Dr. Claw
by OmegaPet-58
Copyright© 2026 by OmegaPet-58
Fiction Story: Dr. Claus, a surgeon, endures catastrophic damage to his right arm. He has to give up his specialty, but as a general (family) doctor he has a different approach to medicine. Perhaps, the healing power of sex? A brief 1,900 word amuse-bouche (French for fun for the mouth).
Caution: This Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Workplace Oral Sex Doctor/Nurse .
“Hey, Doc! How are you doing?”
“I’m doing well. It’s, uh, Jake, you’re Jake Carlino?”
“Thanks for remembering me, Dr. Claw, oops, sorry, Dr. Claus.”
“Let’s see, the last time you were here it was for gout, right?”
“Yeah, you fixed me up with those pills, and I’m fine now.”
“You’re taking them every morning?”
We chatted for a while, and then I looked Jake in the eye.
“What brings you to our clinic today?”
“Uh, well, this is hard to admit, but I think I need some ‘happy pills.’ I’ve been down in the dumps, lately. It’s been a year since Betsy died, and...”
“You’re moping around the house looking at her pictures and haven’t found somebody new. So you want some anti-depressants?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“You know, one of the things I do here is to figure out what really matters. I can give you a prescription, but there are lots of bad side effects, and it won’t fix what you really need.”
“Oh, yeah? What do I really need, Doc?”
“You need to get laid, Jake. Your wife wouldn’t want you moping around like this.”
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack. Which is what you’re headed for. You should go to the senior center. You’ll find there’s way more women than men, because they outlive us by eight years or so. And a lot of them are horny as fuck.”
“You’re different than my other doctors.”
“I know. Ever since my arm got fucked up and I couldn’t be a surgeon any more, I tend to cut to the chase. I promise you, if you get laid in the next month you won’t want any of those addictive pills. They’re also all bad for your libido—your sex drive.”
“You’re sure this is going to work?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’ll tell you an old joke: ‘Take two and call me in the morning. A blonde and a brunette.’ Go have fun, Jake, and come back if my prescription isn’t working for you.”
He left, grinning and shaking his head.
Next up was Vera Santos, originally from The Philippines. I’d seen her at the clinic many times, mostly dealing with a long list of minor aches and pains. Her prime motivation was obvious. In the exam room, she’d throw off her top and preen, enjoying every second of my listening to her heart and lungs with my stethoscope. I’d have Nurse Jackson in there with me, but that didn’t inhibit Vera in the least.
But then, inspiration struck.
“Vera, how do you feel about white men? I know this guy you might like. His name is Jake, and he was widowed last year, and now he’s looking for sex.” She looked up at me, smiling broadly.
After she left, Lisa Jackson scowled at me.
“You’re the naughtiest doctor I’ve ever worked with. If my husband ever finds out about you, he’ll want me to quit.”
“Your husband doesn’t like sex? My condolences, Ms. Jackson.”
“What? No! He ... Damn. You’re awful. You wouldn’t be like this if your hand worked.”
“That’s because it’s my right hand, and since my accident it’s really hard to jerk off.”
“I swear to God, one day I will quit. If you hadn’t given me a raise last month...”
She left the exam room, muttering.
Our patients didn’t have adequate access to medical care. They weren’t being monitored closely, and just hooking them on narcotic pills would not address the real needs of seniors like Jake and Vera.
Along with my work at the clinic, I also did a lot of legal consulting for both sides. Immodestly, I developed a reputation as a “straight shooter.” If a corporation hired me, I’d examine all the records to make sure I could honestly testify that an adverse reaction was not avoidable. If a plaintiff hired me, saying they’d been injured by malpractice, I’d make the same analysis.
Down at the courthouse, the judges were familiar with me and protected me from being bullied by unethical lawyers. There were always lawyers trying to slip in those “When did you stop beating your wife” type of questions.
For new clients, I prepared a little biography to explain why I could no longer practice surgery.
Dr. Erik Claus was hiking in the National Forest when disaster struck. As a surgeon, he recognized the symptoms right away. He was experiencing a “compartment hemorrhage,” an extremely serious condition where arterial blood was leaking into his forearm, compressing the muscle tissue and nerves.
However, he was hours away from the trailhead, and he needed to hike back out to his car where he could reach 911. The pain was increasingly awful, and he knew the effort of hiking made his situation worse.
“I could die out here. My blood pressure will drop drastically, while my right arm will feel like concrete. In four hours there will be permanent damage, and in eight hours I’ll be likely to need amputation. I need to get back to my car as soon as possible, while my arm is torturing me.”
Erik made it back to his car, where he finally had enough signal to call for an ambulance. Then he slid down and passed out, with his back against his car. He was out for about a half-hour, and roused enough to tell them “arm hemorrhage” and then he passed out again.
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