Chapter 56: Choosing a Doctor
The scent of sex, humid and musky, still hung thick in the terrace air when Sophia’s announcement sliced through Lena’s post-coital haze. Lena laughed, a low, satisfied sound, while Bruce ran a hand through his hair, the swirling gold in his eyes dimming to a calmer green. "Clinics too sterile," Lena murmured, shifting carefully in the chair, her hand instinctively covering her belly where their son stirred. "Let him breathe the jungle. Let him feel the life here first."
Sophia nodded, her sharp eyes missing nothing of Lena’s disheveled state or Bruce’s lingering heat. "As you wish. Though Vance will be… perceptive."
An hour later, the compound’s sleek, modern clinic felt jarringly clinical after the lush villa. Bruce sat, radiating calm power, flanked by his wives. Priya, though clearly exhausted, projected professional authority. Jasmine sprawled with defiant ease, her huge belly a testament. Erika perched more delicately, her pale blonde hair a stark contrast to the dark wood. Camille stood near Bruce, a pillar of strength, her thick legs planted firmly. Ketut sat serenely beside Lena, whose sharp intellect was already dissecting the newcomers. Gabriel slept peacefully in a nearby bassinet.
Dr. Aris Thorne entered first. Mid-fifties, weary eyes, a sharp intelligence dulled by disillusionment. He offered a curt nod, his gaze sweeping the room, lingering perhaps a fraction too long on the wives’ striking forms, particularly Jasmine’s and Lena’s legendary assets. His questions about prenatal care were competent but lacked warmth. When he mentioned "unconventional family structures" with a hint of clinical detachment, Jasmine’s green eyes narrowed. Lena exchanged a subtle glance with Camille. Off, the glance said. Not right for us.
Then Dr. Elara Vance entered, and the air shifted. Russian, late thirties, tall and striking. Platinum blonde hair pulled into a severe bun, grey eyes like glacial ice scanning the room with unnerving focus. Her tailored suit was impeccable, her posture rigidly professional. Yet, as her gaze landed on Bruce, seated at the center of his family, a tiny, almost imperceptible tremor ran through her. Her knuckles whitened where she gripped her tablet. She introduced herself with crisp precision, her accent adding a layer of cool efficiency.
Bruce watched her. He felt the echo of his compulsion within her – the driving urgency, the certainty of this path – but beneath it, a fierce, tightly controlled intellect and an ambition that burned cold. He also felt the sudden, involuntary spike in her pulse when he met her gaze directly, his hazel eyes swirling like molten glass. Priya led the questioning about protocols, multiple births, emergencies. Vance’s answers were swift, comprehensive, brilliant. She spoke of contingency plans, specialized equipment needs, managing high-risk multiples with the confidence of a battlefield commander.
But her gaze kept flickering back to Bruce. When he spoke, asking a pointed question about Priya’s own delivery plan, Vance’s voice hitched slightly. Her grey eyes dilated as they tracked the shift of muscle in his arm, the commanding set of his jaw. Jasmine, catching the subtle flush creeping up Vance’s neck, smirked and nudged Erika, whose deep blue eyes sparkled with knowing amusement. Camille hid a smile behind her hand. Even Priya, exhausted, saw it: the glacier cracking under the heat of their husband’s presence.
Thorne sensed it too, the shift in the room’s energy. He frowned, trying to reassert his expertise, but Vance effortlessly refuted a point he made about neonatal care for multiples, citing recent research with razor-sharp accuracy. Her rebuttal wasn’t just professional; it was subtly dismissive, establishing dominance. Thorne’s weariness deepened into sour defeat. He knew. He offered a stiff bow. "My expertise seems… redundant here. Good luck." He left without another word.
"Dr. Vance," Bruce said, his voice resonant, cutting through the silence. "The position is yours. If you accept. We require absolute dedication and discretion." He stood, towering even in the spacious room, projecting an aura of undeniable authority mixed with the underlying hum of divine energy. "Your skills are impressive. We need them."
Vance straightened her spine, forcing her gaze to meet his. The compulsion he’d woven pulsed within her, merging with the undeniable, terrifying pull of the man himself. His sheer physical presence – the breadth of his shoulders, the intensity in those shifting eyes, the latent power that seemed to vibrate the air – was overwhelming. "I… accept," she stated, her voice tight, the cool efficiency momentarily shaken. "The complexity is… significant. I require full access, immediate lab setup, and…" She swallowed, her gaze darting towards Erika’s prominent bump. "...complete patient histories. Now."
"Of course," Priya said smoothly, rising with effort. "Let’s start with Erika. She’s closest." She moved towards the examination area partitioned by a bamboo screen. "Sophia, could you assist?"
Sophia nodded, her expression neutral but observant. Bruce remained seated, the quiet center. Vance followed Priya, her movements precise, but her shoulders were tense. As she passed Bruce, the scent of him – warm skin, salt, and something else, something ancient and potent – washed over her. She faltered, almost imperceptibly, before regaining her stride.
Erika lay back on the crisp white examination table, her pale skin luminous against the linen. Her enormous belly rose like a moon, the skin stretched taut. She was nervous, her deep blue eyes wide, fingers twisting in the sheet. Vance approached, snapping on gloves with practiced efficiency. "First ultrasound," she stated, her tone deliberately clinical. "Full anatomical survey. Relax, Mrs. Erika."
"Just Erika, please," Erika murmured, her Icelandic accent soft. She flinched as the cold gel touched her skin.
Vance picked up the transducer. Her movements were expert, gliding over the curve of Erika’s belly. The grayscale image flickered to life on the monitor. Priya watched intently, Sophia observed Vance. Vance’s brow furrowed slightly as she focused, the glacier facade firmly back in place. "There," she pointed, her voice suddenly softer. "See? Strong heartbeat. Good position. Spine looks perfect."
Erika sighed in relief, a small smile touching her lips. "He’s active today."
"He?" Vance asked, adjusting the transducer.
"Yes. We know they're all boys except Jasmine and Ketut's," Erika explained, watching the screen intently.
Vance nodded, her gaze fixed on the monitor. She performed the scan meticulously, measuring, checking. Her grey eyes darted across the screen, absorbing every detail. She seemed momentarily lost in the clinical puzzle, the challenge of the multiple high-risk pregnancies pushing aside the unsettling aura of the man just beyond the screen. "Amniotic fluid levels are excellent," she muttered, more to herself than anyone. "Cervix is long and closed. Ideal." She leaned in closer for a better angle, her blonde hair escaping its bun slightly. As she pressed the transducer deeper into Erika’s lower abdomen, near her pubic bone, her hand brushed against Erika’s inner thigh.
Erika gasped, not from pain, but from the unexpected jolt of sensation. Her deep blue eyes flew open wider, locking onto Vance’s. A flush spread up Erika’s neck and chest, visible even against her pale skin. Vance froze. The cool professionalism slipped, replaced by a flicker of something else – shock, confusion, and beneath it, a flash of raw, primal awareness triggered by the proximity, the scent of Erika’s skin, the sheer vulnerability of the moment. She saw the flush, the way Erika’s breath hitched. Vance snatched her hand back as if burned. "Apologies," she clipped, her voice tight, her own pale cheeks now flushed. She focused fiercely back on the screen, but her movements were suddenly less steady. The tremor was back in her hands.
Priya observed the exchange, her dark eyes thoughtful. Sophia raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile on her lips. The tension in the small space thickened, charged now with an uncomfortable intimacy Vance hadn’t anticipated.
Outside the screen, Bruce stood. He hadn’t heard the gasp, but he felt the spike in Erika’s nervousness, the sudden, sharp flare of unwelcome desire from Vance that cut through her clinical focus. He moved silently towards the partition.
Erika felt exposed, vulnerable under Vance’s suddenly intense, flustered gaze. The cool gel on her skin felt like a brand. She craved grounding, safety. Him. "Bruce?" she called out, her voice small.
He stepped around the screen instantly. His presence filled the space, radiating protective heat. He took in the scene: Erika flushed and anxious on the table, Vance rigid and pale, her composure visibly fractured, the gel glistening on Erika’s pale, enormous belly. "Everything alright?" His voice was calm, but his swirling hazel eyes held a question as he looked first at Erika, then at Vance.
Vance couldn’t meet his eyes. She stared fixedly at her gloved hands, now clenched on the ultrasound machine. "The scan… is complete," she managed, her voice strained. "Everything appears… normal." She ripped off her gloves with jerky movements. "I need to… set up the lab." She practically fled the examination area, brushing past Bruce without looking at him, her heels clicking a rapid, retreating rhythm on the polished floor.
Bruce moved to Erika’s side. He didn’t need to ask. Her hand reached for his, gripping it tightly. Her breathing was still uneven. "She… startled me," Erika whispered, her cheeks burning. "Her touch… it felt…"
"It's alright," Bruce murmured, stroking her hair. The possessive heat rose in him, the Naga power stirring protectively. His gaze followed Vance’s retreat, his eyes swirling with a darker intensity. This woman, this brilliant, tightly wound doctor, was unraveling. And it had only just begun. He looked down at Erika, his pale Valkyrie trembling on the table, the scent of her arousal now subtly mingling with the antiseptic gel. The vulnerability, the raw exposure, ignited a different fire within him.
"Sophia," Bruce said, his voice low and thick, not taking his eyes off Erika. "Take Priya for some water. She looks pale. Help her rest."
Sophia understood. She met Priya’s eye. Priya, though weary, saw the possessive heat flaring in Bruce’s gaze, the protective fury banked just beneath the surface. She gave a faint nod, allowing Sophia to guide her gently away from the examination area. They disappeared towards the clinic’s small lounge.
Alone with Erika, the quiet hum of the refrigerator the only sound, Bruce let the energy shift completely. The clinical detachment vanished, replaced by primal claiming. His large, warm hand replaced the cold gel on Erika’s belly, sliding down slowly, possessively, over the taut skin of her lower abdomen. His touch was deliberate, scorching. It trailed lower, through the soft, pale blonde curls, finding her core. She was already wet, incredibly wet – a mix of nervousness, the doctor’s touch, and now, his.
"Oh God, Bruce," Erika gasped, her back arching off the table as his fingertips found her swollen, sensitive folds. "Here? Now?"
"My wife," Bruce growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "My body. My choice. No trembling doctor touches you like that." He shoved the ultrasound machine aside carelessly with a clatter. It didn't matter. His fingers plunged deep into her slick heat, thrusting hard. "This cunt belongs to me. Dripping for me, even under some bitch's cold hands?" He twisted his fingers inside her, finding that sweet spot, rubbing rough circles.
Erika cried out, her legs falling open wider instinctively. The paper sheet tore beneath her grip. "YES! YOURS! ONLY YOURS!" she moaned, the clinical setting amplifying the raw taboo. "Fuck, I was so wet… scared… then her… then YOU!"
Bruce withdrew his fingers, glistening with her essence. He unbuckled his trousers, freeing his thick, massive cock, already fully erect and throbbing. He spat copiously into his palm, roughly slicking the huge purple head and shaft. The wet sound was obscene in the sterile room. He positioned himself at her entrance, the swollen tip pressing against her soaked, swollen lips. "Show me," he commanded, his swirling eyes blazing gold. "Show me whose pussy this is."
With a guttural roar fueled by possession and protective fury, Bruce drove forward. His monstrous cock speared into Erika’s tight, pregnant channel. Despite her arousal, her body stretched agonizingly around his invading girth. The sensation was overwhelming – pain and ecstasy merging as he buried himself to the hilt inside her in one brutal thrust. The examination table rattled violently against the wall.
"FUCK! BRUCE! YES! SO FULL! SO DEEP!" Erika screamed, her body convulsing around him. Her pale skin flushed crimson. Her legs hooked desperately around his waist, her heels digging into the muscles of his ass, trying to pull him impossibly deeper. Her pregnant belly heaved with each ragged breath. "CLAIM IT! CLAIM YOUR PREGNANT WHITE CUNT! BREED ME AGAIN! RIGHT HERE!"
Bruce set a brutal, punishing pace. He hammered into her with powerful, deep strokes, each thrust pounding her cervix, the thick shaft stretching her sensitive walls obscenely wide. The wet, slapping sounds of flesh on flesh echoed off the tiled walls and stainless steel – the rhythmic thud of his groin slamming against her ass, the sharp crack of his balls slapping her perineum. He gripped her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh beside her magnificent ass, lifting her slightly to drive even deeper. Lubricant from the spilled gel smeared across his thighs, adding to the slick mess. "THIS TIGHT LITTLE HOLE!" he snarled, pistoning relentlessly. "DRILLING MY SEED DEEP! MY SON FEELS HIS DADDY'S COCK STRETCHING HIS MOTHER'S PUSSY!"
"YES! HE DOES! HE LOVES IT! FUCK ME! BREED YOUR ICELANDIC SLUT!" Erika babbled, lost in the raw sensation. Her body was slick with sweat, her breasts bouncing heavily with each powerful thrust. Her orgasm began to coil, tight and fierce, deep in her belly, amplified by the violation of the clinical setting, by his sheer dominance. "HARDER! DON'T STOP! MAKE ME CUM ON YOUR HUGE GOD-COCK!"
Her climax shattered her. Erika screamed, a raw, primal sound that tore from her throat. Her pussy clamped down with savage intensity on Bruce’s driving shaft, milking him with desperate, rippling contractions. "BRUCE! CUMMING! FILL ME! PUMP YOUR SEED INTO MY BREEDING HOLE! NOW!"
The frantic suction of her orgasm, the sight of his beautiful, pregnant wife convulsing beneath him on the doctor’s table, the lingering scent of Vance’s fear and Erika’s arousal – it was too much. Bruce roared, a sound that seemed to shake the room. He slammed balls-deep into her spasming cunt, grinding his pelvis hard against her clit. His cock swelled to an impossible hardness within her convulsing depths and erupted. Thick, boiling ropes of cum blasted deep into her womb, jet after relentless jet flooding her fertile channel. He pulsed violently, emptying himself completely into her fertile depths, marking her anew as his possession. "DRINK IT! DRINK MY CUM, ERIKA! YOUR PUSSY TAKES EVERY
The wet, rhythmic slap of Bruce's hips pounding against Erika's ass finally ceased, replaced by the ragged symphony of their breathing and the thick, wet sounds of his massive cock still buried deep inside her clenching channel. He ground his pelvis hard against her slick, swollen folds, ensuring every last drop of his scalding cum flooded her womb, marking her insides anew. Erika whimpered, her body trembling violently as aftershocks rocked her, her inner muscles still instinctively milking his softening shaft.
"Fuck... yes... yours... all yours," she gasped, her voice raw, her fingers scrabbling weakly at his sweat-slicked forearms still pinning her hips to the now-sticky examination table. The sharp scent of sex, antiseptic, and spilled ultrasound gel hung thick and cloying in the enclosed space. Bruce slowly withdrew, his thick, glistening cock sliding out with an obscenely wet schlick, trailed by rivulets of their combined fluids dripping onto the paper sheet below. He looked down at the ruin he’d made of her – her pale skin flushed crimson, blonde curls plastered to her temples, her magnificent ass reddened from the force of his thrusts, her swollen pussy gaping and leaking his seed.
Bruce ran a possessive hand over her trembling belly, the movement gentle now, contrasting violently with his recent brutality. "My beautiful, fertile Valkyrie," he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his swirling eyes shifting from blazing gold to a calmer, satisfied green. "Took every fucking inch, didn't you? Good girl." He leaned down, nipping her earlobe. "Now clean it up."
Erika understood. Shakily, still breathless, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, wincing slightly. She lowered her head, her long blonde hair brushing his thighs, and took the thick, glistening head of his cock into her mouth. Her tongue swirled, licking up the thick ropes of cum and her own slick coating his shaft with desperate, submissive hunger. "Mmm... tastes like you... tastes like ownership," she mumbled around his flesh, sucking him clean with focused intensity, her blue eyes locked on his with unwavering devotion.
Bruce watched her, a dark satisfaction settling over him as she swallowed diligently. He stroked her hair, his gaze drifting towards the door Vance had fled through, a predatory awareness sharpening his features. Outside, the sounds of Priya and Sophia speaking softly in the lounge reached him, grounding him back in the larger context. "Sophia," he called out, his voice carrying easily. "Bring Erika a robe. And water."
---
Elara Vance slammed the lab door shut, leaning her back against the cool metal, her chest heaving. Her legs felt like water, threatening to buckle completely. What the actual fucking fuck is happening? Her mind screamed, a chaotic whirlwind. Her panties were soaked, a cold, uncomfortable dampness she hadn't experienced in... years? Decades? She pressed the heels of her hands hard against her eyes, trying to erase the impossible images burned onto her retinas: Bruce’s raw power radiating off him like heat shimmer, the terrifying intensity in those shifting, impossible eyes as he’d looked at her – through her. And then touching Erika... the softness of her inner thigh, the startling vulnerability beneath her professional touch... the jolt that had felt like grabbing a live wire. It wasn't just arousal; it was a physical shockwave.
Her entire life, Elara had navigated relationships with detached indifference. Asexual? Mostly. Partners had drifted away, frustrated by her lack of passionate response. The last one, five years ago, had finally snapped, "Do you even feel anything, Elara?" She’d felt a pang of guilt then, but not the loss. Not the burning, desperate need currently threatening to short-circuit her nervous system. That man... Bruce. Just standing near him felt like standing too close to a star. And his wives... Jesus Christ. Lena, whose impossible, godlike curves defied anatomy and gravity, radiating fierce intelligence and warmth. Camille, a vision of mature, earthy beauty with the same devastating hips and ass. Erika, the pale, ethereal goddess trembling beneath her touch. Exotic, stunning, every single one, walking masterpieces who were also clearly brilliant in their own demanding fields. Why would he look twice at her? She was here for the most complex obstetric challenge of her career, for the science, for the health of those women and their unprecedented litter of babies. Not because the walking god and his harem of perfection wanted her fucking cunt.
She forced herself away from the door, stumbling slightly on unsteady legs towards the gleaming stainless-steel counter. She gripped the edge, knuckles white, trying to anchor herself. The cool metal did little to douse the fire inside. She could still hear them faintly through the wall – Bruce’s commanding voice, Erika’s breathless response, then... other, wetter sounds she refused to consciously acknowledge but which sent another treacherous pulse of heat between her own thighs. God, Elara, get a fucking grip! She needed to change her soaked underwear. She needed to focus on setting up the portable hematology analyzer. She needed to forget the way his gaze had stripped her bare.
---
Priya sipped the water Sophia handed her, leaning back on the comfortable lounge sofa, exhaustion warring with clinical observation. She’d heard the distinct, rhythmic thumping against the clinic wall cease, replaced by lower murmurs and then Bruce’s call for a robe. Sophia moved swiftly, grabbing a soft robe from a nearby cabinet. "Our husband is... thorough after a perceived challenge," Priya murmured dryly, her dark eyes flicking towards the corridor leading to both the examination room and the lab.
Sophia’s lips quirked in a knowing smirk. "Territorial. Especially when his power is questioned, or his possessions are...unsettled." She glanced meaningfully towards the sealed lab door. "The good doctor ran out of there like hellhounds were on her heels."
Ketut, who had been quietly meditating in a corner with Naga Bruce babbling softly beside her, opened her serene eyes. "She felt the storm," she stated simply, her voice like smooth stones. "The Naga’s fire. And Erika’s ice. They create lightning." She gently touched her own rounded belly. "It is... overwhelming for those untethered."
Lena stretched, her legendary curves shifting beneath her light dress, a satisfied smile playing on her lips despite the weight of her own pregnancy. "Looked like she got hit by a truck. A very sexy, very confusing truck." She chuckled. "Poor woman. Bruce’s vibe plus pregnancy hormones? That’s a potent cocktail."
Camille, ever practical, walked back into the lounge from checking on Gabriel. "She’s locked in the lab. Been quiet. Should someone...?" She trailed off, frowning slightly. "She looked ready to pass out. We need her functional, not comatose."
Priya set her glass down, pushing herself up with effort, her hand resting on her own large bump. The clinical part of her brain, the obstetrician responsible for five incredibly valuable patients, overrode the voyeuristic amusement. The woman was clearly in distress, and that distress could impact her performance. "I'll go," Priya stated, her tone becoming briskly professional despite her fatigue. "Make sure she hasn't hyperventilated or fainted in a corner. We can't have our brilliant new doctor cracking before she's even unpacked her stethoscope." She smoothed her tunic, steeling herself, and walked towards the lab door, a doctor assessing a potential patient, the sounds of Bruce helping Erika off the table a faint backdrop.