When I was 15 I was in a horrific accident. I almost didn't survive, I had burns on my back and stomach and the back of my head. I also had all four limbs amputated. They couldn't save any part of my limbs. My legs were totally crushed from the hips down and part of my pelvis was injured. My arms were burned quite badly and despite heroic efforts the doctors could save nothing. I am a torso and head. This is ironic since the week before the accident I won not one but two beauty pageants and had intended to have a career as a runway model. I know what you are thinking, all teenage girls think they are going to have a career as a runway model. But I was five feet and nine inches tall and slender almost to the point where people might think I looked sickly though my doctor told me I was fine at my weight so I didn't think much about it. My breasts were small, A cup, which was the only thing I was self conscious about but I was assured that would be a plus in the modeling world. I had to pad my bra for the beauty pageants. The fact is I had already done a couple of modeling gigs for local ads and had earned $800 doing it. So I had a pretty realistic expectation of going in that direction, until that is, the accident.

When all your life people point out your looks as your chief asset (had mediocre grades in school) you figure you are going to get by on your looks. My life plan was graduate from high school, get with an agency and work as a runway model for about 5 years and make enough money to retire on. Then find a nice hot man with muscles, a bid dick and handsome face and live happily ever after.

Then the accident happened.

I was in the hospital for six month during which time every few weeks the doctors wanted to cut off another part of me. I just cried and cried and begged the doctors to just cut off my head next and get it over with. Of course they never did. I was depressed and suicidal. I just wanted my life to be over. There wasn't anything left for me. When I looked down at myself all I saw was a corpse with blood pumping through its veins. I refused to even look at a mirror the whole time I was in the hospital. The fact was my face was only injured by a slight cut on my cheek which healed up fairly well. I didn't know that of course, I just assumed that my face was as messed up as the rest of me. I had wires and tubes in and out of me including in my stomach and lungs since I was on a feeding tube and breathing tube for a while at the beginning. My face had only undergone first degree burns so I was lucky at least in that regard. My back got third degree burns on half of it and third degree burns on about a third of my belly. My arms were all burnt up and I still can't get that smell out of my nose. I think I had about 40 or so operations in those six months and a lot of that was quite painful. I lost track of all the times I begged them to kill me.

I had a boyfriend. It was pretty casual. We never got past first base. Not that I didn't want to. We had not had enough time alone to have sufficient privacy to go past first base. We were both 15. Brian was not involved in the accident. He visited me once. He was there for about 5 seconds and then fled my room. I heard him vomiting in the hallway on his way out. Having a boy react to your appearance by vomiting does little for your self esteem.

So at this point I guess you must be thinking this is just one sad story and I have nothing good to say.

I am glad you stuck to reading this far. It gets better.

About two weeks before my anticipated release from the Shriners hospital a new orderly was assigned to my floor. His name is Peter. As an orderly Peter's interactions with patients were somewhat limited. That is, he mostly would transport patients wheeling them around and run errands for the CNAs and nurses. Peter came into my room all cheerful and the first words out of his mouth to me were "Hello Beautiful, your limo awaits." Had he not included the word "beautiful" in his introduction I would have just chalked it up to typical hospital hospitality. After all they are paid to be nice. But that was the first time anyone said anything positive about my appearance since the accident. I'm not counting my Mom. My Dad and Mom divorced when I was little and I have not seen him since. Mom would call a turd beautiful if she gave birth to it. So I was a bit taken aback by Peter's comment. Then after a few minutes I figured he was just being nice. Peter dropped by my room a couple of times that first day to see how things were going then in the evening he was assigned to feed me. When you don't have arms and not even stumps to attach a prosthetic device to, you have to be fed by someone else. Peter raised the bed up till I was sitting up almost straight. Then he began feeding me. He was incredibly tender. He was also incredibly respectful. Some of the other orderlies and CNAs who fed me were patronizing or spoke to me like I was five years old. Peter distracted me from my situation by engaging me in conversation which eventually worked its way to dating and boys. I related how my boyfriend acted and then got depressed and told him that now I would never have a boyfriend. He asked why and I said "look at me, who would want an ugly torso and a head for a girlfriend"

Then he made me cry.

"Ugly?? There is nothing ugly about you, you are absolutely the prettiest girl I have ever seen."

Yep that did it. I burst out in tears and a whole flood of emotions. He leaned in and hugged me and caressed my shoulders. Then he wiped away my tears tenderly and gathered my hair in his hands.

"Lets see, first you have the most beautiful blond hair I have ever seen on any girl. Your hair is so beautiful that you could do shampoo commercials. Next you have a stunning face. Make up companies would pay a fortune to have your face in their ads." Then he told me limbs were over rated which made me laugh a little. Finally he said "your torso is very sexy, your breasts are the perfect size and while I have not seen it I am sure your ass is quite sexy." Then he said that most guys don't even notice if a girl has arms or legs until at least the third date.

Peter became my own personal cheering section. He made a point to visit me every day even when he wasn't assigned to my floor and after the first week he even came by on his day off which surprised me. Peter was 25. That means we couldn't date. Besides I figured he had a girlfriend. When he found out I was going home he bought me a bouquet of roses and a bundle of balloons and my favorite chocolates and a card that he wrote a sweet poem in. I still didn't dare to think he might have feelings for me.

Just because I was going home did not mean that I was totally recovered. I still had more surgery to look forward to. I had to take several medications and since I didn't even have stumps I would need to be taken care of. My Mom doesn't make much money working for a department store. She barely could afford the insurance. We were still trying to get a settlement for the accident and our attorney said it might take a couple more years for that to happen. Since I needed home health care assistance and since the insurance was paying for it we were offered two choices. The insurance said we could go with an agency and they would pay for part and we would have to pay for part which my mom couldn't pay for since she barely made enough to support us. The other choice is if we could find someone to do the job for the portion that the insurance would normally cover then we would have no out of pocket. Mostly they were quite expensive. We had an advertisement in several newspapers and on the internet seeking a home health aid. We started out looking for a CNA that must be female (she would be taking me to the toilet, wiping me, bathing me etc.) and we were disappointed that nobody applied at first. So we trimmed down the requirements a bit and finally we got an application. My mom made an appointment for the next day to interview the candidate.

I was in bed watching TV when Mom brought the aid she hired in to introduce him to me. It was Peter.

Mom had filled him in on his duties. But he already knew what they would be. I was mortified. Mom had just hired my crush to take care of my most intimate needs. I don't think there could be a greater level of humiliation. I was happy to see Peter, don't get me wrong, I just didn't want him to see me at my worst. The gig was going to be Tuesday through Saturday since those were the nights my Mom worked. What I didn't know was that Peter took a 30% pay cut to take the job.

he showed up the following Tuesday just before my mom went to work. "Time for your bath beautiful!" He wanted to start in already?? I was on the verge of tears. But he was so gentle and so tender. He went to my bathroom and started a bath. Then he came in with my bathrobe and pulled off my nightie ( I wore a nightie most of the time) and put on my robe and instead of putting me in the wheelchair like they did in the hospital and like my mom did Peter just picked me up and carried me to the bathroom. He pulled off my nightie and then set me down in the tub filled with tingly warm water. Holding me carefully he tenderly washed me everywhere. Not that there was much of me left to wash but what there was he washed with extreme tenderness. When my mother washed me it was a combination of painful and embarrassing. I had been bathed by others for six months and it was still humiliation when it happened. But Peter repeatedly told me I was beautiful and that it was a privilege to bath me. When the only thing left to bathe was my breasts, pussy and ass he asked me for permission to wash "your beautiful breasts." embarrassed I said "yes."

Then he followed that with "may I wash your sexy ass??" and I said yes to that as well. Finally he said "may I clean your glorious c**t??" I was a little shocked to hear him call it that, after all a home health aid is supposed to be completely professional but he called it glorious so I forgave him for calling it a c**t. But then instead of washing it he picked me up out of the bathtub and wrapped me in a towel and carried me to my bed. Then he unwrapped me. When you have no arms and no legs at all you are completely at the mercy of others. he laid me out on my bed naked and leaned down and kissed me on my mound. Then he looked up into my eyes and asked "may I lick your glorious c**t clean??" I couldn't get the words out straight I was stuttering with nervousness but he correctly interpreted my babbling as a "yes" and proceeded to give me my first pussy licking ever.

About forty five minutes later I had my first orgasm ever. After he apologized for taking advantage of a helpless girl. I reminded him that I did say yes. He corrected me and said I actually just babbled incoherently. We both giggled. For the first time in six months I felt sexy. He asked if he could kiss me then proceeded to do so without waiting for my answer. While he did make me feel sexy there was a gnawing feeling that He was being nice to me because he felt sorry for me. But after a few weeks of constantly telling me how lucky he was that he got to eat out the most beautiful girl in the world every day. Normally I wouldn't even have considered dating a guy his age, he was 25. But he was quite attractive and I had completely fallen in love with him in a short time. Then after a while he told me that he had taken a 30% pay cut just so he could work with me and he said that if my mom would give him permission to date me he would go back to working at the hospital then come and take care of me for free on his time off.

I proposed this option to my Mom. Our insurance would only take care of paying him for six months. After that we would be on our own and we were somewhat distraught about what we would do when that point came since it would still be over a year before we got the settlement and even then we didn't know what we would get.

My mom shocked me when she agreed to let Peter date me even before I got to the point where he would work for us for free just to be around me. She was elated when that part of the deal came out. She hugged me and told me she was so happy that I found someone who loved me despite my condition. I was way happier than she was. She didn't even bother asking how old Peter was but she did warn me not to tell anyone until I turned 17 lest Peter get in trouble. So the three of us kept our relationship a secret. Mom let Peter move in a month later. She has never asked what Peter and I do in my bedroom. She never questions that Peter takes hours to bath me. She never questions that he takes an hour every time I need to go to the bathroom. She refers to him as a saint. I refer to him as the love of my life and he calls himself a pervert who likes helpless little girls with no limbs to fight him off. As if I would ever want to.

So now I am in college. Peter and I live in a special accessable dorm together. He is finishing his own degree and I am working on mine. he wants to be an engineer specializing in designing equipment to help people like me. His first project was modifying a wheelchair for me that keeps me comfortable and sitting erect. He hooked up a lap top for me with voice imput that only responds to my voice. I don't know how he did that. I say go forward and the wheelchair goes forward. If anyone else says "go forward" my chair responds by saying "fuck you!" We got to work on that a bit. He also invented some special furniture that helps with love making. It is sort of a sling thing that he straps me into and he just grabs my pigtails and fucks the living shit out of my mouth which is awesome because I can't actually give a normal blow job. He flips me around and can fuck me and I don't have to actually do any work. he had another one suspended over our bed that I sit in and he just presses a button and it bounces me up and down on his cock which is convenient for both of us. He actually set it to run for hours one night and we just both let the machine do all the work and I think we had 7 orgasms between us. Peter is such a genius. His ultimate goal is to modify a car that I can drive but that may be a bit ambitious. If anyone can do it though, Peter can.