Recovery

The rest of my stay in the hospital passes in a sexual haze. First, Morgan introduces me to the other three nurses on days, Samantha, Naomi, and Ashlynne. Ashlynne is an elf—I don’t mean she’s elfin, I mean she looks like she could be one of Tolkien’s Elves. Except perhaps for the soft green hair, the pale green of birch leaves in spring, because I don’t recall Tolkien giving any of his Elves green hair. It’s a fitting color, though, with her willowy figure, ethereal beauty, and deep green eyes. Her breasts are perfectly-shaped little mounds with large, sensitive hot-pink nipples that point jauntily upward; her ass is small and round and insanely tight and looks really hot when she bounces it on my cock. She’s fondest of spooning with me, however.

Ashlynne has only just been Enhanced: the morning I woke up in the hospital, she wasn’t actually on (hence the presence of that male nurse), she was at the hospital for her Enhancement. She had been talking with Samantha and Naomi, asking them what to expect, when I hit the call button. She rushed into my room along with them to get the chance to meet me, then left to be checked in for her procedure. As strange as it seems to me, she was back to work in a few days.

Naomi is also tall and slender, but rather than an elf, she’s an African queen. That’s not just me saying that, either—she tells me at one point that she was inspired by the 15th-century Hausa warrior queen Amina. Her hair is a shimmering rose-gold; I have no idea how metallic hair colors are even possible, but they obviously are. Maybe sometime I’ll be able to explore that. Her ass is even tighter than Ashlynne’s, but I mostly see her deep pale-pink cleft with its large clit, because Naomi loves oral. She particularly loves 69ing. She does ride my cock a few times as well, but she makes it clear that what she most wants from me is to feel my dick in her mouth and my mouth on her pussy.

Samantha, by contrast with them (but like Morgan), is short and busty with full hips and an apple-shaped ass. Samantha isn’t the name she was born with; she’s a huge fan of the novel Ready Player One, primarily because of the character Art3mis—Samantha Evelyn Cooke. (I loved the book; no one has been able to tell me what I thought of the movie, and I haven’t had the chance to watch it yet to find out for myself.) When she was Enhanced, she had herself done according to the book’s description of the avatar (which is to say, not including the birthmark) and then legally changed her name. Her hair is a pale blue-lavender which is absolutely gorgeous. Samantha is a firecracker in bed, riding me hard and fast and extracting a promise from me to look her up once I’m back to full health and fuck her unconscious.

Oddly (to me, at least) those four share a twelve-hour shift, trading off so that each one works eight hours and there are always at least two nurses present. Samantha takes the first eight hours, Naomi comes in two hours later, and Ashlynne two hours after Samantha; Morgan works the first four hours and the last four, and typically spends much of the middle four in bed with me, either alone or with someone else. Naomi never joins us—she only wants me one-on-one—but we have threesomes with both Samantha and Ashlynne.

Of course, we’re also joined by Dr. Asbury, who has a strong preference for threesomes . . . though I think that may be in part because of a strong voyeuristic streak. She’s a stunning sexual athlete who, in the throes of passion, doesn’t always remember her strength; the two occasions when she and Samantha double-team me both end with apologies from the women for injuring me. I assure them that even if they had killed me, it would have been worth it.

I don’t see as much of the night-shift nurses; the hospital seems to be more concerned about a possible attack during the night shift, so they spend less of their time in the room, and of course I’m asleep for much of the shift. Plus, Morgan stays with me for a few hours each night after her shift ends. The night nurses do perform the time-honored duty of coming in to wake me up to find out how I’m sleeping, and then they check my vitals—though I’m pretty sure they’re the only nurses in the world who would say the best way to take my temperature is with their mouths on my dick.

My strength comes back slowly. At first, I need one of the nurses to help me get to the toilet; once I can do that by myself, I still need them to help me bathe. Before long, I only need them to help me shower . . . and then it’s not too long before they’re only showering with me to get fucked. I’m not up to anything hugely energetic, but the shower and tub are separate, and the shower stall has a very nice seat that works just fine for sex.

Eventually, the medical staff agree that I’m ready to be discharged: the only thing wrong with me is my memory. They’re concerned that it hasn’t come back at all, but there’s no point in keeping me hospitalized. If my memory is going to return, it’s more likely to do so in surroundings and situations that were familiar to me before the accident. Since I’ve asked Morgan to come home with me, the hospital decides to designate her as my live-in nurse. Dr. Asbury doesn’t like letting me go even though she knows it’s the best thing to do, but having one of her nurses living with me eases her concern.

I get dressed and walk out of the room without a backward glance. Morgan leads me down to the waiting car.