/lit/ - Literature

Pain.
Whispering voices.
Pain.
Pain. Pain. Pain.
Need pee--new pain--what are they sticking in me? . . .
Sleep.
Pain.
Whispering voices.
“As you know, Nurse Eastman, the government spooks controlling this hospital
will not permit me to give this patient the care I think he needs.”
“Yes, doctor.” The voice was breathy, sweet, so sweet and sexy.
“We will therefore just monitor his sign’s. Serious trauma like this patient
suffered requires extra care, but the rich patsies controlling the hospital will make certain
I cannot try any of my new treatments on him.”
“Yes, doctor.” That voice was soooo sexy!
Bruce didn’t care about treatments. He cared about pain, and he cared about that
voice, because when he heard the voice, the pain went away, just for a few seconds, like.
“Report to me if there is any change,” the man’s voice said.
“Yes, Dr. Nance,” said the sexy voice.
A door closed, and Bruce heard breathing, and smelled the enticing smell of
shampoo, and perfume. It was Chanel Number 5.
He opened his eyes.
All he saw was the roundest, firmest pair of tittles he’d ever seen in his life, all
enclosed in a crisp white nurse’s uniform.
I’m in heaven, he said. No, he tried to say, but his voice wouldn’t work, his
mouth was dry, and there was some terrible tube thing in his nose—and hey, what’s that
thing in his dick? It hurts!
The tits bounced like Aunt Alice’s molded jello back at home, and then moved
away. Oh. She was just straightening the covers on the bed.
Bed.
Bruce realized he laid in a bed, his left arm being strapped down, with something
sticking an up-a tube--on the top of his hand.
Bruce looked up. The tits belonged to a beautiful face carved out of ice and whipped
cream, with a pair of glowing emerald eyes. Around that perfect face was brown hair
like one of those super models, all puffed up.
“Oh, you’re awake, Mr. Lucent,” said the sexy nurse.
Bruce worked his lips, but couldn’t speak.
“Well, Mr. Lucent,” the sexy voice went on. “You are probably wondering what
you are doing here, honey chile.” He realized the voice had the accent of a sexy
Southern peach. “You were in an auto accident, Mr. Lucent, but don’t worry. You’ll be
jess fine. This here is the finest hospital in Atlanta, and you are in the care of the finest
doctor, Dr. Arthur Eastman.”