Squeaky Clean

Flush.

Mary, the nurse's aide, is squatted down in front of the commode chair I'm seated in. She's a stout, pale woman with short brown hair. She's roughly sixty, and constantly reeks of cigarette smoke.

Mary stands up to discard her gloves, and don fresh ones. She returns a second later with a roll of toilet paper and once again assumes the position. I can hear her joints pop and crackle as she squats in front of me. Mary's left hand gently scoops under my unfeeling balls and wraps her fingers around my limp, numb shaft. She lifts my useless package up and out of the way so her right hand can wipe my ass. Mary moves in short, gentle strokes.

She's efficient, too. It's been almost nine months since I broke my neck, and in those nine months I've lost track of exactly how many hands have had the privilege of wiping me. Some people are just naturally better at wiping than others, I suppose. Some people are just wasteful, both time and resource-wise. I had one nurse who just couldn't call clean enough, clean enough! On the opposite side, I've had some nurses just there to pick up a check. They left me with fucking skidmarks.

Flush.

Mary stands up to wash her hands, and put on some fresh gloves. She walks back over to the commode, and asks if I'm ready for my shower, as if it were an actual question. I try to think of something smart-assed, but I'm just not quick enough.

The bathrooms at Jones Manor are probably the only good part. Cozy little wetrooms with a toilet smack dab in the middle, and a wall-mounted shower off to the left. The official reason was to reduce transfers, and to conserve time and resident/caregiver energy. An unseen bonus was not having to worry about the occasional "accident" in the shower. Lord knows I've had my share.

Mary turns on the shower, and tests it on her skin. When it's warm, she moves the water up my shoulder, neck, and finally gently onto my face. I tell her it's at a good temperature. Mary holds the showerhead above me, and I can feel the water soaking over my head and down my shoulders, but then nothing past my collarbone. Mary asks if I'd like my hair washed, I tell her just to run the bar of soap over it.

Mary's short, stubby fingers feel blissful as they massage the lather into my scalp, and down and behind my ears. This is the only part of the shower I can completely feel, and it feels like heaven.

I can almost ignore the lingering stench of cigarette as Mary gently rubs the soap over my forehead and face. She tells me to close my eyes, and she rinses off my head and shoulders. It's the closest I've felt to warm, summer rain in almost a year. The closest I might ever get to feeling the real thing.

I feel the showerhead move off of my head, and I open my eyes. Mary begins to rinse off my chest, slowly moving the water down my thin, flat stomach. My dense brown pubic hair becomes saturated with the runoff. She pulls the water up, and moves to my right arm, soaking the limb from shoulder to fingertip. She moves over to my left arm, and does the same.

Mary pauses the showerhead, and uses the soap to rub small circles on my chest. I can feel the high parts, but not the low, and she's definitely using some elbow grease. She moves down to my stomach, and she's moving quickly from side to side, getting both sides of my ribs. I saw her checking her watch during my bowel routine, I'm wondering if she's behind schedule.

Mary uses her soap to massage a nice lather into my pubes, she's a tad more gentle this time. She stops right at the base, and moves up to my right shoulder. What a tease.

Mary starts to scrub my right arm on the outside from top to bottom, then scrubs the inside of the arm from bottom to top. She gently raises my right arm, and washes my armpit. I've never been a super muscular dude, so the muscle atrophy hasn't been super noticeable, I'm used to being small. But I've gotta admit that watching Mary's massive arms move and fold my tiny toothpick arms like I'm an action figure is super emasculating. My left arm is washed the same way, although she knows that I have an artificial shoulder on that arm, so she's pretty careful.

Mary bends over, and starts to scrub the top of my left thigh, and moves down to my knee. She picks up my left foot and straightens out my leg, ever so slightly. Mary begins to wash my knee and moves down my shin and ankle to my crippled little left foot.

Mary runs the soap over the top of my paralyzed foot and then over the ball and heel. She uses her fingers to gently rub the soap in between my toes. Watching Mary handle my numb, ruined feet makes me miss being tickled. And I fucking hated being tickled, back in those days. Once my left foot is clean, Mary rubs the soap up my calf and behind my knee. She manipulates the leg to get the back of my thigh, sudsing me right up to my butt. Mary lathers the inside of my left thigh, before gently placing my foot back into the footrest of the commode. My right leg is washed in the exact same fashion. She makes a comment about the tattoo above my right knee, I make some dumb joke and we share a forced laugh. I wonder If she's gonna say anything about the tattoo on my ass.

Once both feet are back in the footrest, Mary squats down. On cue, her joints let themselves be known, with a vengeance. She curses under her breath.

Mary wraps her gloved fingers of her left hand around my comatose cock, and points the tip toward the sky. Her right hand moves in a circular motion, sudsing up my slumbering testes. Mary moves her hand ever so slightly south, to reach under my balls and taint.

Mary lowers the penis attached to me, and begins to soap it up from the base to the tip. I'm about six inches, hard or soft. And it was usually right around this part of the shower that I got hard. Today wasn't any different. Mary's a total pro, she doesn't say a word. I've even been told it's easier to clean when I'm hard, but that could just as well be a lie. Mary uses her fingers to spread the soap under and around my numb, hard cock. She ducks her hand under the commode seat, giving my hole and the inside of my cheeks a nice once-over.

Mary turns the showerhead back on, and rinses off my crotch. She lifts my paralyzed member to rinse underneath it, and to rinse my balls off as well. Mary lowers her hand under me to rinse off my ass and gooch. Once my genitals are soap-free, Mary rinses each of my legs from hip to toe, lifting each one to fully rinse underneath. She's a little too quick putting my unmoving right foot back into the seat, and it falls out. She apologizes, shit happens. It didn't feel good though, being totally helpless and manhandled by Nurse Ratched.

Mary rinses off my chest, moving down to my belly. She's diligent, making sure all of the soap flows downward and rinses away. I can feel the water on the top of my chest, it's a nice treat. She's really in a hurry now, she rinses my arms off quickly. I have to remind her to rinse off my armpits. She doesn't try to cover or hide her omission, but she doesn't really acknowledge it either. Mary uses the showerhead to give me one last blast from top to bottom, before shutting off the water. She grabs a towel, and pats my head and shoulders dry. Even throught the steam, soap and gloves, I can smell her fucking cigarette fingers! She pats the outside of my limbs dry in a quick and crude fashion, before folding the towel and neatly tucking it in between my thighs, concealing my crippled unit. She unlocks the brakes and begins wheeling me toward my bedroom hurriedly. She explains that it's 9:30 PM, half an hour past lights out.

Mary jokes that I take too long in the shower. I ask why I don't feel clean.