previous:

He leaves the room and I’m lying there trying to find that elusive feeling I had.

Now that I’ve met him, I’m beginning to have some second thoughts. Something is just a little too smooth. Of course it just may be that I’m still too doped up to be able to get a good ‘reading.’ I had a good reading from the Sergeant, though, so I’m confused.

The Sergeant was friendly and nice and didn’t push at all, like a big brother who wants to protect his little sister. The impression I got from my fiancé was more like the big bad wolf.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/06 - 7:03pm., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 18 is revised and reposted on Sun, 2009/12/20 - 01:30 PM. ~Sephrena

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Watch out for the rumor mill:

Chapter 18

 

Again, I’ve been asleep when a nurse comes in.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Ready for supper? My, don’t we look nice?”

“Thank you. Yes, I think I could handle it.”

“I’ll sit you up,” she says as she works the controls at the foot of my bed.

The head of my bed begins to rise and eventually she comes around and fusses with my pillows to help me to sit up straighter.

“I hear you had a visitor today.”

“Yes, my fiancé.”

“The mess Sergeant is your fiancé? That will burst a lot of bubbles.”

“Oh, no. No. My fiancé visited too.”

“Ohhh. That’s good, I thought for a moment there would be a lynching party and you were about to be the guest of honor. Every nurse in the building wants to go out with him.”

“My fiancé?” I ask.

She looks at me with an ‘are you dense?’ expression. “No, with the mess Sergeant. They’ll be glad to hear you’re not in the competition. What was he like?”

“I don’t know. He seems nice, though. His eyes say that he’s thoughtful and kind. He seemed kind of reserved too, but that’s probably the rank thing. If I had my pick of big brothers, he’d probably be the one I’d want.”

“The rumor is that he’s related to General Pendleton.”

“Uncle Phillip?”

“Who’s Uncle Phillip?”

“General Pendleton is my uncle. I guess that’s why the Sergeant visited me. He must be some kind of cousin.”

“Oh boy. Wait until I tell this to the girls. They’ll be glad to hear it. That explains why he visited you and not someone else. It also explains the ‘surprise’ and a special tray for you.”

“I’m confused.”

“The mess Sergeant visited you, not anyone else. Since you’re both related to General Pendleton, that would explain the visit. Here, you’d better eat and rest some more, you’re still out of it. He even sent you a special tray. It has your name on it, so he could be certain you get the right one.”

She pushes the cart over and adjusts it so my tray is partially in front of me. Then she removes the covers from the plates. I notice that a note is tucked under the edge of the dinner plate.

The note reads: “I’ll be back in ten minutes to be certain you’re eating.”

She hurries out the door, probably to put another rumor into the mill for grinding.

That mill seems to have an overabundance of rumors going through it these past few days. I pull another note from under the dessert plate, which has a small torte sitting on it.

‘Try this for dessert and let me know what you think.’

I look over my supper and see that it looks like it came from an expensive New York restaurant. No, I’ve never been there, but I’ve seen them in movies and can imagine. You know, all the little touches of presentation and garnishes to make everything look appetizing. Our mess Sergeant could undoubtedly teach cooking in Paris. Hmm, related to General Pendleton. That would mean we’re probably ‘cousins’ of some sort.

Veal Parmigiana? Wow. Sliced green beans, some sort of thick creamy sauce on the side, I poke my finger in and take a taste. Mmmm, good. A bowl of broth — smells wonderful, a small bowl with four perfect strawberries, the torte, and what’s this in my cup? It looks like red wine. It is red wine.

Wow! Get a whiff of the bouquet. Just a small sip, just enough to taste. Wow again. This isn’t cheap. If I didn’t know better, and if I weren’t confined to a hospital bed, I’d say he was courting me and was treating me to a fine restaurant meal. I take a bite of one of the strawberries. Mmmm, sweet. I need my glass of water and struggle to bring it closer. Now I start my banquet. The veal just melts in my mouth. Mmmm. Geez, I’ll be sorry to go back to the officer’s mess in camp.

“Okay, how are you doing in here?” The evening nurse comes in.

“It’s wonderful”

She takes a good look at my food, “Is that wine?”

“Yes. You can’t have it, it’s mine….” as I cover it with my hands in mock protection.

She laughs, and looks at everything else.

“Looks good.”

“It’s delicious. Here, try a bite of the veal.”

She takes the small bite off my fork and in moments her eyes are saying, ‘Very nice.’ as she says, “That’s really good. What’s this?” She lifts my note and reads it.

“Oh, getting notes from the chef, huh?”

“We’re related, it seems. He’s somehow related to my Uncle Phillip, or so I’m told.”

“Who’s Uncle Phillip?”

Obviously the rumor mill hasn’t dispensed any of its latest grindings to her yet, so I explain again. I finish my meal while taking very small sips of the wine every now and then.

Finally I try my torte. Just like the veal, it melts in my mouth. Layers with different tastes assembled in a way that makes the whole experience delectable. I savor every bite. It’s a shame to follow it with a dinner wine, despite the excellent vintage. After I finish my meal, I find my pencil and write a note back to him.

‘The meal was wonderful, the wine excellent and the torte was absolutely delectable. Thank you, Lucy. P.S. I hear you’re related to Uncle Phillip.’ The nurse returns about twenty minutes later, waking me up so she can lower my bed again and I can sleep. I don’t understand why they wake you up so you can go to sleep. She takes my tray and note, then leaves. I vaguely remember awakening long enough for my shot and pills and the next time I awaken the room is dark.

Turning on the small light I carefully get out of bed and make my way to the toilet. It is quite difficult with the bandages down there pulling a bit but somehow I manage then pat my whole mess dry with toilet tissues. I’m padding back to the bed when the night nurse comes in.

“I thought I saw a light. Here, get up on the bed and let me check.”

I flow onto the bed without thinking about it and she examines me to be certain I haven’t pulled anything.

“You’re doing pretty well. We’re taking off these bandages and I have orders to dilate you tonight so you don’t develop any adhesions, and to check to see if you are beginning to self lubricate. That will be a good indication that you’re healing. We’ll be doing this a few times a day for the next few days, for about ten minutes each time. Are you ready for that?”

I haven’t the faintest idea what she is talking about, but I suppose she thinks this is normal for me.

“Okay, go ahead.”

She has me lie back as she draws the curtains around me and takes this thing which is about eight or ten inches long smearing some sort of lubricant on it. She has me spread my legs and just begins to insert it when I finally figure out what’s going on. In it goes. She slowly works it in further and further and I can feel it deeper and deeper until she says, “There. Now just lie there and don’t move. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

This is embarrassing. Here I am open to the world with this thing stuck in me.

After a few minutes I am getting over my embarrassment and begin examining the feeling of it in me. This must be a little like what it will be like to have a man in me. I’m not certain what I think about it.

I concentrate more on where it seems to be and how deep it is. I reach down carefully and touch it to discover half to two thirds of it is in me. Perhaps five or six inches. With my hand I try to get some idea of just how long it could be and how large the diameter might be. If it is ten inches long then at least six of that is in me. The diameter is about a joint and a half of my finger which would make it roughly an inch and a quarter. Are men really this big? I never was.

I tentatively touch it again and move it a little, pressing it from side to side inside me. I’m rewarded with the feel of it moving in me. Gasping, I try moving it in and out, just a little, and find the sensation… interesting. I continue for a minute, to discover that I think I like it and my breasts are responding as well, by becoming even more sensitive. What’s happening to me? This is scary, but it’s wonderful too.

I allow it to remain, while slightly rolling my hips and am again rewarded with a pleasant sensation. I begin to imagine what it would be like to feel my husband on top of me with his manhood stroking in and out instead of this thing. I place a hand on my groin and press lightly, then a little harder as I move the thing with my other hand. Geez. I think I’m going to like being a woman and having my husband taking me in bed. I wish I could have children.

I hear the nurse returning so I put my hands together on my tummy. She comes around the curtain and begins fussing with the thing slowly moving it in and out gradually withdrawing it then cleaning both it and me.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Not after the first couple of minutes. It made me want my fiancé.”

She smiles, “Well, we need to continue using this for a while, I’m afraid. Gradually, we’ll go up to larger sizes. We need to be certain that everything is okay before you start playing house with your fiancé. They will be doing this again in the morning. Probably just before or just after breakfast.” She wraps it in a towel and places it in the stand by the side of my bed.

“You’re doing pretty well. A few days will tell. When they let you leave they will send one back with you and you will need to do it yourself each night for the next few weeks then it will be gradually be tapered off to just once or twice a week as you continue healing. Eventually, your fiancé may be able to take care of this naturally.” She gives me a ‘look,’ smiles, and leaves the room.

I continue to consider the sensations I have just experienced as I fall asleep again.

-o~O~o-

During the night my dreams begin considering the thing which was in me gradually shifting to the man who is to be my husband and finally completing with the Mess Sergeant on top of me kissing me and stroking in and out until I see fireworks. When I awaken I feel like the whole world knows about my dream.

“Good morning.”

“Hi. You’re in early.”

“Well, we need to do something this morning before breakfast,” as she draws the curtains around me. “I understand they did this last night. Do you want to try it on your own?”

“Maybe next time. It’s a little embarrassing.”

“I know. Sorry. We need to do it though.”

“Go ahead. I’ll survive.”

“Good girl. Just pretend it’s your fiancé or maybe that handsome mess Sergeant.”

I must have blushed.

“Whoa…. Got it bad, huh? Which one? Your fiancé or the Sergeant? Or maybe both?”

My eyes widen. I don’t remember her in the dream so how could she know?

“I’m a girl, Lucy. I have the same kind of dreams.”

Oh great, now I’m expressing my feelings on my face when I don’t want to.

“Okay, legs apart. You look pretty good. Any tenderness?” She is gently pressing on me in a most embarrassing place.

“No, I feel okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Well….” I can feel my cheeks flush.

She smiles knowingly, “Sorry, here we go.”

I feel the thing moving into me again, not quite as easily. She adds a little lubricant as it goes in. She also slides it out once in a while and then back in a little further moments later.

“That’s good, you’re starting to produce your own lubrication. That means your internal organs are starting to work again, after the injuries you received in the accident.”

She again draws it out and slides it back in further yet.

“Good, you’re doing really well. Just once more and then we’ll let it stay there a little while.”

I feel it move out and can’t wait for it to come in again. As it slides in, I almost go wild wanting it. I feel it touch me somewhere inside and am so excited I’m quivering. She leaves it there and covers me with my gown and the covers. I want more of that sensation.

“I’ll be back in about ten. If it starts to slide out press it back in.”

Oh, I will. I will. “All right.”

She goes out and I start to play with my new toy, examining my feelings. It is in a little further than last night. Just less than a third of it is outside. I feel my skin all around it and discover I am very sensitive down there at the moment. Grasping the end I move it just a little to feel it inside me. I could get to love this sensation.

I try sliding it most of the way out and find it doesn’t need to be in very far for me to feel the excitement building.

With my eyes closed, I experiment with moving it in and out for a minute, both with my muscles relaxed and with them trying to grip it as I slide it out. I’d better push it back in. As it slides in, like it’s surrounded by silk, I feel it bump up against something. Another sensation floods me. Not pain. I’m not certain what I felt. I check the depth and believe it is about where she left it.

I’m considering the possibility of practicing with a man. Just to see what it’s like. To allow me a clinical perspective you understand, since I’ve never done this before. I wonder if Sis would let me borrow Tony for an hour or so? Maybe I could convince my fiancé to let me practice with him before he goes.

I’m lying there with my eyes closed, touching it once in awhile and then thinking about the sensations I am having. I didn’t know I would be able to feel like this.

Even without the children it’s almost worth it. I feel something move and reach down to discover it has slipped out a bit.

Pressing it back in brings momentary bliss and my muscles begin to contract as I quiver again. This is wonderful, just like Mom said. I try moving my muscles around it while holding it in and am rewarded with more of the sensations. I’m almost ecstatic.

The nurse returns and I try not to show my disappointment that it will be removed again. She slides it out and in a few times then draws it almost all the way out and slowly presses it all the way in again. I’m quivering with excitement. She pauses and then draws it out and cleans it off as I slowly begin to relax again. As she wipes me, I still feel the pleasure of receiving a touch down there. I may hardly wait to do this with my husband. I hope he likes me.

“That was good. Your body is recovering quickly now. This afternoon they will try it again. Maybe without additional lubrication. You seem to be able to produce enough on your own now.”

I can hardly wait. Breakfast arrives and it is just as good as lunch and supper were. No note though.

As I am finishing breakfast the doctors arrive to examine me. They poke at me and gently rub me down there, checking the reactions of my new plumbing. One of them puts on a surgical glove and gently enters me with his fingers, checking that I am producing normal amounts of lubricant. They look at the charts and get into an animated discussion of the chances they took and of the now active organs. They both come to the conclusion that it seems to be working out, as I show no signs of implant rejection, and everything else appears to have started functioning more or less properly, with the possible exception of my ovaries.

“Could you repeat some of that in English? I think what you’re saying is that I may have babies?”

“Not exactly. Yes, we implanted the vaginal canal and your uterus appears to be awakening and starting to function properly. You are beginning to be able to produce your own lubrication, so having normal sexual relations may not be a problem. We are in disagreement, however, as to the possibility of pregnancy. I think that if an embryo is implanted in you then it could grow to maturity and you could give birth just like any other woman.”

Now that catches my attention.

“Dr. Collins, on the other hand, agrees that you might be able to accept the embryo and allow it to grow but he feels that there is no guarantee of this, and you couldn’t give birth vaginally, but would need to deliver by Cesarian section, if any putative pregnancy goes to term.”

“I would also like the opportunity to implant ovaries to mate to the Fallopian tubes connected to your Uterus at some time in the future if these do not begin to function any time soon. That might allow you to produce children in the same manner as any other woman. That, just as this, would be experimental surgery.”

“Again, Dr. Collins disagrees and he believes the risks outweigh the possible benefits. That pretty much sums up the argument.”

“What say do I have in this?”

“You may decide not to do it, or you may decide to go for it. Neither of us recommends it at this time, however. I, myself, think you should wait about a year to see how you handle what you have and what effect it has on you. Dr. Collins, as I said, believes you should not have the additional surgery at all. In any case, the time for such discussion is in the future, not now.”

Wow, I could have babies like any other girl. Cool. I blurt out, “Let’s do it.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? Neither of us recommends it right now.”

“In that case, as soon as we can, let’s do it. My Mom has already donated eggs. If she is willing, could she donate an ovary?”

“We would need to do some tests to be certain. She may be too old for her ovaries to produce high-quality ova, even if we were able to transplant them.”

“Maybe long enough for me to have two or three girls?”

“No promises at this time. The charts show that you are doing quite well in just these two dilations. I think, if Dr. Collins agrees, that we’ll step up to the next size when you’re dilated this afternoon.”

The other doctor says, “I think I would prefer her to use the size we are using now, but without artificial lubricant. If that goes well, then tonight they can step up to the next size. Don’t you think that might be a little less risky?”

“Hmm…. Yes…. That’s likely a better approach. Let’s write that into the charts and see how she does. Lucy, if you experience any, and I mean any, discomfort tonight with the next size up, tell the nurse and she will continue with this size. Don’t try to go larger if it isn’t comfortable. We have plenty of time to work into it.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise. If it doesn’t feel perfectly comfortable, then I’ll tell her.”

“Good girl. If Dr. Collins doesn’t have any more, then we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No. I’ve said my piece and it looks like she is exceeding expectations at this point so let’s continue. See you tomorrow, Lucy.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

They go out, talking about my recovery, while I continue to think about babies.

The nurse comes in and takes my tray. While everyone is out I reach under the covers and touch myself. That’s an amazing place down there. I’m really sensitive all around the opening and when the thing is in me only the first few inches are terribly sensitive, the rest I sense more by inference. Relaxing again I take a sip of water and try to decide what to do with myself for a while. In comes the nurse with my pills and the shot. Well I guess the next minute or two are accounted for.

She just finishes and General George comes in.

“Hello, Sir. Where’s Uncle Phillip?”

“Probably about half way back to ‘Nam. How are you doing, young lady? Do you have that information about the breast forms and the wig?

“Yes, Sir. This is the page about the breast forms and the company from which they can be purchased. This page is about the wig and these are some of the hairs so they can match the colour. One more thing, Sir. Could they be asked if they can take the hairs from the destroyed wig and make one that’s a little shorter using the remains? I don’t want to do it right now, but I would like to know.”

Changing gears, I ask, “How’s everything on the home front? Is there anything I could do from here? I’m going stir crazy. I won’t be able to walk a lot for a couple of months, but I don’t want to just sit around. I need something to do.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I may have an answer. We’ll see how you handle it after you get out of the hospital.”

We talk for perhaps twenty minutes, mostly about how well I’m doing and a little about some of the duties I’ll have when I return to Southeast Asia. While I will be acting the part of a wife for the operative, I will also have embassy functions to attend, as well as several black ops events which require a woman and the ability to speak French.

As he winds down, he comes over and kisses my forehead, “See you in a few days. We’ll get these ordered and get back to you. Continue to improve, Linda, I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

“That’s Lucy, Sir.”

“Lucy? I don’t understand?”

“You called me Linda, Sir. My name is Lucy.”

“I did? Sorry, Linda is my daughter. It must just have slipped out.” He starts for the door.

“Oh, by the way, Sir. You really need to try the food here. I may not want to go back to the BOQ; the food here is that good.” His eyebrow goes up during my heads-up.

“The hospital food?”

“Yes, Sir. The new mess Sergeant went to a special school to learn the preparation of nutritional meals for patients. The meals taste very good, so the patient is likely to eat more and leave less. The meals are more nutritious as well, aiding in recovery.”

“This I’ve got to see, or rather taste. This is a bad time I would suspect. In between meals. I’ll go down and look anyway. Thanks.”

I give him a daughter’s smile to see his reaction, “You’re welcome.” I imply ‘Daddy’ at the end, but don’t quite say it.

He starts out giving me a friendly wave, and then pauses, glancing back with a puzzled expression on his face. He looks at me for a second and shakes his head then turns toward the door once more and waves again on his way out. I have the feeling he won’t recall I didn’t say ‘Sir.’

The rest of the day goes without event. My fiancé never showed up and, as far as I know, we’re not married yet, contrary to the suggestion he made yesterday. The lady with the book cart is going by the door and I manage to attract her attention. She rolls it in and asks my preferences. I go for romantic or science fiction. She rummages through the titles and comes up with one of each. I accept them both and start with ‘Stranger in a Strange Land’ by Heinlein. The title seemed appropriate to me for some reason.

The nurse awakens me for lunch. I can’t find my paperback so she looks around and finds it on the floor. Must be a good story…. I don’t remember any of it.

After she sits me up and places my tray I check to see how far I got. I don’t even remember page one. I’ll try again after lunch. Once again the meal is delicious, and once again there is no note. Oh well.

I begin reading the paperback once more, now that I have finished lunch and find myself into chapter two by the time my food tray is to be taken away. She lowers the bed again and I continue reading only to find myself being awakened for my affair with the dilator once more. This time there is hardly any lubricant used. She causes me great embarrassment, since it stimulates me sufficiently that I am producing my own lubrication, allowing the thing to slide in and out repeatedly until once again just over two thirds of it is in and she says it should remain for ten minutes.

I think I must have turned ten or twelve shades of scarlet at various times during the session. After she leaves, I experiment with moving my muscles and attempting to grip the thing, almost forcing it out by accident. I slide it back in until it is nearly two thirds in and hold it in place as I move my muscles, being rewarded with more of those interesting sensations. I think I’m becoming addicted.

She finally returns to remove it, allowing me to regain my composure.

I begin reading where I left off and make it into chapter three before supper shows up.

The nurse asks if I would like to sit in the chair to eat and I’m all for it. Flowing out of bed and into the chairs seems to be becoming easier, despite the slight pain in my hips as I move. She brings the rollaround all-purpose cart over and places my tray on it after adjusting the height for the chair.

“Thank you.”

She nods and leaves me to investigate my meal. This time, there’s a serving of cake for dessert on the tray with another note tucked under the plate: ‘Try this one. It should tickle your palate.’ That’s a puzzling comment. I have slices of lean roast beef with gravy, peas, a small amount of mashed potatoes, two pats of butter, one slice of bread, a fruit salad, and a cup of coffee. Plus the cake. The whole supper smells good and tastes divine. I am savoring my meal as the nurse comes in to check on me. I tell her, “I’m enjoying my feast.”

She smiles and goes out again. I take my time and eventually make my way to the piece of cake. I sample each layer to find this cake has a completely different range of tastes than its predecessor. I try a small cross-section, including each layer in one bite.

Interesting.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.