Yoon Ji-ah: Hospitalization (Part 2)
The patient uniform was thinner than I'd expected. The cotton fabric felt soft against my skin, but without any underwear beneath it, that single layer was all there was.
The Y-shaped slit at the front of the pants gaped open with every step, threatening to expose everything inside, so I tugged the hem of the top down as far as it would go to cover it. It was no use. 'It' was still half-erect, pushing up against the thin cotton, and the sensation of the fabric brushing my glans felt even sharper than before. It was worlds apart from the thick lining of my training pants. Every step made the cloth lightly graze the tip, sending tremors through my inner thighs.
I draped my damp training pants, hoodie, and padding over a chair in the corner of the room. As I folded the pants soaked with Cowper's fluid, the wet lining peeked out, and I hurriedly covered it with the padding. I made a mental note to ask Althea how laundry worked here. Handing cum-stained clothes to a succubus nurse— the very thought filled me with shame.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced in the mirror. There stood a perfectly ordinary 21-year-old woman in light sky-blue patient garb. Aside from the bulging outline at the front of her pants, she looked just like any college student admitted for some illness. I closed my eyes, opened them, and walked to the door. Knock knock.
"All dressed."
My voice came out smaller than I'd intended. After a brief pause, the electronic lock disengaged with a click, and the door slid open.
Lavender and warm milk scents wafted in first. Althea stood there, holding a small tube of ointment in one hand.
"Oh, it suits you so well."
Althea smiled as her eyes scanned me from head to toe. It was a lie. No one in the world looked good in a patient uniform. But her voice was so naturally warm and affectionate that I nearly blurted out "Thank you" on reflex.
"Since you have bruises, I brought some regenerative ointment." She held up the tube. "It's mana-based, so it speeds up healing quite a bit. I'll apply it for you myself."
Myself.
"Ah, it's okay! I can do it my—"
"The bruises are on your inner thighs and lower abdomen, right? Hard spots to reach evenly on your own. And if I infuse a bit of my mana while applying it, it'll absorb much faster."
I had no excuse to refuse. Or rather, I did, but my mouth wasn't quick enough to form it. Althea was already inside, the door shutting behind her. Click! The lock engaged again.
"Lie back on the bed. Keep the top on, just pull the pants down to mid-thigh."
More undressing. I'd already shown everything to Han Seo-yeon earlier, so I should've been desensitized, but it felt even harder in front of Althea. Han Seo-yeon had been cold and clinical—I could rationalize it as 'medical procedure.' But Althea was warm. Stripping in front of someone warm felt more humiliating than in front of someone cold, and I couldn't figure out why.
Or deep down, I knew. A cold touch was treatment; a warm one was—
I cut the thought short and lay back on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under my back. The ceiling fluorescents glared harshly. With trembling hands, I untied the drawstring of the pants. As I slid them down to mid-thigh, the skin compressed by tape for a month came into view. Purple and yellow bruises spread wide across my inner thighs and lower abdomen. Red friction marks striped the spots where the tape had been ripped away.
And there, amid the bruises, 'it' lay half-erect across my stomach. Not fully rigid, but swollen and engorged, with Cowper's fluid beading at the glans tip. I covered my face with both hands. Maybe blocking it out would make the shame less unbearable.
"Oh my..."
Althea's voice flowed out low, laced not with surprise or disgust, but pity. "You endured this all alone until it got this bad..."
I heard her pull a chair to the bedside. Her body heat drew near, warming the air by my left thigh. The ointment cap unscrewed, and a minty scent filled my nostrils.
"It might feel cool. Don't be startled."
The moment the warning ended, soft, hot fingers touched my inner left thigh. The clash of cold ointment and warm skin made me flinch instinctively, legs trying to clamp shut—but her hand was already settled on the bruise.
"Nngh..."
A moan leaked through my lips. The ointment seeped into the bruised skin with a cool sensation, and atop it, Althea's fingers rubbed slow circles, oh-so-gently. The pressure was soft, calibrated not to strain the injury—a professional touch. But the problem wasn't the pressure; it was the location. Inches from my groin, on my inner thigh. Each movement of her fingers had her pinky grazing perilously close to 'its' base.
"Relax, Ji-ah. Tense legs won't let the ointment absorb properly."
Relax? In this situation?
Her fingers traced the bruise's edge upward to my lower abdomen—right beside 'its' root. As the ointment-slicked digits pressed softly over my pubic bone, heat flared deep in my pelvis, and 'it' visibly twitched. The half-flaccid shaft began angling upward, stiffening.
"It's okay." Her voice brushed my ear, soft and soothing, like a lullaby. "Just a natural reaction. There's a lot of mana clustered around here—it's responding to the ointment's mana."
I knew it was a lie. Or maybe not. But 'natural reaction' wasn't enough to absolve my shame. I felt disgusting, getting hard from a nurse's touch while she applied ointment. Yet beneath the disgust, something else squirmed.
Each stroke of her fingers sent that warm, soft contact delving under my skin, along nerves deep into my pelvis, as if brushing my dual prostate. Maybe it wasn't imagination. If mana flowed from her hand, reacting medically to my prostates—
"Now the other side."
She finished the left and shifted to my right inner thigh. Fresh ointment squeezed out, cold gel landing on the bruise, followed by hot fingers. Soft, precise circular massage. Fingers skimming right by my groin. I gripped the sheets, unable to keep my face covered. If I didn't clench my hands, my hips might buck on their own.
"With wounds this bad... no magic circle engraving today."
Althea murmured as she worked, utterly calm even as 'it' stood rigid between my legs, pointing toward my navel with Cowper's fluid drooling in threads like it was discussing the weather.
"I'll book it for tomorrow morning. Han will do it herself."
"Y-yes..."
I barely managed a reply, my voice thick and wet. Her fingers swept over the last bruise. A final even spread of ointment—but as she lifted her hand, her fingertips grazed the outer side of my balls.
It was an instant. Intentional or not, I couldn't tell. But that brief contact made my balls twitch and contract, and I bit down hard to swallow a groan.
Althea wiped the ointment from her hands with a tissue and stood, looking down at me. Her purple eyes slowly traced from my face to my lower abdomen. The gaze lingered a touch longer than before. Her lips curved faintly upward—or maybe I just wanted to believe it.
"Pull up your pants. Best not to cover the ointment for about 30 minutes while it dries, so I'll give you the rundown in the meantime."
With shaking hands, I hauled the pants back up. The thin cotton draped over 'it', outlining every detail starkly, but there was no hiding it now. Leaning back against the bed, I watched Althea point to the wall device.
"This is the Nurse Call. Press the red button, and it connects straight to the nurse station. If you're in pain at night or things get unbearable, hit it anytime."
Unbearable. Did she mean pain... or something else? Her expression gave nothing away.
"Meals." She pulled a small card from her patient uniform pocket and handed it over—a meal schedule. "Early to mid-treatment, you eat at the B1 Cafeteria yourself. It's a mana-balanced diet, higher calories than normal since mana condensation takes a ton of energy."
"I have to... go to the cafeteria myself?"
"Yes. The other patients eat together too." She nodded. "Later stages, once magic circle condensation ramps up and outings get tough, we'll deliver to your room."
Eating in the cafeteria with other patients—in these pants with the hole, 'it' liable to poke out. My stomach churned.
"Oh, and." Althea sat on the bedside chair again, facing me. Her knee brushed the mattress lightly. "I'll drop by outside treatment hours too. Free time, meals—I'll come check on you, so you won't feel alone."
She'd drop by whenever. No matter what I was doing, this woman could open the door anytime, breasts swaying. The no-masturbation rule suddenly felt very real.
"You sleep alone in your room, so no worries there." Her voice softened further. "I won't come in at night. Unless you hit the Nurse Call."
Alone at night. Relief washed over me. A tiny flicker of disappointment brushed past too. I shuddered at feeling it.
"Rest up today. It's been a long one." She rose, gently brushing my bangs from my forehead. Her fingers grazed my skin, sending tingles across my scalp. "Magic circle at 9 AM tomorrow, so up early. Breakfast from 7:30—I'll wake you."
Tomorrow morning, she'd see my sleep-rumpled face when she opened the door. What state would 'it' be in? Without fail since the onset, it stood raging every morning wake-up, tenting my pants like mad.
"I'll guide you to the cafeteria for dinner later, Ji-ah."
Althea smiled, heading to the door. Her silhouette narrowed at the waist under her cardigan, flaring at the hips, filling my view. She glanced back before opening it—droopy eyelids, purple eyes, that smile. Something more lurked there. A knowing look, like she saw right through me.
"If it's too much, don't hold back—hit the Nurse Call. Got it?"
The door shut. Click.
The room plunged into silence. Only the low hum of the air conditioner filled the walls. 'It' still stood firm. Over 30 seconds since Althea left, no sign of softening. Lavender lingered at my nose, and warmth remained where her fingers had trailed my inner thighs.
The cotton pressed lightly on my glans tip. My breath hitched. I gripped the sheets. The Nurse Call's red button glowed faintly on the dim wall.