Fever

Our hero wakes up in an ICU unit with some desirable mental powers and decides to try to help some people have better lives. He does relieve some loneliness. Obviously, it is all fiction (damn), and everyone is over 18. Votes and comments welcome. Signed comments, public or private will be acknowledged. Enjoy. Jb7

*

Meg Reynolds was near despair. She watched her only son, Kirk, as he lay comatose in the ICU bed, his head wrapped in plastic tubing carrying cold water around his skull in an attempt to reduce the 105 degree fever which had been attacking his brain for the past week. Doctors were totally stymied, unable to account for the fever, and for the weird temperature pattern in Kirk's body.

Anal and axillary temperature readings were normal. Oral, aural, and infra red readings of the face and skull were all at or above 104. They had been unable to identify the agent causing the fevers; antibiotics, antivirals, antifungals, had all been tried and failed. CAT, PET, and MRI scans had proved unremarkable in attempting to identify or locate the source of the infection, if that is what it was.

Ten days ago, the 25 year old Psychology doctoral candidate had been at work at his clinical internship site, the local state hospital for the mentally ill. One of the patients, on lunch duty washing dishes, had started throwing water around the kitchen. Kirk had gone in to intercede and slipped on the wet floor, hitting his head on the floor. Momentarily stunned, he laid on the floor until his head cleared. The patient, copying what he had seen in the movies, had thrown a basin of dirty dishwater in his face.

Two days later, Kirk had awoken with a raging headache, barely able to lift his head from his pillow. That afternoon, he had collapsed at work and the fever had started.

Meg saw the attending physician approaching in the reflection in the window. As she drew near, Meg turned to greet her. "Dr. Hsu, good morning. How is Kirk doing?"

"Good morning, Mrs Reynolds. All I can say is he's no worse, But, he's also no better. The cooling tubes don't seem to be helping the way we wanted. I can't say they're helping, but, since we applied them, the temperature climb has stopped. May I ask you to step into my office? We need to discuss his prognosis."

In the sparsely furnished office, Dr. Hsu had Meg sit and offered her a cup of coffee, then asked if there was anyone else she would like present. Meg shook her head, explaining she was a widow, and Kirk, an only child. The doctor started by expressing her personal, and her team's, frustration and puzzlement at Kirk's situation.

The danger of exposure to such a high temperature for such an extended period, usually, was death. They considered the fact he was still alive, and responding to pain stimuli, a miracle. If he continued with such a high fever, Meg had to be prepared for a severe decline in ability.

That being said, the doctor went on, the team had identified a possible treatment. One that was totally off protocol. A new, powerful radioisotope was being used with some success in treating cancerous tumors, lymphoma and bacterial encephalitis in lab animals.

It might, the doctor said, emphasizing might, offer some hope. Except for the unusual temperature distribution, Kirk's symptoms technically qualified as encephalitis. By inserting small amounts of the isotope into his skull, they might be able to kill whatever agent was causing the fever.

"How would you place the isotope; would it require surgery?" asked Meg.

"No, we would be able to insert it into the sinus cavity; we would place three minuscule amounts and use adhesive to secure them; one near each outer edge and one centrally placed.."

"Would there be any side effects, if it worked?"

"It's impossible to predict. We have no idea in what condition Kirk is going to come out of this. In the lab animals, side effects have tended to be species specific, i.e., the rats all had similar effects, rabbits, different side effects from the rats, but among the rabbits, they were similar. Same with the monkeys, different from the rats and rabbits, but among the monkeys, similar effects. I can say, they all appeared to be somatic, physical, and none seemed to be particularly debilitating or incapacitating."

"When?"

"If we have your permission, it can be done by lunchtime." Meg nodded. "I'll get things started," said Dr. Hsu, standing up.

The isotope had been placed without moving Kirk from his isolation cubicle. An hour later, unexpectedly, in spite of the cooling coils, his temperature began to rise precipitously, leveling off at 107.5, where it remained for 36 hours, then rapidly declined to normal. Kirk, however, remained comatose. In the absence of any fever, after 24 hours he was removed from isolation and placed in a 'normal' ICU bed.

Tiffany Williams, a 30 year old medical technician, was one of a dozen techs who regularly worked in the ICU. Although the patient load wasn't huge, it was considered hard duty. On a normal medical floor, vitals were taken once a shift, unless ordered more frequently.

In the ICU, in spite of the constant monitoring, they were taken by hand every hour. In addition, there were several other observations she had to make, such as level of alertness, depth of breathing, eyes open or closed, was patient skin hot, cold, dry, clammy, was there any kind of response when their name was called.

She was reviewing her shift orders for the evening when she saw them wheeling the white boy with the crazy fever out of isolation to room 15. She picked up his chart to see if anything special had been ordered for him. At the top of the list, highlighted, was a bath and lotion rub. She smiled; that was one of the favorite parts of her job. She was a firm believer in the healing power of simple human contact.

Tiffany finished her review and made sure her cart was stocked and powered up. Since the order for the bath for the white boy had been highlighted, it meant that it was important. She could understand, that high a fever for that long, his skin was probably peeling off in sheets. She gathered the supplies and paraphernalia she would need and entered his cubicle, pulling the curtain to maintain his privacy and modesty.

She folded down the blanket and sheet to his hips and proceeded to wash and dry his torso. Covering his chest, she then did the same for his legs, inadvertently brushing his genitals. To her, it was usually one of the casual contacts common between nurse and patient. This time, the result caused her to do a double take.

Kirk responded to the light brush with a significant surge in his member. It wasn't totally erect, but it had easily doubled in length, she thought. "Wow, I'll have to remember to report this," she was thinking when she became aware of a hand on the back of her thigh, sliding up toward her buttocks.

She tried to look down to see who was touching her. "Hold still," she heard someone say. The hand continued up her leg, to the apex of the vee her thighs formed. She felt it rub over her perianal area and continue to the area of prominence where it stopped, the fingers of the hand pushing into the crack, wriggling as if searching for something. "Nice ass," came the voice again. "What's your name?"

"Tiffany," she replied aloud.

"Shhh. Don't talk, just think. I'll hear you."

Tiffany then realized she was hearing the voice in her head. A bolt of fright went through her, nearly causing her to wet herself. The voice laughed. "Easy, Tiffany, there's nothing to be frightened of. Nobody's going to hurt you. What's next on your agenda with Kirk here?"

"I have to wash his genital area. Can you remove your hand so I can work?"

The hand moved lower, sliding between her thighs, grazing her labia through her slacks. She gasped at the caress, aware of the heat from the hand. A very low, soft moan escaped her lips. "Hmm," came the voice, "liked that, huh?" Embarrassed, she nodded slightly.

She folded Kirk's blanket down to his knees, not looking at him. She was half turned away from him, facing the foot of the bed. The hand was still firmly planted up against her pussy lips, causing mini jolts of pleasure to pulse through her. She felt her nipples harden, her lady, open and moisten. She was afraid the hand could feel the heat and moisture through her clothes.

When she had her washcloth prepared, she turned back to Kirk and gasped. Fully erect, standing upright like a church spire, his eight inch member beckoned to her. Her empty hand reached out to hold and caress the phallic shaft. While she stroked Kirk, the hand turned to cup her vulva.

"Take off your clothes," the voice commanded. As if in a trance, she complied, revealing a compact latte-chocolate colored body, with full globular B -sized breasts capped with dark brown erect nipples, a landing strip drawing the observer's eye to her quim.

Once her panties were off, she needed no further instruction. She climbed on the bed and straddled Kirk, sinking onto his shaft. "What if someone comes in?" she thought.

"Noone is going to disturb us tonight." Tiffany looked at Kirk's face and gasped. His bright blue eyes were open, and he was smiling.

"OhmiGod! You're awake! I have to tell the doctor!"

"No, you don't, not tonight. Tonight you have to fuck me, after you take my vital signs. We'll do this again, right?"

As she hit bottom on his shaft, Tiffany nodded, agreeing with Kirk. She knew it was wrong, and could cost her her job, but something was telling her she had to comply. She began moving on the shaft occupying her sheath. Kirk responded with reciprocal thrusts, quickly stimulating the young woman to an orgasm.

She fell forward onto his chest, mashing her breasts against him. He groaned, thrusting as deeply into her as he could. She felt his seed wash her sheath's walls and sighed contentedly. "Yes, we'll do this again," she murmured, "and again, and..."

A playful slap on the rump, brought her back to reality. She sighed, and climbed off the bed. She was about to thank Kirk when she saw his eyes had closed and all the monitors indicated he was still in his comatose state.

Each hour, Tiffany had gone in to take his vital signs. She had shaken him and called his name, with no response. She had even gone so far as to reach under his sheet and shake and stroke his penis, to no avail. For some reason, when it came time for the last readings on her shift, she started with room sixteen and proceeded away from Kirk's room. This meant that his would be the last reading she took that hour.

When she entered his cubicle, she closed the curtain. When she approached his bed, she saw he had kicked his covers off and was aroused. She quickly took the measurements she needed, and without further instruction, quickly stripped off her slacks and panties. Climbing on the bed, she bent down and kissed her patient on his lips, and was pleasantly surprised when he responded. "Turn around," came the command. "I want to taste you."

"Uh, I haven't had a chance to clean myself since..."

"That's my concern, not yours, Tiffany. You just attend to the part of me trying to imitate the Washington Monument."

She laughed. "Yessir," she replied and tried to swallow the imitator whole. She soon learned the owner of the cock in her mouth was skilled at cunnilingus. He quickly was able to copy her rhythm. When she licked his crown, he repaid her with tongue caresses to her pleasure bud.

Initially, attempts to swallow him earned her tongue thrusts into her vaginal sheath, while later ones, as she approached her climax, resulted in Kirk sucking her clit, its hood, and her clitoral shaft into his mouth and lashing it with his tongue. This was the action that finally drove her to orgasm.

She had Kirk deep within her throat when it hit. She was unable to move anything but her hips, which she smeared all over his face until he finally released her, after she had showered him with her cum.

She lay there, panting from her climax, his cock still imbedded in her throat. She got back up on her knees and started to back off his rod. Just as she was about to let him slip from her lips, she was impelled to begin licking the head. Her tongue began swirling around it, playing along the ridge, finding the sensitive spot on the underside. Something pressed her head back down. Just before Kirk reached the back of her throat, t he pressure disappeared and she felt another pressure to withdraw.

The pattern was repeated twice, then she continued on her own, increasing her speed and suction power. In a very few minutes, she felt Kirk thrust his hips upward, and then he was filling her mouth with his sweet salty treat. She turned around to share it with him, finding his eyes open. Kirk eagerly shared her treat, and she tasted her residue on his lips. She grinned and kissed him again, saying thank you. This time she heard him say "you're welcome, and thank you," before he closed down.

Tiffany knew she should report something about Kirk's actions tonight, but to admit to having sex with a patient could not only get her fired, but also imprisoned. As she reviewed the night with Kirk, she remembered his initial response when she was washing him. That would be enough to alert the medical team there was some improvement.

When she was entering the observation, the charge nurse, Joyce, asked her she was writing. Tiffany explained, to the amusement of the older woman.

"You mean you brushed him with the back of your hand and it just leapt up there?"

"No, there was just a surge I could see under the sheet. When I folded it back to wash him, it was laying there, flaccid."

Joyce turned her head, ostensibly, to look at the cubicle being discussed, but mainly to hide her licking her lips as she asked, "Is he very big?"

Without thinking about the appropriateness of the question or her answer, Tiffany answered, "What I saw was about six inches and it wasn't even beginning to stand up."

Joyce was a forty-something tall brunette, married for twenty-five years to a man with a dick just over five inches long. After a hard fuck and massive orgasm for Joyce, he might stretch out to six inches, but then it was so skinny, it didn't do a lot for her.

Like Tiffany, the bath and lotion rub was her favorite part of the job, but for different reasons. For Tiffany, she believed it helped the healing process. Joyce liked to see the variety in male genitals, and to fondle them.

She had heard her mother and her friends and co-workers, all nurses, discuss the men who were on their floors. Their variety in shape and size, especially when erect. She heard them talk about how they would tease the men, bending over them to show them some cleavage, or brush against them. A favorite ploy was to drop supplies on the bed between their legs. Then when they reached for tape or gauze, they would brush their hands or fingers against the patient's penis or sac.

Tonight, she had drawn a double shift. Since the patient count for the unit was down, and she was the on-coming charge nurse, the end of shift paperwork was done in less time than it takes to tell. She let Tiffany go a few minutes early since all the vitals were up to date.

Joyce watched the door swing shut behind the black woman as she drew the curtain on cubicle 15. She walked to the bed and started to draw the sheet and blanket down when she felt a hand slip under the rear of her uniform skirt. She gasped.

"Quiet!" came the command. The hand drew her nearer to the head of the bed. Then she felt it slip under her panties and a finger slide into her moist opening. It was almost too much for the tall nurse. She realized she was on the edge of coming.

Whoever was in her head must have realized it, too, for, without warning, a thumb was thrust into her anus, tripping her climax. She fell forward on the bed, her face coming into contact with a very erect, very large, by her standards, cock,

"How you doing, Joyce?"

"Wha...Who are you?" she gasped, barely able to catch her breath.

"I'm the guy with his hand in your pussy, whose cock you're laying on."

She glanced at his face, peaceful in repose. At the monitors, all the same as they had been, all day. "How..."

"I don't know, and I'm not going to sweat it for a while. I want to fuck you, but right now, I'm too tired. Rounds are over around ten this morning, right?" Joyce nodded. "After that, come in to give me a bath. Don't worry about anything else. There won't be any surprises today." He wiggled his thumb, making her moan. "You will come to me, won't you?" She nodded.

For nearly half of the ICU patients, the discussion during rounds consisted of "The patient had responded to treatment as expected and desired. They are ready to be transferred back to their medical floor." For the others, except Kirk, "The patient is stable and responding to the treatment. They need close monitoring for another 24-, or 48-hour period."

The discussion about Kirk continued to focus on finding a cause for his condition, a search Dr. Hsu considered pointless since none of the medications designed to nullify invasive organisms had been effective. Her approach was to manage the symptoms and let the body heal itself.

While the discussion went on around her, she flipped through Kirk's chart, and saw the entry by the technician about an unusual response by the patient. She swore to herself when the nature of the response was not described. She dismissed rounds and went to talk to the nurse.

"Excuse me, Nurse, Joyce." she started, remembering a tad late about recognizing the nurses as fellow professionals instead of underlings. "This entry in the chart of the patient in 15. What kind of response? Why wasn't it described?"

"The note by Tiffany?" The doctor nodded.

"Was she the tech last night?"

"Yes. I asked her about it. She said she couldn't really describe it, because she didn't really see it. When she was washing him, the back of her hand brushed against his genitals. She said she saw a movement under his sheet and, when she folded it back to wash him, his penis was about twice as long as when he was in isolation, still flaccid." The doctor's eyebrows went up.

"Has he been bathed today?" Joyce shook her head no. "I want you to try to recreate the incident, without his sheet covering the, ah, area of interest. Can you do that? I know it comes close to abuse, but it is the first normal sign we've seen from the young man." Joyce nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was being ordered to try to arouse Kirk. "Get your supplies; I'll meet you by the bed."

In the cubicle, Dr. Hsu folded Kirk's bedclothes to the foot of his bed, leaving his whole body exposed. She examined his uncircumcised member. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around it, measuring it. Discounting the foreskin, there was about two and a half inches of penis in her hand. Unconsciously, she gave it a couple of soft squeezes, resulting in a slight surge of warmth in her hand.

She shook her head, trying to clear it to focus on the task at hand. She glanced at her hand, shocked to see that Kirk's manhood was now protruding from her hand, a growth of at least an inch and a half. Just as that fact registered, Joyce came through the curtain and saw the Chinese woman apparently fondling the comatose patient.

Not knowing why, she thought, "Are you okay?"

The voice responded, "Yeah, the doc is a strange mix of professional and personal curiosity, concern, and hunger. You two are here to check on Tiffany's strange response? Start my bath by washing my prick. Be gentle, please," the voice laughed.

Joyce smiled as she sat the basin between his legs. "Excuse me, doctor. I'll start with his genitals to see if we get any reaction. If not, then I'll try again at the end."