Chelsey excitedly began to tell Matt all about the forced surgical biopsies he was about to undergo. While she animatedly talked Matt hazily watched his sexy surgical nurse Mother in-law still reeling from the how things had turned.

“To start Matt I’m going to take a small sample from your lower abdomen’s skin to check your health, than a tiny piece from your gorgeous scrotum to ensure it’s perfect, followed by a strip from your perineum to know your deepest tissue secrets, a needle biopsy from your thigh muscle to confirm your strength, a bone marrow sample from your pelvic bone to feel your very core, and a tiny sample from your prostate to ensure your sexual parts are flawless and all mine, darling. Ever inch of your body so I know your healthy for our love.”

Picking up a clipboard, she jotted notes, the pen scratching softly, “Switching to sevoflurane, 4% concentration, preparing for surgical biopsies,” her surgical gown crinkling as she leaned over the machine.

She checked the monitors, confirming, “Heart rate 90 bpm, blood pressure 110/70 mmHg, oxygen 98%, temperature 98.6°F perfect for me, darling.”

She adjusted the machine’s settings, her gloved fingers turning the dial to a 4% sevoflurane concentration, the keypad beeping rapidly, then powered on the anaesthesia machines extra functions, its deep, vibrating hum filling the suite, the rebreather bag inflating with a loud whoosh, its black rubber creaking as it swelled, the sharp hiss of sevoflurane surging through the tubing, flooding the Black Beauty mask with its sweet, chemical scent, the bag pulsing rhythmically with each of Matt’s shallow breaths.

Matt’s internal thoughts: ‘Her mask… gown… gloves squeaking… so sexy… can’t fight… don’t want to…so…..hazy…tired just want this sexual nightmare to end!’

His heart rate spiked to 90 bpm from sexual arousal, the monitors beeping faster, his eyes locked hazily on Chelsey’s surgical attire her deep green gown crinkling, her green surgical mask, her hazel eyes twinkling with obsession, her green surgical gloves squeaking as they flexed her fingers.

He tried to fight, twisting his head against the leather harness, its straps creaking, but the Black Beauty mask was clamped tightly, to his face forcing him to inhale the sweet, smelling gas.

“Oh, darling, I love that hazy look in your eyes,” Chelsey whispered, her voice thick with sexual desire, her surgical mask half-up, her lips close to his ear, her breath warm.

“You can’t fight this classic Black Beauty mask, my love, it’s sealed so perfectly, and it’s going to take you so deep for me. Just breathe for your nurse, start counting backwards from 100, my sweet captive patient.”

She squeezed the rebreather bag below the machine, the rubber compressing with a loud creak, forcing a rush of sevoflurane into his lungs with a hissing whoosh, the bag reinflating slowly, pulsing with his breaths.

She monitored the bispectral index (BIS) monitor, noting a reading of 40–60, confirming deep anesthesia, and adjusted the sevoflurane flow slightly to maintain stability, the machine’s digital display updating with each breath.

Matt gasped, unable to resist, his chest heaving erratically, his eyes wide with panic and arousal, the monitors beeping faster at 90 bpm.

He slurred, “Noooo… Chelseyyyy… stopppp…” his voice cracking, trying to hold his breath, his head straining against the harness, the mask’s seal tight.

“Shh, my love, just breathe for me,” Chelsey purred, her gloved hand stroking his cheek, softly, her hazel eyes twinkling with obsession.

“Count for me, darling, let the gas take you deeper.” Reluctantly, he began, “100… 99… n-no…” his voice faltering, his eyes fluttering wildly.

“Your hazy eyes are so sexy, my love, drifting off just for your nurse,” she whispered, her voice dripping with erotic possessiveness, her gloved fingers tracing his jaw.

“Keep counting, darling, you’re mine and when you wake up, you’ll be in a nice comfy recovery room with your sexy nurse beside you, caring for every inch of your perfect body.”

She squeezed the rebreather bag again, the rubber creaking loudly, sending another surge of sevoflurane, the mask hissing, the sweet scent overwhelming his senses.

Matt’s counting slowed, “98… n-no… 97…96…” his voice fragmenting, his chest rising and falling unevenly under the Velcro straps, his eyes dimming, pupils shrinking under the gas’s grip.

“Good boy, my darling, deep breaths for me,” she murmured, her surgical mask creasing deeply, her gloved hand caressing his cheek, latex squeaking, her hazel eyes twinkling, the monitors showing his heart rate dropping to 75 bpm, blood pressure falling to 100/65, the propofol haze increasing.

She adjusted the anesthesia machine’s controls, her gloved fingers calibrating the anesthesia machine’s vaporizer, setting the sevoflurane dial to a precise 4% concentration, ensuring a smooth transition to maintain deep sedation.

She checked the CO2 monitor, confirming Matt’s exhaled carbon dioxide levels at 35–40 mmHg, indicating stable ventilation.

“You’re mine, now my love just drifting off let the sevoflurane pull you under,” she whispered, her surgical gown crinkling as she leaned closer.

She squeezed the rebreather bag rhythmically, each compression sending a fresh whoosh of sevoflurane gas, the bag’s rubber creaking, the machine humming deeply, the monitors beeping steadily.

Matt struggled faintly, his voice slurring, “95… no more… please…” his chest heaving weakly, his lips forming words, “Claire… don’t…” his arousal and fear mingling, the monitors beeping faster briefly at 80 bpm.

“Shh, darling your dear nurse will take care of you,” Chelsey soothed, her gloved fingers stroking his forehead, softly.

“You can’t fight this, Matt, the gas is too strong, and I need you under deeply for these surgical biopsies to keep you perfect for our life together keep counting your almost there.”

She squeezed the bag again, the rubber creaking, the gas hissing, forcing another fresh surge of gas into his lungs, his counting slowing to “94… n-no… 93…” his voice a faint whisper, his head limp against the harness.

“Hmmm your surrendering to the gas its so sexy, darling,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire, her gloved hand tracing his jaw slowly.

“Keep breathing, my love, let the sevoflurane take you all the way under, your going to be mine forever this is only the beginning.”

She squeezed the rebreather bag again, the rubber creaking loudly, the gas surging, Matt’s counting faltering, “92… 91… nnnnn…” his voice dissolving into a faint moan, his chest rising slowly, the rebreather bag pulsing faintly below the machine, the mask hissing relentlessly.

“That’s it, my darling, surrender to me,” Chelsey purred, her surgical mask creasing deeply, her gloved fingers caressing his face.

“You’re going to dreamland now, my love, safe in my hands.”

Matt’s final slurred words, “Chel… sey…” faded into silence as his eyes went hazy, his breathing slow and shallow, the Black Beauty mask hissing steadily.

Chelsey checked his pupils one last time, shining the penlight, its beam clicking on, watching his pupils barely shrink, showing them small and sluggish.

“Pupils are nice and small, perfect for deep sedation,” she murmured, jotting an updated note on the clipboard, “Sevoflurane at 4%, stable sedation,” the pen scratching softly.

She verified the capnography waveform, its sharp peaks and troughs indicating consistent breathing, and checked the pulse oximeter, ensuring oxygen saturation remained at 97%.

Reaching for a small tube of ophthalmic lubricant, its cap clicking as she opened it, she gently squeezed a thin line into each eye, murmuring, “Your eyes need to stay safe my darling while I operate on you.”

The cool gel glistened under the surgical light, her gloved fingers squeaking as she spread it gently.

She grasped a roll of medical tape, its adhesive crinkling as she tore off two strips, and carefully taped Matts eyes closed, pressing the tape smoothly against his eyelids, saying, “Now you’re all mine, my love, resting safely under my touch.”

Sitting on the stool, her surgical gown crinkling softly, she leaned closer, her hazel eyes twinkling with love, her gloved hand stroking his cheek, as she spoke to his unconscious form.

“Now, my darling, I’m going to perform are list of surgical biopsies to ensure every inch of your body is perfectly healthy for me. I need to know every part of you, my love, to make you flawless for our life together. These tests are my way of claiming every part of you dear, keeping you perfect under my hands.”

Her thoughts: ‘His body’s all mine ready for me, and my pussy is trembling with excitement.’

She reached for here phone on a nearby stand, its plastic surface gleaming under the surgical light, and dialed her daughter Claire, her surgical gloves squeaking as she pressed the screen, the dial tone humming softly.

As she hit speaker and set it on the mayo stand beside her, as she leaned over Matt’s unconscious face, her green surgical gown crinkling softly, its waterproof coating catching the surgical light.

As the phone range her gloved fingers slowly traced, deliberate circles across Matts face, the latex squeaking faintly as her finger tips glided over his face.

She lingered on his high cheekbones, then slid upward, stroking his hair gently, the gloves squeaking softly as they wove through his thick hair possessively.

Her hazel eyes sparkled with a heady mix of happiness and arousal, as she gazed at her helpless lover, strapped to operating the table, entirely hers to control and use.

A flush warmed her cheeks beneath her surgical mask, its taut fabric creasing as her lips curved into a triumphant smile, her breath quickening slightly with the thrill of control.

Her gloved thumb brushed gently over his taped eyelids, savouring his submission, her heart racing with the erotic power of owning every inch of Matt’s body.

Her surgical gown rustled as she shifted closer, her body trembling with excitement, the monitors’ steady beeps a rhythmic backdrop.

As the phone rang she got ready to speak to her daughter Clair her voice primed to be calm but laced with manipulative reassurance, her hazel eyes twinkling with a dangerous intent, her surgical mask creasing further as her smile widened as her dear daughter picked up after the fifth ring.

(Phone Conversation)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Clair: “Mom ohh thank god I was getting so worried after your text about Matt is he ok mom, tell me what going on?”

Chelsey: “Claire, sweetheart, breathe ok you sound so flustered. I’m with Matt in my medical suite, and I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Claire: “Oh God, Mom, what’s wrong? Is he okay?”

Chelsey: “He’s going to be fine, darling, don’t worry, but he’s very sick. I had some tests run, and Matt has a severe COVID infection. He has a high fever, and he’s been coughing terribly, the poor boy could barely breathe when he finished his quarantine in the garage.”

Claire: “COVID? Oh no, that’s awful! How did this happen? He seemed fine when he left to go see you!”

Chelsey: “It hit him fast, sweetheart. These things can come on suddenly, especially with this Covid strain. I’ve got him in isolation here in my medical suite, and I’m personally overseeing his care. As a surgical nurse, I know exactly what he needs IV fluids, oxygen support, and close monitoring to keep his vitals stable.”

Claire: “Mom, what’s that humming and hissing noise? Is that an anesthesia machine? Why in the world is Matt on one?”

Chelsey: “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t want to worry you, but his fever spiked dangerously high, and he got a bit violent and delirious thrashing and confused, poor boy. For his safety and mine, I had to secure him with restraints and put him under fully with the anesthesia machine, to him calm and stable, darling.”

Claire: “Violent? That doesn’t sound like Matt! Mom, I’m freaking out what’s going on?” Her voice sharpened, the faint rustle of her shifting audible in the background.

Chelsey: “Shh, darling, I know it’s upsetting news, but I’ve got everything under control. As a surgical nurse, I’ve handled infections cases like his before and it’s not uncommon for patients to get confused and violent with high fevers. The restraints are soft, and the sevoflurane is keeping him haze, perfectly safe. I’m right here, watching the monitors to ensure he’s stable. His heart rate’s steady at 60 beats per minute, oxygen at 97% he’s resting comfortably, my love.”

Claire: “This is all too much, Mom! Why didn’t you tell me he was that bad? I’m his wife I should know!” Her voice cracked, irritation mixing with worry, the distant sound of her pacing faintly audible.

Chelsey: “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t want to scare you until I had him fully stabilized. My years in the operating room taught me to act fast. When he started acting confused and violent, I had to make a quick call to protect him. The anesthesia machine’s is just ensuring he’s calm, keeping him safe in my surgical suite. I’m watching him like a hawk, darling, making sure he’s cared for.”

Claire: “Okay, mom but this is freaking me out. Can you wake him up? Can I talk to him?”

Chelsey: “Not right now, darling, he’s resting. The medications have him sedated heavily to help his body fight the infection. He’s stable, though heart rate at 60 beats per minute, oxygen saturation at 97%, temperature down to 99.2°F.”

Claire: “That sounds so serious. How long will he need to stay there?”

Chelsey: “At least 10 days, maybe more, sweetheart. COVID protocols require strict isolation, and with his condition, we can’t take any chances. I’ve converted a room into a private exam room here, and I’ll be with him day and night, ensuring he gets the best care possible. No visitors, of course, to prevent any spread of Covid infection.”

Claire: “Ten days? That’s so long! I feel so helpless. Should I come down there anyway?”

Chelsey: “No, no, darling, you mustn’t. It’s too risky you could get infected, and I’d never forgive myself. Besides, I’ve got everything under control. I’m administering his medications, checking his vitals every hour, and I’ve even sent tissue samples to the hospital lab to confirm his overall health. I’ll have those results soon, and they’ll help me tailor his treatment perfectly.”

Claire: “You’re amazing, Mom. I’m so glad he’s with you. What kind of samples?”

Chelsey: “Just routine ones, sweetheart blood, skin, and a few others to make sure there’s nothing else going on. My years as a surgical nurse have taught me to be thorough. I’ve handled dozens of cases like this, assisting with everything from infection control to pain management, so Matt’s in the best hands. I’m keeping him safe from COVID and everyone else.”

Claire: “I don’t know how to thank you. I was so worried when he didn’t come home last night.”

Chelsey: “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to thank me. He’s family, and I’d do anything to keep him safe. He’s resting comfortably now, and I’m making sure he feels cared for.”

Claire: “He’s not in pain or anything right mum?”

Chelsey: “Not at all, darling. The sedatives keep him completely comfortable no pain, just a nice warm haze wrapping around him. I’ll stay right by his side, day and night, to make sure he recovers fully.”

Claire: “Mom, you’re a lifesaver. Can you let me know when he wakes up? I just want to hear his voice.”

Chelsey: “Of course, sweetheart, the moment he’s awake, and strong enough, I’ll have him call you. But it might be a few days he needs to stay under deep sedation for now to help his body recover. I’m adjusting his sevoflurane levels myself, ensuring he’s stable.”

Claire: “Okay, I trust you, Mom. Please keep me updated, even if it’s just a text.”

Chelsey: “I will, darling, everyday. I’ll send you his vitals and let you know how he’s progressing. He’s mine to care for now, Claire, and I won’t let anything happen to him I promise.”

Claire: “Thank you so much, Mom. I feel better knowing you’re there. Tell him I love him when he wakes up.”

Chelsey: “I will, sweetheart. He’s safe with me, and I’ll make sure he knows you’re thinking of him. Now, you take care of yourself and don’t worry I’ve got Matt locked away in my surgical suite, perfectly safe. I’ll call you tomorrow with an update.”

Claire: “Okay, Mom. I love you.”

Chelsey: “Love you too, darling. Get some rest now.”

(End of Phone Call)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She disconnected the call, Chelsey’s hazel eyes twinkled with triumph, her surgical gloves squeaking as she resumed stroking Matt’s hair, the latex gliding smoothly through his hair.

She leaned closer, and continued to talk to his unconscious form.

“This is just the beginning, my darling,” she whispered, her voice soft and possessive, her hazel eyes gleaming. “When you wake, you’ll be in a comfy recovery room, safe with your sexy nurse who will own every inch of you. I’ll explore your sexy body with kinky play. I will wear sexy outfits for you, as I tease your gorgeous new cock, latex will clinging to my curves, stockings tight on my thighs as I keep you under my control, use gloved sensory exams to feel every inch of your body.”

“I’ll restrain you in soft cuffs, my love, keeping you mine during every touch. I might even do more surgeries, darling, to keep you here, minor tweaks to perfect your body for me alone. You’re all mine and I will, hide you away where no one can find you.”

Chelsey stood, her surgical gown crinkling loudly, her hazel eyes twinkling with anticipation, as she walked to the mayo stand, her clogs tapping, ready to prepare for the next phase, and get her instruments prepared for the surgical biopsies ahead.

End: Chapter 5