Self Dares Ch. 03

It happened on a Saturday. There was nothing special about the day, I was out with a few friends on my bike. Nothing too heavy, a bit of light off-road, but mainly cycle tracks and tightly packed gravel. It wasn't a club, but we did meet semi-regularly at least. Some of them are more serious than others. I was mid-pack as was my usual position and it was a path that I have cycled hundreds of times.

I am not sure if I hit a rock, if I just lapsed with my concentration, or if I simply ran out of talent. Either way, my front wheel slid from under me and before I could react my face was meeting the gravel. Slamming off the floor the wind was knocked out of me. My left foot unclipped itself, but my right one stayed attached to the bike which twisted as it slid along the floor and I heard the crack as something in my leg was twisted beyond its limit. There was no pain as I bounced off a tree stump and came to a rest on my side, still half attached to the bike.

"Ooo shit," I heard one of the people I was with say as they got off and came over to me to see how I was. I heard the 999 call simultaneously as my adrenaline wore off and pain ripped through my body. My right leg, left arm, right arm and face, in that order of severity. I blacked out.

I came around as emergency responders arrived and I was promptly given gas and air which did very little to ease my pain, but that was soon remedied as a cannula was put into my arm and I was injected with the good stuff. I looked down at myself and just said ow. My right foot wasn't facing the correct way, and my left arm wasn't looking too great either.

"Gonna need to cut your top off," the ambulance guy said.

I am not sure if he was asking my permission or just stating what was going to happen. Even in my morphine-addled dream world, I knew that was a terrible idea as it was all I was wearing. I never wore a bra when cycling, they chafe and are generally not comfortable. "Do you have anything on underneath it?" he asked.

I looked at him for a few seconds. In any other situation, this would be a full-on fantasy scenario. I had attracted a not-insignificant crowd as the cycle path was alongside a popular walking route and as is the case in these situations, people are nosy fuckers. They were about to get a nice view of my tits though and it could get even better for them, the shorts I had on were the all-in-one cycling ones, and I had nothing on under those either. I shook my head. "Nothing?" the ambulance guy confirmed. I shook my head again.

"Is she stable?" I heard the other ambulance person, who was female, say.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Strap her up and get her ready for airlift," she said, "They can sort it on route to the hospital," she added.

I didn't really understand their conversation, but I could hear the distant thrum of a helicopter. I was manoeuvred onto a spinal board and strapped onto it so I couldn't move even if I wanted to. I was given some more morphine and zoned out again for a while. I came back around and was being lifted on my stretcher by two people in orange day glow suits as well as the two ambulance crew.

"Hiya, Jenny," one of the orange people introduced herself as, "How is the pain?" she asked.

I did reply, but even I didn't understand my reply. I did mean to just say "meh," but no idea what came out of my mouth. I was loaded into what I assumed was the loudest ambulance in the world, but as the doors slid closed I realised I was being airlifted. Was I that badly injured? Now I panicked which must have shown on the many machines that were monitoring me. I was instantly sober and terrified. "You are fine," Jenny said, "Relax," she added as she placed her hand on my hand and squeezed it gently.

"Am I going to die?" I asked urgently.

She didn't reply, which further panicked me. I guess she wasn't allowed to say "no" in case I had a blood clot or something and did die. She gave me another injection of something cold into my veins and I sank back into my dream world again. I was still conscious and kind of aware, but I had no cares in the world any more. If I died I died, whatever. I felt my heart slow down, which I assume was what she had just injected me with and she was constantly chatting and telling me what she was doing. Saving my life hopefully. Not at all dramatic. For the record here I was never in any serious danger, the air ambulance was purely because it was available and it saved them carrying me half a mile to the ambulance.

"Boyfriend?" Jenny asked me.

I looked at her confused. Mainly the cocktail of opioids circulating my bloodstream, but it also seemed like an odd time to be making small talk or coming onto me. She was cute, but she was a bit female for my liking. I shook my head, "Nar," I mumbled.

"Okay," she said glancing over her shoulder, "I need to cut your clothes off. Is that okay?" she asked. I am fairly sure my choices were limited as the alternative was to remove them myself and as good as morphine is as a pain killer, it isn't that good.

I just nodded in reply. I really didn't care. I was more concerned whether the squirrels that were dancing in the roof of the helicopter were real or not. In hindsight, they clearly weren't, but in my mind they were real. They were also dressed in ball gowns and dinner suits while doing the Foxtrot. Morphine is fucking awesome.

I felt my top go loose followed by the cool sensation as I became topless. "Are you wearing underwear?" she asked to which I just shook my head. Moments later a similar feeling between my legs washed over me as I was relieved of my clothes and dignity. She tended to a rather nasty cut on my hip that was bleeding quite heavily and generally checked me over. I was hooked up to a load of machines as I just watched on in my dazed state of mind. I was still strapped to the spinal board so I was totally immobile and as the morphine began to wear off I became aware of my nudity and inability to cover myself. She topped up my morphine and I zoned out again.

We landed at the hospital and I was taken inside and seemed to bypass all the queues. I was fairly pleased that I had been covered by a sheet so I wasn't wheeled through a very busy hospital as naked as the day I was born, although that would have been pretty awesome. I hated people like me when I was in hospital, you have been waiting for ages then some idiot who can't ride a bike gets rushed in before you. I was surrounded by doctor-type people who unhooked some things and added other things as I got assessed. I was x-rayed and scanned and once it was determined that nothing spinal or neck was broken I was released from the board and shunted over to a bed. Shunted sounds like a harsh word to use, but it was fairly fucking painful.

The pain was under control now, I am not sure how much of it was drugs and how much of it was my body just saying "Fine whatever, fuck you, I have warned you that you have fucked yourself up, whatever, do whatever, I am done. On your own lady." If I moved I hurt, but if I didn't I was fairly okay. "Am I going to die?" I asked again.

An assistant looked at me and smiled warmly. "Not imminently," she said. Her words, despite their non-committal message, were a comfort to me and I relaxed.

"Soooo, Sophie Lloyd," one of the suited men said to me. I looked at him. "Compound fracture of your right ankle, broken left arm, broken right wrist, a few broken ribs... Good job."

"Thanks," I replied, "Will I be okay?"

"We will do our best," he said. "We need to reset your leg and arm, your wrist will need a brace. Your ribs will heal themselves," he added.

"Okay," I said feeling myself begin to tear up. It was hitting home and here came the shock. I was properly hurt.

"Do you have anyone we can ring?" the assistant asked me.

"Mum," I said instantly. No matter how old you are, you always want your mummy. I gave her the number from memory and they disappeared off to ring her. When I had been moved off the spinal board my sheet hadn't been moved with me and I was very naked. It seemed more exposed now I was in a bed and not on a stretcher. Every fibre of my being wanted to cover myself, but even just the thought of moving seemed to trigger the most intense pain I have ever experienced. "I don't want to be naked," I said. It was a raw honesty. I really didn't want to be, but I was. Being unable to cover myself while people fussed around me was a step beyond my exhibitionistic fantasy. Being naked with a choice was a lot of fun, it being forced was not as enjoyable. I was weirdly pleased that I had waxed recently though. It is odd the things that matter to you, I was laying in hospital being reassembled and here I was, totally hung up that professional medical staff could see my boobs and pussy.

"You are in a private side room," an assistant reassured, "You are okay. We will ask your Mum to bring you some clothes," she said.

I was jabbed at and poked at as any cuts and abrasions were sorted out while x-ray images were up on a screen while a few people looked at them. I did note how the majority of people in my small private room were male. People came and went as these awesome people went about putting me back together again.

"Okay," the consultant said as he picked up a mask with what I assume to be some sort of pain relief, "We need to reset your arm and leg," he said.

"Will it hurt?" I asked as he placed the mask over my face.

"Oh yes," he said warmly. Warmer than the words probably warranted. "But when you come round you won't remember a thing," he said as he injected something else into my arm and I was out for the count.

I woke up to a very concerned-looking Mum and Dad. I burst into tears and Mum hugged me carefully from around the tubes and wires that were attached to me. "You okay?" she asked. I nodded, sniffling and blinking my eyes clear. "Scared the shit out of us," she said.

A nurse came in and checked me over. Dad left while she did her checks as I was still naked underneath the sheet. When the nurse was done, dad came back in. I told them what had happened and started to calm down a little bit. I was very sore and very immobile. The consultant came in a while later and summed up my injuries, expected recovery time and prognosis.

Fractured ankle -- six stitches where it broke the skin

Fractured arm

Fractured wrist

Four broken ribs

And a multitude of scratches and abrasions all over me, the worst being on my left hip where I bounced off the floor.

Recovery time was expected to be six to ten weeks with bi-weekly check-ups in hospital. The prognosis was never guaranteed, but my age counted for me with me being so young and he would expect a full recovery after intensive physio. All the while Mum looked at me with her worried look as she realised just how badly I had hurt myself.

"How the fuck did you manage that falling off a bike?" my Dad asked. He does have a way with words.

"Talent," I replied with a very painful and instantly regrettable shrug of my shoulders.

The consultant smiled at me and placed my clipboard back at the end of the bed. "We will keep you in for tonight at the very least," he said, "You need to be off the morphine before we can send you home. I will be back to see you later," he said. He thanked my Mum and Dad and then left the room.

A nurse came in and checked my blood pressure and had a quick chat about nothing in particular. "Oh, yeah, there is an Andy? In the waiting room," she said, "Should I send him in?"

I looked at her puzzled for a while and then it dawned on me he was one of the cyclists I had been with. No way had he stayed this long. How long had it been? I saw the clock and it was gone 8 pm. That was a lot of hours he had been sitting around waiting. "Yes please," I replied.

She left and Mum and Dad both looked at me. "Andy hey?" they both asked at the same time.

"Noooo," I said rolling my eyes, "he is just a friend," I added. He was. He didn't want to be and he made no secret that he fancied me, but I had said no and he hadn't pushed anything. He was maybe too old for me anyway, not sure how old he was, but he was definitely old enough to not meet the approval of my Dad, not that any boyfriend would ever meet such high standards I guess.

There was a tap on the door and Andy came in. I smiled at him and said hi. Mum and Dad said they would go and grab a coffee. I asked for a coffee and some crisps, They said they would check with the nurse that I was allowed to eat first.

"Hiya, you okay?" Andy asked when Mum and Dad had gone.

"Yeah, kinda," I said, "You didn't have to stay."

"I know," he said, "I have your bag with your phone and stuff in it, so didn't just want to leave."

"Did you come in the helicopter with me?" I asked to which he nodded. "Wow, I really was out of it." Then I remembered the odd conversation I had with the air ambulance doctor. She wasn't asking if I had a boyfriend, she was asking if Andy was my boyfriend. I blushed.

"Yep, you were," he agreed. "How are you?" he asked.

"You were in the helicopter?" I clarified. "You saw me naked?" I said. The morphine reducing my filter as I just straight out said it. It wasn't really a question, it was more an observation.

"I didn't look," he said.

Of course he did. Roles reversed I would have looked. Even if it is someone who you are not attracted to seeing a dick is always too tempting. He fancied the arse off me, of course, he looked. "Bullshit," I said giggling. "I would have looked if it had been you," I added with a cheeky grin. Lack of filter again.

He smiled knowingly at me as he non-verbally confirmed what I knew anyway. He defo saw me naked. "So how are you?" he asked again. I reeled off my injuries. "Wow, good job," he said.

"How is my bike?" I asked, "In fact where is my bike?"

"Dave has taken it back to his for you," he said, "and it is fine."

"Thanks for staying," I said, "You are too nice," I added.

He didn't reply to that. "Where do you want the bag?" he asked.

"Oh, er, just on the side is fine," I said. He placed the bag on the side and stayed standing. "Thanks again," I said. He smiled at me and left me alone. Mum and Dad came back, without food for me, I wasn't allowed. With no food, I had no reason to stay awake and as the pain radiated from my ankle I pressed the morphine button and floated off into my dream world again. I missed the squirrels, they were good dancers. I felt someone lift the sheets higher up my body. Cracking open one eye I saw Mum tending to my decency. The sheet must have slipped and my boobs were exposed. "Does anyone else want to see my tits," today I wondered? I didn't say it, but I thought it. I fell asleep. They were ushered out at 10 as visiting ended at 9, but they always cut new patients a bit of slack on the timings. Mum said she would be back tomorrow and did I want anything. She had brought me clean underwear, clothes and pyjamas so I said I was okay. She placed my phone so I could reach it, kissed me on the head, as did Dad, and they both left. I remembered the conversation, but I wasn't sure if they had just gone or if they had been gone for ages. Time meant nothing at the moment to my brain.

A nurse came in a while later and put a glass of water on my table. She glanced at the morphine status on my self-administered drip and saw it was green as I was allowed a dose and hadn't pressed the button. "Is the pain okay?" she asked when she saw I was awake.

"Meh," I said shrugging, "I can't go home until I am off it."

"Enjoy it," she said, "You will be a thousand times worse tomorrow when you stiffen up overnight, trust me. You are in for another day or two anyway."

She handed me the bed remote control so I could sit myself up and get comfortable. "Can I have anything to eat?" I asked her.

She checked the time and my notes. She did some maths in her head and nodded. "Yeah. The kitchen is closed though. Is toast okay?" she asked.

"Sounds good," I replied.

"Butter?" she asked.

"Of course," I replied.

"Lights out at half 10, but your bedside light will work all night if you want," she said. Her eyes flicked to my chest and back up to my face again. "Do you want some pyjamas on or anything? It is a mixed-sex ward," she asked as she lifted the sheet up. I wasn't actually showing anything, but I was showing a lot of chest, it was obvious I was topless at the very least.

That was the first time I realised that I couldn't dress myself, but I did make a promise to myself that even if it was agony I was not asking for help with toilet stuff. "If you have time," I said as I felt tears again.

"Of course I have time," she said wiping my eyes with a tissue and then looking through the bag that Mum had brought me, "101 Dalmatians. Awesome," she said as she commented on my pyjamas while smiling at me warmly.

It was a strange sensation to be dressed by someone else. I have been undressed by other people before, but never dressed by them. She was so careful and patient as I slowly moved my very sore limbs to help her put my clothes on. Panties and shorts were easy enough. The top took a bit of puzzling though as she slid it over my right arm first, then my left arm and finally my head to keep the required bending and twisting to a minimum. She pulled it down and made sure it was comfortable. I didn't bother with a bra, and it felt so nice to have clothes on. I had been naked for hours.

She came back with my toast and once I had eaten it I lowered my bed down and took her advice. Pressing the morphine button I was out like a light.

I was kept in for the next day and as predicted, ow. I was fucked the entire day, and not in a good way. I barely saw the day as I spent most of it high on morphine. I was finally released the following day. As promised I managed to not need help for the super embarrassing toilet times, but even so, I was fairly useless. My right arm was in a sling with my left wrist in a brace, which I was allowed to remove for showers. My left ankle was in a boot-type thing that was not waterproof, but I could wrap my foot in a plastic bag which kept it dry. It was strong enough to enable me to hobble around the house, but I was confined to a wheelchair if I wanted to go any sort of distance.

Climbing stairs was interesting and I was only allowed to do so when someone could stand behind me as I had to hobble upstairs without the ability to grab the handrail if I overbalanced. The last thing I needed was to face plant down the stairs. Mum tended to me more or less exclusively, most stuff that I needed help with required some sort of nudity on my behalf and so dad and brother were excluded where possible. The only time I needed help was when Mum was at work and I needed to get ready for bed. After the best part of an hour I had managed to wriggle a t-shirt on and some shorts, but I couldn't twist enough to reach the clasp to remove my bra. Kind of embarrassing to ask your Dad to take your bra off for you. He did, and he did it with what can only be described as a professionalism. I had a top on so I was never visually exposed, but even so, it is fairly intimate having your Dad unclip your bra and then reach up the front of your t-shirt to pull it off. It took him a while to work out the logistics of how to get my arms out of the straps without removing my t-shirt, which was not an option. He managed though and I maintained the majority of my dignity as well. He did "cop a feel" when he reached up the front of my t-shirt but I am assuming that was entirely accidental. Credit where credit is due, my tits are tiny, good shot if it was on purpose

It is amazing how quickly you get used to what were previously alien situations. Except for the occasional accidental flash or when I was very hung over and she saw my bum and bare back she had never seen me head to toe naked. It went from a fairly conservative relationship in the nudity stakes to her having very liberal and intimate knowledge of my body. She dressed me in the mornings, she undressed me at night and in the middle, she showered me. She did offer to put me some swimwear on, but as she would be putting the swimwear on for me it was kind of pointless. It was a little awkward at first as she stripped me naked and saw me in my full glory for the first time. I was anxious that she would comment on my shaved pussy, but of course, she didn't. Ultimately it was none of her business and hardly a strange revelation that an 18-year-old was hairless from the neck down.