The Campus Doctor's Forbidden Treatment

I used to be the star of the Dance Department—everyone's envy, until hypersexuality disorder turned my life upside down.

Suddenly, I couldn't even finish my coursework on time.

Desperate, my boyfriend dragged me to the campus clinic for an initial checkup.

But the doctor's quiet professionalism caught me off guard...

The clinic didn't open until afternoon. Jason, worried I'd bail, took me to his dorm instead.

Stretched across his bed, I felt the familiar heat creeping in—my legs restless, my breath shallow.

"Jason... I need you. Please."

He frowned and pushed my hand away.

The rejection stung. Two years ago, when this first started, he couldn't keep his hands off me. Now? He was just... tired.

With a sigh, he rummaged through his drawer and tossed something at me. "Handle it yourself."

Then he walked out.

I hesitated, biting my lip. Finally, I gave in—drawing the curtains but leaving just enough space for him to slip back in. My fingers fumbled with my waistband when—

The mattress dipped. Hands gripped my hips.

Relief flooded me. Jason changed his mind. Smirking, I leaned into his touch—

Until I opened my eyes.

A stranger.

I thrashed, but the narrow bed rocked violently as he pinned me harder.

"Jason! HELP!"

Silence. The door hadn't budged. No footsteps. How could he not hear this?

Unless... he wanted it. What kind of boyfriend volunteers his girl like this?

My fingers brushed the toy Jason had left me. I drove it into the guy's ribs.

He cursed, grip loosening just enough for me to kick free.

"The hell, Jason! You begged me to help your girl! If I'm bleeding, you're dead!"

The guy stormed out. Seconds later, Jason rushed in.

"You're disgusting," I spat. "Who does this? Sets up their girlfriend to get felt up by their roommate?"

"I need that research position. You have your competition. If we keep wasting time like this, we're screwed."

Guilt twisted in my chest. Our school didn't tolerate slackers—fall behind, and you'd end up with nothing. But that didn't excuse this.

"Then let's break up. I won't drag you down."

I turned to leave, but Jason caught my sleeve.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let him touch you. I don't want to end things."

The apology softened me. I caved—but this couldn't keep happening. We agreed: clinic. Now.

The doctor was young, polished. Harmless-looking. I relaxed instantly.

"Doctor, I—I think I have hypersexuality disorder. It's ruining my life. Is there... any treatment?"

If he could fix this, it'd be a miracle. I explained everything, waiting for instructions.

He slid on gloves and a mask, then wheeled over a tray.

"The young man should step outside."

"Of course, Dr. Roscente. Take care of her."

Jason left without a second thought. My pulse spiked. Alone with a man, about to be examined for this?

He didn't even hesitate. That... hurt.