The Weekend of Wellness: Nurse Carla’s Story

Author’s Note: I really like the A Visit To The Nurse trilogy, and I wanted to continue exploring that concept, though with different characters and from a different perspective.

My name is Nurse Carla. I am genuine RN. We’re all genuine nurses. For forty hours a week, I work at a world-class hospital. So, how did I become a Nurse? A friend recruited me. She knew that I would appreciate a place that granted me more…authority…over my patients. This is my fourth time at the Weekend of Wellness.

Don’t look so alarmed. All these people are here willingly. To them, it’s a great honor to be asked to participate. Some even beg for it. Look at them. Standing in line naked and shivering. Waiting to be shaved like sheep. Ready to sacrifice. Such a beautiful sight.

Oh, why do we shave them? Mainly for hygiene and convenience. They’re passed around like party favors the whole weekend. Look at the one with blonde hair. Right down to her waist. Shameful. Shouldn’t even be walking in here like that. Her Nurse should have shaved it off earlier. I would have shaved her bald the moment that she first came into my office. Imagine having to clean THAT between usages. Once it’s off, she can be hosed off quickly when needed.

The humiliation that the patient experiences is just an added benefit. It forces them in a submissive headspace. Have you ever been a submissive? You must be interested if you’re here. Look at you. You’re blushing. We are always accepting patients. Always. Why don’t you take off that street clothing and sit in my chair? Yes, just give everything to Orderly John. That’s a good girl. We will return everything when the weekend is over.

Spread those legs and let me look at that black bush! Yikes. So thick and coarse. Let me get my clippers. Stay still as I buzz it off. There. Was that so bad? Look at it now. Just a fine stubble now. Much better. No touching though. Now let’s take those bushy black eyebrows. What a shame. Never been touched with tweezers but off with two swipes of my clippers. Now let’s take care of this overgrown mess on your head. I wish that you can see all these black curls being stripped from your scalp. We should get mirrors for next year, so the patients can watch themselves being sheared. Well, you can see the aftermath. Look at the bin. Look. See all that was once on your head mixed with the hair of all the other patients that I helped intake.

What? Why are you crying? Crying patients get the razor! It’s for the best though. There’s nothing like the feel of smooth skin. You will grow to appreciate being bald, patient. Time to finish you off. Spread those legs again. Let me lather up that stubbly snatch. You will appreciate this when we’re using that hole. And all your other holes. Over and over again. For your own good. There. Nice and smooth. And let’s take care of your head and eyebrows. Don’t wrinkle up that nose at the smell of the shaving cream. It’s foolish to waste money on expensive comforts. We’re focused on patient care here. Stay still as I use my straight razor. There. Every hair gone.

Let me just stamp “patient” on your forehead and get you in a medical gown. There. Now take a look at yourself in my hand mirror. Not so pretty anymore but that’s the sacrifice that you chose to make. We don’t have a bed allocated for you, but we have patients that don’t mind sharing, baldie. Especially with a nice set of holes like yourself.

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