A startling new development for our poor Mr. Smith as he, beginning a long road to recovery, most valiantly regains both his humanity and the use of an important digit.
"And so, as you can see the patient is quite unchanged despite the increased alpha scan readings from yesterday evening. We will see this in coma patients occasionally, where regaining consciousness happens not in a single moment but in stages."
A general murmuring of consent.
"If there had been any significant impact to consciousness, especially based on the duration of the reading cycle, there would most likely have been some staff awareness of this, can you hand me that chart there? Thank you, let's see, yes the nurse on duty reporting nothing unusual. Sasha? Sira? And they say a doctor's handwriting is bad!" Collective groan. "Ok, ok, let's move on to the next patient. We'll keep an eye on Mr. Smith here, though, I expect more activity over the coming days with a possible breakthrough soon, we'll just have to wait and see."
Sounds of footsteps retreating.
So, I was in a hospital, and apparently in and out of a comatose state...? That would explain why everything has been so foggy over the last few...days? And the dreams! Wait a minute, holy cow, Sarah, whoa, it seemed so...wow, just thinking about her generous rack was making me tingle. Mmm, that big slippery nipple in my mouth, oh, and that bark she gave when she got it from behind, oh man...
I reflexively reached my right hand to move my stiffening cock as I could feel it starting to pup tent under the covers. Unfortunately, it was not in a tent. For some curious reason in the real world it had slipped the earthly bonds of the surrounding fabric covers and was standing at full attention in the cool hospital air.
"Doctor! He's moved! He's moving, he's moving, he's - oh my!"
Back came the footsteps and in a hurry, a crowd of them from the sounds of it.
"Make way, make way!" I could hear him say through the rush, and then, squinting thru my half opened eyes, I could see at least six eager faces looking down at me on my bed.
"Oh wow!" a young woman said, staring with a somewhat surprised look at where my hand was. Shit, my raging hard on. She touched my arm and took a little sharp breath in. "Can I...take his pulse?" she stammered. Awkward silence.
"We, um, have machines hooked up to him for that, Kate." The doctor sounded perturbed.
"Oh. Right."
I felt someone thankfully pull the covers over the whole pornographic tableau.
"Mr. Smith can you hear me, can you respond?" he asked, somewhat loudly.
I gathered all my wandering thoughts into one place and opened my mouth to speak. My lips moved but no words came out. I tried again. "Ungh".
"I didn't get that Mr. Smith, can you repeat that?"
"Ungh, ungh. Nngth." My speech wasn't working all that well, but my dick seemed to be deflating with my focus now elsewhere, and it was heartening not having a bunch of people staring at my rigid Johnson propping up the covers.
He spoke again. "OK, I want you to think about every syllable you are going to say, then slowly, slowly say it. Take your time, we've got all day to wait." Was that attitude? I could see the jerk actually check his watch.
I took an instant dislike to this guy. Taking his advice, I carefully thought thru the whole response, formulating it in my mind syllable by syllable. When I actually spoke it was not even close to what I was going to say.
"Fuck." Pause. "You." Pause. "Buttwipe."
Gasps with a smattering of suppressed giggles.
"Ah, yes, well" he cleared his throat "ahem, yes, it's very typical that the comatose patient will slowly regain use of each aspect of his cognitive areas after being dormant, in this case the centers for speech control often correlate to the inhibition response platform and ..." he trailed off as I focused on a gentle tickling sensation on my arm.
Doctor Prick popped back into focus. "MISS SVENSKI! PLEASE remove your hand from the patients arm!"
"Oh, yes, certainly. Sorry." The warm tickle stopped as I saw her pull her hand away reluctantly and hold it in her other hand, gently rubbing it. As could be expected with a name like hers, she was a natural blond, but apart from that was nothing amazing from the bod department, average build, high blond bangs. Blue Nordic eyes, but she was no Valkyrie.
"Alright, let's move on and revisit Mr. Smith here later," he said, waving his hand with no uncertain terms to where my once raging cock, now flaccid and tiny, lay sleeping beneath the covers "when he's had a chance to rest up and get his thoughts... straightened out as well. Miss Svenski! If you'd care to join us?"
* * * *
I won't bore you with the particulars of the following few hours after Dr. Prick and his merry band left my bedside apart to say that I became fully conscious, verbal, and as far as I could tell back to my old self. Unfortunately, I really didn't quite understand who that old self was. I sensed there were memories just under my consciousness, but when I began to think of anything not immediately present and happening, the thought would move away like a slippery bar of soap in the tub, and every time I went to grab it, flop, there it went. It was getting somewhat maddening, and when the nurse came to take my blood pressure I told him about it as well.
"We're not really allowed to talk about it with you, what happened and all." John, the nurse on staff, sounded reluctant as he pulled up a stool. "Anyway, everyone's really happy that you're back here with us in the land of the living," he laughed, "and full of piss and vinegar. I heard what you said to Doctor Pritchett, VERY funny." He pulled off the pressure sleeve.
"OK that's it, you're good enough to travel."
"Huh?"
"Oh no one has told you, typical. You're getting transferred out to another care facility that's not quite so intensive care specific, they can spend some extra time with you on recovery, but seriously physically everything is looking just, um, great." A slight smile peeked thru on his lips. What was that about?
"There's often, you know, transitional psychological issues with coma recoveries, and they're great at helping out with those." He got up from the stool he was on and held out his hand. "It's been a pleasure, take care of yourself" he said as we shook, then he turned and walked away.
I watched him as he left, wondering what all this was about. Coma, land of the living, intensive care - I was beginning to have a lot of pressing questions form in my apparently re-active brain.
