The Diaper Problem

Hey all, it's Aloha, Author of High Quad Stories.  This isn't meant to be a long, multi-part story, but I did write a few more parts to this.  However, since it doesn't look like there are currently any days available, I don't know if I'm going to be able to post any more of this one, but I'll at least put this part up for now.  It's a little uncomfortable, so I'm not sure if many people will even enjoy it. I won't be offended if you don't, lol.

The Diaper Problem

It all started during dinner with the Rosenthals.

It was something that Cathy and I had been looking forward to for weeks.  We met Dave and Michelle Rosenthal at the orientation for Leo’s daycare, and we’d hit it off.  Okay, we sort of hit it off.  Dave and I chatted about the baseball game that weekend, and Michelle and Cathy talked about potty training or bras or whatever the hell women talk about.  When we left the orientation, Michelle said to us, “We’ll all have to get together for dinner sometime!”

I told Cathy that they didn’t really mean it.  Of course they didn’t. They didn’t actually want to be friends with us.  We’re not the kind of couple who has friends—not in any real sort of way.  I make people feel awkward, and the conversations are always stilted with big phony smiles, and patronizing nods.  And wondering when the soonest they could leave would be without it being outright rude.

Did You Walk Today?

“Did you walk today?”

It’s the first thing my father always says to me when he comes to visit me in my room in rehab.  He doesn’t even say hello.  He only wants to know one goddamn thing and it’s whether I walked. 

Three months ago, the question wouldn’t have bothered me as much.  That’s when I first broke my spine at the T4 level and was told that it was very unlikely I’d ever be able to walk again.  I didn’t believe it at the time.  I thought those doctors were full of shit. 

Trapped

This is a new story that I'm hoping will have 4-5 parts if people enjoy it...

TRAPPED

I’m 24, but I feel like I am five years old right now.

Actually, I feel like I am two. Maybe one and a half. Because even a five-year-old can get out of bed himself. He can brush his own teeth and go to the bathroom himself. I can’t do any of those things.  That’s where Maria comes into the picture.

Maria is in her 30s and a relatively recent immigrant from Mexico.  When I was a kid, I used to love my sweet Mexican nurses, who were so loving and nurturing. I don’t want loving and nurturing anymore. I want somebody who treats me like a fucking man.

A Christmas Miracle

This is a singleton story, in honor of the holidays.  Hope you enjoy it!

A Christmas Miracle

Taylor

One of the first things that attracted me to my husband over 10 years ago was his virility.  If he wasn't running a marathon, he was competing in a bike race or maybe climbing a mountain. Joel was always moving, running, exercising. He had this perfect, toned body without even having to specifically work out at a gym. He had the sexiest body of any man I have ever met.  That's part of why I fell in love with him.

Looking at Joel now, sitting next to me, his body strapped into a power wheelchair, his fingers curled and positioned in splints, his legs immobile, the word "virility" is the last thing that comes to mind. Another word much more quickly comes to mind, a word we've tried to avoid saying for the last year and a half since that damn truck hit Joel's bicycle:

Crippled.

Prisoner -- New story

This is a new story I've been working on.  If people enjoy it, I'll try to continue it...



Prisoner

I am currently incarcerated in two different prisons.

Hollywood Rehab

Nick is a Hollywood brat whose life is changed forever when he breaks his neck and becomes a C3/C4 quadriplegic.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16 

Chapter 17 

Chapter 18 

Chapter 19 

Chapter 20 

Chapter 21

Ethan

Story by Aloha

I guessed we were going about 70 miles an hour or more because I could feel my scalp bashing into the thin pillow behind my head with every bump in the road. I could feel my teeth vibrating in my skull, which sounds like a weird thing to say, but I’ve been noticing all sorts of crazy shit these days on the parts of my body that I can still feel. I may not be able to feel anything from my shoulders down, but the rest of me has a catlike sensitivity. I’m like a superhero from the shoulders up. Or that’s what I tell the ladies.

“Hey, tell the driver to slow down,” I said to the paramedic sitting next to the stretcher I was lying on. “Does he want to get in an accident and cripple me?”

“Shut the fuck up, Ethan,” John, the paramedic, said good-naturedly.

Loserville

Story by Aloha

Today was the worst fucking day of my life.

There’s some strong competition too. Like the day I graduated from high school and got busted for buying weed during the ceremony and actually got carted away by the cops during the principal’s speech to us. I didn’t end up going to jail or anything, but that night my dad packed up all my shit and threw it on our front lawn and said he was tired of my crap and he didn’t want to see me again. I tried to go to my best buddy Jay’s house to sleep, but his grandmother told me to fuck off, that I was a bad influence. So I ended up sleeping on the sidewalk.

So yeah, that was a really bad day. But today was worse.