At first, Alan could only float.
It was an eerie feeling. It was like he was swimming, but there was no pressure of water around him, nothing muffling his ears, nothing impeding his breathing.
That was the first sound he could pick out: the slow rush of his breath, in and out. Then his heartbeat: steady, strong-he took that as a good sign. Then other sounds: a steady beeping in time with his heart, the distant hum of an air conditioner, and people moving, their clothes rustling and steps on floor with no carpet.
He could feel, too. He was wrapped tightly, especially his head-it felt like a wad was tied around his skull. He also felt an ache in his arms, and the angry mutter of bruises. Actually, a lot of bruises, especially on his back and legs. But they were sort of distant and dulled, like he was dreaming them.
Alan tried opening his eyes. But they wouldn't open. In fact, no part of him would move-not his nose, his legs, or even his fingertips. He felt a surge of panic-he pushed harder, trying to get his body, any part of his body, to shift just a little. All this did was bring a sudden, scarlet headache blooming in his skull.
He stopped, and the pain subsided. Then he pushed again, harder. His head lit up like it was on fire, or dipped in boiling oil. He recoiled, and stopped right away. His head felt like it smoldered for a while, but the painful embers gradually died down.
It was dark. But Alan's mind was still awake. He was acutely aware, even if the feeling of his body seemed a little dimmer than usual. The sound of his breathing did not change in any way, but somehow, he took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
Alan tried something again, but this time, with just his powers. It was sort of like when he was Direct Inputting someone, but it didn't have a target. Or maybe he was the target. He was just trying to... pull something. Or push. Reach out in some odd way.
This also made the crown of his head ache, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had felt just now. He focused on that ache, pushing from there, moving something unseen.
Then there was a sudden... shifting feeling is all he could describe it as. The darkness of his closed eyes suddenly began to brighten. It was less like his eyelids were opening, and more like someone had started to slowly bring up the lights of a very dark area.
After a few moments, the actual room brightened into focus. White floor and walls, tiny bathroom/shower to one side, a large window, a couple of chairs with pastel upholstery, and cupboards behind the bed. The bed was...
He turned, and froze, looking at the bed. He was still in it. Alan stared at his own face, wrapped in bandages around his forehead.
"Holy shit," he said, jerking away. Or at least, moving away slightly. But not far. He stared at his face, then leaned closer to look at it. He tried to reach out with a hand, but oddly, he had nothing to reach out with. He looked down at what should be himself, but there was nothing. Just his body, sleeping sedately in the bed below him.
"I'm... having an out of body experience," he said finally. "Only, I don't seem to be too far out. Like, I don't see spirit hands and arms and such. In fact, I'm really not sure what I'm talking with."
He frowned (or at least, he felt like he did-his face in bed was as placid as ever) and looked himself over. He had an IV in, and was wrapped and bandaged various places on his body. He was relieved to see he wasn't in any sort of neck brace, but his left arm was in a cast from his hand to just below his elbow.
"Why..." Alan started, but then it clicked. "Oh, right. I was in a car accident."
He tried to recall the details of what had happened, but it was still murky at the moment. He recalled such things often came back to you some time after.
He was about to look over his wounds further when he heard footsteps, and turned toward the sound. After a moment, a nurse in blue scrubs entered, a tablet under one arm. Alan couldn't help but stare.
She was a redhead-real, natural red that went in smooth waves to her mid-shoulders. Her skin was pale, with a scattering of tiny freckles, and she had high cheekbones that framed dark green eyes, and a long, narrow face with a slightly pointed chin. She was slim and a bit over average height, and her chest... Alan was about to look away, but suddenly he realized that there was no way she could see him staring. So he got closer to take them in.
They seemed good sized, but honestly, it was hard to tell through the square-shaped scrubs. But when she paused to check her tablet, and turned to read his vitals, she bent slightly, and he got a great view of her ass. It was easily her best feature so far-well curved, toned, a great shape.
"Wow," he said. "It actually exists. The mythical hot nurse."
She turned back, and started looking at his face, checking his eyes, and the bandages. Vaguely, he could feel the softness of her hands on him. He spotted her badge-Anna Scott.
"Anna," he said, "you have got a great ass. If your scrubs weren't so unflattering, I might be able to tell what else you've got."
If she heard him, she gave no indication. She merely looked at him with a steady frown for a moment, and then tapped several things into her tablet. As she bent over it, a single lock of hair slid in her way, and with an absent gesture, she pulled it back behind her ear. When she did, Alan spotted it-her wedding ring.
He let out a big sigh, and settled back. "Ah well," he muttered. "You're great eye candy anyway, Anna. If your body is half as hot as it seems to be inside those clothes, I'd fuck you in a burning hot minute, but I've made it my policy to avoid women with husbands. Maybe there is a moral reason to it, but if I'm honest, it's mostly because husbands of hot women usually own guns."
Anna didn't answer, of course. But after tapping a few more things into her tablet, she did pause to look at him. She looked at his face for a while, but then her eyes traveled down his body. If he could have, Alan would have tilted his head.
"What are you doing, Anna?" he asked.
The question seemed to shake her. Or at least, she suddenly shook herself, tucked the tablet under her arm, and started toward the door. Alan watched her ass as she left, enjoying the view as he felt a slight stirring in his pants. Funny how he could still feel *that* clearly.
But then Anna stopped. She stood there, right in the doorway, and then turned to look back at Alan. Her expression was unreadable, but she looked a little flushed. She turned away again, taking a step, but stopped again. Suddenly, she took a quick look up and down the hallway outside, and stepping back into the room, she quietly closed the door.
"Um... Anna, I don't mean to sound accusatory," Alan said as she quickly approached the bed, face intent, "but you seem super sketch right now. And is it just me-it seems like it is-or are all my thoughts sounding out loud? Is this a side effect of semi-disembodiment? Is that even a thing?"
Alan might as well have been talking to a wall. Anna bent over him, her face close to his, placing her hand on his chest. It gave him a good view of her cleavage where the scrub top fell forward. It was pretty substantial.
"Well, I guess that answers that question," he said.
Anna's hand squeezed his chest, running her fingers over the muscle of the pecs, then slid down to his stomach, then just over his pelvis. She paused there a moment, her breathing picking up and the pale skin of her face reddening. Alan felt his heartbeat start to pound: the heart monitor picked up just a touch.
Then Anna slid her hand down over his crotch. She cupped his package a moment, moving his balls in her fingers, and then started to slide her finger tips over the length of his shaft. Alan's cock immediately responded by lengthening out a little.
