Adventures in Home Health Care
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Public Health Care free porn video
Public Health Care
By Jacquie Windsor
Chet, Lardo and I drove downtown to party with a group of chicks that we'd
lusted after for months. Boffo idea except for one thing... What began as a night
planned for the deflowering of pretty young things turned into my living heck.
"Ooo-oo," I grunted, holding my stomach. "I think I must have rabies or
something. My intestines feel like they're imploding."
"You do look ill," agreed Lardo.
"Hey-maybe we oughtta stop here at this clinic and get you something for
that," offered Chet, steering the 4-by-4 into a tree-lined parking lot.
"God, I hope I don't need surgery or nothing," I groaned. "That wouldn't be
good considering the whiskey we just drank."
The clinic occupied a modest concrete building with small windows and
scarcely lit from the boulevard's streetlights. I stumbled in increasing discomfort,
without much assistance from my pals, towards the frosted glass entrance.
Bleary-eyed, I pushed open the door, holding my guts and seeking out a nurse.
The door nearly swung shut in Chet's face.
"Hey-look at this sign," he said, nudging Lardo out of earshot.
"Says 'Clinic'."
"No-the little letters underneath-"
Inside, a hefty woman in a stiff white outfit glared at me from behind a
counter. I thought she could have lived off her fat for a whole winter or
something. She squinted at me menacingly, as though she could read my mind.
"Over on the gurney," she hissed, waving me towards the wheeled cart along
one of the walls.
"Huh? You don't even know what's wrong with me!"
"As if I don't," she snarled.
Before five minutes had passed, a pair of burly female orderlies appeared,
strapped me in place on the cart, and drove it quickly into an operating room. A
moment later a big ugly woman in a surgical mask stalked quickly to my side,
raised her hand and drove an anaesthetic needle into my butt, right through my
jeans.
"Ow," I thought...then...calmly...slipped...****
Outside still, my two half-drunk friends debated over the meaning of the tiny
lettering on the door.
"What's it say?" asked Lardo. "I can't read shit that small."
"It says 'CLINIC - of the Criminally Insane Anarchist Feminist Lesbians',"
Chet replied.
"God-think we should do something?"
"Naw," said Chet. "He'll be fine."
What the hell? I woke up, still strapped to the gurney. No pain, though. Must
have got operated on. Feels OK. I tried to sit up, but the straps held my arms
down. Something brushed into my chin when I made the effort, though.
I looked up, opening my eyes as wide as I could bear, to find out what had
bumped into me. I saw nothing there, excepting a pair of enormous naked
breasts protruding from my chest.
"Hey!?" I squealed, in high-pitched feminine voice.
My horror increased. The brown-tipped nipples wobbled all over the place as
I squirmed, screeched, and panicked.
Well, that was probably just plain stupid. I sure attracted company in a hurry.
Four enormous male orderlies burst through the operating room door.
"Help me," I shrieked, as one of them proceeded to strip the single sheet
away from my body.
"Agnes was right," grinned one of the men to another. "This one looks almost
exactly like Tundi Horvath."
"Shit yeah," agreed his buddy, already beginning to shed his uniform.
The two others were in the process of attaching straps to my ankles, looping
long cords to them through rings in the ceiling, and pulling on them in order to lift
my legs up into a wide "V".
"Can't we shut her up, though?"
They were all soon naked, and quite ignorant of my predicament.
"Oh yeah," said one, "I always dreamed of screwing Tundi Horvath with a bag
over her head."
At once he produced a sack, which he proceeded to fit over my squirming
head, muffling all of my futile protests. A pair of rough hands began to squeeze
my breasts and I felt a finger between my legs. It appeared to go right into me,
ensuring my worst fears that the surgery was complete in all regards.
Unable to see my fate, I could only await the inevitable as a larger, blunt
object nudged up to my genitals, then forced its way inside. It felt at first like a
Thermos bottle or something, threatening to hurt me, but as he began to move in
and out, I became more relaxed and-truthfully-rabidly horny!
I guess the worst thing about being surgically transformed into Tundi Horvath
isn't so much my insatiable desire to be fucked-it's that I never know who it is
because of that stupid bag they always put over my head!
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