“Just around the corner from your Bridge club … Well, this is quite convenient as we’re all stuck here in the Klinik and it seems former patients of ours did a little experiment with another girl or something and she seems to bleed profusely.” …

“You’ve got your bag in your car, perfect. Let me just give you the exact address …”

++++++++++++

“She’s like that for three days now. Not talking, barely eating, she didn’t even change the underwear she wears as clothes. I don’t think she washed herself either. And I couldn’t get her to go to school.”

“Hi Clara, my name is Joe, could we have a little talk?”

“That’s a man’s name.”

“Clara! Could you …”

“It’s ok Ms. Lewinksi, I’ll take it from here. Didn’t you say you’re late for work already?”

“Oh gee, you’re right, sorry. I got the lunch shift today, so I should be back in about four hours, darling, I hope you’re good. And be polite to the nurse, she’s here to help you.”

There was an obvious change in Clara’s behaviour the moment the door fell in its hinges. Instead of slouching she sat back on the sofa cross-legged, revealing a quite soiled looking panty and took out a bag of chips well hidden behind one of the cushions. With a satisfied sigh she stuffed herself with junk food, her look however never straying from the screen. So I joined her, after initial surprise she even accepted that I stole some of her chips.

“Oh no, don’t tell me he’s gonna leave her.”

“What you expect? Men.”

Oh wow, I got a reaction, although quite unintentionally as I had lost myself in that stupid soap. But one should never miss an opportunity …

“It’s Josefine, by the way.”

She looked up in confusion. Well, another first …

“My name.”

“Josephine?”

“No, Josefine. My mother’s grandmother was Danish and my mother thought I should be called after her, but no one ever knew how to spell it, so it became Joe. And I look like a man anyway …”

“Not with these boobs.”

She turned back to the television, but it was obvious that she had troubles to keep her sullen exterior and not to grin: Time for my clothes pin trick.

“I don’t stink like that.”

When my nodding head also had the clothes pin wobbling on my nose, she broke down giggling, falling over trying to hide her face in one of the pillows. But every time she looked up and saw me sitting there with my nose blocked, she cracked up laughing again.

“Ok, I take a bath, you come?”

The T shirt was already lying on the floor, when I met her in the bathroom, her little breasts standing proud with her brownish nipples obviously quite happy to have someone looking at them. She was just trying to let her panties disappear into the hamper, but my experienced eyes saw the bloody spot amidst the yellow white smear. I always wondered what it was with teenage girls wallowing in their bodily fluids, but it seems that they found it reassuring to be enveloped by their stinky smell, when hitting one of their funks.

“You’re having your period?”

“No. Luckily not. Larissa had hers already and she says it hurts and smells and is generally yucky. I also think it makes her mean like with Mummy, we always have fights when she has hers, although she promised it’s going to be better now with the … you know.”

Well it seems people actually believed the marketing bullshit about the vagi-anal valves solving their period problems. Carla was masking her sudden shyness with talking, her hand covering her crotch.

“So did you scratch yourself?”

She just nodded imperceptibly: a common problem with fresh clitoridectomies that the girls try to get some feeling back even if it means rubbing themselves raw.

“May I have a look? After all I’m a nurse … and I don’t have any knives …”

I wiggled my hands in front of her eyes, which made her giggle and she spread her legs, one food on the rim of the bath tub. There was a long red gash next to the pink scar, where once her clit resided, the scars of her former inner lips barely visible, proof of a job well done.

“Well, well, young lady, Sally made you such a beautiful pussy and you cut it all up, what shall we do now?”

“Larissa said that it’s ugly. Pussies should have a skin there to protect the hole and slicing off the button is barbaric, because it doesn’t help anyway as you only become hornier and hornier and her sister has become all crazy and fucks anything which moves since her college medical, always chasing the feeling she can’t have anymore.”

Quite an outburst and I expected her to cry at any moment the way her lips quivered.

“And I really don’t like all this. Before everything was so much easier, every time I made a little tinkle I just touched down there and it felt good and that was it. Now it’s all so complicated, with coming or not coming and Mommy saying you have to make sure not to fall for the wrong people and your pussy makes you do things, which you later regret. And I so wanted to look like her and now she is all smooth and I’m still ugly with this lips and this hole, only because they don’t do teenage girls like that.”

A single tear made her way down the pale cheeks, her brown greenish eyes looking at me with furious reproach. Time to take control to help this confused teenager finding her own way.

“Make you a deal: You clean a little bit all the pussy cheese and I get my bag to see, what I can do.”

A minute later I looked at a pink beauty, just some specks of white still clinging to the freshly re-grown hair around her pussy, her little hole producing new stuff through the membrane, which nearly covered the entrance.

“I will have to close the gash with some staples, but it will stay visible as it is torn rather then cut. What did you use?”

“A screw driver.”

“And you liked how it hurt.”

Her eyes big with longing were answer enough.

“So I will make a parallel gash on the other site, and with the clit scar it will form a nice symbol, a mark of bravery no one else has on her pussy. Would you like that?”

“I’ll try to hold still.”

She held open the outer lips herself, pushing her hips towards me in defiance, her legs already trembling in anticipation even before I made the first cut. I had to make several smaller cuts to produce a similar jagged effect to mirror the gash on her left side, each time she hissed and shook, her fingernails digging into her out lips. I finished, when the first tears dripped onto my face and a keening noise told me that Carla was at the end of her endurance.

“Just the staples and you’ll be all pretty.”

It took just four to close the two wounds, but each staple produced a little shout and a trickle from her very sore looking pee hole.

“No Liquid Skin, I wanna feel it.”

“Someone’s really brave, but let me put some healing cream left and right and I think this little hole in the middle could also use some, but it might be better if you pee first.”

Mewling she crawled into the bath tub rather bowlegged and when the first pee hit her wounds she flailed with her arms shrieking.

“Uhhuhh, this hurts … gee this hurts so good.”

She came to rest with her face against the tiles, her fists hammering against the wall. I started the water from the shower and she shrieked again. It took us some time to get her to sit in the bath tub, so I could wash her lithe body and her beautiful wavy brown hair, only now revealing its beauty, when I was blow-drying it. She couldn’t stop looking at her three scars, opening and closing her outer pussy lips, hissing every time with the pain. When I had pinched her brown hard nipples, while washing her breasts, she had pushed her pelvis into the hot water from the faucet, grunting, sputtering and neighing like a mare in heat. Only while I was massaging her head, did she quieten down and started to play with the soap bubbles.

“I so liked to blow bubbles as a child, I could do it for hours. They were just there, without any real reason, just for me too play with and all of them beautiful.”

“Like with pussies. They are all just there, each different and each one beautiful in its own right, irrespective if the are all wrinkled and meaty like Larissa’s or clean and marked like yours or all closed and gone like your Mom’s, don’t you think?”

She didn’t answer but it was obvious that a seed was planted. While she was finishing blow-drying, she was humming to herself and swaying to her own little tune. I had found the old dress with the violet and red flowers, which she liked as a ten year old and which her mother had pointed out to me as one of her favourites. She didn’t even protest, when I passed it to her to model it for me back in the living room of her mother’s rather shabby apartment. And although it was tight around the shoulders and the zipper didn’t quite close on top, we had fun imaging that she could wear it to school without any underwear as it still was going way past her knees and that everyone would look at her boobies as they were pushed out in quite a sexy way. When I gave her the soap bubble bottle, which I had discovered stacked with her old clothes, she screamed in teenage delight. Many bubbles later she suddenly lifted her dress and opened her petals.

“I actually think now that it is beautiful. And I will tell Larissa that hers is beautiful as well. Didn’t you say my pee hole needs some cream?”

The little brat certainly had a way getting me to play with her pussy. Pushing the top of the cream tube into the little hole and squeezing it made her bite her lower lips and wriggle her hips. But when I presented her with an urethral sound as a much safer alternative for pee hole play, she hugged me really tight and started crying, rubbing her legs together, mumbling little thanks. Well, a little cry is always a good start for healing.

++++++++++++

“Melissa! Long time no hear, good to listen to your sexy voice … Yes, it’s Joe. … The vagi-anal valves? Yeah, we’ve got several in store, so drop by any time to have a look at them, quite an ingenious invention by our dear Dr. Klutzky this little thing … Ok, no problem see you then …”

“The Melissa?”

“Yeah, the one and only, so you better behave Chrissy, she’s known to have some tricks up her sleeve which even nullified girls like yourself will find hard to cope with.”

“I think I just peed myself.”

“Hussy.”