Who You Calling Disabled? Ch. 01

This account is based on a real case and, of course, most of the personal details have been changed. The young lady is still living in special accommodation, with a full-time carer and still awaiting a life-partner.

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I'm a loss adjuster in the insurance industry. I work for myself and provide a contract service to insurance companies; to investigate claims against their policies, especially when there is some uncertainty or doubt over the claim or its magnitude.

People ask me why I got into this business and my joke-reply is that I found accountancy and auditing to be too exciting. So, OK; most people would regard my job as boring and repetitive and depressing; delving into tragedies and the lives of people who have suffered. But it's a good income and I'm good at it.

I was called in to the case of Akira Raukawa because her lawyers were claiming a whole lifetime of financial support after an airport runway collision over a year earlier. They claimed she was permanently and totally disabled; and therefore incapable of supporting herself: almost $20million to include an element for inflation over the next 45 years. She was a lone orphan aged 22 years, with no known family in her father's native New Zealand, nor her late mother's community in India. I was detailed to visit her in a special nursing facility near Auckland; to assess her condition and the extent of her claim. Nothing prepared me for my findings, nor the fact that she would change my life.

At my first meeting with Kira [as she was known to everyone] she was wheeled into the room, enclosed in a shiny steel frame that held her shoulders, her hips, her thighs and legs, and her feet in a fixed position. Only her arms and her head were free of the framework and was she able to move voluntarily. The rest of her body was immobilized in the metal framework which had 6-inch wheels at the floor.

But most noticeable was the injury to her spine and the need for the framework to bend her pelvis backwards through 90-degrees, so that her buttocks, hips and legs stuck out of the line of her spine. Second most-noticeable was the bodice, that contained her torso from breasts to hips. It was not made of metal but looked rigid, laced at the back and with a hard panel front. It was covered in a stiff material such as denim or coutil, and it made her waist much smaller than I had seen on any other woman.

I asked the surgeon and the nurse to explain her condition and they spent over an hour pointing at every part of her body. Her spine had been fractured at Lumbar 4-5 vertebrae and also at Cervical 7, behind her shoulders. Her injury was so extensive that repair surgery had been abandoned and she was fitted into the frame for the rest of her life. Her pelvis had been rotated backward by 90-degrees by the injury and now bone-growth had fixed it there.

Her anus pointed backward, parallel to the floor, and her vulva pointed vertically downward.

"She urinates freely but without warning, so she wears a diaper at all times. A catheter would be more convenient for the nurses but not comfortable for her", explained the surgeon, "But we need to clear her rectum every day. The peristalsis finishes before her sigmoid, and so she can't evacuate herself and will never be able to do so. And she still menstruates normally so we assume she is fertile. We haven't checked out her ovaries yet."

I have some knowledge of human anatomy, and so could just imagine her daily procedures.

"Come and look at this," he motioned round the frame.

He walked round Kira's back and lifted the gown to expose her pelvis. I was amazed to see a wide round black object inside her anus; about 3-inches across.

"She needs to wear this permanently, to prevent accidental evacuation. Over the past year, we have needed to increase its size and now it is almost the maximum diameter of her rear pelvic aperture. Now look at this, too."

He slipped his hand between Kira's legs as they pointed downward from her upturned pelvis, and tilted her body round on gimbals or pivots at her waist level. We were looking directly down and her vulva lips were stretched around another black circular object.

"That is a vulva-vaginal obdurator," he said, "it also has needed to increase in diameter but we remove it each day for hygiene purposes."

The surgeon leaned forward and pressed on the vulva plug, and Kira uttered a little mew, like a kitten. Her arms moved towards her waist and she arched her neck backwards.

"Oh, sorry," he said to her, but I saw that she was smiling and her eyes were closed. Clearly, she enjoyed that little touch on her vagina region.

The doctor continued, "Her skin still has sensation almost everywhere, and she has many other nerve functions but no muscle control in her lower limbs."

He took me to one side, out of Kira''s hearing, " Please make this clear in your report: she is permanently and totally disabled. A normal life will be impossible. She will require constant specialized care for the rest of her life; and that could be another 60 years."

Then he left the room and the nurse continued but only after a quiet confidential conversation with Kira.

"Kira wants me to tell you something special and unusual," she spoke softly as if not to be heard through the closed door.

"She has all the usual sensations connected to her female organs. Did you see her pleasure when the doctor touched her? In fact, she seems to have an enhanced reaction to physical manipulation or her erogenous zones. It may not be relevant to your report but she has become very dependent on sexual pleasure by hand. She is almost nymphomaniac I would say. She asks me to stimulate her many times each day and I got a vibrator to apply to her plugs and - ermmm - other parts; for her pleasure. Please don't tell the doctor about the vibrator or mention it in your report."

I replied, almost dumbfounded, "I've not heard of that before, arising from spinal injury. It may be relevant to her claim if it affects her mental state."

"I think it is a form of depression from her condition. She takes every possible pleasureable sensation whenever she can because the rest of her life is so depressing. But that's only my opinion and the doctor doesn't know about this," she explained, "Maybe I should mention it to a psychiatrist."

"Possibly," I replied lamely, "Let me go and draft the first version of my report. I'll come back tomorrow morning, if that is convenient."

At that point, Kira herself called out to me, "I want to talk to you myself, yes? Please, Alice [the nurse's name I assumed] let me talk to him privately."

After a little hesitation, Alice left the room and I moved round in front of Kira. She held out both her hands and I took them; partly out of politeness but also as a gesture of friendship. After all, I knew a such a lot about her.

"Alice didn't tell you everything. I want a man to please me and treat me like a woman. These people mean well but they treat me like a child. And they keep telling me that I'm disabled. But I'm a woman. I need sensations. Please understand me."

She pushed my right hand downwards and looked straight into my eyes, "Please put your hand down there and move it around for me. Please."

I did as she asked, let go of her hands, moved the gown out of the way and pressed my palm up between her displaced legs; pressing against the two plugs in her body. I jiggled my hand about and immediately her eyes closed, she threw her head back, uttered a little cry and smiled. She pressed both of her hands against her contained waist.

I maintain the movement for a minute or so and she came to an obvious orgasm. Her mouth opened wide and she took a deep breath, her arms shook and she gripped her waist even more firmly. Then she relaxed, smiling to herself.

"Thank you," she whispered after a few more seconds, "are you coming back tomorrow? Please will you please me again? It is so different from a man. Please."

I responded, in a daze of confusion and excitement, "Yes, I need to return tomorrow for my report. You are an excitable and exciting young woman."

We smiled at each other and I left.

That night I slept only a little, struggling with the memories of her excitement, the strange orientation of her lower body, the tightness of her waist, the look on her face. I did online searches for her symptoms and came up with "hypersexuality." That certainly seemed to fit Kira's situation and I was intrigued. I read avidly everything I could find on her condition.

The morning came slowly and I was waiting for it; and eager to see Kira again. Little did I know how she was going to affect my life in the weeks and months ahead.