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 No.11137

So I posted a request on 4chan, asking for requests for erotic writing prompts and places to post said writing. I got "a quadruple amputee being fucked," posted on gurochan. so here I am to post it. Hope I made it to your liking, whomever requested it.

---

Quadriplegic

My life used to be such a dream. I was truly blessed. At least, I thought it was. Maybe things had only seemed to be wonderful so that it would hurt all the more when the universe took it away. I was pretty, I was popular, I had a wonderful boyfriend. I was a cheerleader, and he was... well, he was in the marching band, actually, but he was seriously hot. I was going to marry him as soon as we graduated high school and we were both 18 and going to college together... He hadn't proposed yet, but I had a little promise ring on my finger that meant we would be together forever.

That all changed the night of junior prom. He came to pick me up in his car, an old Volvo he'd got from his dad. Nothing fancy, sure, but I didn't care. My parents took pictures of us before we left, Tommy with his short dark hair swept back with gel, looking handsome in his rented tux. I had my long blonde hair done in curls, and had a beautiful robins egg blue strapless gown on. It was a little risky going strapless, for sure, but it fit tight enough around my breasts that I didn't think I'd pop out.

It had promised to be a wonderful night. A magical night. We were going to dance, we were going to party, and, thought Tommy didn't know it, but we were going to lose our virginity. That was the plan, at least. I was going to whisper something to him, maybe on the dance floor, maybe on the way home. Something sexy, and naughty. Something that would make his blood boil, and... I never did figure out what I was going to say.

On the way to prom, a big rig ran a red light. I just remember listening to the radio, then... it all happened so fast. There was a loud crash, and pain, and then nothing. I woke up in the hospital, my body hurt all over, my arms and legs felt like they were on fire, but I couldn't move them. I screamed for help, and a nurse arrived, then a doctor, then the sedative, and I was out.

When I woke up again, I learned what had happened. Slowly, not all at once, they broke the news. I'd been in a coma for a month. The truck driver had had an aneurysm, died before he ever hit our car. Tommy had died on impact. Me... the crash took off both my legs instantly, broke my arm, cut me up pretty bad. They'd amputated my left arm in the hospital that night. It had been too badly damaged. My right arm... it had gotten pretty banged up, but they thought they could save it, until they found an infection spreading, that was t responding to antibiotics. Some time while I was still in the coma they'd had to cut that arm too.

I was a quadriplegic. I was never going to walk, to do a flip, a cartwheel, the splits... I was never going to feed myself, or write my name. I was never going to see Tommy again. I didn't even get to attend his funeral. My friends had written me 'get well soon' cards, for all the good that did. My hospital room was full of old flowers and deflated balloons.

My family didn't have much money, but there was some money to be had from the government now that I was a cripple. Not really enough, though. A care worker came every 3 days to check on me, give me a sponge bath, be sure I was doing well. As if I could be doing well. How was I supposed to live like this? I couldn't even get out of bed without flopping onto the floor like a dead fish!

My parents tired to help, but they had to work. Hospital bills were piling up, and the trucking company was fighting in court to say it hadn't been their fault. Meanwhile, I had a wheelchair I could maneuver with my teeth (if someone put me in it first) with a crappy robotic arm that I could just barely feed myself with, if the food didn't require utensils.

It should have been a godsend when my brother came home from the army. He had received a Purple Heart, and walked with a limp now. Took a piece of shrapnel to the leg. He was still more mobile than me, though, and was receiving some veteran's benefits. He moved back home so he could take care of me, at least that was the idea.

He wasn't the same as he had been before. He'd always been a big guy, strong as an ox, on the football team before he graduated and went to basic training. He hadn't taken any shit from anyone, but he'd always been able to have fun. Since he'd come back, though, he'd been short tempered. He was always angry about something. I'd hear him in his room, playing video games, then shouting at the TV, throwing the controller. Sometimes he'd hit the wall or something, skip meals...

It was pretty clear he didn't want to take care of me, either. "Brad?" I shouted for my room. "Are you here Brad?"

"What?" He shouted back.

"I have to go to the bathroom!" It was morning and I was laying in bed. I'd just woken up, and needed to pee. I was covered in sweat, too. The doctors said that since I'd lost so much of my body, it was having trouble regulating temperature now, and I couldn't kick the blankets off me in my sleep, either.

Brad limped into the room. "Fine." He grunted, and pulled the balnlets off me. "You stink."

"Thanks, asshole." I quipped back as he lifted me up. "Ow! Careful." The stubs where my arms and legs had been still hurt, especially when they were touched. Most mornings I could still feel them, my missing limbs, like they were still there and still burning in the gasoline fire that had taken away my dreams.

"Don't whine." He carried me down the hall to the bathroom and set me down on the toilet seat, pulling my shorts off with a quick yank.

"Hey!" I had had to learn a lot of lessons in humility since the accident. The hospital staff had at least been nice about it, Brad... he just didn't care. He didn't even bother looking away, his eyes lingering a little too long.

He tossed the shorts on the floor. "Just let me know when you're done." He left the bathroom, leaving the door open as he did, leaving me to balance myself on my pelvis, holding on with my chin to a handle my dad had installed for me. I felt like shit. I always felt like shit when I had to go through so much just to do the simplest things.

I finished, and called to Brad. He came in and took me off the toilet, then the most humiliating part... Brad took some toilet paper and wiped my ass for me. I've never had to wipe another persons ass before, so I don't know how hard it is to do, but Brad was... rough. It felt like he pushed too hard against my asshole. I asked him to be more gentle, he just said if I didn't like it I could do it myself.

He took me back to my bed to leave me there. That was it. There I waited until he came back in to feed me or take me to the bathroom again or whatever. This was my life now. The most I could manage was picking what to watch on Netflix using my nose on the touchscreen of my phone.

I heard Brad's phone ring, and he answered. He mumbled a little in his room, then shouted, then mumbled. A minute later he walked in, his grimace more ridgid than usual. "That was Mom. Your care taker woman isn't coming in today, car trouble or some shit, I don't know."

"What?" I squirmed in bed, still trying to use the arms I didn't have to turn myself to look at him. "But, I... I havnt had a bath in days."

"I can tell." He rolled his eyes. "Guess that's my job today."

"What? Come on Brad, you can't... you don't mean..." he walked over and picked me up, taking me back to the bathroom.

"Don't be such a baby about it, not like I want to do it either."

He'd seen me more than a little exposed since the accident. That was unavoidable, sure, but a bath? That was a bit more... intimate. "You really don't have to." I said, as he set me down on the bathroom floor. "Maybe Mom, when she gets home-"

"Mom doesn't want to do it either. Let's just get this done with." He turned on the bath water, checking the tempratire, and began to fill up the tub. "You don't want to just stink for another three days do you?"

He was right... I did need to be clean. It was just so embarrassing. "Okay, fine."

When the tub was filled he unbuttoned my shirt and pulled my shorts off again. I was blushing pretty hard as he lifted me into his arms and set me down in the water. He'd never seen my breasts before, I don't think. His brief glances while he helped me on the toilet were one thing, this was just me laying there exposed.

The water was a little too hot, but I didn't complain. All he'd do is complain back at me. He started by shampooing my hair. It wasn't as long as it used to be. The hospital had cut my hair, I guess, and it was only shoulder length now. I leaned my head back into the water so he could rinse my hair, one of the few movements I could still manage, and he got the sponge.

He soaped it up and started scrubbing my shoulders, my neck, my chest. I felt my heart skip a beat as he casually rubbbed the sponge over my breasts, then down my stomach. Once upon a time only tommy had ever touched me there, now I'd lost count of how many doctors and nurses, and now my brother... at least he'd used the sponge.

As if wanting to destroy my lest shred of dignity, he then cupped his hand in the water and splashed some over my chest, using his bare hand to wipe away the soap.

"Hey!"

"What?" He snapped.

"What are you doing?"

He rolled his eyes, splashing more water over me and again rubbing his fingers over my body as he did. "It's a bath, dumbass, what did you expect?"

"Well, you don't have to use your hands like that."

He just rolled his eyes and splashed more water over me. What was wrong with him? Wasn't it bad enough without him groping me out of spite? "You are such a baby. You want me to clean you but you don't want me to touch you. You want me to wipe your ass but you don't want me to look." He laughed bitterly. "I got friends who had their arms and legs blown off by an IED put there to kill them and they don't complain as much as you do." He got the sponge again, and went to clean between my legs, at least where my legs would have been. I didn't even have thighs to close anymore, and he scrubbed the soapy sponge up and down my crotch.

I looked away from him. He was being so rough with the sponge, pressing hard against me as he rubbed it against my lips. "Careful." I snapped. "Not so hard, my pussy isn't a fucking cooking pot, you can't scrub it like that."

He rolled his eyes again. "Too rough, too much touching. Jesus, Amanda. Man up a little."

"I'm not a fucking man, damnit!" I shouted at him. "I didn't go to war and agree to get blown up like your friends did, I was going to fucking prom."

"Agreed to get blown up? You think we agreed to get... blown up?" His voice had lost its edge of sarcastic anger, and had turned serious and cold. "Is that what you think?"

"I didn't mean it like that." I said quietly. "I just-"

"Just what?" He dropped the sponge into the water.

"I just want you to be more gentle." I said, almost a whisper now. He was starting to frighten me.

"More gentle? You want me to be more gentle? Fine. I'll treat you like a little princess." He reached over me and picked up my shaving cream and razor. They'd sat untouched since prom night, since I didn't have legs to shave anymore...

"What are you-" He sprayed some shaving cream into his hand, and then wiped it over my crotch. "Hey!" I tried to squirm away, water splashing over my crotch in the process.

"Knock it off, princess." He said, and unplugged the drain. The water drained out as he put more shaving cream on his hand and wiped it onto my crotch again. "Now hold still if you don't want to get cut." He took out my razor.

I froze, not wanting to get cut, afraid to move, unable to avoid it. He put the blade of the safety razor to my skin and drew it down slowly, then wiped it off and did it again, then again. His fingers moved around my lips, my hood, holding my skin flat as he shaved off more and more hair, touching me in places he should never have touched.

"There." He turned on the bathtub faucet and rinsed the blade off a final time.

I finally moved, bending down to look. He'd shaved all my pubic hair. I was completely bald down there... I'd never shaved it all off before. The most I'd ever shaved off was when I did a cute little landing strip, for Tommy, for prom... "Brad..."

"Not clean enough?" He sneered. The faucet still running, he pushed me from one end of the bath down to the other, putting my crotch in the stream of running water.

"Brad!" The water was flowing warm and hard over my skin, a thrumming pressure against my clit. "Brad..." I gasped. The flow of water was... intense. Intense in a way I hadn't known I could feel.

He looked at me differently for a moment, curious, maybe confused, then he smiled. "You like that, don't you?" He asked.

I'd been taken so off gaurd by the water I didn't know what to say. It felt good, good in a way I'd felt when Tommy had his hands up my skirt, good in a way I shouldn't be feeling in the bathtub with my brother watching me. "Would you just stop it." I said sheepishly, trying not to look at him.

He turned the water off. "Sure thing, princess." He slid me back up to the other end of the tub.

I was angry, and confused, and embarrassed. I just wanted to run away, to go to my room, to be anything but helpless. I closed my eyes, fighting back tears, and then I felt something. It couldn't be... I opened my eyes and looked down to see Brad's hand on my crotch. "What are you-" his finger slipped between my lips. "Brad!"

"Don't worry about it." He said, smirking. I tried to squirm away, but it was no use, and I felt his finger push inside me.

"What are you..." I instinctively clenched my vaginal muscles, to no effect. His finger went deeper, sliding slowly into me as I tried to twist my torso away. "Brad!"

"I'll be gentle." He said. "God, you're so wet already."

"Stop it." I whispered, his finger all the way inside me now. "I'm not..." but I was. Whatever the faucet had done to me had made me wet, and not just from water. His finger felt firm and thick, as it curved and pressed against more sensative parts inside me. "Stop..." I breathed. Only Tommy had ever... what was he doing?

"Why?"

"Brad..." he was pushing his finger in and out, his knuckles bumping against my clit. "You can't do this... please."

"You're so wet." He reminded me as he moved his finger faster. "I don't think you want me to stop."

"Please, stop it." I wiggled away from him, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't get away from his hand, couldn't stop him. "What's gotten into you?"

"Me? What's gotten into you?" He pushed his finger hard into me with a laugh. "Come on little princess, isn't this what you wanted?"

"No..." he slid his finger out, and I thought for a moment he was done, until I felt him press again, with two fingers this time. "Ow, stop, you're going to... fuck, what are you doing?"

"God damn you're tight." He licked his lips, and I felt his thumb rubbing against my clit as my lips stretched around his fingers.

"Stop it, please." I breathed. Not even Tommy had used two fingers... It hurt, it turned me on, it made me confused and afraid. "It's going to break..."

"What?" His fingers stopped. "Oh my god, are you a fucking virgin?"

"Of course I am, you fucking jerk." I felt his fingers slide out of me. "Jesus, what's wrong with you?"

He licked his lips hungrily. "You're really a fucking virgin."

"What... yes. What's gotten into you." He grabbed my sides and lifted me up, or rather lifted my crotch up, turning me upside down. "Hey!" I felt his fingers pull my pussy open, slipping as he did, but managing to pull my lips apart, spreading me wide open. "Oh my god what are you doing?"

His hands left my crotch and wrapped around me. "Come on." He said, lifting me up, as he carried me, still dripping with bath water, to his room. He dropped me down on his bed, and I tried to scoot away from him. I didn't get very far, and he pulled me back anyway.

He undid his belt. My eyes went wide. "Brad, you can't do this." I squirmed again, rolling off his bed and landing hard on the floor. He closed his door, and took off his shirt. All I could do was watch as he stripped naked. His body was muscular and scarred, his eyes wild, his dick huge. "Brad..."

He lifted me back up again, sitting down on his bed while he held me like a sack of laundry or something, setting me down on his lap, his dick resting against my stomach. He gripped the back of my neck firmly with one hand, lifting me up with a grunt, while he pushed his dick against me with the other.

"Brad, don't!" I felt the tip of his cock rub hard against my clit, then slip easily between my lips, pressing firmly against my hole. "Please-" I gasped in pain as his cock tore through my hymen, plunging deep into me, stretching my hole open. "Oh my god." I whispered, staring at him in shocked horror. His eyes were closed, satisfaction on his face. It was like I wasn't even there. "I can't..." I could feel him inside me. "Can't believe you..." I wasn't a virgin. I'd just lost my virginity to my... to my...

He licked his lips, and rotated me, turning me around to face away from him with his cock still inside me. He wrapped his hands around me, holding me by my breasts as he started thrusting his hips up and down, pushing slowly in and out of me.

It couldn't be happening, I couldn't believe it, I refused to believe that he was doing this. I refused to believe that I was feeling it. That it felt so... wrong. So... no! I tried to fight him, tried to get away, his hands gripped my breasts tighter, though, and there was nothing I could do.

Then his hands moved down my sides and held onto me tight. He lifted me up, his strong, muscular, army trained arms lifting my whole body up his shaft to slam me back down again, and again. It was horrible, and it was amazing. The pain had turned into something else, something that still hurt but in a different way, a way that built inside me and threatened to explode. "Don't..." I whispered, as much to myself as to him now. "Please don't..." but it was too late. It was happening. My brother was fucking me, I couldn't stop him, couldn't stop myself... I bit my lip, desperate not to moan as I came, his thick cock slamming deeper into me as I trembled. I threw my head back and a squeak of orgasmic sound escaped my lips, then a gasp for breath as it continued.

"Yeah." He grunted. "You like that..." he stood up suddenly, turning around and throwing the both of us down to his bed. I felt his weight on top of me as he grunted again, pushing hard into me as he groaned and sighed, slowing down and finally stopping. "Fuck." He whispered, and I felt the girth of his penis slide out of me.

I lay there, silent, confused. What else could I do? My brother was gone. The man in his place wasn't the man that left this house to join the military. Or maybe he was. Maybe I'd never seen it before. Maybe this had been the real him all along, but one thing was clear, there was no point in asking what he'd done, why he'd done it... "why?" I said into the mattress, despite myself.

No answer came. He picked me up, took me back to the bathroom, put me in the tub and turned on the shower. He got in with me, cleaning himself first. I watched him lather and rinse himself with ease, with his two working arms and hands. He cleaned his hair, washed his face, like I wasn't even there.

When he was done, he bent down to wash me off too. He pushed his fingers back into my pussy, rinsing his cum out of me as best he could, a small trickle of blood still on my lips. "I..." I started to speak. I didn't know what to say. I wish you hadn't done that? I'm going to tell on you? I'm not on birth control? It all seemed so pointless. He looked at me, waited for me to go on, daring me to speak, and then went back to cleaning me when I didn't.

He dried me off, put on my clothes, and put me back in my bed. I stayed there for the rest of the day. Thinking. It was all I could do now, was think. Think about what had happened, honk about how helpless I was.

Mom and dad got home. Brad acted like nothing had happened. I acted like it too. I couldn't prove anything. What would I even say? That I got wet while he was giving me a sponge bath? That I came while he was fucking me? That their son, my brother, wasnt the man we all believed him to be this morning when you'd left for work? It was best to just stay quiet. What was the point? Even if he was a monster, I still needed him to wipe my ass.

That night, my mom helped me onto the toilet before bed. She took my shorts off, and did a double take. She tried to act like she hadn't, but it was clear she'd noticed. I hadn't had a shaved crotch yesterday, I did today.

I blushed, looking away from her. I could tell her now, tell her everything. "Brad helped me shave." I said quietly. "It's no big deal." I found I desperately feared she'd look closer, somehow see I'd lost my virginity, ask me what had happened. She didn't. She left me to do my business.

The next day, I woke up, my missing limbs in pain, my pussy still sore. I didn't want to call for Brad to help me, but eventually I had no choice. "Brad?"

There was no answer.

"Brad?" I said louder.

Nothing.

I rolled out of bed, and crawled like an inch worm down the hall. His door was open, he wasn't there, his rucksack was gone. I managed to work my way to the bathroom and wriggle out of my shorts to pee, then found my way to my phone to call my mom. I couldn't go a full day without someone there to help me. I couldn't even wipe my ass.

My mom left work and helped me. She couldn't believe my brother had done such an irresponsible thing like that. What had gotten into him? If she only knew. I almost told her then, I almost told her a lot of times over the next three days. There was no point after that, though.

They'd found Brad, his car parked outside a bar, dead, self inflicted gunshot to the head.

---

 No.11139

Yeah, this is an OP that delivers.

Seriously, this was fantastic! It had just the right balance of sadism to keep things fresh without going totally overboard with it. The setting up the idyllic life before taking it all away is my favorite trope in stories like this and you did a wonderful job at that, making the ending that much more tragic.

Good job, you got talent for amputee erotic fiction!

 No.13421

Can we get a continuation on this one? It's very well done.



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