You’ve Been Upgraded

Author’s Note: Comments and criticism always welcome at my profile.

1

Tom woke to the overhead fluorescents of a hospital ward. A stiff dull pain throbbed behind his eyes. Crisscrossing, armslotted tubes wound their way about the flickering space. He felt splinters in his shins, and all attempts to rise were stifled by shooting daggers.

The room was a barebones machine closet aired by an unshielded metal fan. Just above his head, on the cinderblock wall, Tom spied a bulky red button labeled “ASSISTANCE.” He tried to raise a hand for help, but his arms felt disconnected resting limply on the hospital bed. Tom took a breath, stretched his neck, and pressed “ASSISTANCE” with the back of his head.

After a few agonizing minutes, Tom heard a light rapping on the door.

“Mr. Osborne?” said a pretty nurse with curly red hair. Her champagne pink scrubs were form-fitting and insubstantial. Tom’s throbbing eyes jumped from her pearly platforms to her funky utility belt before finally settling on her pert, slightly sloping breasts.

“Yes,” Tom said, his voice croaking and unrecognizable. “What’s going on? How . . . how did I get here?”

“Let me check your file,” the nurse said. She pulled a thin manila envelope from its shelf. When her eyes hit the first page, her hands sprang to her mouth to cover a shocked gasp. Papers scattered on the floor. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Tom said. His heart began to race. “What is it?”

“This is wrong,” the nurse said, scrambling to reassemble Tom’s file. “Oh my god. Mr. Osborne, I’m so, so sorry. You’re not supposed to be in this room.”

“I’m not?” Tom said. “Where am I supposed to be? Wait, can I get some painkillers?”

“You’ve been placed here by mistake,” the nurse said. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I already . . . I have to . . . I’ll be right back!”

“What?” Tom said, trying to chase after her but finding his legs no longer took requests. “Wait wait wait, I need-”

But the heavy wooden door slammed shut, and the redhead’s platforms clicked into the distance. She had taken Tom’s file with her, too. Tom sighed and rested his head against the threadbare pillow and counted the varieties of pain he was experiencing. Muscles he had never even known about ached asynchronously, timing their pulses so Tom could never relax.

He tried to recall what had happened. The last things Tom remembered: Coogan’s retirement, going to Sensations after the office party, getting in Coogan’s Lambo and . . . and then what?

That was where his memory stopped. He could not even remember who else had been in Coogan’s car, but the more he thought about it, the more Tom concluded it had not been Coogan’s car at all. The old man had downed more shots than any of the juniors combined, so someone had called a cab. Only, had it been a cab? Tom remembered a limousine.

Tom was still lost in thought when the door opened and the redheaded nurse returned with two associates. Well, Tom assumed they were associates based on their similarly saucy fashion choices. The new models had black hair, but the tall and busty one let it flow naturally down the lovely arc of her back while the short but perky one had her locks contained in cute little pigtails. Tom shrugged and began to seriously consider the possibility that he was dreaming. He would have pinched himself were his arms not filled with wet sand.

“Mr. Osborne,” the redhead said. Her big green eyes swelled with remorse. “I must apologize again for placing you in this room. You were in a terrible car crash, but your employer is paying for everything. They’ve upgraded you.”

“Oh,” Tom said. “Christ, uh, where’s everyone else? Is Coogan okay?”

“Huh?” the redhead said. She and her associates seemed to be preparing Tom for a move. The black-haired beauties collected Tom’s many cords while the redhead adjusted his bed and placed a rectangular, laminated red card on a metal bedpost. “Sorry, uh, I don’t have that information. I’ll get back to you when I do.”

The nurses seemed distracted, so Tom just let them work. He had not been in a hospital in years, but he remembered things being a little different during his previous visit. For example, although the trio did not acknowledge him, they seemed very cavalier about their body language. Each seemed to take silent glee in bending over Tom and giving him ample opportunity to view their cleavage. Their fingers lingered on every touch, and they kept their shiny lips parted.

Tom would have been flattered were he not disoriented and in terrible pain.

“Mr. Osborne,” the redhead said as the trio began rolling Tom’s bed out the door and into the sterile hallway. “We’re moving you to a much nicer ward. You’ve been upgraded to CareCore’s Red Plan, courtesy of your employer.”

“Okay,” Tom said. “Uh, what’s the Red Plan?”

“You’ll see,” the redhead said, and she gave Tom a becoming smile. “It’s truly the best medical service anyone could ask for.”

They rolled Tom into the extra-wide elevator, and busty black hair pushed a button that set them on a steady ascent.

The redhead turned to Tom and took his hand in both of hers. She played her manicured nails over his palm.

“I’ll be your nurse for the rest of your stay,” the redhead said. She fluttered her long lashes, and her pale pink skin ignited beneath her spattered freckles. “My name’s Rosalie.”

2

Rosalie was the last to exit the bright lights and pretty spirals of CareCore’s patented training pod. She blinked in the harsh overheads and smiled at her classmates. Around two dozen young nurses stood in a loose semicircle facing Nurse Betty.

“Congratulations to everyone! You’re almost done with today’s training,” Nurse Betty said. “You should be proud.”

Rosalie had not been feeling especially proud, but something about Nurse Betty’s words compelled her to agree. Rosalie smiled and joined in the applause.

“Now, the last portion of CareCore’s training program is hands-on, so if I could just ask you all to follow me.”

The class shuffled after Nurse Betty, who led them into the spacious hospital lobby. Rosalie saw the sun setting on what had been a beautiful day, and she felt comforting camaraderie walking with her classmates in their tight scrubs. Rosalie had initially balked at the skimpy uniforms and stripper heels, but she was nearly done with CareCore training and could not think of a comfier outfit. She even imagined wearing it in her free time.

“Let’s see,” Nurse Betty said, scanning her clipboard. “Rosalie, Samantha, and Veronica, you girls are with me. John, Paul, and George you’re with Brian . . . uh, let’s see . . . Billie . . .”

Once Nurse Betty had divided the groups, she took Rosalie, Samantha, and Veronica into the first ward. The other groups scattered about the complex. Years of training and nursing school had not prepared Rosalie for the sprawling interconnectedness of Ruby City General.

“All right, now comes the fun part,” Nurse Betty said. “This is our first stop.”

Nurse Betty opened the door to a long room housing three patients. Two middle-aged men and one young man were lying on their overly wide beds, watching *Jeopardy!* on the mounted widescreen. They looked up when Nurse Betty entered with her charges.

“Hello boys,” Nurse Betty said. Putting her hands on her shapely hips and smiling radiantly. “Everything’s fine. We’re just doing some on-the-job training.”

The three men gave noncommittal grunts and returned to the game show. Nurse betty spun around and addressed the trio with a blinding smile.

“Now, who remembers how many colors there are in the CareCore insurance program?”

Rosalie’s hand shot up and when Nurse Betty acknowledged her, she said, “Three!”

“Very good, Rosalie,” Nurse Betty said. “And what are they?”

“Green, Blue, and Red.”

“Excellent,” Nurse Betty said, and her smile somehow grew wider. Rosalie wondered if her face would get stuck, or burst. “Someone was paying attention.”

Rosalie beamed.

“Now,” Nurse Betty said, looking over the trainees and tapping her lower lip with her pencil. “Samantha.”

“Yes, Nurse Betty?”

“Do you see Mr. Wilson over there?” Nurse Betty said, pointing with her pencil to the closest middle-aged man. He was bald as an egg with a short black mustache and a series of melting chins. He looked up for a brief second when he heard his name but then returned to the television. “What color is his card?”

“Green, Nurse Betty.”

“Very good,” Nurse Betty said. “Now, show me what level of treatment patients receive at the Green level.”

For less than a second, Rosalie saw a disquieting change sweep across Samantha’s petty face, but it was swiftly replaced with a beauty pageant smile. Samantha sashayed her shapely ass over to Mr. Wilson’s bed, fixing on the card until she reached the patient’s side. She leaned over, giving him a generous view of her cleavage, while she checked his vitals. For his part, Mr. Wilson seemed more interested in *Jeopardy!*, but he gave Samantha’s plump cleavage an appreciative glance.

“Your vitals are good, sir,” Samantha said. “But your stress levels are a little high.”

Mr. Wilson gyrated his chins affirmatively.

“Let me just . . .” Samantha reached under Mr. Wilson’s off-white patient shift. “Help you relieve some of that tension.”

Rosalie saw the outline of the man’s cock as Samantha began jacking it.

“Uh . . . what’s going on, Nurse Betty?” Veronica asked.

Rosalie shot her colleague a confused look. It seemed perfectly obvious to Rosalie. Mr. Wilson was receiving Green-level care. CareCore’s patented training pods had given them their instructions. Nurse Betty had explained as much to Veronica, but the poor girl still seemed confused.

Nurse Betty sighed and said, “Okay, well, Veronica, why don’t you just watch for now. I think you might need to repeat your time in the training pod.”

Veronica seemed too confused to mount any resistance.

“Now,” Nurse Betty said. “Rosalie, do you see Mr. Heath over there?”

Rosalie looked to the young man. He was mouthing answers to the “Double Jeopardy!” round: “*The Helicopter Spies*, Alex.”

“Yes, Nurse Betty,” Rosalie said. “His card is blue.”

“Sharp as always, Rosalie,” Nurse Betty said. “Show me what level of treatment patients receive at the Blue level.”

Rosalie tripped over to the patient. She looked at the blue card and knew exactly what to do. Mr. Heath was cute, in a scrawny, nerdy way, with broad-rimmed glasses and shaggy, charcoal-tinged hair. Rosalie heard Mr. Wilson grunt his way to completion, and then Nurse Betty congratulated Samantha.

Rosalie took Samantha’s performance as a challenge, so she forced herself to focus on Mr. Heath, who continued mouthing answers: “*Once in a Lifetime*, Alex.”

The redheaded nurse lightly stroked Mr. Heath’s skinny arm and leaned over to check his vitals. She smiled down at him when she saw he was poking into her cleavage with his spotty face.

“How are you doing today, sir?” Rosalie worked each word around in her mouth until the simple question dripped with desire.

“O-okay,” Mr. Heath said. He seemed to gain some confidence and said, “Better, now.” He spoke into Rosalie’s cleavage, “*How Much Longer*, Alex.”

Rosalie smiled and sat on the side of the patient’s bed. She crossed and uncrossed her legs and leaned into him.

“Well, your vitals seem good, but there’s just one thing I’d like to check.”

“W-w-what’s that?”

He opened his mouth to answer the next clue, but Rosalie planted a warm kiss on his lips and swallowed the answer. Rosalie kissed around his spotty face and ran her tongue around Mr. Heath’s ear, whispering so only he could hear, “Your cock.”

Mr. Heath started stuttering another answer, but Rosalie put one finger to his lips and then tip-toed it down his off-white gown until it reached his crotch. *Jeopardy!* was no longer on Mr. Heath’s mind. Rosalie had been prepared to feign amazement at Mr. Heath’s size, but the truth was he actually did have quite an impressive member.

Not that Rosalie had any trouble fitting it in her mouth, taking it deep in her throat until Mr. Heath filled her with his yummy cream. Rosalie sucked him dry as the final commercial break began to play.

“Outstanding, Rosalie,” Nurse Betty said, stroking Rosalie’s hair as the new nurse swallowed her patient’s cum. She licked him clean and then tucked his thick prick back into his boxers.

“Thanks,” Rosalie said, coughing a little. She swirled her tongue around the inside of her mouth and over her glossy lips, trying to eat up any stray drops. She tasted blueberries, just like CareCore had said.

“Now,” Nurse Betty said, guiding the girls like ducklings over to the third man. “Veronica was supposed to work with Mr. McKenzie, but she’s gone back to the basement to complete her training.”

Rosalie looked around and saw Veronica was indeed gone. Only she and Samantha – who was still licking Mr. Wilson’s spunk from her fingers – remained.

“So, I’ll demonstrate what the Red-level of care looks like.”

“Yes, Nurse Betty,” Rosalie said in unison with Samantha.

Nurse Betty crossed over to Mr. McKenzie with practiced poise, meticulously swaying her body in just the right way to attract the man’s tired gaze. Rosalie felt a surge of envy when she saw that Nurse Betty was able to command Mr. McKenzie’s full attention. He appeared to have completely abandoned the “Final Jeopardy!” round in favor of ogling Nurse Betty’s prominently displayed knockers.

“Mr. McKenzie,” Nurse Betty said, breathing both words. “You’ve been upgraded to CareCore’s Red Plan.”

“Oh?” Mr. McKenzie said to Nurse Betty’s breasts. He spoke like he was reading a script, but nothing about it seemed forced. Rosalie sneaked a peak at his crotch and saw he had begun pitching an impressive tent. “What does that mean?”

Rosalie watched in awe. She wondered if she would ever become as skilled as Nurse Betty.

“It’s truly the best medical service anyone could ask for,” Nurse Betty said, straddling Mr. McKenzie in one smooth motion. She tossed her rich blonde hair and arced her back and moaned from the back of her throat. “I’ll be your nurse for the rest of your stay. My name’s Betty.”

3

“Wow,” Tom said as he was rolled into his new suite. He saw the sun rising over Hofstadter Tower, bringing another beautiful day to Ruby City. “This is . . . this is very nice. I don’t know what to say.”

Apparently the nurses felt the same way because they only giggled and continued situating Tom in his new room. He could see the pink tops of Rosalie’s inviting nipples as she adjusted his tubes. Meanwhile, the short but perky black-haired nurse with the pigtails made a show of bending all the way over to plug in the television.

“That’ll be all, Sam,” Rosalie said. “Ronnie, you can go, too.”

The beauties shuffled out, whispering like schoolgirls and sneaking glances at Tom and Rosalie. The pretty redhead fussed with Tom’s tubes before taking the chair next to his bed and staring at him with rapt attention.

“Mr. Osborne,” Rosalie said. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

Tom grinned nervously. Then a spike of dull pain darted from his leg and up his back.

“I could really use some pain relief.”

“Oh, of course!” Rosalie said, rushing to the cabinet across the room. “I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Osborne. I completely forgot.”

“It’s all right,” Tom said as Rosalie brought him four red-and-blue pills and a glass of water.

When Tom reached for the pills with his weakened arms, Rosalie shook her head.

“Let me do it, Mr. Osborne,” Rosalie said, and she brought the pills to Tom’s lips and slipped them in, letting her fingers stay just a second too long in Tom’s mouth. She held the glass to Tom’s parched lips.

“Thanks,” Tom said between careful gulps. “Uh, please, call me Tom.”

“Are you sure?” Rosalie said, stroking Tom’s hand. Her eyes had a strange hunger to them, and her tight little body was flush. She said huskily, “Because I’ll call you whatever you want. And you can call me whatever you want.”

“Tom’s fine,” Tom said. The drugs were kicking in quickly. “Ah . . . ah, that’s much better. Rosalie’s a pretty name.”

The two of them sat in silence for a minute, Rosalie stroking Tom’s hand but fidgeting slightly, Tom growing increasingly loopy as the pills took their course.

“Is everything all right?” Tom said.

“Huh?” Rosalie locked eyes with Tom. “Y-yeah, it’s just . . . do you need anything else?”

Tom thought about it for a second before it came to him. If he could have snapped his fingers, he would have.

“Actually, could you find out if Mr. Coogan’s okay? And anyone else who was with us. Please, it’s been eating me since I woke up.”

Rosalie sighed, and Tom worried he was about to learn of Coogan’s tragic fate. Instead, Rosalie smiled politely, and headed for the door. Tom shrugged. He wished he had asked for breakfast. You were supposed to eat with painkillers, he thought. Besides, the last he had eaten had been office party hors d’oeuvres.

Rosalie seemed a little distressed when she returned, but then Tom saw her glance at the red card hanging from his hospital bed. She became a cup of sugar after getting a good look at the card.

“Mr. Coogan is stable,” Rosalie said, returning to Tom’s side after shutting the door. Tom thought he heard her lock it.

“Rosalie,” Tom said as his nurse began stroking his hand again. Tom could hear her strained breathing, and he saw her lovely breasts heaving in her tight scrubs. “Seriously, uh, is everything all right with you?”

“Me?” Rosalie said, smiling from ear to ear. She had a very pretty smile, and Tom liked how her freckles darkened when she blushed. “Of course! Sorry if I’m a little . . . flustered. I just finished CareCore training a few days ago.”

“Well,” Tom said. “Uh . . . you could’ve fooled me. I think you’re doing a great job.”

“Really?” Rosalie said, and he saw that genuine quality come out in her luminous green eyes again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Because you see you didn’t have a red card on your bed when you came in, so I wheeled you into the wrong room because the card didn’t tell me like the training said it would, uh, but you see, I should’ve known because the pod told me that-”

“Rosalie?”

“Yes?”

“I’m fine, really,” Tom said. The drugs were pumping through him now. Tom leaned back and stared at the carved ceiling. He spoke slowly, giggling as he drew out the two words, “I’m fine.”

Rosalie stopped fidgeting and hopped onto Tom’s bed.

“Woah,” Tom said, his voice low and relaxed. He would have been more concerned were he not rolling out of his mind. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Tom, I can’t help it anymore,” Rosalie said, and she peeled off her scrubs in one trancelike motion, letting her breasts bounce freely. Apparently bras were optional at Ruby City General. “I know you said it’s okay, but I really screwed this. Please, let me make it up to you.” She rested both hands on his chest and leaned in until their faces were inches apart. “Please.”

“O-kay,” Tom said, and a dumb grin began to form on his face as Rosalie wrapped her tits around his face. He kissed and licked what he could, but his head was full of pill-soaked fluids. “You’re the nurse.”

“I’m your nurse, Tom,” Rosalie said between gasps. She pulled Tom’s shift up and over his head. Tom shivered until Rosalie pressed her warm body into his.

They kissed, and Tom tried to return Rosalie’s affections, but his body felt paralyzed in its drug-addled haze. Rosalie did not seem to mind, though, and she dipped onto his prick, sighing like no woman Tom had ever been inside of had sighed. Tom felt like he was pressing some hidden switch inside of her, releasing pent-up angst. Rosalie turned red all over as she jittered on Tom’s pole.

“They said . . . ah . . .” Rosalie cried and bent backward as Tom found the strength to press up into her. He came down just as quickly, but she followed, practically galloping. “Ah . . . they said you’re going to have to stay . . . ah . . .oh, fuck me, Tom . . . stay for . . . at least a . . . a week! At least!”