On our way to the hospital, Mr. Hammerschmidt says that he’s just going to jump out over the Pacific and swim home (he has a mansion on the water). We all share a four-way kiss (the pilot, Christian, Mr. Hammerschmidt, and myself) before he goes. I’m so glad that Christian and Mr. Hammerschmidt were able to move past their differences and begin a sexual friendship; it will certainly make my professional life easier.
We make it to the roof of the Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital, the same one where Meredith Grey works. Meredith meets us on the roof, and she looks as gorgeous as she does on TV.
“Hi, Christian and Anastasia! Please follow me,” she says.
We get into a glass elevator with her and take it down to the penthouse operating room. It’s very extravagant and lovely: full glass windows looking out on the ocean and Seattle skyline, a hot tub, and of course an operating table and medical supplies.
I graze Meredith’s supple buttocks with my finger. “Mer...” I whisper sexily. “Is there any way we could have McSteamy operate on Christian?”
Meredith looks confused. “Anastasia, I’m sorry but McSteamy died in a horrible accident years ago.”
“Fuck. That sucks. I’m sorry. I had no idea,” I say. “What about McDreamy?”
“You mean my husband? He died a few years ago. Car accident.”
“Shit! God, that really sucks. Are there any other hot doctors around?”
“Of course! Our chief of surgery is a very talented, handsome man. You’re in excellent hands.”
As if on cue, a very handsome doctor walks into the penthouse. Tall, with olive skin, bulging muscles, and covered in body hair. I can see he has a massive, rock hard dong underneath his scrubs.
He approaches us, smiling, and extends his hand to Christian.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Grey. I’m Dr. McHog.”
He turns to me and gives me a once over.
“And this must be your beautiful wife. Au chante, mademoiselle.” While staring into my eyes, he takes my hand and gives it a wet smooch. I can’t help myself, I’m giggling like a schoolgirl.
“And what seems to be the problem today?”
Christian holds up his mangled, deformed hand. “Got into a bit of a scuffle defending my wife’s honor. You know how it is,” Christian says.
“DO I EVER! Man, if I had a nickel for every time I lost a body part defending my wife’s honor and had to get that body part replaced, I’d be a very rich man” McHog and Christian laugh and laugh. Meredith and I roll our eyes at each other; boys can be so silly.
"Well, that should be no problem at all Christian. Just lie back, relax, and we’ll get you zooted up with some brand new fingies in no time,” McHog says. He has such a wonderful, calming demeanor. I have no doubt he’ll treat my Christian very well.
Christian lays down on the operating table and McHog knocks him out with some primo anesthesia.
“Oooo. Can I have some of that?” I ask him.
“Well, sure. But just a little.” He gives me just a little anesthesia; Meredith also partakes, and we spend the next 2-6 hours giggling like children and squeezing each other’s breasts.
Finally McHog announces, “Success! Christian, it’s time to wake up.”
I run over to my baby’s bedside. His eyes flutter open and he holds up his new hand for us all to see. I gasp when I see it: McHog has fastened two robo-fingers where Christian’s normal fingers used to be. They start moving around erratically, making beep boop noises.
“Is that normal?” I ask McHog.
“Perfectly normal! We’ll need to get Christian used to his new robo-fingers with some rehabilitation. Dont worry -- before long, he’ll be better than ever.”
“Do you like it baby?” Christian asks me, delirious.
“I love it...” And I really mean it.