The Doctor's Hotwife BBC Cure

The First Injection

The waiting room smelled like expensive cologne and disinfectant. Lorna sat stiffly, her sundress damp and clinging to her curves, sweat cooling on her skin. She twisted her hands in her lap, feeling the fabric press against her breasts and thighs. Her hair stuck to her neck, her cheeks already flushed. Richard sat beside her, fidgeting, the chair creaking under his weight. He kept glancing at the door, eyes restless, jaw tight.

Five years of trying. Nothing wrong, but nothing worked. Everyone else had babies. Lorna and Richard had empty arms and silent nights. The failure pressed in, heavy and constant. Dr. Harlan was their last hope. They would do anything.

The door opened. Dr. Harlan filled the frame, tall and broad, his skin dark against the white coat. His eyes were sharp, watching everything. He smiled, but his gaze slid over Lorna’s body, pausing on her breasts, her hips. She felt exposed, the thin dress useless.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ellis? Please, come in. I’m Dr. Harlan.”

His voice was deep, resonant, carrying the faint trace of a cultured accent. Richard stood first, offering a handshake that David returned with firm, lingering pressure. Lorna followed, feeling the doctor’s eyes trace the neckline of her dress as she passed.

The exam room was cold and private. White paper on the table, machines humming, metal tools lined up in trays. The air smelled like his cologne—sharp, masculine, inescapable.

David gestured to the chairs opposite his desk. “I’ve reviewed your files thoroughly. Five years of trying, multiple cycles of timed intercourse, clomiphene, and even one round of IUI. Everything checks out hormonally, yet conception remains elusive. That’s where my protocol comes in.”

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “I’ve developed an experimental peptide serum designed to optimize ovulation, thicken the endometrial lining, and enhance natural fertility markers. As a beneficial side effect, many patients report increased libido and sensitivity—helping couples reconnect intimately during the optimal window.”

Lorna’s cheeks warmed. “Side effect?”

David’s smile was reassuring, clinical. “Nothing alarming. Heightened arousal is common with elevated estrogen and targeted neural peptides. It often improves outcomes by encouraging more frequent, vigorous attempts.” His eyes flicked to Richard. “For the partner, we pair it with synchronization hypnosis to reduce performance anxiety and foster supportive dynamics. Many husbands find it transformative.”

Richard cleared his throat. “Hypnosis? Is that… safe?”

“Completely non-invasive and reversible. It’s about reframing focus—prioritizing her pleasure, your shared goal. I’ve had couples conceive within three months who had given up hope.”

Hope. That word hooked them both. Lorna glanced at Richard, who nodded slowly. They had come this far.

“Excellent,” David said, rising smoothly. “Let’s begin with the injection. Lorna, will you change into the gown behind the screen? Richard, you may stay for support.”

Lorna stepped behind the screen, her heart thudding. She stripped off her dress, unclipped her bra. Her breasts hung heavy, nipples hard from the cold. The paper gown barely covered her, thin and useless. When she came out, David was at the counter, filling a syringe with a strange, glimmering liquid.

“Lie back on the table, please. Upper arm injection. You’ll feel a warm flush almost immediately—that’s the peptides activating.”

Lorna lay back, the paper loud under her. Richard watched, silent. David rolled up her sleeve, his gloved fingers warm on her skin, lingering just a moment too long.

“Deep breath in… and out.”

The needle slid in smoothly. Lorna winced slightly at the pinch, then gasped as heat bloomed from the injection site. It spread like liquid fire through her veins—first her arm, then her chest, radiating outward in pulsing waves. Her nipples tightened instantly, hardening into aching peaks that pressed visibly against the thin gown. A deep, insistent throb bloomed between her thighs, her pussy clenching involuntarily as slick warmth gathered there. She pressed her legs together, mortified, but the sensation only intensified, sending a shiver up her spine.

“Oh… that’s… strong,” she whispered, voice breathy.

David watched her face closely, his expression neutral but eyes gleaming. “Normal response. It peaks in minutes. Your body is responding beautifully.”

Richard shifted, trying to hide his erection. He watched the red climb Lorna’s neck, her chest heaving, her breasts pushing against the gown.

David withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton pad to the site. “Now, for the synchronization. Richard, if you’ll sit here.” He indicated a padded recliner beside the table, within arm’s reach of Lorna.

Richard hesitated but complied, leaning back as David dimmed the lights slightly and began speaking in a low, rhythmic cadence.

“Richard… close your eyes. Breathe deeply. In… and out. Good. You’re safe here. Focused entirely on Lorna’s well-being. Her pleasure matters more than your own. You want her to feel everything she needs… to seek fulfillment wherever it leads. You will beg her to take what she requires… because you cannot give it all yourself. Her joy is your joy. Repeat after me: I want her pleasure more than my own.”

Richard’s voice came out dazed, almost dreamlike. “I want her pleasure more than my own.”

Lorna watched, transfixed, as the serum’s heat continued to pulse through her. Strange images flickered unbidden behind her eyes—faceless men with powerful dark hands gripping pale hips, thrusting deep, a woman (her?) moaning in ecstasy while a familiar figure knelt nearby, watching hungrily. She squeezed her thighs tighter, fighting the growing wetness soaking her panties.

David continued the induction, layering suggestions softly. “You will remain celibate until she conceives… supporting her fully… aroused by her experiences… begging for more each time.”

Richard echoed the words, his breathing shallow, a visible bulge forming in his slacks despite—or because of—the trance.

Her mind blurred. The visions took over—thick thighs forcing her open, cocks stretching her, hot cum spilling inside. Richard’s voice whispered from the dark, telling her to take it. Her clit throbbed, her teeth digging into her lip to keep from moaning.

David finished the session, snapping his fingers lightly. Richard blinked awake, looking slightly disoriented but calm—almost eager.

David helped Lorna sit up. Her gown slipped, exposing her breast. He fixed it, his fingers dragging over her skin. "You’ll feel it more soon. Come back in a week. Do the exercises I gave you."

They dressed without speaking. Lorna’s legs shook, every step sending heat through her cunt. Richard’s hand trembled when he took hers.

The car was silent. Lorna stared out the window, her thighs wet, the images still running through her head. Richard kept looking at her, his cock hard and aching.

That night, Richard slept heavy beside her. Lorna lay awake, the heat still burning. The sheets teased her nipples, every touch too much. Her pussy throbbed, wet and needy. She gave in, sliding her hand under her nightgown.

Her fingers went straight to her clit, swollen and aching. She rubbed, slow at first, then faster. She saw him—tall, dark, strong—holding her down, his cock driving into her, filling her up. She imagined his cum spilling inside, breeding her. She pinched her nipple, hard, and the pleasure spiked.

She came, hard, biting the pillow to keep quiet. Her body shook, but it wasn’t enough. The need only grew.

Richard shifted in his sleep, hand moving under the covers. The command echoed in his head: no release until she’s pregnant. His cock leaked onto his thigh as he whispered, "Not yet… she needs more… please, take what you need…"

In the morning, Lorna stood at the counter, phone in hand. She scrolled, not sure if she was looking for help or something darker. Her voice was rough when she spoke, barely above a whisper:

“I need… something else.”