opensky142857

So, in my poll the majority voted for "My story with braces". Well, then, it started when i was a teenager. I had scoliosis and i wore a classic Milwaukee brace with chin pad for several years. First 23 hours a day, then decreased when i got better. I hated the humiliation of being stared and forced to be immobile, but i also kind of enjoyed the restriction. When i met my bf, years later, i told him about this and he asked me to retrieve the brace i kept at my parents'. I started to wear it sometimes for fun (i found out it still fit, a bit tight) and then we started playing along. My bf was very into medical bondage when we met and he also works in the medical field, so he encouraged me to wear the brace often. At the beginning i was extremely shy and did not want to, but i learned to be open to experiences and remember when it felt sort of good wearing it in my teenage years. So i began to accept to wear it outside, in places i didnt know anyone. People still stared, and my bf

I awake to the smell of coffee brewing. I’ve always liked the smell but I could never get into actually drinking it. The bitterness of it is so off-putting to me. Spencer loves the stuff, the man could drink a gallon of it a day if you let him. I’m lying on my back. I try to sit up but my lack of usable arms doesn’t allow it. I’ll need to build up my core over the next few months. Instead, I use my legs to kick off the covers and leverage them against the edge of the bed to pull myself upright. My arms flop at my sides and my t-shirt has rolled itself up to the underside of my breasts, annoying me. Naturally, I try to reach up and pull my shirt down to no avail. I sigh. I stand and walk out of the bedroom to the bathroom, quickly realizing I can’t even open the closed door. I walk to the main room of the house, Spencer isn’t in it either. I check the back door and see him sitting on the patio, cup of coffee in hand. The early morning sun is still so low that it hasn’t shone on the beach yet. Winter in Costa Rica is still incredibly warm. Spencer is wearing only a pair of trunks, his shirt brown hair goes in whichever direction it was when he woke up. The door is closed so I have to kick it to get his attention. He quickly stands and opens the door for me. “Two days in a row getting up before you, Alex? That’s got to be a record.” “We can chit chat in a second, babe, but I need to pee and I need your help.” He looks at me with concern and quickly comes inside. He opens the bathroom door for me. “What do you need help with?” “I can’t use my hands, goofy, I need you to pull my panties down so I don’t piss in them.” His face turns red from embarrassment. He doesn’t say a word, he just does as I ask. After I finish I call to him again, standing outside the door. “I need you to wipe too, babe.” He returns, face still red. He must not have considered this part of his surprise paralyzation when he was planning it. I’m sure I’ll figure out how to do it all myself with enough time. “What are we doing today?” I ask him after he pulls my panties back up and washed his hands. “Whatever you want to do, honey.” He replies. “Why don’t we take a walk on the beach before it gets too hot? I don’t want to wear shoes on the beach if I don’t have to.” “You got it. I’m assuming you’ll need help getting dressed too?” “Clearly.” I say, smirking at him. We return to the bedroom where he pulls my suitcase from the small closet and removes the winter coat from it. I won’t need it here anyways. I eye a blue one piece that he packed for me. “That one.” I say. “The blue one?” He asks. “Yes, help me put that one on.” He pulls my t-shirt off, revealing my naked chest. The panties follow. I’ve spent weeks with my arms restrained before but now, with nothing physically holding them in place, I feel truly naked. He positions the swimsuit under my feet and pulls it up. He has to pull my limp arms through the armholes, still an odd sensation not being able to feel them at all. “Do you want a coverup or anything over this?” He asks. “No, I don’t think I’ll need it. This is kinda fun, having you do everything for me.” “I am happy to oblige, m’lady.” He says, bowing to me. I laugh, he laughs. He grabs our sunglasses and we head out the back door. The steps down to the beach are wooden and old, the deck itself creaks beneath our feet. Spencer leads as I follow. The steps are even louder. *CRACK* The step beneath my leading right foot gives way as I put my weight into it and it breaks in half, the fall is only about a foot to the sand below but with no way to balance myself, I end up falling forward and to the side at the same time, slamming into the wooden railing. Spencer is able to catch me, but not before I hurt myself. My side hurts tremendously and my left shoulder aches. My right arm is bleeding but I can’t feel it. Spencer helps me back up the broken stairs and sits me in one on the couch. He calls for emergency services since we have no way of getting to a hospital. “Great start to our vacation, huh?” I say, wincing in pain as I talk. “It could always be worse. They said it’ll be a few minutes before they can get here so just sit tight.” He goes and grabs a towel from the bathroom to wrap around my bloody arm. An ambulance arrives soon after, thankfully one of them speaks English. They ask me what happened, does anything hurt, the usual. A pair of men load me onto a stretcher as Spencer shows another one the broken stairs. They soon return and jump in the back of the ambulance with me. The one who speaks English tells me they’ll need to take some X-rays once they get to the hospital as they place an IV in my arm. He says it’s a painkiller, he thinks I probably broke some ribs. His words start to blend together as it takes effect and we ride the bumpy road to the hospital. I’m not sure how long it is before I can understand what’s happening. Those drugs were strong. I look to my right and see Spencer sitting next to me sleeping. I try to reach over and touch him, forgetting that I can’t do that right now. My right forearm is wrapped in clean white bandages, my left arm is in a sling. My entire body feels extremely heavy, probably a side effect of the painkillers. I try to call out to Spencer but my voice is quiet and weak. He hears me anyways. “You’re awake!” He says excitedly. “You broke a couple ribs, they had to put a rod in to hold them in place.” “Guess that means no more beach vacation, huh?” “Unfortunately not. They did a full CT scan on you while you were out. Your only other injuries were a dislocated left shoulder and the cut on your right arm.” “That’s good, I guess.” I squeak out. “Can you get me some water?” “I’ll be right back, honey.” He touches my right hand and leaves to get water. He’ll have to take care of me for a while longer now it seems. “Here’s the water you ordered,” he says as he bursts back into the room. “We’ll be flying back home tomorrow morning and I’ve already contacted a lawyer about what happened, she says we have a solid case.” “You’re already thinking about that?” I ask. “Of course. You got hurt because of their shitty stairs. It cost a lot of money to get us here.” I don’t respond to him, I’m too tired to. I rest my head back into the pillow after I finish sipping on the water he brought me and fall asleep.

1. It all started with a routine school scoliosis exam. As we were all lined up, awaiting our turns, most of the kids including me, commented that this was stupid, and a complete waste of time. When it was my turn to go in, the nurse asked me to bend down and touch my toes, which I was lucky enough to be able to do, even though my budding breast hung down in the way of touching my chest to my legs. The nurse looked at my back and ran her fingers over my spine. She then lifted my shirt up, and looked and felt my back again. After that, she said that I could stand up again, and asked my name. After that, I was free to go, not thinking anything about what just happened. A few days later, my mom called me at home after I got out of school, to tell me that she was going to be home in 20 minutes, and that I had a doctors appointment in an hour. I asked what was going on, but she didn’t tell me, and just said that we would talk later. When mom got home, I went and got in the car with her

“Go and lay down in the usual spot, I’ll take care of you in a moment.” I swivel my eyes to the very extreme of my field of view, and give a low huff of assent. I am going to take her word for it, not that I can tell on my own. I glide over to the ordained place in my usual graceless fashion, and get myself in position to receive the most important hygienic ministration that dictates my daily life. Words like that, or words to their effect have defined my life for far longer than they did not. The words themselves in this specific context are of referring to the changing of my diaper. Yes diaper. I much prefer that word to nappy. It feels less infantile. I remember why I was put back in diapers, I was 7 years old. I had been having accidents, they had started out small, but had progressed to the point where both the doctor, and my mother agreed. If you are soiling your clothes on the regular, chances are diapers are in your future. I needed diapers. No cutesy Tinkerbell pullups for