In an atmosphere of general vague disquiet, 1202 went unspoken of almost entirely. A Jane Doe ER intake who somehow rated the priciest most expansive private suite in the entire wing, and for two weeks plus now. Not the sort of accommodations a nameless twentyish girl off the street would have found herself in, not if there wasn’t someone with juice in the background. But then why was she still anonymous? If she had people why hadn’t they showed for her? As far as Ruth could tell no one on staff knew a thing about it, or seemed to want to. You didn’t even hear scuttlebutt around 1202, though as a contract nurse she wasn’t really in a position to go digging around for any. Call sign came up, people shifted their glances, busied themselves with papers, paid attention to anything else, like some silent collective reminder had been transmitted, out of sight out of mind. Like you were surrounded by pod people. Honestly it creeped Ruth the fuck out.

1202 was a nondescript sort of a girl: Ruthie didn't have much aptitude for faces anyway and her only real impression was how weirdly healthy she seemed. She looked like people thought people in comas looked, asleep. Peaceful. And by every available measure she was healthy, just,— unresponsive. No one home. And unresponded to, seemingly, which hurt Ruth’s heart. Not that she wasn’t getting proper care. But this was all strictly maintenance detail. The girl seemed utterly alone, and Ruth had no sense of anyone actively working trying to get her better.

Daniela meanwhile had jumped at the call and was halfway down the corridor already, forcing Ruth into an anxious trot to catch up. And how exactly does a coma patient signal? No one else appeared troubled by the thought. She’d handwaved it off as some AI thing, some fancy kind of software monitoring she wasn’t privileged to know about, which was just about believable enough she could put the question aside and get on with her work. In any case they never seemed to go in without being summoned. On Ruth’s shift that always meant her and her eager-beaver young LPN shadow. And still not even she and Daniela ever talked about 1202.

Let’s make today a good day, Ruth coached herself. The door to the suite closed behind her with a plush thunk and all the noise of the hospital just whooshed away. She could feel it in the shape of the air how big and how undisturbed the place was, and for a moment simply stood there, breathing in quiet and letting her heartbeat slow. Today’s a day we don’t lose any time. Last shift they’d gone in in the morning for a thirty-minute physiotherapy session and when she came back out it was dark. And not the first time that had happened, though the first time she'd lost a whole day. She was still trying to make up her mind whether to be worried about it. Of course on the outside no one took a bit of notice. Or they didn't say anything at least, which amounted to the same thing, and Ruthie wasn’t likely to either, not at this point.

She’d be grateful though to see 1202 headed back to wherever home was.

Dani was in the wardrobe just off the suite entrance, beginning her special uniform protocol. Which was another thing, how could 1202 possibly have had a preference about their uniforms? or expressed one? She watched the junior girl strip out of her underwear, distracted for a minute, then Ruthie hurried to get her own clothes off. And honestly she couldn’t complain about the protocol: however outlandish it was, the ceremony of it always kind of charmed her. Scrubs were just scrubs, but putting on traditional costume like this?—  somehow it really did feel like you were making yourself into a very prim and proper little nursie. The wardrobe was big, well lit, it had a good full-length mirror and a couple upholstered changing benches. Dani was on one of them, cap already in place, rolling on a pair of white latex stockings and strapping into her high white platforms.

Ruthie being senior the outfit had a bit more flair. Everything had to be just so. Dani showed initiative by helping out and not just standing around gawping:— fetched her her pink leather collar and big pink stethoscope, fixed the belt on her teeny-tiny apron skirt so it’d sit up high enough for Ruthie’s bare slit to be exposed, even zipped up her white disco boots for her. She was a good, conscientious girl, Ruthie thought, and they made a good team. As she settled her cap on—two red stripes above the cross for her senior rank—she blew her friend a quick kiss.

Dani stuck the big red-cross pasties on Ruthie’s nipples and stepped back to admire, and special uniform protocol was done. But they were so keyed up from it still the two of them had to spend some time flirting and posing in the mirror for each other before Ruthie remembered there was a patient waiting on them. Something in the giddy energy between them told her it was going to be not just a good day but a special one. Ruthie couldn’t get enough of Dani’s dark bush poking out between her shiny high stockings and the narrow bandeau riding up over her hips, she looked foxy as a stripper.

The giddiness was instantly banished when they entered the patient’s room. Another moment of hush: not quiet, it was a hospital room after all where a coma patient was being monitored, but a kind of mental hush, almost to Ruthie a feeling of church. Approaching the bed the nurses whispered by reflex, and at the foot of it they curtsied together, spontaneously, out of a shared respect for the lost, lonely girl in their care.

The nurses drifted up to the head of the bed on either side, Ruthie losing herself in contemplation. Dimly she recognized that she’d taken the patient’s hand. It was limp but all the same Ruthie had a sense of presence. Somewhere in there was a girl too long asleep, waiting to be woken up. She saw the vacant, almost sorrowing look on Dani’s face and knew the younger nurse felt the same thing. That’s what made the two of them special, why 1202 always kept them together: because they weren’t like the others. Because 1202 mattered to them, they were affected by her. They had something in them or maybe between them that the patient could touch.

Ruthie arched down into a low bow and put her lips to the girl’s open palm. She closed her eyes and kept them there, pressing the hand against her face, warming it, willing the life into it. She felt an overwhelming urge to put 1202’s fingers in her mouth.

Ruthie gave herself a mental shake and deliberately put the hand back. She couldn’t quite bring herself to stop touching it though. Dani was staring at her wide-eyed and somehow even more disconsolate, and face-to-face with her Ruthie got the sudden queasy feeling of having overstepped her bounds. There was an almost panicky impulse to reach out to the girl, for comfort or support, and then—she got displaced. Things got a little displaced around her. It wasn’t fainting: everything was exactly where it was and nothing happened. More like, a moment of static. Like the garbled noise between stations when you'd tune an old radio, that conflict of too many signals coming in at once. She had the weirdest sense of Dani being multiple, of being not herself really but a kind of superposition of Danis—some she knew, some she loved or might have loved or maybe hated, some she only imagined—waiting to be resolved. And as soon as Ruthie noticed the weirdness it was done. Like she’d slipped into some kind of micro-dream and then slipped right back out.

Something that had been on her mind wasn’t anymore. No idea what it was. No idea what was in the dream. But in an obscure way Ruthie felt like it had cleared something up. She looked unabashed into her young counterpart’s eyes and smiled. We’re on Her wavelength now, she told the girl in her head. She wasn’t sure why the thought was funny to her, but it made her giggle.

Ruthie was very wet. She winked at the junior. Without breaking eye contact she pulled 1202’s hand up to her mouth and thrust the thumb in, licking and sucking it like she was doing a blowjob. The look on the sad little bitch’s face while she made her watch was priceless. “What’s the matter baby,” Ruthie said, “jealous? Maybe She likes me better than you.” She gave Miss’s thumb a last slow swirl of her tongue. “All right slut, show’s over. Do your job, go fetch me a thing of lube.”

Ruthie wasn’t exactly sure why she’d said lube but they were bound to need it for something. Plus the girl needed an order to obey. Those high tight buns, joggling over the tops of her gleaming white doll legs, made Ruthie want to forget decorum and yell something crude and sexist after her, but she pulled herself together.

She should probably try to remember if the whore had a name. Ruthie set the patient’s hand on the sheet, pressing it lightly there with her fingers. “I get such wicked ideas when we’re together Miss,” she whispered to her.

Such an elegant hand, she thought, stroking it a little. Long, slender fingers, the kind that would know how to drive a girl crazy. And god they were so close to Ruthie’s pussy right now. Her hot hot pussy. It made Ruthie wonder, would it really be so bad? One little touch. What if it just sort of happened by accident?

It would be electric, Ruthie thought. She pictured a literal spark between them the moment her pussy met Miss’s hand. And what if that’s what woke Her? Imperceptibly at first, those long fingers stretching and making contact, curling up into her, making her dance. For a long time she wouldn’t know whether it was Miss or her who was doing it. Ruthie pressed her legs together and closed her eyes and tried to keep her pussy from squirming, feeling how weak she was, how easy just to let herself slide and let the evil thought be real. Which was right when number two came back in and spoiled her whole fantasy.

Her clumsiness on the platforms did wonders for the girl’s big soft boobies; Ruthie could have watched them bouncing at her all day long. But the bitch was also mopey and drag-ass and slouched glumly by the side of the bed like she was wishing herself elsewhere, and Ruthie was in no mood. “Stand at attention, nursie!” she snapped. The junior's slack bullshit was so exasperating that the command came out in a petulant girly-girl squeal, and Ruthie just barely resisted an urge to stamp her foot on the floor.

Bimbo voice meant business, and Nurse Tits was at least well enough trained that her body snapped immediately into focus. But her expression stayed troubled and stupid,— the wrong kind of stupid, the kind a senior nursie knew better than let slide. Soft-eyed little trainee cunt, Ruthie thought savagely. “You got something to say for yourself Titsy?” she sneered. The girl sniffed and averted her gaze, and just that furtive bit of resistance was enough to make Ruthie boil over.

She swept around the end of the bed, ripping the tube thing off her neck, and smacked the slut hard across the ass with it, hard enough it’d leave a mark. The girl yelped and broke position and Ruthie shoved her up against the bed from behind, grabbing her under the chin and yanking her head back. She whimpered through her closed jaw and Ruthie could feel her trembling. “Something you want to tell me?” Ruthie hissed into her ear. She held the instrument up, dangling the sort of bell on the end of it in front of Titsy’s eyes. “Whyn’t you tell me what this thing’s for then, maybe I won’t whup your ass with it again.”

She relented her pressure a bit on the slut’s jaw and heard her choke out something that sounded like “nursie necklace.” Ruthie snorted and gave Titsy’s head a rough shake. “What’s it do, dummy?” She caught the girl by the rib cage and started swaying them together back and forth in time with the swaying of her nursie necklace, their cheeks pressed together. Like slow dancing, but from behind. “What does nursie necklace doooo,” she cooed in Titsy’s ear.

Titsy sighed audibly, and a tension left her body. “It makes me horny and compliant,” she said dully. That sounded right. It sure sounded right to Ruthie’s pussy. “It makes us horny and compliant,” she agreed, and Nurse Titsy echoed her. They said it together, and that was nice and also hot, and for a while it was all they did, swaying there, Ruthie kneading the junior’s tit, the dangling shiny thing before them, compelling them to its rhythm, horny and compliant.

Ruthie heard a plasticky thud at her feet and kind of woke up. Oh shit the lube, she remembered. She shoved brainless Nurse Titsy face down onto the bed for safekeeping while she knelt to retrieve it. At eye level the slut’s ass looked ripe, a peach just waiting to be split, and her pussy was drooling. She’d made herself a sticky mess all at the top of those nice white leggings. Delicately Ruth put her tongue there and licked: the vinyl chemically slick, the salt tang of slutjuice, just the barest warm touch of skin before she drew back. She wanted to. She lingered there on the floor, rubbing her slit absentmindedly with the lube bottle, imagining it. How had she got to this point in her life and never tasted pussy yet.

Still though. Ruthie straightened herself up. Discipline first. She lubed up her hand and kicked nursiedoll’s legs apart. She felt like she wanted to go in rough but the girl’s asshole was so tight it was out of the question. She whimpered as soon as Ruthie started pressing into it,— not a sound of protest, and before long the hot bitch was moaning and reaching back behind her to pull her cheeks apart. Ruthie teased and pushed and the girl’s sphincter pulsed open for her, reluctantly, inexorably—open for Her—and she had never felt so powerful. It was Her power though, and Ruthie knew she was just the conduit. 1202 was moving in her, she could feel Her smiling:— not yet awake but not asleep either, dreaming her, dreaming this, and now at last she really was a puppet for her Miss to make dance.

A pair of nursedollies were assfucking on top of the patient's legs at the side of her bed. Dollie one had worked a first finger well in and was already lusting to fit the second after it, but that would have sent dollie two right over the edge, so she just started pumping harder. She hoped when it was her turn Miss would dream her taking the other one's whole hand up there before she could come.