Nursenapped
The wide-spread use of nanobiotic symbiotes has rather reduced the need for traditional hospitals. With the exception of trauma (where the increases in technology have merely prompted people to grow more creative in how they injury themselves) all procedures are now elective and far more likely to involve getting a shiny new set of genitals than having the malfunctioning parts of ones body cut out (or on severe cases, off).
Despite all that, the nurse still occupies a very special place within the psyche of most hospital-goers and they consistently top the chart of ‘public service worker I’d most like fuck’. Personally, I find the traditional uniform to be somewhat frumpy... although nothing that a little latex wouldn’t cure.
Everyone knew ‘Bob’. Bob the porter, Weird Bob, Creepy Bob. Of course, his name wasn’t really Bob. None of us knew what his real name was. The printing on his NHS badge was simply to faded and no one wanted to start up a conversation with him.
So, somehow, someone decided on ‘Bob’ and it stuck.
Personally I’d have gone with ‘Igor’, he just had that look about him. One wonky eyeball and a stooped gait. Actually, it was that eyeball that freaked me out more than anything. You could never tell where he was looking. I mean, I know that eye was supposed to be blind, but every now and then I’d swear I caught it looking at me.
Carol was late. The two of us had agreed to meet up after work for a drink and, it really wasn’t like my ‘oppo’ to miss out on the chance of a glass of Chardonnay or three.
Each shift was divided into two teams, and Carol was my opposite number. I’d just spent a gruelling seven-hour stint assisting while some Amazon got her wetware upgraded. That meant I’d been given the chance to get all tired and sweaty without any of the kudos the actual surgeons were given.
So, perhaps I was a little bit more impatient that usual. It was just that all day I’d been fantasising about something cold, dry and very alcoholic.
Whatever the reason, I got fed up waiting and went to hunt Carol down.
That’s when I ran into Bob. He was coming out of the scrub room, wheeling one of those laundry bins. You know the kind I mean? Basically four wheeled legs arranged in a circle and filled with a big canvas bag.
I try to peer around him and through the open door, but he’s a big lad and we ended up doing that embarrassed dance you have to learn before you’re genuinely recognised as one of the socially awkward.
“Oh,” he muttered, while his eyes dwelt on my assets. “Sorry, nearly finished clearing away.”
“Hey,” I tried, in lieu of conversation. “Have you seen Sister Danning?”
Bob twisted his head to look at me, that mad eye of his making his expression comical. A grin crept across his face. It was the most animated I could remember seeing him and for some reason that was enough to make me extremely nervous.
“You’re looking for Carol?”
That wasn’t what I was expecting. I mean, Carol really didn’t seem the type to be on first-name terms with Bob.
“I am. Do you know where she is?”
“Yes, Katherine,” he answered, stretching to his full height. “She’s in this basket, all packaged up and ready for transport.”
Nursenapping as it became known, was one of the more popular deviances of the mid-Naughties. Speculative anthropervologists attribute this at least in part to the decision in 2010 of the newly elected [information deleted to avoid temporal paradox] party to slash NHS budgets by reducing the material used to make nurses’ uniforms by 75%.
Most nursing colleges adapted to this by simply increasing the size of each year’s intake (and recalculating the numbers predicted to ‘drop out’ accordingly).
And, naturally, Registered Nurses are now offered abduction insurance as a matter of course (which includes secure storage of their personality matrices, in case of mental reprogramming).
Still, despite all that, it does suck to be a nurse... sometimes literally.
With a flourish that might’ve put a professional magician to shame, Bob whipped back the top layer of laundry. I was still trying figure out whether this was just an epic fail in terms of humour, but one glance at the contents of his basket told me everything I needed to know (and more).
I didn’t recognise Carol at first, all the straps and buckles made it pretty difficult. Even when I caught sight of the ill-advised butterfly tattoo gracing my friend’s ankle I still couldn’t quite get past the fact that she looked more like some kind of sexualised thing than the bubbly young woman I knew.
Shock stunned my brain, while I tried to move beyond the sense of ‘oh shit’ that had a hold of me.
“Katherine,” Bob prompted.
He was holding a spraycan and, when I looked back up, I got a face full of whatever it contained. Gasping wasn’t sensible, but it was a predictable enough reaction I’m sure and, within the space of a couple of seconds, everything went all squiggly.
Bob grinned, showing pearly whites that swam with all the colours of the rainbow.
“Ooooh,” I commented.
My fear took a back seat to the psychedelia, while I pointed and giggled. Little flashes of heat peppered my face and it took forever for me to realise that Bob had given me another dose. The mist tasted of salt and made my tongue buzz.
Bob’s hands felt rough against my tingling skin. His strength was all too obvious but I could sense the gentleness in his thick fingers as they began to loosen my uniform. I think I might’ve groaned when he popped open the last button. Finally released from the crush of starched NHS cotton my chest had room to breath.
Knees quivering, I just stood there, letting this strange man run his over-sized hands over my body. And my goodness, but didn’t it feel good? I mean I knew it was bad but it just felt so right and all the while he was whispering little teases so softly I had to strain to hear.
Not that I was concentrating on his running commentary mind you. Oh no, I was only paying attention to his touch and this sparkles of electricity it coaxed from my flesh as he peeled me out of my uniform.
And please, be in no doubt that I was being very, very attentive as far as that was concerned.
“And,” his voice suddenly interrupted that train of thought. “Now you’re going to have a little sleep, Katherine. But don’t worry, I’ll be watching over you and, ever better, when you wake up, it will be time to start your training.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. Not that it mattered. I just wanted to go on feeling this soft and squishy.
“That’s right,” Bob said and I knew he was smiling. “Good girl, sleep now, Katherine, sleep for me.”
The next thing I knew I was waking up to the sounds of enthusiastic dick-sucking. My head was still cloudy from whatever Bob had hit me with and the rest of my body was demanding attention. Yep, despite being drugged, stripped, manhandled and kidnapped, I was horny as hell.
Actually, now I come to think about I think you could probably replace ‘despite’ in that last sentence with ‘because’.
The straps made everything more difficult. I counted eight of thin leather belts, though I’m willing to bet I’d still missed at least one. Part of the problem was that I couldn’t see or even feel my arms. Bob had obviously decided that my circulation wasn’t his primary concern and, from the way they were feeling, I guessed my arms were that lovely, dusky purple colour that all true bondage aficionados find so appealing.
But, with my arms trapped behind my back, and then secured in place with another three straps that circled my chest and belly, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realise I wasn’t going anywhere. Just to be on the safe side, Bob had wrapped another three bands around my legs, although I was pretty sure that was just showing off.
Still the sound of someone frantically gobbling continued. I looked up, stretched to see what was occurring and was confronted with a pale, though clearly toned pair of buttocks (which, in my weakened condition, looked absolutely scrummy).
Bob had avoided the indignity of having his trousers pooled around his ankles. Disturbingly he had also left his socks on... but give the guy his due, at least they were matching. My sharp analytical mind went for a brief siesta as my eyes moved upwards and rediscovered the relentless thrust of his arse.
Does the phrase, ‘buns of steel’ ring any bells?
Carol, I realised belatedly, had been locked into some kind of evil gynaecologist’s chair. Her body had been stretched back, arms and legs stiffly held as though she was in the middle of a set of star jumps.
I couldn’t make out her face, it was obscured by Bob... but her voice was coming through loud and proud, which is more or less the condition I assumed Bob had adopted as he rammed what I’m going to call ‘Bob Jr’ into my friend’s talented throat.
She was making this weird gargling noise and he was grunting. The sounds seemed to bounce back and forth between them, gaining speed and volume as Bob surged toward his inevitable climax. Meanwhile, I was cursing the tight straps. Partly because I knew I was in trouble and wanted to escape, but mostly because they were stopping me from getting myself off.
The silence was suddenly deafening. Bob flung back his head and lunged, his muscles doing the most wonderful things to that studly arse. I could hear Carol half choking, but had no doubt that she was enjoying the fuck out of herself and then, with an oddly subdued gasp, Bob was cumming.
I watched, stunned. I watched, open mouthed. I just watched as he hammered his crotch into Carol’s face. Watching the rippling flesh. Watching the way his body shuddered in relief. And listening to the frenzied gulping sounds coming from my friend’s throat.
He turned, and I assumed I’d probably failed to keep all those excited sounds under wraps. I think he was smiling, but my eyes were draw down before his expression could register. I really, really wanted to see.
And, it turned out, that Bob was packing.
“Good god!” I realised. “The lunchbox has landed!
“Welcome back, Katherine,” Bob smiled, while I could only watch his deflating dick swing slowly back and forth. “Did you enjoy your rest?”
A thin strand of cum dangled precariously from the tip of his manhood, slowly stretching as he moved closer. My tongue felt very rough as it scraped over my lips, but I simply couldn’t look away.
“You and Carol can swap places in a moment,” he suggested, with just a note of smugness. “Or would you prefer it if we forgot the foreplay and I just got on with fucking your brains out?”
“What?” I snapped, suddenly angry enough to forget the crushing weight of my arousal.
Bob laughed and slid his fingers down the length of his shaft. The journey seemed to take forever and even the anger couldn’t keep my eyes from following. Very carefully he swept away the long cord of cum.
“They let me take one or two,” he explained, reached down to caress my cheek. “Only one or two from each intake. Just for a year or so. It’s one of the perks of my job. And, in return, I let them share in the fruits of my labour.”
All my carefully chosen insults seemed to crumble and I was left staring up at him, dumbfounded. His fingers were sticky against my skin, but the thought of being marked with his juices didn’t revolt me.
“I wasn’t joking before,” Bob continued. “Or boasting. I really am going to fuck your brains out. Both of you... but don’t worry. It’ll be fun and it’s not as though there’s anything you can do to stop me.”
Reflexively I licked my lips, tasting the same salty buzz as before. Immediately my head was swimming once more, my world a smeared stain of random colour.
Something... something a lot like a big juicy dick pressed against my lips and I had no qualms about letting it in. The hot, salty rush hit me like a ton of bricks. I was milking Bob’s dick for all I was work, feeling him twitching as I tried to coax a little more action out of the old fella.
All too soon he pulled away, leaving me rooting around in a desperate hunt for more. Then the tightness began to ease, letting the blood flow back into my unbound limbs. Pain cut through the dizzying fog, making me moan weakly, but never quite reaching the intensity required to snap me out of my mental haze.
“What do you want, Katherine?” he asked, while the softest of pressure eased my knees apart.
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t even move. But it didn’t matter, my body was pretty clear about what it wanted, what it needed. And it was telegraphing that desire loudly enough for anyone to get the gist.
Bob’s hand was a smooth pressure sliding down over my belly. His fingers massaged my mound, pressing into the bones of my pelvis and making me lift my arse in a vain attempt to get what I wanted.
“Oh dear,” he chuckled. “Lost for words, Katherine?”
I was floating or flying or something. Bob lifted me in his powerful arms and I just lolled helplessly making weak, pathetic noises. Immovable metal snapped around my limbs, stretching my body and completing the feeling of exposure.
It was too much. I couldn’t move a muscle, couldn’t even twitch and, worst still, it was only going to get harder.
“Please!” I scream, raw desire forcing the words past my dry lips. “Please...”
“Please?” Bob wondered. His hands roamed at will over my skin and I could feel his cock stroking over my pussy. “Come on, you can do better than that.”
“Fuck!” I practically howled.
“Good enough,” he laughed and just like that I was full of Bob.
Filled to brim. And he kept on pumping, bringing a lump to my throat as he hammered at my sex.
I leaned back into the metal embrace and clenched, squeezing and crushing his big, slippery dick. It really didn’t matter what I did, not that ever stopped me from trying, and milking Bob’s cock with the only muscles I could still control at least let me feel like I was doing something.
His hands were hot against my flesh. He took hold of my backside with a grip of steel, his fingers probed my arse, while I lay there, bucking and lurching.
Everything was getting swirly again and that made it feel even better. Yummy twinges answered Bob’s every thrust. I was left moaning and dribbling, unable to influence anything that was happening, just a helpless passenger along for the ride of her life.
It was hard to think. Well, it was hard to think about anything except cumming and just how good that was going to feel. I didn’t care that Bob was going to steal my mind, just so long as this whirling, sticky, yumminess could continue.
Bob tensed, grinding his cock into me, while he did so.
And, the next thing I knew, we were both lost in orgasm. In fact, I was so lost... for a while at least my brain stopped working.
When I came back, I was back in the straps. Only this time Bob had added the mother of all vibes to my bondage. The mains-powered monstrosity had me thoroughly plugged and seemed to have been set to a level that left me perpetually frustrated.
Carol was having a whale of a time of course. I could hear her getting a damn good seeing to, which naturally made things even more unbearable.
All the whirly, swirly goodness in the world wasn’t going to get me what I wanted.
“Oh hush now, Katherine,” Bob grunted. “You’ve had your turn.”
Which told me, I guess. I pressed my lips together and tried to keep quiet (barely registering how quickly I leapt to do what I was told).
The vibe hummed happily between my pussy lips and I felt the scales fall from my eyes.
Carol came noisily and very messily, while I listened avidly to her moans of pleasure. I licked my lips again, tasting master’s seed and somehow knew that my plugged pussy still swirled with the aftermath of our sex.
It was getting harder and harder to think. But that was a good thing. I sighed, flopping back onto the floor of master’s lab and waiting for the vibe to lull me back down into sexual oblivion. I’m pretty sure that I was still wearing that same goofy grin as I slowly slipped away.
Master had promised to fuck my brains out, and it seemed he was a man of his word.