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?