A real bombshell

A beautiful nurse stands at the foot of your bed, holding a clipboard and smiling with full, cherry-red lips. Thick brown hair spills down from her paper hat, white with a red cross emblazoned on the front. Her uniform looks like what you suspect nurses wore in the early half of the 20th century, though to be more accurate it looks like every “sexy” nurse outfit you've ever seen in a fall catalog. Frosty blue eyes look softly out at you from behind large lashes, and it occurs to you that this whole scene bares more than a little resemblance to a frequent masturbatory fantasy you have at least a few times a month once those catalogs start rolling in. You're unsure if this makes you more or less nervous about the impossibly fake hospital room you appear to be trapped in.

“Mr. Pooplord?” she repeats, her voice a sultry whisper that even at a distance sends ASMR tingles traveling from your ears down to your dick. You give a slight, involuntary shiver as her words pass through you. “How are you feeling, Mr. Pooplord?”

“I think alright” you find yourself saying, the panic from earlier greatly mitigated by the arrival of the fall catalog nurse. Surely she could explain this hospital and why nothing in it made sense. For instance, how she entered the room just now when there doesn't appear to be a door. You also still don't seem to be breathing, though as far as you can tell that's not yet an issue.

“Good, gooood” she says, jotting down something on the clipboard. She really stretches out the vowel sound in the second good, putting a jolt right through your core. It's a good thing you're already in a bed or that would've knocked you right on your ass. Her voice seems to have a direct line to your libido, and you can feel your nethers stir in tune with her words. “People in your condition tend to go through great discomfort, not to mention emotional distress. Luckily we had this space prepared ahead of time, to ease you along.”

You should probably be panicking a little at this point, but that voice really helps take the edge off. It's the female equivalent to Morgan Freeman but is also well on its way to giving you an erection. “People in my condition?” you ask, afraid for the answer but excited to ear-snort that next hit of nurse speech.

“Yes” she says and looks up from the clipboard, those big, attractive eyes pointed right at you. “I'm sorry Mr. Pooplord, and we do realize this will come as a shock, but you've been dead for three hours.”