Copyright© 2004 by Kien Reti
It's tough getting dates when your body is bent and twisted. Ben knew all about it. Ever since the accident three years back, women had given him a wide berth.
He had been a letterman in both high school and college. Football, baseball, wrestling, and even lacrosse one year. Picking up women had never been a problem. He'd always had a steady, and usually three or four others in reserve when his main squeeze was unavailable. He'd left a trail of broken hearts behind him when he moved to Boston to enter law school.
If he hadn't been blind drunk that night, he probably could have avoided the patch of ice. If he hadn't been doing 90 on a two-lane country road, he probably wouldn't have lost control and gone over the embankment when he hit the ice. It was sleeting heavily when his Hummer skidded and went through the guard rail, and the next thing he knew he was hurtling toward a dark shape and...
The surgeons had saved his eyesight and fixed up his mangled arms and legs. But they couldn't do much about a shattered spine. He was lucky he could still walk, even if only with a cane. But his back would aways be twisted and contorted. At 28, with all his life in front of him, Ben hobbled along like an old man, bent over and facing the ground. Bent-over and bent.
Benjie Bubbles his friends had called him in an earlier and happier time. He had been the golden boy, the intelligent jock, the guy who got all the girls, the man most likely to succeed. He had succeeded all right. Succeeded in destroying his life.
No career, no money, no prospects. Obviously he couldn't practice law when even a small flight of stairs could defeat him, and when he got bone-tired after sitting upright in a chair for more than a few minutes at a time. Not to mention that clients looked at him with a mixture of horror and pity. The partners at the law firm had, in effect, pensioned him off with what had at the time seemed like a generous cash settlement. A generous cash settlement that the hospitals and the doctors had greedily carved up among themselves.
The hardest part of it all was the lack of female companionship. He used to love the feel of a soft woman in his arms. It wasn't even so much the sex, though that had been delightful, too. It was the kissing, the talking, the interplay and the touching, even the occasional nuzzle and playful grab-ass. The sense of being part of a twosome, of something greater than himself... And here he lay confined in this nonfunctional wreck of a body, in his prison of isolation, cut off from the rest of the whole damned human race.
There was a new person coming later in the afternoon. The state agency sent nurse's aides and caretakers to check up on him, to change the bed linens, to do food shopping for him, and to help him with all the small tasks he needed to do for basic survival.
The bell chimed and Ben painfully limped to the door. Whoa! That was one hell of a good-looking redhead standing there. It was too much to hope for that this was the agency person, but she was in nurse's uniform, and hey, why not take in an eyeful while he had the chance.
"Hi! I'm Corliss Marlowe from the agency, and you're Benjamin Daniel Pinchbeck, right?" She had a bright, cheery voice and a luminous smile.
"C-come in, please," he managed. Man, was this broad built! Big-breasted, wide-hipped, curves out the wazoo. She had to be 5'10" easily, or maybe even a bit more, and she towered over his pitifully bent-over, twisted frame.
"Now, if you'd just sign and date this form, Ben, we can get right to business. It's a standard consent for treatment. Don't bother reading the fine print; it would only put you to sleep."
Corliss was a rehab specialist, she said. She had been assigned to try out on him an experimental type of physical therapy that sometimes proved helpful in cases of severe spinal nerve damage.
"First, a deep massage to relax and loosen you up. Here, let me help you turn over."
Ah, that felt good. Her strong hands kneaded and rubbed lotion into his neck and upper lower back. Ben was undressed, down to boxer shorts and Corliss leaned over him as he lay facedown on the bed.
"Now, stay as you are, Ben. The second phase of today's treatment involves a prostate massage. But first we'll need to get you clean inside. Squeaky clean. That means a full course of enemas."
Enemas? Ben wasn't sure he wanted any part of this. He groaned and started struggle upright.
"Sorry, Ben, that's not an option any more. I can't let you back out at this point. You did sign a consent, after all. Don't force me to use restraints."
Restraints? What was going on here?
"Please, be gentle, will you? My mother gave me an enema once when I was little, and it hurt."
"I'm very good at this, Ben. Just remember who's the professional here."
She put a firm hand on the small of his back and pressed him back down.
"Here, let's make you comfortable," she said as she slipped a pillow under his chin. He felt his shorts being pulled from the waist down to the knees, then she was rubbing some kind of aromatic cream into his bare buttocks. It did feel good, and he let himself sink into the mattress.
"This type of enema nozzle is specially designed to minimize discomfort, and I'll apply a dab of ointment to your opening to make things go even smoother."
Ben felt her gently probing the valley between his butt cheeks, then there was a cold and wet sensation on his bum hole... and something had slipped inside him. He jerked backwards, involuntarily.
"Relax, Ben. That was just my finger. I was lubricating your sphincter and checking the muscle tone there. Now I'm ready to insert the nozzle."
It didn't hurt at all going in. He was rather shocked when he found himself actually starting to enjoy the experience -- the sense of being cared for and nurtured, of having Corliss's free hand caressing his bare hind cheeks while she seated the business end of the enema hose in his bum hole. Of listening to her hum in a low murmur words he could almost, but not quite understand. Of sensing the warm liquid slowly trickle into him and feeling his guts gurgle and roil in response. It was comforting, and he was starting to get hard underneath. Strange. He couldn't remember getting an erection since before the accident. It was an unexpected affirmation of his manhood. It felt good.
"This is an infusion of mild Castile soap to clean you out. Since you're a beginner at this sort of thing, we're starting with half a quart. Now, see if you can hold it in for ten minutes."
His stomach had begun to cramp before she finished speaking. He gasped, then clamped down with his abdominal muscles.
"Good, Ben. Just a little longer. You're doing fine."
She helped support him as he limped into the bathroom, then stood watch as he noisily expelled fluid and gas and solid matter. Somehow, it didn't seem at all unnatural or intrusive to see her there in the doorway, looking down at him, witnessing his noisy bowel movement, hearing his defecation sounds and smelling the stench of his waste. He was still erect as he sat there naked on the toilet seat but it didn't occur to him to feel embarrassment. It was as if he had regressed back to a young child, and Corliss was the mother...
Ben was lying flat on his stomach on the bed again. Two more enemas, one of saline solution to "rinse out any remaining residue" and one of "electrolytes" had left him completely exhausted and he was starting to drift into sleep. Then he felt her comforting hands massaging his buttocks once more.
"We'll end today's treatment with a prostate massage. You'll find it rather enjoyable, I think."
Her finger found its way into him with almost no resistance and he felt himself being palpated and stroked from inside. It was both soothing and intense in a way that he had never before experienced -- being penetrated, opened up and turned inside out -- and there was an unfamiliar tingling sensation in his gut. It was as if an electric current were coursing through him. Then his body was releasing its aching need in a gentle, explosionless orgasm as the liquid seeped out from his softly throbbing organ underneath.
Corliss was massaging his neck, then she whispered goodbye into his ear and softly kissed him on the cheek. He heard the front door click shut.
"WHAT? There's no such person on your staff? That's impossible! She was here just a couple of hours ago!"
"In fact, Mr. Pinchbeck, it has been determined that you are no longer eligible for services and accordingly, your account has been closed. You would be well advised to apply for an emergency grant from Welfare."
Something very strange was going on here, Ben thought as he hung up the phone. The treatment had helped him, as his back pains were less intense and he could actually unbend a bit further than before when he stood up. But who the bloody hell was Corliss Marlowe, and what was she doing to him?
Four days later the bell rang. Damned if it wasn't that Corliss woman again. Should he let her in? Ben hesitated, torn between suspicion of her motives -- she was an impostor, after all -- and the uncontrollable urge to submit himself to her and her compelling touch. Oh, all right, he'd give her a chance to explain... but before he could unlock the door, Corliss had inserted a key in the lock and was letting herself in. Where in hell had she gotten a hold of a door key?
"What do you think you're -- "
.... There is more of this story ...