...they're not working!...
Panic surfaced in my mind, as I pressed my foot down again on the brake pedal, only to be rewarded with a dull thump as it hit the floor.
...Oh god oh god oh god...
I swerved, realising that I had been veering into the other lane. The oncoming traffic honked their horns and I caught several drivers angry glances or upturned digits faced in my direction. I looked to the dashboard, to see the needle on the speedometer still rising, even though I had taken my other foot off of the accelerator, while I repeatedly thrust down against the brake pedal, hoping it would somehow suddenly start working. I glanced down further, to see the accelerator had jammed against the floor.
...this can't be happening to me...
But it was. I looked up again - just in time to see the tailgate of a truck in front, it's own brakelights blinking back at me as if to say 'look, mine work!'
...oh fuck!....
Just in time to see it - not avoid it.
* * *
"...he's got a pulse..."
I found myself staring down on the scene of an automobile accident - my crash. Firefighters. Paramedics. Cops. The firefighters were cutting me out of my wrecked Chevy.
I stared with a mixture of horror, astonishment and fascination as they pulled me free and onto a readied stretcher. The paramedics knelt beside my body, one placing an oxygen mask over my face. A thin silvery thread seemed to stretch down from me to the body on the stretcher below - or should that be from my body up to where I was trying to take in this strange view? Was this one of those 'out of body experiences' I had heard tales of? Was I dying?
Everything went hazy, and then black.
* * *
I 'awoke' again, this time in what was obviously a hospital room. I was led - my body was led - out on a bed, one arm in traction, and a bandage around my head. A tube was fed down into my other arm, from a drip. After a few moments, I realized that I could move my angle of view, and then, I raised a hand. Not a hand on my body, but a ghostly, insubstantial hand. I spent several minutes trying to grasp at the guardrail on the end of the bed, ineffectively, then noticed the clipboard hung there.
'Frank Muller, DOB 24/3/77...' I read quickly downwards, until I saw '14/3/01 : No change in condition, still in coma'.
In a coma, from the date, for over three weeks. Again, I noticed the silvery thread between me and my body.
The door opened, and a couple of nurses walked in, pushing a trolley with what looked like fresh linen and a washbasin.
"Good afternoon Frank!" chirped the taller brunette, "how are you today?"
"Don't be wicked, Cathy" said the blond, with a faint smile nonetheless.
"Sorry" said the brunette - Cathy obviously - "it is a shame& such a cute looking guy and we can't even strike up a conversation... he's hung like a god damn horse as well."
"Cathy!"
I would have blushed at Cathy's last words if I could. I wouldn't go that far, but I had never been upset with what I had downstairs.
They pulled back the sheets, and undressed me, for a bed wash. If only I wasn't in a coma... the sight was arousing to say the least.
"Okay... you're right" said the blond, and she touched a hand to my cock. I felt her fingers brush against me there - despite the fact that I was not 'in' my body.
"About what?" asked Cathy.
"He is a very big boy" the blond replied, "hey, it twitched!"
"You're kidding, he's out like a light" said Cathy, reaching down and taking hold of me herself. I felt her hand wrap around my currently flaccid member.