Date: Wed, 20 Sep 2023 18:50:28 -0500
From: Krisje Mastres <krisjemastres@gmail.com>
Subject: A Gentle Touch for my Patient

A Gentle Touch for my First Patient
By Krisje
High School/Interracial/BBC

[This story is a work of fiction and contains details of an inappropriate
nurse/patient relationship including sexually explicit scenes involving a
minor. This did not happen. Do not do this in real life if you are in a
position of power over a vulnerable person.]

I was 18 and newly homeless when I saw the ad posted up in the
laundromat. "CNA Needed." I had studied and obtained my Nursing Assistant
Certification (CNA) through a program at my high school before I'd
graduated and breathed a sigh of relief knowing there was something else in
the neighborhood I could apply for. I'd always wanted to be a doctor, and a
nurse had seemed like the next best thing.

I pulled down the ad while I waited for my clothes to dry and skimmed the
fine print. "Car accident victim. Live in. 24/7 care. Male preferred." What
kind of state did this person have to be in to need 24/7 care, and why
weren't they still at the hospital if so? There were no pictures, no
descriptions of the victim's injuries, nothing specific about what kind of
care they needed. I expected a very old person who might need all sorts of
therapies to recover. This might outside my paygrade, I thought. I was
trained in day-to-day care like feeding patients, not in providing actual
medical treatments. The rest, however, seemed too good to be true. A live
in job would kill two birds with one stone while I repaired things with my
own family.

I made a call to the number listed on the ad, and a woman answered. Ten
minutes later, I was asked to go to her home for an interview. I wasted no
time in showering and prettying myself up at the gym and putting on my
nicest scrubs so I wouldn't look homeless. I had light blonde hair that I
spiked up and was extremely thin due to my poor food situation. I parked my
beater car a block away from the address and nervously approached, carrying
my ID documents and background check.

After I rang the doorbell, a plump light-skinned black woman in a suit
answered. She had a professional demenor and wore dark glasses and large
earrings. I'd quickly gathered she was an attorney who worked long hours,
she had two teenage boys, and the patient she wanted care for was a sick
family member who lived with her.

Without even introducing the patient or giving me any additional
information, she immediately went into all the dirty interview questions
and pored over each of my identification and background check
documents. She made it clear she was not pleased I hadn't completed an
assignment before, but seemed to think hers would be an easy one despite
the critical condition requiring 24/7 care her ad seemed to imply. Thus,
she was looking for a reason why she should give me a chance. I assumed at
that point that she simply had no idea what she was doing. The situation
was a total wild card for how much I could be getting into, but in my
desperate position, I kept asserting that I'd passed all my exams and would
help her loved one to the rest of my ability.

Finally, she seemed to give in and said in her deep Southern accent, "I'll
let you meet the patient and see what his opinion is on the matter." She
confiscated all my documents and led me into another room on the first
floor.

"The patient is my son," she said as she walked, her high heels clacking on
the hardwood floor. "He's 15 and was in a bad car accident with his
friends. There's all kinds of freaks in the world. I didn't want to talk
about his vulnerable condition on my ad."

"I...I understand." She had to have done the mental calculation of my age
from my documents. I hoped this wasn't about to be someone I knew. Both due
to the fact he was just in a car accident and the awkward situation of
being his nurse.

Fortunately, it wasn't. The boy was in a makeshift bed in front of the
TV. He had on a Bulls jersey and was covered by a sheet and woolen Patriots
blanket from the waist down. Both of his arms were in casts from the elbow
down, leaving small holes for useless fingers, and he had two black eyes
and bandages around his face. He had darker skin than his mother, a baby
face with a small round nose, and close-cropped kinky hair. Given his small
frame and lack of muscles, I assumed he wasn't much of an athlete himself.

The bed didn't look very comfortable for lying in all day. It was flat with
some piled up pillows. And once again, I noted that this did not seem to be
a critical 24/7 care case. He had no IVs or medical devices. He was already
bandaged up and probably just needed someone to help him eat and go to the
bathroom. Was all this just because his mom and brother didn't want to do
it? I felt a bit bad for him in that moment. But I could just be assuming
things.

The boy had been glued to the TV since I had entered, taking only a short
moment to glance up at me.

"Calvin," said the woman. "I'm interviewing another applicant."

"Go with him," the boy said.

"I want you to meet him and ask..."

"Just hire him!"

"Boy, I need you to start taking this more seriously," she said, raising
her voice.

"Ma, I said to get a guy nurse, and you keep calling different chicks
over." He grimaced as though his pain and squirmed around, still not
looking up at us.

"You need someone trustworthy and caring to look after you," said the
woman. I cringed at the lowkey sex discrimination. And she's an attorney
too who should know she could be sued for that. A man can't be trustworthy
and caring, huh? Maybe not the best employer for one. Not that I was in a
position to walk away easily.

"Maaaa...." the boy said in a perpetual groan. "I ain't having no chick
wipe my ass. That's weird, okay? Hire himm... Pleeeaaaasse, maaa..."

For all the long discussion, that was all it took for her to make a
decision. In a weird turn of events, I had gone from homeless to having a
job and shelter in a single day. Her only reason for me being there 24/7
seemed to be to help him around the clock just to eat and use the bathroom
when he asked, which seemed like a very weird proposition. Once again, I
wondered why she couldn't help her own son whose diapers she'd changed as a
baby. But then she let slip that she worked 60 hours a week and didn't
always come home. She had a second house she lived in and had her boys move
from house to house with her, but thought it was too much of a bother to
drag her injured 15 year old around. So I was a nanny as well. Not that he
was going anywhere in his condition. It also wouldn't actually be 24/7, as
I would have Sundays off until 5:00pm because he visited his dad then, and
they would want privacy. Why wasn't his dad doing this? I was genuinely
curious, but didn't want to look a gift horse in its mouth.

She gave me a bedroom furnished with just a bed and treadmill that was
right next to the living room where her son was staying. I'd be able to
hear him from there if he just yelled for me. His accident had only been
five days previous, and while he was out of the hospital, he was on
painkiller meds that kept him drowsy and sedated. I'd have to keep an eye
on him even if he didn't call.

Calvin's mother made a hot and spicy tortilla soup that he liked before she
left and then gave him a kiss and walked out the door without feeding him
herself.

Feeling overjoyed about landing this job, I poured a bowl for him and for
myself and brought them to the living room. When I got back, I nearly
dropped them both in surprise. in obvious pain, Calvin was sitting up on
the edge of the bed and trying to stand up on his own.

"Hey," I said, rushing over, putting the food safely on the coffee
table. "Let me help you."

"I'm so sick of this..." he groaned. His eyes had filled with tears. "It
hurts... I'm so bored... She just left without me. She hates me."

"She doesn't. She hired me to make sure you stay healthy."

"She does... It's such a bother to her... Everything hurts..." he cried. He
stood to his feet. he was wearing a pair of basketball shorts that matched
his jersey and no socks. I saw a big bandage protruding from the leg hole
of his left thigh. He seemed to have a little trouble balancing and walked
with a limp. I let him lean on me, not knowing where he was going. Turned
out it was back to the kitchen where there was a drink on the counter with
a huge bendy straw in it. He knelt down and chugged it, then came up for
air and chugged the rest of it.

"You could have just asked," I said. "I'm here to help."

His speech was even more slurred, and he seemed to pout like a child. "I
wanna do it myself... I've had to fucking pee all day... Gonna piss my
pants..."

"Why didn't you say so?"

"Fuckin mom... don't waa... don't want ma to see that..."

"Dude, she changed your diapers."

"No, she's... fucking god..." He grimaced.

"Calvin," I said, gently grabbing both of his shoulders. "Some things you
need are going to be very awkward, but I'm getting paid to help with you
them. You don't need to be embarrassed or worry about what I think."

"I know. I know. It's nerve...wracking...nervewracking I guess."

I led him slowly to the bathroom as he limped. When we got there, he closed
his eyes and lifted up his casted arms a bit expectantly.

"How do you want to do this?" I asked.

"I gonna go bathroom..." I could tell he was very nervous at having someone
see him down there by his shaking and body language, but it was a need he
could no longer say no to. Holding it all day can't be healthy.

I grabbed his waistband on both sides and pulled his shorts and underwear
to the ground. He stepped out of them and immedately sat on the toilet,
letting out an audible sigh of relief as he urinated. His stream seemed to
go on and on forever while he continued sighing. Finally, he took a deep
breath and said, "I'm done."

He flushed on his own with his foot and didn't need his ass wiped. When he
stood up, I caught an eyeful of something I wasn't expecting. He had the
cock of a porn star and at 15. It had to be at least 9 inches and thick,
all while soft, easily twice the size of my own member at 18. He was
uncircumsized with a foreskin that didn't go all the way to the tip. How
did he contain such a monster with his smallish frame? I kept a poker face
and didn't show that I was looking at it. He was my patient after all.

"Need to wash your hands?" I asked, absentmindedly.

"Yes!" he said loudly. "Wash em!" He thrusts the casts forward and then
whimpered in pain. "Fuck...."

I swallowed hard and supported him with my body. "That was a bad joke, I
apologize."

"I overextended," he slurred.

"Let's your shorts on, and we'll get you back to bed."

I pulled his shorts and boxers back up, awkwardly brushing them against his
huge cock on the way. I felt it twitch and jump at the contact but kept
going, and then pulled his jersey down.

We walked back to the living room, and he sat on the couch instead of the
bed and asked that I feed him, which I did. The soup was almost intolerably
spicy for me, and I had to take a long drink after every spoonful. But
Calvin devoured it, only taking occasional sips from the cup with the long
curly straw that I had refilled for him. The TV was on the local news,
which he watched with his eyes glazed over. This arrangement was going to
get boring fast for the both of us.



****



After it got dark, he fell asleep twice against the couch before I
convinced him to go back to bed. I once again helped him to the bathroom,
where he peed, less awkwardly this time, and brushed his teeth. The spicy
soup had done a work on my digestive tract, and I wasn't feeling well, but
it didn't seem to have any effect on him.

I tucked him into bed under his sheet and Patriots blanket.

"Ben," he said, after I went to turn off the lights and leave him. "Will
you sleep with me?"

"No," I said.

"I meant on the couch or something. I don't want to be alone..."

I considered it while I did my business and got ready for bed, and then by
the time I ended up back on the couch covered up, he was softly crying and
moaning in pain.

"Hey," I said, getting up and walking to the side of the bed. "You're gonna
heal up. I'm here for you. Everything's gonna be fine."

He just kept crying. I couldn't tell through the moon light if he was
gesturing at me. He was still a little boy in some ways beyond his baby
face. And he was sleeping alone with a stranger with his arms unusable and
his own mother had gone away. I stood there with him trying to comfort him
as much as I could. And then he made the first strange request.

"Hey Ben," he said. "Would you be offended if I wore less to bed?"

"No, why would I?"

"I dunno. I don't feel comfortable. I can't sleep. I normally just wear
boxers."

He lifted his casts up with a wince of pain, and I took off his jersey. My
eyes were a little adjusted to the light, but I could see he was thin
without much muscle.

His blanket was off, and he laid on his back with his legs bent, looking up
at me. I put my fingers under his waistband, and he briefly stopped me.

"Take it all off," he said. "Please."

"Uhhh..."

"I wanna be able to go to the bathroom without help." That seemed
reasonable. But there was still the risk of him falling while walking
around without support. However, I complied and pulled off his pants and
underwear. He audibly sighed in relief. His massive donger seemed to exist
in a weird hammerspace where it didn't show from outside his clothes, but
once free looked like there could be no containing it. I wondered how
cramped it felt for him, or how light-headed he got when it hardened.

"Thank you," he said after I'd thrown his clothes on the floor. I pulled
the sheet and blanket over him and tucked him in. "That's much better. I
can breathe now." Weirdly, it seemed that his slurring speech and perpetual
whines and groans had gone away right as he was about to sleep. Maybe those
issues were caused by stress. "Can I get a kiss before bed?"

"No," I said. "I'm your nurse, not your mom."

"No homo," he said. "Cheek or forehead, not lips."

"Still weird."

"Come on... Just one...," he whined. "Please..."

I gave him a quick peck on his unbandaged cheek. It smelled like the spicy
soup up close. He made a soft cooing noise as I made contact.

"Thanks," he said. He was tearing up. "Good night, Ben."

"Good night, Calvin. Just yell really loud if you need something. I'm a
light sleeper. I'll come running."

"Deal. Thank you so much."

I hoped he would be all right.

****