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As soon as i started using it again, i remembered why i i i had taken a break — haha, it was honestly quite painful and intense (since im using it at the highest level). But it felt so good… every second of it was worth it 💥💥

(I even recorded my hbs during the session and added it to the video — and yes, i was very aroused 🥵)

And guys,im aware that this voltage doesn’t physically impact the heart,its just the way it makes me feel,enjoy ! 🫀

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What happened to me?

This surgical cap is quite comfortable. Cold sensors are attached to my forehead – sticky electrodes pulling thin wires, like a spider web catching my every breath. The hair, damp with sweat, no longer bothers – it has been neatly removed so that the medical devices can work without hindrance. On my chest – other sensors, their smooth edges chilling the skin, and the wires descend to where the heart beats unevenly, as if succumbing to the rhythm of alarming signals. I hear the squeak of the monitors – a quiet, monotonous sound that whispers that my condition is stable… for now.

Sometimes the air becomes thick, as if I am swallowing it with force. My chest tightens, and each breath is a struggle, causing sweat to appear on my temples. I've been pricked with needles – countless times, the sensation of sharp metal under my skin still throbs in my memory. Lidocaine, morphine, something else – I've lost count. But there is no relief, only heat in my veins and trembling in my fingers. The oxygen cannula sits firmly under my nose, its plastic tubes chilling my skin, and the oxygen flows into my lungs – dry, but vital. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe it's my heart giving out? Or my lungs, which betrayed me at the worst moment?

Nurses constantly check my condition, their fingers – quick and cold – glide over my skin, adjusting the sensors, measuring my pulse. Their eyes, hidden behind masks, seem indifferent, but I feel fear gripping my throat. What if I become a medical vegetable – immobile, dependent on these humming machines around me? Will I fall into a coma where everything disappears? Will I be fully connected to the machines – tubes, wires, needles becoming a part of me? I try to push these thoughts away.

Breathing is still difficult – the air seems to get stuck in my chest. I've been fitted with an oxygen mask – its plastic fits tightly against my face, chilling my lips, making me feel vulnerable. At first, it's annoying, but then… the oxygen penetrates my lungs, cool and clean, like a foreign whisper bringing me back to life. Breathing became easier, and I feel warmth slowly spreading through my body, although the fear remains with me.

I dozed off – briefly, intermittently, as if falling into darkness that receded only for a moment. I woke up to a presence – nurses and a doctor are near me again. Their voices hum quietly, but the words blur, not reaching my consciousness. They removed the regular oxygen mask, and I felt a chill on my lips where the plastic still retained the warmth of my breath. Instead, they put something else on me – a different oxygen mask, attached to a thick hose. Oxygen bursts into my lungs – strong, sharp, as if foreign lips are forcibly breathing life into me. And that sound… the low, rhythmic hum of the machine nearby. Is that it? Artificial ventilation? Is it really that bad?

Their hands are on me again – quick, relentless. A new injection – the needle pierces my vein, cold liquid spreads under my skin, leaving heat and a slight tingling. What is it – a sedative? Painkiller? Will I be able to fall asleep, escape this nightmare into soft darkness? Or maybe it's the last thing I'll feel before…

Did I wake up again… This tube… A breathing tube in my throat – cold, foreign, like a harsh kiss from an artificial device. I've been intubated. I feel this tube – hard, plastic, it presses against my tongue, makes my larynx tremble with each mechanical breath that the machine drives into my lungs. The artificial device makes a noticeable sound – a low, rhythmic hum that fills the room, as if its breath has become mine. I can't move – my body is still connected to wires and sensors, as if I've become a part of this medical room, its living detail. My condition… is it finally terrible? What happened to me? My memory blurs like fog, and my heart pounds under the cold plates of the electrodes. Will I remain like this forever – trapped in the embrace of this machine, dependent on its rhythm…?

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Bliss

Hoses, tubes, catheters… You’re still perfect. You lie before me, enveloped in a web of medical devices. Your cervical collar holds your head in place — the hard plastic chills my fingers as I adjust the soft lining, inhaling the sharp scent of antiseptic mixed with the warmth of your skin. A blue nasogastric tube slightly bends the contour of your nostril, secured by a thin strip of tape clinging tightly to your skin. It doesn’t mar you. Your dry, cracked lips still hold the outline of temptation — as if, even in a coma, they carry a heat that overshadows the sterility of this room.

A tracheostomy tube at the base of your neck breathes for you — a small, clean incision with a plastic cannula that rhythmically channels your breath. The hoses from the ventilator stretch toward you, flexible and taut, pumping air in steady pulses. I check the monitor — pulse 74, saturation 96%. Stable.

The bed creaks as I raise its edge, drawing closer to you — it makes your body rest more comfortably, and I feel the warmth of your skin cutting through the sterile chill of the ward. “You’ll like the massage, won’t you?” I whisper, kneading your arms to keep the blood flowing. My gloved fingers glide over your skin, but I imagine how it would feel without them — just you and me.

Your hospital gown is thin, barely held by its ties. “Let’s take it off, it’ll be better for you,” I say, untying the knots. The fabric slips away, revealing your chest, stomach, thighs.

But we have little time. “Time to try,” I whisper, placing my hand on the hose. Sometimes you can breathe on your own — I saw it last week when your lungs, weak but sure, took in air. Today, I want to try again. “Are you ready?” I ask softly, though your eyes are closed. I disconnect the ventilator — the machine’s hum fades, and you inhale. At first, it’s barely audible, then deeper. Your chest rises on its own, and I place my palm on it, feeling that faint warmth. My fingers tremble, catching the rhythm of your heart. Your skin flushes pink, and it’s mesmerizing — how your breath, barely noticeable, pulses with warmth beneath my fingers.

I take a sponge, soak it in warm water, and run it over you — slowly, feeling every curve. Droplets trickle down your skin, and I linger at your thigh, where it faintly quivers under my touch. My gaze slides to your lips, beckoning even in silence, and I freeze for a moment, unable to look away. Your stillness makes my heart race, and I breathe in your scent — a hint of antiseptic, a hint of you.

My lips tremble as they near yours — dry, cracked, but so warm they radiate your faint pulse of life. I pause, feeling the heat of your skin so close to my lips.

And then your eyelids flutter. At first, barely noticeable, then stronger. You open your eyes — weak, but with a faint spark. I can’t move. You inhale on your own, hoarsely, through the tracheostomy tube, and your fingers weakly clutch the sheet.

I touch your hand, barely containing my excitement, and a quiet warmth spreads through my chest, curving my lips into a restrained smile. I lean in and kiss you — gently, carefully, but with all the tenderness I can muster.

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Vivi Volunteers

Vivi could hear the nurses behind her preparing something, but it was hard to turn around with everything attached to her. They weren't talking, but the rustling and snapping noises were clear. It sounded like they were opening packages.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know what was next.

Vivi shifted in the chair a bit to try and get more comfortable, which was difficult. It was a hard vinyl-covered material, like an exam table, and didn't give much support. It occurred to her suddenly that the chair was probably meant to recline into an exam table. She definitely didn't want to think about that.

A dull ache between her legs forced her to stop moving for a moment. The yellow catheter emerging from her panties was caught on…something inside.

"Now, this is for your comfort, Vivian," the nurse had said as she slid it inside. "You might be sitting for a while."

That was thirty minutes ago, Vivi thought. What's taking so long?

Volunteering for a medical study seemed straightforward enough, or at least that's what the cute posters around town seemed to say. A little bit of time, a little bit of pay, and a little bit of bravery - isn't that what the nurse at the front desk had said?

But they wouldn't tell her in advance what the study was for…and now she was almost sorry she had come. When they asked her to undress, that kinds made sense. At least she was allowed to keep her underwear on, although it was weird that the nurse seemed to laugh at her lingerie.

Then then put the blood pressure cuff on, which - okay, that was fine. But then they put the EKG stickers on her, and things started to get weird. The beeping and the bonging from the machine was a little scary, actually.

"It's so we can listen to how you're doing, Vivian," the nurse had said.

And then they brought out the catheter. That seemed unnecessary. It pinched a little going in, and she could tell it was…in there. Embarrassed, she sheepishly looked down at the side of the chair where the bag was hanging. It was half-full…the pee had just come out of her! She blushed, and the EKG machine nearby went ping.

And the cuff kept inflating every five minutes. Her arm was starting to get sore.

What was next?

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