Chapter 5

“Hey there, fella! How are we feelin’ today?” Tuck walked briskly into the room and opened the blinds. Shards of light seeped in and fell across my face. “Now I know we can’t do much movin’ around while your head’s stuck in that nasty halo brace, but we’re gonna work with what we’ve got. You ready to get started?” I kept my eyes closed and remained silent. “Well, I can see we’re not Mr. Sociable today, so you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. I sure would like the company, though. But for now we’re gonna get goin’.”

With that said he pulled the covers off of me and down to the foot of the bed. My entire body was now exposed. I hadn’t seen it since the accident. One of the nurses told me that I’d been in a coma for 2 and half weeks. Even though I’m sure that in that amount of time it was impossible, my legs already seemed thinner. Both of them were covered up to my thighs in white elastic support stockings. My hospital gown had gotten pushed up to my waist, so I was horrified at what I saw next. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed that I never felt the need to go to the bathroom before now. I saw that my dick, looking so small and soft, was resting on my stomach. The horrifying part was the yellowish tube about the width of a straw winding its way out of my piss hole. After a few inches of tube had found its way out, the tube was taped to my stomach to keep it from sliding all over the place. I looked as far as my eyes would allow me and saw that a bag filled with my piss was hanging off the side of bed. I felt nauseated and closed my eyes. When I looked back down I noticed that there was a thick padding under my butt. It looked like half of a diaper.

At that very moment Tuck put one hand on the padding and the other arm under my legs. He lifted my legs and hips while removing the padding. He tossed (to my profound humiliation) the soiled padding in a garbage can to his right. I had no words to express the absolutely horrifying humiliation I felt at Tuck having seen me shit myself in bed.

Humming quietly to himself, Tuck took this all in stride. He carefully pushed my butt and legs over to the side so that my bare ass was facing him. He pulled some wet-wipes from a shelf overhead, and, after having made sure that it was clean and moist, began to wipe it back and forth across the dirtied area. “You know, Skelly. I know this isn’t the easiest thing in the world to go through. In fact, a lot of quads I’ve cared for tell me this is the hardest thing there is about being disabled like they are.” I shut my eyes and let him continue. “But I don’t want you worryin’ about this. I’m here to take care of things like this for you; things you can’t do yourself. I’m used to it and soon you will be too. So I know this is weird for right now, but just try to focus on something else. It’s easier that way.”

He was done soon after that and rolled me back over after putting fresh padding underneath. “Now on to the fun stuff”, he teasingly said. He walked over to the foot of my bed and picked up one of my feet. My stockinged foot hung limp and soft in his hand; my toes slightly curled in. He began by massaging the pad then moving on to the sole and heel. I can’t quite describe the feeling I got from watching him handle and caress a foot that belonged to me but couldn’t feel. It was the first of several strange feelings I would have over the time it took me to become acquainted with my body’s new state.

After handling both feet he moved on to my calves. He hoisted my right foot up onto his shoulder where it rested comfortably. With my leg elevated like this he was able to entirely reach the rest of my leg; calf, thigh, and hip included. This part was especially awkward for me because I was completely bare below my waist save for the half a diaper under my ass. At one point the back of Tuck’s hand swept against my ball sac while he was working on my upper, right thigh. I looked with further scrutiny at my genitals. My balls appeared to have shrunk up and decided to camp out next to my withered dick for good. Tuck looked as if he hadn’t even noticed the incident and continued on to the next leg.

After he was finished with my lower half, he moved up to my arms. He held up one of my hands for me to get a good look. “See here?” Tuck asked bringing my flaccid hand up to my face. He singled out the last three fingers on my hand which were slightly curled in, facing my palm. “This will only get much worse if you don’t exercise your hands on a regular basis.” With that said he pulled two small, squishy green balls from his pockets. He opened my hands slightly and placed a ball in each of their palms. But because I did not have any sensation at all in my hands and couldn’t grab them, he put two elastic straps around them, ensuring that my hands would not drop the ball and would continue to hold them. “You’re gonna hold these balls like this every day, okay? You don’t want your hands to be all gnarled and curled up. We can keep them soft and presentable like this.”

He leaned over to check the monitor beside my bed and turned back to me. “We’re gonna do just like today everyday until you get that halo off and can go downstairs for therapy. Now I'm gonna go, but before I do there's one last thing.” Instead of pulling the covers back up and restoring my dignity somewhat, he grabbed the bag of piss by my bed. Before I knew what was happening he had already replaced it with a new, fresh bag. “There. That should hold you off for a while. I’ll be comin’ back in to check on you every so often and will come feed you lunch in about an hour. But for now I want you to try an take a nap, okay?” The prospect of being feed my lunch did nothing for my esteem. I actually think I would have been happier just having a feeding tube plugged into my bellybutton rather than having Tuck wipe my shitty ass, then turn around and feed me lunch an hour later. It was just so…depressing.

I guess a lot of guys in my situation get depressed cause the hospital had a psychologist come in every few days to talk to me and ask me how I felt about things. My psychologist ended up prescribing me a little blue pill to take every morning with my cocktail of other legal drugs. Ha. Prescription drugs that actually had my name on the bottle. That was pretty amusing. But after a few days of taking that little blue pill, I didn’t feel so shitty all the time. I actually started to really look forward to the next week when my halo was going to be taken off.

I had been out of my coma and going strong for two weeks before I was allowed any visitors. One of the nurses held the phone on my bedside up to my ear when Ollie called. He, Zane, and Emmett were all on the other line and screaming over each other. I couldn’t hear any individual thing they were saying, but it felt really good just to hear the garble of them on the other end. At least one of them would call every few days for those two weeks just to check in on me.

So when I told Ollie that they could finally come see me in person they were stoked. I could hear how excited they were and tried to be happy with them. But I wasn’t looking forward to seeing them at all. Well, it was the other way around really. I wasn’t looking forward to them seeing me. I was absolutely terrified of them seeing my legs or the catheter taped to my thigh. I knew it would be awkward at first, but I also knew it that it would be irreversibly awkward if I shit myself while they were there. I knew it was something I had no control over and couldn’t help, but it’s kind of hard to explain to a bunch of guys why I’m wearing a diaper. I refused to eat anything the night before their first visit. After that, all I could do was hope for the best.

So the day of their first visit finally arrived. I knew they were coming around two in the afternoon so I called Tuck in to help me start getting ready around eleven. “Are you nervous?” Tuck asked as he ran a sponge over my bare stomach then dipped it back in the soapy water. I was completely naked except for the halo brace. By now, it didn’t even phase me. Tuck knew my body as well as I did. I also knew that it was pointless to be embarrassed about the way my body looked or what it did. Other people were going to be taking care of it from here on out. Being shy and awkward about it would just be a set-back.

I sighed. “Kind of. They haven’t seen me like this since the accident. I don’t think they really know what to expect.”

Tuck submerged the sponge in the warm water again and ran it over my increasingly thinning thighs. “Well, you told them everything, didn’t you?”

“Kind of, but not really. They know I hurt my neck.”

“That’s it! That’s the extent of what they know?! Honey, it’s gonna be quite a day.”

I didn’t say anything after that. I knew I should have explained to them in more detail a long time ago, but I could just never get it all out.

Because I couldn’t feel anything in my groin region, I didn’t notice until I looked down that Tuck was now giving my dick a thorough cleaning. I was relieved to find that, thankfully, today I didn’t have a hard on while he did this. Just yesterday my dick had joyfully popped up halfway through my bath. I couldn’t feel it, but was actually overjoyed to see it come to life. That is until I realized that I was being bathed by another man while this happened. Tuck didn’t mind, though. In fact, he got a little cheerier than usual after he noticed it. He also spent about five minutes longer cleaning that region than he usually did. And with a lot more care. I didn’t think anything about it at the time. That is until I remembered that Tuck was gay. And this time I wasn’t just guessing, Tuck had absent-mindedly said something about an ex-boyfriend a couple day earlier. I don’t have anything against gay guys, and I certainly don’t have anything against Tuck, but I’d never had an inkling to get it on with a guy. So I wasn’t really sure what Tuck was thinking when my usually soft dick sprang into action during my bath. I didn’t know how to bring it up either, so I just left it alone.

After he was done scrubbing me, Tuck dried me off, re-cathed me, and slid a fresh pad under my butt. He had been dressing me in sweats lately, which I was grateful for. Anything was better than the hospital gown that was constantly riding up, causing me to flash anyone who might enter the room at a given time. After he had wrestled the long, white elastic support stockings on my legs I asked Tuck to put a pair of thick socks on over my feet. I didn’t want the guys to see just how much my toes had curled in or how badly my feet had taken on an arch.

After securing the butt pad and making sure my catheter wasn’t going to leak, Tuck pulled a pair of grey sweatpants on over my ever-thinning legs. Because of the halo, the sweatshirt wouldn’t fit over my head, so Tuck actually brought one of the zip up hoodies from his own closet just for me to wear. Once my arms were pulled through the sleeves and the hoodie zipped up, he grabbed some of the extra pillows he had been propping me up with lately and started positioning them. The first one went under my knees while another was put on my lap with my, despite the squishy ball therapy, curled up hands placed on top of it.

“Did you want me to shave you today?” Tuck asked from the bathroom.

“No, it’s just the guys. I don’t want them to think I’m getting all fancied up just for them.” I glanced over at the clock on the far wall. 1:30. I knew the next 30 minutes would be the most stress-filled of all. I was already regretting not having told them the full extent of my injury. They knew I couldn’t get out of bed, but I don’t think they knew that I’d never be out of bed again unless I was sitting in a wheelchair.

To be continued...