Chapter 3: What the Heck Happened?

Oh man, what an awful dream!

I woke up from what had to be a nightmare long enough to feel I was all snuggly warm under my covers before going back to sleep.

Oh yes! It is that dream! I know this one. It is the one where a bunch of girls tie me to the bed, blindfold me, gag me and then tease my dick inside my pajama pants until I shoot off to make my PJs all sticky.

Now it isn’t as good as where a girl pulls me off into one of my hiding places around the school. In that one, she pulls down my pants and underwear before pushing my little hard dick inside her until it shoots. That is the best one of them all.

Hmmm. That is different. The girls in my dreams never removed my pants before tying my legs down.

So far, all the girls teased me, by getting my dick had and up to where I was leaking out stuff, were always the same. There were still at least two girls touching me. One time there was a whole dozen. I couldn’t figure out how sets of girls played with me this time before I shot off. In this new version of the dream, the ever wiped my dick off with my pajamas instead of leaving a sticky mess for me to clean up.

Ok, I like this one better! I don’t have that wet sticky feeling as I am going back to sleep. Do I want to be left in bed without pants?

I started having the same dream, at first, but it changed again. Instead of the girls teasing me as my little pecker came into view, now there were only embarrassed giggles and whispers. The first girl to touch me didn’t just poke my dick around either. She took it between her thumb and fingers to stroke me until I was rock hard. After more whispers, I heard girls moving around my bed as they played with my dick and felt my balls. Finally, one girl started slowly stroking me until I felt like it was going to shoot. I felt something tight sliding down over the head of my now slippery boner.

Was one of the girls in my dreams going to drink the stuff that shoots out when it happens?

My dream didn’t let me decide what I wanted to happen since a few more strokes have me shooting off.

That one wasn’t as long as the others, but so what? I will wake up with wet pajamas.

Instead, the big event being the end of the fun, my dick kept feeling amazing until it was completely soft. From somewhere I heard water running. Someone was washing my disk and balls clean as I faded back to sleep. I liked this dream a lot, but I couldn’t see the girls touching me, or those that did it with me. It was always me in the dark with someone rubbing my dick until I shot off and then gently massaging it as it went soft. I still heard giggles and whispers.

Why would my dream have me feel like someone is pulling something out of my dick before I shoot and back in after washing my dick off?

Soon I started dreaming that it was only one girl most of the time. I couldn’t see what caused the warm, wet feelings I sometimes felt around my dick before shooting out the slippery liquid stuff again. I could only guess.

At least I am going back to sleep after I shoot off and wake up to find someone playing with my hard dick again. How many times in a row am I going to have this dream tonight?

I got my answer the next time I woke up. The bed cozy bed I was in wasn’t my bed at home. Instead of waking up to having the same erotic dream, I started realizing where I was now. Maybe it was a few hours, or perhaps it was a few days before I stayed awake long enough to recognize the familiar sounds I always heard when awakening in the hospital. I was soon back to sleep again. When I next awoke I listened for a few minutes. I finally decided I was going to stay awake long enough to check over my body for pain. Luckily, there wasn’t any/

They can give me all the bull they want about staying I’m such a crazy sleeper that they had to strap me down. I know it is the only way they keep me from getting out of bed.

After being restrained in the hospital so many times, I figured out which hand had the IV. This time it was in my right. I did the little trick that with my left wrist that freed me from that restraint. When I got my right arm free, I started doing as much of a physical check of my body as I could. Not only did I have the expected catheter, but I was wearing a diaper!

Why am I wearing a diaper and why is there a tube in my side?

Checking my face found my eyes had something taped over them. Since I hadn’t dozed back off immediately, I had to see where I was, so I started picking at the tape over my eyes to remove it. Upon opening my eyes, I felt intense pain worse than any I had ever felt in my life. My mind likened it to looking at the sun, without a filter, though a high-power telescope. Around me, there was a blood-curdling scream. I realized I was the one screaming, right before I passed out.

Dummy! After all of the times you have woken up in the hospital, they have never taped your eyes shut. You should have known better!

What did my stupid move bring me? Being awakened to the oh too familiar poking all over my body as a doctor or nurse was checking me out.

Dang!

They had strapped me back down again. This time the nurses added restraints on my arms that prevented me from doing my little wrist trick. It didn’t matter anyway. I was too weak to move even a finger. My mouth was too dry to even hope of speaking anytime soon. I wanted them to know I was awake again, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. At least I smelled my mom’s perfume from over beside the bed.

I didn’t smell it before, so they must have called her when I screamed earlier.

I had no way to let them know I was awake. As I tried to think of some way to get their attention, I started noticing colored flashes and squiggly lines all around me.

Trippy. Was this because of what is up with my eyes, or did I get some nifty new pain medicine?

As if I pressed the “see how cold we can make the patient button” I felt the cold blast of air as my covers down to my feet, followed by cold air on my balls when they removed the diaper. My ears were still ringing a bit from the explosion sound, so I couldn’t hear what they said. By the time the ringing in my ears ceased, I had another diaper on, and the covers pulled back up to my armpits. I didn’t hear anyone in the room. All the squiggly lines were gone. The other colored lines were still all around me.

Sometime later, I heard mom talking with someone until they started asking her for more detailed information.

Ah, there is my pediatrician. He took longer to show up than the other times I woke up here the other times. I may not be a little kid anymore, but I don’t want to have another doctor until I’m an adult.

“Jean,” my pediatrician said to my mom. “This is an excellent sign. David is showing good indications that he is returning to consciousness. He not only did us usual Houdini escape trick to get his hands free, this time he was alert enough at the time to realize his IV was in his right hand for once. We are hoping the worst is finally over.”

There was no mistaking the old nurse’s voice as she said, “Maybe he finally learned that we don’t just bandage him up to bump up the bill. Kid managed to get the tape off his eyes right as that sweet darling candy striper was coming in to read to him. Damn near gave that girl a heart attack when he screamed out. We had to find her some dry pants to wear on her bus ride home.”

“Per my standing orders, the nurses check him every fifteen minutes for any signs of response to stimuli. Until today he showed the same deep comatose state as when he arrived,” my pediatrician informed my mom. “His freeing himself and screaming in pain, before passing out, is the first time we have observed any response from him.

They didn’t restrain him after bandaging his eyes again. While making rounds, a nurse feared he had taken a turn for the worse from the way he appeared to be having a seizure. She was about to contact the neurology rapid response team when she noticed his right hand had a death-grip on the bed rail. David was using all of his available strength as he attempted to free his legs from the restraints. For once, he knew the IV was in his right hand. That kept him from ripping it out. The on-call doctor had to give him three times the usual safe dosage of sedative, for a child of his size, to sedate him enough that he wasn’t at risk of pulling out the feeding tube or hurting himself. For his safety, we are giving him a cocktail that makes his brain believe his voluntary muscles are asleep.”

Great! Now how am I supposed to let them know I’m awake now and can hear them?

Later I heard mom grousing about not being here when I woke up. Dad was softly explaining to her that she had no choice after showing no change in my condition for over a month. If she had quit her job to stay here non-stop until I woke up, she would have driven herself crazy. Then how was she going to care for me when I did wake up?

“Well I am glad your boy finally decided to quit laying around limp in the bed,” came the deep booming voice of the staff pediatrician. “When we can get him to speak, I’m going get him to give me the winning lottery number, all of them, and a list of ponies to boot. Since he arrived, I’ve questioned the existence of some form of higher power or that the possibility exists for human invincibility. Fortunately, for my ears at least, he validated the expectation that he will be extremely photosensitive to light. All non-electrical tests show that he is now responding exactly after awakening after his last stay here. Except for his eyes, we can’t find anything else wrong with him. This kid has survived some damn unbelievable life-ending accidents in the past. Damn if he didn’t bump up his game to prove that not even Zeus can smite him from this Earth.”

Huh? Who the hell is this Zeus person, and what did he try to do to me?

“Have you been able to take any x-rays, EKGs, or any of the electronic tests you have wanted to take,” dad asked.

I heard my regular pediatrician reply, “No such luck. We borrowed optically-isolated machines. They somehow fried before being plugged in. There is no scientific explanation for how his body can send electrical surges into the equipment. I did a lot of digging around in scientific journals they haven’t yet digitized. In Africa, some tribes have a tradition to wait half a day before approaching a large animal struck by lightning. Some scientific research found that residual charges can remain in the animal’s body. Their data indicate the charge only remains just under seventeen minutes post-strike. Human-made lightning tests achieved similar findings.”

Lightening? Did he say lightning struck me? That is a new one for me. If that is true, then this time is a significant step up from all the other accidents that should have killed me.

Let me see. There was the time I was on my tricycle in the driveway when the running car across the street slipped into reverse after someone ran inside quickly. It didn’t have the parking brake on. I never saw it coming, but my mom did. Even if she ran toward me at full speed, she wouldn’t have reached me n time. The car knocked me off my tricycle before slamming into a tree. Mom one tells me how I crawled out from under the car, crying, and ran to her for comfort. She didn’t even check if I was hurt, she put me in my car seat and drove me to the E.R. All they could find wrong with me were the tiny scrapes I had gotten on my hands and knees from crawling through the broken glass from the car. At least that was how I have heard the story told by my dad.

Mom’s version starts with me having blood all over my shirt, from where I had wiped off my bleeding hands. What she saw was my mangled, bleeding body walk towards her.

Around when I was six, I was sitting on the ridge of the room while my dad painted the eaves. Mom hated me being on the roof, but I always found a way to be up there anytime dad was doing repairs. Right after I stood up, a big gust of wind blew me off the roof. I landed flat on my neighbor’s concrete driveway. Many of my neighbors turned toward my house due to how loud the gust of wind through our trees was. Each told the same story of seeing me flying through the air to fall thirty, or so, feet onto the driveway. When my dad made it down to me, he found me surrounded by a group of neighbors. The fall knocked the wind out of me, so I couldn’t tell them I was alright. They just kept telling me to stay still because the ambulance was on the way.

During the ambulance ride, I told them that I was fine, had no broken bones, and no pain anywhere. Did they listen to me? Nope, they gassed me to sleep. That was my first ever time finding myself restrained to the hospital bed. The same old nurse, who I heard earlier today, told me that it was because I kept pulling out my IV and removing my catheter. After two days of tests, they decided that I had been right when I told them that I only had gotten the breath knocked out of me. There wasn’t a single broken bone, scratch or even bump on my head.

I wonder what, how, or who, was responsible for my not being hurt from the fall that should have killed me, or at least done a lot of damage.

Now I can’t even say I was a star gymnast or super ninja kid growing up. I was probably just a bit more uncoordinated than my peers. What always made me stand out was my knack to do something stupid or be involved in yet another accident that should have killed me. Instead, I would find myself waking up in the hospital with an IV and catheter as I got poked and prodded. My pediatrician would always tell me to be more careful as he was putting in the orders to discharge me.

I fell asleep when the adults were talking. When I woke later, I found that my body wasn’t weak anymore. This time I managed to work left arm free of the restraints before releasing my right and legs. I heard my mom come from my bathroom to sit beside my bed, where I always found her whenever I woke up in the hospital. I put my hand on her arm as I tried to speak. All that came out was a raspy wheezing sound.

ARRGGG! I hate it when I make that sound the first time I try to talk after waking up in the hospital.

Before I could get too frustrated over my dry throat, I felt someone pushing an ice chip against my lips. As soon as it was gone, I patted my mom’s arm to get another one. I don’t even remember the first time I started using that signal. Still, it worked just as well as it had the other times.

As I was sucking ice chips, my pediatrician came back in. He asked all sorts of questions. I gave him my usual thumbs up or down signal as he checked me over.

If mom here, you would have gotten a bird for taking my diaper off in front of her.

I did manage to croak out “lightning?”