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I've been reading a lot of mind control stories lately. My Master used to read them. I found hundreds saved on His computer. He had the Erotic Mind Control Story Archive bookmarked in His browser. I read them a lot now. I read His favorites over and over.
A lot of His favorite stories have a common plot--a young man has some bizarre accident, wakes up in a hospital with strange mental powers and proceeds to make some pretty young nurse his fuck toy. There are quite a few of them, some better than others. He was even half way through writing one himself when the very thing He fantasized about so often actually happened.
Only thing is, somehow He neglected the waking up part.
The time I first saw Him, I was a LPN at Duke University Medical Center, working in the Neurology division. He was a sophomore in Trinity College named Drew Rosenthal. Security found Him unconscious in the middle of Duke Forest on the west side of campus, a nasty bump on His head with the skin burned as if He had been struck by something very hard and very hot. His accident report said He was covered in a fine red dust, but there was no trace of it by the time they got Him to the emergency room.
The ER folks quickly saw there wasn't much they could do with Him. He was breathing, His pulse was strong, no sign of internal bleeding, no danger of immanent death. But also no response to external stimuli. So, after dressing His head and starting His soon to be massive medical tab, they sent Him up to us in Neurology.
Dr. Silvana Ajouz was the attending that night when they sent Him to us. I didn't much like her. She had immigrated to the U.S. from Lebanon during their civil war and perhaps seeing her home destroyed explained the extreme bitterness of the slender Lebanese physician. Whatever the reason, though, she was a bitch to work for. Everything was serious to her and it had damned well be serious to you too.
Together, we went through all the tests the ER had already gone through. Hospital administration had already reprimanded Dr. Ajouz for doing this, but she just didn't trust the ER to do things right. I get paid no matter what, so as long as it was her signature on the paperwork I was glad to do it.
The ER had gotten it right with Drew, so we proceeded to several other tests, trying to determine why the boy wouldn't wake up. As the most common causes were eliminated, Dr. Ajouz got more and more excited. It was a slow night with very few neuro patients in our ward, so she kept coming back to Drew. His insurance would pay for just about any test--my Master came from money--and she was determined to solve this puzzle.
We took Him to have a CAT scan. Normally, an orderly would have just taken Him and let the techs do their work, but like I said, it was a slow night. Dr. Ajouz and I went with our patient. The result of the scans frustrated Dr. Ajouz and the technicians to no end. The detectors were all completely saturated. Dr. Ajouz kept insisting the equipment must need to be recalibrated and the tech kept swearing he'd done so that very afternoon. Finally, they decided to do a scan on someone else. I got volunteered being that I didn't really need to even be there. They scanned me and at least got an image, although the technician said there were several regions of odd activity in my brain. I didn't worry about it too much since obviously something was up with the machine. We put Drew back in but again they couldn't see a damned thing.
Later on we tried MRI and PET. We even took Him over to Chapel Hill and ran Him through their machines. But nothing would let us see into His skull. Dr. Ajouz got very frustrated and swore a lot in several languages.
And so, we watched and waited. His mother arrived the next day and was there in His room when I went on shift. I immediately knew who she was. She was talking in hushed, concerned tones with Dr. Ajouz, her tearful eyes never leaving her motionless son. Dr. Ajouz looked odd. Obsessed, like she often got with unusual patients, but with a sort of disorientation that made her seem almost human.
Mrs. Rosenthal hugged me before I even introduced myself. I looked questioningly at Dr. Ajouz, but she was staring at Drew, her lower lip quivering.
"You'll help my baby, won't you Nurse Amy?" asked His mother. "He needs you!"
"I... We'll do every thing we can," I stammered. "He... he's a really special boy."
"I know you can make it better," she said, "We're counting on you."
She sniffled and released me from her bear hug.
"I'll leave you ladies alone with him. You call me if there's any change now."
She put on a brave face, took one last glance at her son, and left us alone with him.
"That was... wierd." I said to Dr. Ajouz as I joined her at Drew's side.
"Every thing about this is wierd," she said, not looking away from our patient. "It doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense."
"Yeah," I said. We stared at him in silence. I wondered why she had called me Nurse Amy and why I liked the sound of it.
"I should go finish my rounds," she said.
"Yeah. I need to see other patients too," I said.
We continued to watch him for another quarter of an hour.
I noticed it the following evening after Dr. Ajouz had left muttering to herself in Lebanese. (Our shifts overlapped by only 3 hours, though she had stayed until the end of my shift that first night, trying to figure out what was wrong with Him.) Dr. Dunlap came on as attending and started flirting with Mary, the ditzy blonde LPN. They always did that, expecting me to pick up the slack. It usually pissed me off, but not tonight. Tonight I was feeling strangely relaxed. I went about the ward humming softly to myself. It took me a while to notice that between each patient, I went to check on Drew. It wasn't until the 5th visit that I noticed it.
Now up until this point I could tell myself that everything was normal. Yes, I was spending an inordinent amount of time with one patient, but it was an unusual case and He was an interesting patient.
But then I saw it.
Now unconscious and comatose men get erections, especially when they're young. You giggle about it in nursing school and some nurses gossip about the ones who are unusually frequent or persistent, but for the most part, you get used to it. I hardly even noticed it anymore.
But Drew's was different. I was drawn to it.
I'd tear myself away, go back to check on another patient, and without really remembering how I'd find myself back in His room, staring at that bulge beneath the blanket. I started to feel very, very warm. I told myself it was just the room that was warm--much too warm for a comatose patient to be covered by a blanket.
I pulled the blanket down. The sheet followed. He lay there, motionless as ever, slowly inhaling and exhaling. The only other evidence of life was His dick standing at attention beneath His gown.
I stared at it. I walked around Him slowly, seeing it at every angle. I wanted so much to touch it. But no, I couldn't do that. I shouldn't have even been there. He was comfortable and monitored and medicated. He didn't need anything else from me.
He needed a sponge bath. It was my duty as a nurse to make sure my patient was clean and comfortable.
I filled a tub with warm water, got a soft terry cloth and a bottle of baby oil. It was important to keep a comatose patient clean and keep His skin from becoming chaffed and sore, I told myself. Yes, that's why I was doing this. It was my job.
I took off His gown and my stomach did somersaults. There It stood, stiff and thick and beautiful, It's circumcised head like a fat ripe strawberry, making my mouth water. I forced myself to start washing at His face and work down, as was customary, but I didn't do a very good job; I just couldn't keep my eyes off His cock.
At last, I reached the object of my fixation. I took the engorged flesh in my long-fingered fist with no regard for the customary 'hands-off" technique. It was hot, vibrant, a spear of life thrust forward to anchor its owner to the world. I dabbed at it perfunctorily with the sponge, then went for the baby oil. I smeared it all over His Manhood, dizzy as blood rushed out of my head and into my own genitals. I felt so hot, so good, and the fear of discovery or of my own perversion was drowned out by the crashing waves of my own pleasure.
"Mustn't let it chafe," I whispered consolingly to my dying conscience, "Mustn't let it chafe."
Drew's breathing came harder now, stronger, but His face remained expressionless. Still, I knew that He was pleased with me, that I lived to give Him pleasure, and that by giving I received. I gently took His balls between my fingertips as the other hand continued to pump. They were so soft, so precious. I moaned and moistened.
I knew what He needed and gave it to Him without reservation. I opened my mouth and engulfed His precious member. The taste of baby oil and flesh and the feel of cock in my mouth were superseded by myriad unnamed sensations that coursed through my mind and body.
.... There is more of this story ...