A Hospital Stay [Part 6]

Author's Note: I feel the need to preemptively apologize to any medical professionals reading this. I know that the prior chapters have not been especially accurate, but I suspect this one takes my lack of medical expertise to a whole new level. While I have not done extensive homework, I did enough to know that I am in approximately the same baseball stadium as medical facts, but not likely to score a base hit. I can imagine that it might be off-putting to people who live and breathe biology or medicine. If you know your stuff and it ruins the immersion for you, sorry!

---

"So...what does this mean, Doctor?"

I was staring at the glossy MRI scan printouts that Dr. Carlson was holding up in front of me. Mia had -- laboriously, with the help of Denise and another nurse -- transferred me to a wheelchair, first for the MRI, and then to come to this consultation room. She was standing watching.

"It means that this knife wound," Dr. Carlson said bluntly, gesturing at one of my abdominal wounds, "nicked an important nerve bundle."

She pointed at some structure on the scan images. "Another few centimeters and you'd have a major spinal cord injury. Instead, it just...frayed, let's say, this bundle of nerves that travels directly to your groin. It's what innervates all the equipment down there. If the nerves had gotten more damaged you might have complete loss of sensation, inability to achieve erection, that sort of thing."

Mia was behind the doctor, her red hair up in its usual ponytail, a few strands framing her pretty face. She just nodded silently, her eyes pensive.

I stared at the scans. They might as well have been written in a foreign language for all that I could understand them. "So this, uh...explains the sensitivity I've been having?"

"Well, I have to admit, I'm a little puzzled that you aren't showing any other related symptoms, like other loss of sensation, extreme sensitivity to touch, that sort of thing. And I have yet to see any of the sensitivity that Mia and Denise have described..." Dr. Carlson's tone communicated that she was extremely dubious about the diagnosis of a nurse and a medical student.

Eventually she sighed, and continued after a moment. "But their description indicates that your pelvic sensitivity seems...extreme. And that is the sort of thing this kind of nicking of a nerve might cause. I don't know of any cases specifically like yours, but there are plenty of cases of odd, specific downstream effects from nerve damage. That sort of thing is unpredictable."

The lack of decisive conclusions was giving me pause. "Okay, so what can I do about it?"

"There are a few options we could consider." Dr. Carlson began ticking them off on her fingers. "First, we could do nothing. Let your body do its thing, heal. Nerves heal more slowly than muscle tissue. In six to nine months, perhaps a year, we could reassess; you might regain normal sensation all on your own."

A year of this? I reviewed the last few days. Natalie's smirk as she expertly controlled me with her hands. Kate's confusion, as I lost control inside her. Mia's mouth, her amusement after. Denise's...thorough examination.

The idea of my current condition going on for months had very little appeal. But if that's how long it would take, so be it. Just as long as I got better. "So...I should recover on my own after a year or so?"

Dr. Carlson shook her head. "No. You may recover on your own. Or, the nerve tissue might heal in a way that still leaves you with this odd...sensitivity. No guarantee either way."

No guarantee either way. I digested that, uncomfortably.

"Or," Dr. Carlson said, her voice still dubious, "We could do laparoscopic surgery. Minimally invasive. Health- and infection-wise, low-risk. And I'd say it has a high chance of success."

"Well, then--"

But she held up her hand, forestalling me.

"...But there are risks. It'd be a delicate procedure. It might fray the nerve bundle further, make your body's healing process less effective. It might make your condition worse."

Behind the doctor, Mia winced, looking at me sympathetically.

"What do you think my odds are, doctor?"

She shrugged. "I'm not a gambler, James. But I'd say the odds of a really negative outcome -- making this condition permanent, say -- are only five or ten percent. Small, but...obviously significant. So you'll need to decide whether the surgery is worth that risk." She looked at me, expectantly.

A five or ten percent chance that the last few days would be how I had to live the rest of my life.

I glanced up at Mia. Those big blue eyes were crinkled in concern. Her expressive mouth was twisted in pity.

I knew she felt bad for me. But it was the kind of look she might have on her face if I was even more sensitive. Cumming even faster.

Maybe the surgery was a bad idea. Those were low odds, but significant enough that I wasn't sure I wanted to roll the dice.

I thought of Natalie, too, though. Of how different our interactions had been over the last few days than when we'd been in college.

Of the spark of...something, I still felt for her. Of the mix of emotions she clearly felt for me.

My current condition was getting in the way.

"I'll do the surgery." The words were out of my mouth almost before I could stop them. But it felt like the right choice. I didn't want to live like this for months, hoping it got better on its own.

Mia's eyes widened, but Dr. Carlson just nodded, curtly, like I'd been telling her there was a slight chance of light rain later this evening. "Great. There's a surgery opening tomorrow; we'll book you for that. We'll need to do some additional imaging. We can do it via ultrasound -- the MRI gives the detail, we just need some clear shots of the muscle structures for the surgeon. Mia, let's go."

---

Twenty minutes later I was on a hospital bed in a dark, ultrasound imaging room. Dr. Carlson was standing at a complicated-looking keyboard, with a large monitor in front of her; Mia had an odd paddle-shaped ultrasound device and some lubricant.

"Now, if you can disrobe from the waist down please, James." Dr. Carlson was matter-of-fact.

Well, at least Mia had seen it all before, I thought ruefully.

Mia smiled at me tentatively, and tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear before she helped me pull the hospital gown out of the way. She wiped me down with an alcohol swab before applying some lubricant to the paddles.

My cock was still mostly flaccid, although, as I looked at Mia, staring down at my groin, I couldn't help thinking of the last time she'd done this -- and I was starting to get engorged.

"Mia, this will be good practice for you. We'll start with some relaxed shots of the underlying muscle structures." Dr. Carlson rattled off a series of instructions to Mia, and -- over the next minute or two -- she ran the paddle over my abdomen and groin, pausing as Dr. Carlson zoomed in and out, capturing specific images that the surgeon would presumably find useful.

In the dark of the room, Mia's closeness -- warm hands drifting over my abdomen, the concentration on her face as she moved the paddle over my body -- felt oddly intimate. Her long ponytail brushed across my chest at one point as she reached across me with the paddle. I could smell her shampoo or maybe her perfume: light, floral, feminine.

"Sagittal plane, left side of the pelvis, Mia. As close as you can get it to that wound at the crease of his hip without actually touching it," Dr. Carlson instructed.

"Yes, doctor." Mia moved the paddle over, and then -- in a smooth motion -- moved my cock, which was thick but still soft -- to one side, so she could get the paddle in. "Sorry," she murmured in my ear.

"It, uh, it's fine," I replied absently, quietly. But her breath on me, and her hand gently adjusting me, had a predictable effect. I could feel my cock stiffening, thickening rapidly.

I hoped the surgery worked.

"Good, good," the doctor muttered. "Now, we should get some shots with full blood flow to the area as well." She glanced over at me, eyes shrewd, and her voice frank. "James, some patients are uncomfortable with this sort of thing. But it sounds to me like your modesty went out the window a while ago, here. We'll need your penis to be erect for this; that way we can see if the increased blood flow causes pressure on the nerve, or muscle tightness in your pelvic floor is doing something odd that the surgeon should keep in mind as they operate."

I nodded, uncertainly.

"...So you can either arouse yourself, or Mia can help." Dr. Carlson was expectant.

"I, uh..." I glanced at Mia. "If...you don't mind..."

She just gave me a small, nervous smile, and nodded. She applied a little lube to her hand. And then, without waiting for me to say anything, she ran her palm along my length, from the tip of my cock to the base, slowly.

I was so sensitive, and her hand felt so good. I bit back a groan; I didn't really want Dr. Carlson to hear that.

"Excellent," Dr. Carlson said, matter-of-factly. Her eyes were on the monitor. "I can see the blood flow increasing dramatically. Keep going."

Mia -- whose eyes were on me -- wrapped her hand around my length, now. "Just...don't get too excited." She said it softly, right in my ear so that only I could hear.

She started pumping me. Not teasingly, just deliberately. But her hand, slick with lubrication, reminded me precisely of the handjob I'd gotten from Natalie.

Reminded me of how quickly I'd cum. I tried to put the thought out of my mind. This was just a medical procedure. Even if it did feel really, really good.

"Good; that seems to be fully engorged, right?" Dr. Carlson was staring at the monitor and didn't wait for a reply. "Now, let's repeat the series we got earlier, Mia. Right side, occipital plane, get me some good depth."

Mia shifted her attention to the ultrasound. She was still idly fondling me, occasionally pumping my length with one hand. She'd move the paddle, hold it in place, fondle me some more.

Periodically, she'd glance up at me. Bite her lip. Look down at my cock.

I knew she wasn't trying to tease me. But over the next twenty minutes, this pattern kept repeating itself. Dr. Carlson's droned instructions. Mia, fondling me. Stealing glances at me, glances down at my cock, clearly enjoying it.

And then Dr. Carlson spoke, snapping me out of the aroused blur. "Try to control your breathing please, James. Deep, even breaths, and quit fidgeting. It's making things quite shaky. Let's try those last few again, Mia," She sounded exasperated.

I realized, with a jolt, that I was taking shallow breaths. Shifting under Mia's touch, bucking my hips into her hand a bit.

Because I was getting close to cumming.

Mia clearly saw what was going on. "Easy, relax," she said, softly, a note of concern in her voice.

"What's that, Mia?" Dr. Carlson asked, sharply.

"Um, nothing doctor." She gave me a meaningful glance. "Relax," she mouthed at me, again.

"Good," Dr. Carlson harumphed. "Let's continue, then."

As she maneuvered the paddle, her forearm grazed along my length. I let out a small, strained sound.

"Come on, James," she murmured, quietly. Her other hand was still fondling my cock, gently, keeping me aroused. "Keep it together."

"Yes, we've got a lot left to do here," Dr. Carlson said, obviously having heard her. "So don't ejaculate, James, we'll have to postpone the surgery to do all of this again, if you do."

Well, that was mortifying. I turned red. Mia did, too. I just grunted an acknowledgement.

Mia pulled her hand away, trying to give me some reprieve.

But Dr. Carlson took note, and wasn't having that either. "No, Mia, make sure you keep his penis engorged. We need a single series of ultrasound images for the surgeon, all at the same level of arousal."

Mia brought her hand back to my cock. I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the sensation.

"Sorry," she whispered, apologetically. "I can tell you're really turned on. I'm trying to do as little as possible, just hang in there."

In an effort to avoid Dr. Carlson hearing her, she was speaking low, right into my ear. I felt her lips brush the skin of my ear. God.

At least Dr. Carlson didn't seem to have heard her, and was pleased that Mia had brought her hand back to my cock. "Good. Mia, right side, two inches above his hip crease, occipital plane. Near the surface. Ugh, James, hold still."

Her tone was absolutely withering. I was trying to hold still, but I was so turned on, so sensitive. It was a constant fight not to buck my hips, push my cock into Mia's hand.

This pattern continued for what felt like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes. Mia, giving me the minimal stimulation possible as she moved the ultrasound equipment around at Dr. Carlson's direction. Even just from those slight touches, I kept approaching the edge, getting closer and closer, until Mia would notice and back off, giving me a moment of reprieve.

It was excruciating.

Dr. Carlson said, "Mia, the blood flow is staring to lapse a little. Stimulate him more. We're nearly done, James. Pull yourself together. Get control of your breathing."

"I-I'm trying," I muttered, resentfully. Some bedside manner she had. I could hear the derision in her voice.

Mia used her forearm to push a few strands of hair back out of her face. "Almost done," she whispered, encouragingly to me. Then she grabbed my cock and gave it a pump.

Oh, no.

It was more stimulation than she'd given me in minutes. I'd become accustomed to the gentle, soft touches she'd been using to keep me hard. This -- the firm, tight grip, the pump up and down my entire length, the way her hand, slick with lube, felt wrapped around me -- it was too much pleasure all at once.

"I, u-uh--" I said it louder than I'd intended as I froze, frantically trying to hold back the orgasm. Mia realized her mistake immediately, pulling her hand away.

Dr. Carlson whipped her head around at my half-formed words, all scathing dismay. "James. Do not ejaculate."

I closed my eyes, still trying to fight it the overwhelming need to cum. I didn't think I could stop myself.

Dr. Carlson was about to have a front row seat to my sensitive cock spraying a load out everywhere. She was glowering at me. "Young man, if you ejaculate, I'm going to be incredibly disappointed."

Mia was frozen, still hovering close, but she'd pulled her hands away, wasn't saying anything, trying to be as helpful as possible, I was sure.

I was right on the brink. I glanced up at Mia's pretty face. It'd probably get all over Mia, just cover her...

I wrestled with myself, for another moment, and then felt the orgasm recede, realized I'd staved it off. After a moment, I breathed out a sharp, intense hiss of air.

"Good," Dr. Carlson said, shortly. "But enough melodrama. James is clearly at the limit of his ability to tolerate this. Let's work quickly, Mia."

And they did. Five more agonizing minutes and they were done.

Dr. Carlson stepped out of the room for a moment after that.

I looked at Mia hopefully. Half an hour of edging had me hard, turned on, impossibly aroused.

She gave me a smile and softly, said, "I see how you're looking at me, James. Is there something you think I could help w--"

Dr. Carlson poked her head back in, all irritability. "Mia, stop flirting with the patient. Let's get James back to his room quickly, now. He's got a lot of surgery prep work to get through."

In that moment, I decided that I hated Dr. Carlson.

With a dismayed, apologetic look, Mia went to get another nurse to help transfer me to a wheelchair.

---

The next eighteen hours or so were odd -- flurries of activity interspersed with long periods of anxiety-inducing waiting. I'll spare you the boring details; someone stopped by to have me fill out a bunch of paperwork and waivers. Someone else stopped by to take my vitals. The surgeon -- an intense man -- stopped by to meet me and talk for a little. Another nurse stopped by to take my vitals. I couldn't eat dinner.

To cut to the chase: the next morning I was wheeled into a room where an anesthesiologist put a mask over my face, and everything went black.

---

I woke up an extremely indeterminate amount of time later, back in my room. It turned out to be early in the evening, and I felt okay -- just disoriented and exhausted like I had a hangover. I had some water, answered a nurse's questions, and then went to sleep.

When I woke up again the next morning -- feeling much better -- Denise was there, bustling about as usual, and glanced over at me. "Well, well. Back among the living, big guy?"

I nodded, blearily. There was a tugging sensation at my arm, where an IV was inserted. I glanced at it, concerned.

"Just fluids, she reassured me. "I can actually take that out, now. The surgery went well. No complications that they could see." She came over to my bedside, removed the IV. "Any odd sensations?"

I took stock, and shook my head. "No...I feel pretty normal." I felt horny, but that could be just the results of the ultrasound session.

Denise smiled, encouragingly. "Well, good. The surgeon said that if it were just the surgery, you'd be walking out of here today. It isn't just the surgery, of course. All the stab wounds, y'know. But it sounded like it went about as well as it possibly could've. Two small incisions in your low back and that was it."

I nodded, realizing that we hadn't really talked since before the surgery. "Hey, thanks for, uh, helping with the diagnosis, Denise."

"Well, after all the flattery you've been throwing my way, how could I not?" She gave me an exaggerated wink, and then said, more soberly, "But really, you've been a great patient. I hope it worked."

I nodded. "Thanks, but really. If you hadn't taken the time to help figure out what was wrong, they might never have..."

But she was waving her hands in mock-horror. "No, no. It doesn't matter how much you butter me up, young man, you're not getting another diagnosis out of me. That was a medical procedure."

I laughed at that. The familiar banter with Denise already had me feeling better, hopeful about my stamina having improved. "Well, it was worth a try," I said, as cheekily as possible.

"Besides," she said, with a knowing look, "You've got a visitor, if you feel ready to see people."

"Uh, sure." Who was it? Who did I want it to be? Natalie? Mia?

I was a little embarrassed that my first thought was that either would be fine, just so long as Denise cleared out of the room -- after yesterday's ultrasound session, I felt like I needed relief.

Denise poked her head out into the hallway. "You can come in, dear. He's awake and I need to make the rounds anyway."

Dear. Mia, then. I didn't think Denise would call Natalie dear.

She bustled out -- and then Kate came in, looking worried. Denise pulled the door shut behind her.

I stared, blankly. I hadn't been expecting Kate. "Uh, hey, Kate...thanks for coming by to see me." I smiled at her, a little uncertainly -- I wasn't sure how she felt about me in the wake of that first visit.

She eyed me with worry. "Hey. I showed up like an hour ago, but they said you'd been in surgery and were still sleeping it off, wouldn't tell me anything else...something about HIPPA. Are you okay? I feel bad I haven't been able to get back here sooner, it's been a busy few days..." She was apologetic.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, actually. Healing up well, I think. The surgery wasn't a big deal, just, uh..."

I debated whether to tell her what it had been about, but I wasn't even sure how to raise it. Remember how fast I came for you? Well, I don't usually cum that fast, turns out that was because of the stab wounds. It should be fixed now.

I decided that was a non-starter. "...some complications from the injuries," I finished, lamely.

"Oh. Good. That's good." Kate was looking at me, a bit uncomfortably.

Looking at my groin, I realized. I wasn't even hard, but I could tell she was recalling her last visit, too. We lapsed into a brief, awkward silence.

"So--" I started.

"--I brought snacks!" she exclaimed at the same moment, holding up a bag.

We both laughed, a little awkwardly, and she ran a hand through her dark hair.

"I figured the hospital food wasn't very good. I mean, nutritious, I'm sure, but..." she pulled out protein bars and some trail mix.

"Hey, these are my favorite brand of protein bars!"

She smiled, pleased. "I know. I asked around at work."

"Hey, thanks, Kate." I felt grateful. Nobody else from work had come by to see me.

"It's the least I could do. I still can't believe you got hurt so badly..." There was a little tremor in her voice.

But I waved her to silence with a smile. "No, no, no. We're not doing this conversation again; I'll just summarize. You feel guilty, I was just doing my job, sometimes I get hurt in my job. I'd do it again. It's okay."

She bit her lip and nodded.

I paused. I didn't want us to go back to the awkward silence. I decided to take a little risk. "Unless you want to tell me again how hot it was," I added, after a moment, with a knowing grin. "I'd repeat that part."

She giggled; I remembered the teasing sound from her first visit.

"I mean, it was really hot. You're so...um...physically competent." She said it softly. Her eyes drifted down my body again.

I was looking down at her legs, now -- the lean, toned muscle, the smooth youthful skin, the way those little shorts rode up as she leaned forward more.

I could recall how her thighs had felt under my hands, while she had ridden me on the last visit.

She crossed her legs, and leaned forward. "It is hot."

Mm. Flattery was a very nice change of pace after the last few days. The tension in the air was getting me hard.

Not only was I in desperate need of some relief, after the ultrasound session yesterday, I wanted to...test things, post-surgery. None of the post-surgery care regimen had said anything about refraining from activity; Denise knew what had happened the last time Kate was here, and I figured she'd have warned me off anything physical. This was a good opportunity.

I tried to come up with something else suggestive to follow that up with, but before I could, Kate spoke.

"I've thought a lot about the last time I saw you," she murmured, with an odd kind of intensity. "I think that's what made it so hot. I've watched you throw two dozen dudes out of that bar, no problem. But...only a minute of me riding you, and you...couldn't handle it..."

I reddened.

She was making eye contact with me, now, and I could see the excitement behind her eyes. "It was so hot. I figured you'd be the one who was in control, and you weren't. It made me feel so powerful..."

"I don't...i-it doesn't usually...happen like that..." I protested, lamely.

She made a low, aroused sound in the back of her throat. "Prove it, then," she said. She held my gaze as she stood and unbuttoned her shorts, sliding them down her thighs to the floor.

I was nervous. She sounded like Natalie.

I hesitated. But only for a moment.

Kate was hot. And I wanted to know what would happen. Whether the surgery had worked.

I pulled the hospital gown up and out of the way.

I was hard and ready, of course. Kate stared at my cock for a long, lingering moment.

And then she slowly moved to straddle me. "God. Yours is the biggest I've ever seen," she murmured. "It felt so good..."

My hands went to her slim waist to steady her above me. I could feel the heat coming off her body against my shaft, now. My cock twitched, like it was trying to reach her on its own. I was so aroused.

I ran a hand up to cup one of her breasts -- a small, perky handful -- through her t-shirt. I did feel a bit more in control than I had the last few days. More like myself. I would--

And then Kate sank herself down on my shaft, making a low, needy whine. I could feel my girth stretching her, feel her young body responding to accommodate me.

I let out a groan at the sensation of her around me. One of my hands snaked around to her ass, pushing her down further onto my length.

This was what I'd wanted yesterday. No gentle touches. No teasing. No medical procedure, no just-keeping-me-hard.

I growled, and, putting both hands around her waist, started thrusting into her, bucking my hips up the best that I could as she road me.

"O-oh," Kate moaned. She buried her face against my chest, moving her hips in time with my thrusts.

I felt more like myself with each passing moment. I slid one of my hands up her back, and gripped her hair at the base of her neck firmly, slowly forcing her to arch her back. "Ride that cock," I said. My other hand reached up to fondle one of her tits again.

"Y-yeah -- fuck -- riding that -- big dick -- again," Kate got the sentence out brokenly, in fits and starts.

I was dominant, in control. Hell, I even felt like I'd gotten stronger over the last few days, could control her better. I broke into a smile. "Tell me how much you like it, Kate."

"I-it feels so good, I'm so full of you," she whispered the words out, her voice frantic -- just like her movements, her hips rocking up and down me. "D-do you like how I feel?"

"God, yes," I grunted out. "You're so tight."

"I-is that why..." she let out a long moan as I started thrusting into her harder, and started again. "Is that...w-why...you finished...so fast...last time...?"

She didn't sound teasing -- she was just asking. Probably wanted me to respond by saying how good she felt.

But I didn't respond. The question reminded me of Natalie. And it made me realize that the dominance I was feeling was pretty fragile.

For one thing, I was starting to get close to cumming. I told myself that it was partly the way Kate was talking. Partly the edging Mia and Dr. Carlson had put me through yesterday.

I tried to focus. "Y-yeah, your wet little pussy feels good," I muttered.

And it was true, but my heart wasn't in the comment. I was focusing on trying to control my breathing, the surging arousal, to last as long as possible.

Alongside the orgasm, I could feel mounting anxiety. What if the surgery hadn't worked?

What if I was just stuck being a quick cummer now?

"Does it feel so good that you're just gonna lose control again?" Kate moaned the words out. "That big dick's just gonna explode in me?"

My only reply was a grunt as I tried to control myself.

"I-I'm still not on anything," she whispered. "S-so you probably shouldn't blow another big load inside me, like you did last time...that...that would be...bad..."

But her tone was devoid of worry, completely at odds with the words. It was obvious that the idea that I couldn't control myself -- even knowing I might get her pregnant -- was something she thought was hot.

I could feel her get wetter, feel her start forcing herself up and down my shaft even faster, as the words left her mouth.

Oh, fuck.

I made a strangled sound. This alongside the anxiety in the back of my mind was just more than I could handle.

Kate was looking down at me, and wantonly, whispered, "God, yes, I can tell you're gonna --"

With a groan, I arched my back -- as much as I could, anyway, given the injuries -- and started cumming.

The gasp from Kate as she felt me flooding into her only further fueled the long-pent-up orgasm. My cock spasmed, jet after jet pumping into her.

Her gasp became a satisfied moan as my orgasm just kept going.

If I'd had the wherewithal I'd have said something to try to reassert some semblance of dominance, to talk about how I was claiming her. But the sensation was totally overwhelming.

I spent myself inside her, the release overwhelming me with bliss. She was still making slow rocking motions atop me as the orgasm subsided, staring down at me.

She let out that teasing, musical little giggle, and then pulled herself off me, started dressing again.

I wasn't sure what to say. Wasn't sure there was anything to say. I was caught up in my own thoughts. Denise had thought it likely there was a physical component, even Dr. Carlson had thought surgery was a good option...had it just not worked?

Kate didn't seem to be interested in talking anyway. She gave a languid, satisfied sigh. "I do have to go, James. I'll come visit again soon."

She turned back just before she walked out the door. "God, it's so hot that you can't control yourself with me," she whispered.

I reddened. Sure, I was glad she thought so.

But I wanted to control myself. And I was worried that if I couldn't do it with Kate, I wasn't going to be able to do it with anybody.