Chapter Text
My head pulsed with a dull throbbing pain. I could feel each heart beat resonate throughout my skull. I forced my eyes open, but my vision was blurry, unfocused, with lights blurring together and particulates floating across my vision. I close them again, squeezing my eyelids tight to blink away the tears that are starting to form. When my eyes open once more, I take in the sight around me. The ceiling above is smooth drywall, painted a soft blue and dotted with fluffy clouds. The walls are similarly calming and for a moment I wonder if I'm in a hospital, but then the wooden staircase in the corner catches my eye. The throbbing in my head has begun to calm and the faint sound of a fan or air conditioner reaches my ears, no longer competing with the sound of my heartbeat.
I push myself into a sitting position, feeling the soft sheets against the palm of my hand. Even the bed I'm laying on is soft and comfortable. I don't know where here is, but whoever put me here had at least some thought to my well-being. The reassuring thought helps to quell my mounting anxiety, but too many questions are left floating around my head for me to sit and patiently wait for their answers. I swing my legs out of bed, gritting my teeth against the weakness in my limbs and let my bare feet touch the cold concrete below. Just as I'm about to try my luck at standing, my head snaps towards the creaking sound of a door opening at the top of the stairs.
My breath catches in my chest as a visceral sensation of fear freezes me in place. My eyes are laser-focused on the top of the stairs, waiting for whatever horrifying mad scientist or kidnapper is about to march down them. All my earlier reassuring thoughts flee in the wake of mounting terror. However, no monster descends down the stairs, instead it's a petite woman with dark auburn hair and a gentle appearance. She's wearing a soft, cream-coloured sweater and a pair of tight jeans and in her hands, she's carrying a tray with a steaming bowl and a plastic cup. Despite her harmless appearance, my pulse refuses to settle.
"Oh, thank goodness!" She beams, skipping down the stairs with a wide smile, "You're finally awake. Here, I made you some soup and juice, you must be starving, and you'll need to keep your strength up if you want to heal."
She places the tray on my lap and starts fussing about me without giving me any chance to get a word in edge-wise, "Hmm, your temperature is still a little warm, but manageable. No signs of bruising either. How are you feeling, any nausea? Headaches? Can you see okay?"
I'm taken aback by the barrage of questions and the nonchalance with she brushes past why I'm here. I gently pull her hands off of me and push her back a step.
"I feel fine," I say a little more roughly than intended, "What am I doing here though? What happened?"
"Oh dear, you must have hit your head worse than I thought," She mummers, her whole demeanour filling with worry, "Well, I'm not too sure what happened to you, but you were laying on the side of the road when I found you. It looked like someone had knocked you out cold, took your phone, wallet, even your shoes if you can believe that! I couldn't just leave you like that, you were already hurt and who knows what else might have happened, so I brought you back here."
"Right... I'm sorry, but why would you bring me, a total stranger, back to your house and not just call an ambulance?" I probe.
"Oh yes, I suppose that must seem quite silly, doesn't it? Well, first off, I'm a registered nurse, so I wasn't worried about you dying in my care; plus, that means I help people when they need it! Also, you only had a bump on the head, maybe a concussion, nothing serious enough to need a hospital and I didn't know if you had insurance for an ambulance ride. The last thing I'd want is for your night to get even worse with unexpected medical bills for something an Advil could take care of," she rambles on, explaining her reasoning.
The more she talks, the more I can feel memories slowly drip back. I was walking home late after an overtime shift. I remember taking a short-cut and hearing footsteps behind me, and then... nothing. I can't believe I got mugged. That's the kind of thing you're supposed to hear about, not experience for yourself.
"Well, thank you for being a Good Samaritan, but I really should be getting back home now. I wouldn't want to intrude on your hospitality any longer than necessary," I explain as I try to hand the still-full tray back to the mystery nurse.
"Oh no, you can't do that!" She exclaims, her voice rising up an octave, "You haven't touched your soup yet. You really need to eat something before you should try walking around," she fervently explains, pushing the tray back into my lap.
The mention of how weak I am makes me realize just how light-headed I'm feeling. Getting some calories in me probably is a good thing, but something about her tone made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight. I cautiously brought a spoonful of soup to my face and gave it a sniff. It's chicken noodle soup, looks homemade too. I realize how silly I'm being, I'm not going to be able to sniff out if she drugged the soup, and if she wanted to drug me, she had plenty of opportunity while I was unconscious. I'm just being paranoid. I eat the spoonful and am taken aback by the way the flavour explodes in my mouth. It's the most delicious thing I've had in a long time. I dig into the rest of the bowl, not bothering to even try to talk.
I finish off the soup, even licking the bowl clean and already feel much better than before, "Thank you for the soup, it was delicious," I compliment with a smile.
The nurse blushes, hiding her smile behind her thick locks of hair, "Aww, thank you, but really it was nothing. Just something I whipped together."
Uncomfortable silence follows for a beat while she stares at me with those piercing blue eyes of hers, stopped when I clear my throat, "Well, once again thank you for everything, but I really should be getting back home now."
Her cheerful expression drops, and her eyes widen, "No!" She squeaks out, "I mean, no you shouldn't. Not yet at least. You might still have a concussion. You really should stay here a little longer, just the night, so I can observe you for symptoms."
My heart starts beating quickly again. Her voice is full of concern and her words sound harmless, but for some reason what she said puts me on edge as if she was threatening at gun-point. I try, unsuccessfully, to shake off my paranoia before responding, "Thank you for the offer, really, but I'm sure I'll be okay. I need to get back home so I can cancel my debit cards and things like that."
"O-oh, right. That makes sense, but do you have someone back home who can take care of you? With a concussion like yours, you really shouldn't be alone in case something goes wrong."
"Well, I don't live with anyone, but I really do need to cancel-"
"You didn't have a phone either when I found you, how are you going to call the bank to cancel your cards? Gosh, you don't even have a pair of shoes! It's already so late, just stay for the night and in the morning, I can drive you straight to the bank. Surely there's nothing important enough it can't wait until then?"
I flounder, trying to think of a reason why I can't stay, but she's won the argument. I could demand she let me go, but after how nice this nurse has been, I don't want to threaten her with the cops or anything like that. I can wait one night. Everything will be fine.
"I guess you're right. I would really appreciate a ride home tomorrow morning. Thank you," I say, resigned.
Her smile is back in a flash, "Of course, we can leave as soon as the bank opens, I promise!" She beams, smoothing out the blankets around me and fluffing the pillow, "Until then, you really need your rest, so lay down. I'll be back shortly to keep you company."
A few hours have passed. The nurse set up a chair next to the bed and a deck of cards and we've spent most of the night chatting and playing go fish. Now that we've gotten to know each other a bit better, she's actually pretty fun to be around, but that might just be because she laughs at all my terrible jokes. If you ignore the concussion and the mugging, it's actually one of the better days I've had in a long time; despite that the uneasy feeling in the back of my head never fully went away. I stretched my arms back with a yawn set aside my cards, suddenly realizing how tired I am and how late it must be.
"Welp, it's about that time, I think. I'm about ready to doze off," I announce.
"Oh, already?" she asks, sounding disappointed, but continues, "No, you're right. It's late and you need to get your rest. I just..." she trails off, "I really enjoyed tonight Jackson, do you think-"
My heart starts hammering in my chest, droning out the rest of what she had to say in a buzz of white noise. She called me Jackson, my name. I never told her my name. We talked about a lot, but not that. She never asked me, and I was too damn awkward to ask what to call her other than 'the nurse'.
"How do you know my name?" I breath, barely able to form the words.
"What do you mean silly? You must have told me," She offers, her voice still sweet despite the tinge of confusion.
"No, no I didn't."
"Are you sure? I could have-"
I cut her off, before she can make up more excuses, "I'm fucking positive. How the hell do you know my name?"
Her expression gives way as her eyes widen, growing watery and worry invades her voice, "I- I don't know. I must have seen it on your ID."
"My ID got stolen," I whisper, fearing gripping me fully as I inch away from her, taking note for the first time that she's between me and the stairs.
"Jackson, this isn't important, okay? Just drop it, alright?"
I'm at the edge of the bed now. I can't get any further away without dropping to the floor and she keeps leaning in closer, "No no no. Did you steal my wallet?"
Her expression relaxes, the tears that were building up gone in an instant as she takes on an expression of almost indifference, "Jackson," she warns, her voice turning frigid, lacking any of her characteristic warmth, "Drop it. Please."
"No! Fuck this! Fuck you! This is insane. Was it you who mugged me? Did you knock me out and kidnap me you crazy bitch!"
She screams in response, loud and primal. She cuts herself off by tucking her head into her knees, turning the scream into a wracking sob. For a moment I almost forget about my situation as I'm overcome by worry for this psychopath. I slowly inch one of my legs out from the blankets and as my toes meet the cold concrete, her head snaps back up to meet my gaze. Her eyes are red and wet, but she wears a snarl of fury.
"I. Am. Not. CRAZY!" She screams at me, like a crazy person would, before taking a deep breath.
Her expression softens, her fury giving way to annoyance, and her voice grows cold, "Why did you have to say all of those hurtful things Jackson? Couldn't you have just left it alone. We were having such a nice night, but a simple slip up and you pounced on me like that? Way to tear a girl down," she says with a weak chuckle, "It's okay though. I- Get the fuck back in bed, don't you fucking test me!"
I pull my legs back under the covers with a jolt. So much for slipping out of bed unnoticed. Not that I had much plan beyond that. I doubted I could beat her to the stairs, and even if I did, the door was probably locked in all honestly. But what was the plan now? Hope she doesn't kill me? That wasn't a very good plan. There had to be something I could do.
"Don't worry Jackson, all hope is not lost yet. There's still a backup plan. You just have to be good and listen to me, can you do that?"
I stared blankly at her.
"I said can you do that!" Her voice boomed, at the edge of a scream, with the slightest hint of hysteria.
"Ye-yes. I can be good, I promise."
Her smile was back in an instant, her eyes sparkling with pride and excitement, "This is perfect then! We can be together after all, isn't that exciting?"
Be together? I... I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. It has to be better than her planning on harvesting my organs or cutting off my head to keep in her freezer, but it had a sense of 'permanence' that was worrying, "Y-yeah," I let out weakly, not sure what else I could do but play along right now.
She let out a giggle at my response and placed a gentle hand on my chest, "Now, just lay back down and let me take care of everything, okay? You won't have to do anything..." she breathed as she climbed onto the bed with me and ran her hand across my chest.
She pulls the covers back from the bed and straddles my hips. Then she takes a hold of my wrists and crosses them above my head, holding them in place with one hand. Everything felt surreal, just a few minutes ago we were laughing and playing cards and now I didn't really know what was happening. It wasn't until she leaned down and pressed her lips against mine that I realized I was going to be raped. I never thought that would happen to me, I'm a guy after all, it's just not something that happens. Except it is happening now, isn't it? I felt a tear roll out of the corner of my wide-open eyes while this woman, whose name I still didn't know, forced her tongue past my teeth. I just laid there and let it happen, too blank to do anything to stop her.
It wasn't until I felt her cold fingers slip past the waistband of my boxers that reality came crashing down and my fight or flight responses kicked back in. I bucked my hips, trying to get her hand away from there, pull my hands apart, anything. Emphasis on tried; I was still weak from earlier and she was stronger than I gave her credit for, but it made sense if she dragged me all the way here on her own. I wasn't going to stop that easily though. I kept thrashing, more to delay what was coming than real hope I could knock her off of me.
"Mmmm, that's a good boy Jackson. Don't make things too easy for me, I want to earn it," she whispers into my ear before biting the lobe softly. Her hand continues down my pants and before long I feel her cold fingers wrap around my still-soft cock. We both stopped moving at the contact of skin.
I looked up into her eyes, too scared of how she might react to say anything.
"What's wrong? Why aren't you hard? I thought you wanted this? Did I do something wrong?" She works herself up, worry and fear entering her eyes even has her hand slowly begins working my shaft.
I open my mouth, fully ready to let her know just how much I don't want this. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding, and I could get out of this completely un-raped still. Before I can get anything out, she continues on.
"Wait, I'm being a bit silly, sorry. Look at you, you need things rough. I need to earn your hardness, not just expect it. Let me do better Jackson," she says with a smirk as her grip around my cock tightens enough to be painful. She starts pumping her hand back and forth, slow at first, but quickly building up speed. With the grip she has me by, I can't do anything. If I make her lash out again, she might rip the whole thing off by accident. I hold my breath and do my best to fill my mind with images of saggy grandmas, anything to hold back my erection. If I can just resist long enough, she'll get tired, give up. Worst case, she gets a cramp and maybe that's enough to fight her off. I'm not strong enough though. Her grip is too tight, more akin to a cock ring than a handjob. With each beat of my heart, I feel my member stiffen a little more and within a minute I’m at full mast, throbbing in her hand. She pulls it free from my pants and looks down at it with a prideful glint in her eye.
"I did it," She whispers, "It's hard, and just for me. That means you really do love me! Oh gosh, I should have stripped first. Just give me one minute sweetie," she promises as she releases her grip around my member and lets go of my wrists to pull off her sweater, revealing her milky breasts beneath it.
I'm too stunned to do anything in the second that she's blind, but I haven't missed my chance just yet. She takes a moment to grind against my shaft while unbuttoning her jeans. This might be my last chance to save myself from her. I just have to push her off while she's busy and then run before she can get up. The door might be locked, but maybe it isn't. It's a risk, but if I fail it can't be any worse than what she'll do to me if I don't even try. I close my eyes, visualizing the path to the stairs and take a deep breath, gathering my will when suddenly I feel something. My eyes snap open as my rapist slides the entire length of my cock into her entrance with a single smooth motion and a muffled whimper.
I'm speechless. I wasted it. I wasted maybe the last clean chance I'd have. It was too late now, she was already using me. I felt nauseous.
"Oh god, you're so big Jackson. Oh wow, I need a minute to... This... This is my first time. In case that's important to you, that I'm still y'know... pure," she confesses with a blush.
My dick twitches inside of her as she says that, despite every other fibre of my being wishing for any escape from this hell.
She giggles again, "Sorry! I felt you inside of me. Sorry, this is serious. Its our first time, it needs to be special, I won't laugh at you again," she apologizes, her expression growing serious as she takes a breath to centre herself.
Her hands close around my wrists, pinning them to the bed and making me realize I was still free until this moment. I'm filled with burning shame, wondering if there's some part of me so sick as to want this to happen. I haven't made any effort to stop her, and my cock has never been this hard before in my life. I'm such a pathetic piece of shit.
The nurse, oblivious to my inner turmoil, starts gently bouncing up and down in my lap, sending jolts of pleasure through my body every time her thighs slap back down against my hips. She goes slow, still getting used to the feeling and movements, but obviously enjoying herself. I just do my best not to burst into tears.
"Fuuuuck, you're stretching me ouuuut," She throws her head back, moaning, "Don't worry, I'm getting used to it... I can start going faster now... I'll give you what you need Jackson," She moans between heavy breaths as she starts to build up speed.
Each of her bounces comes a little faster than the one before it, slamming back down into me with a little more force. I tell myself that this is the worst day of my life, that I don't enjoy a single minute of this violation. Then she interrupts her rhythm to grind her hips forwards, threatening to bend my cock in half as her insides tighten around me and it's too much. I can't hold back the moan she forces out of me. She suddenly stops and I stare at her in horror as a smile grows across her face. She slides her hips back and starts rolling them forwards and backwards slowly, interspersed with a few quick and dirty thrusts. It's unlike any sex I've had before. There's barely any rhythm to it, her only goal is to barrage me with as much sensation as possible. It's too much for me to resist, to try to brace for. I try to swallow my moans, but fuck! It feels so fucking good. A curse slips past my lips and the nurse doubles down, riding me twice as hard, twice as fast as before and I can't hold back anymore.
Not only do I moan, but my cock twitches. I'm near my breaking point. I don't know how much longer I can hold it back at this point.
As if she's reading my mind, the nurses leans down, slowing her pace to whisper in my ear, "It's okay to cum inside. I-I'm ready to start a family with you."
Realization dawns on me and adrenaline fills me. I try to buck her off with my hips, but I only succeed in pushing myself deeper inside of her. I thrash and pull my hands free of her and even lift myself off the bed for a moment, but she just slides her arms around me in a bear hug. I try to pull her off of me, but once I pry her off an inch her hips slam back against mine.
"Yes! I’m... fuck! I'm ovulating. Fill me up Jackson... Fucking breed me!" She continues moaning all kinds of awful things in my ear as I struggle, but each movement just brings me a little closer to the edge.
Suddenly, the nurse lets out a whimper and her legs clamp around my hips. I feel her insides grip around my cock like a vice as she vibrates, her nails sinking into my back. It's too much for me. I feel myself twitch inside of her and I try to hold my own orgasm back through sheer force of will, but its a doomed effort. With a groan I release every last drop of cum directly into her womb. Between my frenzied escape attempts and intense orgasm, I'm drained completely. We collapse back into the bed, both of us too exhausted to move or talk. I feel my eyes start to drift shut as my tears trace lines through the sweat coating my face. This will be my life from now on. There won't be anymore escape. She has evidence now, she could tell the police that I raped her, and nobody would believe my side of the story. That's what I tell myself as I drift off to sleep, but deep down I know that real reason I can't escape is because I enjoyed it.