Message-ID: <33153asstr$1004357402@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: Stone-D X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-MIME-Autoconverted: from quoted-printable to 8bit by sara.asstr-mirror.org id DAA29808 X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Mon, 29 Oct 2001 15:05:24 +0700 Subject: {ASSM} STORY : Shock - Part III (M/F, MC, Mild NC, Rom) Date: Mon, 29 Oct 2001 07:10:02 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, english, gill-bates =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=XX=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Please refer to and read the header texts included in Part I, concerning Copyright, Reproduction restrictions and Disclaimer. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=XX=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Shock (M/F, MC, Mild NC, Rom) Copyright (C) by Stone-D 2001 Part III : External Influences FOR DANIEL, THE next three hours were filled with a plethora of doctors, specialists and general busybodies, all equally astonished and baffled by his transformation from a vegetable to a prime example of a man in full health. Blood samples, pressure cuffs, miscellaneous scanning hardware - all insisted that he shouldn't even be there. Three solid hours of pushing and prodding - without the least bit of lubrication - left Daniel feeling somewhat reamed and slightly suspicious about the professional detachment of some of those around him. Throughout all of this, Daniel saw nothing more of Dr. Farrow - apparently he was feeling unwell and had left some time earlier. Finally though, Daniel's patience was nearing breaking point. Thankfully, not one of the numerous tests had registered his growing anxiety and the pounding headache he was suffering. He had not anticipated the barrage of mental torment as he was meticulously examined by nearly everyone who wasn't a patient. Daniel simply could not find a way to shut them out - the querrulous voices yammering their dismay even as they voiced their congratulations upon his discharge; the silent commands demanding he confess to orchestrating a crude prank as they nodded to one another eagerly at this development. Contradictory emanations of praise, disbelief and even fear surrounded him as he was propelled from one laboratory to another - each and every one of them focused on Daniel. One discovery Daniel made should have left him overjoyed. Instead, it compounded the situation and he started to think he was being driven insane on purpose. Daniel had found during one of numerous attempts to ignore the mental clamor that with a little effort he could also 'see' what they saw in their minds - the mass of wildly pulsating energy lines and precise geometric interconnections he could see inside himself was not as strong within others, but the chaotic jumble that found rapidly coalesced into something like a thirties silent movie, becoming clearer as he grew accustomed to it. Thankfully though, this was one aspect he was in full control of. He did not particularly enjoy the images that flashed through some of their minds as he lay face down on a ward bed in his backless hospital shift. A few minutes shut away in a room whilst they argued amongst themselves was all the peace that he found during those painful hours, even then he could still hear the roaring murmur of their mental bickering beyond the walls. Daniel's overall disorientation was beginning to wear off now, and his recollections of recent events were starting to impose unwanted feelings in his heart. He was changing; there was no denying that. The rapid and extremely erotic events that immediately followed his awakening would have left Daniel in utter disbelief if he had heard about them from someone else. But no. Rather than the usual rote hospital routines, he had somehow reorganized his own chaotic biochemistry to a level that had panicked the locals. He had slep... no, he had screwed with a woman he knew not one whit about. My god! Daniel thought. What if it was my lust being projected that made her do... that's tantamount to rape! He shuddered in self revulsion momentarily as a thrill of perverse lust surged through him, then forced his mind past that on to other topics. Mild amusement followed by another wave of dismay washed over him as he recalled the close call with the orderly - what damage had he done to the poor man? Was he still in the john, torturing his guts trying to squeeze out a nonexistant shite? Fending off various excuses and vaguely worded threats of dire medical repercussions should he leave now, he eventually fought his way clear and successfully discharged himself once his insurance details had been settled by telephone - yet another laborious process, no doubt hampered by local efforts to detain him by the torturer-priests of the great god science. Finally, Dr. Roberts, one of the more prominent physicians there and the one with the largest concentration of humanity in his soul, intercepted him just as he signed his name for the ninth and last time on the small mountain of paperwork. "I do appreciate your understanding Mr. Stone, but really you must realize that this just does not happen every day!" "I sincerely appologize for our behaviour and... err, the little incident with doctor Emal." Daniel scowled. He still suffered from the occasional twinge if he tried to walk normally. "Anyway!" said Dr. Roberts hastily when he saw the look on Daniel's face. "I'm sure you're wanting to head off now. Please go to reception and book an appointment for three days from now, we'll need to do another checkup just in case something crops up." "Three days? What checkup? I thought you said I was fine?" "Oh yes! Remarkably fine, I should say. Nonetheless, the possibility exists that you may have some delayed reacti - " "Hold it, hold it. Whatever. Alright, I'll show - but I don't want a circus waiting for me, just you okay?" Dr. Roberts' face fell momentarily. "Ah, well I can't - " "Thought so." He had picked the crude image from the doctor's mind earlier in his interrogation depicting a large auditorium filled with rapt faces from the perspective of a man standing behind a podium. "Fine. Here's how it goes. I will phone the clinic, tomorrow maybe," Daniel gestured vaguely. "Then I'll set up an appointment on my own terms with yourself. Only you will know about it, so if half the medical profession does show up I know who to blame. That okay with you?" Daniel raised his eyebrows enquiringly. Dr. Roberts paused, then sighed as resignation swept his features. "Alright, yes that will be fine. Here's my card. It's got my extension number so you can contact me direct." "Haven't you got a mobile?" Daniel asked after a quick scan of the business card. "Oh, no! Certainly not. Can't stand the bloody things." Daniel saw a vivid image in the doctor's mind depicting a nighmarish being, some kind of monstrosity with cracked skin and bat-like wings straight out of ancient greek mythology, descending on him as he ran fruitlessly. Strangely, the creature seemed to be called Denise. Ah, Daniel thought. Must be his wife. After Daniel had signed himself out of the clinic, the receptionist handed over a small bundle of four envelopes that had apparently been waiting for the day he woke up. The first was from his friend and the company's lawyer, Samuel Brooks, and was dated roughly two months previously. The second appeared to be from the police and the third was again from Sam, this time a mere two weeks. The last was a plain envelope with his name printed in block capitals on the front, with no label nor return address. Seating himself next to an elderly man reading a newspaper - a visitor most likely - he tore that one open first and read the handwritten note within. Mr. Stone, I really don't know what to say, other than I'm sorry about what happened. You saved my life in more ways than one and I am in your debt. The clinic refused to tell me when you woke up, so please contact me whenever you can. Erin. Daniel noticed an address at the bottom of the paper, but didn't read it knowing he would probably forget it shortly. So he put the note back in the envelope and opened the first letter from Sam. Danny, I rather suspect this letter will be out of date once you finally read it, but anyway. In view of the events surrounding your shooting that resulted in you being in a coma, I've decided to try to make you a very rich man. I've consulted with Pete and he gave the go ahead - he says he knows how you would feel on the matter. The gist of it is, I've taken up proceedings to sue the police department for the gross misconduct of their officers in the line of duty. I don't want to talk figures yet, I'll let you know later. Sam Brooks. He had been shot! Daniel suddenly recalled the sharp smack on his leg that had knocked him off his feet and on his back on the wet road. He surreptitiously rolled up his trouser leg and searched the area where the impact should have been... yes, there it was. A small, starred region of pink scar tissue was all that remained - the bullet must have gone clean through and he had suffered only minor tissue damage. The injury had been healed completely during his coma; yet another nail of reality being hammered into his skull. Three months! "Excuse me, but could you tell me the time? My watch battery has gone dead," he asked of the nicest looking of the reception staff, a hispanic woman in her late twenties, with her hair cut short into a bob. She smiled ingratiatingly at him momentarily then flicked her eyes to the small wall clock. "Its just about half past five, Mr.... ah, Stone." "Oh." Daniel flushed with embarrassment. "Heh. Right, thanks." Shoving the remaining unopened letters into his jacket pocket, he waved goodbye to the receptionists - who all ignored him - and made his way out of the building and into the waning light of the outdoor world. Behind him, the old man stood up, carefully folded the newspaper under his arm, then walked off unnoticed down a brightly lit corridor, nodding only to the hispanic momentarily as he passed by. Looking at his retreating back, she then rolled her chair back to the desk, picked up the phone and dialed an outside line. It took nearly two hours to make his way back to his apartment, two hours that nearly broke his mind. The honking, whining, screeching and hollow rumblings of the rush hour traffic was nothing compared to the pure hell of listening to the frightening thoughts of hundreds of frustrated commuters and potential psychopaths. A sharp, sensible looking woman in an expensive business suit sitting behind the wheel of her mercedes with a calm and bored expression thought cold and calculating thoughts of how she would carefully pare the bones from the man on the motorbike whose back she was staring at. A beggar holding an empty hand out to the rolled down window of a passing sedan in which sat an extremely overweight woman wearing too much makeup was thinking humorously how warm her skin would be if made into a nice jacket. A man wishing he had brought his shotgun; a teenager wishing aliens would bombard the intersection with x-rays and particle beams so the traffic would ease; a balding politician wondering how to ditch his wife so he could enjoy the fruits of his recent publicity tour of the local high school. A rushing, seething mass of dark thoughts and depraved ambitions clearly spelt out the truth about the city and its occupants. A terror unlike any other Daniel had ever felt gripped him as he sat in the back of the taxi with cold sweat running down his forehead, his eyes darting back and forth. A small, disheveled woman cringed and gave wide berth to any black man she came across; images of a thick, black club and the hateful face of a laughing christ-like figure foremost in her mind. A bag lady with a wistful expression on her face tried to remember where she put the keys to her manor house. Daniel's prior perceptions of the city - a place of freedom, opportunity, kindness and goodwill - were as dust in view of what he now experienced. Visions of depravity and destitution, sickness and vampiric health. Peddlers and hookers, pimps and pushers - samples of the dark heart of this particularly rotten apple lay beneath the thin crust of civility - and Daniel could hear every one of them. He barely noticed when the taxi pulled up outside his apartment building. When the driver shouted and nudged his shoulder a third time, he grinned inanely at him, paid him, staggered up the steps through the door then leaned gasping against the wall as his eyes adjusted to the reduced lighting. His landlord, Fred Newmeyer, was thankfully nowhere to be seen. Fred was a nice guy, a rarity amongst the landlords Daniel had met, but his nose was longer than most and always seemed to find itself where it didn't belong. The elevator and the hallway leading to his apartment were also thankfully absent of people - even the dull roaring that hinted at the maddening clamor awaiting him outside was becoming more subdued. His apartment was as he expected - thick dust, a small forest of junk mail and several wretched things lying in a bowl on the coffee table. There was no way he could deal with all that right now, but he had to make some effort to assure minimal comfort. After a quick flurry of activity to clear up whatever areas he felt necessary for basic living, sleeping and eating, he sat down at the kitchen table, pushed aside a bowl containing something that looked like a desiccated tongue, and sorted through the mail. Plenty of sales brochures of course. Some work related items that were little more than informative - Pete would have handled all that at the office. A snort of derision and a mental shrug of the shoulders later, he pushed it all in a large plastic bag to be thrown out then took the letters from Sam and the police from his jacket, which was flung over the tabletop. Okay, he thought. Lets keep chronological. He scanned through Sam's first letter again, then opened the one with the government stamp. Dear Mr. Stone, First, I would like to extend my deepest regrets about the part my officers played in the events that led to your hospitalization. That unfortunate day has resulted in numerous difficulties for my department, so please forgive me for not communicating with you or those concerned on your behalf much sooner. I have been holding discussions with your company lawyer, Mr. Samuel Brooks, and we have come to an amiable understanding which I hope you will find satisfactory. John Reynolds, Deputy Commissioner of Police Interesting. Let's see... He opened Sam's last letter next. Danny, I did it! Boy, you are going to be one happy guy! I had a little 'chat' with our friends over at Police HQ, and I've won a nice little arrangement for you. You owe me big, boyo! I'll fill you in on the details when you and I have a chance to meet face to face again. All the guys at the office say hi. Get well soon!! Sam Brooks. Daniel chuckled. That sounded interesting! Looks like Sam's landed a tidy settlement. Daniel considered the possibilities momentarily but his attention soon wandered - Sam was capable, and Daniel completely trusted him. There were more pressing matters to deal with, such as how to get a grip on his newfound sens... he noticed a small slip of paper lying amongst the mail. Elaine. Damn, he thought as repressed memories flooded back. What the hell is going on? 'Shock' continues in Part IV : Physical Evidence -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+