© Copyright 2007 by silli_artie@hotmail.com
This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior
express written permission of the author.
A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are
not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then
again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you
should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments.
Enjoy.
This is Part 3! You might want to read Part 1 and Part 2 first!
About as ready as we were going to get; time for another Open Clinic. While we still had daylight, other parts of the world were enjoying the full moon.
“Open it up, Joe!” I called out, leaning up against a partition in the old barn. I hadn’t gotten enough sleep the last few days; this one might be rough.
Joe, my were-jackalope companion and assistant, started his wailing dance to open the Portal, his antlers gleaming in their full moon glory.
And damn if we didn’t start out with a bang! Joe hardly finished his dance when something shimmered inside the Portal.
And smacked right into the edge of the Portal, lunging at me! Croc? Lots of teeth were clear; the middle and back parts were still coming into focus, but it was trying to get to me! Not likely; that was one of the useful aspects of the Portal; nobody exited it unless they were peaceful and we let them.
Hissing, snapping teeth and whipping tail! Not a croc, or a gator, and not friendly, either!
Uh oh... “Let me guess,” I called to Joe, “Somebody’s mother-in-law?” I recalled a were-komodo dragon from a while ago. He’d been fanged by his mother-in-law, and I stitched him up. We’d talked about his mother-in-law problems.
“Pretty smart for a gringo,” Joe called out.
Mom heard that, and made a lunge for Joe, whacking the edge of the Portal again.
“Want me to send her back?” Joe suggested.
That’s what we usually did with such clients. “She want anything in particular, other than a chunk of me?” I asked Joe. Hmmm -- something piqued my curiosity as she thrashed around. Nasty yellow-green coloring, nasty temperament. Motion wasn’t right; she didn’t thrash or hatchet evenly.
“All I can tell is she’s pissed at you,” Joe replied.
“I bet she’d be willing to take you as a snack, though,” I bantered back.
“Not gonna happen...”
“Joe, is she in pain?” I had to ask.
He tilted his head a bit. She’d settled down some, looking back and forth between Joe and me, hissing malevolently, moving sideways, showing nasty teeth, partially whipping her tail.
“Left rear leg, mid-spine?” I suggested to Joe, observing how she moved.
“Those and upper right teeth,” Joe confirmed.
“Could you hold her still long enough for me to gas her?” I thought to him, not wanting to say it out loud. I thought komodos were hard of hearing, but I didn’t want to learn I was wrong just yet...
“When you want,” Joe confirmed.
I pointed to her. “Don’t go anywhere, sweetheart,” I told her, then took off for my supply room.
Got the gas anesthesia rig and one of my home-built tools, a length of plastic pipe with a plastic bleach bottle sans bottom taped to the end. I could stick the end of the bottle over our patient’s mouth/snout/whatever from ten feet away. I relied on Joe and the Portal to protect me, but used plastic rather than metal just in case our patient was not interested in participating...
Grabbed a cart as well, with trays for large were-beasts, silver-plated needles and such.
I wheeled things out and hooked them up. Nitrous, oxygen, and sevo made a good mix. Quick and effective.
Joe was getting ready as well, moving in front of our guest, his eyes glowing. She was hissing, bobbing, and showing nasty teeth. Definitely not moving easily; bilateral structural symmetry should be reflected in symmetry of motion. I put on nitrile gloves, and a pair of heavy gloves over those. Eye protection and a face shield, already wearing a fluid-proof (but not tooth-proof) tyvek jumper.
“Okay, Joe,” I told him. “Exhale, inhale, and hold it if possible.”
“Easy,” Joe replied. He sat up on his hind legs and whistled.
She swung to Joe and stopped moving, letting out a sigh imitating a slashed truck tire. I turned on the gas and stuck the bottle over her snout as she was exhaling. I saw and heard her inflate, a little ragged, and hold it...
Hmmm... Was she going to be like the crocs? When I’d done this to a were-croc a while ago, I’d learned that crocs can hold their breath for a long, long time. Only took one breath to put that chap under. Of course he’d been a willing participant in the process.
I saw reddish white roll up in her eyes after half a minute or so; she settled to the ground, exhaling, losing that righting reflex. I gave her two more good deep breaths, waiting for the tip of her tail to touch down, then turned off the sevo. That should give me fifteen minutes or so, and more important, by keeping her on nitrous, a few minutes warning.
“How we doing, Joe?” I called out.
“She’s gone,” Joe told me.
“Okay, let me in, and please, watch her tail close.”
“Will do, boss. We going to have eggs for breakfast tomorrow?”
Joe, you’re a bastard... “I promise, Joe.”
I moved in quickly. Debris, looked like avian bones, stuck in the right upper teeth.
Oh my -- the left rear leg... I felt my way down her body, comparing sides by feel as well as by sight. Left rear leg was swollen, with a lot of fluid on the joint, and along the spine. Pre-change arthritis? How old had she been as a human, and in what kind of shape? That might be it.
“I’m going to drain these joints and help them along -- how are we doing?” I asked Joe as I got what I’d need.
“Nobody home,” Joe replied.
“Good.” Using a large syringe (with a silver-plated needle, which you need to pierce the flesh of a were-beast), I drained almost 100 cc’s of pretty clear fluid from the joints. I added back a few cc’s of lidocaine (local anesthetic), a steroid, and fairy dust. “Okay, that will reduce inflammation, ease the pain, and promote healing.” Fairy dust is great stuff, and probably more effective than the steroid.
Did more or less the same along her spine. Not as much fluid, but at least it was clear -- no signs of infection. I was saving it, so I could do a culture if need be. Same medication.
Checked her eyes, rolling the right one down a bit. Lenses clear. I sprayed both with fairy dust, which would clear out inflammation in no time.
Then to the part I didn’t like, that mouth... “We still good, Joe? I can’t cook eggs without hands...”
Joe yorped in laughter. “We’re fine. Not even dreaming, and her heart and lungs are working.”
I nodded as I propped her mouth open. Gawd, what a stink! Joe was turning into a pretty good practical nurse, in spite of his attitude. Or maybe because of it.
“Yah, some avian-looking bones jammed up into her pretty teeth and gums.” Picked the pieces out; some took pliers. Irrigated the area with saline, then fairy dust.
Moved her other limbs, moved the tail. No tail reflexes yet, which was a good sign; herps anesthetize from head to tail, and recover from tail to head. Major joints seemed to work, just the left rear with problems. Hmmm...
“Joe, can you give me a good exhale in a moment here, then an inhale?”
“Say when.”
I moved the bottle back from her snout a bit. “Okay, do it.”
A really rancid exhale... I picked up another sprayer, sticking the probe into one nostril, and as she started inhaling, gave her a few squirts of fairy dust, then the same in the other nostril. “Okay, hold it for as long as we can. One more thing...” I put the gas rig back over her snout anyway.
That amount of fairy dust would act as a mild dissociative as well as promote healing.
I loaded another syringe. Fairy dust, a long-acting steroid, and thorazine, a major tranquilizer. Not enough to whack her out, just enough to take the edge off her mood for a few days...
Finding a vein in her right foreleg was easier than I’d expected. I cleared my things away, turned off the nitrous, and gave her pure oxygen. The used hypodermic needles I carefully placed in a holder to be washed, sterilized, and re-sharpened for re-use.
I shook my head. I really wanted to talk to her, or at least try. But she was going to be out for another twenty minutes or so. Recovery could take an hour.
“Joe, is there anything we can do to keep her contained and free up the Portal for more customers?”
“Chorizo,” Joe suggested.
I shook my head. It’s a local sausage. “Okay, you drive a hard bargain. You know, I’ll fix it for you if you ask. You don’t have to wait until you’ve got me over a barrel.”
He yorped back, “It’s more fun this way!”
He danced another circle a ways from the Portal. Okay, that I understand. How are we going to move her? She’s got to weigh 80 kilos. “Whatever we do, we should do it quick,” I reminded Joe. I was watching her tail for twitches, the first sign of recovery.
Joe sprouted his wings -- big leathery bat-like things. He flew over her, lowering, reaching for her with his talons. Really, Joe?
Yes, really -- he picked her up, flew her slowly to the new circle, and lowered her gently. He landed outside the circle and stowed his wings.
“Joe, I’m impressed! Learn something every day,” I told him.
“Oh ye of little fucking faith,” he yorped, throwing his head back and trilling in amusement.
I laughed too, and remembered something as I positioned a heat lamp to warm our guest. Didn’t want her to get cold; herps practice behavioral thermoregulation and lose that ability when anesthetized. “So that’s how the sheep got on top of Henson’s barn, huh?” That had been a few years ago. I’d had the feeling he’d done it, but I wasn’t sure how. But those sheep were probably only around 25 kilos each. Only! What had it been, a dozen of them?
Joe made a rude noise, confirming my suspicions.
I chuckled and shook my head. “Joe, I figured at the time you’d done it, I just wasn’t sure how! And it was a first-class stunt; I applaud you!” Every teenager in the area, and some older ones with attitudes had been blamed for that one, but there were no tracks or footprints around the barn, or the sheep pen. None. Made sense, now.
That really set him off, yorping and dancing around.
Hmmm... A thought... “Joe, just how much can you lift, for say, ten meters or so?”
He turned to me, tilting his head to the side a bit, but then straightened up and turned to the Portal. “Incoming!”
Some thing shimmered into the portal.
Joe let out a yip and ran for the hills!
Oh my. What? Where? I sighed and shook my head. Most vets... Well, in urban areas, most vets spend their days dealing with handbag terriers, overweight cats, the occasional rodent or avian. Someone who thinks they deal in exotics probably has a copy of Mader on herps, has opened it a few times, but still can’t spot calcium deficiencies in igs. Lightweights. What would they do with whatever it was that was in my Portal? I mean, after wetting themselves and running away screaming... I had Mader, both editions, and well used. I also had a lot of other books “we” use. Edith Hamilton is good. One of the best is an illustrated 11th century Arabic manuscript (al-Faz) which was translated into Latin in the 14th century. We have a “modern” English translation, and one of our group put together a very useful PDF of all three versions (no, I will not send you a copy). I had a feeling, though, that this particular customer was most likely to be found in an ancillary reference, such as Revelation, or more likely, something by Lovecraft...
And my translator has taken off for the hills... Wonderful... I extended my arms a bit, palms open and facing forward. “Welcome,” I told my guest. “How can I help you?”
My guest extended hand-equivalents mirroring my posture. A cold but clear thought entered my head: “I have pain.”
Good -- symptoms, and an ability to communicate them. My guest was about five feet tall, upright/bipedal, thin build. Feet looked reptilian/arboreal, with hands having an opposable thumb and three digits -- 2, 3, 4, 3 pattern in the digits? Again, suggesting arboreal. But light shoulders and upper arms, not the structure I’d expect for a climber. Light tan skin with maybe a touch of green? Head ... covered by a veil or something? The closer I looked, the more blurred it seemed to be; tentacles? Two eyes... The closer I looked, the more blurred the head got, and my head wobbled.
“I am not entirely of your world. You cannot accept my visage,” my guest projected.
I blinked and looked at the floor. Hmmm... Not from the al-Faz manuscript, possibly cthulhioid? “Is it safe for me to touch you? I will wear gloves,” I asked. I’d wear full protection.
“That would be prudent, and acceptable.”
“I can wear protective goggles,” I suggested. I had goggles built with fancy prism-things that worked somehow to let you see things fairly normally, except you were looking through mirrors. Very useful for basilisks, medusae, and the like.
“Those will not be necessary,” my guest replied.
“I suggest moving to one of the exam rooms.”
“Agreed.”
I motioned to the doors along the side. We’d use 1. “Joe!” I called out. “We’re in 1! Watch mom!” I moved closer to my guest. “This way, please.” I indicated the way.
I watched it move. Vestigial wings. Body motion uneven, non-symmetric, which usually indicates a problem in any beast displaying a high degree of bilateral symmetry, as this one did.
We moved to 1; I left the door open. My guest sat on the exam table, favoring the right side somewhat. I picked up a clipboard and pulled my stool closer.
“I have not seen one of your kind before,” at least not while awake, I admitted.
“Few of you have,” it responded, with cold amusement.
“Much of what I do will be by analogy and similarity to what I and others have seen before.”
“A logical course.”
So many assumptions... “Why have you come here?”
It surprised me by picking up a towel and putting it over its head. That made me feel better. “Thank you,” I told it.
“I have pain. This pain is interfering with my purpose. I need to be free of this pain. I am told you may be able to help me be free of this pain.”
Clear and concise. Okay, back to medic training for pain assessment -- PQRST. P is for presentation. “What brought this pain on? Did it start with a specific activity, or injury, or did it just happen?”
“The pain began 17 days to the past and was followed in two days by these,” it indicated with a hand to its right side. “They would seem to be linked to the pain.”
Ah, an intelligent creature this, positing a relationship but not necessarily a causal one. Next, Q is for quality. “How would you describe the pain? Sharp, intermittent, constant, heavy?”
“This pain is constant and burning. I cannot focus on my purpose.”
Okay, might have this one covered already, but let’s ask anyway, R for region. “Where is the pain? Does it travel to other areas of your body?”
“The pain has followed these,” it indicated again, “as they have spread.”
Good, interesting. Progressive development -- probably fears it’s going to go on, and S is for severity. “How severe is the pain, compared to the most severe pain you have experienced?” With adult humans, I’d ask for a 1 to 10 rating. I’ve learned that many species don’t have counting and such numeric skills -- dryads are very intelligent, but can’t count.
“This pain is very severe. I have experienced worse only once. I cannot focus on my purpose.”
Okay. Think we’ve covered T for time, but do it anyway. “And this pain started 17 days ago,” to confirm and finish the list.
“Yes .”
“I would like to examine you closer. Please let me know if I cause you pain, or place either of us at risk.”
“I will do so. Please continue.”
I scooted closer and used my light to look at its skin. Thicker, heavier than I’d expected. I touched it gently with gloved fingers; cool and dry. The indicated area had a string of vesicles, fairly small, millimeters each. Two, three branches of these in lines 80cm or so. Yeah, I could imagine the detailed anatomy. “You have other areas of these?” I asked, scanning for small scars.
“Yes. Up here.” It indicated the side of its face, moving the towel away partially.
I looked carefully, cautiously. Yah, confirmation, including a small scar in the area. I returned to looking at its flank, and back. Somewhat out of curiosity, I palpated along the spine a bit. Nominal feeling vertebrae and spinal processes, and ribs. Interesting attachment and musculature for the wings. Yes, a few small scars. No visible genitalia. Don’t know if I particularly want to know what this one eats or does for fun...
I had a tentative diagnosis, at least by analogy. Worth shit? Don’t know. Didn’t lead to much of a treatment strategy, that’s for sure. Time for my wonder-drug. Wonder if it will work? “I would like to try a medication. There is a small chance it may cause you pain, so I would like to try a very dilute sample at first.”
“Please proceed,” it agreed.
I picked up my tester, with the whore’s urine sprayer next to it, just in case. “I am going to spray this on an unaffected are first.” A light spritz on the clear left flank. “How does that feel?”
“Cool .”
“I am going to try the full strength solution now, on the same area.” I used the real thing. “How does that feel?”
“Warm. Pleasant.”
Good. That gives me one option. “I am going to spray the problem area now.” Sprayed the right flank area along the vesicles. My guest sighed and seemed to relax. It moved the towel away from part of its head again, and I sprayed that area. It replaced the towel, and seemed to relax. Its posture became more symmetric.
I held the sprayer in my hand. “I would like you to spray your eyes. I believe you should do this.”
It took the sprayer from my hand. “You must cover your eyes. I will tell you when you may look again,” it cautioned me.
I sat on the stool and closed my eyes, turning and covering them. “Proceed.”
Sounds of motion, of the sprayer. Another big sigh. “Thank you for your help. You may uncover your eyes and proceed.”
I looked up and picked up the sprayer. If my analogy, my tentative diagnosis was correct, I was worried about the virus extending to the eyes. “Remember, I am acting on deduction and analogy. In our species, we have a disease, a virus, which affects mainly the young. In the young, the virus causes small sores over the body. These sores itch, and may be painful. If they are disturbed, they may heal as small circular scars. Now this is the important part. While the sores go away after a period of days, the virus remains in nerve roots in a dormant form. Many, many years later, decades later, this dormant virus may reactivate, perhaps caused by stress. We do not understand completely what causes this reactivation. When the virus reactivates, it spreads from the nerve roots along the nerves, forming small vesicles, and since these vesicles represent inflammation along nerves, they are quite painful. By analogy, I suspect you may have a similar problem, by the location and spread of vesicles I see on your body, and the presence of small scars. Did you have such an illness when you were very young?”
“Ahhh, I have indeed come to the right person! Such an illness was common among a group of us when we were very young! What is the resolution?”
Now is when I found out what someone’s sense of humor is... “We know of no way to eliminate this virus. I can offer treatment to reduce the pain, such as what I have done. There are medications we can try, but I do not know if they would be effective for you. They might cause you great harm.”
“Eliminating the original exposure, if this is indeed the cause, would be sufficient?”
“Yes.” I remembered a colonel in the ‘stan who had a nasty case of shingles. Not a hell of a lot we could do for him, except tell him that the booze he was self-medicating with made it a lot worse. I looked at my sprayer of fairy dust -- almost empty! Damn! My guest had been very generous!
And my guest pointed a claw-tipped digit at the sprayer. “That is useful to you?”
I nodded. “Many times this and hope are all I have to offer.” Like with you.
“I understand.”
Did I hear noise from out in the main area? I hope Joe is out there... I started to get up, but glanced at my guest/patient.
He was sort of shimmering, fading in and out. Seemed to go almost transparent, the wall behind it showing through. My stomach and head lurched as I momentarily got a glimpse of its face, its eyes; I quickly looked down at the floor.
“Your hypothesis was correct. The pain is gone,” the cold thought rang in my head.
“What?” I looked up, moved closer to my guest, and shone the light on his side. The vesicles were gone! So were the old scars! “What did you do?” I asked.
“As you suggested, I eliminated the earlier exposure, which eliminated subsequent problems. Thanks to you, I am cured, we are cured.”
I sat back and sighed. More noise from the reception area?
“I thank you. I will depart from here. I will return with payment.” Shimmer, shimmer, I looked away, and when I looked back, it was gone!
I stood up and shook my head. Well, it left happy at least! I stripped off my gloves as I headed to the door.
The usual -- chaos!
At least Joe was back on scene! Mom in her circle, not moving. A visitor in the Portal, and another, holding a bag, outside it. All but mom were making noise...
“How is she doing, Joe?” I thought to him, inquiring about mom.
“Still not home, but breathing fine.” Joe seemed amused, which usually means trouble.
In the center ring... A dwarf, about four and a half feet tall, pointy ears, tufted eyebrows and ears, wearing simple cloth pants and a shirt -- one of the nice properties of the Portal is that it won’t pass man-made items. The dwarf was holding a knotted burlap sack well away from his body. The sack was moving, and yowling. The sack’s occupant was not happy, and I suspect the claw marks on the dwarf’s clothing were most likely related to the occupant of the sack, and its attitude.
The dwarf gave me a large lopsided smile. “Meine Katze ist ...” he gave the sack a shake. The contents of the sack yowled, and I thought I saw claws... “Brrroken!” he exclaimed with a wide grin.
I nodded, smiling. “And you would like me to fix it?” I asked. Think I liked this character.
He bowed a bit, keeping the sack at a safe distance. “Yes!”
The contents of the sack disagreed.
“One moment, please.”
The Portal held a medium-sized somewhat sorry looking boar, a hundred kilos or so. “How can I help you?” I asked. Had to have some level of sentience to get here.
It squealed, though, and Joe told me, “I understand him, but he can’t talk. Best I figure he has a plugged stink gland, your favorite.” More squealing.
“Nod your head, please, if you understand me,” I requested.
The boar nodded, and gave a small grunt. Guess I can trust him. Sounded like a whiner.
“Joe, if you would escort him to room 3,” I pointed to the door. Turning to the dwarf and his displeased companion, I suggested, “Room 2, please, and I will be a few minutes.”
The parties headed to their rooms, and I took a break to pee.
Damn, that last one still had me spooked -- those eyes...
Joe was sitting on the bench outside the rooms. Guess he wanted to talk. “Okay, Joe, who’s where?” I asked, sitting down beside him and putting on fresh gloves. We were being serenaded by a squealing boar and a yowling cat.
“The rabbi is in 3,” Joe told me, “and...”
“The guy with the cat is a rabbi?” I asked, not quite understanding.
“No, the one with the cat is in 4,” Joe told me.
I laughed. “So our friend the boar used to be a rabbi?”
“That’s right,” Joe said.
I laughed more and shook my head. “He sure must have pissed somebody off!”
“You got that right!” Joe agreed. “Just listen to him in there!”
Sounded like a boar squealing, grumbling.
“All he’s done,” Joe continued, “since he got here is bitch, bitch, bitch! How he shouldn’t be here, and we have to change him back, not can we, please, but we have to. I say send him back.”
“Now Joe,” I chided, “he’s come here for help. We’ll see. What gives about our other guest? Is the cat in the sack normal or were?”
“Were, and pissed as hell,” Joe confirmed.
That’s what I was afraid of. “Do I want to know? Did our friend in there do it?”
Joe nodded, not easy with a rack of antlers. “A bunch of vatos -- punks -- tearing up the countryside. They broke through an entrance, drank up some of his very old hooch, and started trashing his place. Meow.”
I shook my head and sighed. “Does our friend... Why cats? Couldn’t he have turned it into something less violent, like a parakeet?” A were-cat -- practically indestructible, and all too capable of killing people.
“Have to ask him,” Joe said.
“Might as well start there. Were, but is it left hand path?” I asked Joe.
“Don’t know on that one.”
Okay, have to use neutralized equipment to start with. I want this thing really anesthetized before I start. “Any more clues?” I asked Joe.
“The punk’s name is Pieter; you can call the dwarf Jay.”
I stood up, slowly. This was going to be a long one.
“Fixing” a male cat is a simple procedure, once anesthetized. It’s that “once” part that can be exciting -- my uncle Vern had a scar from when a “Mr. Whiskers” disagreed. The owner was astonished, as “he’d never done that before.” Six stitches -- uncle Vern had my dad put ‘em in. I watched, and learned. Never heard uncle Vern use such language before.
I swung by the supply area for a cart and the requisite trays.
As I entered the room, I was highly disinclined to trust the contents of the sack, who was yowling malevolently, announcing his intention to rip open anyone and everyone he could.
“Herr Jay,” I asked, “Do you want this cat fixed?”
“Yes!” he replied happily, still holding the sack, and giving it a little shake.
I wasn’t going to screw around with this thing. I stepped closer and took the end of the sack from Jay to judge its weight. About eight pounds. Eight pounds of pissed off, clawed and fanged fury! I handed the sack back to Jay.
Picked up a syringe from the tray and loaded it with a tranquilizer. Switched to one of my silver-plated needles. Jay was giving me a glum look. I smiled. “Silver -- this will work.”
He broke into a smile and nodded. “Silber! Ja, gut! ”
I pointed to the stainless table. “I need you to hold him down so I can put this,” I held up the syringe, “in his flank. Do you understand?”
More teeth in the smile. “Yes!”
With a bit of flailing, he did it. Jay, being a magical creature himself, was impervious to the claws. I was the only one at risk here, and I knew it! But Jay got sack and occupant stabilized and nodded his head. I prodded gently to make sure I had a flank (yowl wiggle) and did it (jab YOWL!).
I stepped back and put the syringe down. “We need to wait a few minutes for that to work. I will be back, and we will continue.”
The contents of the sack seemed to be slowing down. Good, but I’d still give it a few minutes.
Joe was still outside. I nodded to him. “Let’s go.”
The boar was grumbling, and when he saw me, his volume went up. I pulled up a stool and sat down in front of him. I glanced at my watch; I’d give him three minutes.
And after three minutes of grumbling, bitching, and whining, I asked Joe out loud, “He said anything useful?”
Joe gave a little hop to show he was amused. “No, just whining.”
Well, that really set him off! I let him go about 30 seconds before I whacked him on the snout and said loudly, “Shut up!”
He shut up! Well, almost. A little grumbling and whining, but that stopped in short order.
“I can’t change you back. You’ve already been told that. We can’t do it. Now, do you want us to address your problem, or should we just send you back?”
A brief grumble. I glanced to Joe. Joe said, “Bitch, bitch, bitch. No respect. You know the rest.”
“And why should we help you?” I asked him.
He shut up.
“What hurts, and for how long?” I asked.
Some mumbling. Joe translated, “His bottom, right side, a couple of weeks. He’s had it before.”
“Let’s switch,” I told Joe. He moved around in front of the beast, and I moved to the side. That way Joe could control him if need be, and I imagine he would.
I put a gloved hand on the thing’s back, and he squealed!
“Shut up!” I hollered. “Joe?”
The beast shut up. Joe’s eyes were glowing. Okay, situation under control.
Standard procedure, don’t trust anyone. I picked up a pair of silver-plated clippers and snipped some hair/bristles into a petri dish. Moving away from our guest, I sprayed the clippings with fairy dust. Nothing, which was good. If I snipped some of Johnny’s hair (he’s a vampire) and did that, it would burst into flame!
Moved to the back of the beast, lifted the tail. “Going to do some trimming,” I told Joe. “Hold the tail up, please.”
Swing a light around and clipped hair shorter. Yeah, as reported. Sprayed the area with an alcohol/fairy dust solution as an antiseptic/anti-inflammatory/analgesic. Trimmed a little more, sprayed a bit more. “Looks simple, Joe -- here we go.”
Put some sterile lubricant on my left thumb and index finger, picked up some gauze 4x4 pads in my right hand. It’s easiest to apply pressure on the gland if you stick your finger in the anus a bit, which I did, thanks to Joe holding our guest still. Now it’s hold the gauze and apply pressure, gently at first.
“He doesn’t like it,” Joe told me.
“Neither do I,” I replied as I drained the plugged sac. But I was containing things carefully, so I wouldn’t stink up the area too bad.
“He really doesn’t like it,” Joe emphasized.
“Almost done with this side -- he in pain?” I asked.
“Not really, just whining.”
The last bit of drainage was clear fluid, which was good. The other side was a little plugged up as well. Emptied that, checked the bad one again, felt around for polyps and to let my guest know who was running the show...
Gauze and gloves went into a plastic bag, which I sealed. Put on fresh gloves and sprayed the disinfectant mix again. Probably stung. Too bad. Picked up a syringe and loaded it with fairy dust and a steroid. Did that more or less sub-scap.
“How we doing, Joe,” I asked as I rubbed in the injection.
“He’s not happy.”
I moved more in front of our guest. “Well, rabbi, Joe and I are happy, so if you’re not, it must be something you brought to the party, hmmm? Seriously now -- I drained both sides, and gave you an injection to control pain and bring down the inflammation. You look a bit dehydrated -- increase your fluid intake, and consume more fiber. If this doesn’t clear up, please come back and we’ll take more aggressive steps. Do you understand?”
“Oh, he understands,” Joe told me. “And he wants to trash the place and spray it with shit.”
I nodded, glad Joe still had him under control. “I expect you will recover quickly. Live well.” I looked to Joe. “Walk him out and return him, please.”
Joe’s feet turned to talons; I picked him up and put him on our guest’s back, then opened the door.
Joe marched him to the Portal, hopped off, and with a rude noise, sent him back.
I was checking mom. Her temperature was good, and she was getting a little tail reflex back. It was responding when I poked at it with the pole, but the tip was still on the ground. Half an hour or so.
“Thanks, Joe,” I told him as I changed gloves and my tyvek top. “Let’s do a cat.”
“You know, they’re just going to grow back,” Joe muttered as we walked back to our clients.
“What?” I asked. “His testicles? They’ll grow back?”
“Yah, for him, a few months, a year maybe, once he settles down and accepts it,” Joe told me.
I sat down on the bench outside the room. “Explain, Joe. I don’t understand.”
Joe hopped up on the bench; I moved back a bit so he didn’t put out one of my eyes with his antlers.
“It’s part of the change,” Joe explained. “Before I was changed, could I shag all night long, run for miles? No, I was an old broken-down malnourished brujo...” He shrugged, then perked up. “And when I was first changed, I hurt, still! Bad knees, bad back, stomach troubles, missing teeth... But somewhere along the line, I figured out I wasn’t a man any more -- I was a jackalope! And once I realized that, damn, that’s what I was! A healthy jackalope! So once that vato in there gets it through his thick skull that he’s a cat, he’ll be a healthy cat, get it? They’ll grow back. Comprende, mi hijo?”
I smiled and nodded. “Joe, thank you. I’ll fix you chorizo any time you want, even if it does give you the runs... So you think that’s part of mom’s problem as well? She hasn’t accepted that she’s a komodo, and once she does, she’ll be better?”
Joe tilted his head to one side a bit. “Yah, that’s part of her problem!” He gave a yorp of surprise.
I stood up. “So, Joe -- you think you can explain that to her when she wakes up? Should be a few minutes. I’ll take care of business in here.”
“Me?” Joe said, sitting up straighter.
“Yes, you -- you understand it better than me. Don’t know if she wants to listen, but you can try.”
He yorped in delight, head going back, antlers clattering against the wall behind him and almost pushing him off the bench. “Si!”
I shook my head and went to take care of ... what? Guess it’s a cat.
The sack was horizontal on the stainless table, and Jay was petting it gently. Occasionally it emitted a spaced-out growl.
I set up the gas anesthesia rig, and the restraints. Explained to Jay what I wanted him to do -- get the head out of the sack and hold it in the mask until we were sure it was anesthetized. Then I’d intubate and restrain the bastard, and do the snipping.
Just like painting, the prep work takes longer than the main deal. I gave it the deluxe package, trimming the claws and vaccinating the beast. Finished off with a tranquilizer that would last a day or so.
After a minute on pure oxygen, I removed the breathing tube.
“Herr Jay, once he wakes up, you can take him home,” I started out.
Jay shook his head. “I should asleep take him,” he said.
“Why?” I’m hesitant to release any critter when it’s still unconscious.
Jay nodded. “I have ein verzauberter ...” he gestured with his hands, “collar, a magic collar of Silber made. This collar will be much easier on him to put sleeping, yes?”
I nodded. “This collar will help you control him? I am very worried, Herr Jay -- this animal to humans could be very dangerous. It could kill.”
Jay nodded soberly. “As a human, he already has,” he barely whispered. “But with the collar, he will a good Katze be.”
I raised an eyebrow in question.
Jay broke a smile once more. “With the collar, he has no choice.”
“They will grow back,” I told him, imparting the wisdom I’d gotten from Joe.
Jay looked more wistful. “Ja, in time... But this is a good thing... When that happens, we will know he has accepted his place.”
“Good,” I agreed with him. I started taking off the restraints.
As we put him back in the sack, Jay said, “Not good, but the best we can do, ja?”
I nodded, agreeing, as I peeled off yet another pair of gloves.
Jay held out a hand. We shook.
Then he broke into a full grin again.
Uh-oh...
“Und trei more we have! Three?” he asked.
I looked up at the ceiling and sighed overly loud, then looked at him and smiled, “Bring them!”
Jay cackled and took off for the portal, vanishing as he stepped through.
I looked to our ancillary Portal; Joe was sitting outside it, eyes glowing faintly. Mom was inside (good!), body up off the floor, tail tip up and moving. “How we doing, Joe?”
“Getting there...”
“Hey,” I told him, “any of her enemies she hasn’t outlived, she can eat!”
Joe yorped in delight. “She likes that!”
Guess she did -- she looked at me and hissed, whipping her tail.
“Send her back whenever, Joe -- we’ve got three more vatos gatos coming in!” I headed off to clean up and prep.
Next two were easy. The summer I was fifteen... It seemed I’d always been helping dad or Vern in their practices. The summer I was fifteen, they put me in the midst of things for one of their regular cat-fixing clinics. I was nervous at first, but under their tutelage, everyone survived, and from then on I had a place on the assembly (or is that disassembly) line. Hell, at fifteen I was as tall as Vern, had good hands and eyes.
Last one -- I’d cleaned up, reset and prepped, and was leaning against a partition out by our Portal. Mom was gone, and Joe was nowhere to be seen.
Jay reappeared, sack in hand -- it looked like he had it by the throat. It was yowling and hissing like mad, clawing at his arm with the front paws, and Jay was holding the writhing rear legs, one of which had gotten through the sack! “NOT HAPPY!” exclaimed Jay with a tight lipped grin.
We hurried to the room. I was quick but cautious with the premedication, and flipped the gas on as soon as I put down the used syringe. I put the mask over the burlap-bagged face, pressing carefully, keeping my skin out of reach. It still took a seemingly long time for the contents of the sack to go limp. And when it did, we held the mask in place for a while, just to be sure. It had shredded part of the sack and one of Jay’s sleeves. But soon we had our guest restrained and intubated, and thereafter quickly relieved of some tissue. Got to be careful trimming claws, particularly for the first time. I needed the styptic pencil on one.
“This was the most frightened; the youngest he was,” Jay told me as I cleaned up.
“Take good care of them,” I told him, extending a hand.
Jay gave me a strong hug. “Thank you for your help. They will good Katze be.”
I walked with him back to the portal. With a wave he vanished.
Joe was sitting up on a table looking amused. When I frowned (tiredly) at him, he gave me that tilted-head wiseass look.
“Okay, Joe, what now?”
“Oh, just some folks in your conference room who want to talk,” he said.
“Talk?”
“Some family thing,” he said with a shrug.
I sighed. Great, I get to be counselor for who knows what -- teen minotaur angst? “Okay, thanks. Let me know if we get any more.”
“Will do, boss!”
I paused to wash my face and hands. The cold water felt good. I need to get more sleep before these things!
I straightened myself up, walked into the conference room, and ...
Was grabbed by two large, strong, furry hands. I saw yeti, a number of them, as a blindfold was put over my eyes and tied tightly.
Questions from a female, demanding to know about the female yeti I’d treated a while back.
I sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. I told them that confidentiality is at the core of medical treatment; I would not discuss the treatment of any patient without their consent.
That went over about as well as I thought it would; I was a little surprised I got the whole speech out. The one holding me shook me and the other one demanded, “Tell me!”
When the shaking stopped, I answered simply, “No.”
Very strong grip on my arms. Didn’t think it would end this way, some how. A colleague died a number of years ago; he made the mistake of calling a mantikhoras “imaginary,” and the beast took umbrage, shredding him into little pieces.
I got yelled at, and shaken more. I stood my ground, speaking quietly. The louder she got, the quieter I replied.
My inquisitor’s tone changed, softened. I was put in a chair, a strong hand on one shoulder suggesting I remain there. “I am her mother,” she told me in a substantially gentler and quieter tone.
I nodded. “You have a strong, healthy daughter,” I told her.
“She sought your treatment?” she asked.
“Yes, she did. But any details you must get from her.”
“We have discussed it.”
“Then you know all there is to know,” I replied.
She laughed softly. “You won’t discuss the matter?”
I shook my (still blindfolded) head. “The relationship between doctor and patient is a confidential one.”
“Ah, but was your relationship only as a doctor?”
Okay, things are making a little more sense... “I am a doctor. I cannot do anything that would violate a patient’s trust.”
“Ah, but you are also a man...” she suggested.
“And your daughter is beautiful. But she came here seeking medical treatment. That is what she received, and all that she received. For me to do otherwise -- would violate the trust she and others, such as yourself, place in me. I can’t do that. When I am treating patients, I am a doctor.”
“But maintaining that distance, that separation, isn’t easy?”
“Some times it is very difficult,” I agreed. “And at those times it is important for me to focus on what my patient needs.”
“What she needs, or what she wants?” she offered quite suggestively.
I sighed an shook my head. “That’s when it’s especially important to be the doctor! Quite often the short-term desires of the patient and what’s needed for the long-term are quite different.”
“So you are willing to disregard the short term to achieve a long-term result?”
This was getting quite philosophical! Or was it? “Not disregard, but put into perspective. Quite a number of the patients I see don’t want to be anywhere near here! What they want is to get the hell out of here!” And in the case of those cats, after shedding blood, mine... “But I treat them as professionally, as courteously, and efficaciously as I can.”
“And after that treatment?”
Geez, she doesn’t give up easy! I raised my hands; a large hand pressed down on my shoulder. “There is a therapeutic space,” I gestured. “This space must remain inviolate. Patients must have complete confidence and trust that while they are in that space! Yes, there is life outside that space. But that boundary, in space and in time, must be distinct. There must be separation, a clear separation, between that therapeutic space and the rest of life. These boundaries can be hard to discern, and to maintain, but it is something we must do. I must do.”
“And so in light of the long term, we must some times do things which may not be appreciated in the short term?” she asked.
“Yes, exactly.” I think we’re getting somewhere.
Sound of folks moving around. Motion near me, warmth, a scent?
The blindfold came off, and in front of me were a beautiful pair of full, furry yeti breasts. Hanging between them was a crystal on a silver chain, little white flowers in the cleavage behind. The crystal caught the light, sparkling. The chain moved, the crystal moved, the light moved, drawing me in.
I fell into the crystal, a soft voice in the distance drawing me deeper and deeper. My eyes closed and I nestled into softness. I spoke with someone. Yes, she was beautiful. Oh, I know what she wanted, and yes, what I wanted -- but the time and place were wrong. Would I like to...? Oh yes...
Naked, surrounded by soft fur, joyous moans encouraging my thrusting, my head held between soft mounds, mouth searching for a nipple, hands pushing on my hips, coming so intensely, filled with a new, soft scent, rocking and being held, drifting off...
“Hey, doc!”
“Hey, come on, wake up!”
Someone shaking me, I blinked my eyes open -- Johnny?
“What... Why are you here?” I asked, pulling myself to sitting up. I was naked, on the futon in the conference room, my clothes folded neatly on the chair next to it. “What a trip...” I mumbled. Do yeti shed? Doesn’t look like it.
Johnny laughed. “You can say dat again, doc!”
Johnny is a good friend, and a vampire. I gave him a questioning look.
He pulled up a chair and sat down. “Joe called -- he was worried when da ladies started making noise, sounded like roughing ya up. So I came a runnin.”
I sighed, again. “I was worried for a bit too, Johnny.”
“Dis is serious, doc -- little flowers? Ya remember any little flowers? Dey woulda put ‘em between their tits.”
I frowned, thinking. “Little white ones, with a touch of blue?”
Johnny nodded. “Not pink ones?”
I shook my head. “Don’t remember any pink ones. Don’t remember much, after the crystal...”
“Crystal? Tell me!”
“A little crystal, on a silver chain -- couldn’t take my eyes off it. A wild trip.”
“Voices go soft and far away, all dreamy like?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
He nodded. “Dat was a dwarf crystal -- didn’t know dey did business wit dwarves. Dat’s hokay. More serious questions, doc -- da one before, you taste her snatch?”
I raised an eyebrow, but Johnny and I have been through a lot together. “Nope, wanted to though.”
He grinned at that. “Oh yeah... How ‘bout her tits? Suck on her? A taste, a mouthful?”
I closed my eyes, trying to remember. Damn, I was so hungry for the ones tonight... “Think I just got a taste, if that. Why?”
“And tonight -- dey do anyting but take you for a ride? Tits, snatch?”
I pulled on a sock. “Just took me for a ride, as far as I remember. What’s going on, Johnny?”
He sat back, nodding, thinking. “Hokay... Joe call, and I came as quick as I could -- I talked wit ‘em before dey took off.” He grinned at me. “Whatcha tink of your mother-in-law, hey?”
“Are you telling me I nailed my mother-in-law?”
He laughed. “Nah -- a sister-in-law, and dey put a condom on ya, dey wanted a sample for ... hers, herstomine compatibility...”
“Histamine?”
“Ya, dat’s it. Some kind of test.” He grinned again. “I tink ya passed, doc. You always been good at tests, right?”
I chose to ignore that. “So tell me, Johnny! For a while, I thought I was going to end up like Doc Vargas!”
Johnny frowned, shaking his head. “Nah, yeti leave bigger pieces.” He tossed his head back and laughed, showing his fangs. “Ya got a lot to learn, doc. First off, yeti is what you’d call a matriarchal society. Dames run tings.”
“I got no problem with that,” I told him.
He laughed again. “Good ting dat, doc! Ma wanted to be sure you didn’t do anyting hinky wit her little girl, and see if you’d make a good hubby for her. We talked. Her little girl got da hots for you, doc. I told her she’d have to look real hard to find better den you.”
“Thanks, I guess. What next? Why all the questions?”
“We worry about ya, doc... Yetis got some tricks; didn’t know dey had dwarf stuff. Gotta talk to dat bunch... You get a mouthful of yeti milk, you do whatever she want, like stallion! Put dat old sheep-shagger Al to shame, make Joe envious!”
“Sorry I missed the opportunity...”
He chuckled. “Oh, you get your chance, I bet, and soon -- you taste her snatch, though, dat’s better, but you do dat, and you are hers for life. Got dat, doc? For life. But we talk, and I don’t tink dey let you do dat till da time it’s right.”
I shook my head. “Sounds like it’s pretty well lined up. I can think of worse predicaments.”
Johnny smiled. “Yep. Sophira, she not real happy about it, but she sez she’ll wait.” He shook his head. “I hope she don’t get the chance.” The look he gave me was concerned, sad, maybe tired.
“What is it, Johnny?” I asked, bringing the medical persona back to the fore.
“Doc, you’re good. You’re a good friend. I also talked to da Gatekeeper, he dropped off something for ya... He...”
I gave him a questioning look.
In response, he hung his arms out at his sides, making three-fingered hands and widening his eyes.
I knew who (what) he was talking about -- I shuddered.
And Johnny laughed! “Doc, dey give me da creeps! And dat’s why you’re so special doc, why we worry ‘bout you -- any ting dat comes in here, you help! What dey did, what dey could do, you don’t care, you help! Were-rat what spread black death across Europe, vampires what ... had a lot of fun, Gatekeeper who could destroy da whole damn word, doc -- you help ‘em all!”
I nodded. It’s what I do. Cash, checks, and credit cards, no poultry or livestock please.
“Doc, you humans are so ... ephemeral, so fuckin ephemeral. You, you doc -- you do so much good, and you gonna be gone in da blink of a fuckin eye! Ya got a lot a friends, doc, but bunches of us, we selfish -- we don’t wanna let you get away. Yeti, dat’s da right path for you, doc. Go live wit dem, make more yeti, wake up one morning and you one too. Yeti doc, you be around for a long time to help.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Ya’d make a lousy jackelope, even Joe agree on dat. An I don’t know about us, a vampire. Don’t know how dat fit wit your head. But I tell ya, doc -- if it come down to it, if it gets dat close, Sophira will take you. We won’t let you die, doc. Even dat Gatekeeper, and he give me the creepies, doc, he’s a friend now, an watchin’ for ya.”
Whew! Quite a speech from Johnny... “Johnny, I guess I’m honored... I think I’ve got a few more years left...”
He nodded, leaning forward. “Ya do, doc, but to me, or Al, it’s not a long time. Some of us, we tink long term.”
And I guess I should, as well, right? “Okay, Johnny. Guess I should as well. Anything else? Anything I need to do now? You need anything?”
“Nah, doc -- I’m doin’ good. Doin’ better now I know you okay.”
He stood up. I stood up as well, only slower. I looked at the clock -- not even three in the morning! I’ve got a few hours to go!
Johnny saw me looking, and I guess, the look on my face. “Go check out what da Gatekeeper left ya -- I told him to put it in yer lab. Take care, doc -- I’m gonna catch da late shift!” He vanished in a puff of slightly sulpherous smoke.
“Joe? Joe!” I hollered, heading through the main area by the Portal back to my private lab. Didn’t see him. Didn’t see any potential clients, either, so we must be doing okay. Stopped to take a leak and wash up again. Could have let me snooze a bit longer...
Leaving the loo, I glanced at the Portal, just in time to see it shimmering...
Too late to run -- a large female yeti appeared in the Portal.
She didn’t step out. “Doctor, I’d like to apologize if I may,” she said.
I definitely recognized the voice... At least six and a half feet tall, still shapely, most definitely female, and feminine. I’m picking up on some of the patterns -- younger, they’re pure white. Older, it’s not like oxidation in furs, they take on a silvery sheen. She was naked except for a cloth bag, the strap on one shoulder. Gloriously naked.
“I accept you apology. It seems we were talking past each other.”
She chuckled, and indicated outside the portal with a wave of her hand. I nodded, waving with my own. She stepped out.
“My office?” I suggested. She nodded, and I led on.
She sat on the futon, taking up most of it. I pulled out a chair, sitting to the side. She was gorgeous -- I felt like getting on my knees and worshiping her, losing myself in her.
“I want to apologize for our behaviour earlier,” she said.
“I accept. I think I understand. Johnny spoke to me.”
She nodded, smiling. Perfect looking teeth from what I could tell. “I spoke with him as well. You have an extremely varied set of friends, Doctor, and ones who feel very protective of you.”
I got the feeling Johnny may have used some strong language with her... “I hope he was polite,” I offered, not likely.
She chuckled, confirming my suspicions. “He was forthright. And so was I, and that’s why I returned. Doctor, my daughter is very much interested in you. We are very much interested in you.”
“So Johnny suggested.”
“Doctor, I hope you will forgive us. I...”
“If you’ll call me Bob, and tell me how I may address you.”
She nodded. “Please call me Moira for now. When you visit, we will teach you different forms of address.”
“And when will that be?”
“You’re interested?” she asked excitedly.
“The way Johnny talked, the two of you had it all planned out.”
She shook her head, sighing. “It’s a lot to ask, Doctor ... Bob. But we’ll see. As I mentioned, my daughter, you can call her Jen, is very interested in you. She would like to get to know you better.”
“The feeling is mutual,” I said, trying to be polite.
“Indeed... Perhaps in a week and a half, she could visit for two or three days, if you could spare the time?”
I nodded. “I can clear my calendar -- would Sunday through Tuesday work?” I asked, picking up the calendar.
She reached over for it. Her fur was so soft. “Yes, that would do fine.”
I put a note on the calendar. Probably should block Wednesday to recover... “You’ll let me know what to stock up in terms of food and drink?”
Moira nodded. “We were thinking of sending her older sister Kal to take care of that.”
I nodded. “I’ll set up the extra space in this building so we won’t be disturbed.”
“That would be wonderful. Bob, I won’t deceive you. We expect Jen to come back pregnant -- that’s certainly what she wants. If she does, and you agree, we’ll send Kal later, perhaps in two months. And we would like you to come visit us in three or four months, and again later on...”
“Am I permitted to see the birth of our sons?” I asked with surprising emotion in my voice.
Moira sighed, smiling. “Oh of course! That may be on short notice, though. We need to talk to another of your, ah, friends, Joe, on helping work the Portal for you. You’d really like to be there?”
“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it, if it’s permitted, of course. I ... I almost feel as if I’d be abandoning them, though. When would I come to live with you?”
“You’d consider that!”
“Yes, the way Johnny talked, I’d join you after a few years, living with you, and later, well, really join you.”
“That would be a dream come true for many of us, and I think, many of your friends. But it must be your choice, and it must be an informed one. It should, and can, be made over time.”
“I agree.”
“Oh, I’m so glad I returned! Please thank Johnny and Sophira for me, if I don’t see them first!”
“Sophira talked to you as well?”
“Oh yes, and she...”
“Halloo!!!” came the call from out by the Portal.
We both headed for the door. I bumped into Moira, and she threw her arms around me, hugging me to her, then letting go of me and backing away, laughing, to let me pass.
My dwarf friend was standing in the Portal.
I waved him through. “My friend! How are the cats? Are they awake?”
He nodded, smiling, then came up short (quite literally) as Moira stepped to my side. He bowed deeply and formally, speaking to her in what sounded like a very formal dialect of German. She replied, bowing a little. They spoke more, laughing. I thought I heard “Katze” and “Tochter” in there...
He turned to me. “I have to make payment come; this will take only a moment, please...” He took a piece of parchment out of his tunic, and a piece of chalk. The parchment had a design on it, which he traced onto the concrete floor. He drew and annotated it in an unusual and precise manner.
“Step back please, noisy and bright it may be,” he warned us.
I took two steps back. Moira stepped to my side, partially blocking my view. I tried moving, but she put a big arm around me. Okay, I get it. Besides, she smelled so good, and was so soft...
More like a twinkling and a pop, but the drawing he’d done on the floor vanished, and in the center of where the design had been was a small cloth bag. He picked it up and handed it to me. “Thank you again, Herr Doktor ,” he said with a bow. He and Moira exchanged pleasantries. He stepped back into the Portal, and with a deep bow, he was gone.
I held the cloth bag; something in it, something light. Must be man (dwarf?) made, or he’d have brought it through the Portal. Interesting...
Moira chuckled. “You have very interesting friends...”
“You’ve met before?”
“Him? No, but we have mutual acquaintances.”
I nodded; so Johnny thought.
“Where were we?” she asked.
“Indeed... Shall we?” I indicated my office again. She nodded, and I headed back. She reached for the bag she was carrying, and followed me in.
“Doctor?”
I turned, and almost ran into her. She stepped closer, sweeping me into her. Drawing me closer. I saw the white flowers nestled between her breasts, and that’s where she drew me, enveloping me.
I held on to her, taking in her scent, and the scent of those flowers. Soon I was drifting in her embrace, her voice joining me from afar. We may have talked, I’m not sure. I wanted to feel her weight on top of me -- she moved us, and it was glorious, being surrounded by her, holding and being held. I wanted her nipples so much, but she held me and rocked me, telling me it wasn’t the right time for that. Instead she held me, rocked me, and sang me to sleep.
Weight on my chest again, different...
“Hey!”
I opened my eyes to Joe sitting on my chest. I was on the futon, covered by a blanket.
“You owe me eggs and chorizo!” he reminded me, leaning over nose-to-nose.
“Yah, okay. What time is it?”
“A little after seven. I let you sleep, lightweight.”
“Thanks, Joe -- hope you had fun last night.”
He yorped in amusement. “More than you, gringo!” He hopped off and headed for the door.
I sat up and rubbed my face. I had fun, too -- and survived another Open Clinic.
END of Part 3
Rev 2007/06/06
Open Clinic 3 -- Return Visits
By silli_artie@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www