Otherworld

Chapter One

Ever tried to wake up, and found your body fighting you the whole time? Almost like you were trying to push through a wall made of pudding. That’s how I felt. Like something was trying to keep me asleep. Slowly I pushed away the curtains of blackness, and finally opened my eyes.

I was in a hospital room. What’s more, I hurt.

I tried to remember what I had done, where I had been, what I had been doing, that might have caused me to land in the hospital. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember anything. The last thing I remembered was lying down to go to bed. On a Wednesday night. At nine. So, how the hell did I end up here?

I slowly turned my head to one side, trying to take stock of my predicament. Part of the pain was in my neck that was for sure. Just turning it sent stabs of hot pain down my shoulders and up into my scalp. I grimaced, and kept turning. There, next to the bed, was an IV stand, with a blue box attached to it. I’d been in the hospital before, and knew what an infusion pump was. I slowly moved my left hand, and them my right, looking for what I knew must be there. Ah, there it was something cylindrical. I wrapped my fingers around it, and jabbed my thumb into the end. Within seconds, a coldness entered my arm, and a second later sweet euphoria introduced itself. I thought it would be a minute dose, but the pump kept humming, and the coldness stayed in my arm, and my head got heavier. The humming stopped, and it was all I could do to turn my head back to its starting position. I noted, however, that the maneuver no longer hurt.

I later surmised that activating the pump had triggered an alarm, for it was only seconds after I got dosed that a nurse entered the room. I knew it was a nurse, for she wore a traditional nurse’s uniform, though the style reminded me more of what my mother used to wear back in the 1970’s than what they were wearing in the first part of the twenty-first century. She walked up to my bed, leaned over and smiled at me, long strands of honey-blond hair cascading down from her nurse’s hat. I felt something weird, but I wasn’t sure of it was love, lust, or whatever. Before I could decide, she spoke.

“Hello, Mike, how are you?” Hmm, she knew my name. “I’m sure you’re very confused, as well as in a great deal of discomfort.” Nurses never used the word ‘hurt’, they always said ‘discomfort’. Hmmm. “Let me explain a few things, though I doubt you’ll absorb everything all at once. You are in a place we call ‘Otherworld’. You’ve heard of science fiction stories of civilizations where there are no women that capture females to take back to their world? Well, this is a place like that, only the other way around. Because of a biological weapon that was released a long, long time ago, there are very few men born here, and the ones that are born are sterile. Therefore, to perpetuate society, we have to bring in men.”

Though my mouth seemed filled with peanut butter and cotton, I managed to voice what I thought was a brilliant observation. “Bullshit.”

The nurse smiled. “That’s almost exactly what every man says when they are brought here, but it’s true.”

“What country are we in?” Not quite as brilliant, but I was proud of it nonetheless.

“Not another country, another world. Actually, the same world, but a parallel universe. All the continents you know exist here, but the civilization advanced differently. For the past seven hundred years we have existed only by being able to bring males from your universe to ours.”

“So is that why I hurt? Because you brought me here?” Scotty might be upset that his transporter is somewhat less than painless.

“No, and yes. Getting you here caused you no harm. The reason you are uncomfortable was the extraction process.”

I didn’t say anything, but the look on my face must have spoken volumes. She picked up a large mirror from a table, and then pulled down the sheets, holding the mirror so that I could see my lower abdomen.

There were three – not one, not two, but THREE – tubes exiting my penis. I could see fluids going into my body through one of them, and fluid coming out in another. The third appeared to be a standard catheter, and the clear tubing it was connected to had a slow procession of dark yellow fluid in it. I moved my hand over and gingerly examined all those parts I could see. Yep, they were sore too, even through the pain medicine.

“You see, we need men for fertilization, but we’ve moved away from what you would consider normal ways of doing it. Where normal sexual intercourse would result in you expelling millions of sperm cells, with only a one-in-five chance of fertilization under the best of conditions, we have perfected a process whereby we can achieve a ninety-four percent success rate of fertilization using only four sperm cells. This in-vitro process is carried out under the most sterile conditions, and to insure this high success rate, the sperm must be collected under equally-sterile conditions. When you were brought here, you were unconscious, and you were kept that way throughout the harvesting procedure. Unfortunately, the procedure requires the use of electric muscle stimulation, and lasts for approximately forty hours. We try to restrain donors, and keep them sedated to prevent injury, but invariably, they suffer from sever muscle strains over almost their entire body. Which is why you are somewhat uncomfortable right now.”

I looked from her to the three tubes, and back to her, with a horrified look on my face. “Don’t worry, two of those will be removed tomorrow, and the catheter a few days after that. You will be asleep for the procedure, so you won’t feel a thing.” She then smiled broadly. “After that, a week or two of rest, and you will have free reign.”

My mouth was starting to feel numb from the medication, but I managed a few more words. “Free reign for what?”

Her smiled changed from glee to genuine warmth. “As a reward for donating, you will have free reign in our society for as long as the donation lasts, at which time you will be given the choice to either donate again, or go back to the time and place where you left your world.” She turned her head slightly and raised an eyebrow. “There are restrictions, of course, but I think you’ll like it.” She pulled the covers back over me, and reached for the infusion pump. She stopped, leaned over and kissed my forehead, then pressed a button on the pump. It started humming again, and she said, “Pleasant dreams.”

Actually, I didn’t dream, but I did wake up two days later, feeling not nearly as sore, though still a bit uncomfortable. The same nurse returned, and I learned her name was Lorie. I also learned that it had been over a week since I had arrived at this place. Within a day, the IV was removed, though not before the catheter, and I got an extra burst of painkiller as it was removed. It really didn’t hurt all that much, though the first time I urinated after it was out, I thought I was gonna die.

I also learned some of the rules for Otherworld. As a donor, I literally had free reign to come and go as I pleased, with an official residence in this city, maintained by a small staff. I could ask for just about anything, and go anywhere I wanted. Though this society had perfected a process of initiating pregnancy that involved only a laboratory, there were some women who were intent on doing it the old fashioned way, and I was encouraged to oblige them. I could also ask anyone I wanted to spend the night with me, though I could not force them to. I did not have the right to harm anyone, though, I learned, I did have a rare official duty to mete out punishment in some types of criminal cases (it was explained that my predecessor, during his five-year visit, exercised this particular power on only two occasions).

I was also regaled with a brief history of the ten donors who preceded me, with emphasis on what their particular tastes were. A couple were just plain lecherous (one actually got expelled from Otherworld, an extremely rare happenstance), one was into leather, two into serious rubber, and one was into tapioca pudding (literally, he spent most of his time relaxing in a large tub filled with tapioca pudding. The tub was specially built to keep it from spoiling for as long as possible, and with large drains so that the batch could be changed quickly). The point of this, I was told, was to impress on me that almost any behavior was tolerated, and that I should have no inhibitions about what I asked for – I had donated, and therefore was entitled to be treated as a king.

I told them I’d get back to them on that.

The official residence was stately, to say the least. The previous resident had it decorated in the likeness of a sports bar (five bedrooms, three dens and the library), a theme which I indicated I had no interest in. My hosts graciously agreed to renovate the place, and offered to put me up in a luxury hotel during the construction. I asked, rather sheepishly, if I could remain at the hospital, providing of course, I would not be taking up a bed needed for a patient. Lorie, who turned out to be not just my own private nurse, but apparently my guide and secretary, gave me a puzzled look. I proceeded to explain to her the history of my back and neck, with detailed explanations of the injuries and surgeries involved, along with a listing of the symptoms I still suffered from. She was shocked; suddenly realizing how much the “donation” process must have aggravated my problems. I reassured her that I would live, but that, if the facilities weren’t needed for someone else, I would like to try a few things that my doctors back in my world were reluctant to try. I explained what I wanted to try, afraid that she’d really think I was a loon, and saying as much when I finished my speech. She said something to the driver, who headed towards a more built-up part of town.

Lorie said nothing as we drove towards a group of large buildings; she just sat there and looked at me in a strange way. I was beginning to wonder if I had crossed the line in making what I thought was a simple request, and was about to be sent packing back to my own universe. We turned a corner, and drove slowly down a downtown street. It was evening, the air was cool, and people (women, actually, all women) were strolling down the sidewalk. We rolled down the windows, and I turned and looked at them as we passed. Almost immediately, I saw a woman in her early twenties whose long blond hair and long, thin neck were accentuated by the vertical bars and neck ring of a Milwaukee brace. I turned in my seat as we passed, keeping my eyes on her. It was extremely rare to see anyone in a Milwaukee brace anymore, let alone a woman out of her teens. I started to turn back around when another flash of metal caught my eye. Another woman wearing a Milwaukee brace! And this one had a chin pad! I discovered I had turned around in my seat to watch this woman as well. I faced forward again, hoping my host had not spotted what caught my eye. To camouflage my actions, I intentionally turned to watch two other women, one walking on each side of the street, as if I was enjoying seeing all of them (which, in truth, I was, as most all the women walking on this street this evening were stunningly beautiful). There was a flash of metal out of the corner of my eye, and before I could stop myself, I spun around to see yet another woman in a Milwaukee brace. Before I could recover, Lorie spoke up.

“One of the effects of the biological weapon which rendered our society without males was a propensity towards certain medical conditions. The most prevalent of these is spinal curvature, mainly scoliosis. Eighty percent of the population of this world has some sort of spinal curvature. Of that eighty percent, four-fifths responds to non-surgical treatment. Two thirds of the population of this world will use some form of spinal brace sometime in their lifetime. Some, like those you were looking at, wear one long into their adult years. Others are treated with traction, and casting.” She pointed to the right side of the car, and walking down the sidewalk was a woman who was encased in a pink fiberglass cast from her hips up to the top of her head. The woman she was walking with was in a Milwaukee brace, this one with a chin pad. Women passing them gave them little special notice. “So, you see, what you asked for wasn’t really all that spectacular.” I was still looking out the window, and didn’t see her reach over. Suddenly I felt her hand clamp down on my crotch, and the erection which I hoped would not be noticed was plainly felt by my host. I looked down, and then up at her. Now I knew I would be expelled, but that thought faded as I saw her expression. She leaned over and kissed my sweetly, then sat back and said, “oh yes, you will fit in here nicely.”

Chapter Two

My request to Lorie had been simple – I had asked to be returned to the hospital, and placed in cervical and pelvic traction during the night, and during some resting hours during the day. For those times when I would be ambulatory, I wanted to be fitted with a brace that would support and immobilize my lower back and neck, and possibly to stretch the spine in between. Of course, maintaining this regimen for any particular length of time would result in my muscles atrophying, and so I asked that some physical therapy be included, providing, of course, that it wouldn’t interfere with or prevent any actual patients from receiving the care they needed.

After showing me around the downtown area, Lorie had the driver stop, whereupon she exited the vehicle. “Stay here, please,” she said to me, and then she disappeared into a shop. Several minutes passed, and she returned with a box. “Chocolates,” she stated simply, opening the box for me, then the driver, before taking some herself. “I called the hospital to have a room ready for you.” She said. We drove back quietly munching on the candy, and looking at the businesses, homes and people along the way. I noted several more body casts, and finally quit counting the number of Milwaukee braces I saw. After a bit, I turned to Lorie, and asked a question that was suddenly burning a hole in my mind.

“Have you ever worn a Milwaukee Brace?”

She turned to me with a puzzled look. “A what?”

I indicated a woman standing in a yard as we passed the brace so obvious on her. “Oh, we don’t call it that,” she said. “We call that a ‘Long Bar Brace’. And, no I have never worn one. In fact, I am one of the minority that have never had to have any treatment for spinal problems. Or any other problems, for that matter.”

We returned to the hospital, stopping at the front door. My return apparently had been announced, as a large number of people were standing outside, lining the path to the door. As I exited the car, they started applauding, and I suddenly thought maybe I’d been dropped off at a movie premier. The crowd continued into the hospital, where another nurse walked up to Lorie and whispered something in her ear. Lorie nodded, and we all entered the elevator. “I thought you might like to visit some of the facility you are going to be using, before we settle you into your room.” It wasn’t a smile she shot me; it was a grin, a mischievous grin.

The elevator stopped, and we walked out into the physical therapy area. It was huge, with all kinds of equipment all over the room. There were lots of people, patients and therapists, all going through their routines. Lorie spoke up, admonishing them to continue their work that we intended to only visit, and not interfere. I was impressed by the work they were doing and especially by the large numbers of therapists – in my world, personnel shortages were the norm at just about any hospital. Here, they almost seemed to have an excess of people.

Next I was taken to the brace shop. It seemed more like an assembly line than any orthotic shop I had seen on my world, with several work stations along two walls, most of them with patients being casted or fitted with new braces. There were, I was shown, two private rooms for those who felt uncomfortable being in front of everyone else, but they were rarely used. And my presence didn’t seem to change anything, either – women of different ages apparently had no problem being in the same room as me, in various stages of undress/nakedness. I walked back to the workshop section, and examined several of the braces in progress – probably ninety-five percent were some type of spinal brace. I also got to talking with the chief orthotist, and spent almost an hour discussing my problems, what I was wanting by way of a brace, what I was wanting the brace to do, and the different options. Although I made no decision yet, the orthotist assured me she could create an appliance that would give me the relief I wanted, and yet be absolutely comfortable to wear. They were, unfortunately, too busy to get to me today, but would have an opening tomorrow for my initial casting. Our conversation ended with her giving me a kiss on the cheek. From the reaction of the others in the room, I gathered that was unusual.

We left the shop, and Lorie announced we’d be eating dinner before I was taken to my room. We walked down the hall, made a turn, and wound up in the cafeteria. Again, women were standing along the way, smiling broadly, and welcoming me. I chatted with several as we ate, and mostly the conversation revolved around my life back on my world (was I married, did I have any children [doesn’t matter, you will now!], what my hobbies were, etc, etc). We finished, I thanked everyone, and we headed towards the elevator.

As the doors closed, there were three people in the cab – myself, Lorie, and another nurse named Teresa. I reached for the panel, pressed the ‘Stop” button, and as the elevator lurched to a halt, I turned to them.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

Lorie spoke up. “What do you mean?”

“People are acting differently now than when we left this afternoon. When we left, they were polite, but they kept their distance. Now, everyone seems to be falling over themselves to make me feel welcome. So, I’m going to ask just once more.” To emphasize my point, I leaned down until my nose was almost touching hers. “What’s going on?”

Lorie looked at Teresa, who nodded. Lorie then turned back to me. “I told you earlier about several of the previous donors, and of their ‘eclectic’ tastes. When informed of their freedom, all carried their preferences to the extreme. We expelled one from this world after only two days, for trying to force himself on teenagers and children. The others, while not so bad, all had their particular idiosyncrasies. Your immediate predecessor, besides being a sports fanatic, fancied himself a ‘lady’s man’, even though, in truth, he was more of a slob. In actuality, he preferred to watch as much as anything else, and the less a woman wore, the more he liked it. He enacted decree after decree, dictating how much a woman could, and could not, wear in public. It wasn’t long before he decided that orthopedic appliances spoiled his pastime, and so he decreed that no woman could wear any visible medical appliance while in public. Needless to say, a great many woman found themselves unable to properly treat their spinal curvatures, and they found their conditions worsening. The number of surgeries performed to correct severe spinal curvatures increased by over eight-hundred percent. These women suffered tremendously, all because that man didn’t like to see them wearing their brace.”

Of course, I was horrified. “How long was that decree in effect?”

“Almost four years, until he left, at which time all his decrees became null and void. A lot of those women you saw today only just started using their braces again a few weeks ago. A lot of them are also being placed in full body casts, as a last-ditch effort to avoid surgery – we hope.”

“So, you see, there was always the concern that you would be like your predecessor, and effectively outlaw the non-operative treatment of spinal curvatures. The donors we bring here are randomly picked, so we have no way of knowing who we are getting, or what we are getting ourselves into. When you asked about having a brace made for your back and neck, I hoped that perhaps our greatest worries were at an end. When I discovered that seeing women in braces actually arouses you, I knew they were. When I called to have the hospital arrange for your stay, I let them know what I had discovered.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Even the arousal part?”

“Yes, even the arousal part. You see, while the majority of the population will have no interaction with you, or even want to; there are always some who want to associate with the donors, no matter what their obsession is. And, from what I have seen so far, what turns you on is an ordinary part of our everyday lives. So, as I said earlier, you will fit in nicely here.”

She pressed the Start/Stop button, and we continued upwards. When the door opened, we were on a floor I hadn’t been on yet. The carpet was thick and plush, the walls covered in cloth. We walked a short distance down the hall, and turned to face a door with the number 1508 on it. “I hope you like it,” Lorie said, then opened the door for me.

It could not have been properly called a hospital room – it was more like a luxury suite at a five-star hotel. The room itself was huge, with windows on two walls, overlooking the city on one side, and a river on another. A sofa and table occupied the entrance, with a standard hospital bed behind it. I walked over, and sat on the bed. Lorie looked at me, shook her head and smiled. “That’s for your nurse.” She then took my arm, and walked me around the corner.

When I saw what was there, I stopped, and audibly gulped. The bed here was a huge contraption, with chrome bars all over the place. It appeared to be circular in shape, reminding me of a Circo-Electric bed, only much larger, and much more complex. Three other women were standing around it, all smiling at me. Lorie looked at them, and spoke; “First, we wash.”

Two of them women walked up, took me by the arm, and led me to the bathroom. It seemed almost as large as a standard hospital room, with both a Jacuzzi tub and shower. What appeared to be two toilets were, I found out later, a toilet and a bidet. There were several faucets and hose connections along the wall and I could only guess at their function.

The door was shut, and the two women, whose names I later learned were Janet and Violet, started filling the tub, then removing my clothes. I hadn’t been given a bath by anyone other than myself since I was six, and so was a little nervous, but shortly I began to relax and enjoy myself. Neither of them seemed the least bit conscientious about bathing a naked man, and I decided that, if I was going to be on a world with nothing but women, I should not worry about being naked around them – so long as they didn’t mind, that is. They took their time, and forty minutes later I was clean, scrubbed, washed, and being toweled off by two very lovely ladies. When they finished, I was wrapped in a towel and led out into the room.

Apparently, while I was being bathed, the others had been at work, for a section of bars had been removed from the bed, and placed to one side. As I was led up to the bed, I saw all manners of pads, straps and buckles laid out. I turned to Lorie with an apprehensive look, but she simply took my arm and led me to the side of the bed. “It’s okay,” she said, “I promise you’ll love it.” She took the towel away, and I was eased down into the bed, several sets of arms guiding my arms and legs to where they apparently were supposed to be. I lay back, and found the bed to be extremely comfortable, pads and straps and buckles and all. One of the other women walked up then, and placed a pneumatic syringe against my arm, and pulled the trigger. I felt a slight sting, but nothing more. Lorie spoke up; “Traction is more effective when muscle relaxants are used.” The woman with the syringe then backed away, and Lori, Janet, Violet and Teresa moved in and began fastening buckles.

The head halter was heavy canvas, but lined with lamb’s wool, and in addition to the straps behind my head and under my jaw, a strap was fixed across my forehead. The pelvic harness was very much like a Cotrel pelvic harness I had seen photos of, but was likewise lined with lamb’s wool, and included a lumbar support belt, reinforced with steel stays. Traction boots were applied to my legs, and my legs suspended in slings, raising them up and relieving my lower back of that weight, and also flattening out my lumbar spine. The boots were unusual in that, in addition to providing a grip on my lower legs for skin traction, they encompassed and immobilized my feet, much like a cam walker.

About this time, the drugs started taking effect, for I suddenly felt limp as a noodle. Lorie slid up beside me, and leaned down towards my face. “This is to keep your hands from getting caught in anything, or from fumbling with any of the buckles while you sleep.” With that, she and Teresa each took an arm, and slid them into heavy, molded leather mitts. They extended almost to my elbows, and encased my thumbs and all my fingers in individual pockets. They were, of course, lined on the inside with lamb’s wool, and were buckled securely in place. Attached straps were tied off to the side of the bed, effectively immobilizing me. Lorie and Teresa stepped back, and Violet rolled a cart up next to the bed. Lorie stepped forward again, and picked up a set of hoses from the cart. She started to move them towards my head, and then stopped. She leaned over me yet again, but this time she didn’t stop until her lips touched mine. I don’t know if it was the drugs or the predicament, but the kiss she gave me was, without a doubt, the most electrifying kiss I’d ever received. When she finished, she again raised the hoses, and I found a nasal hood being placed over my nose. The gas flowing out of it was cool and sweet – nitrous oxide. My head started swimming as I heard clanking noises, the traction ropes exerting more pull with each clank – weights were being added to each rope.. When it all stopped, I saw all five women stand around the bed, all smiling. Each bade me good night, one at a time, and left the room. When only Lorie was left, she winked at me.

“I’ll be here when you wake. Sweet dreams.” Velvet blackness, soft as eider down, enveloped me.

Chapter Three

I awoke the next morning, sunlight streaming into the room, creating a mosaic of shadows on the carpet. I saw this clearly, as the bed was currently rotated with me facing the floor. I moved my arms and legs a little, testing them against what I’d remembered, and found everything to be as it was when I’d slipped into unconsciousness – being pulled in every direction (it seemed), securely attached to the bed frame, and absolutely comfortable.

The nasal hood was gone, but I did notice one other addition – a sensation I’d felt a couple of weeks before, the feeling of something inside my urethra – a catheter. It didn’t hurt, wasn’t really even uncomfortable – it was just there, filling that conduit between my bladder and the outside world … it almost felt as if I was constantly urinating (which, technically, was the case). I also noted that my hands were still encased in their rigid mitts, and secured to the side of the bed. I was truly helpless, at the mercy of my hosts … and for some strange reason, it made me feel calm, secure, and somewhat aroused, to the point that I started to get an erection …..

The bed suddenly lurched, and started rotating. As it did, a pair of feet came into view, then legs, a skirt, wide belt, blouse, arms, and finally a face – Lorie. She smiled at me as she rotated the bed back to the supine position. “Good morning, how do you feel?”

I thought about that for a moment. How did I feel? My back and neck didn’t hurt much at the moment, my body was totally relaxed, and I really didn’t care about anything. How did I feel? It took a moment, but the words finally came to me – “At home.”

Lorie’s smile widened at that. “Good. Let’s get you out of that contraption, and we’ll see about some breakfast.” Teresa and Violet appeared then, and started removing sections of bars from the bed. Once out of the way, they had free access to me, and began tying up the traction ropes, taking the weight off of the harnesses.

Lorie retrieved a syringe (minus needle), and picked up the pigtail on the catheter. “Let’s get rid of this thing first, shall we?” The last time they had removed one of these tubes, I’d felt it for several days, especially when I went to the bathroom. This time, I expected some discomfort or burning sensation when the catheter was removed but instead all I felt was the tube sliding out of my urethra. “How was that?”

“That felt different from the last time, not nearly as uncomfortable. Not to sound ungrateful, but why doesn’t it hurt like it did the last time?”

“A topical anesthetic was added to the lubricant. We’d only used it on women before, not donors, and we weren’t sure how effective it would be on a man. In truth, we really haven’t had much of an inclination over the last several years to find out.” She looked at me and comically raised her eyebrows. “What’s the verdict?”

I looked down at my member (which was still erect), then back up at Lorie. “If it works that well every time, feel free to use it whenever you feel it necessary.”

Lorie moved back slightly at that. Apparently, it wasn’t what she was expecting to hear. “You mean that? It would certainly make things easier during the night, especially if you’re using these.” She tapped the mitts which were still on my hands.

“Yes, I mean that. It really did not bother me any, just a strange little sensation, but nothing I’d call bad. Besides, it goes along with the helpless-thing.” I moved my legs to indicate the traction apparatus. Lorie smiled again, leaned over, and kissed my nose. She then started unbuckling straps. I wondered if she took my comment seriously, and found myself hoping that she had.

It only took a few moments to get me unhooked from that bed, and three pairs of hands helped me out of it and into a wheelchair. The muscle relaxants were still at work, for I felt somewhat weak and rubbery. Teresa and Violet took me to the bathroom, and I again found myself being washed by their strong, capable hands. They seemed to be enjoying it also, and I wasn’t surprised when I was asked if I wanted them to shave me. Sure, why not.

A hot towel was wrapped around my face and left in place for several minutes, after which they proceeded to lather up my beard, then expertly removed it with a razor. They were admiring their work when Teresa asked, “Anywhere else?” I turned and raised an eyebrow at her. “Here, shaving one’s personal areas is commonplace. While not everyone does, a great many do, and those that do swear by it.” One of those mischievous grins formed on her face. “Care to try it?” I looked at her, then down at my private parts. She must have guessed my worries, for she followed it up with, “I promise we’ll be careful.”

I shrugged – when in Rome … “Why not”. Violet walked to a wall switch, and a bar lowered down over the tub. “Grab that, and spread your legs apart.” I did as I was told, and in moments my front and backside were smeared with shaving cream. I tried to relax as they worked, but the idea of one of them slipping and seeing one of my testicles circling the drain kept popping into my mind. Several minutes later I was still waiting for the inevitable nick, when they began rinsing off my body. They finished by carefully inspecting their work, which involved slowly examining every bit of skin for stubble, and taking care of any spots that weren’t to their satisfaction. When they finally pronounced themselves finished, they helped my out of the tub and toweled me off. Once dry, the sprinkled liberal amounts of baby powder on me, and rubbed it in ….. Everywhere. By the time they were done, they had caressed every square inch of my body more than once. Needless to say, it also gave me an erection, though they didn’t take much note of it. A pair of shorts and a bathrobe covered my very bare body, and sheepskin slippers were placed on my feet. By now I was famished, and said so. “Perfect”, Teresa said, “Breakfast should be ready.”

I walked out into the room, and breakfast was indeed being set up in the living area. Four places were set, I was thankful to see, for I really did not want to eat alone. As it turned out, Lorie, Teresa and Violet all shared the meal with me. While we ate, I asked questions about the area, and learned that this hospital had an extensive garden which was open to everyone. Also discussed was this world’s form of government (a republic headed by a prime minister), and my role in it (none, actually, except for certain ceremonial functions [rare], or to pass judgment on certain types of convicted criminals [even more rare]). I also asked about citizens’ rights (lots), and their society as a whole. When we were finished eating, I had little better understanding of the world I found myself in, and a lot more questions about it.

As I finished eating, I excused myself, and headed for the restroom. I half expected one of my caretakers to follow me, and was actually relieved when they didn’t. I appreciated all the attention being lavished on me, but felt that I could wipe my own butt without any assistance. As I settled in and started emptying my bladder, I was pleased to find out that my most recent catheterization bore no resemblance to an earlier episode – peeing shortly after it had been removed, this time didn’t hurt at all. As I finished up and cleaned myself, I more closely examined my newly-bare private parts, marveling at how smooth and soft they suddenly felt. Very erotic. Yep, I could get used to this.

I exited the bathroom, finding that two of my nurses (as I started to think of them) had left – Teresa was still there, standing next to the bed, laying out some clothes. She heard me and turned.

“You have an appointment for one-thirty this afternoon for the initial casting for your brace. The technician, Marcia Sturgis, has indicated that you need to be very relaxed for the procedure, so at about noon you will be given a tranquilizer. It won’t knock you out, but it will make the session much more comfortable for you, and will allow Marcia to do her work better. She has also requested that you skip lunch, to prevent your belly from being distended, and to avoid any complications from the tranquilizer.”

“Like?” Nervousness crept into my voice.

Teresa smiled. “Sometimes, the constriction of the cast, which must necessarily be snug, and the tranquilizers can produce severe vertigo, causing nausea and vomiting. We’d prefer to avoid that.”

“Oh, I see.” I looked at the clothes. “So, what do I do until then?” The clock said I had three hours.

“It is strongly suggested” and she gave me a stern look, “that I take you for a walk, so that you may get some exercise.”

I stared at her for several moments with the most serious look I could muster. I wanted to see exactly where I stood in this matter, and how far I could go. Teresa didn’t budge, so I gave in. Smiling, I replied, “Well, I guess I really don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Teresa continued her stern look for another forty seconds, before she lost it and started laughing. “No, you don’t.”

This was going to be fun.

The clothes all fit me perfectly. Short-sleeved shirt, pants that felt like denim, but weren’t, and those sheepskin boots that all of Hollywood was wearing when I’d left my world. The clothes were all loose without feeling like I was swimming in them, and gave me plenty of room in all the right places. I wondered why I could never found clothes that fit this well where I’d come from.

Dressed, we left my room, went down the elevator, and out into the gardens. Lots of other patients were there, either going through exercise or physical therapy routines in the cool, clean air outside, or just getting out of the building for a bit. We passed three different women that had just been placed in body casts extending up to their heads, and they were learning how to walk without being able to look down. I made a point of stopping and talking to them, wishing them luck in their treatment and offering to do whatever I could to help them. From their reactions, I gathered that good manners from a man were something most of them had never seen.

I also met Sarah. Sarah had been in a motorcycle accident (they had motorcycles on this world? Yeah! I would have to see about getting one …), and had broken her neck. She was seated n a wheelchair, a halo brace affixed to her head, and a trach tube installed in the front of her throat (though it was, at the moment, capped off). I found out that while she had initially been completely paralyzed, she was slowly regaining at least some mobility, and had already regained the ability to breathe on her own, as well as most of her upper body strength – so much so that at the moment she was shuffling a deck of cards and dealing them to three other patients, in some variation of poker. After we’d bid them good day and walked on, I turned to Teresa.

“She seems to be in great spirits. Come to think of it, most of the people I’ve seen here are in great spirits. This must be a really great hospital – where I come from, most people in the hospital tend to be rather morbid and dour.”

“Well, you have to consider several things. In Sarah’s case, three weeks ago she was a complete quadriplegic, to the point of depending on a respirator to breath. She has regained the use of her arms, and is able to breathe on her own. Two days ago she moved her legs a little, and was able to control her bladder. So, yes, compared to where she was, she’s on top of the world right now.”

“As for everyone else, you’ve been told of the problems we’ve had with previous donors. Please don’t think we are blowing it out of proportion – if anything, we have understated the problem we had. Because of the situation in which we find ourselves, and because of how desperately we depend on donors, our world enacted a law which said that, with very few exceptions, the donors have a free run of our world. Just because it’s law, however, doesn’t mean we had to like it, especially those who endure some of the less-than-polite things that those donors force on them. Though you’ve been here only a short time, you are so completely different from anybody we have had in a long, long time that people are extremely happy. We haven’t had a donor who treated others with respect in what seems like forever.” She chewed her lower lip a little, and then continued speaking. “Of course, your behavior to date has also brought up a few questions – please forgive me, but I need to ask you some things.” She looked straight into my eyes, almost pleading forgiveness for a sin she was about to commit.

I smiled back. “Go ahead.”

She took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. “Do you like women? I mean, in a physical manner?”

I stopped suddenly in my tracks, and stared at her with an open mouth. Teresa looked at me, then quickly down to the ground. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to pry …”

Her words were stopped by my sudden bellow of laughter. Okay, I admit, I needlessly embellished it, hammed it up, laughed a bit louder and more theatrically than I really felt, but I needed to make sure the point was made. I halted my laughing after a moment, and addressed the shocked nurse. “Yes, I like women, yes, I prefer women, yes, I enjoy sleeping with, making love to, and having sex with women, and no, I have no interest in men.” I stopped for several seconds to let it sink in. Teresa gulped once, then she regained her smile. “The reason I have not yet tried to sleep with any women here is, I am concerned that they would think it is their duty to accommodate me. I love women, I love being with women, and I especially love making love to women, but I will not try to make a woman sleep with me if she does not want to – I’d prefer that it was something she wanted to do, instead of feeling like it was something she HAD to do. Does that make any sense?”

“Yes, that makes perfect sense.” Teresa seemed genuinely relieved, then reached up, grabbed my head in her hands, and laid a long, wet kiss on me. I got the impression she wanted to say more on the subject, but for the moment she kept it to herself. We resumed our walking, though in silence. It took another ten minutes before she spoke again. “Lorie seems to think your current situation, uh, excites you.” Apparently another subject that she felt was delicate.

I took another one of those deep breaths. “Yes, actually, it does.” I allowed fifty yards to pass before I continued. “I can’t tell you when it started, or why, but being immobilized, being restrained, being under someone else’s control, excites me – it always has, as far back as I can remember.” I turned to face her. “That doesn’t mean that I’m callous and heartless, in regards to what a lot of your citizenry is going through – just the opposite, I like to think that I understand it more than most people from my world, and therefore sympathize with them. And I’m not being patronizing – I have been through three spinal surgeries myself, so I know what the pain and discomfort really is, especially when the pain never ever really goes away. I’m not into the pain thing, which is one of the reasons why I asked to be placed in traction and to have a brace made – it really does make my back and neck feel better, the immobilization and the distraction of the spine and it relieves the pain. It just so happens that it is also something that arouses me, erotically.”

“So, your back and neck really are …”

“Yes, they are. I was in an automobile accident many years ago, and injured my spine in several places. When I left my world, there was lots of hardware attached to my spine, which will show up well on an X-ray.”

“A what?”

“X-ray – it’s a picture taken of the bones, using radiation. It allows you to see the bones inside the body, without having to perform surgery.”

“Oh, okay, that’s what we call a bone photo. Some were taken of you when you were first brought here, but I haven’t seen them.” We walked on a bit further, finally reaching the far end of the gardens. I looked at Teresa, and there was a glint in her eyes, and a slight smile on her lips. She looked up at me, and for a moment I saw something in her eyes I hadn’t seen before, something – wicked. She smiled up at me. “So, you enjoy being submissive, and you enjoy medical restraint and orthopedic immobilization.”

There are times when very few words convey very great meanings. Those thirteen words that Teresa had spoken were all that were necessary to tell me that she knew – she knew – exactly what was going through my mind. And, coupled with the look on her face, they also told me that I was going to find everything I had ever desired in her hands.

Chapter Four

The walk back to my room was mostly in silence. We passed Sarah again on our way in, and she shot me a smile from behind a rather large stack of coins – it seemed that she was a good player, and I decided that I would have to try and spend some time with her learning the game. (I loved playing poker. I wasn’t any good at it, but I loved playing it.) People I passed smiled and nodded their heads at me – I apparently had managed to make a good impression on the locals.

Entering my room, Lorie and Violet were there, just finishing making up my bed. They’d not only changed the sheets, but had placed large pads of sheerling sheepskin on top of them – it looked very soft and comfortable. Done with the bed-making, they turned towards me, and without so much as a word began helping me out of my clothes. I looked at a clock, and saw that it was near noon – I guess it was time. I lifted each leg in succession so they could remove my boots and pants, then again as my underwear was lowered. While they were working, I caught Lorie looking at Teresa, and Teresa responding with the slightest nod. Lorie looked down, apparently not wanting me to see the smile on her face. She then gathered my clothes and turned to place them on the dresser next to my bed.

When she turned back around, she was holding those rigid mittens again. “Hold out your hands.” It wasn’t a soft request, and it wasn’t a hard demand, but was delivered somewhere in between; a firm order, I guessed. I complied without reacting, and Lorie slipped them onto my hands, and secured them around my wrists. “In bed” – delivered with the same tone. I complied in the same way. I suspected the sheepskin pads on top of the bed sheets were soft, yet I was surprised to find out just how soft they were – I couldn’t remember laying on anything so comfortable. The three nurses eased me up in the bed, getting me situated as they wanted me. I didn’t resist a bit. Once in place, Lorie stepped around the corner, and came back with another pair of sheepskin boots (they really liked sheepskin on this world. I had to admit that, so far, it had made my stay very comfortable.). These boots, however, were very rigid, had several sets of straps on each, and had a “D” ring attached to the outside. “Spread your legs apart.” I complied, Lorie handed one boot to Teresa, and together they applied them to my feet. Once in place, straps were tightened, and I found my lower legs in the same predicament as my hands – encased in a rigid prison of unbelievable softness. Straps were attached to the “D” rings, and tied off to the sides of the bed, holding my legs apart. The mitts were likewise secured.

While I was being tied into bed, Violet had wandered around the corner of the room, and came back with a tray covered by a towel. She rolled it up next to the bed, and removed the towel to display what was underneath – instruments, syringes, small bowls, and some sealed packages. “The initial casting for your brace is going to take some time, and so it was suggested that you be catheterized prior to the procedure.” She turned over the packages, revealing the yellow catheter and the large bag it was going to be attached to. Looking at it, I hadn’t noticed that Teresa had walked away. She was suddenly standing over my head, holding that nasal anesthesia hood. She lowered it onto my face, and secured it with a strap behind my head. I breathed the cool gasses flowing out of it, and immediately started to relax. Violet spoke again. “You will need to keep your mouth closed and breathe through your nose, otherwise we will have to place a gag in your mouth.” It hit me then that the three of them had been talking about me, and my reactions to my surroundings, and had apparently been making plans together. Their efforts were rewarded, as my penis suddenly arose to the occasion. Violet looked at it, and shook her head. “I can’t catheterize it like that.” She reached under the bed and produced a large, clear plastic tube. It had a hose coming out of the top, and an inner sheath of what appeared to be translucent latex. Lorie, who was now on the opposite side of the bed, reached over and smeared some lubricant on my member followed by Violet placing the tube on it. With a loud sucking sound, it pulled itself down into place, and then started pulsating. I looked at Lorie, who smiled.

“It’s a version of the device we use for harvesting from donors. It is not as efficient as the one used on you when you first got here, but it is a great deal more comfortable, from what we’ve been told.” With that, she and the other two nurses placed the top frame on the bed and secured it, sandwiching me in between rigid layers of velvet softness. They then stepped back and watched.

It didn’t take long, only five or six minutes, before I exploded in an orgasm the likes of which I had seldom experienced. I found that the more I tried to move in the bed, and found that I couldn’t, the more it enhanced the experience – being restrained definitely enhanced the situation. As my bucking against the bed frame subsided, the nurses moved in. Violet removed the tube (not easily, as my member was still a little swollen, and she didn’t bother to shut off the vacuum), and Lorie produced a warm, damp washcloth to clean me with. The pneumatic syringe was taken from the tray, and I was given a shot in my hip (the muscle relaxant, no doubt). Violet then proceeded to install the catheter. I wondered if I would be sensitive, having something introduced into my urethra so soon after ejaculating, but when the lubricant was introduced, I felt the numbing sensation immediately, and relaxed. Violet slowly introduced the tube into me, and took her time sliding it in. As it reached the base of my penis, it put pressure on my prostate as it curved around and upwards into my bladder. I closed my eyes, and a groan escaped from my throat. Violet stopped, waited a second, then withdrew the catheter a couple of inches. She slowly reinserted it , again hitting that sensitive spot. Another groan. She backed the tube out again, and this time placed her finger at the base of my scrotum, feeling the catheter as it slid back inside for the third time. I obliged by groaning yet again when it hit that spot, and she reciprocated by slowly moving the tip of the tube back and forth across the area. I thought I might have another orgasm, but she stopped and finished inserting the tube. I felt the urine drain from my bladder, and felt that satisfying sensation that men feel when they’ve peed after holding it in for a very long time. I smiled, and blew Violet a kiss. She responded by kissing my abdomen about halfway between my penis and my bellybutton. The muscle relaxant then starting taking effect, and I closed my eyes in blissful slumber.

I was awakened by people removing the top frame from my bed, and the boots and mitts from my hands and feet. I thought about opening my eyes, but it just seemed to take too much energy, so I kept them closed. Teresa’s voice was then in my left ear.

“We need you to stand up if you can, so that we may put some clothes on you. Once you’re dressed, we can sit you down in the wheelchair.”

It seemed reasonable, so I rolled towards that side of the bed, feeling several pairs of hands helping me along the way. I still didn’t open my eyes, but managed to stand up with a minimum of teetering. At least two people held me steady, while others lifted my legs one at a time and helped me into some pajama bottoms. Secured around my waist, I was eased down into a chair, and a shirt was slid onto first one arm, and then the other, and finally wrapped around my torso. When it was tied off (huh? No buttons?) I was eased back into the chair, which had a high, reclined back. My legs were lifted up, and settled into raised rests. I felt motion as I was wheeled out of the room. I tried to keep track of where I was without opening my eyes, and did pretty well until we were in the elevator. It started down, and I finally relented to curiosity and forced my eyelids wide. Teresa, Lorie and Violet were in the cab with me, along with two others whom I had not yet met. They looked down, and smiled at me. I noted the one with blond hair was in a Milwaukee Brace – no, correction, a Long Bar Brace. I reminded myself that I needed to learn the customs and names of this world, and so should start right now.

The elevator door opened, and I was wheeled out to the same floor I’d been on the day before. We passed the physical therapy area, and went straight to the brace shop, where I was met by the same woman I’d talked to the previous day, Marcia Sturgis. She smiled down at me.

“Are you ready to begin?”

My mouth reminded me of trips I’d been on to the dentist – it was sort of numb, and felt full of cotton. Yet, I managed to mumble a coherent reply in the affirmative, after which Marcia took control of the wheelchair, guiding back towards one of the private rooms. As I was wheeled through the shop, I noticed lots of patients there – a lot more than what was there the day before. I nodded towards a group of them. “What’s the occasion?” I mumbled.

Marcia smiled sweetly. “We’re just very busy, trying to get caught up on a six-year backlog in a manner of speaking. But don’t worry, we’re going to give yours top priority. You’ll have your brace in a jiffy.”

What she said made a knot form in my stomach. I realized I was a VIP, but I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep well knowing that I’d caused even one day’s delay in treating any of those women. I decided to test the limits of my new powers.

“No.”

Marcia slowed quickly, and then leaned over me. “Excuse me?”

I licked my lips, trying to form coherent words in a brain numbed by drugs. “No. You will not give my brace priority.”

Marcia seemed truly puzzled. I think maybe she thought she’d said something to offend me, or perhaps had violated some form of protocol. She looked up at Lorie and Teresa, who were equally dumbfounded, then turned back to me. “I thought you wanted this brace?”

Again I carefully considered my words before I spoke them. I knew that what next came out of my mouth could have serious ramifications concerning my visit here. I nodded towards the nearest group of patients. “They have more to lose, will suffer more if their treatment is delayed. What I want a brace for is not nearly as important as what they need a brace for – they come first. You may work on mine when you don’t have any others to work on, but under no circumstances – under no circumstances – is the construction of my brace to delay by a single minute the treatment of anybody else. And you may consider that a direct order from me.” I looked straight into her eyes, feeling as if I’d probably overstepped my bounds, but I was committed to my course of action, so I followed it through. “Is that clearly understood?”

Marcia stepped back for a moment and looked at the floor. She then looked up at the other nurses and technicians there, who each slowly nodded. She then looked around the room at all the patients who’d heard the exchange – apparently my voice had carried. Many of them were nodding, some smiling, others crying. She then turned back to me.

“You have my word, that not one moment of any time will be spent in this shop putting your brace before that of anyone else who comes here seeking treatment. But, since you are here and prepped, can we at least go ahead and cast you?”

I felt somewhat stupid. I should have realized from my previous visit that they’d be extremely busy for some time to come re-fitting a great percentage of the population with appliances, and that accepting their offer of fitting me with a brace would have cut into the time they had to do it. I felt a little guilty for having already caused delays, but knew that less time would be wasted by going through with the casting now, as opposed to leaving and starting all over later on. I nodded, and Marcia again took control of the wheelchair, guiding me into the nearest room.

As we entered, I saw the middle of the room was filled with a huge stainless steel frame, attached to which were several windlasses and straps. A casting frame. I was a little perplexed, as everyone I had seen so far had been casted in a vertical, standing (or semi-standing) position. I mentioned this to Marcia.

“Yes, usually molds are made with the patient in a standing position, and we will make one of you that way, too. But, I also want to have a mold made of you in the horizontal position. When we finally start working on your brace, I want to make two of them for you – one for daytime use, and one for use at night, for those times when you don’t want to sleep in traction. I think I can engineer a sleeping brace that will help your back and neck much better than traction can.”

After last night, I wasn’t sure how much better sleeping could be – I’d awoken this morning completely relaxed and with very little discomfort. However, Marcia seemed to know what she was doing, so I nodded at her, smiling as I did so. She turned to the others in the room, who went quickly to work.

I was lifted up from the wheelchair, and my pajamas deftly removed – leaving only my bare skin and a catheter plugged into a collection bag. These same hands quickly applied two layers of stockinet to my body, a fitted suit that rolled down my arms and legs, and up over my head. There was even an appendage for my penis, with the yellow catheter sticking out of the end. Once all this was in place, I was lifted up into the frame, and set down on a wide webbing strap that ran the length of the frame. A stockinet head halter and pelvic traction harness were applied, and more strips were applied to my arms and legs. Once finished, I was pretty much in the same physical position as I was in while sleeping in traction, with my arms out to the side, and my legs raised up and slightly apart. I then heard some clanking, and slowly windlasses tightened the head halter and pelvic harness, stretching my spine. They stopped, and Marcia spent considerable time walking around, looking at my position, making minute adjustments here and here, until she was satisfied. A black rubber oxygen mask was placed over my face, and a large pad over my eyes, then Marcia and her assistants immediately started wrapping me in wet plaster bandages. I wondered about the mask and the pad over my eyes, until I realized that they were encasing my head as well as every other part of my body. I lay there, as plaster, started from four different locations, ended up converging on my chest. They then worked back outwards, applying a second layer over the first. From start to finish, I doubt it took more than eight minutes to encase me in plaster.

I was grateful for the cool oxygen flowing out of the mask, as all that plaster started setting up at once. I tried to count the passing of time by counting my breaths, but gave up after two hundred. It seemed a stupid thing to do, anyway. Here I was in a predicament I’d always dreamed about, and I found myself anticipating getting out of it. No, I said to myself, I’m going to enjoy this for as long as it lasts. I cleared my mind, and tried to feel every sensation I was feeling at the moment (except for that rivulet of sweat that just trickled down between my butt cheeks – I didn’t care for that).

I’d never done meditation before, but started thinking I’d stumbled upon it, so serene and peaceful was what I felt, when my serenity was interrupted by someone tapping on the outside of the cast. They started at the foot, and worked their way up to my head. They must have decided it was sufficiently set, for almost immediately I heard – and felt – a saw cutting into it. I made a note to ask for earplugs before they did the next cast.

It took many minutes of cutting, the saw noisily vibrating the cast against my body, before the saw was shut of, and with a popping noise the top half of the cast was lifted from the bottom half. Out of the way, willing sets of hands rolled my over onto my stomach, and the bottom half was lifted from my back. One down, one to go.

The standing cast was not nearly so involved. I sat against a horizontal bar, just enough to tilt my pelvis the way Marcia wanted, and encased from my hips to the top of my head. My arms and legs were spared this time, and in short order this cast too was cut from me. As Teresa and blond nurse with the Tall Bar brace (I found out here name was Camilla) helped me back into my pajamas, I removed the plugs from my ears (they’d made a big difference. I mentioned this to Marcia, who apparently had never considered it, and she promised to start supplying them to all her patients undergoing casting), and allowed myself to be eased into the wheelchair. Between the muscle relaxants and the exertion of the casting session, I was about ready to fall asleep. Before I did, I turned to Marcia and thanked her, and reminded her of what I’d said.

“I remember, and I promise that no work will be done in this shop on your brace while there is any other work to be done.” There was a tone to her voice that told me she was up to something, that I needed to consider exactly what she’d just said, but frankly I was too tired to key onto it. I remember passing lots of people while heading out the door, but was fast asleep before we got to the elevator.