Chapter 13

The next time I opened my eyes I was completely naked. Though shocked at first, I soon realized my mother was changing me. She was wearing her nightgown and her face was completely void of make up, though she didn’t need any in the first place. Not wanting to make awkward small talk while she cleaned my dick, I closed my eyes and pretended to have never woken. After cathing me for the night and attaching my leg bag, she slid the night pad under my butt.

I only stirred when she started dressing me for bed. Smiling down at me while she pulled my feet through the soft, cotton shorts, she whispered, “Oh good, you’re awake now. I know you’re probably not sleepy since you fell asleep around six, but it’s after eleven now and you’re father’s already in bed. Sid’s still awake upstairs, maybe you two can watch TV together until you fall asleep.”

After wrestling on the t-shirt I usually slept in, she rolled me over on my side and wedged a fluffy pillow behind my back. The contour pillow was placed back between my knees. I saw that my feet had soft, pillow-like booties fastened on them with a single, velcro strap. “I noticed your feet looked a little swollen after dinner. Those should help.”

She pressed a button by the head of my bed, causing it to tilt to a 120 degree sitting position. Now I could clearly see the TV if I turned my neck to the side. “I’m sorry, Skell, but I haven’t gotten around to getting you a headset TV remote. For now I’ll just leave it on whichever channel you like most. What do you want me to turn it to?” I told her Comedy Central would be fine. After turning it to The Daily Show she set the sleep timer for two hours. “Is there anything else you need before I got to bed? Water or a sandwich?”

I was actually starving from my unsuccessful attempt at dinner hours before but didn’t want to bother her. She was clearly tired. “No, I think I’m good. Thanks, though.”

She smiled before leaning down and kissing my forehead. She held my balled up fist in her own hand for a minute, lovingly stroking my curled fingers. Since Tuck wasn’t really around anymore, it was my mother who now made me feel like less of a freak just by being comfortable with my body. I was grateful that she didn’t seem repulsed by my hands and even went as far as to hold them. “Well, goodnight, Skell. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to roll you over.” With that said, she ran her hand over the top of my head before quietly walking back to her room.

I watched Comedy Central for the next hour and a half, somewhat dozing every now and then. I was startled when Sid suddenly appeared in the doorway and passed in front of the TV before entering the kitchen. It kind of irked me that anytime someone needed to get to the kitchen they had to come through my ‘room.’ There wasn’t really much privacy.

I could see Sid scavenging through the refrigerator against the bright kitchen light, clad in only his boxers. His hair was disheveled and wild-looking. Peeping his head around the corner, he squinted his eyes against the vibrant light. “Skelly, you awake?” he whispered. I nodded. “You want something to eat? I’m making toast.”

Figuring toast was a pretty safe venture and knowing I eventually had to eat, I told him he could make me some as well. Five minutes later Sid came back into the room with six pieces of toast and two glasses of milk. He sat down on the couch, placing the toast and juice on a rolling tray that fit over my bed. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“I think that I can actually hold the toast myself, but you’ll have to open my hand up and put the toast between my fingers.”

He nodded eagerly. “I can do that.”

Fearing that he would somehow hurt me, he gently pried my thumb away from the rest of my fist. After he inserted the toast he dipped a small straw in one of the glasses of milk. Things actually worked out pretty well. The toast slipped from my grasp only twice, but Sid adeptly fixed the situation. Soon the milk and toast were gone and Sid was yawning, stretched out on the couch beside me.

I woke back up at around one thirty when my mother rolled me over onto my right side. Sid shifted on the couch, and she yelped in surprise. “Sid, you scared me!” She placed a hand on her chest and inhaled deeply. “Go back to bed. I’ll take care of Skelly.”

Rubbing his eyes and suppressing a yawn, Sid sleepily ambled up the stairs to his room. My mom pulled a light, fleece blanket over my legs after checking my leg bag. She muttered to herself, “I’ll let your father get that in a couple hours.” Still squinting from sleep, she gathered the plate and cups Sid and me had used earlier and placed them in the sink. “Night, Skell,” she whispered before returning to her room.

I didn’t even notice the next three times whoever came in to resituate me. I only woke later that morning when I heard my father talking on the phone in the next room. I felt a little hot and swung at the blanket over my lap. Before falling to the floor, the blanket pushed my shorts up; revealing a bulging leg bag. I clumsily tried pushing them back down with my limp hands. Without their splints, they were completely useless.

I heard my father hang up the phone and walk into the room. I could only imagine what I looked like. His twenty-two year old son lying in bed, a quadriplegic dressed only in shorts and a t-shirt which revealed constantly thinning arms and legs; knees and elbows protruding through delicate skin. A full leg bag exposed, swollen with pale yellow urine. And worst of all, a diaper pad, probably soiled, under the ass of his vulnerable son.

I blushed even at my own thoughts. But instead of gawking at me in my helpless, morning state, my father simply came over and pulled my shorts down around my ankles. My face turned an even brighter shade of red as my soft dick was revealed. I looked away as he pulled the catheter out and removed the padding under my butt. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that, thankfully, I hadn’t shit myself during the night. He grabbed a diaper from the shelf and slid it on over my boney legs. He had to lean me forward, slightly, in order to pull the diaper all the way over my hips. This was the first time my father had ever helped me with something this personal. But he acted as if he’d done it a thousand times already. I guess it was better that way.

Because I’d been looking away, I hadn’t even noticed he had pulled my jeans from yesterday on over my lifeless legs. He left the pillow booties on my feet. I was beginning to have a slight distaste for those booties already. I didn’t like how useless they made my feet look. But I guess they looked useless enough on their own. My toes had now completely curled under and my feet had a constant slope. I sighed quietly as my father fished one of my shirts out from a duffel bag.

After dressing and feeding me, my mother came in to take over. “You know, Skell, there’re a lot of people who haven’t seen you in a long time. Missus Volkova has been asking about you. Remember the Volkovas? Their son, Sergei is about your age.”

I thought for a minute. “Yeah, I remember him.”

She sighed and looked at me solemnly. “He’s blind now. Uveitis, I think.”

That caught me off guard. I hadn’t heard about that. I tried to imagine Serg, as everyone called him, blind and tapping around with a cane. I just couldn’t. Every time I thought about Serg I thought tall and lean, dark features, and really good looking. I couldn’t even get a good mental image of Serg being handicapped. But when I really though about it, I’m sure it was hard for everyone else to think of me being a quadriplegic.

My mother spoke up again. “Well, I was thinking…since both you and Sergei have kind of gone through the same thing, I just thought that maybe you two would like to talk. You know Missus Volkova was always crazy about you.” She eyed me hopefully, waiting for my response.

“I guess that’d be okay. I don’t really know Serg, though. I’m not sure what we’d talk about.”

She just smiled and popped up, walking briskly to the phone. A mere five minutes later my mother had already planned out the entire day, starting with the Volkovas. “Ok, everything’s set,” she practically squealed, “I told Ivana we’d be there at one. She’s going to make lunch. I’m bringing dessert.”

To be continued...