Doctor and Delivery Man

(Special thanks to James Rozo)

Preface

An emotionally insecure, young van driver, faring rather poorly in his job with the Acme Delivery Company, was told by his supervisor that he would face a poor job review if he “didn’t shape up.” Embarrassed, he sought advice from his parents, whose support he provided.

“Mom, dad, can you help me? I don’t know what to do. I wasn’t told.”

Ishir Mayadas, a retired janitor, looked at his beloved Indira, making naan. She looked back before speaking, “Son, we wouldn’t know what to do either. Why don’t you ask one of the volunteers at our day care center? They’re nice.”

Azim gathered his courage and made an appointment with a nice lady who smiled at him. She referred him to a free counselor at County Services. There, a friendly, old gentleman asked penetrating questions and heard Azim’s answers with sympathy.

Sensing deep-seated anxiety, he sat back, “Azim, you need a level of professional guidance that only an experienced psychiatrist can provide. Luckily, we are working with one now who may be interested in your case. He is experimenting with what we are told is a new form of therapy. If you’d like, we can refer you to him.”

“Sir, I have deliveries to make.  One right now, today, that’s almost late. I’ve got to go.”

That was then. The world of coincidences had a door just waiting for for the young delivery man, one which opened with the very delivery mentioned.

What Ensued

(You may want to refresh your memory about that special delivery)

DR. SETH APOLLYON

PSYCHIATRIST

by appointment only

read the gold lettering on the office door. Opened, there was a reception area with a single chair for the patient to await his summons to the inner sanctum. At hand were current journals in the field – Anal Pleasure & Health Monthly, Findings of JAMA on Anal Predation, Journal of Psychopathy of Male Sexuality, and Ass Forever: Have at It!

Twenty-year-old Azim Mayadas could not decide whether to look at them. He was ten minutes early for his appointment and somewhat nervous. Shakily, he riffled through a few pages, eyes wide at charts and illustrations. His seat seemed to want to shift in the chair. A squeeze of his sphincter did not help.

So unsettled was he that he feared sweat would overwhelm his deodorant.

Insecurity lay behind most of his determinations. People considered him a ‘worry wort.’ Some, a ‘fussbudget.’ Names he did not like stuck to him with persistence. With reason. He never knew how to get out of any predicament. Others usually came to his rescue.

Like the other day, the day Dr. Apollyon gave him leave to come for an appointment – after fucking the stars out of him and handing over his professional card. He had gone to make the heavy, bulky delivery of a new stationery bike to a residence in a good neighborhood, where a naked youth greeted him so abruptly he did not know what to do. By hypnotic direction of Dr. Apollyon, he had been forced to give up his penis’s virginity, and summarily was raped to rapture.

Lost in incomprehensible reminiscence, caramel-skinned Azim did not notice the inner door opening.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Stern voice. To be obeyed.

Stultified, Azim was placed on his back on white paper spread over a padded cabinet-table the like of which he had never seen.

“Look at the ceiling. See the mirror up there? That’s you my hands are feeling. I wish you had come in your delivery man’s one-piece uniform. It would be so much nicer to open for my examination than this shirt, that belt, and those pants. Arms like yours have no fight in them. Good. Breathe normally while I unbutton you – and feel your chest. Un-huh, your heart’s thumping. You’re scared but you’re getting excited by my touch.”

Azim wondered why the doctor was leaning over him and locking their eyes with – what? – sympathy.

“This nipple.. pinched gently.. and the other.. pinched back.. and forth.. will lull you.. while my voice..is your.. guide… I’m soothing you.. lulling you.. where I want..you..to..be..to answer my.. questions, with truth…Am I clear?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“You are in..my hands now… Under my hands..my fingers… These pinches.. are my way.. of turning you.. on to be.. receptive.. to me… Right?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“Do you masturbate?”

“No, doctor.”

“Why not?

“I promised my mother. No sex before marriage.”

“You deny.. your gender’s.. defining part.. your penis.. your lingam.. its purpose?.. Answer.. and explain.”

Apollyon’s pauses were part of his strategy to hypnotize. Each occurred with the rhythm of a, old-fashioned pocket watch’s pendular swing.

“Yes, but only until I marry. I touch only to wash.”

Apollyon strayed from nipples, “I’m releasing your belt.. and pulling it.. out of our way.. our way, Azim.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“I may.. need it.. later.”

“Yes, doctor.”

His hypnotic state sensed no threat.

“I want everything out of the way to access and examine your chest, your stomach, even your navel.”

In the minutes which followed, Azim’s vitals were taken and recorded on a clipboard, the glands in his throat and underarms were palpated along with his nipples, his pants were drawn down to his knees, his balls were stretched in one direction, his cock in another.

“Turn over.. while.. I remove.. your shirt.”

Azim’s pants were relocated to his ankles. In effect, the pants fettered him. He could not move.

Apollyon, placing a small cushion under the young man’s face, told him to reach beneath his chest and work on his nipples with thumbs and fingers. The stethoscope listened to Azim’s back, pressing professionally here and there to allay possible suspicions. It was set aside while rubber gloves were donned and the left hand lubed.

He’s under. Daydreaming or just blank.

“This must be checked and measured.”  His long, middle finger rubbed waiting anal rim, smoothing a coat of KY. It pulsed its way a little at a time into the body-warm tract, soon to be made a chamber for his commanding pleasure.

Azim sighed. To be felt inside that way was new. To be reamed so slowly felt better, like nothing in his lonely life. The addition of a second finger discomfited at first, but the additional lube it brought into him and the doctor’s even slower rotating massage eased the turmoil to his nerve endings and helped relax the sensitive area’s muscles.

Thoughts drifted back to where they were in the waiting room. He felt he was being looked after, being cared for, that he was worthy of the attention.

Something longer replaced the doctor’s fingers. It claimed Azim by the way it was driven in and slid smoothly back and in again before being left in place for some time. The doctor’s rustling sounds around the room meant Azim was not alone.

Pressure down there was brought to bear. He had the doctor’s attention again.

“Slide my way until your feet are on the floor. Yes. Upper body stays flat the way it is.”

In and out, in and out. A warm hand claimed his lower spine.

Out. Something else. Broader. Azim moaned at the intrusion.

“Shhhh…” cautioned.

The floor may have felt cold to his feet but, where he was bending, the movement inside, especially its slow, windmill turns, heated up every tissue. Forth and back, forth and back – feeling better as minutes passed.

“Stand up while I hold this in you. Now remove your shirt, your pants from your ankles. Good to see all of you, tall boy. I want you to stand up, turn and face me, your hand holding the dildo in place. Time’s come for you to lean back from your waist up – as far as you can.”

Apollyon bent to grab skinny Azim behind the knees and – flash-fast – lifted his lower limbs, toppling the young man onto his back on the table and hoisting his ankles overhead. From perfectly situated buttocks there protruded the dildo’s end.

He’s like a spineless insect on a pin. I shift his position at my will. It disorients him. Renders him helplessly obedient.

Feet which waved about were secured to stirrups, then spread widely. Apollyon’s path lay open before him…for his convenience. The move he took was decisive.

To Azim’s breathless astonishment, hard, wide, long cock replaced dildo to sound firmly against a place that hurt when pushed into. That place being pummeled was his rectum’s turning point.

Apollyon continually swung back and scooped forward. Azim squinted at pelvic strength being applied as if by a drummer. In its unremitting while, the fuck swept his passage like a velvet brush until he was reprimanded for neglecting his nipples.

“Ply them! And breathe in through your nostrils. Out from your mouth slowly, steadily.”

For a moment, Apollyon throbbed in the sheath that his fucking custom-fitted to himself. He re-launched the attack, blood rushing to his head at a helpless spasm of Azim’s. The scintillant instant inspired thrusts as energetic as before.

Each impact shook Azim but none disturbed his daze from being so masterfully fucked. A glow emanated from the point of Apollyon’s depth-diving contacts. It coursed through his body with warmth not intended by the doctor. He saw himself in the ceiling’s mirror.

Apollyon sensed a change. Signs were written on the boy’s face. Might something be about to impend? He extracted his weapon, demanding with a slap, “You! Presume, will you?” Unfastening both ankles, he could have squeezed the drawn-up scrotum but instead, ordered, “Turn over, face down. Pull yourself completely forward on my table.”

To satisfy himself, Apollyon reached under to force Azim’s genitals in the other direction. The boy’s butt attracted a few spanks, not the loving kind. The color-raising kind. Himself hastily nude, Apollyon spat where he had spanked.

A stool proved handy in boosting him to his knees over the prepared site. Cock at hole, he lowered himself pelvis first, stomach then into the hollow above, chest against back, chin to nape where, like a jungle cat, he clamped his possession’s trapezius with his teeth.

The fuck rampaged in blazing fashion thanks to Apollyon’s fitness and decision to outperform his previous prowess. Not for long. So rhythmic were his collisions into the hapless Indian that insemination was imminent. Were it not liquid, conflagration would have consumed them.

* * *

“You have been psychologically centered, Azim. It’s temporary but, for the moment, stabilizing. Return to your delivery job which requires little thought. Between deliveries or while you are waiting for assignments, dwell as your limits permit on how this first injection’s rigor has honored you as an individual. I tailored it to your need – to heighten your confidence in me as your therapist.”

Azim listened. Heard himself being told, “Hold my seed where it is as long as you can.” Hand directions replaced words to indicate it was time to dress. Socks, shirt, pants, socks and shoes on, he reached for his belt.

“It was good of you to provide that in case you were recalcitrant. You weren’t, so I did not have reason to deploy it. One of my patients last season required that his ass be beaten before every treatment here. It is a fact that corporal punishment stimulates some men as nothing else. They even shoot their loads, if I may wax colloquial, from it before injection. Might you be similarly inclined?”

The doctor’s question frightened Azim.

“No, sir,” he swallowed hard.

“Very well. In order for my treatments to have the desired effect, you will need to see me twice a week. Again, day after tomorrow. What is your work schedule?”

“If I came at five-thirty, I could be in my uniform.”

Apollyon’s spirits elevated. He thought of that on his own. My method works already!

* * *

Treatment number three began after Azim’s knees were against his chin, his folded legs bound to his chest by three-inch wide polyester packing straps buckled tightly on top.

A gag prevented response.

“Your arms I’ve left free,” Dr. Apollyon said, “so that you can play with yourself while I involve myself here.”

‘Here’ was Azim’s much-traveled pucker. Its pout, like a brat’s mouth, invited smacks. Happy to oblige, the doctor used a palm on it. “Preparation needs a different approach this time. This must smart,” he said as the room echoed each smack, “to earn assuagement by lubricated cock.”

A dry finger drove in uncomfortably.

“See? – I don’t mean literally. Understand? You know I’m right.”

As swats began again, Azim nodded up and down to confirm, hands leaving his genitals in an effort to leverage his position. More swats, until his breathing labored audibly.

“You’re not concentrating. Focus on what I’m doing for you or I’ll crush what’s in my hand.”

His balls.

“You’ve disappointed people all your meaningless life.” Harshness was Apollyon’s intent – to emphasize Azim’s hapless situation, one needed his medical help. “Never showed initiative. Were always a follower. Lackadaisical. Never anything more than the basics by way of job performance.”

Negative observations were accompanied by varied moves of Apollyon’s fingers in what was then an open hole, but not a gape. Patted, slapped, rotated within, reamed mercilessly.

The target must be properly primed for a meaningful fuck. I’ll leave it empty to settle down.

* * *

For an undetermined time, Azim’s bindings impeded circulation in his legs. His reachable sex dwindled.  

Apollyon’s large physical endowment once more took possession. As it plummeted in, Azim closed his eyes for a quick moment, just long enough to take in the initial riot of sensations in his rectum. In this strange position, his innards became lively. They answered thrusts with inner quivers. When Apollyon shifted just right, his cockhead shoveled generously throughout.

It was heaven.

Outside, a hell of numbness – unrelieved for the duration of Apollyon’s vigorous lesson.

During his ramming, a perverse idea occurred. He would tickle Azim’s feet.

They felt nothing. All feeling was in his bottom.

Sensing it was a just time to cum, Apollyon shot hard and fast into the immobile delivery man. What he jettisoned could have been measured in spoonsful. It turned the young rectum into a sluice for uncontrolled shots of masculine life force.

Unbuckled and de-gagged, Azim stretched stiff joints painfully, his ass brimming, and was unable to rise until the questioning was over.

“Aren’t you now better integrated than last time?”

He did not know.

“Do you doubt the assurance behind that question?”

“No, sir,” he loosened his tongue. “I….”

“You have something to say?”

“I can face my work with more appreciation for…for the people who schedule me.”

What perception!

“You must tell them exactly that, Azim. When you do, look them in the eye as earnestly as you did me when I was treating you. And when we meet for your next session in three days, report to me the details.”

* * *

Racked by his orgasm’s violence, crazed by its after-effects, still submerged in the calm body of twenty-year-old Azim Mayadas, Seth Apollyon feared that if, he stayed any longer, the serene receptacle would re-ignite his passion beyond the slight control left to him. Moving backward like a crayfish, he withdrew, his cock soppily dripping its froth.

”Thank you, doctor. You’ve refreshed me.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Indeed.”

* * *

Their eleventh session.

Unneeded, many words, directives. A few only. Azim’s all-knowing smile spoke his poise although, with a few flicks of his eyelids, he said a lot.

“Come to see me this same time on Wednesday,” the doctor separated himself.

Azim rose from their horizontal tango with casual ease to don a freshly laundered white jumpsuit on which was embroidered in dark blue metallic thread AZIM MAYADAS – SUPERVISOR. Apollyon-inspired initiative had resulted in his requests for extra deliveries, in his propositions for increased efficiencies in setting schedules, in first a raise then a promotion, finally to his present, managerial role in the company.

With the insistence of a drill-press, Dr. Apollyon’s hypnosis-instilled injections of permeating empowerment-sperm and instructions to achieve independence of everyone but himself succeeded. Wussy Azim had metamorphosed into a demanding positivist.

Awareness of his doctor’s potent contributions per anus – at first forced – led by gradual means to a reversal of control. With blossomed wiles, he accomplished the previously unthinkable.

He addicted Apollyon to his ass.

* * *

Now, his diet strictly regulated around folate-strong greens, lean meats for zinc, salmon and tuna for Omega-3 fatty acids, nuts such as macadamias and almonds, and watermelon or pineapple (for dessert), Apollyon’s sperm count and ejaculate quantity met Azim’s standards. Regularly, every other day.

His balls needed a day between to accumulate the sufficiency. For upkeep of his health, Apollyon was assigned a gym coach to exercise him with emphasis on pelvic trusts (butt lifts on his back and standing) and lung development (athletic breathing). An on-going grant for the coach came from the Acme Delivery Company Foundation).

Apollyon’s schedule to service Azim: Monday, Wednesday, Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, etc.

Grueling but immensely successful.  Not only did the Mayadas family benefit from their son’s soaring reputation (new appliances, a large-screen television, a credit card to use at the Indian grocery) but so did Apollyon’s practice.

Thanks to results of his extensive work in Azim’s transformation, published in a series of articles in specialized, aboveboard and underground journals, the psychiatrist established record-setting methodologies for male group sex therapies in European and Asian clinics. Financially rewarded and his reputation enhanced, he looked forward to vigorous years of teamwork ahead with Azim.

For his part, Azim, although content in his job, was devoted to his doctor and to projects occasionally abroad with which he consulted and assisted. His confidence during demonstrations, like his personal story, struck awe into any doubter.

Announcements of personal appearances by AZIM & SETH ensured attendance by those avid to put into practice “emotionally transformative experiences” under the rubric, COCKWORK IN THE AXIS OF ASS.

If you acknowledge the stories you read here with scores and comments, you encourage that there will be more. Authors need recognition of their efforts the way artists and composers do. We create for the perception of others – those who read, those who look, those who listen.

Play your part, please.

* * *