Message-ID: <44463asstr$1064599819@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <20030926025330.88135.qmail@web20507.mail.yahoo.com> From: Lazlo Zalezac X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 25 Sep 2003 19:53:30 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} John Carter I 11 (mf mmf ffm ff mm sci-fi) Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 14:10:19 -0400 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, IceAltar, newsman __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? The New Yahoo! Shopping - with improved product search http://shopping.yahoo.com <1st attachment, "JC11.txt" begin> DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes without the consent of the author. John Carter By Lazlo Zalezac Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezak, 2003 Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass Chapter 11 John left the room feeling very good about his morning spent with the children. The bookcase had arrived and they had assembled it as a team. The kids took turns on each of the jobs; one reading the instructions, one bringing the parts, one helping to hold the various parts together, and one to provide the tools when they were needed. John was the only one that used the tools. The kids had a fun time and kept correcting him whenever he was about to make a mistake. He left after it was assembled to allow them a chance to fill it with the books. A well-dressed gentleman was standing outside the room wiping his eyes with a handkerchief. His well-tailored gray suit spoke of money. He was about 65 years old or so with thin gray hair. He was a little over weight with the build typical of men his age. John asked, "Sir, can I help you in some way?" The man looked up and stated, "You must be John Carter." "Yes, I am and you are?" The man blew his nose and then put up his handkerchief. He was a little embarrassed at showing emotion in public. He answered, "I'm Fred Maxwell. I donated the bookshelf to the burn unit." John reached out with his hand, "I'm very pleased to meet you. Your generosity means a lot to those kids." The man's eyes misted again, "I watched you put it together. That was the nicest thing I have ever seen in my life. The looks of joy on their faces will live with me for the rest of my life." "It sounds a little personal for you." "You're observant," replied Fred. "Why don't you come into my room and tell me about it? Maybe I can help." Fred stood in the hall for a minute thinking about the offer. He was from a generation that didn't like to talk about their problems. He was about to refuse the offer, but changed his mind. He had lived with this for more than forty years. He answered, "It just might be time for me to talk about this." John led him to his room. Once they entered, John closed the door. Fred sat down in the single chair while John sat on the bed. Fred rested his right ankle on his left knee and sat there playing with the bottom of his pants legs. He stared at his right foot as he thought about his past. John sat there watching Fred work through his internal issues. Finally, Fred broke the silence, "I served in the army during the Korea Conflict." "Most Americans under appreciate the conditions that our soldiers experienced there. That was a tough war." John had heard many stories about that war from people that he had talked with in the past. Many Americans did not realize that the war had never ended. There were still causalities because of hostilities at the border between north and south. "Yes, it was," replied Fred. He continued, "I ... Well, I carried a flame thrower." "That was exceptionally dangerous. One stray bullet and you'd have been the one on fire." "I have not had a good night sleep since then. Every night I have nightmares. I see the faces of each and every man that I burned." Fred sat staring down at the floor lost in his thoughts. Even now, the faces of the men that he had burned floated before his eyes. It was odd, but he had no other memories of Korea. He couldn't say where he had been stationed or who served with him. John understood the inner demons that plagued Fred. Because of his sense of duty to country, he had committed acts that rocked the foundation of his moral sense. In a way, it was amazing this man had not reacted violently on his return to the states. John knew that talking would not save this man from his inner conflict. He needed to work as a means of atonement. He said, "Well, I can tell you a few things that might help you. That is, if you want to hear them." Fred looked down at his shoe getting prepared to hear the standard argument. With a sigh, he answered, "Talk away. I'll do my best to listen." John sat there for a minute and then stated, "Last year I died." Fred looked up and stared at the young man. His expectations had been a few words that he didn't do anything wrong. He had already made those arguments with himself. He knew it wasn't his fault that he had been put in that position. It didn't help. His fingers continued to fondle the hem of his pants, but his attention was focused on John. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question. John nodded and then continued, "That's right, I died. I can tell you from personal experience, that it's not bad. In fact, it is very pleasant." The evidence of shock made his voice quaver, "Could you tell me more about it?" "No, I can't. Words can't convey what I felt. Can words adequately explain the horror you feel at what you have done? No, they can't. Just know that death is the opposite of that kind of horror." This answer was not what Fred had been expecting, but he recognized the truth that some things couldn't be explained to others. He asked, "So what are you trying to say to me?" "I'm saying that the men that you may have killed are not in pain any more. They are in a different place now; a place that has no room for pain. You don't have to accept that on faith, but as fact." "I can understand that. They are in heaven now," commented Fred. Religion had become increasingly more important to him. In part, he had wanted to find solace in it from past. In part, he had reached the age where death had become more of a reality and it was through religion that he was attempting to come to grips with his mortality. "I think if you talk to the people here, you'll find the rest of the answers that you are looking for. You will find out what it is like to survive the burn and that, perhaps, will allow you to come to better grips with what you've done." "I feel like I need more than just answers." John smiled and nodded. He could understand Fred's position and his need for some sort of redemption. He suggested, "Those kids have a bunch of books that someone should read to them. I'm checking out soon and then there will be no one. A new sadness will settle in that room." Fred sat quietly lost in private thoughts. He recognized that a need that had been within him for forty years could now be answered. He slowly stood and turned to the door. With soft steps, he left the room without saying another word. John watched him leave. He smiled as he recognized that Fred was a man about to undertake a mission of his own making. It was now only a matter of summoning up sufficient courage. An hour later a very petite young nurse entered the room. She had short brown hair, green eyes, and oval face. She wore a white skirt rather than the white pants that were the most frequent garb worn by nurses within the hospital. Even with the loose over-shirt, it was easy to tell that she had very small breasts. She had a very nice smile that reminded John of Lily, the woman that had been vacationing by working as a waitress. She broke the silence, "John, I'm Susan." "Nice to meet you Susan. Are you here to collect more blood?" "Oh, nothing so bad. I'm here to give you a bath." John blushed as he thought back to the last sponge bath he had received. He had covered almost the entire hospital looking for Betsy, but no one would tell him how to reach her. He was sure this would be a regular sponge bath. He laughed, "Good, I was afraid that I'd die of blood loss if a mosquito bit me when I leave here." "So long as you die outside the hospital, it isn't our fault," laughed the nurse. She continued, "Now get undressed while I get everything ready." John sat there puzzled for a minute and then got undressed down to the hospital gown. He assumed that this is what she meant. In the meantime, the nurse had gone into the bathroom and filled the basin with warm water. John had just returned to the bed when the nurse exited the bathroom. His jaw dropped and his cock rose when he saw that she was completely naked. Her body was thin, but not so thin that her bones showed. She retained a feminine figure. Her breasts were almost non-existent, but her nipples were the twice size of erasers. He had once heard that the nipples on small-breasted women tended to be very sensitive. He wondered if it was true. She laughed on observing him in the bed. His reaction to her body was given away by the nice tent in his hospital gown. She said, "You're still dressed, silly. Now take that off while I get everything else ready for your bath." John slowly removed his hospital gown. His emotions were divided between embarrassment, desire, and reluctance. His embarrassment arose because of his extremely visible erection. His desire was rooted in the normal sex drive of a healthy male. His reluctance was rooted in his wish that it was Betsy giving him the bath rather than Susan. However, the sex drive knows no boundaries of right or wrong particularly when one is not in a committed relationship. It won out as the excitement of a naked woman fueled it. The sponge bath proceeded very normally. There were no overt sexual advances as she washed his back, legs, arms, and chest. Even when reached his groin, her touch remained professional. She had avoided directly touching his cock and balls. As soon as she finished washing him, she stated, "Well, that wasn't too bad was it?" John's erection had remained through the whole bath. In fact, it had become even harder. As she had moved around, she had given him very nice views of her body. The contrast between the view she presented him and her professionalism while bathing him had a strangely erotic effect. His voice cracked, "Not bad at all." She smiled, "Now we have to increase your blood flow. We don't want you to get bedsores." She proceeded to lightly massage him. Her touches were feather light and brushed his entire body. It sent ripples of pleasure through his body. He was moaning from desire by the time she finished. He was about to relax when she took his cock into her mouth. She started humming as she worked her tongue around all of the sensitive parts of his cock. She paid particular attention to the shaft just below the head. He couldn't believe how quickly he approached the point of no return. He blurted out, "I'm coming." Simultaneously, Susan pulled her mouth from his cock, wrapped a hand around it, and fondled his balls. The multiple changes in sensations delayed his orgasm only by seconds. He came as she massaged his balls with a soft touch. As he recovered from the orgasm, she cleaned the semen off his body. John stated, "Thank you so much. That was incredible. I've never experienced anything like it." "You're welcome." She went into the bathroom for a minute while she dressed. John was totally amazed at the quality of the orgasm he had just experienced. Relaxing, he felt happy just to lie there and enjoy the feelings. Susan came out of the bathroom fully dressed. She gathered the bathing materials and prepared to leave. She smiled, " I just wanted to thank you for helping my aunt." John asked, "Who was she?" Susan smiled, "Mrs. Sardon" John nodded as he recalled the woman. She had a panic attack at one of the major department stores in town. He had helped calm her down and get her home. It was a little thing, but he remembered that she had sent him a thank you note. He replied, "I remember. She's a very nice lady; she just doesn't like crowded areas." Susan eyes misted, "You really do remember her." John smiled, "She sent me a thank you note. I really appreciated that." Susan nodded, "She's kind of old fashioned that way. It would have surprised me if she hadn't sent you one." John sat back and looked at Susan for a moment, "You really care about her, don't you?" "Yes, she's my favorite aunt," Susan sighed. Susan worried about her aunt. The episode in the store had really upset her. That had been the latest in a series of anxiety attacks. She was afraid that her aunt would become housebound. If that happened, she had no idea how she could help her. Her hours at the hospital tended to change from week to week and she always worked overtime. She would not be able to do anything for her aunt with any kind of regularity. "And you worry about her anxiety attacks," suggested John. "Very much." "I currently rent a room from a retired woman. She doesn't get out much. I do the shopping, fix things around the house, and deal with any strangers that have to come in the house. It works out well for everyone. She has me around to take care of things and I get a cheap place to live. Her family appreciates it because they know someone is around to take care of her." Susan was thoughtful for a moment, "Thank you again. You've given me a good idea." "Well, if you need someone then let me know. I know most of the graduate students on campus and can recommend someone that would be very good. Knowing your aunt, I would suggest one of our female students. I can leave contact information with Nurse Betty." Susan smiled, "I just might do that. Goodbye, John." "Thank you, Susan," replied John. He watched as she left the room. He knew he would be getting a call from her sometime soon. After dressing, John strolled out of the room and to the nurses station. Nurse Betty was on duty. His arrival was met with a knowing grin, "Did you enjoy your sponge bath?" "Yes, very much. It is nice of you to take such interest in my personal hygiene," replied John. He knew that Nurse Betty was the one that had arranged the special treatments. He was curious about what would happen next. Nurse Betty laughed, "Just part of our service plan for heroes." "I know you won't believe this, but I'm not a hero. I'm just an ordinary guy that happens to be at the right place at the right time." "Modest too," replied the nurse. She still couldn't get over the changes in the kids in the ward. After John had returned to his room, Fred Maxwell had come to her station to talk to her about John's suggestion concerning reading to the kids every day. He stated that he was going into semi-retirement and needed something to help fill in his days. When she had warned him about the children's appearance, he had replied that he had already seen the children and that there wasn't anything wrong with them that he couldn't handle. The introductions to the kids went smoothly. He had complemented them on the construction of the new bookcase. They positively glowed as a result of his complements and now had a permanent storyteller. She knew that a hero didn't just rescue the maiden; he also made sure that she was going to be all right after he left. John had done that. John shook off the compliment as though it were undeserved, "Would it be alright if I went for a walk around the hospital?" "No problem. You might want to stop in the cafeteria though. Most people take their breaks there and you would be catching them at a good time to chat." "Thanks for the suggestion, I'll do just that." John headed directly for the cafeteria hoping that the person he was searching for would come in. He wasn't there for long before people started gravitating to where he was seated. All of them told him how honored they were to finally get a chance to meet him. He thanked them for all of their attention. Occasionally, he would mention Betsy and ask if anyone knew where she might be stationed. No one seemed to know anything about Betsy. After an hour, John was thoroughly convinced that either no one knew who she was or that they were protecting her from him in some way. He gave up and headed to his room. Stepping off the elevator, he looked around. One more day and he would be gone. In fact, it probably wasn't even a full day now. Discouraged, he walked towards his room. As he passed the nurses station, he got an idea. Stopping suddenly, he asked, "Nurse Betty, I need some help." "What's the matter?" "I'm trying to find someone and no one seems to know her." "Who?" "Betsy." "Betsy?" "Yes, the woman that was here yesterday." Nurse Betty frowned for a moment and then realized to which woman he was referring. She laughed, "Of course, no one here knows her. She doesn't work at the hospital." "Oh," replied John. He didn't know how to interpret that. If she didn't work here, then how was it that she was here to give him his sponge bath yesterday. Had Nurse Betty hired her? He didn't think that was right. "She works at another medical facility. If you want, I can let her know that you wanted to talk to her." "Please, I would appreciate it so much," replied John. He caught the look that Betty was giving him and blushed in embarrassment as he thought back to yesterday. He stuttered, "It's nothing like that. I'd like to take her out on a date." Nurse Betty just smiled and nodded. She watched him squirm. She had seen how much Betsy had wanted to be the first one to give him a sponge bath. She could see the excitement that the idea had for Betsy. The girl positively glowed as she talked about the times she had met John. She knew that Betsy would be calling him, particularly since Betsy had continued to rave about John after the sponge bath. John misinterpreted the silence for disbelief. He added, "Really. I just want to take her to dinner and a movie, maybe have a chance to talk to her." Betty laughed, "Okay, John. I do believe you. I'll give her a call." Betty turned to fill out some paper work thinking that everything had been settled. John stood there waiting anxiously. He kept glancing at the telephone and then at Betty. Betty noticed that he was still there. She suddenly realized he was waiting for her to make the call. She smiled, "John, I'll call her later. Don't worry. Now find something to do, okay?" John nodded and walked away. He went in his room and sat in the chair waiting to hear from Nurse Betty. While sitting there, he turned his thoughts to the cold fusion problem that he had been working on before leaving the lab the other day. Again, the question arose as to what geological process could produce a cold fusion reaction. He thought about volcanoes, tectonic plate movement, and other such processes. None of them seemed likely candidates. He wondered if the paper could have been wrong in that area as well. There was still the difference between the actual temperature of the earth and the temperature that the earth should have been. Something had to account for that difference. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of lunch. The nutritionist, June Anderson, brought in another great meal. Lunch was a grilled cheese sandwich served with a bowl of tomato soup. Dessert was a bowl of Jell-O. June sat down and watched as John ate. His obvious pleasure at the meal pleased her a great deal. She had been surprised when he had asked for that particular lunch; she had been expecting him to ask for a roast beef sandwich or shrimp salad. John looked up and saw that she was watching him. He joked, "If I had known that hospital food was this good, I'd have gotten burned a long time ago." June laughed, "You've got to be kidding." "No, I'm serious. I spend all of my time working or walking. I eat very simply, mostly cereals for breakfast, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, microwave dinners. You've been really nice to me and I appreciate it." June looked at him puzzled, "What kind of life do you live?" John laughed, "I basically live like a monk." "What, you live in a monk's cell?" John nodded, "You know when I was working on my master's degree, I lived in a closet that I rented in a house. I'll admit, it was a big closet, probably six by ten feet in dimension. I slept on the floor, my clothes were on hangers, and my camping gear was on a shelf. When I moved here, I mailed all of my possessions to the university. It was three small boxes." June frowned, "You're kidding." John shook his head, "Not at all. Like I said, I live very simply." June was shocked. She asked, "How do you live now?" "Oh, I rent a room from a little old lady. She's nice, but she doesn't really trust me to use the kitchen," replied John. He changed the subject by requesting, "Tell me more about your grandmother." "My grandmother?" "Yes, I still don't know who your grandmother is. You told me that I helped her, but I can't place her to save my life." "Let me give you a hint. She taught me how to cook." John sat there and thought about that. Suddenly he realized that there was one woman that was always trying to get him to come over for dinner. She had tried to bribe him with pot roast, turkey, ham, and seafood. He tried to recall the name and then he remembered, "Your grandmother is Marge?" "Yes," replied June. She added, "and one of these days you will have to come to her house for dinner. I assure you that you will enjoy it a lot." "I'm sure I would. The problem is that I usually work in the lab until late at night, so I don't think I could do that on a weekday. I usually go hiking on the weekends." June looked at his leg. She smiled, "I don't think you'll be hiking for a couple of weeks. You're getting out tomorrow, so why don't you let my aunt cook for you next Saturday?" John nodded, "Okay, I'll be there." "I'll let her know to expect you. She'll be delighted to hear the news." John finished eating. June took his tray and left the room. John sat there for a few more minutes thinking about Betsy. He walked down to the nurses station and waited for Nurse Betty to notice him. When she looked up, she asked, "What can I do for you?" He asked, "Did you call her yet?" Nurse Betty looked at John for a minute. She thought about teasing him and pretending that she didn't know about whom he was talking. She noticed the serious look on his face and decided to relent. This appeared to be very important to him. She shook her head, "I'll talk to her. Now, I have to work." John frowned, "I'm sorry to keep bugging you. It's just that I really want to see her again." "You like her?" John smiled, "Yes. I wanted to ask her out when I gave blood at the school, but I didn't have the nerve." Betty smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'll call her and tell her you are serious." "Thanks." "So what are you going to do now?" John thought about it for a moment and then laughed, "I'm going to teach the kids how to play Hunt The Bug Eyed Monsters." Betty frowned, "I hope that it doesn't involve running around." "Don't worry. It's a great game. Even kids that can't move at all can play it. They can be pilots, captains, navigators, gunners, and repairmen." John smiled, "I've never met a bunch of kids that didn't like it." "Well, don't get them too excited." John smiled and walked down the hall. He entered the kids room and sat down on the floor. The kids noticed him and formed a circle around him expecting him to read to them. Instead, he started to explain how to play a new game. An hour later, Nurse Betty looked in the room to find the kids sitting in front of him with their backs to him. One of them shouted, "Captain, the Bug Eyes are straight ahead." John stated in a serious voice, "Okay, pilot. Take us there. Gunners, prepare your weapons." The kids shouted back, "Aye, aye, captain!" One of the kids shouted, "There they are." Two of the kids started making 'zzzzing' noises. John called out to the pilot, "Pilot, avoid their torpedo's." John shouted, "Oh my, they almost got us." The kids laughed as they insulted the Bug Eyed Monsters for their bad shooting. There was lots of laughing and giggling, as some of the insults were poor. John laughed along with them. Nurse Betty smiled to herself as she returned to her desk. The kids had been smiling and enjoying the game. It was amazing to see the difference that John had made in the Burn Ward. He had done more for the kids and their mental health in two days, then the psychologist had managed in months. She returned to her desk and made a call to Betsy. <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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