The Flu Shot Ch. 01

Henry tossed his backpack to the side and took a seat in his usual room at the clinic and placed the biohazard container onto the table with a loud thump. He unlocked the latches on both sides and turned the lock in the center of the case before opening it to reveal its hidden contents. Two rows of small syringes were laid out in a pristine and uniform manner. He leaned in and quickly checked that each one had its plastic safety seal covering the needle--otherwise he'd have to throw it away.

The room was on the fourth floor of the clinic, on a wing of the building that Henry did not usually work. Rectangular in shape, with a narrow window opposite the door and soft beige paint on every wall, the room contained few items other than the chair Henry sat in: a table in the center of the room that was half taken up by the case of syringes, and a second chair to the side of the table--this was where the patient sits. This occasion was either the eighth or ninth time Henry had been in this room, he could not remember. Sitting for hours in there delivering flu shots to patients made time come to a halt, patients coming and going one by one as if the stream of them never ceased. Most of his patients paid him no mind. A casual 'How you doing?' or 'Thank you' were the most often phrases he'd hear. Otherwise, Henry worked an assembly line of people who remained silent and willing.

The clinic was located in a wealthier area of town. There were plenty of places one could go stand in line, such as a cheap pharmacy, and get a flu shot just as easily, but the residents here were those who'd like to have appointments, not wait in line, and not care about whether or not their insurance would be taken; they could afford it regardless. A number of snobby folk would come through the clinic, and without saying a word to him Henry could decipher their character. Lawyers, executives, and trophy wives made up a large percentage of the clientele. He never complained when the trophy wives came in. Whether or not they had botox in their lips, implants in their breasts, or had a natural beauty untouched by surgery, he would lunge at the opportunity to ogle something that broke up the monotony of the small room.

What made it even more enjoyable was if the patient was scared of shots. More than a few times he'd had a bimbo wife or sassy female executive break character when push came to shove and the needle came out of its plastic sheath. He'd need to hold their hand, or count down from three as they'd quiver in fear. If they closed their eyes, he'd use his own eyes to scan up and down their figures. One time he had even taken out his phone and taken a photo of one blonde housewife's enormous natural tits. He used that photo on occasion if he couldn't sleep. Another time, a beautiful African-American woman had even asked Henry to come sit next to her, so he brought his chair over and put his hand on her thigh to calm her down. Her short skirt meant he got more than a handful of her plump legs.

The most extreme case was when a woman passed out in the chair after being pricked. She was drop-dead gorgeous, a latina with a prominent hourglass figure. Shaking her hands, tapping her on the shoulder, even squeezing her legs did not wake her up. Obviously, Henry had to take advantage of the situation and get a few pictures of her and had a quick grope of her breasts, then sat and waited for her to wake up. He had to be careful to keep his lower half under the table, as his erection was like a steel rod.

That day was a revelation for Henry. Never in his life, even during sex with any of his college hookups, or any girlfriend he ever had, had he been that turned on. For the rest of that clinic, his mind was foggy. When he got home, he whipped out the pictures of her and came harder than he ever had in his life. He needed that to happen again; unfortunately, it relied on his patient passing out, something he could not guarantee to happen when he wanted it to. This time, he would take matters into his own hands.

Opening his backpack, Henry pulled a smaller case out of it and placed it next to the large container of syringes. In a similar fashion he undid the latches on the small case and turned its lock to reveal another set of syringes inside., with a slightly different shape and color than those in the container. At that moment, his first patient opened the door.

The woman's lips were the first thing Henry noticed as she entered the room. At first he thought they were botoxed, but after further inspection they appeared to be naturally plump. They were round and pronounced, as if you could poke them with your finger and they would bounce back at you. They were not so big that you would think they were fake, but at the limit of natural size. Any bigger and you would assume a procedure had taken place. Henry imagined she would give great blowjobs. The second thing he noticed were her breasts: they were obscenely large, practically bursting through her buttoned shirt. The rest of her body was fairly average, with a normal pair of jeans and an average wife's hairdo, but her tits were like nothing he'd ever seen. They jiggled exaggeratedly as she walked towards him. How fortunate, Henry thought, that an opportunity would present itself on the first patient.

"Hello ma'am. Please, fill out this form," he said as he slid a piece of paper and pen across the table. "Would you like the right or left arm?" he asked as she took a seat in the other chair.

"Left arm, please," the woman said, her voice higher than he expected. I guess she isn't that large of a person, Henry thought, it's just her tits that make her look big. She definitely was top-heavy.

The woman silently filled out the form before sliding it back to Henry. He couldn't help but notice how her lips sat on her face; they were perpetually pushed outwards, as if waiting for a kiss, silently begging for something to meet them. Henry would oblige. He reached into the smaller case and pulled out one of the syringes, which was a deep blue in color. "Please pull up your sleeve."

The woman did as she was told, and asked "What's the difference between the shots?" Henry had not prepared for the question. It would be clear to a bystander that the blue liquid in his hand was different from the clear shots in the larger case. He hadn't had time to hide the rest of the equipment. "Oh, um, this is just the most recent batch. Those are just here as reserve; you get the best version we have," he said, lying through his teeth. He couldn't think of anything better on the spot.

"Oh, awesome!" the woman said. From her response, it was clear to Henry that she was the same as every other bimbo who came through this clinic; likely the wife of some CEO or CFO who liked big tits and small brains. Although tits weren't his favorite, he would enjoy her just as much as her husband did. He wiped her arm with an antiseptic wipe before sticking her with the needle. "Oh!" she said involuntarily, as he hit the plunger and sent the blue fluid into her bloodstream. He pulled the needle free and sat back, quickly checking his watch to see the time. Within only a few seconds, he could see her eyes getting heavy..

Indeed, what was entering her bloodstream was not a flu shot. Henry had concocted his own creation which was being delivered intravenously to the gorgeous woman. Having graduated summa cum laude with a Chemistry degree from one of the top universities in the nation, he had ample experience synthesizing and testing the most powerful and vile of humanity's chemical arsenal. This specific blend he had made at home was a weak anesthetic: the subject would lose consciousness within a few seconds, but maintain normal breathing and bodily function. Effectively, that meant the woman would 'pass out' artificially, long enough that Henry could do as he pleased.

He could see the effects of the drug reach her brain as her eyes slowly fluttered shut, followed by her head slowly slumping forward. It was designed to act within seconds, and it was working exactly as desired. He expected it to, as he had tried it on a Tinder date of his a few days prior. He had done it with her consent; being put unconscious was one of her kinks. While Henry did not think it was one of his, after feeling up the passed-out latina he had no choice but to try it. He had the time of his life with her, as having sex with her while she was out was amazing, but something was still missing. It was not until the day after he realized what it was: the fact that she wanted it. He would've done the same things to her if she was awake, since she was hot and willing. He needed someone who wasn't willing, such as the people who entered his clinic; not to mention, the rich, spoiled, and dumb clientele were ones he did not feel bad about victimizing.

Henry stood up from his chair and got a better view of the brunette. 'Cynthia' read the first name of her signature. He had never heard that name before; this would be his first time with a Cynthia. He rubbed one hand across her face as he pulled her head back over the top of the chair, feeling her features and checking to see her level of consciousness: she did not move a muscle. Two of his fingers slid into her open mouth, her tongue lax but her breathing steady. He pushed them further in until he could not further, and was elated at the absence of a gag reflex.

Removing his fingers from her throat, he swiftly moved on to her breasts, clearly her primary assets. With smaller thighs and only a hit of her cheeks spreading underneath her in the chair, her melon-sized breasts would be the item that made men drool. Henry carefully unbuttoned her shirt and unhooked her bra, and was surprised to see how perky her breasts remained. Despite their size, they had minimal sag and her nipples stood at attention. Her skin was lightly freckled and otherwise unblemished. Their perfect roundness led to smooth skin with no folds or creases, just ample globes that hung casually from her chest. He cupped them in his hands, kneading the flesh and taking in the sight of the unconscious woman.

Henry had an immense desire to tit-fuck her. He quickly lowered his pants and pushed his now-throbbing member in between her breasts. Although no lubrication was present, the softness of both of their flesh allowed him to slowly thrust, taking his time. His cock was above average, reaching almost seven inches on his best days. Her tits made him look small in comparison, as only an inch or two of him would poke between the top of her jugs. Like a gopher popping in and out of his hide, his phallus would assert itself and return to the sheath of her melons. He considered himself to have great endurance, yet the softness of her was pushing him to orgasm much faster than he liked.

Stepping back, he gave himself a moment of recovery. Somehow he had begun to lightly sweat, and had to catch his breath. He had lost himself in the feeling of her soft tits, and realized he had no idea how long he had been going about it. He knew subsequent patients would be waiting, so he would need to hurry up here. While his chemical concoction would not wake up his victims anytime soon, he had synthesized an antidote that could reverse the effects and wake them up at his will. He considered himself a sort of amateur anesthesiologist, having crafted himself the tools such a doctor would use on a daily basis. The only difference was he used them to fuck clueless sluts, rather than operate on them.

One of the first features of the woman Henry had noticed when she entered was her lips. He would now get himself a piece of those. He leaned forward and brought his lips to hers and admired their shape. They were plump but not too overbearing; where a water bed surrounds your body and parts itself to fit your shape in an uncomfortable fashion, her lips resembled memory foam, which has its own level of firmness while conforming to the shape of you. Her lips grabbed at him despite her unconsciousness, and he grabbed back as though he were kissing the love of his life. She was certainly not that, but for the time being, she was a toy he could use in its place. Through his kisses he could feel her breathing increase, as though her subconscious understood the sensations it was receiving, instinctively making her enjoy it, despite not being awake. Henry became even more turned on, having now recognized the carnal desire that he could give her without even trying.

He retreated from her mouth and brought his cock to her lips. With one hand on the top of her head to keep her in place, he rubbed his tip along her plush lips and along her cheeks, a small bit of precum leaking onto her. With a few seconds of this teasing, his lust grew exponentially before he thrusted almost his entire member into her unwilling mouth. Not a sound escaped from her, only a moan from Henry as her tongue rubbed the underside of his shaft, and the moist walls of her mouth engulfed him. He pushed the remainder of his cock down her gullet, entirely buried within the poor girl's throat. He kept her there for at least fifteen seconds, savoring the unconscious contractions of her throat that begged to milk him for all he was worth.

Although he enjoyed this style of deepthroat, he needed more. He pulled himself from her depths and began a slow thrust, similar to the tit-fuck he had given her. Each push sent waves of pleasure throughout his body, extending all the way into his fingertips and out through his toes. This new speed now elicited sounds from her, soft moans and little gags that rang out in the small room. Her mouth gripped him like a vagina would, almost begging him to come back in when he pulled back. Fucking her face in this manner elicited small unconscious glucks and gulps from the woman, whose throat could not help its involuntary reactions. Spit leaked out the corners of her mouth as Henry continued his assault on her face.

Henry did not want to cum at that moment; he had plenty more patients to see. He got his phone out and buried himself in her mouth once again. He took pictures of her from above, her lips wrapped around the base of his cock and her eyes closed from her comatose state. With his other hand he took a photo of her while opening her eyelids with his hands, her unconscious state still clear due to the glazed-over nature of her eyes. He pulled out of her and took a few more with his long member resting on her face, and some with it between her tits. Finally, he finished taking advantage of the woman and wiped her clean with a paper towel before returning her bra and buttoning her shirt back up.

Henry returned to his chair and removed one of his antidotes from the case and prepared it for insertion. As he was not exactly certain the length of time his concoction worked, he wanted to play it safe and had synthesized the antidote to pull the patient back to the conscious world. He removed the plastic cover over the needle's tip and poked it into her arm, putting freedom from her captor straight into her veins. He then prepped a normal flu shot and gave it to her as well. Although he was taking advantage of her, he wouldn't make her leave without getting a real flu shot; that would be cruel.

Quickly he got up from his chair and got on his knees in front of hers. He could see the antidote was starting to take effect, so he took one of her hands in his.

"Ma'am, excuse me, can you hear me? Are you alright?" he said, playing the part. "Ma'am, hello?"

As Cynthia began to stir, she softly spouted words of confusion. "What?" "Huh?" "Where am I?" Thankfully the girl appeared to have no memory of going unconscious, not that it would have mattered. Henry had already prepared his cover.

"Hi, ma'am, can you hear me? Can you see me?"

"Huh? Yes, hi... what happened?"

"Ma'am, you passed out when I gave you the shot. Are you alright? Do you feel okay?"

"Wait, I did what? I...when?" She said as she rubbed her lower jaw. Oops, Henry thought.

"Yes, ma'am, you passed out. Don't worry, it happens to a lot of people," he said, comforting her, "We picked these chairs precisely so you don't fall forward out of them, and I've been right here checking on you."

"How long was I out for?" She said, with a concerned look, "I usually don't faint like this." She clearly was questioning how her body had done this to her.

"Only about a minute, ma'am, passing out from shots is usually not long or serious, you were breathing fine and your heart rate was stable. Totally normal."

"Well, thank you very much," she said, rubbing her eyes and seeming to return to full consciousness. She sighed heavily, relieved that nothing medically wrong had happened. "But I'm good now? I got the shot?"

"Yes ma'am, you're all set, you're free to leave whenever you'd like. The front desk can get you water if you need some."

"Thank you, apologies for that," the woman said. Apologizing, Henry thought, apologizing for letting me fuck her mouth and tits as much as I wanted. He returned to his chair, watching the woman as she got up and stretched a little, clearly sore from being stuck in that seat long enough for Henry to have his way with her throat. His execution was flawless, except for one point that she wiped the corner of her mouth which had a small amount of leftover face-fucking saliva he had missed. She seemed to think nothing of it. He took the last few chances he could to ogle her, admiring her tits and confirming that her ass was nothing to write home about, before she left the room.

The next few patients he received were guys, so they received the standard shot and headed on their way. Each time the door would open he would wait excitedly to see what his next catch would be. He was not picky; any woman who walked in that door could get it, and he would make the most of whatever fine assets they had until he eventually came. All of them would get their pictures taken, so he could keep them for his personal sessions later.

After giving what seemed like his twentieth flu shot to a dude, the next person who came in almost knocked him out of his chair.

The first thing he noticed was the color of her hair: it was not the red you imagine when someone says ginger, but it had a deep burgundy and brown assortment that added extra dimensions to the word 'redhead'. In the fluorescent lighting of the clinic room parts of her hair shined cherry and orange, and others a deep reddish-brown that accentuated the volume of her locks.

Next was her skin, which appeared creamy and soft but not pale. Her tone was tanned, not as much as the previous woman, but enough that you knew she could catch a tan while outside if she wanted to. She was lightly freckled in many places, on her arms and shoulders and in the parts of the face that freckles appear most favorable, so much so that freckles become almost sexual; her skin was flawless and it drove Henry wild.

She wore a navy blue crop top that fit her form, the kind that you would see at the gym or a yoga class. It covered her chest and strapped over her shoulders, but left most of her neck and arms exposed, with a small midriff that showed off her smooth abs and perfect belly button. It was clear that her breasts were not her dominant feature; there was a curvature to her upper half, but nowhere near Cynthia's obscene bosom. However, even from the front, Henry could tell what her primary asset would be.

Her hips started close together and fanned out as you traveled down her thighs, her legs coming back together at her knees down to her feet. If there was anyone whose lower half fit the description of hourglass, it was her; the size of her ass could be seen even when she was facing you, and her thighs were plump and juicy and made Henry want to grab and bite them. The tightness of her hips accentuated the massive cheeks that jutted out from behind her, large enough that any woman would be jealous of her, but not so big as to arouse the suspicion of plastic surgery. These cheeks were clearly natural, but with minimal cellulite showing through her form-fitting navy blue leggings that match the navy top. As she turned her back to him to sit down in the chair, he had a full view of her thick rear; he couldn't wait to bury his face in it.