Incredible Changes
Chapter 3: What the Heck Happened?
Copyright© 2013 by Dead Writer
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 3: What the Heck Happened? - David is a apathetic eighth grader who has a very dramatic experience with nature that forever changes his outlook on life and guides his future.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa ft/ft Mult Teenagers Consensual NonConsensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Science Fiction First Masturbation Oral Sex Safe Sex
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?”
My voice was extremely gravelly, but I know I was clear enough for them to at least understand me.
“Take it easy there, David. You have been in a coma for a long time. Suck on the ice chips. I need to make a call to someone who can better answer your questions. You aren’t going anywhere anytime soon,” he said as I laid there with my catheterized penis out on display for anyone looking in my window.
Man am I going to catch a lot of shit from kids at school when one of them looks in to see I have to wear diapers again.
Mom put her hand over mine as she told me she would say to me what she knew of what happened while the doctor went to make his phone call.
She didn’t get the chance. A big group of people walked into my room. When they were moving around my bed, I noticed lots of different colored squiggly lines that flashed any time someone moved around. Turning my head, I saw that the squiggly lines were always moving. The straight lines weren’t.
I hope whoever they are calling can explain these colored lines. I don’t want to find out this accident made me go crazy somehow.
Once they left, finally, I waited for mom to fill me in. Instead, dad told me, “You are beyond being lucky to be alive, David. As the saying goes, is if you are close enough to hear thunder, you are close enough to be hit by lightning and trees prove to be terrible places to seek shelter. Occasionally the late news will have a quick piece on someone getting hit by lightning on a golf course. Every few years there will be a story about someone miraculously surviving two lightning strikes to objects near them. As hard as I tried to find any references online, or off, there weren’t any records of someone having survived more than one direct or two indirect lightning strikes. All the people who checked flagpole hill guestimated between five and twelve different lightning strikes hit the small hill after the one splintered the old flagpole. Your school is part of a meteorological data collection site. Their detectors picked up ninety-seven lightning strikes in a half-mile area around your school during the five minutes the eye of the storm was overhead. They found dozens of locations with fused soil and melted rock around the hill caused by the lightning. Most were on the backside that is off-limits to students. Seven of the most recent places were within feet of where they found your naked body.
Further analysis confirmed the crystalline structure that a different bolt of lightning created each one.”
“I was naked,” I interrupted knowing that I would not get in trouble for it since I was in the hospital after all.
“Not completely,” he answered with a small laugh. “The EMTs and a few of your peers said you still had your belt around your waist and an inch of one cuff from your blue jeans around one ankle. The found one shoe’s rubber sole melted to the concrete at the base of the destroyed flagpole. An air conditioner on the roof the school suffered significant damage from your other shoe. While morbid, someone set up a betting pool for guesses as to where they may find fragments of your clothing. The winner said the lightning’s head vaporized your clothes.”
Mom squeezed my hand and said, “I don’t know if you remember running into the rope girls were using to practice tug-of-war. Your jerking the rope from their hands caused them to get grass stains all over their clothes as they rolled down the hill. You may think no one at the school notices you, David. Causing those girls to roll down the hill and get grass stains on their clothes made them notice you. All the girls were fuming mad and dead set on making sure you knew it too when they found you. Someone said they saw you standing on top of the hill holding the rope in both hands when the storm blew in. The mob of angry girls headed off that direction. Their anger vaporized, like your clothes according to the winner of the betting pool, when they found your naked, unmoving body at the bottom of the hill with pieces of charred rope wrapped around your arms. People found charred pieces of the rope between your body and the top of the hill. Only God or whatever higher power protects you, can say for sure, David, but many of the people in town said your heroic actions saved all those girls.”
“I for one can confirm that if David hadn’t pulled the rope from them that the girls wouldn’t be alive today,” a deep male voice said from over beside my bed. “I spent nearly every evening during the summer, taking measurements, photographs, and gathering soil samples at the site. I hired independent contractors and geologists to do an independent analysis of the site. After compiling all their reports, I confirmed my original hypothesis seven different times. One of the lightning strikes hit multiple places on the ground where the girls lined up along the rope. The largest, from the strongest bolt of lightning, struck seven inches perpendicular to here your body hit the big knot in the middle of the rope. Analysis of the rope showed the presence of metallic fibers. Each girl would have suffered either a direct or indirect lightning strike. While you may not think of your self as a super-hero, David, you did something superheroic. Like most super-heroes, your identity and deeds must remain secret.”
Oh, come on! Really? I supposedly save a bunch of girls and survive being hit by lightning, but no one can know? That sucks!
At least he was smart enough to know that I was going to need a few seconds to process what he had told me.
When he next spoke, he said, “Now I need you to keep your eyes tightly closed. Don’t open them even a tiny crack until I tell you it is ok. My company specializes in making dark glasses for extreme sensitivity to light. If you do as I ask, you will find opening your eyes to be much more pleasant than earlier today.”
I expected him to be all slow and gentle as he removed the tape and pads over my eyes. Instead, he did the bandage, or duct tape, removal trick and ripped the tape off in one fast pull. I was warned to keep my eyes closed as I felt something cold being pushed down around my eyes. A strap went behind my head before tightening until he decided it was tight enough to hold the things over my eyes in place. I was about to complain about the pain around my eyes just as I felt him touch the part in front. A hiss from each side completely removed the pain I had been feeling. Once he checked carefully around each eye, I was told to open my eyes just a tiny bit.
“Is that better? Can you open your eyes fully or is the light still too bright,” the man asked me.
I didn’t have any pain this time as I opened my eyes. Oddly the room looked like I was standing outside in full sunlight even though I saw only a small lamp was on in my room now. Looking around, I saw a tall man wearing sunglasses looking down at me from the left side of my bed. My parents were on the right side of my body. All of the doctors and nurses were standing at the foot of my bed. That was when I noticed that I wasn’t seeing all of the colored lines around me.
Phew! That is a relief. It only seems to happen when I close my eyes.
Not wanting to try to suck on any more ice chips right now I gave him a thumbs up. It seems I wasn’t going to get away without speaking.
“Can you please give the best description you can regarding how bright the room looks to you right now, David,” the tall man asked.
He was very patient as I sucked on the dozen ice chips it took to get out, “Bright sunlight at noon under a clear sky.”
The man adjusted whatever he had over my eyes to darken everything down. Soon my hospital room looked closer to the light in the classrooms at school.
“I did have hope that your miraculous ability to survive life-ending accidents, uninjured, would let you escape without suffering from acute light sensitivity. It appears you weren’t so lucky this time,” he told me. “At the moment the lightning struck your body, it blocked the signals from your brain to your muscles. You could not prevent your eyes from being exposed to the bright arc flash from the lightning. Unless someone finds a solution, you will be wearing light-blocking goggles for the rest of your life. Given your current longevity, I expect that will be quite a long time.”
His joke broke the tension that had built in the room and made everyone laugh.
They adjusted my bed so I could read an eye chart on a stand at the foot of my bed.
Did they make these goggles to my prescription?
During the first weeks of kindergarten, I had an eye test. I failed it so spectacularly that I got a pair of bullies attracting thick-lensed glasses. I assumed the things over my eyes were a smaller version of the machines used in the eye doctor’s office to fine-tune my permanent light-blocking glasses. Someone handed me a small notepad to use to write down the letters as I read down the lines of the eye chart. It was pretty messy. I used my left hand due because of the IV in my right. I didn’t have any trouble reading the 20/15 line on the chart.
Now that mouse type giving the vendor’s name and web address much annoys the hell out of people who can’t read it. My vision is much better. My eye doctor wasn’t able to get me a prescription that let me see all the letters on the 20/20 line.
Excitedly the man exclaimed, “Excellent! You have proven another of my hypothesis. Truly amazing! Before the onset of their symptoms, each of my patients with hypersensitivity to light possessed perfect vision and better than perfect vision afterward. I theorized that the intensity of the light in the lightning arc work similarly to laser vision correction. I didn’t have any data for the possibility that lightning could correct your myopia and astigmatism.”
He then had everyone, except my parents, leave the room for a bit of private family time. Mom immediately dropped the left side bed rail to be able to give me a big hug. Dad was there right next to her, holding her as she cried softly. While I was waiting on mom to finish holding me, I noticed that there when I closed my eyes, one of the lines I saw went up to where there should be a TV.
“The man said people think I saved some girls by being hit by lightning instead of them? Doesn’t that rate me having a TV? Are the girls still so pissed that they won’t let the hospital give me a room with a TV?” I asked hoarsely.
Dad chuckled a bit before saying, “Well, you’ve had a few TVs during your stay here.”
“You have had a lot more than one,” mom said, with a small exhausted laugh. “After the third one pretty much exploded and caught fire, they just moved you to a new room that did not have a TV, phone, or anything electronic.”
“You know that the sciences aren’t my strength. I do understand the basics, but the rest escape me. The man that brought you the goggles tried to explain it to me in simple terms. Somehow your body keeps acting like a supercharged battery from all the lightning strikes to your body, or close to it. He didn’t know if your body was pulling in energy or sending it out. Whichever it is, you have the same effects on electrical devices, except for lights. Either way, it was having the same impact on anything that uses electricity except for lights. The paramedics tried to connect you to an EKG machine and a cardiac monitor, but their devices shorted out. It happened in the E.R. after you arrived. They had to resort to old fashioned stethoscopes to see if they could hear a heartbeat. After a bunch of nurses, medical students and three doctors tried to find a pulse. You were pronounced dead. When the mortuary orderly came to take you to the morgue, he noticed that your body was still hot even three hours after being hit by lightning. Someone found some old fashioned mercury thermometers to take your temperature in your butt and one under your arm. Eight hours after you arrived at the hospital, your temperature was still one-hundred-four degrees. A bright doctor, doing his residency here, suggested placing an icepack on one of your thighs for a few minutes and then remove it to check if the area warmed back up. That would prove your heart was circulating blood. It warmed back up, and they decided you weren’t dead, so you got an IV and catheter. Your temperature dropped to one-hundred-two degrees two weeks later. They inserted a feeding tube to nourish your body. Hours after they started to feed you through the feeding tube, your temperature dropped to normal, and they were able to find a pulse. The first TV shorted out that same day.
Mom squeezed my arm gently and said, “I was here watching the news. The nurse was doing her daily checks to see if you would respond to being poked with a rounded needle. There was a loud pop from the direction of the TV that made us both jump up. We looked to see it was smoking a bit. When the maintenance men removed it from the mount, the back fell off. The tube was the only component that hadn’t melted, the same as the other two TVs. Someone mention it appeared that a power surge hit the TVs. They moved you to this room after removing the electronic devices.”
“Sorry son, but you are not permitted a TV until they can find out why they keep going on the fritz when you are in the room with them,” dad told me.
My pediatrician interrupted them to ask me, “No solid food for you, David, but do you think you could try some broth? We wish to remove the feeding tube as soon as possible. Your catheter is scheduled to be changed out tomorrow. I will modify the orders not to insert a new one for the time being. Unless you slip back into a coma, we will remove the feeding tube port in a few days. You know the drill. We need you up and walking as soon as possible. There is no escaping your butt being on display, but I will save you the indignity of carrying around a bag of your urine.”
You won’t get any complaints from me about taking the catheter out. It hurts like hell to get hard when I have one.
Sometime later, a nurse brought me this yellowish liquid she promised was chicken broth.
About an hour later, a nurse came in with some yellowish liquid she promised me was chicken broth. It tasted like it was just warm water to me.
Oh just quit complaining. It is filling me up with something warm. I hope I don’t have to eat the nasty glop from when I got my tonsils out.
When I was barely able to keep my eyes open, my parents each gave me a big hug and headed home.
I woke up to see it was dark outside. Even with the lights in the room off, the bit of light coming in through the door and blinds made it look like the lights were on through the goggles. I turned toward a chair expecting to find my mother. Instead, I found a man wearing sunglasses that I didn’t recognize.
“Good,” he said quietly. “The nurses have finished their rounds and will not return for at least two hours. We have a lot to discuss. You can call me Arthur...”
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