on my lower
jaw, and slowly raising her arm while I desperately pawed at her wrist and
forearm trying to dislodge her hold. I couldn't do a thing, and finally she
had forced me onto my toes, and then - and then - my feet left the floor. I
was suspended in air, my body resting on the palm of her hand enveloping my
jaw - all one hundred eighty pounds of me. God, I was scared! Such strength
was inhuman! I, as a physician, had never heard of anything like this before.
A woman strong enough to hold one hundred eighty pounds in the palm of one
hand. Unreal!

Nurse Wheatley brought me back to the moment. She raised me up, fully
extending the right hand holding my body so that my belt was at her eye level.
"Oh, Doctor Tom wet himself!" she declared.

I hadn't realized it but my fear of Ms. Wheatley had emptied my bladder.
"Well, maybe nursey needs to put a diaper on her baby. We really can't have
you appearing in front of patients with pee running down your leg," she
giggled. "We can't have you standing in a puddle, can we? You might turn on
one of our electric instruments and electrocute yourself," she laughed. "You
know, honey, this office complex has luxury penthouse apartments on the upper
floors. If I'm going to have to change your diaper often we could take one of
those apartments when we're married and live there, and we could run up to our
penthouse whenever I had to change your diaper, and while I was changing your
diaper I might have you satisfy whatever sexual desires I might be
experiencing at the moment," she giggled. "And when we finish with the
experimentation on each animal we could take it upstairs to be with us,
instead of having to euthanize it," she added.

"Well, I agree that one of the disagreeable parts of doing animal
experimentation in my medical practice is the euthanization of the animal when
the experiment is completed, but I believe that housing the animals in living
quarters after the experiment is completed is impractical," I said. "But it's
a moot point. I have no intention of engaging in a matrimonial union with
you," great conviction in my voice.

"Oh, but Doctor Tom, these animals have become like my children. Not only do I
care for them during the week, but I spend Saturday and Sunday here, feeding
them and grooming them and loving them and giving them some human contact.
There's Mike the monkey who just loves to sit on my shoulder while I'm doing
my lab chores, and Hippity-Hop the rabbit. Why, I've even decided that when we
have our two children one will be named Hoppity-Hip and the other Mike."

"Even if I were to agree to a union with you, Nurse Wheatley, and I can assure
you that possibility is the farthest from my thoughts, there is no way that I
would name my son by such a common appellation as Mike, or a daughter with
such a foolish name as Hoppity-Hip, or even Hippity-Hop, or whatever!"

But Nurse Wheatley was not to be deterred. "Oh, no, silly, our daughter will
be called Mike, short for Michaela, and we'll call our son Hoppity- Hip.
That's very unusual for a boy. I'm sure it will get him a lot of attention."

"I'm sure it will," I sneered. "But I have no intention of naming my children
Mike and Hoppity-Hip."

"Don't you want us to have children?" she pouted.

"Yes, of course I want us to have children," I responded. "I mean no. I mean
yes, I want children, just not with you, Ms. Wheatley!"

"Oh, but I've already made the decision," she said. "We will be married, one
of the penthouse apartments in our building will be our honeymoon suite, we
will have two children, and the girl will be named Mike and the boy
Hoppity-Hip."

"How dare you be so presumptuous, Nurse Wheatley!" I said, enraged at her
presumptuousness. "I regret that your persistence necessitates my decision to
terminate your employment with my medical practice!"

"Oh, you can't fire me," she giggled. "I've decided to become your business
partner as well as your life partner."

I was shocked again. "What are you telling me, Nurse Wheatley, that you are
irreplaceable in the function of this office? No one is irreplaceable!"

"Oh, doctor," Ms. Wheatley responded, "we would certainly miss you around
here."

What arrogance! What gall! From an employee - my employee! I signed her
paycheck! Well, my accountant did, but it was my money going into her pocket.
I would not stand for such conduct!

This was becoming a ridiculous conversation, as I saw it. "Ms. Wheatley, I
regret the fact that I must terminate your employment, but you brought it on
yourself. Please clear out your locker immediately and do not report for work
Monday morning!"

Well, I thought I was being very firm and authoritative, so I couldn't
understand why Ms. Wheatley broke into hysterical laughter. "Oh, Tom honey,"
she managed to say between her body-shaking laugh convulsions, "you've made me
laugh so hard I've wet my pants, I've got to run to the bathroom, and right
now! You stay right there! I haven't finished with you. If you leave you're
not going to like the consequences!" And she ran off to the ladies room before
I could get another word in.

Like I was going to sit here and wait like some Humpty Dumpty. I've read those
stories on the internet. Inferior male, scared to death of tiny but big titted
female, makes a break for freedom. Frightened male gets 1/2 step before being
captured by tiny but big titted female and returned to servitude. Yeah, right!
She's out the door to the ladies room and I'm out the door to my Mercedes.
That's that.

Part Three.

Maybe I should have known better. Monday morning I'm in the office early after
performing my scheduled surgery, and who should come prancing in, all bright
eyed and bushy tailed, but my late, not lamented, office assistant, Ms. Petra
Wheatley. "I thought I informed you, clearly and distinctly, with no
obfuscation, that your services are no longer required in my medical practice,
Ms. Wheatley. You have been terminated as of last Saturday!"

"Oh, I know you were kidding, partner," she chided me. And then Ms. Wheatley
leaned over my desk and pressed the office intercom button and announced,
"Office staff, please assemble in the conference room at once!" And she takes
off for the conference room with me hurrying along behind her. I figure she
wants to bid farewell to her friends and co-workers for the last five years.
What the hell, I can give her at least that much. I know it's goodbye because
for the first time in five years she's not wearing her starched white uniform,
she's got on a very fashionable blouse, very open at the neckline to expose
her more than ample cleavage, and with short sleeves showing her enormously
developed biceps. None of the office staff has ever seen her this way, and
none of them know that she has been partaking of the steroid compound we have
been developing for the cosmetic companies. Wait until they get a look at
this. There's enough gossip here to last at the water cooler for the next six
months!

The conference room is at the end of the building so the office staff got
there before Ms. Wheatley and I did. There was a collective gasp from the
staff when Petra entered the room, trailed by me. No one had ever seen her in
street clothes and now she presented herself in a physical form that defied
description. Very broad shoulders, protuberant breasts with nipples poking
holes in her designer blouse, deep cleavage, bulging biceps, all on display
for the first time to the office staff. But what really grabbed their
attention was her announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Doctor Martin and I have decided to form a partnership.
Our partnership will take the following form. Doctor Martin will be the
medical director, I will be the managing director. Now last Saturday I gave
Doctor Martin a direct order as my first official act as managing director. He
was to stay in one place until I returned from the ladies' powder room. Doctor
Martin disobeyed my order. He left without my permission. I warned him that
should he disobey me there would be consequences, and today he must face the
consequences of that disobedience. Doctor Martin, would you come here please?"

I was spellbound by this speech. I didn't want to have my office staff be
privy to an altercation between myself and Ms. Wheatley, so without thinking I
walked up to stand in front of her to find out what she had in mind. She took
my left hand and very easily bent it up behind my back and forced me down
across her lap onto her massive thighs. There were gasps of astonishment from
the assembled staff, in addition to the gasp of astonishment from me.

"Now," Ms. Wheatley said, "disobedience requires retribution. Since this is
Doctor Martin's first instance of willful transgression against a directive of
the managing director I propose that the punishment for his first offense be
minimal, and therefore I shall not remove his trousers or his underwear.
Doctor Martin's first punishment will be ten blows from the palm of my hand to
be administered to his gluteus maximus. In other words, Doctor Martin is to
receive a spanking," she giggled, "and hopefully in the future he will be more
attentive to the directions that I, as the managing partner, will decree.
Ladies and gentlemen, from now on my word is law around here, and that applies
also to all the high and mighty, even Doctor Martin." And then Petra proceeded
to administer my punishment, ten whacks on my rear end. Now that may sound
tame, but the palm of the hand, when propelled by twenty-four inch biceps,
makes one hell of an impression. By the third blow tears were beginning to
form on my eyelids. By the fifth blow I was crying openly. I don't know if it
was the pain, or the humiliation of having my office staff seeing me reduced
to a whimpering, crying, child-like adult, but I really let it all hang out.
After the tenth blow Petra picked me up off my prone position across her
massive thighs and sat me on her lap so that I could bury my head in her
shoulder and continue my sobbing as she comforted me.

Then Petra said, "Oh, by the way, staff, Doctor Martin would prefer that from
now on when you address him you call him Doctor Tom instead of Doctor Martin.
Doctor as a sign of respect for his professional achievement and Tom because
he has decided he has been a pompous ass long enough. Or rather I have decided
for him," she laughed.

"And there is one more announcement. Doctor Tom and I have decided that, in
addition to our professional partnership, we will also form a romantic
partnership. We have decided that we are to be husband and wife, or rather
again I have made the decision for him," she giggled. I'm glad she could see
the humor in the situation. I could not. But before I could deny anything the
office staff broke into applause and shouts of congratulation, and "Well done,
Petra!" As I moved my head to try to utter a denial Petra used her left hand
to ram my head so forcefully into her shoulder that the only oral sounds I
could make were several grunts, which of course sounded more like approvals
than anything else to the assemblage.

I was beside myself, and I know I was very, very red in the face, but I didn't
want a scene in front of the office staff. That would be unseemly and in bad
taste. "Ms. Wheatley, may I see you in my office this instant!" I hissed
through clenched teeth as Ms. Wheatley released me off her lap so that she
could rise to take congratulatory handshakes and hugs. I marched solemnly into
my private office and I could hear Ms. Wheatley skipping along gaily behind
me, nodding and smiling at all her worker cohorts and accepting their
heartfelt congratulations on her coming nuptials. I don't deny that they all
liked her. She was the youngest on my staff, and they all admired the
unselfish care and attention she lavished on our patients and on our lab
animals. She was cute, she had personality, and she just got along great with
everyone - except right now, me!

Once inside my private office I closed the door and angrily turned to face
her. But then I was looking into the very serious face of my young office
assistant. Her joyful demeanor had turned into a most serious look of
concentration. The intensity of her glare both shocked me and at the same time
frightened me.

"Tom," she said, "I don't like being made a fool of in front of my co-
workers. Now, you're to go out and announce to our friends out there that of
course we are to be married and that they're all invited to the wedding. Do
you understand me?"

"I shall do no such ... " My last word was cut off by her left hand tightening
around my throat and compressing my vocal cords. Regrettably, at this point I
no longer had sufficient control of my voice to adequately express my
disappointment in Ms. Wheatley's aberrant behavior. And now I was not so
interested in expressing my displeasure as I was in calming my alarm at
finding my feet leaving the floor as my twenty-five year old assistant slowly
raised me up. She then carried me, one-handed and seemingly with very little
effort, over to the nearest wall, where she pinned me, at least a foot off the
floor, against my array of framed college degrees and diplomas and
professional awards. Then she proceeded to bang me back and forth and back and
forth against the wall, shattering all the frames and glass covers of my
numerous awards. And then she lectured me.

"Look here, dummy. I, and I alone, have decided where we're going with this.
Evidently you're not a good listener. I am to be your partner. We are to be
married. We will live upstairs in one of the luxury penthouses located in this
building. We will have two children. The girl will be named Mike and the boy
will be named Hoppity-Hip. Is that all clear to you now?"

Well, as you can imagine, I was scared to death. How many young, attractive,
beautiful girls can lift you, with one hand, a foot or two off the floor? As
best I could I nodded my acquiescence. "Y ... y ... yes, y ... y ... yes," I
tried to croak out.

Well, that seemed to mollify her. A big grin spread across her beautiful face,
and she lowered me into a cradle hold and held me in her muscular arms, gazing
deeply into my eyes, smiling her beautiful smile. She said, "Honey, you're
shaking like a leaf. Oh, I know, you're scared of me and what I might do to
you, aren't you? Here, let me comfort you. I'm not an ogre. I'm just a strong
young woman who knows what she wants and gets it. Let me show you my softer
side. You needn't be afraid of me, unless you disobey me, and then, of course,
I may have to give you a refresher course in my rules and regulations. But
you'll soon learn what your boundaries are and what the consequences are of
violation of those parameters. I think you'll find that I am a fair
taskmaster, just as long as you understand the way I want things done," she
giggled.

Her softer side consisted of carrying me over to my large executive chair
behind my desk, and sitting down in my chair with me in her lap. She jiggled
me a little bit to get me comfortable. I knew I wasn't about to escape her
rock hard grip on my body so I figured I might as well accept what was coming.
Besides which, I was beginning to like it. Strange, huh? After all my
resistance here I was almost willing to accept the inevitable. I have no
siblings, I have no family. My parents were killed in an automobile accident
on their way to my graduation ceremonies at my medical school. Somehow I've
always felt guilt associated with that event. The proudest day of my life. The
worst day of my life. Since then I've been afraid to get close to anyone, yet
here is someone who wants to get close to me. So what if she is stronger and
more muscular than I am? Is that so bad? Maybe I'm smarter than she is. I have
an M.D. degree, she has nursing credentials. Is she going to reject me because
I may be smarter? We all bring certain abilities to a relationship. I'm not an
athlete, I'm a brain, and probably a nerd. She knows it, yet she accepts me.
She's an athlete, a trained, powerful, very muscular human being, a female,
who just happens to have the most gorgeous body of anybody I've ever seen, man
or woman, in ten years of medical practice. And she wants me, heaven knows
why. Should I reject her because of her physical characteristics? Should she
then reject me because of my mental characteristics? Actually, we made a good
team. We have worked together productively for five years now, without a
single controversy arising between us. She always accepted every single
direction I've given her in the workplace. Does that mean I should be unable
to accept every single direction she gives me in our private lives? The
realization was coming to me that I had only my work, that I had lost myself
in work, and I had no private life. And here someone was offering me a private
life. Beauty, companionship, love. I was beginning to mellow. I decided I was
being childlike and petulant. How often does one get to unite with one of the
most gorgeous women in Texas? So what if she had twenty- four inch biceps and
thirty-two inch thighs? The sixty-two inch double 'D' chest should make up for
any misgivings twenty-four inch biceps and thirty- two inch thighs might
create. So what if a lot of those sixty-two inches come from her enormously
muscular back development and prodigious pectorals? Hell, there was enough
left over to keep me busy for years to come. And hell, those steroid enhanced
nipples ain't so bad either. Maybe it wasn't such a bad deal after all.
Sitting on her lap, feeling those powerful thighs cradling me, and running my
hands up and down her massive biceps and triceps, and feeling those powerful
muscles in her back, I felt an overwhelming wave of need and desire flood my
senses. I put my hands around those powerful shoulders and drew myself in
tighter to her warm body, feeling comfort in the security I found there.
Feeling the warmth flowing from her skin into mine I suddenly felt contentment
and at peace for the first time in many, many years. Now I knew what had been
missing in my life all this time. I started planting small kisses on her neck,
and tracing the phenomenal width of her shoulders with my lips, feeling the
reassuring firmness underneath that silken skin.

"Let's go upstairs and look at those luxury penthouses," I whispered in her
ear.

The wedding was a wonderful affair. Petra promised to love and honor me, and I
promised to love, honor, and obey Petra. Hopefully not too many of the wedding
guests noticed the inclusion of the 'obey' phrase in my commitment, and not in
hers. The ceremony took place in the courtyard of our professional office
building. In case you think this was some kind of cramped garden area, it
wasn't so. The courtyard was expansive, with trees, lush foliage, an oasis set
in the middle of Dallas. Even the animals from our experimental lab who had
indirectly had a hand in bringing doctor and nurse together were brought out
into the courtyard and it was as if they knew something important was going on
as they watched intently and quietly during the marriage ceremony, and they
yipped and yapped and chattered along with the humans as the humans applauded
and cheered after the last "I do."

The party was great. The champagne flowed, the toasts to the newly married
couple were effusive, the groom looked very handsome in his tuxedo, and the
bride was absolutely radiant. And then it was time for the bride and groom to
depart. Before they left on their honeymoon they were going to spend their
first night of married life together in the office building penthouse which
they had bought as their residence. They made a break for it. They ran toward
the elevator as the wedding guests showered them with rice. They made it to
the elevator and turned and waved goodbye and blew kisses to all the guests
who had chased them. The last all the assembled guests saw of the newly
married couple as the elevator door closed was the bride bending over,
sweeping her new husband up into her arms, and then holding him tightly
cradled to her massive chest, one arm under his buttocks holding him securely
to her, his arms around her neck and plastering it with kisses, and the
flushed bride happily waving goodbye with her free arm. For a moment there was
stunned silence. Then the cheers could be heard up the elevator shaft as the
couple ascended to their penthouse apartment. The assembled guests knew that
somehow this was going to be a different kind of marriage.

The End