Doct Novels & Stories

Bri Angela, Marmara et moi sommes scotchées aux lèvres du docteur. Sa lenteur ne fait qu'augmenter notre anxiété. -L'opération n'a pas été facile mais tout s'est bien passé. Nous avons soufflé un coup. Moi : Docteur, qu'est ce que vous entendez pas "tout s'est bien passé" -Il a démenti le diagnostic. Nos prévisions disaient qu'il n'allait pas s'en sortir avec l'usage de ses membres mais il est en parfaite possession de ces derniers. Monsieur Tony Smith n'est pas paralysé.

Tanong agad ni mom Nakita kong bumuntong hininga ang doktor, "As of now, hindi pa namin masasabi unless magising sya sa comatose" Para akong binuhusan ng malamig na tubig sa narinig Comatose? "D-doc, kelan po sya magigising?" Naiiyak na sabi ni mom "Hindi pa namin sigurado kung kelan. We just need to hope for the best na sana magising sya ng maaga. Excuse me po muna" paalam nung doctor Hindi pa gaano nakakalayo ang doktor nung may humabol sa kanya na nurse. May pinakita sya dito na puting papel at binasa muna ito ng doktor. Pagkatapos ay binalikan nya kami ulit

She moaned out, and then he smiled. “Good.” He said as he pressed the vibrator back into place. “Now we build you up again. What is that now, boss?” “Four.” The doctor said from the couch where he was watching everything closely. She reached over to the man standing by the table, and she began to rub his cock through the fabric of his pants. He groaned as she did open-palmed. She ran his length and then up and down.

No doubt. ***

My hands were slightly shaking as I typed Sophia’s name. The financial records loaded. What I saw made my stomach drop. Sophia’s salary as a doctor was good, but not that good. Yet there were multiple large “donor payments” and “consulting fees” coming in from a private account. The account name wasn’t listed, but the routing code traced back to one of Richard Black’s shell companies. I stared at the screen, my heart racing. Why would Richard be paying her? The thought hit me like a punch. Unless she’s not just a doctor…

Reyes yelled, stumbling back as a black-clad figure placed a gloved hand on his chest. Vance ignored the shouting. He stepped up to the edge of the violet glass. He pulled a pair of dark, specialized goggles from his coat pocket—lenses that shimmered with a strange, oily film—and slipped them on. He stared down at the glowing symbols embedded in the transmuted concrete: the Crab (\text{♋}) and the Interlinked Circles (\text{⚯}). Miller watched the federal agent closely, looking for a flicker of awe, or even a hint of confusion. He found neither. Vance didn't look shocked. He didn't look like a man seeing a miracle for the first time.

She takes me straight to an x-ray room where Yorick gently lays me on the table. “Alpha, I need you to step out of the room,” the doctor says. “I’ll be right back,” he says and rushes out. “What’s your name, Alpha?” the doctor asks. “Cyra. Cyra Teymoori.” “Alpha Cyra, I’m Dr. Johnston. I’m going to get an x-ray of your knee and see how bad it is,” she says. “Stay still for me. I know it hurts.” She steps out of the room, and I hear a mechanical humming sound before she comes back in. Yorick bursts into the room right behind her, his phone to his ear.

My voice a lifeline in the madness. "You're okay. I've got you. I won't let go." Another explosion outside rattles the walls. The camp is turning into a warzone triage center. Then a wolf, half-shifted, barely upright, burst through the door, his eyes wide and frantic. "Doc, Doc! It's Vladimir! He's down! You have to come now!"