Hospitalization (5): Under-the-Table Treatment
Althea returns carrying two trays. Mixed grain rice, soybean paste soup, braised tofu, spinach namul, chicken breast steak. It's a generous portion.
She sets the tray down in front of me. "This is a mana-balanced diet. It looks like a lot, but you have to finish it all. Mana condensation takes a ton of energy."
I pick up my chopsticks. My hands are still trembling faintly, but I'm starving. All I've had since this morning is one triangle kimbap.
I scoop up a sip of soybean paste soup and put it in my mouth. It's warm and familiar. My eyes heat up again. It's not the soup making me tear up. This one sip of warm broth feels like it's about to crumble the walls I've built after this endless day.
Across from me, Althea cuts into her chicken breast and watches me eat, her purple eyes flicking between my face, chopsticks, and mouth. Sometimes her gaze seems to drop below the table, but I don't have the courage to check.
I take two more spoonfuls of soup. I can feel my empty stomach filling with each warm gulp sliding down my throat. Skipping lunch and just that one kimbap for breakfast has my body lunging at the food reflexively.
As I chew the rice, I glance across. Althea is cutting her chicken breast into small pieces, spearing them with her fork, and slipping them into her mouth. Her lips aren't large, but I can see them softly wrapping around the fork as she eats. I drop my eyes back to my tray.
I reach for the braised tofu, but my chopsticks pause. Something's been nagging at me. It might be a stupid question, but the very fact of this woman eating a meal in front of me clashes with everything in my head.
"Um... Nurse Althea."
"Yes?"
Althea sets down her fork and looks at me. Her purple eyes smile softly.
"Don't succubi... only consume semen?"
I regret it the moment it's out. Talking about semen in the middle of the cafeteria while eating lunch. But Althea doesn't flinch. She just gives a slight ah of realization and smiles.
"That's a really common misconception."
Althea lifts her water glass for a sip, then wipes the corner of her lips with the back of her hand as she sets it down.
"Consuming semen through creampie is... well, like a special treat. For humans, it'd be like beef at Chuseok?"
Special treat. Beef. So my semen is beef to her.
"Normally, we eat mana-infused meals like this. The food here is all mana-balanced, so it nourishes me too."
Althea points to her tray. Same menu as mine, but way more rice.
"Nursing takes a lot of energy, and my body's on the bigger side, so I eat a good amount. You don't run into succubi outside much, right?"
Althea picks up some spinach namul with her chopsticks and asks.
"Yeah... only on TV. News or documentaries."
"That's why there are so many misunderstandings. Like we only live on semen, or touching us steals your mind."
Althea shrugs lightly. Her breasts shift subtly under her cardigan with the motion.
"Well, our pheromones are pretty strong... but it's not mind control. Just a little dizziness?"
A little dizziness. Is that what it was when her pheromones in the elevator made it throb wildly, flooding the condom with Cowper's fluid? Then what's wrong with me?
I scoop another bite of rice. The mixed grains are savory. Maybe it's the bright cafeteria lights and neutralized air, but the pheromone density feels lower than on the 4th floor ward. It has settled to half-mast, hanging out the Y-slit of my patient gown. The weight on my thigh is still unfamiliar, but focusing on the meal keeps my mind off it somewhat. Only the condom's slight pressure on the tip reminds me of its presence.
As I lift the soup bowl for another sip, my eyes naturally scan the cafeteria. In the corner table, I spot the patient who was with the succubus nurse at the serving counter earlier. A woman with her hood pulled deep over her face. Wearing the same light blue patient gown as me, eating quietly alone.
Actually, not alone. A nurse sits beside her. Short silver hair, pointed ears, succubus in uniform. Slimmer and more slender than Althea. I can't see her expression. On the table, one hand props her chin. The other hand is out of sight.
At first I think it's on her lap, but the patient's chopstick-holding hand trembles faintly. The chopsticks clatter against the bowl. Her shoulders twitch irregularly.
My gaze drops below the table. The cafeteria lights are bright. Shadows pool under the white table, but the angle lets me see.
The nurse's hand is between the patient's thighs. The patient's cock—pulled out through the gown's slit—lies half-erect on her thigh, and the nurse's slender fingers tap lightly along its shaft. Playfully flicking the skin with her fingertips.
Tap. The patient's shoulder jerks.
Tap. She bites her lip hard.
The nurse, chin propped, gazes at the patient's face and says something. Too far to hear, but her lips move. Her fingers don't stop.
Tap. Tap. Light and leisurely, rhythmic.
The patient sets her spoon on the tray. Her hand grips the table edge. Her head bows forward, and a thin, trembling breath—or maybe a moan—seems to leak from under the hood, audible even from here.
No, I can see the moan through her eyes.
The nurse's finger flicks hard once at the frenulum under the glans. The patient's hips buck and slump on the chair. Her rice bowl slides across the tray with a clatter.
The nurse smiles faintly at the reaction.
I stare blankly at the scene, soup bowl still in hand. My own hand shakes, making the broth slosh at the rim.
Is that 'stimulation therapy'? Treatment happening right in the cafeteria with everyone eating around them. Am I going to end up like that? Althea's fingers between my thighs while we eat—
Heat surges in my lower abdomen. It twitches on my thigh, lifting its head. The subsided erection swells again, the tip trapped in the condom throbbing as it congests. The sensation is vivid.
I need to look away. I know I do, but my eyes won't budge.
The nurse's fingers now stroke slowly up the shaft from base to tip. A tiny sound escapes the patient's lips. So small it should drown in the cafeteria's hum, but I hear it. A tremor from deep in her throat, unable to hold back.
"Ji-ah?"
Althea's voice startles me; I whip my head around. The soup nearly splashes over my hand.
Althea watches me. Fork set down, her purple eyes peer gently into my face. She knows exactly where I was looking.
Her eyes flick toward the corner table, following my gaze, then back to me.
"You've stopped eating."
Her voice is soft. No teasing tone. But the corner of her mouth curves faintly upward.
"Ah, no! I just zoned out—"
"That's Nurse Eun-ha."
Althea doesn't cut me off, just layers it on naturally.
"Her patient needs stimulation maintenance during meals, so she provides light contact even at mealtime."
Light contact. Flicking a dick with her fingers while feeding her lunch is 'light contact'?
"After the magic circle activates, patients need to maintain a consistent level of arousal for smooth mana condensation."
Althea takes a sip of water and adds,
"Especially during meals, when mana flow diverts to digestion, some patients require supplementary stimulation."
A rational, medical explanation with solid reasoning. It must all be true coming from an expert. But that patient can't even hold her bowl steady; rice grains scatter from her shaking spoon. Her knuckles are white gripping the chair, breaths leaking from under the hood.
Is this really treatment?
"Ji-ah hasn't had the magic circle engraved yet, so no stimulation during meals."
Althea says. The word yet catches in my ear. Yet means soon.
"Eat before the rice gets cold. Mixed grains harden when they cool."
Althea's hand reaches across the table and taps my tray lightly. Like a mom urging a kid to eat.
I pick up the spoon and chew, but the taste is gone. In the corner of my vision, the corner-table patient tilts her head back. The nurse's hand seems to move faster under the table.
I turn to look at Althea's face. Her drooping eyes, smiling softly.
Rice sticks in my throat; I gulp water desperately.
On my thigh, it stands fully erect, pointing toward my belly. I feel the Cowper's fluid building in the tip condom, adding weight.
Althea's purple eyes linger on my face. Reading me. She knows about my flushed ears, trembling fingers, and what's happening under the table.
Her smile deepens just a touch.