Chapter 10: "Open Your Eyes"

"Mmmmmmmmmm." I opened my eyes and saw only white. I thought that I had died before I realized that it was the ceiling.

"Sir ... Sir, are you alright?" Who was that? Whoever was speaking had the sexiest English accent I think I've ever heard. I think she's to my right but I can't move my head. Why can't I move my head? Where am I? Why do I feel so fucked up? "Sir, can you hear me?" There's that crazy sexy voice again. I wanted to tell her that I was fine, save for the fact that I couldn't move my head, had blurry vision, and felt like I was on meth, but something skewed the actual words that came out.

"Mwuuuuuuuuuu." I could actually feel the drool dripping out of my mouth. I couldn't feel my tongue. What the fuck was going on? Maybe I was dead, but I can't imagine heaven being this shitty or hell being this strange.

"Finally awake I see, Mr ... Cameron Blake." Wait, that's a dude's voice. He sounds professional and sleazy. "Feeling a little woozy are we?" Slowly a man's face appeared in front of me. Whoa, he was all shiny and there was like three of him. Whatever I'm on, I want some more.

"Mwuuu, mwu mwu." That's it, no more talking for me. The dude chuckled.

"Cameron, my name is doctor Mortimer. A few hours ago you got hit by a Buick." It's never just a car with Buick's is it? You weren't hit by a car, but a Buick. Even through my vision I could see him sigh. "I'm sorry Cameron, but we had to amputate your right leg." What!? No wonder I can't feel it! Help! Get me out of here!

"MWUUUUU!" The doctor laughed again.

"No Cameron, I'm just joking, your leg's fine. You just have a large bruise on your side." Oh my God. As soon as I regain movement, I am gonna kick this dude's ass. "Actually, the nurse mixed your chart with your neighbor over here. He was brought in for tummy-tuck and you were accidentally given his pain medication. It can make someone feel a bit ... cozy" Hmmmm ... cozy ... I like that. In fact, I would be a lot cozier if this douchebag would get out of my face and let that English girl talk some more.

"Mwuuu mwuuu."

"What that boy? Timmy's stuck in a well. Hahaha." I swear to God, I'm gonna eat this guy's kids. "Don't worry son, the drugs will wear off in a few hours and your mother has been notified. Unfortunately, she's out of town, so your sister will be here to pick you up soon." Was he still talking? His face disappeared from my view and all I saw was white again. I still heard him speak even though his voice was hushed.

"Jesus Mia. How much did you give him?" I heard some mumbling, some bumbling, and some fumbling and then the door was shut. I presumed that I was alone. I could see nothing and feel nothing, but I heard something, and it sounded familiar. The faint melody of the most addictive song ever began on the in-room radio and as it got louder, my panic increased. I knew that I had to silence it before it really got going, before their sweet voices started singing, before I started humming along as well. But alas, just as I was starting to squirm, he let out the first note and I was hooked. It was the song that I hate and that I love. The song that I hate to love and love to hate, and even the song that I love to hate to love. It was Mmm-bop by those little Hanson bastards.

Yeah, I don't know if it was the drugs or what but after a few minutes I found myself singing through the lines with those little asexual dip-shits. I couldn't really pronounce words and I was continually drooling all over myself so it must have been quite a spectacle if anyone was watching. I found it interesting to let my vision trail from side to side as I sang along and I couldn't help but imagine that this feeling is why so many people tripped on acid in the 70's. I felt so ... groovy. But once I let my vision trail a little too far and caught the vision of someone sitting against the wall to my right. It startled me a smidgeon.

"MWUUUUU!" I saw the blurry, nearly-shapeless mass chuckle slightly at my guttural noise that sounded strangely familiar to a dying cow. I heard some tone to her laugh and realized that it must still be that English woman, presumably Mia. Actually, I didn't presume it to be Mia at the time. I was way too wasted for coherent thought. I just spat up some more dribble and continued looking like a retard. She laughed again as she stood up and walked over to my bed. She produced a handkerchief from a drawer next to me and started wipingsaliva off of my face.

"The drooling should stop pretty soon, and I'm not sure why you can't speak yet, but that should come back soon as well," she said. I could tell from her voice that she was holding back laughter but that voice was still bomb as hell. She had a voice that begged you to take her out for coffee just so you can listen to her talk for hours. It was the kind of voice that always ends up seducing James Bond. It was the kind of voice that made me crave a little spot of tea and some crumpets, or whatever the hell those things are called. It was a lovely voice and in the English tradition I wanted to tell her, "I fancy you!"

"I'm sorry I gave you the wrong medication sir. I really can't explain how it happened." The blurry figure of Mia stood over me menacingly. I half-imagined her to shove a pillow into my face and suffocate me. Still though, I knew how it happened. Everything that happens to me anymore revolves around the fact that I'm hot. She ran her fingers through my hair and wiped my face again. I think I made out a smile on her face. "My shift is over, but I'll stay until you recover. I can't help but feel responsible." After a slight pause, she continued. "That is, of course, if it's ok with you?"

"Mwuuu."

I wonder what kind of a sadistic bastard devised the idea of having a pull-out on-switch for a washer and a push-in switch for a dryer. This seems to be the universal system. Every fucking washing machine I have ever seen has a pull-out switch to turn it on, and every dryer, the button. Why are they different? Now you're probably thinking, "Cameron, who the fuck cares? It's not that big of a deal." But see, there has to be something going on here, or why the hell would they be different? I think it's a big conspiracy, because that's how cynical bastards like me explain everything that they don't understand. There has to be some super-evil suit-wearing bastards behind this. They know that you'll note the pull-out style of the on-switch when you start your load. They also know that you'll assume that the dryer will operate in the same manner. And finally, they know that you'll pop that fucking knob right off when you try to turn the dryer on by pulling out and have to fumble with it to put it back on. Tell me that has never happened to you! You see? It all makes perfect sense. Anyways...

"Oh baby, I'm gonna cum." I gasped.

"Uhhhhh," she said, "Cum inside me Cam, fill me up."

With a herk and a jerk and a moan and a groan I fired my jism into Janelle's pussy for the third time that night. I bent over and kissed her as I let my dick cool down inside her. After "exploding into her mouth" about two hours ago, I then proceeded to fuck Janelle from behind while she was bent over my couch until I came. After a short reload period, I then fucked her missionary position on the carpet, again, until climax. That would be enough for most people but I'll be goddamned if, not five minutes later, I didn't find myself plowing into her yet again, on the kitchen counter this time, bringing her to her umpteenth orgasm of the night. I probably ravaged her for a good 40 minutes straight on that counter before finally erupting, but it felt better than ever. It appeared that my new libido knew no bounds.