Story: My Name is Dr. Dark 1 of 2  g12   
      
   (M/f, pedo)   
      
      
      
   Chapter 1                    Trap   
      
   ~  My name is Dr. Richard Dark. Doctor of medicine, healer of the sick,   
   ~  and distinguished member of this community. I am fairly successful   
   ~  in my profession without attracting too much attention from my   
   ~  peers. Being a partner in a medical practice and a consultant at the   
   ~  local hospital, I lead a fairly active life. Take this morning for   
   ~  instance…   
      
      
   ~  I have spent my morning examining patients, dispensing drugs and   
   ~  writing up notes in the illegible manner that us doctors are   
   ~  renowned for.   
      
   ~  Being a senior partner, and at only the age of thirty-five I might   
   ~  add, I have the luxury of picking and choosing who I see, filtering   
   ~  any unwanted, unattractive patients to my juniors. As you may   
   ~  imagine, there are plenty of those, and so my lesser colleagues are   
   ~  kept extremely busy whilst I enjoy a more, shall we say, relaxed   
   ~  working environment. After all, stress can kill you know!   
   ~  Believe me, I'm a doctor.   
      
   "Bzzzzzz."   
   "Doctor Dark, Mary and Heather Weaver are here to see you."   
      
   ~  Oh, excuse me would you. Work beckons.   
      
   The doctor presses down on the intercom.   
   "Thank you nurse Jones. Send them in please."   
      
   ~  This should prove interesting. I'd stick around if I were you.   
      
   A few moments later the door opens and in marches Nurse Jones, a   
   matronly type in her late forties, followed by Mrs Weaver and her   
   daughter Heather. The nurse proceeds over to the doctor's desk and   
   hands him a light-brown cardboard file.   
      
   "Thank you very much Nurse. Hold all my calls would you."   
      
   "Yes doctor", comes the immediate reply. Nurse Jones has worked for   
   Doctor Dark for almost seven years and is his number one fan. She holds   
   the consultant in the highest regard, and for her, he can do no wrong.   
      
   ~  Oh, but I'm trying!   
      
   The full bosomed woman closes the door on her way out, whilst the   
   doctor courteously stands up and gestures for his visitors to sit.   
      
   "Please, won't you have a seat Mrs Weaver, you too Heather." The   
   handsome physician produces a warm, friendly smile, nurtured over a   
   number of years to relax the patient and reassure them that they are in   
   the safest of hands.   
      
   ~  Well not yet. But hey! They've only just got here!   
      
   Mary Weaver is an attractive brunette in her mid thirties. Her curvy,   
   hour-glass figure is wrapped in a smart business suit consisting of a   
   pin-striped skirt and jacket, under which a slightly transparent silk   
   blouse presses against a fine pair of breasts.   
      
   Her daughter, Heather, holds a strong resemblance to her mother, except   
   of course that she is only about a third of Mary's age and hasn't   
   developed quite so much in the hips or mammary department. Nonetheless,   
   her small, cone-shaped titties make a decent enough impression on the   
   T-shirt that she wears tucked into a pair of tight fitting faded jeans.   
      
   ~  Oh yes, I want her.   
      
   "Now then," says Dr. Dark forcing himself to take his eyes off the   
   young girl for a moment and look down at her medical records. They   
   consist of the usual array of tetanus and chicken pox jabs, together   
   with a couple of trips to casualty for minor knocks and scrapes.   
   Nothing serious, a typical medical history.   
      
   "So what seems to be the problem?" The doctor looks up and switches   
   glances between Mary and her daughter.   
      
   Heather Weaver turns to her mother and anxiously wills her to do the   
   talking. Her silent plea is registered with the woman on her left who   
   clears her throat and begins to speak.   
      
   "Well Dr. Dark, Heather's been feeling rather poorly for the last   
   couple of days now, so I've kept her off school. But when she still   
   felt unwell this morning I thought it best to arrange an appointment   
   with you immediately. Thank you for fitting us in so quickly by the   
   way."   
      
   "Not at all, Mrs Weaver. You did the right thing."   
      
   Turning his gaze to the young teenager, Dr Dark softens his voice.   
   "So what are your symptoms young lady?"   
      
   The girl, alarmed that the question is directed at her, again nervously   
   looks to her mother, as if she doesn't speak English and needs her to   
   interpret. Again Mary Weaver fields the question.   
      
   "Erm, well it started as a stomach ache on Sunday afternoon, didn't it   
   Heather?" She seeks confirmation from her silent offspring who just   
   nods, slouched in her seat with her arms folded.   
      
   "And since then she's been having a lot of stabbing pains. I gave her   
   some paracetamol but they haven't seem to done any good."   
      
   "Hmmm, I see." Doctor Dark sits, hands clasped for several moments,   
   seemingly deep in thought.   
      
   ~  I've made my diagnosis already my friends. But why let that spoil   
   ~  the fun. First though, I feel it's time we heard from the patient.   
   ~  After all, she's only had a walk-on part so far.   
      
   "How old are you Heather?"   
      
   The question is simple enough and Mrs Weaver feels sufficiently   
   embarrassed enough not to step in and answer it. This time her daughter   
   is on her own.   
      
   "Thirteen" Heather replies timidly, immediately averting her gaze down   
   from the doctor's stare.   
      
   ~  Ah, thirteen… my lucky number.   
      
   Richard Dark knows this information already of course; Heather's date   
   of birth is indicated clearly in his notes. But he uses this as an   
   exercise in opening up the youngster, so to speak. Once she answers one   
   question, other answers will follow. And so he will let her talk   
   herself into trouble... more trouble than she can possibly imagine.   
      
   "Uhuh... and you've started your periods I take it?"   
      
   The sweet teenager blushes heavily and mumbles a yes.   
      
   "Over a year ago, Doctor", embellishes Heather, eager to keep the   
   prestigious doctor satisfied with the information he's receiving.   
      
   "But you're not having one now?"   
      
   "No." The monosyllabic replies are getting a trifle tedious for the   
   doctor and he decides to take a more hands-on approach.   
      
   "Right well we'd better take a look at you then. Would you mind   
   slipping off your jeans and T-shirt and jumping up onto the examining   
   table?" The instructions are given in such a calm, matter-of-fact   
   manner, that neither of the two females can sense the feeling of eager   
   anticipation the doctor is experiencing.   
      
   ~  Oh, those six years of medical school were well worth it you know.   
      
   Heather doesn't move straight away. She is clearly not looking forward   
   to undressing, one little bit.   
      
   “Come on Heather, don't keep the doctor waiting”, chides her mother.   
      
   Reluctantly the youngster slips off her shoes and gets to her feet.   
   Then, turning her back to the closely observing stranger, she starts to   
   undo the button of her jeans.   
      
   ~  Show me the money. Show me the money!   
      
   Heather tugs the jeans down over her slim thighs giving the doctor a   
   great view of her firm bottom, covered in cream coloured panties.   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)