I Just woke up. Not shure where I was. I was confused, and disorantated. As far as I could tell, I was stuck in some kind of dungen. I had been having strange dreams, dreams of people poking and proding me with all sorts of torture devices. And some guy trying to poison me with radiaion. All of this made no sence. I had tubes stuck in all the wrong places. One large one in my arm, attached to some kind of stand. Oviously to keep me druged up, and from fighting my captors back. And another one that went inside my penis. Ovously there to keep me chained down. I looked around letting my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. I still didn't know where I was, but I saw a woman sleeping in a comfey chair at about 2oclock from me. Not knowing who this person was, or what thier intentions where, I kept very quiet...as to not wake them if they happend to be a guard. I could soon see almost clearly. Looking around again, I noticed I was in a strange bed with wheels, and levers to adjust it. WTF? I thought, this is not right, I didn't exactly know what right was at the moment from all the drugs they had been pumping into me to keep my subduded. Thinking about this again, I removed the tube from my left arm. They can't hold me down. NO!. After a few more minuits, I started to hurt all over. Withdrawl, I though. Most likely. Ignoring the pain, I pulled the covers off of me to examine more closely what had been done to my body. My left leg was in a cast. My tormentors had ovously broken it very badly, but patched it up, so they could do it again, and my right arm hurt like hell. I couldn't move my fingers very well due to the pain. But, alas...I had to get out of this dungen. The tube going into my penis was hooked to a bag of urine. HMM...I know what this is...but I can't remember the name of it. Moving on to more inportant matters, I sliped out of the bed carefully as not to make any noise. It felt like Somebody had poked thousands of nails into my left leg all of a sudden when I put weight on it. Danm, I thought. Hopping around on my right leg, I found a door, and opened it. On the other side of the door was a light so brint I had to quickly close the door again. But while the door was open, I realized that I was not wearing pants. This drove me into a fit of rage...Who the hell stole my pants. Unshure of who to blame for this, and what to do about it, Since I was not going to try to sneak out of this dungen without pants...that would be silly. I got back into the bed, and went to sleep. I woke up to a young girl standing over me, she was maby 19. She was pushing a button on the wall behind me, and talking franticly to somebody over an intercom. As soon as I realized what was going on, I started screaming "Who the hell are you, and where are my fucking pants!!!". Well, needless to say, this took the girl by suprize. She started to explain to me that I was in the hospitle, and the no pants syndrome was very common here, and not to worry about it. Then continued on by chewing me out for removing the tube from my arm, and asked me what I thought I was doing. I smiled, and looked her directly in the eye, and said in a calm voice. I was trying to find my pants you fucking cunt. Apparently she did not like what I said, because she stormed out of the room. A little bit later, she came back with a tall skinny man dressed all in white. He proceded to put the tube back, and tape it on realy good, and told me not to take it out again. I questioned him for my pants, and he said that due to the damage, they had to be cut off, and where thrown away. After thinking for a few seconds, I decided the most logical thing to ask next. "Will you get me some new pants?". He was taken aback by this comment slightly, and said that it would be taken care of, but not for a few more days yet. At this point, I was fully coherent, and in more pain than I had ever thought possible before in my life. But still staid calm, mostly due to being coherent. Not much longer, and my dad walked in, and he explained that I was in a car crash. This did not please me at all. But he noted that I would be fine if I followed the nice doctors orders, and didn't try to sneak out again. "OK" was about all I could udder consedering the circumstances. I gave the request of new pants to my father, and the next time I woke up, thier was a nice new pair of black slacks hanging on the coatrack at about 10oclock. I was happy. I finaly had pants. Even though I could not exactly put them on, it just made me feel happy that I had pants again...

The moral of this story, Always know where your pants are.