tagCelebrities & Fan FictionFriends: The Comatose Boyfriend

Friends: The Comatose Boyfriend


Friends: Deleted Scenes - The Comatose Boyfriend

Author's Note: Once again, I find myself apologizing for the length of time since my last submission. Unfortunately, life has many demands. But I trust that this story, which is actually three scenes, will make up for the wait.

This story line was suggested by an anonymous reader. I hope that person sends me an e-mail, so I can give a note of personal thanks.

Please keep the suggestions and comments coming. I am working on more scenes to share, and your kind words keep me going.

Last, I'm certain there are good writers among those who read my stories. Especially given how long it's been taking me to finish each one, I'd like to encourage some of you to also write Friends fiction. It's really quite fun, and I know the rest of us would love to read your work!


The sandy-haired stranger lay in the hospital bed. The two women who were with him had unintentionally put him there. They had distracted him as he walked through an intersection, and they watched in horror as he was hit by an ambulance. Sad and ironic; yet for him, quite fortunate. His physical injuries were minimal, but he hadn't yet regained consciousness.

Monica, who sat next to the bed reading the paper, had been the direct cause with her enthusiastic, though very poorly timed, "Woo-woo!" Phoebe, who had goaded her friend into the Negligent Woo-wooing, stood at the end of the bed, arranging flowers.

"I wish there was something we could do for him," Monica said woefully, as she folded the newspaper.

"Yeah, me too..." Phoebe agreed, then exclaimed a moment later, "Oo! Maybe... maybe I could, ya know, massage him back to the Land of the Awake People!"

Monica gave her a dubious look. "You think massage will bring him out of a coma?"

"Well, it's not like Western Medicine has helped him. And, and maybe he just needs some positive energy flowing into his body," she explained with broad gestures.

Her friend laughed, gently. "Okay, Pheebs. Have at it."

Phoebe walked around to the other side of the bed. "Oh, but you keep reading to him. That way he, like, hears a friendly voice, and, and ya know, he walks toward it... y'know, back to his body."

"All right," Monica replied, slowly and skeptically. "Well... I've already read the Times... I just have my book with me."

"Oh. Well, read that, then," Phoebe encouraged.

"Okay," Monica said, more from an intent simply to humor Phoebe, rather than in agreement with her idea. She pulled out the paperback, and found her book-marked place. "Let's see... 'Chapter Six - Loving Your Vagina'..."

The two women locked eyes as the title sunk in.

"I, I guess that chapter is, um, must be about, you know, feeling comfortable with your sexuality," Monica explained, with a noticeable lack of comfort, then she rapidly went on. "Okay, Chapter SEVEN."

Looking up and down the man's body, Phoebe commented with a lustful tone, "Yeah, but I'd like to teach HIM how to love my vagina."

Monica ignored her. "Um, okay, this one is 'Exorcising Your Mother Inside You'..."

Phoebe began to ask, "What, are all the chapters-"

Her friend interrupted her. "Well, it's a, a women's self-help book, okay? Just gimme a second. There's got to be something in here to read to him..." She continued leafing through the pages. "Oh! How about this one? 'Chapter Ten - Breaking Through Your Man's Shell.'"

"Ooo, yeah... That's good! 'Cuz he's WAY deep in his, like, REALLY THICK shell," Phoebe said expressively.

As Monica began to read, the blonde masseuse picked up one of the man's hands and began to rub the muscles of his fingers and palm. She moved from his hand up his forearm and bicep, kneading the muscles to relax them, and silently noting how big his bicep was in her hands. Then she moved to his other arm, as the comforting tone of Monica's voice filled the room.

Gradually, Phoebe came to massage his temples, then moved down to his neck, and slowly, further down to his shoulders and chest. Her fingertips were treated to the feel of the man's muscular torso.

"Well, well, we do work out, don't we?" Phoebe asked the unconscious man, though not realizing she had said the words out loud.

Monica broke from her text, and paused. "Really?" she asked with a shy little smile.

"Oh hell, yeah! Here... touch his chest," Phoebe offered.

Monica hesitated. Certainly it might be fine for Phoebe, a masseuse, to touch the unknown, unconscious man. But for Monica to do it... it just seemed to violate a social boundary. "Um, no... no, thanks... I'll just, um, read," she replied.

"Suit yourself," the blonde said, as she continued rubbing the man's chest.

Monica kept reading, and Phoebe kept massaging. As her firm, feminine touch moved over the man's body, his arms and neck and chest and stomach, she was unaware of the slow, steady hardening of his penis. Then her therapeutic attention traveled downward to his thighs and her sight caught the obvious bulge in his crotch.

"Oh! Oh! He's waking up!" she said excitedly.

"He is?" Monica asked, jumping up from her seat, and searching his face for signs of awareness.

"Not up there," her friend chided. "Look! Down here."

Following this direction, Monica's eyes moved downward and she saw the now-quite-obvious tent in the bedclothes.

"See? He's coming out of the coma," the blonde proclaimed. "Quick! Go get the doctor."

Monica chuckled at the absurdity of the request. "Right. And what am I supposed to say? 'Um, Doctor? We think that guy is coming out of his coma. How do I know? Oh, well, my friend was massaging him... and well, he got a hard-on.'"

The blonde stared at her dispassionately, then spoke. "And your point is?"

"My point is that the hospital probably wouldn't like you massaging a comatose man, who you've never met."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Phoebe said grudgingly, as she stared at the erection. After a few seconds of thought and silence, she said, "You wanna see what it looks like?"

Monica voiced her name in protest. "PHOEBE!"

"Tell me you don't want to see what it looks like. Tell me you're not the least bit curious," came the challenge.

Monica managed to lie. "No, I'm not. I, I don't... want to see... it."

"Okay... now tell me honestly," the blonde replied, calling her bluff.

"Look, we should probably just go," her friend said, trying to avoid the whole topic. She packed away her book and reached for her jacket.

"But we can't just leave him like this."

"Leave him like what?"

"Well, all... hard, and aroused, and... TENSE."

"And what do you propose we do?" Monica asked, knowing she didn't want to hear the answer.

"Well, maybe we can, y'know, give him a hand."

"Let me get this straight... You want to molest an unconscious man, so he'll cum, and his hard-on will go away."

Phoebe replied cautiously, "'Molest' is such a dirty-sounding word."

"Okay," Monica paused before rattling off a series of alternates. "Molest. Fondle. Grope. Masturbate. Jack off. Spank the monkey! Any of these words even APPROACHING an appropriate activity for this situation?"

"No," came the grudging reply, "no. Yes, I know... you're right. We just... that's just... okay, we can't. Okay? Happy?"

Monica took on a more accepting tone. "Y'know, Pheebs, it would be different if he was... well... 'un-comatose'. But with him like this, we just can't, 'k?"

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe we should just go."

"That would probably be best," Monica agreed.

The girls put on their coats and left the room; walking down the hall, and taking the elevator to ground level. They went down the street to the subway station, and as they approached it, Phoebe spoke.

"Oh, no," she said in her characteristic Phoebe-esque way. "I forgot my guitar." She tried to fake a laugh at her supposed forgetfulness.

"Phoebe," Monica began with a stern tone, "you're not just going back to do stuff to that guy, are you?"

"No! No, not at all. You were right. We can't do 'that' to him. I just need to go get my guitar. 'Cuz, I play tomorrow at the coffee house."

Monica stared at her with wariness for a few moments. Then satisfied with her friend's promise, she moved on. "Okay, well, I have to get back and change for tonight. Don't forget, we're meeting Chandler's mom at that Mexican restaurant. 6:30, 'k? I'll call your machine and leave directions."

"Got it. I'll just go and grab my guitar. And... I'll see you there."

As her friend walked away, Phoebe got a little grin and pulled her hand out of her jacket pocket. She looked at the crossed fingers. "SUCH a handy thing," she said to herself.

Minutes later, the blonde entered the hospital room. Her eyes immediately went to the unconscious man's loins. The tent was smaller, though his lingering stiffness was obvious.

Her hand went to the bulge, rubbing its length. "See? I told Monica you needed my help," she said, receiving no response... not that she expected any.

Phoebe's gaze slowly went up his body, eventually resting upon his gentle, handsome face. As she watched for a reaction, which she secretly hoped wouldn't come, her hand moved down and across the man's thigh.

It slipped beneath the thin blanket and sheet at the side of the bed, and for the first time, her fingertips touched the bare skin of his leg. They traced along his defined, though relaxed, quads.

"Oh yeah, you do work out," she said, giving an unacknowledged complement. "Nice... VERY nice!"

Her hand glided upward, under his short hospital smock... and inside the leg hole of his boxers. Phoebe's shortly-trimmed nails gently scraped across his sack. It was nice and tight, giving additional evidence of the comatose man's arousal. Her fingers tracing the features of his genitals, like a woman deprived of sight. She caressed his scrotum for a little while, before reaching further up, and touching his erect penis and feeling his smooth skin.

"Mmm... soft..." she purred. Phoebe's non-therapeutic genital massage grew the hardness of the man's member. She enjoyed the feel of the long stiff cock under her palm. But soon, it wasn't enough to just touch him.

The blankets were tucked in around his chest, however, a few seconds later, they were pulled down to the man's knees.

"I, I hope you won't be too cold, or anything," Phoebe said. "But I'm pretty sure I can warm you up... well, you know, at least the part that counts!"

With this, the bottom of the hospital gown was pushed up to his stomach. Phoebe pulled down the waistband of his boxers, hooking it under his balls. As soon as it was free, the man's cock sprung up to full attention.

Phoebe's eyes got wide at the sight of the large member. "Oh! It's everything I hoped for," she gushed, as though expressing thanks for an extravagant gift.

"Okay," she explained matter-of-factly to the sleeping man. "I don't have a lot of time, so I'm just gonna help you... you know... get unhard. But maybe... maybe sometime we can get together and I can show you what I'm REALLY good at... y'know, sexually and stuff."

Her hand wrapped loosely around the man's dick, and she began slowly stroking it up and down, enjoying the softness of the skin. In time, her grip tightened; just enough that the skin began moving with her hand. With several strokes, the penis was again stiff as a board.

She paused her jacking, and simply held it, admiring its size and features. She caressed the fleshy head with her fingertips, and it flinched involuntarily. Phoebe giggled, and repeated the stimulation. "Now I know ONE thing you like."

Her hand slowly rubbed it, as she considered what else she should do for him. She knew she could just masturbate him until he came, but...

She addressed the man as he lay there, exposed. "Okay. The first thing you should know about me is that I'm a vegetarian. But, y'know, don't worry, 'cuz that doesn't include THIS kind of meat. No. Actually, I LIKE a nice... y'know... FIRM... piece of man-meat in my mouth," she finished with an intense, desirous tone.

Before the heart monitor could sound its next beep, Phoebe's lips were wrapped around his dick. "Mmm," she gave a little moan, pleased with the size of the head. She gave a couple of sloppy sucks before commenting with full mouth, "Vewry nifce!"

Her head fell and rose a few times, turning slightly each time, so her tongue could feel him from different angles. Soon, the upper two-thirds of his shaft shone with her saliva. She pulled off and smacked her lips.

Her hand jacked him, moving the wetness down the pole. She put her mouth back on it, sucking sloppily for just a few seconds. This was followed by a little more rubbing... a little more sucking... and the cock was quickly moistened all the way to its base.

"Okay, like, I know you can't have, ya know, the FULL Phoebe Experience," she addressed him, "but, just think of this as, like... a sample. Ooo! Or an appetizer. I know Monica's the chef, and all... but, just remember that PHOEBE is the one who can, ya know... satisfy your sexual... like... HUNGER."

The erotic intensity of her words was soon followed-up with matching passion in her blowjob. Amid these actions, her cute green and burgundy hat fell off her noggin, and rolled off the opposite side of the bed. Her long golden locks cascaded across his stomach and thighs. The way they moved slightly with her head motions, softly caressing his skin, they probably would have tickled him, if he had been awake.

She ran her fingers through a stray wave of hair that fell across her forehead and face, pulling it up and out of the way. Phoebe glanced at the man's face; his cock still in her mouth. Seeing no reaction at one head, she determined to get one from the other.

Phoebe filled her mouth over and over with the thick piece of flesh. She felt her nipples harden, as she serviced the stranger. The thought that, no matter how unlikely, he might stir at any moment was quite thrilling to her. The beeping of the monitor quickened slightly, as the man's body responded to the stimulation.

Soft little moans of encouragement came from below, enticing the man to either awaken... or ejaculate. Better yet, to do both. But, even if the first didn't happen, Phoebe was sure she could bring on the second.

As she straightened up, her mouth separated from his cock. She tossed her long hair over her shoulder with a flip of her head and hand. Phoebe stroked him rapidly, as she teased him in her little pornstar voice.

"Do you like that?... huh? Come on, baby. Wake up and tell me what to do... I'll do anything you want... and I mean, AN-Y-THING..."

One fist rested above the other, as she vigorously masturbated the sleeping man.

"No? Still shy? Well, how 'bout you just cum for Phoebe? Can you do that, big boy? Can you cum for mama?"

An instant later, her lips were back on his cock. She sucked the head as she continued jacking him with one hand. The other slipped down, and caressed his ballsack.

Noticing that the spit-bath had evaporated from his skin, Phoebe paused her hand and quickly licked the full length of his shaft all around, once again coating him.

"Come on, baby... come for Phoebe," she muttered between licks.

Her mouth enveloped the head, and her hand flattened at the base of his shaft, pulling the skin tight. Her head bobbed up and down rapidly on the cock. Her mind egged him on to climax. The beeps sounded at a faster pace, with his heart signaling his response to Phoebe's cock-sucking.

"You can do it," she tried to tell him telepathically. "You can cum... Cum, baby... Cum for Pheebs..." Her lips jacked him off as fast as she could, as her mind continued speaking to him. "That's it... You're getting close, aren't you? Cum, baby, it'll feel good... it'll feel good when you cum..."

As if in obedience to her commands, the cock thrashed against her lips. A split second later, Phoebe felt a spurt of hot liquid strike the back of her throat.

"MM!" Her exclamation was muffled by her full mouth. "Mm hmm... Mm hmm..."

Phoebe's hand resumed rapidly jacking him off. Her head moved in sync with her fist. His penis throbbed strongly in her mouth, as it dispensed stream after stream of cum; drenching her tongue and coating her mouth. Phoebe's eyes widened when she realized how much jizz she got in just the first few spurts.

She swallowed quickly, readying her mouth to receive more of the man's sperm. His body fulfilled that expectation, firing a few more shots into her warm welcoming mouth.

Hair still bobbing with her oral activity, she looked out of the corner of her eye, to see if he was perhaps awake and enjoying this. But to her disappointment, the handsome stranger was still deep in his coma.

The squirting began to die down, and Phoebe sucked the head, coaxing out as much cum as he could give.

When she knew he was empty, Phoebe swallowed again, then playfully licked across the ridge under his head. She giggled as his cock flinched against her face, and this enticed her to do it a couple more times.

Then with a tone of disappointment, she stood and said, "I'm sorry. I have to go. I wish I could stay... actually, I wish I could stay AND you were awake ... but, just, wake up soon, 'k? 'Cuz, I'll do that for you all over again... and more!"

Phoebe noticed the beeping of the monitor was slowing to normal. She returned his underwear to it's position, and pulled down his hospital gown.

After tucking him in with the blankets, she retrieved her hat, but paused before putting it on. A quick hug, and a kiss to his cheek, and Phoebe crossed to the door. She returned her chapeau to its place, and with a little wave, she said, "Bye... see you soon. Wake up, ok?"

The dinner at the Mexican restaurant went by rather uneventfully, with the exception of Ross secretly kissing Chandler's hot blonde MILF of a mom. But Phoebe and Monica were unaware of that, and in fact, Monica was completely unsuspecting of Phoebe's new secret.

The next evening, Monica was shopping at Bloomingdales. She was alone, since Phoebe was playing, and Rachel was waitressing. As she walked past the men's' department, she spotted a display of pajamas. Her mind immediately went to the man, laying in bed in that horrendous patient's smock.

Earlier that day, she and Phoebe had dropped off a nice big fake potted plant, to add an "organic, y'know, like, life-flow," as Phoebe put it, to the room. While there, Monica noticed again how the garment gave an impression of true illness to a man who wasn't really sick, just not awake.

"He'll be more comfortable in these," she said to herself, disregarding the thought that he wouldn't even be aware of the difference. She pulled out a package of deep blue PJs, which she thought would match his eyes, and after paying for them, Monica left for the hospital.

As she walked into the room that late evening, a short, matronly nurse in her early 60s was tending to the man. She addressed Monica, "I'm sorry, dear. You'll need to leave in just a few minutes. Visiting hours are almost over."

"Oh," she replied, with voice and visage that conveyed her disappointment. "Okay. I just haven't seen him all day, so-"

"Are you family, dear?"

Monica began to laugh off the question, but then her face changed to reflect hope and promise. She said, both to the nurse and herself, "Maybe someday."

The nurse smiled at her dreamy expression. "Well, I know how that goes - waiting for your man to 'pop the question'. My Harold took his sweet old time, that's for certain. Three years before he proposed."

Monica quickly tried to change the subject, rather than further the impression that she was the unconscious man's girlfriend. She reached into the shopping bag and retrieved her gift. "I just bought him some new pajamas, so maybe-" She was going to suggest that the nurse change his clothes, but once again, she was jovially interrupted.

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byDudeman85© 6 comments/ 67271 views/ 14 favorites

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