The doors to the Male Wing ICU of Saint Grace General Hospital hissed shut behind the gurney, sealing off the frantic, terrified world of the Hardcox women and ushering Sael into a realm of cold, clinical efficiency. The air here was different—sharper, sterilized, smelling of antiseptic and ozone.
The transfer of care was immediate and seamless. A team, pre-alerted and waiting, descended upon him, at the center was Doctor Meredith, a woman in her late forties with sharp, intelligent eyes the color of slate and brown hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun. Her movements were economical, precise, each gesture serving a purpose as she snapped on a fresh pair of gloves.
"CLAP! CLAP! Alright, people, let's get to work. I want a full panel—CBC, metabolic, endocrine, the works. Get a line in, lactated Ringer's, wide open. I want continuous EEG and EKG monitoring. Let's get his core temp,". She Claps her hand fulling everyone into attention. her voice calm but firm, cutting through the low hum of the monitoring equipment, issuing the command.
The nurses, all women, moved with a practiced synchronicity that spoke of training, but there was an undercurrent in the room—a palpable, electric sense of novelty. A male patient, and a young one at that, in this hospital, is a rare event.
The specialized equipment in this wing, from the larger blood pressure cuffs to the specific hormone test kits, wasn't often used. For many of the younger nurses, this was their first time. Their professionalism was absolute, but it was layered over a quiet, collective fascination and also lust. They weren't just treating a patient; they were participating in a medical event, and also appreciating the hunk on the table.
Dr. Meredith's eyes remained on Sael, noting the violent, involuntary muscle contractions, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the way his jaw was clenched so tight she feared for his teeth.
"It's okay, son," she said, her voice dropping from its professional cadence to something softer, more human.
"We're going to figure this out... Just hang in there.". She was talking to herself as much as to him, establishing her own focus against the strangeness of the case.
The first step was to get him out of his boxers and into a gown to properly assess him and attach the sensors. A nurse carefully began to cut the damp fabric away. And as the last piece of cloth was removed, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor seemed to falter for a second, not because of Sael's condition, but because the rhythm of the room itself had stopped.
The clinical lighting of the ICU was unforgiving, but on Sael's body, it became a worshipful spotlight. Every single member of the medical team, from the seasoned Dr. Meredith to the greenest intern, froze for a fraction of a second, their training momentarily overwhelmed by sheer, primal astonishment.
He wasn't just fit. He was a masterpiece of human anatomy. The muscles of his chest and abdomen weren't just defined; they were etched in detail, each one perfectly proportioned and flowing into the next like a topographical map of peak physical condition. His shoulders were broad and powerful, tapering to a narrow waist and hips where the deep grooves of the Adonis belt—the iliac furrow—cut a dramatic V-line down towards…
A collective, silent inhalation filled the room. Thanks to his state of agony and the recent, traumatic muscle contractions, every part of him was engorged with blood and tension. Nestled amidst that sculpted perfection was a thick, heavy, and impressively large mound, even in its flaccid state. The tight boxers had done little to conceal its size, but unfettered, it was a blatant, undeniable testament to overwhelming virility. It was so disproportionately, magnificently male that it seemed to suck the air out of the room.
A young nurse at the foot of the bed dropped a sensor pad. The sound of it hitting the floor was like a gunshot in the silence. Another let out a breathy, entirely involuntary whisper.
"Oh… my god.".
It wasn't a leer. It was a stunned, awe-struck acknowledgment of a biological spectacle none of them had ever encountered, even in textbooks. Dr. Meredith was the first to break the spell. She physically shook her head, as if clearing water from her ears, and her voice, when it came out, was like a whip crack of authority.
"Eyes on your work, people! Now! He is a patient in distress, not a museum exhibit… Get those leads on him!".
The effect was instantaneous. The nurses jolted back to reality, their cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and professional shame. They descended upon him again, their touches now brisk and efficient, attaching ECG pads to his chest, a blood pressure cuff on his bicep, an oxygen sensor on his finger. The spell was broken, but the atmosphere remained charged, a hum of suppressed the horny energy beneath the surface of clinical procedure.
Throughout it all, Dr. Meredith maintained a running dialogue with Sael, who was conscious but trapped behind a wall of pain, his eyes flickering open to slits.
"Okay, Sael, just putting a blood pressure cuff on… It's going to get tight, but don't worry it's normal.".
"We're starting an IV now… Just a small pinch.".
"I need you to try and relax for me…. I know it's hard.".
It was a technique to keep herself grounded, to reinforce his humanity and her role as his healer. As she worked, a nurse handed her a freshly printed sheet—his records, pulled from the central database.
Her eyes scanned the page, and she nodded slowly, a piece of the puzzle clicking into place.
"He's been on a high-dose regimen of androgen suppressants," she announced to the room, her tone now one of dawning understanding.
"And he hasn't replenished the supply in over two months… He's gone cold turkey." She looked down at Sael's tormented, God-like body, a new theory forming in her mind.
"This might be one hell of a rebound effect… Let's get those hormone levels stat, I want to see exactly what we're dealing with here.". Dr. Meredith felt that she had inkling of knowledge of what is going on to Sael body.
********************
The frantic energy of the ICU had given way to the serene, hushed atmosphere of the VIP suite. Sael lay in the center of the large, mechanized bed, now clean and dressed in a standard-issue gown. The violent tremors had subsided under the influence of a carefully calibrated sedative, leaving him in a deep, peaceful sleep. His features, relaxed now, looked even more like a classical sculpture in repose.
The door whispered open, and Dr. Meredith entered, a tablet in her hand. Her face was composed, the earlier intensity replaced by a calm, professional assurance. The five women of the Hardcox family—Cathy, Vera, Nadia, Bella, and Emily—who had been speaking in worried whispers around the sitting area, fell silent instantly, their eyes locking onto her with a unified, desperate hope.
"Mrs. Hardcox?". Dr. Meredith began, her gaze settling on Cathy.
"Yes. I'm his mother," Cathy said, standing up, her hands clenched tightly in front of her.
"Please, everyone, sit... He's stable and resting comfortably,". the doctor said, gesturing to the plush chairs. She took a seat opposite them, crossing her legs.
"We've run a full battery of tests, and I believe I have an answer for what happened.".
A collective, held breath was released in the room. Vera reached for Nadia's hand; Bella put an arm around Emily.
"From his records, we know Sael was on a long-term course of hormone-altering medication," Dr. Meredith explained, her tone educational but gentle.
"These medications effectively put his natural masculine development on pause…. And when he stopped taking them, it wasn't like turning a faucet back on, it was like…" She searched for the right metaphor. "It was like opening a floodgate that had been holding back a tidal wave for years….".
She leaned forward slightly.
"His body, desperate to correct what it perceived as a profound imbalance, began to overcompensate…. It started producing testosterone and other hormones at an extraordinary, frankly unprecedented rate. This 'hormonal rebound' is what caused the rapid physical changes you've all witnessed."
Cathy nodded slowly, tears welling in her eyes. "So, …it's our fault? We shouldn't have let him stop?".
"No, not at all, it's nobody fault," Dr. Meredith said firmly.
"Stopping was the right choice for his long-term health. This…" She gestured toward the sleeping Sael. "This is an extreme reaction, but it is a natural one… His biology is violently reasserting its true, male nature."
"By the way, the intense physical changes required stimulations…. Did he recently begin a strenuous exercise regimen?". She then began connecting the dots, her voice taking on the confident tone of a detective solving a case.
"Yes! He got really into bodyweight training. Push-ups, pull-ups… every day.". Bella was the first to nod.
"That would have hastened the muscle development, acting mostly as a catalyst, to his physique rapid changing," the doctor confirmed, making a note on her tablet.