NEW story - Saw fantasy

Saw Fantasy

I wake up groggy, the tranquilizer slowly wearing off. I don't know where I am - it's dimly lit, and it smells like oil and old car parts. What the hell happened? I'm tied down somehow, I can barely move, but my arms seem to be free. I start trying to figure out what's going on, feeling around, and a big TV pops on in front of me.

The scary masked guy says that I shouldn't move, to stay right where I am. For some reason, I listen - I freeze and stare at the screen. He wears a freaky rubber mask, and his voice is deep with rough edges. He starts talking to me.

"Cathy, you have a choice to make right now, literally a life or death decision. Look at the clock below the screen. It is counting down from twenty minutes. At the end of that countdown, an explosive charge directly below you will detonate, and destroy everything in this room. There is a large metal door behind you, twenty feet away. One minute before the explosion, it will start to close. Nothing can stop it from closing once it starts, and nothing can open it again. to survive, you will have to make it through that door."

I begin to panic. What the fuck was going on?

"As you can see, you are locked to this platform. There is a key that can release you, attached to a chain that is within your reach. However, if you reach out to take it, a weight will be released from the ceiling above you, aimed directly at your back. It will sever your spine completely. It will paralyze you. You will then be able to unlock yourself and get through the door - though I warn you, that twenty feet will take you longer than you expect with a broken back."

I'm breathing heavy. This has to be some sick joke.

"By my calculations you have a little over eighteen minutes left. So you need to choose. You can live, spending the rest of your life in a wheelchair, or you can be killed when that clock reaches zero. I leave the decision to you."

I looked at the clock. It ticked to eighteen minutes as the sicko in the mask finished. The screen went black. I looked around, panicked. The room was some kind of storage room or workshop, though it looked unused. I spotted the brass key on the chain as promised, and slowly went to reach for it. As I expected, there is a metal wire connected to my wrists that pulls tight as I get about six inches from the key. The cable must lead to the trigger for the weight dangling precariously above me. I pull my hands back and think. I'm dripping with sweat.

Seventeen minutes. The red digital numbers count down with frightening speed. I scream, scream like I have never screamed before. I keep screaming and screaming until my throat is completely hoarse and I'm not making any sound. Nobody is coming.

Fifteen minutes. It has to be bullshit. This kind of thing doesn't happen, it must be some kind of sick prank, like a twisted reality TV show. But was it? I tried to think about what the hell happened, how I got here. I remembered the concert - it was a concert, right? Loud band, smoky... I had drinks. No, a drink. Someone gave me a drink. A beer? what happened then? I couldn't remember, all the memories jumbled in my head. Drugged? Was I drugged? Oh shit, was this fucking real??

Thirteen minutes. I have thirteen minutes to live. I can't stop the tears from coming, my vision is blurred by stinging tears mixed with sweat. I can't even brush the hairs out of my face.

Twelve minutes. I try reaching slowly for the key. Carefully reaching, trying to push the tied cable back on my arms. It's tight, I can't move it much. The cable tightens, I move another quarter inch. I hear a creak from above me, a metallic clicking noise. I freeze. My fingers are five inches from the key. Five fucking inches between life and death.

Eleven minutes. I don't have to die. If the wacko was telling the truth, I can just reach out and grab the key. And break my back. And live my life in a wheelchair. No more dance. No more cycling. No more sex. Assuming I could unlock myself and get through the door in time. Assuming the trauma of breaking my back didn't knock me unconscious. Assuming the masked wackjob was telling the truth and grabbing the key released me and didn't trigger the bomb early.

9:59 9:58 9:57

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I reach out my hands for the key and I hear it, I hear the metal 'click' and I think I can even hear the whir of the weight falling, falling through the air towards me. I grasp the key in both hands and close my eyes.

The impact hurts, hurts like I can't believe, but the worst part is where I don't hurt. My body just ends at my stomach. My upper back and breasts hurt, hurt like red fire, but that fire ends in a sinister line of 'nothing' I'm breathing heavy, breathing fast. Trying to move. The clock is still counting down.

9:00 I find the lock and fumble with the key, almost dropping it through my sweat-slicked fingers. It takes me three tries, but I get the key in and I hear the 'click' of my bonds opening. I shrug my shoulders and chains drop to the floor with a shrill clatter. I try pushing myself off the bench I've been chained to and I fall to the floor, my balance gone. I hit with a hard thud and feel my shoulder pop horribly, a new sharp pain shooting through me. I begin to try to crawl, and it's like the wacko said, it's hard, really hard, to drag my broken back and dead, limp, numb legs behind me across the floor.

7:00 FUCK! I'm screaming and trying to drag myself. I see the door now, it looks so fucking far away. I pull myself, fingers clawing into the concrete floor until they bleed. I move inch by inch. I can't see the clock any more. I'm driven by pure fear and rage and adrenaline, and I keep crawling.

I'm swearing, I'm panting, my shoulder is killing me, and I've only covered half the distance. How long has it been. I keep pulling. Keep crawling.

It's such an odd sensation, when I stop to think about it. My lower half is dead weight - I feel nothing at all, like I just end at my stomach. I don't look back, for fear of seeing me really like that, seeing my body end at my ribcage, my entrails and viscera dragging behind me in a crimson red trail.

I'm six or seven feet now. I can see beyond the door. How much longer?

I hear a new sound, a hum, and that huge door begins to close. It's slow, it will likely take the full minute to close completely, but I'm not through it yet. Not even close. I shriek and scream and I pull myself, pull my numb crippled body towards that giant door. There's a caterpillar screw at the top, slowly spinning. Caterpillar screw - I remember that name because I saw it in school once and thought it was funny.

School. I'll have to use a wheelchair at school. Fuck fuck fuck.

The door is more than half closed when I reach it, exhausted. I grab onto the edge to try and stop it, but it doesn't budge. It keeps closing with that slow, ponderous movement. I keep pulling myself through it, I'm exhausted, I'm in terrible pain. My hands are bloody from crawling across the rough cement. I've only got seconds to get through the door.

I don't make it. There isn't any pain, thankfully. I can't get through the door all the way, and the psycho in the mask was right - there was no way to stop it. I made it through to my knees when the door finally pinned me, prevented me from moving any more. So I watch. Watch the giant steel door slowly compress my legs, my knees, and then simply amputate them. I'm completely detached from the process, as I can't feel a thing, and suddenly I'm able to pull myself away from the door, my mangled stumps pulling away with a sick sound that makes me want to vomit.

Instead of that, I black out, just as I hear the loud concussive blast that likely liquefied everything in the room. Including my legs.

I wake up to blinding white light. I remember everything, every moment of the ordeal. I know I'm dead. I look around and see an angel, hovering beside me. no, not angel. A nurse. I'm not dead. fuck.

The doctor is dripping with faux compassion as he details my 'condition'. My back was completely severed along two thoracic vertebrae. I was completely paralyzed from my stomach down, zero chance of recovery thanks to all the moving I did to crawl out of the room. Sick bastard knew that. Legs amputated mid-thigh. I could see the bulky round bandaged 'things', the remainders of my long, healthy legs, under the light hospital sheets. And again - at least it didn't hurt. I assume that anyone else losing their legs in a steel door would probably be in a considerable amount of pain.

Police are there, of course, asking a million questions. My mom, freaking out, crying. I'm detached from it all. Like it's all happening to someone else. Like I didn't sneak out of the house to see a concert. Like I'll wake up and play soccer again and dance again and...

I'm sitting alone now, in a hospital waiting area, looking out the big windows. Sitting in a wheelchair. Not MY wheelchair - they said that would come in a week or so. I cant' feel anything below my belly button, and I have a wide Velcro belt around my waist, holding me in the wheelchair.

I look out the window, and all I can see is him. That freaky rubber mask. That hoarse voice. And for some reason, something deep in my brain glows red, and I smile...

Blogging about a personal problem

so, I have this dilemma. Heather and I have a pretty close friend, let's call her 'Michelle'. I've always liked Michelle as a person, We've been friends with her for a couple years, she's one of our closer 'circle of friends' - someone we hang out with at least once or twice a month, usually more, we send her a card on her birthday, etc...
I've never been particularly attracted to Michelle physically, he's a bit more butch than I like, and she's kind of plain looking. I've never fantasized about her, let's put it that way.
On Monday, Michelle broke her leg pretty bad in a horseback riding accident. We went to see her this morning, as she's out of the hospital. She's in good spirits, not in too much pain, and she's in a full,long-leg pink fiberglass cast. Aluminum crutches, the whole thing. Now, suddenly, in my pure devotee/medical fetish brain, she's SO HOT and I find myself staring at her casted leg, her wiggling toes. Fantasizing pretty heavily about her, about making out with her, running my hands up and down her cast, playing with her toes, even making love to her and feeling that rigid, rough fiberglass against my cheek as I eat her...
Of course I'm in a very solid, very awesome long term relationship, and I don't like these feelings. I play online a bit, fantasy play with chat partners, but that's all fantasy, I'm never going to 'hook up' with anyone I chat with online. Michelle lives ten minutes from me, is gay, and we've known each other and partied together for years. I think I've even kissed her, though the details of that particular party are a little fuzzy...
So what the hell do I do? I don't want to upset Heather or make her jealous, but I can't get that pink long leg cast out of my head. I've got to try my best not to think about it or start texting her like some crazy stalker...

Story - The Chair Part 3 - Unexpected Results

The Chair 3: Unexpected Results By ParaGirl


Brian was amazed when he saw the full legbraces perched in

a corner at the yard sale. He picked them up and looked them

over. They looked about Susan's size, he thought to himself.

Hmm, no price listed. He brought them up to the old woman who

seemed to running the place to ask how much they were, but she

seemed very agitated.



"They are not for you, young man." She said to him

strangely.



"But they're here, they looked like they were for sale, and

I want them, so here's a hundred bucks." He dropped the bills

on the table and walked off with the braces. He heard the woman

muttering under her breath, something about a mistake, but he

didn't care. He was excited just to think about Susan wearing

the new braces.



The were pretty nice, really, all metal with velcro closures

and pretty little black shoes with straps across the tops. He

hoped Susan would go for them, she enjoyed playing in his little

handicapped girl fantasies once in a while, and these would be

perfect for a marathon weekend game, he just had to pick the

right time, the perfect circumstances, everything had to be just

right.



In the following weeks, Brian bought a pair of new forearm

crutches to go with the braces, cleaned up the braces so they

were like new, even rented a wheelchair with a crutch-holder

mounted on the back. He finally picked the perfect weekend,

asked Susan if she was in for a great weekend of fun and games,

which she eagerly said yes to, and rented the room, a huge suite

in a very nice hotel, hot tub, big TV with cable, giant

california king sized bed, and even a wet bar. It cost a

fortune for the weekend, but Brian didn't have any problem with

cash, and he hoped that Susan would not only be impressed, but

really get into the act this time and go all the way in her

pretending.



Brian didn't really have anything for actually handicapped

girls. He had dated a girl in a wheelchair in high school,

Marie. She had cerebral palsy, couldn't walk at all, her feet

and legs palsied, her hands a bit palsied as well. She was

nice, and alot of fun, but he hadn't liked the extra baggage her

handicap had burdened the relationship with and they had broken

up, but he kept thinking about her, how interesting and exotic

she had been to him because of her handicap. He used to love

helping her in and out of her wheelchair, help her do things she

couldn't, but it had eventually been too much for him. In

college he still had his fascination when he met Gwen, a

beautiful Co-ed who he was genuinely fond of. A short time into

their relationship, Brian confessed his fascinations to her, and

amazingly she was into it. It was college, a wild time for wild

kids, and Gwen started pretending to be wheelchair bound all the

time for him, givin him head from her wheelchair, letting him

help her in and out of it, into the car, all sorts of things,

until the day he came home to find her gone. She had left a

short not, how fun it had been, how kind he was, but she had

some things to thik over, and wouldn't be seeing him again. It

was no big deal to him, there had been others, would be many

more, but it taught him something important: His fantasy wasn't

handicapped women, it was able-bodied women pretending to be

handicapped. It was everything he loved about handicapped

women with none of the drawbacks, and he was determined to find

other women who were interested.



After graduation he had met stacy, who liked to pretend she

was blind, and Anna, who liked to wrap her arms against her

sides and eat with her feet, lori, who used crutches everywhere

she went, all were fun new experiences, but all grew stale after

a few months. Then he had met Susan. Susan was bright, pretty,

with beautiful red hair and a never-quit smile. Once he had

told her the truth about his little kink, she was interested,

but not overboard, and she was into a wide variety of handicaps,

even thinking up games and scenarios all her own. There was the

time she had gotten a friend to help her, and he came home to

find her with arms and legs folded and wrapped up, and then a

sleek body-stocking over them, so she looked like a quadruple

amputee.



The Handicapped game wasn't an obsession in their

relationship, but it was usually mutually fun and exciting

sexually, which was why Susan and Brian had not only lasted but

even now had a strong, loving relationship. Unfortunately, the

games had been geeting a little stale lately, nothing new, no

new fun. The same old thing was still fun, but it had lost

something, which was why the legbraces had come at such a

perfect time.



Brian left the legbraces and crutches arranged on the bed,

left the wheelchair parked nearby, and left a dozen roses and a

chilled bottle of Dom Peringon on the table. As a last measure,

he uplugged the phone from the wall and stuck it in a drawer.

No disturbancees this weekend for them! He left and locked the

door behind him, thinking that Susan would be there in an hour,

not knowing what to expect, but knowing what to do once she got

there and saw what he had brought her. He would arrive shorly

after her, to whatever fun awaited him over the weekend.







Susan got to the room. She was excited for the change, the

new scenery, because latley her relationship with Brian had

gotten a little dull, it had lost some of the spark she had

loved so much. She was sure that whatever Brian had in store

would put that spark and excitement back with a vengence.



The first thing she noticed was the roses, a beautiful

boquet on the table by a bottle of what she knew was Dom. Then

she saw the wheelchair by the bed. Ahh, she though, wheelchair

games it is. She was just noticing that it wasn't the usual

sport model chair Brian picked up when she was to play

paralyzed, but a rather clunky looking hospital model. At the

same moment, she looked on the bed and was amazed at what she

saw. She didn't know how Brian had done it, but



there was a pair of full leg legbraces on the bed, along with a

pair of crutches. This WAS going to be fun, Brian was always so

clever. She put her bag on the floor and pulled out an outfit

she thought would be perfect for when Brian got there. She went

to start putting on the braces, then stopped. She knew Brian

would want to be here for this, so she got dressed and waited

for him to show up.







When Brian walked into the room, the first thing he saw was

legs, legs clad in honey-brown nylons, with no shoes on, the

feet turned in and sitting in the footrests of a wheelchair.

Susan wheeled up to him, her red hair behind her in a loose pony

tail, wearing a short blue denim mini-dress with thin shoulder

straps. She was, as usual, stunning, but he was a little

confused.



"I was hoping for a standing hug when I got here." he said.



"You didn't expect me to put my braces on by myself, did

you? How am I supposed to do that if my legs don't work? I was

waiting for you to help me you silly. Here, help me onto the bed

so I can get these on and stand to give you your hug."



Brian cradled the wheelchair bound Susan in his arms and

lifted her onto the bed. He felt the muscles in her legs

tensing and flexing as he put her on the bed and positioned

them. She like to play crippled, but she usually wasn't very

good at it, but he gave her credit, she was eager and

imaginative.



Susan sat on the bed and watched Brian lift her leg into

one of the braces. He put her foot into the small black shoe,

laying her leg into the brace. He tightened the straps around

her thigh and her knee, tightening the strap on the shoe, and

locking the knee. It was amazing, her leg was totally fixed,

she could barely wiggle it. She watched Brian put her other leg

into it's brace and lock it in.



"How are they?" He asked.



Susan wiggled her feet just a little. "The shoes are kind

of tight, actually hon."



"Well, I was a little afraid of that Sue, but give them a

shot for now, if they get really uncomfortable, we'll ditch the

braces, OK?"



"Allright, but I think they'll be OK, they're already

starting to feel better."



"Good, now give these a try." he said as he handed her the

aluminum forearm crutches.



"Help me up." Susan said to him. He helped her slide her

braced legs over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. She

stood up for the first time on the braces and almost fell.



"Ooh, hard to balance on these." Sue said, steading

herself on the edge of the bed. She took the crutches and put

her weight on them. She took a tentative step, then another,

her legs strapped into the braces, immobile, and she realized

they felt odd, different. She shrugged it off to the braces and

took another step, then another. It was difficult, more

difficult than she had thought it would be, it was as if while

in the braces her legs weren't her own. She began to walk

slowly with a swing-through motion, putting her crutches in

front of her, supporting herself on them, and swinging her legs

through. She turned and saw Brian staring at her, obviously

excited at her newfound handicap. She crutched back over to him

and stopped in front of him. She supported herself on her

braced legs, using one crutch for balance, and with the other

hand grabbed his crotch, feeling his hardness there. She rubbed

him up and down a couple of times, teasing him.



"Ooh, somebody likes me as his little crippled girlfriend."

she said, smiling. He stared at her, red hair, that denim

mini-dress, standing there on crutches, and he could see her

legs, covered buy those honey-colored nylons, encased in the

braces. In the braces they actually looked different, a little

thinner, kind of strange. He didn't think about it long,

because she was crutching over to the table to get the Dom.



"I thought that might wait Sue." He said. "I wanted to

try something from the first time I saw those braces."



"And what is that?" Sue asked coyly.



"I'll show you" he relied, and lifted her up, cradling her

as he had earlier from the wheelchair, but now her legs stuck

out straight. He set her down by the wall, so she was standing,

braced legs apart, rear end pressed againdt the wall. She

dropped her crutches as he rubbed between her legs, feeling the

satin panties. He kissed and sucked at her neck as he rubbed

her, then lifted the minidress up over her head. She wore no

bra, and her nipples were erect and ready. He threw the dress

aside and looked over her. She was beautiful, firm, and her

legs so sexy encased in those braces. He kissed her breasts,

licking down her stomach, but when he got to her panties, he

came upon a problem. With her legs braced and spread as they

were, he couldn't pull them down. He slid them aside and kissed

her there, feeling her legs quiver in the braces. She gripped

his hair in both hands and moaned as he licked her gently. He

rubbed her some more and continued pleasuring her orally until

she came, and she slid down the wall, her legs spreading more

because she couldn't really do anything else with them. She sat

there for a couple of minutes, then looked up at Brian.



"Help me up hon, I can't get up at all."



Brian helped her up to her feet, steading her and getting

her crutches. She crutched over to her wheelchair.



"Help me into this thing, please Brian, I want to get off

my feet."



"OK, here." Brian replied, moving the legrests out of the

way, easing her into the seat, her legs still locked out in

front of her. He lifted her legs, moving the legrests back, and

unlocked the knee locks on the braces. He eased Susans' legs

into the footrests and then put her crutches into the back of

the wheelchair in the crutch holders. Sue wheeled around a

little, and Brian watched her, her legs so fragile looking now

in the braces. She wheeled up in front of him and undid his

belt. She knew this was one of his strongets fantasies, was to

get oral sex from a woman in a wheelchair, and as she began to

stroke him, sliding his pants down, he ran his fingers through

her hair. He moaned deeply as she took his cock into her mouth

and began to suck him off. She looked up into his eyes, knowing

he liked to watch as she sucked him, looking at her in the

wheelchair. She continued to suck him, caress his balls from

her wheelchair until she felt him tense up, and he came warm and

wet into her mouth. She swallowed it all and he collapsed onto

the bed.



"You know, sometimes I think you are so lucky to be in the

wheelchair, Sue, because after a good one I can hardly stand."



"I know what you mean." Susan replied, "Speaking of

standing, I need to use the ladies room, I might as well get up

to go." She pulled the crutches from their holder and lifted a

leg, moving the legrest out of the way. She moved the other

legrest out of the way, then stopped.



"What's wrong Sue?"



"My legs, they feel really odd."



"What do you mean odd?"



"I can't straighten them out, it's like I can't move them."



"It's just the braces Sue, I'm sure."



"I don't think so Brian, They don't feel right either."

Susan was feeling worried now, not sure waht was going on.

"Help me get them off, please hon."



"OK, Here, let me help you to the bed."



Brian lifted her again and laid her on the bed. Susan

watched as he unstrapped her legs from the braces. As he pulled

them from her legs, they both gasped.



They weren't her legs. The looked thin, the muscles were

soft and flaccid, her feet were awful, bent and palsied, toes

curled up. She was still wearing the honey-colored nylons,

which made the discovery even more scary.



"What the hell is wrong with my legs, Brian?!" Susan asked

frantically.



"I don't know, I have no idea. They look like-"



"Look like what Brian?"



"Cerebral Palsy, one of my former girlfrineds had it, and

her legs looked just like that."



"But I don't have Cerebral Palsy, Brian!"



"You do now, although I have no idea how Sue."



"So what do we do, call 911? Go to a doctor?"



"We should try and figure out what happened, I think. I

mean, an hour ago your legs were fine, so what could have

happened?"



"Help me into the wheelchair again, Brian, I still have to

go to the bathroom."



"OK, here you go." He lifted her, and her legs just

dangled there, her feet flopping limply.



"My god, Brian, look at my legs! They're totally dead!"



"Can you feel them at all?"



"I can feel tham OK, but I can't really move them. Wait, I

can wiggle my toes a little."



Brian watched Sue's toes wiggle a little in her nylons. He

sat her in the wheelchair and placed her feet in the footrests.

He pushed her into the bathroom.



"Do you want help? Do you think you can do it on your own?"



"I don't know, you'd better help, actually, I don't hink I

can deal with this right now."



Brian first slid her underwear off while she was still in

the wheelchair, then lifetd her and eased her onto the toilet.

He left her alone as she did what she needed to do, and came

back when she called to him. He lifted her back into her

wheelchair and pushed her back into the bedroom.



"Can you put the braces back on me Brian? I hate bieng

confined to this wheelchair, I'd like to walk around, even if it

is on crutches."



Brian sat her back on the bed and put the braces back onto

her legs. He helped her onto her feet and handed her the

crutches.



"Hand me my dress please Brian, I feel cold all of a

sudden, OK."



Brian handed her the dress and held her up as she put the

minidress back on. She crutched back and forth in the room,

like pacing.



"What am I going to do, Brian?? I'm handicapped, my legs

are crippled, how did that happen?? Am I going to stay this

way?? Am I suddenly crippled for life??"



"I wish I knew, hon, I wish I knew. I think we should call

a doctor and tell him everything that happened, maybe ther's an

explanation for all of this."



"I think you're right, can you take me to the hospital?"



"Yes, but how are we going to get you there?"



"The car, of course, what else?"



"No, I mean, if I take you to a hospital wearing legbraces,

and tell the doctor you're legs don't work any more, what is he

going to think?"



"I don't care, I want to wear them, I need to wear them, I

feel totally crippled without them, looking at those crippled

legs sitting in that wheelchair, no, I'm going in the legbraces."



"OK, We'll go now, just let me get dressed and we'll leave."



"OK, I'll sit here on the bed while you get ready." Susan

lowered herself slowly onto the edge of the bed, then used her

arms to pull herself up onto it. She watched her legs stick

straight out over the edge of the bed, and at a whim clicked the

knee locks open and watched her lower legs drop limply down.

She felt ready to cry. Brian came back in dressed and sat on

the bed to put his shoes back on.



"Ready to go Susan?"



"I guess so, help me to my feet."



"You sure you don't want the wheelchair?"



"I'm sure, just help me to my feet, OK?"



Brian lifted Susans' braced legs and locked them out

straight, then helped her forward and put her feet to the floor.

He steadied her as she stood, handing her the crutches. He

follwed her out of the hotel and out to the car.



"I guess I'll drive" brian said jokingly, but the tension

in his voice betrayed his true feelings.



"Help me into the car Brain, and quit with the jokes, OK."



Brian opened the car door and held Susan under her arms,

lowering her down into the seat. He then unlocked her knee

locks and lifted her legs into the car. It was difficult, he

didn't know if she'd ever get the hang of it if her condition

was indeed permanant.







The drive to the hospital was in silence. Susan couldn't

bring herself to speak, and Brian didn't know what to say. They

both kept throwing furative glances down at Susan's legs, the

braces. Brian even saw Susan glance into the back seat at her

crutches. What could he do? He kept thinking back to Marie,

her crippled feet and palsied hands, having to help her in and

out of her wheelchair, having to do so much for her. Would

Susan end up like that? He hoped not, because he had a feeling

that what didn't work with Marie wouldn't work with Susan,

either. He would give it his best shot, but what could he do?







"I've really never seen anything like it, to be honest."

Doctor Randall said. He was looking at the X-rays and test

results for Susans' legs. "All these results indicate a form of

Palsy, afflicting the lower body exclusively. The strangest

part about it, if what you both say is true, is that the

muscular and skeletal damage seems to be the result of years in

this condition, maybe a lifetime."



"So what can you do?"



"Nothing, I'm afraid, Susan. With the amount of muscular

damage, you will almost certainly never stand again, at least

not without extensive braces, and I don't want to alarm you, but

if the muscular degeneration continues, even the braces won't

help, you'll be confined to a wheelchair."



"A wheelchair! I can't, I won't accept that, doctor. At

five this afternoon I was perfectly fine, my legs were as strong

and healthy as yours, and now you're telling me I'll be confined

to a wheelchair or full leg braces for the rest of my life? I

can't accept that at all."



"I don't know what else to tell you. We have an excellent

physical therapy department here, and can teach you how to liva

a mostly normal and productive life with your disability, but

more than that I can't promise. I'd like you to stay here

overnight, and run a few more tests on your legs in the morning.

The nurse will help you to your room.



A nurse came in with a wheelchair, and Brian lifted Susan

from the examination table into it. He arranged her legs for

her, but he was pretty sure he had made his decision on what to

do. As he helped Susan into her hospital bed, watching one of

her palsied feet dangle so limply, he thought about how many

times he had done this for Marie, and knew his decision was the

right one, at least for him. As Susan fell asleep in the

hospital, Brian left. He had no plans to return.







"Oh my God!!" was the first thing the nurse heard that

morning from the patient rooms. She rushed in to see the new

patient, Susan, jumping up and down with glee, even doing

jumping jacks. She had no idea why until she remembered what

this woman was in for. Last night she was wheelchair bound, her

legs afflicted with some kind of palsy, but now she seemed to be

fine, not only fine but better than she had ever been. She

rushed to get the doctor, who later confirmed by X-ray that

somehow Susan's legs had regenerated overnight. It could only

be called a miracle, and it seemed to be a morning for miracles.

Less than an hour later, a young patient of his, a nine year

old girl who had been paralyzed since birth, walked in with her

mother in tears behind her. He couldn't understand or explain

it, and he was pretty sure he didn't really want to.







2 Months Later







Brian was sitting with an attractive brunette in a dark

bar, drinking and talking animatedly.



"You know, I've been attracted to handicapped people since

high school, I guess."



"Really, that's very interesting. Not many people would

admit that, it's kind of wierd, don't you think.?"



"To most people, yes, I guess it is, but I didn't think

you'd mind, if you know what I mean."



"You mean my wheelchair, of course. To tell the truth, I'm

still new to it, and I'm not really sure how I feel about it

all."



"Well, we could go over to my place and talk about how you

feel about it, couldn't we?"



"Actually, I think I'd like that."



"Well then, follow me, Brian, we can take my car. I'll

help you into it, if you need it."



"I'll try to manage, Lucy, but thanks." Brain wheeled

himself out from behind the table and followed the woman out

into the parking lot. As he was leaving the bar, he saw someone

familiar across the street, an old woman, who looked kind of

like a street person, was staring at him. He tried to remember

where he'd seen her, but he was falling behind lucy. He still

wasn't very fast in this damned wheelchair. He caught himself

wondering how Susan was doing, but he let that pass. He was

sure she had her own problems to deal with now.



The End

The Chair - Part 2 - Braces

The Chair 2: Braces By ParaGirl


It all started so innocently. Cindy found the aluminum

forearm crutches and AFO braces at a yard sale, of all places.

She was running a finger down the smooth aluminum when the old

woman running the sale said to her, 'Go ahead, take them.' She

left with the crutches and braces under her arm, and she

couldn't wait to get to her house and try them out.



Cindy had always been interested in crutches, ever since

she was a little girl. Sprained ankles, casts, anything like

that. She thought it was fun, a cool game, and now, at 22, she

still enjoyed wrapping an ankle up and crutching to the mall,

going to work on crutches for a week, etc... When she saw the

braces and forearm crutches, which had always been her favorite

style, she had to have them, so she took them home. She had

never been in braces before, and didn't know what to expect, so

she couldn't wait to find out.




She got her new toys home and looked at them. The crutches

were almost new, aluminum, and obviously high quality. She

looked ath the braces. They were interesting, rigid plastic

molds which came up to her knees, with wide elastic and velcro

bands at the top to hold them firmly. They looked about the

right size for her feet, and she wondered what they would feel

like while she was wearing them.



She quickly undressed, deciding that jeans and a T-shirt

was not the way to start her game, and put on nylons, a

knee-length skirt, and a white short-sleeved blouse. she sat on

her bed, leaning the crutches beside her, and put on the braces.

First, she lifted her right leg into her lap and placed the

plastic brace against it. It was like a perfect fit! She

tightly fastened the strap, which came up to just below her

knee, and then reached for her shoe. She decided to wear low

heeled shoes which laced tightly, to make sure her leg was

braced firmly. It felt very strange, not really like a cast,

which is what she half-expected. She quickly put the other

brace on, fastening her other shoe tightly, and stood up.



Her legs felt strange in the braces, awkward and even

clumsy. She tried to take a step without the crutches and

almost fell. She couldn't even wiggle her toes properly, which

she thought was very odd, because she always could in this pair

of shoes before. Her ankles were also totally immobile in the

stiff braces, which she enjoyed. She looked down and saw her

feet pointed toes-in, pigeoned toed, which looked very strange

to her. She reached and grabbed her crutches, putting her arms

through the cuffs, gripping the handgrips, and began crutching

around her apartment. It was fun, bieng on the crutches,

swinging her legs through the aluminum posts. She cooked dinner

on her crutches, cleaned the kitchen, all sorts of things, and

bieng on the crutches was very entertaining. At last, she sat

down to watch TV and took off her shoes and the braces, and was

shocked by what she saw!



Her feet were crooked, warped, she didn't know how to

explain or describe it, but she couldn't move them either. They

were both palsied, toes curled, ankles bent oddly. She tried to

stand and fell forward, her legs wouldn't support her right. She

put her braces back on and got to her feet by using the couch

and her crutches for support. As she was wondering what to do.

She was nervous and afraid, her legs didn't work anymore, her

feet were crippled, and she had no idea how or why. As she was

crutching to the kitchen again to fix herself a drink, the phone

rang.



"How are the crutches now, Cindy?" a strange voice asked.



"Who are you, what have you done to my legs??" Cindy asked

angrily.



"What you wanted, you need crutches now, don't you?" the

voice asked.



"I hate you, give me my legs back!" Cindy yelled into the

phone.



"That is easily done." the voice continued, calmly. "You

will remain crippled until you go to bed. Upon waking, all you

must do is stand, forsake the braces and crutches, stand and the

spell will be broken. But be warned, there are conseqe-"



"Thats all I needed to know, lady, later" blurted Cindy,

and crashed the receiver down. She crutched back into the

living room, releived that her condition was not permanant, and

raised her legs up onto the couch. She looked at her legs in

the braces. They didn't look so bad, just different. It was an

interesting experience, to be crippled like this, but she

definitely didn't want it to be permanant. She wathced TV for a

few hours then got ready for bed.



In bed, she first took off her shoes and braces, and her

palsied, crippled feet hung there. She hated it, and hurriedly

stripped off her stockings and skirt, then her blouse, and got

uder the covers, falling right to sleep.







Cindy woke with her alarm to see her legs and feet back to

normal. She jumped out of bed and practically ran to the

bathroom. She was fine, she could almost convince herself it

was all a bad dream, except for the braces and crutches now

laying on her bedroom floor. She kicked them under the bed and

showered and dressed, ready to face the day.




Two Weeks Later




"It's a rare neuromuscular disorder, Cindy. I'm afraid

it's not reversible, although I've never seen it attack a person

so quickly." Doctor Solomon said. I can't even recommend a

course of treatment, I'm afraid. The damage will be permanent,

and may even worsen, I'm afraid."



Cindy was in tears. She had come into the hospital four

days ago, complaining about numbness and soreness in her legs,

and here she was today, after a battery of tests... She looked

at her legs, her ankles turned in, her feet palsied. Her legs

weren't working at all, partially numb, totally useless. She

sat in a wheelchair, wondering if she would be confined to it

forever. What was it the voice on the phone had said about

consequences?



"Doctor" Cindy asked, "Honestly, will I ever walk again?"



"No, Cindy, you wont, at least not on your own." Dr.

Solomon replied. "I can have one of our orthopedic specialists

fit you for a set of legbraces, and you should be able to lead a

fairly normal, active life."



"As a cripple." Cindy wept. She wheeled herself back to

her hospital room and tried to get herself back into bed, but

without the use of her legs it was hopeless. With tears in her

eyes she rang the call button.



"Is everything OK Cindy" The nurse asked as she enterd the

room. Cindy was crying in her wheelchair, her legs hanging

awkwardly in her chair.



"My legs..." was all she could cry. The nurse lifted Cindy

into her bed, lifting her legs up for her and putting them under

the covers. The nurse held Cindy and rocked her, trying to

comfort this poor girl who had suddenly lost so much.



After three weeks the therapist decided it was hopeless.

Cindy's legs were bad and slowly getting worse, and even in the

full length legbraces she had it was just too difficult for her

to move around. They really hurt more than they helped,

especially with the extent of muscular damage to her lower legs

and ankles. Cindy was sitting in her new wheelchair, her legs

still encased in the braces she tried so hard to walk on, she

had wanted so badly to walk again, even on the braces, with

crutches or a walker, but now she was told it was hopeless, that

she, at 22 years old, she was a cripple, her legs useless,

confined totally to her wheelchair. She allowed herself to be

pushed back to her room, and her attendany lifted her into her

bed and began to remove her braces. She watched her legs as

they were unwrapped from their metal casings, so pale and thin

now, her feet looking so terrible, toes curled and ankles turned

in. She tried to move them, even wiggle her toes, but she

couldn't even do that anymore. Her legs just lay there,

crippled and lifeless. She looked at her wheelchair, now

realizing it was HER wheelchair, that her life now revolved

around it. She had always liked to be the girl on crutches, and

now she'd never be able to walk on crutches, or anything, ever

again. She lay down and cried herself to sleep once again.







Cindy had been in the wheelchair for several months. She

pulled into the handicapped spot in front of the mall and opened

the car door. She did her usual routine, pulling her wheelchair

from out of the back seat, setting it up, boosting herself into

it from the drivers' seat of her hand-controlled car. She

lifted one leg, then the other into the legrests of the

wheelchair. She still hadn't gotten used to her legs. The

disease had now robbed them of all muscle control, some feeling

too. As she lifted them, she watched her foot hang limp and

twisted by the disease which had put her in a wheelchair for the

rest of her life. She locked the car door and wheeled into the

mall.



Cindy was sitting in the food court when she noticed the

little girl walking by on crutches. The girl was on aluminum

forearm crutches, with AFO braces on her legs, her legs swinging

between the crutches, bringing Cindy memories of that day after

the yard sale. The little girl looked at Cindy, and for some

reason, Cindy felt some connection, but instead of smiling back

at the girl Cindy sneered, angry more at her condition than

anything else, and the girl noticed, turning away quickly and

obviously hurt. Cindy blew it off and wheeled her way into the

bookstore, picking out some reading material for later on.







It had been a year since the disease had confined Cindy to

a wheelchair when she noticed the discoloration on her foot. It

was a week later, after asking her doctor about it, that she

woke up, groggy and confused, from the anesthetic. She sat

halfway up and could see, under the sheets and bandages, where

her legs had been amputated midway between her knees and her

crotch. The disease had apparently caused a loss of circulation

in her legs, and they had to be amputated, to save her life.







Cindy pulled up into the handicapped parking space in front

of the mall and pulled her wheelchair out from the back seat,

setting it up and sliding into it, fixing her skirt around her

nylon-clad stumps. Of course, as she had suspected since they

amputated her legs, she couldn't use prosthetics because of the

muscular damage still in what was left of her legs, so she was

still wheelchair bound. Bieng legless was so strange to her,

but it was at least a little easier than dragging her legs

around with her, even though she now lost balance pretty easy.

Shoes were not a problem anymore, of course, and she always wore

skirts and knee-hi stockings, which to her were thigh-hi's so

she though she looked better now, at least a little. As she

wheeled into the mall, she noticed a little girl on crutches,

with AFO braces, who looked at her and smiled strangely. Cindy

smiled back, not sure why, and wheeled herself into the

bookstore to buy some reading material. She saw another girl in

the bookstore, also in a wheelchair, obviously paralyzed by the

look of her legs, ringing up a couple of books at the register.

The girl looked at Cindy, then glanced down at her stumps,

looking a bit sad.



"Should have listened to the phone call" She said crypticly.

Story - The Chair Part 1

The Chair By ParaGirl


Tara found the chair at a yard sale, of all places. It was

black, a lightweight little thing, and aside from all the dust

and the fact that it was missing the coverings on the hack

handles, and also had a flat tire, it was perfect. She almost

fainted when the old woman said 'take it', before Tara had even

asked. She wasn't going to hang around to wait for a change of

mind, she took the chair with sweaty palms and drove back to her

apartment.


It took her several days to clean it up and find the tire

and handles, but in less than a week Tara had an excellent

looking wheelchair, black and shiny. She had always been

fascinated by wheelchair users, especially females, and had

always wanted to experience being in one, to have no control of

her legs at all. It was irrational, she knew, but it fascinated

her anyway, which is why she took the chair. She was so

excited, she hadn't even sat in it yet, she'd decided to wait

for the perfect time, a day alone in her apartment, to really

get the feel for it. That day was tomorrow, Saturday, and when

she woke up in the morning, the chair would be by the side of

the bed, ready for her to get in. She got ready for bed and

parked her new toy within easy reach for the morning.


She awoke at eight feeling rested and excited. She peered

over and saw her wheelchair sitting there, awaiting it's

passenger. She threw the covers off and sat up, determined not

to rush into it, determined not to use her legs at all, to

really experience the helplessness of being paralyzed. She

reached over and pulled the chair right up to the edge of the

bed, then lifted one leg over the side with her hands, like she

had imagined doing so many times. She lifted her other leg over

and placed it near it's twin. With the wheelchair locked in

place, Tara gripped the far wheel with one hand and supported

herself with the other on the bed. With one rather clumsy

movement she slid herself into the seat of the chair. As soon

as she was seated, a feeling of dizziness came over her for an

instant, and was gone, so she almost didn't notice it. She used

her hands to put her legs into the legrests of the wheelchair

and then, still dressed in the long nightshirt and socks she had

slept in, wheeled herself into the kitchen to eat breakfast.


Being in the wheelchair was great! Rolling so easily

about, she did a lap around the apartment and into the bathroom

first to see herself in the mirror. There she was, young, only

25, and as far as she was concerned, very pretty. She saw

herself in the wheelchair, and realized her legs actually looked

kind of paralyzed, they looked thinner in the chair. It was

probably her imagination, she decided, from the excitement of

actually being in the chair. She wheeled out of the bathroom

and into the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal.


In the kitchen, she grabbed the milk from the fridge with

no problem, then took a bowl from the counter before realizing

that the cereal was in the top cabinet. Oh well, she thought,

so much for being paralyzed all day. She Decided that her bowl

of Count Chocula was a higher priority than her game and went to

get up to get the cereal box. As she went to get up she cried

out and fell out of the wheelchair onto the kitchen floor.


"What the-" she said, then realized why she fell. Her legs

hadn't done what she told them to! She looked to see her legs

folded behind her, one foot at kind of and odd angle still on

the wheelchair footrest. She realized it didn't hurt, and then

realized that she couldn't feel her foot. She couldn't feel

either of her feet! She couldn't move her legs at all, and from

her ankles down she couldn't feel them! Tara was frightened

and confused, she couldn't understand how or why this had

happened, but she had to do something, and laying on the floor

wasn't going to help at all.


Tara decided that she had to get back into her wheelchair

if she was going to get help or figure out what was going on.

She pushed herself up to sitting and dragged herself beside her

wheelchair, a chair which, by some strange twist of fate, she

now required to get around. She locked the brakes and started

to drag herself up into the chair. It was difficult, and she

almost tipped over twice before she got up to the seat and

turned to sit. She looked down and saw her legs twisted and

hanging limply off the side of the chair and couldn't believe

it! She was paralyzed, her legs refusing to work in any way.

She lifted her legs into the legrests with her hands and

suddenly realized that her legs were now numb almost to her

knees! She was losing feeling in her legs at an alarming rate!

How far would it go, how high would the paralysis take hold, and

why?


She wheeled herself to the phone, but who could she call?

A girl in a wheelchair saying she couldn't walk would sound

strange, but she had to do something. As she sat by the phone

it began to ring. She lifted the receiver to hear a strange

voice on the other end.


"You are now what you wanted to be Tara, isn't that right?"


"No-, yes-, I don't know, who are you, why is this

happening?!"


"You used the chair of your own free will, and with that

act have given up your legs, as you have wanted for so long."


"But I didn't know, I can't move my legs, can't feel them,

why is this happening? I want my legs back!"


"There is a way, Tara, but it will not be easy. You must

stay in the chair all day, your legs will not work for you today

at all. Live in the chair until you go to bed, then in the

morning when you awake, your legs will work again."


"That doesn't sound hard, that's all I have to do?"


"That is all, but you do not know all the facts. You have

to make a choice upon waking. If you get up and stand, the

spell is broken and you will walk again as if nothing had

happened. If you get into the chair again, you forfeit the

power of walking forever."


"I still don't see the difficulty in that, I'll simply

stand when I wake up, and that's that."


"But you don't understand, the spell of the chair is

twofold. If you wake up in the morning and stand, Tara, the

world will be as if nothing had happened. But if you get back

into the chair the spell will be complete. You will be

paralyzed, from the waist down, never to walk again, that is

true, but there is more. If you sit in that wheelchair, a girl

you don't know, a twelve year old girl in a town hundreds of

miles away who has been confined to a wheelchair since birth,

who has never taken a step in her life, will wake up healed,

able to run and skip and jump rope like any other girl. She

will get a new chance, a chance you had but decided you didn't

like. You've wanted to be handicapped for years, she never

did."


Tara was stunned. She hung up the phone and wheeled

herself into the bathroom to splash water on herself. She

looked in the mirror, still in the long nightshirt, sitting in

the shiny black wheelchair. Her legs were a little thinner, she

realized. By now she had lost feeling up to her thighs, and she

was realizing for the first time what it meant to be

handicapped. She felt a familiar tingle and realized she had to

pee. This was going to be interesting indeed. She wheeled up

to the toilet and sized up the challenge. It shouldn't be that

difficult, after all, just transferring from one chair into

another. She put one hand on the toilet and the other on the

wheel of the chair and clumsily slid over onto the seat. She

pulled her legs over and realized she still had her panties on,

and her long nightshirt was under her. This was going to be

trickier than she thought. She tugged at her nightshirt until

it was out from under her, but her panties were still on. She

tried tugging them down, but with no control of her lower body

she couldn't get them off without lifting herself. She put her

hands on the sides of the seat and boosted herself up an inch,

but then she didn't have a free hand to grab the underwear with.

She compromised and lifted herself on one side, sliding the

panties partially off with the other hand. She switched and did

the same to the other side, until she could slide them down her

now paralyzed legs. She just let them sit on the floor at her

feet. She realized she had bitten off alot more than she could

chew when she almost slipped into the bowl transferring back

into her chair! She wheeled back into the bedroom to figure out

how she was going to get dressed. She had already planned her

day's wardrobe for playing handicapped, now she would see how it

worked for real. First she lifted her left foot into her lap to

take her sock off. It was so strange seeing herself pull her

sock off a foot she could no longer feel or move. She dropped

her foot down, but it missed the footrest and thumped clumsily

to the floor. Tara winced but realized she couldn't feel it

even if it did hurt. She pulled her other sock off and tugged

off her nightshirt, leaving her naked in her wheelchair. She

felt helpless and vulnerable, scared at the predicament she

found herself in. She was paralyzed, handicapped, her legs

useless and lifeless. She knew that it was only temporary, all

she had to do was stand up tomorrow morning and never look at

the wheelchair again. But at what cost? Her mind wandered to

that little girl, sitting in a small, child sized wheelchair,

probably dressed in some little pink chiffon dress and pigtails.

She could heal this girl, give her a full, happy life. It was

her choice alone, all she had to do was stay trapped in this

wheelchair for the rest of her life. Yeah, tough choice.


She put on her bra, easy enough, and her blouse, there was

no problem there, but then she got to the tricky part. She

pulled a pair of panties from her drawer and stared first at the

panties then at her legs. She bent down with the panties and

pulled them over her feet, up to her knees. She got them as far

as where her thighs met her wheelchair's seat, then redid her

act in the bathroom, lifting herself one side at a time, pulling

the panties on. It was very difficult work, and she had no idea

how she was going to pull her skirt on when an Idea occurred to

her. She grabbed her skirt, a knee length cotton one she was

very fond of, and wheeled over to the bed. She put the skirt on

the bed, then locked the wheels of her chair. She transferred

out of her chair onto the bed, then pulled her legs up with her.

It was so strange, pulling the dead weight of her legs up, they

were totally numb and lifeless now, truly paralyzed. She laid

her legs out in front of her, then bending over put the skirt

over her feet, sliding it up her legs slowly. She laid down and

pulled the skirt all the way up, then tucked the blouse in as

well as she could. She zipped the skirt and sat back up.

Dressing complete, because she had already decided that shoes

and socks would be a waste anyway, she transferred back into

her wheelchair. She wheeled back into the kitchen to have some

breakfast, feeling she had finally calmed down enough to eat.

The bowl and milk were still out, but the cereal was still in

the top cupboard. She decided to have some toast and jam, and

pulled the jam from the lower cupboard. She'd have to remember

to have someone put all of the things in the upper cabinets into

the lower ones if she decided to stay like this. She couldn't

believe she was actually thinking about staying handicapped, but

the thoughts of that little girl haunted her, seeing little legs

playing hopscotch, jumping rope for the first time. She reached

for the bread, putting it in her lap and pulling out two slices,

then realized that from her wheelchair she couldn't reach the

toaster. She stretched and strained, but without the use of her

legs she couldn't reach it. She moaned and was about to give up

when an idea occurred to her. She was handicapped now, but why

should that stop her from doing anything, especially having

toast and jam! She went into her utensil drawer and pulled out

a long wooden spoon. With that she pulled the toaster to the

edge of the counter and put the toast in. She was thrilled at

her small accomplishment, and pulled one of the chairs away from

the table to make a place for herself. She buttered the toast

when it was done and spread the jam on it, really enjoying her

breakfast, because she actually had to work to make it. She

realized how different life was for her now, handicapped,

everything she would have to learn over again if she stayed like

this. She looked at herself, her crippled legs, her wheelchair,

trying to decide if she really wanted to stay this way, trying

to figure out what to tell her family, her friends, her

co-workers on Monday. 'Oh, yes, had a pretty good weekend

except for this paralysis thing.'


She finished her breakfast and decided to try doing some

chores. She grabbed her laundry basket and put it in her lap,

wheeling along and putting her dirty clothes into it. When it

was almost full she picked up her detergent and put that in the

basket as well. The laundry room was down the hall, so she had

to leave the apartment, something she was a little worried

about, but she did it anyway. Wheeling down the hall, she

almost dumped the whole basket over, but caught it in time, only

dropping a sock. When she got into the laundry room, a woman

Tara didn't know was just taking her clothes out of one of the

dryers. She looked at Tara and said hi in a friendly way, which

Tara returned. Tara opened the top-loader washer with a little

difficulty and put her clothes and detergent in, then shut the

lid and almost cried when she realized she couldn't reach the

washer controls from her wheelchair.


"You look like you could use some help there." the woman

taking her clothes out of the dryer said.


"Could you? I can't reach the controls." Tara almost

cried.


"I noticed. It's OK, what setting?"


"Permanent press."


"There you go. And for the dryer, use the one on the end,

it has front controls on it, should be easier for you. If you

don't mind me saying so, it must be so hard to get around here

in your wheelchair. So many stairs and narrow doors. Someone

should do something about it is what I think."


"Yes, you may be right about that." Tara replied. She put

her basket back onto her lap and wheeled back to her apartment,

realizing for the first time how narrow the doors were, seeing

the single step to the front door, a simple thing, but a massive

obstacle to her in her new condition. How could she ever live

as a cripple? She spent the rest of the afternoon trying to

clean her apartment. Her next big suprise came when she tried

to get the clothes out of the washer. They were easy to get in,

she just dropped them in, but she had to reach down into the

washer the get them out, something she didn't think she could

manage from her wheelchair, and this time no nice woman to help

her. Then she figured it out. The washers were about two feet

apart, maybe a little less, and at her wheelchair level, the

tops were shoulder height. She grabbed one washer with each

hand and boosted up onto the washer her clothes weren't in,

sitting on it. She was still amazed at how her legs just hung

there. She pulled her clothes out of the washer and tossed them

into the basket on the floor. She dropped back down into her

chair clumsily, having to rearrange her legs when she was

seated. She put her clothes in the end drier, as her newfound

friend had suggested, and started the drier, when she heard her

new friends voice again.


"I'm Barbara, by the way." Barbara was behind her, and

Tara had to wheel around to talk to her.


"Tara. I never thanked you for the help earlier, thanks."


"No problem. I was actually wondering how you were going

to get your clothes out, but it seems you managed fine."


"Yes, I manage where I need to." she said with false

modesty, inside brimming with pride and accomplishment.


"Well, if you need any help with anything Tara, I'm in

apartment 235."


"On the second floor, of course."


"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't even think Tara. Here's my

number, if you need me, call."


Tara laughed at how embarrassed Barbara looked and said

she's call if she needed it, wheeling back to her apartment.


Tara spent most of the rest of the day on the couch

watching TV. The couch was strange, she sat in it for a while,

but sitting in her familiar couch not being able to feel her

lower body at all drove her crazy, so she pulled her legs up

onto the couch and laid there, every once in a while looking

down at her useless legs. If she wasn't looking at them, it was

as if they weren't even there. Finally she got tired enough and

transferred back into her chair to get ready for bed.


She took off her shirt and bra, putting another nightshirt

on, then transferred into bed to remove her skirt. When she got

her skirt off she realized she again had to use the bathroom, so

she transferred back into her chair and wheeled to the toilet.

After her now familiar (this WAS her fourth time today) routine,

she was getting back into her chair when she slipped, falling to

the floor and knocking her wheelchair over. She was so tired of

this! To go through such and ordeal just to go to the

bathroom!! She put her wheelchair back upright and pulled

herself back into it, wheeling herself angrily back into her

bedroom and transferring into bed, pushing the cursed wheelchair

across the room for good measure. Tara had made her decision.


Barbara knocked on the door to see Tara in a way she didn't

expect at all. She was wearing a gray business suit and skirt,

dark, professional looking stockings and conservative flats, and

she was carrying a leather briefcase in her lap, seated in her

wheelchair with her legs crossed, all in all looking very

professional.


"I called because I'd like a ride over to the management

office of this complex. I have a few requests I'd like to make

to them."


"Of course, I'd be happy to help Tara."


Barbara followed Tara as she wheeled to the front door,

then helped her down the single step. She watched as Tara

transferred into her car, then put her wheelchair in the back

seat for her. In a minute they were off to the management

office, Tara with a list of handicapped-acessable requirements

for hers and other buildings. It was the first steps she would

take to make her new life as a handicapped woman something more

than her able-bodied life had been. And thinking back to just

hours before, waking up and feeling her legs, having them back

again, and then dropping out of bed onto the floor, careful not

to stand or use her legs to her advantage, crawling across the

room to her wheelchair, climbing into it and all of a sudden

feeling the numbness climb up her legs, much quicker this time

than yesterday, until in only minutes she was again paralyzed

completely, handicapped, crippled for life this time, and this

time by her own choosing. She just hoped it was worth it, she

really did.





"Mommy mommy!" was the first thing Lisa Morrison heard

that morning, getting up to go help Laura into her wheelchair,

or get her water, or whatever it was she needed. Lisa had cared

for Laura since birth, and sometimes it was just too much,

sometimes she wondered why her little girl had to be born

crippled. She almost fainted when she was greeted in the

hallway not by a request from Laura, but her daughter herself,

running towards her, on her own two legs! She picked up her

little daughter and squeezed her and cried 'A miracle, A

miracle!"




Cindy found the aluminum forearm crutches and AFO braces at

a yard sale, of all places. She was running a finger down the

smooth aluminum when the old woman running the sale said to her,

'Go ahead, take them.' She left with the crutches and braces

under her arm, and she couldn't wait to get to her house and try

them out.




The End?

NEW Story - A New Arrangement

A New Arrangement

Michelle was unhappy. She thought being married would be great, she thought that it would be like her dream come true - a strong, handsome mad to take care of her and provide for her. And it was close, she had to admit. She had a strong, handsome man, Derek, with a good job. They had a nice house in the suburbs. They had a nice life, Michelle had to admit. So what was the problem? Why was she unhappy?

Michelle hated working. They needed to money, though - this was 2009, not 1959, and it was very difficult getting by with just one salary, a fact Derek made very clear to her when she said she wanted to quit her job. So she kept working at her dead-end retail job, working as few hours as she could and secretly resenting even that. It started to get in the way of their marriage eventually, and she couldn't really discuss it with Derek, because what was she going to say? 'I don't want to work becaus eI'm lazy, please take care of me.'? She didn't think that would go over well. So she bit her lip and kept working, still slowly shortening her available work hours, until she hit the twenty hour mark. Derek noticed after a couple weeks of seeign her noticably diminished paycheck. They had another 'discussion'.

"So you don't want to work, what DO you want to do?" Derek asked, agitated. "What do you want out of this relationship?"

"I just want to be taken care of." Michelle said, eyes already teary. She hated conflict, and she had to admit, she brought this one on herself.

"Taken care of, that's all? You just want me to take care of you, provide for you?" Derek asked, not raising his voice. Michelle nodded. "and how far would you be willing to go with that?" he asked. "If you wanted to stay home and just have me take care of you, what would you be willing to do?"

"Anything!" Michelle quickly said. "I'd do anything, anythign you want me to if it means I don't have to work any more."

Derek nodded. "OK, we'll try an experiment, to see if you really mean that. Make sure you have the weekend off, including all day Friday. I'll explain everything Friday morning."

Michelle could barely sleep Thursday night, as Derek wouldn't even give her a hint about what was going to happen. As she awoke Friday morning, she could hear Derek in the kitchen, and there was a note on the pillow that said 'Don't move, just call for me.' Michelle did as the note instructed and Derek came in smiling.

"Good morning my dear. Please lay still, we're going to play a little game this weekend. You want to be taken care of, and I've got a bit of an 'interest' in taking special care of you."

derek first took out a hard cervical neck brace and began slowly, carefulyl putting on Michelle's slender neck. "For this weekend, since you said you'd do 'anything', I want you to roleplay having recently broken your neck, leaving you unable to use yoru body from your shoulders down. It is in this state that I will take care of you. Do you understand?"

It took Michelle a minute to process the information. "So, you want me to be handicapped?" she asked, curious but not frightened.

"Yes - you wanted to be 'taken care of' - I have always had an 'interest' shall we say, in caring for a disabled woman. I'd like to see how this works out for the weekend, and then we can discuss the situation - and you quitting your job - after the excercise is complete. Do you agree?"

"Yes." Michelle said. "I'll do my best. I can't promise I won't try to do things on my own though, out of habit."

"Don't you worry about that dear. I'll take care of it." Derek said. Sitting on the bed, he tookout elastic bandages. He first lifted Michelle's left hand and then had her make a fist, then began wrapping the bandage around it firmly, but not so tight to restrict blood flow. He then put a soft white sock over the hand and layed it back on the bed. He did the onter hand the same - carefully, even tenderly, until both Michelle's hands were completely useless. Then Derek moved down the bed, to her feet, and started doing somethign smiliar - bandaging and bracing Michelle's feet so they were immobile and flexed in a position makign it impossible for her to stand or walk. Again he put similar white socks on her feet.

"OK so far?" he asked her. she tried to nod but then realized that in the collar she couldn't. "Yes dear, I'm fine." she said, and she meant it. It was an unusual sensation, to be sure, but not at all a negative one. Derek then pulled out something Michelle wasn't expecting, and she didn't know how she felt about it."

"Is that a diaper?" she asked. Derek said yes, so she didn't have any accidents, and then spread her legs wide. He wiped her sex with moist wipes and then quickly put the bulky padded diaper on her. It didn't feel too bad, she had to admit. Not uncomfortable anyway. She was realyl feeling curious and maybe even a little horny.

Derek sat her up in bed and dressed her in a simple sundress, then propped her up on pillows. She was comfortable, she had to admit, and she certainly wouldn't be able to get around like this, but what was she supposed to do, sit in bed all weekend? She wasn't sure she was up to that.

As if derek knew what she was thinking, he said "Now wait right here, I've got something for you." and left the room. Michelle sat there, wearing a diaper and a neck brace and 'crippled', and was wondering if this was really all worth it? What was Derek up to anyway?

He returned with a wheelchair - an electric type with a nice padded seat. He didn't even say anything, he just lifted her gently and maneuvered her into the wheelchair. He strapped her legs into the legrests with a padded strap, then fastened another similar strap just under her breasts. Finally he put her right hand in her lap and set her left hand into a 'U' shaped joystick on the armrest. Then for added measure, he belted her arm to the armrest with a soft strap right at the elbow, giving Michelle almost no movement for that arm.

"There. This is you for the weekend. You were in a bad accident, you have almost no use of your body from your neck down. You can drive your wheelchair with your left hand, but that's about it. Everything else, every need, even feeding or toilet, you will need my help and care. Is that understood?"

"Yes dear, I understand." From her current point of view, Michelle could see the obvious bulge in her husbands pants. "I would like your help with something then" she said with a smile "Because I'm helpless to do this any more."

"What's that love?" Derek asked.

"Take off yoru pants and let me kiss that hard cock I see trying to get out." she smiled. I can't use much below my neck, but everything ABOVE my neck is still functional.

Derek undressed and stood before Michelle, a few feet away. "Now what am I going to do with you way over there?" Michelle asked. "You're going to tease your poor crippled wife?"

"I bought you that fancy wheelchair, let's see if you can get over here to me." he said with a grin. "Just because you're a quadriplegic doesn't mean you can get out of your wifely duties." he smiled.

Michelle looked down at the 'hand' in the control stick of her wheelchair. She pushed sideways and the chair spun to the left. The was startled and giggled a little. Next, with a bit of effort she pushed forward, and the wheelchair moved forward smoothly. It took her a few minutes to get the hang of it, but she soon pulled up next to Derek and adjusted her chair so that she was just about in front of his cock, which was even more erect, but she had a problem...

"Derek - I can't turn my head." she said. Indeed, she was facing straight ahead and with the position of the wheelchair, was unable to reach his penis with any part of her. "I think I'll need help."

Derek smiled and - was there just a hint of animal lust in his gaze? He moved to the front of the wheelchair, and repositioned it and himself so that Michelle could reach his cock with minimal head movement in her neck brace. She reached and licked and kissed it and played with it, all using her mouth and lips. He finally assisted her and she was able to take his cock in all the way, sucking him off from her wheelchair until he came and shot hot loads of cum down her throat. He moaned with pleasure and she smiled as she finished him off.

"Mmm, that was so hot honey." Derek said, straightning himself after the encounter.

"I'm glad you liked it. I would have loved to reach up and play with your balls, but..." she said, playing the 'crippled wife' role as requested, and beginning to get into it. "Could I have a drink love?"

Derek headed for the kitchen and Michelle pressed her hand control forward, driving her wheelchair clumsily to meet him in the dining room. He sat and held a straw to her lips and she drank the class of juice without any use of her hands or arms. It was a difficult thing to remember, not moving anything below her neck, but Derek was enjoying it, and Michelle figured she could possibly get some pampering while they were playing.

"So breakfast?" she asked as he put down the juice glass.

"Definitely!" Derek smiled, and pished Michelle into the kitchen to watch him. He made waffles and sausage and coffee, and when he had a nice big plate ready he sat down where Michelle was parked at the table.

"So, how are you feeling so far?" Derek asked, stroking Michelle's head

"Happy, actually." Michelle said honestly. "this is actually kind of exciting. so are you going to feed me now?" she asked, smiling. Derek nodded and fed her a slice of waffle, then a sip of coffee.

They took an hour to eat breakfast, chatting and smiling and laughing. It was a strangely satifying reconnection for both of them as Michelle sat there in her wheelchair, pretending to be crippled. She never tried using her hands, she just sat there and let Derek feed her and stroke her hair and cheeks. Finally, after Derek leaned in and kissed her passionately, making her feel warm all the way from her head to her toes, Michelle felt she needed to use the bathroom.

"I've got to pee, love." she said, moving her hand on the wheelchair controls to back away from the table.

"No you dont." he said, getting up and beginning to clear the table. Michelle looked at him.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I do, love." she said teasingly. "I know when I need to pee." she said.

"that's my point. Before your accident you knew when you needed to pee, sure... now, though." He looked at her to emphasis his meaning.

"Really?" she said, looking at him. He nodded. "I'll change you when I'm done in the kitchen, promise."

Michelle tried to wait, but couldn't really hold it any longer. If that's what he wanted, then... She urinated into her diaper, the feeling warm and satisfying after holding it for longer than she intended. she sat there then, in her wheelchair, with a wet diaper, and wondered if it was realyl worth it...

Derek took her to the bedroom as promised and undid her straps, releasing her from the wheelchair and laying her on the bed. again, she tired not moving at all, but it was hard. Derek pulled up her dress and removed her soiled diaper, and as he wiped her sex clean, she moaned out loud. He didnt' say a word, just kept rubbing her, and soon they were making love, deeply and passionately. She gave up on trying to say paralyzed, but her bandaged hands made it difficult to touch and caress Derek. He seemed to like her feeble attempts, though, and soon both were crying out in one of the deepest, most powerful orgasms they had ever shared. Both collapsed on the bed, and it was a while before Derek moved. He stroked her breasts and then cleaned her as she lay there motionless, putting a new diaper on her and then kissing her sweetly before putting her back in her wheelchair. Michelle was seeign a whole new side of Derek, more caring and tender than she realized he could be.

That day was more fun and wonderful than Michelle thought it would be. They stayed home, of course, but Derek was more loving and attentive than she had ever seen him. He fed her, cleaned her, brushed her hair, turned on the TV for her, and all she had to do was sit there and pretend to be a cripple, sometimes making a comment about how much different things were compared to 'before the accident'.

They watched a romantic comedy together on Pay Per View, something that Derek was never realyl willing to do before. But, as he told Michelle, he was much more open to her needs because of her 'condition'. This made Michelle very happy, and excited - she sat in her wheelchair, pretending to be the 'crippled wife', and she found she was literally getting everythign she wanted.

Another diaper change later in the day and Derek began stroking her sex again.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, lover" Michelle said. She could tell her bladder was full, and that kind of excitement was definitely going to make things happen. Derek understood immidately.

"You're paralyzed dear - that isn't something you have control over..." he said as he rolled her on top of an absorbent mat over the bed. She let him spread her legs, giving as little muscle response as she could, and he entered her.

It only took a couple minutes of his thrusting into her before she couldn't hold herself any more and urinated all over Derek. Instead of being disgusted, he thrust harder and came loudly as Michelle watched. It gace her a perverse thrill to watch it all happen, and she came as well, moaning with the pleasure of his hard throbbing cock within her.

Derek didn't say anything as he cleaned himself up, then her. He took off her sundress, which was a little soiled, and put on a nice floral print skirt and knit top that she liked. She didn't help at all, playing up the role play as much as she could, and she could tell Derek was really into it even more now. She had to admit, she was liking this more and more.

"So, honestly, this turns you on? Me just sitting here?" she asked once they were back in the living room. "Me crippled?"

"It's a little hard to explain. That's part of it, yes, but it's more the idea of you needing me to care for you, to care for your every need. That's where I'm really turned on, I feel physically, mentally, and sexually fulfilled when I care for you in this condition. I'm sure that sounds bizarre."

"No, it's kind of an extreme take on a maternal instinct, I think. But with a sexual fetish added in."

"Yeah, somethign like that." Derek said. "So, I appreciate you humoring me, you're doing a great job, but you can tell me - you're not into this, are you?"

Michelle looked at him. "I wasn't at first." she said honestly. "But, I have to admit - it's grown on me. I'll keep it up. You can ask me again tomorrow :)"

Derek fed her dinner, and afterwards they shared a glass of wine, Derek gently holding it up to Michelle's lips. She asked for his cock again, and he gladly obliged, positioning himself and helping her so that she could use her lips and tongue to make him cum. Finally, he bathed her - taking off the neck collar and her bandages, but telling her the roleplay was still in place. She acknowledged and did her best not to move at all as he put her in the tub, washed her hair, washed her whole body as she sat in the special shower chair. It was probably one of the most erotic experiences of their whole marriage, and Michelle was sad when Derek finally lifted her gently from the tub and set her in her wheelchair, on tops of some folded towels. He diapered her again and lay her in bed, and they both slept a deep and satisfying sleep.

"Derek, I'm awake" michelle called out into the empty room. There was no note, but she understood they were still roleplaying. She had to use the bathroom, but went in her diaper because she knew that was going to be the outcome anyway. It was strangely liberating and made her giggle. Derek came in with a smile and changed her, got her dressed.

"Do you think you need the bandages today?" Derek asked. "Or can you keep up the roleplay without them?"

"I'd like the neck brace and the hand bandages" she said honestly. "The legs will be fine I think - I wont' try to get up, I promise!"

Derek re-applied her crippling hand bandages and the neck brace, then put her back in her wheelchair and strapped her in as before. She sucked his cock again, an act she thoroughly enjoyed while disabled as she was. After they finished, he took her to the kitchen and fed her another wonderful breakfast. They taked and Derek read her the paper, and it was just such a wonderful re-connection Michelle was loving it. They watched TV, even played chess on the kitchen table in the afternoon - Derek moving Michelle's pieces for her, naturally. Afterwards, Michelle felt she needed to pee and tried to hint as much to Derek. He understood and took her to the bedroom.

Like the previous night, Michelle peed as Derek fucked her, and both came with forceful orgasms. Derek cleaned them both up, and Michelle wheeled herself into the living room as Derek finished dressing. They watched more TV, made small talk, and Derek played with Michelle's hair and nibbled on her ears. She moaned.

Derek took off his pants and Michelle saw his rock-hard cock once again ready for duty. This time, however, he turned Michelle's wheelchair and lifted her feet. She giggled as he masturbated with her soft feet, and she was thrilled and aroused to see him spurt hot cum all over her feet and toes with a moan.

"Derek, love..." she said. he looked up, flushed and smiling. "Yes. I'll play your crippled wife. These days have been so fun and wonderful, and I honestly find I like living this way." she beamed. "I hope I do a good job for you!"

"You do a wonderful job, my love!" Derek said. He was erect again, and kissed Michelle deeply. He pushed her wheelchair into the bedroom and undressed her completely, even taking off the bandages and collar. They made love again, passionately, erotically. Michelle could feel the passion and heat of every thrust of Derek's cock, and she was more wet than she had remembered being in ages.

They built up slowly, tow lovers not wanting to rush anything, until Michelle was panting and writhing and had begun to feel deep orgasms building. She started to cry out, her stomach and breasts hot with the building electricity of her orgasm, and Jim touched her face, making her smile. She could feel his fingers running through her hair, feel him getting closer and closer to climax. Her back began to arch, she cried out as the first waves of orgasms took hold, and then...

Derek twisted her neck sharply left and up. She heard the pop, she felt her body go limp, all feeling instantly extinguished, and she blacked out.

Michelle woke up disoriented and heard Derek's voice. It looked like she was in the basement - at the bottom of the stairs? She realized she couldn't move, couldn't feel anything from her shoulders down, and began to cry out. that's when she heard Derek more clearly.

"That's right, Wilshire Boulevard. She's fallen down the basement stairs, it looks like she's hurt her neck. Please hurry!" there was panic in his voice, but he looked at her with a calm detachment. Derek hung up the phone.

"You're awake, good. Well, we're both getting our wish, my dearest. No, don't try to talk. Your neck is broken. Likely the C5 vertebrae, if I did my job right. You're a quadriplegic now, just like we role played. Only now, it's for real. Don't panic - you'll be fine - well, except for the 'paralyzed from your chin down' thing - and I'll take such good care of you. You just have to stick to the story of falling down the stairs. Blink once if you understand."

Blink. Blink.

Derek sighed. "I was hoping to go into this later, at the hospital. Yes, this is my desire, fetish, whatever you want to call it. Yes, I will take care of you, care for your every need. And you, as a cripple, will take care of both our needs. You have an insurance poilicy on you, have had it for two years now. Pays a half million dollars if you are ever 'injured too gravely to contribute to the workforce'. So now we can both quit our jobs and live happily ever after." He kissed her. She had tears in her eyes. Tears of fear or tears of joy, Derek had no idea - but he would soon find out.

Story - The Dominatrix

The Dominatrix By ParaGirl
"Kiss my foot."
"Yes, Mistress Trisha." Ken knelt before the voluptous
redhead and lifted a smooth, limp foot from the wheelchair
footrest and kissed the nylon-covered toes. He looked up at
Mistress Trisha, sitting there, short leather skirt, skimpy
bustier which showed off her large, perfect breasts so well, and
the wheelchair she was confined to.
"Put my foot down now. Stand up and massage my shoulders."
"Yes, Mistress Trisha." Was all he could say. He gently
put her delicate, crippled foot back into the footrest and
stood, walking around her and began kneading her bare shoulders.
He felt her silken hair caress his hands as she rolled her
head, felt the muscles of her shoulders, strong from pushing
herself in the wheelchair for so long. she leaned far forward
in the wheelchair, almost grabbing her ankles.
"Lower, rub my back lower."
"Yes, Mistress Trisha." He immidiately began rubbing as
low as he could reach, and just as immidaitely heard the
reprimand he was hoping for.
"Not that low! I can't feel that, you know that I can't
feel anything that low! Rub higher right now, or else!"
"Yes Mistress Trisha, I'm sorry mistress." He began
rubbing the small of her back and higher as she leaned forward.
The silky feeling of the bustier was nice against his skin. She
was so beautiful to him, wheelchair or no wheechair.
"Take off my top." Mistress Trisha commanded, and Ken
unzipped the sleek garment. Mistress Trisha leaned back and
raised her arms as he slid it up and off of her. He stared at
her smooth, bare back, every inch perfect. He was shaking,
anticipating her next want, her next need, her next command.
"Kneel in front of me." She said. Ken knelt before her
again, this time sideways. He watched as she lifted one of her
sexy, crippled legs and set it on his back, using him as a
footrest. She did the same with the other leg, and he could
feel them on his naked back, so warm and soft, he felt the
nylons, smooth against him. He knelt there, still, looking at
her as she sat in her wheelchair, rubbing her legs, almost as if
she could feel them, or at least feel what it did to him. She
rubbed her breasts, caressing them. As he watched her, she
looked down at him, prostrate before her on the floor, totally
in her power, and she licked her index finger and began to rub
her nipple for him. He was breathing heavy, watching her,
seeing her erect nipples, her thin, limp legs in their dark
opaque stockings. He was in heaven.
"Now, get up. And don't you dare let my legs fall,
either." Mistress Trisha said to him. He moved slowly to a
more balanced position, so he could get his arms free. he could
feel the lifeless legs rolling and flopping on his back as he
moved. With a practiced motion, Ken rolled back and to the
side, reaching up with both arms, so that at the end of the
fluid movement he was kneeling on one knee with Mistress
Trishas' crippled legs cradled in his arms. For the first time
of the evening, Mistress Trisha smiled.
"Very good, slave, you show great promise. You have earned
yourself a reward. Put my legs back down, now."
Ken carefully, almost ritually placed her limp legs back
into the legrests, stealing a caress of her paralyzed calfs as
he did. She didn't seem to notice, but with Mistress Trisha,
you never knew.
"Take me into the bedroom now, slave" Mistress Trisha
commanded. Ken took hold of the handles on the wheelchair and
pushed Mistress Trisha into her bedroom. He saw the bed, king
sized, covered with luxurious satin sheets. Laying on the bed
was a leather outfit, and sitting on the floor was what appeard
to be boots of some sort.
"Put me on the bed." she said. Ken lifted her gently from
her wheelchair, exhilarated at the feel of her legs. He laid
her down on the sheets and stood there.
"Now, take off my skirt. Slowly, do it slowly slave."
Ken unzipped the short skirt and slowly, carefully slid it
down Mistress Trishas paralyzed legs. The look, the feel of her
handicapped legs, thin, weak, limp, totally useless, yet they
held him captivated, he would do anything for this paralyzed
girl. She lay there in black panties and stockings, her legs
looking a bit crooked, uneven in some way. Ken felt lightheaded.
"Now, the corset slave." Ken held the corset, it was black
leather, rigid ribs and laces, the cups for the breasts cut out
in large semi-circles. He helped her to sit up and wrapped the
corset around her tightly. He began lacing it up, staring at
her breasts, her beautiful legs. It was an amazing sight to be
sure! She sat there, the corset laced and tied off, her fresh
rosy breasts rolling out. She was again rubbing her legs for
him, and she lifted one of them up, her foot flopping over, toes
curled over just so.
"Now your special reward, slave." Mistress Trisha said
with glee. "Put me back into my wheelchair." Ken lifted her
again, placing her carefully into her wheelchair, placing her
legs just right in the legrests. He didn't know what to expect
next.
"Allright slave. The boots. Put them on me."
"Yes Mistress Trisha." Ken's hands were shaking as he
lifted the first boot. It was amazing, polished leather, a
severe stiletto heel, probably six inches. They apparently
laced up the back, and looked like they would go all the way up
to her crotch.
"This is especially for you, slave, so take your time,
savor dressing your mistress."
Ken lifted Mistress Trisha's leg and started to slide the
boot on. He ttok his time, feeling the softness of her leg, the
lack of muscle tone from bieng crippled for so long. The sleek
leather slid up over the stocking, up over her knee, almost all
the way to her crotch. Ken smoothed out the bottom of the boot,
making sure Mistress Trishas' delicate foot was inside and not
twisted, because she couldn't feel it if it was placed in the
boot wrong. He realized he had a bit of a problem when it came
to lacing up the boot, though. The laces were on the back of
the boot, and with Mistress Trisha sitting in her wheelchair, he
couldn't get to them properly.
"Don't worry about the laces for right now, slave, just put
the other boot on."
Ken eased her leg back into the legrest, it now looking
much different with the stiletto heel. He lifted the other leg
and eased the other boot on, smoothing it up and making sure her
foot was not hurt. He eased her other leg into it's legrest, so
now Mistress Trishas' paralyzed legs wer covered in sleek shiny
leather, the heels on the boots making her legs twist inward in
the wheelchair, a very sexy look for Ken.
"Allright now, slave, put me back on the bed."
Ken lifted her again and eased her down on her bed.
"Roll me over, onto my stomach now." Mistress Trisha said.
Ken rolled her over, starting at her shoulders and her waist,
watching her legs twist as she rolled, until they flopped over
lifelessly.
"Straighten them out for me, slave." Ken did as he was
told, moving Mistress Trishas' legs and straightening them,
feeling their weight as he moved them.
"Now, finish lacing the boots, slave."
"As you wish, Mistress Trisha." Ken replied. He gripped
the lace of the first boot, pulling it tight, tying it off
tightly. He did the same for the second boot, tightly lacing it
around Mistress Trishas' crippled leg.
"Now turn me over again, have a look" Mistress Trisha
commanded. Ken rolled her over again, straightening her legs
before her. She sat up, propping herself up on her elbows, her
hands caressing her breasts again, her long red hair cascading
down behind her, and her legs, her beautiful, paralyzed legs
wrapped in the sleek leather, toes turned in.
"Put me back in my wheelchair now, slave." Ken lifted her
again, easing her into her wheelchair."
"Cross my legs for me, slave."
"As you wish, Mistress Trisha." Ken lifted one paralyzed
leg and placed it over the other. Mistress Trisha wheeled
herself around the room, parading for him, her breasts and legs
more than even Ken could handle. Then she wheeled up in front
of him and grabbed hold of his crotch, looking up at him from
her chair.
"So what ARE you waiting for Ken? An engraved invitation?"
"Trisha, you can be such a tease somtimes! These little
games WILL be the death of me yet!"
"It's only because I love you, Kenny. Now help me into bed
before we both die of overexcitement!"
"As You wish, lover." Ken again helped her out of her
wheelchair and into their bed, unlacing the corset as he did...
The End
(For you, at least...)