So I did some writing this weekend, but not as much as I had hoped. I spent the weekend in my wheelchair - Heather wanted to do a blindsimming trip to see Transformers, but I decided that was a very visual movie and went in my chair instead. She was fine with it and after the movie, agreed it was far better seeing it than just hearing it.
Other than that, we had a LOT of fun yesterday afternoon with some serious foot worship and our Hitachi wand, the single greatest sex toy known to womankind. Like I said - I didn't get a lot of writing done, ended up horny all weekend with only a few pages written. I'll get it done soon though...
Monday, June 29, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Blog - I'm on Twitter
So I've jumped on the Twitter bandwagon as @paracathy - I don't see a lot of devotee or wheelchair fetish presence yet, but it seems pretty interesting so far. Anyone want to follow me?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
NEW Story - The Broken Rule
The Broken Rule
First rule of being a caregiver is to never get emotionally involved. Not that you shouldn't care, of course - you have to care, you have to feel something for the people you work with. But emotional attachment, that's a different story. That's just bad karma, for so many reasons. Not just romantic involvement either. You can't become 'best friends' with your charge. Even if they're the coolest, most awesome person ever, that level of relationship never goes well. I knew this, had known it for years. Like I said, it was the first rule, the most important rule - and it took me almost ten years to break it.
My first charge was a great guy, elderly, had a serious stroke, hemiplegic. I worked with him for almost five years, and I started working with him two weeks before graduation, thanks to agency placement and an early look at my grades (all top marks). He passed away in his sleep, while another caregiver was with him. I got the message form the agency that morning, before I headed in to his apartment. I shed some tears - he was a very nice man, had a loving family - but I was back at work the next day. No big deal. No attachment.
My second charge was an old woman with ALS. We never connected, and I took care of her for three years, afternoon shift. Sat and made sure she could see her game shows, changed her diapers. Surfed the web thanks to a purse-sized Netbook and her neighbor's unsecured wi-fi. That was two years.
Rebecca was next, after a few short-lived hospice stints. She was a sad case, twelve years old, quadriplegic due to a seriously abusive father. Her mom was blind, too - same reason. Fucking sick bastard. There were more than a few nights I went home in tears from that one, I'll admit, and though I did become friends with Becky's mom and we still talked on the phone from time to time, I didn't feel that I had ever broken that golden rule. I stayed with Becky for a little over three years, until they had to move to Arizona for some health reasons. Becky had really blossomed, though, in the years I knew her, and was looking forward to high school and maybe even driving some day, with some specially adapted equipment.
Then came Meghan. I have to say, even though I took great pride in my work, I took it all very seriously, and I held that first rule pretty much sacred, I knew I was in trouble on my first day.
How do I describe Meghan? She was ten years my junior, she had just turned nineteen, and was taking a hear off before college. She was severely disabled, of course - that's why she needed a caregiver. She was born without arms - she had smooth shoulders the just ended. Rare birth defect, nobody saw it coming, but her family was able to cope with it. She was learning to use her legs and feet for arms and hands, standard rehab stuff, from a very early age, when the second half of God's 1-2 punch hit her.
Her neighbors were very 'global village' kinds of people and, when Meghan was only ten, they had an exchange student from India visit for half a school year. Meghan was very friendly and outgoing, of course, and became friends with the student, Priyesh, who was four or five years older than Meghan, but was very nice and very friendly as well. The pair hung out a number of times, went swimming together - had typical 'school friends' contact for a few months. Then Meghan started to feel sick. Then Meghan couldn't use her feet to pick things up any more. Then Meghan woke up unable to move her legs at all. Not even wiggle a toe.
It didn't take long for the doctors to narrow things down and diagnose Meghan with polio. Priyesh's paperwork turned out to have some 'inaccuracies' in it, and he was indeed carrying the polio virus. Meghan had contracted the disease, along with one other girl in Priyesh's class. It was quite the scandal, apparently, though I didn't remember anything in the papers about it.
That had been nine years previous and had permanently confined Meghan to a mouth-controlled wheelchair. It hadn't damped her spirit, however - in truth, it had probably caused her inner light to shine all the more brightly, because that's just how Meghan was.
When I met her, she was wearing a smart skirt, nude stockings on her wasted, polio-crippled legs, and a grey long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves hanging empty at her shoulders. She sat in a fancy power wheelchair, her mouth stick at the ready, and she smiled this glowing, beacon-like smile that took me off guard. I'd worked with dozens of critically ill and severely disabled clients over the years, and Meghan was the first, the absolute first, who did not show the slightest hint of the inner bitterness and negativity that comes with having a condition that required, well... me.
I introduced myself and got a rundown from Rob, the caregiver I was taking over for. He was getting married and moving to Nebraska or something, but you could tell there was a bond between he and Meghan that went somewhat beyond that of caregiver and patient. I mentally chastised Rob for breaking the first rule, but in my heart, after just meeting Meghan, I could almost understand.
I pushed that out of my mind. For a little while, anyway.
"So, am I your most pathetic case?" Meghan asked cheerfully after Rob had left and I started about my routine. The question caught me off guard, more for her characterizing herself as 'pathetic' than anything else.
"Actually, you're in second place." I said honestly, still trying to keep my professional distance while at the same time being friendly and approachable.
"Oooh, really? Tell me about it!" she asked, using her mouth control to turn in my direction, her face full of curiosity and excitement.
"Young girl." I said, stopping what I was doing. "Twelve when I met her. Her dad threw her against the wall for changing the channel on the TV. Broke her neck." I swallowed. Becky was still a hard one for me. "Her mom tried to call 911 to get her help. He tore the phone out of the wall, beat her in the face with it. Blinded her, both eyes."
"Jesus." Meghan said, eyes wide.
"I know. Sorry - probably shouldn't have gone into so much detail." I said, genuinely sorry for having said so much. Instead of horror, though, Meghan beamed. I looked at her. "Something funny?" I asked at the smile on her face.
"sorry, I feel terrible for the girl and her mom, naturally, but this is the first time I've come in second place. I feel almost normal! I need to facebook this!" And she took her mouth control between her lips and moved into another room as I stood there shocked.
And that, in a nutshell, was Meghan. She knew she was terribly crippled. Armless, no hope of prosthetic, polio-crippled legs that had basically stopped growing when she was ten. But she had a beauty about her that was almost supernatural. Her amber hair glowed, her face was gorgeous, her smile was electric. She didn't seem to have a negative bone in her crippled body, and even when she talked about her disability there was no bitterness, no self pity. She was just 'Meghan', and she was disabled in body, but never, ever in spirit.
Looking back now, I think knew that first day that the only outcome for me was to fall in love with Meghan. I didn't even know if she was gay, I wasn't even sure I was gay, but what I did know on that first day was that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That when we were together, it was like I was lying on a sunny beach, and when I left at the end of the day, it was like my life filled with clouds and rain.
Every day,I'd show up for work a little earlier. Every day, I'd spend an extra few minutes after my relief arrived. I'd help Meghan with her facebook, or just watch a little TV with her, or get takeout Chinese delivered, paying for it out of my own pocket, even though it was against her nutritional plan. Every day, my job became less about 'taking care of Meghan' and more about 'Making Meghan happy.' And then one day, maybe two months into the job, Meghan did it, she crossed the line, and I let her, and I never looked back.
"Elizabeth." she said in her beautiful, sing-song voice.
"Yes, dear?" I asked, having dropped the formality of 'Meghan' or 'Miss Jones' on my second day.
"I'm almost 20, you know." she said matter of factly. She was, it was true. Her birthday was only six or so weeks away. I had already thought about what I would get her.
"Yes - coming up soon. Any thoughts on what you'd like?"
Meghan looked at me with her deep, chocolate brown eyes, and as usual, I started to melt. Then she said it.
"I'd like to lose my virginity. With you." she said simply, but with such deep emotion that all I could do was to move to her wheelchair and hug her, feeling her armless shoulders, smelling her apple-blossom shampoo. And I kissed her.
I have always dreamed of a kiss like that kiss. Not a cliche, romance novel kiss that's all about love and kittens and brass horns. It was loving, it was passionate, it was heartfelt, yes. But more than that this was a kiss straight out of my deepest most erotic fantasy. My guts turned to warm pudding and my pussy felt like it was a waterfall. My knees buckled and I started kissing Meghan's legs, her thighs, and she begged me to do more. Pleaded with me. The lust in her voice was deeper and more sincere that I had ever heard.
I pushed her wheelchair to the bedroom and undressed in front of her. We said nothing. I kissed her, deeply, passionately, running my fingers through her hair. She moaned, she pressed her abbreviated body against mine from her wheelchair. I slipped her soft t-shirt off, she wasn't wearing a bra. I kissed her breasts sensually, I licked and nibbled her nipples, and she moaned.
I knew I would never feel her fingers running through my hair as I kissed her. I knew I would never feel her legs wrapped around me as I held her. I knew that, more than anyone I had ever been with, I wanted Meghan. With every fiber of my being, I wanted her. As crippled and as helpless as she was, I could not imagine living my life without her.
I kissed her armless shoulder, tracing sensual patterns across her smooth skin with my tongue, and she practically whimpered. I moved down her warm, soft body as she sat in her wheelchair, slowly pulling down her cotton skirt, revealing her diaper. The diaper that I had changed dozens of times, never admitting to myself what I wanted to do once I had it off. Now I tore it open just to touch that golden fur that glistened - Meghan was so aroused, it was like a heavy dew had fallen just for me.
Her legs were small, thin, limp from the polio that had crippled her. She couldn't move them at all, not even wiggle a toe; the polio had seen to that. But she could still feel them. Feel every touch, every caress. I slipped her soft socks off of her feet and began to kiss them, to suck on her small toes, like I had fantasized as I lay in bed at night dreaming of her hair, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. I kissed and licked her feet and she giggle, and then she moaned, and then she begged me to come closer, to move higher up her small, useless legs.
I wanted to tease her - I really did. I wanted her first sexual experience to be long, and sensual, and erotic, and drawn out. I wanted it to be perfect for her, for my perfect crippled angel. But she didn't want that. The need in her eyes, the deep desire in her voice drew me in, and I hadn't even taken her out of her wheelchair when my tongue pressed against the exquisite folds of her moist flower. It was like a lightning strike had hit both of us as I spread her withered legs and licked and sucked on her clit as I poked my tongue into her sweet virgin sex.
Meghan moaned and yelled and screamed as I ate her out, caressing and kissing and licking her pussy, her limp legs. It didn't take long before all that pent up sexual frustration finally broke, and she came, oh my darling Meghan came in waves of orgasm that made her weep, tears of joy and pleasure rolling down her cheeks. She had always tried to think of herself as 'normal', but sex, sensuality, that was something that always eluded her in her armless, crippled state. A fact that I was happy to change for her.
I lay her in bed without her even asking, and I kissed and held her as she smiled, as she thanked me, as she wept. And then I moved myself into a position that made it easy for her to access my dripping wet sex, and without a word she was at me. Her mouth was so talented, it caught me off guard, though it had been her only means of interacting with the world since she was ten - it shouldn't have surprised me as it did. Her tongue and lips made me write in pleasure and moan with delight, and as I caressed her smooth, armless shoulders, I came loudly, explosively, my juices glistening across her beaming face. She didn't want to stop, and I came another three times as she licked and kissed my sensitive clit, before finally collapsing beside her, wrapping my arms around her warm, panting frame.
I could feel her limp, soft legs pressed against my naked skin, I could feel the smooth armless shoulders rub against me. Meghan was helpless, unable to even scratch her nose or use the toilet on her own, but to me she was perfect, she was so beautiful, so sensual, and I told her that, whispered it in her ear as we lay there together. And I told her I loved her. She said nothing. She wept. I knew it wasn't with sadness.
I cleaned Meghan and dressed her and got myself cleaned up a half hour before my shift ended, and my replacement - a very nice older woman named Sarah - immediately knew something had changed. There was an energy, an atmosphere in the place that was so warm and almost electric. As I clocked out of my shift and looked into Meghan's beautiful, loving eyes, I died a little inside as I left for home. I knew I wouldn't be able to do that much longer - to leave her like that. I don't think either of us could handle it.
I showed up for work the next day an hour early carrying an overnight bag, and told Meghan I didn't intend to let her sleep alone again. She asked me to dress her, and instead of her signature long sleeved shirt I dressed her in a pink athletic fit tank top with no bra, exposing her deformity, accentuating her difference, and I loved it. And she saw the way I looked at her, with the love and attraction I felt for her, and she loved it too. It lifted her, it excited her. It made her happy, a happiness that she felt she might never experience in all her life. A happiness I too, knew I had been missing, until this beautiful, sensual, crippled girl came into my life.
We made love again that day, this time a slow, sensual, erotic thing that made us both cry out in passion and delight for hours. We went out to lunch at a local cafe, and Meghan relished the looks and stares of passers by as I fed her a sandwich and iced coffee and we talked and giggled together. Meghan then called the nursing agency and told them that her situation had changed, and that she no longer needed night time care. She looked at me with loving eyes. The situation had certainly changed. The whole world had changed. For both of us.
First rule of being a caregiver is to never get emotionally involved. Not that you shouldn't care, of course - you have to care, you have to feel something for the people you work with. But emotional attachment, that's a different story. That's just bad karma, for so many reasons. Not just romantic involvement either. You can't become 'best friends' with your charge. Even if they're the coolest, most awesome person ever, that level of relationship never goes well. I knew this, had known it for years. Like I said, it was the first rule, the most important rule - and it took me almost ten years to break it.
My first charge was a great guy, elderly, had a serious stroke, hemiplegic. I worked with him for almost five years, and I started working with him two weeks before graduation, thanks to agency placement and an early look at my grades (all top marks). He passed away in his sleep, while another caregiver was with him. I got the message form the agency that morning, before I headed in to his apartment. I shed some tears - he was a very nice man, had a loving family - but I was back at work the next day. No big deal. No attachment.
My second charge was an old woman with ALS. We never connected, and I took care of her for three years, afternoon shift. Sat and made sure she could see her game shows, changed her diapers. Surfed the web thanks to a purse-sized Netbook and her neighbor's unsecured wi-fi. That was two years.
Rebecca was next, after a few short-lived hospice stints. She was a sad case, twelve years old, quadriplegic due to a seriously abusive father. Her mom was blind, too - same reason. Fucking sick bastard. There were more than a few nights I went home in tears from that one, I'll admit, and though I did become friends with Becky's mom and we still talked on the phone from time to time, I didn't feel that I had ever broken that golden rule. I stayed with Becky for a little over three years, until they had to move to Arizona for some health reasons. Becky had really blossomed, though, in the years I knew her, and was looking forward to high school and maybe even driving some day, with some specially adapted equipment.
Then came Meghan. I have to say, even though I took great pride in my work, I took it all very seriously, and I held that first rule pretty much sacred, I knew I was in trouble on my first day.
How do I describe Meghan? She was ten years my junior, she had just turned nineteen, and was taking a hear off before college. She was severely disabled, of course - that's why she needed a caregiver. She was born without arms - she had smooth shoulders the just ended. Rare birth defect, nobody saw it coming, but her family was able to cope with it. She was learning to use her legs and feet for arms and hands, standard rehab stuff, from a very early age, when the second half of God's 1-2 punch hit her.
Her neighbors were very 'global village' kinds of people and, when Meghan was only ten, they had an exchange student from India visit for half a school year. Meghan was very friendly and outgoing, of course, and became friends with the student, Priyesh, who was four or five years older than Meghan, but was very nice and very friendly as well. The pair hung out a number of times, went swimming together - had typical 'school friends' contact for a few months. Then Meghan started to feel sick. Then Meghan couldn't use her feet to pick things up any more. Then Meghan woke up unable to move her legs at all. Not even wiggle a toe.
It didn't take long for the doctors to narrow things down and diagnose Meghan with polio. Priyesh's paperwork turned out to have some 'inaccuracies' in it, and he was indeed carrying the polio virus. Meghan had contracted the disease, along with one other girl in Priyesh's class. It was quite the scandal, apparently, though I didn't remember anything in the papers about it.
That had been nine years previous and had permanently confined Meghan to a mouth-controlled wheelchair. It hadn't damped her spirit, however - in truth, it had probably caused her inner light to shine all the more brightly, because that's just how Meghan was.
When I met her, she was wearing a smart skirt, nude stockings on her wasted, polio-crippled legs, and a grey long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves hanging empty at her shoulders. She sat in a fancy power wheelchair, her mouth stick at the ready, and she smiled this glowing, beacon-like smile that took me off guard. I'd worked with dozens of critically ill and severely disabled clients over the years, and Meghan was the first, the absolute first, who did not show the slightest hint of the inner bitterness and negativity that comes with having a condition that required, well... me.
I introduced myself and got a rundown from Rob, the caregiver I was taking over for. He was getting married and moving to Nebraska or something, but you could tell there was a bond between he and Meghan that went somewhat beyond that of caregiver and patient. I mentally chastised Rob for breaking the first rule, but in my heart, after just meeting Meghan, I could almost understand.
I pushed that out of my mind. For a little while, anyway.
"So, am I your most pathetic case?" Meghan asked cheerfully after Rob had left and I started about my routine. The question caught me off guard, more for her characterizing herself as 'pathetic' than anything else.
"Actually, you're in second place." I said honestly, still trying to keep my professional distance while at the same time being friendly and approachable.
"Oooh, really? Tell me about it!" she asked, using her mouth control to turn in my direction, her face full of curiosity and excitement.
"Young girl." I said, stopping what I was doing. "Twelve when I met her. Her dad threw her against the wall for changing the channel on the TV. Broke her neck." I swallowed. Becky was still a hard one for me. "Her mom tried to call 911 to get her help. He tore the phone out of the wall, beat her in the face with it. Blinded her, both eyes."
"Jesus." Meghan said, eyes wide.
"I know. Sorry - probably shouldn't have gone into so much detail." I said, genuinely sorry for having said so much. Instead of horror, though, Meghan beamed. I looked at her. "Something funny?" I asked at the smile on her face.
"sorry, I feel terrible for the girl and her mom, naturally, but this is the first time I've come in second place. I feel almost normal! I need to facebook this!" And she took her mouth control between her lips and moved into another room as I stood there shocked.
And that, in a nutshell, was Meghan. She knew she was terribly crippled. Armless, no hope of prosthetic, polio-crippled legs that had basically stopped growing when she was ten. But she had a beauty about her that was almost supernatural. Her amber hair glowed, her face was gorgeous, her smile was electric. She didn't seem to have a negative bone in her crippled body, and even when she talked about her disability there was no bitterness, no self pity. She was just 'Meghan', and she was disabled in body, but never, ever in spirit.
Looking back now, I think knew that first day that the only outcome for me was to fall in love with Meghan. I didn't even know if she was gay, I wasn't even sure I was gay, but what I did know on that first day was that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That when we were together, it was like I was lying on a sunny beach, and when I left at the end of the day, it was like my life filled with clouds and rain.
Every day,I'd show up for work a little earlier. Every day, I'd spend an extra few minutes after my relief arrived. I'd help Meghan with her facebook, or just watch a little TV with her, or get takeout Chinese delivered, paying for it out of my own pocket, even though it was against her nutritional plan. Every day, my job became less about 'taking care of Meghan' and more about 'Making Meghan happy.' And then one day, maybe two months into the job, Meghan did it, she crossed the line, and I let her, and I never looked back.
"Elizabeth." she said in her beautiful, sing-song voice.
"Yes, dear?" I asked, having dropped the formality of 'Meghan' or 'Miss Jones' on my second day.
"I'm almost 20, you know." she said matter of factly. She was, it was true. Her birthday was only six or so weeks away. I had already thought about what I would get her.
"Yes - coming up soon. Any thoughts on what you'd like?"
Meghan looked at me with her deep, chocolate brown eyes, and as usual, I started to melt. Then she said it.
"I'd like to lose my virginity. With you." she said simply, but with such deep emotion that all I could do was to move to her wheelchair and hug her, feeling her armless shoulders, smelling her apple-blossom shampoo. And I kissed her.
I have always dreamed of a kiss like that kiss. Not a cliche, romance novel kiss that's all about love and kittens and brass horns. It was loving, it was passionate, it was heartfelt, yes. But more than that this was a kiss straight out of my deepest most erotic fantasy. My guts turned to warm pudding and my pussy felt like it was a waterfall. My knees buckled and I started kissing Meghan's legs, her thighs, and she begged me to do more. Pleaded with me. The lust in her voice was deeper and more sincere that I had ever heard.
I pushed her wheelchair to the bedroom and undressed in front of her. We said nothing. I kissed her, deeply, passionately, running my fingers through her hair. She moaned, she pressed her abbreviated body against mine from her wheelchair. I slipped her soft t-shirt off, she wasn't wearing a bra. I kissed her breasts sensually, I licked and nibbled her nipples, and she moaned.
I knew I would never feel her fingers running through my hair as I kissed her. I knew I would never feel her legs wrapped around me as I held her. I knew that, more than anyone I had ever been with, I wanted Meghan. With every fiber of my being, I wanted her. As crippled and as helpless as she was, I could not imagine living my life without her.
I kissed her armless shoulder, tracing sensual patterns across her smooth skin with my tongue, and she practically whimpered. I moved down her warm, soft body as she sat in her wheelchair, slowly pulling down her cotton skirt, revealing her diaper. The diaper that I had changed dozens of times, never admitting to myself what I wanted to do once I had it off. Now I tore it open just to touch that golden fur that glistened - Meghan was so aroused, it was like a heavy dew had fallen just for me.
Her legs were small, thin, limp from the polio that had crippled her. She couldn't move them at all, not even wiggle a toe; the polio had seen to that. But she could still feel them. Feel every touch, every caress. I slipped her soft socks off of her feet and began to kiss them, to suck on her small toes, like I had fantasized as I lay in bed at night dreaming of her hair, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. I kissed and licked her feet and she giggle, and then she moaned, and then she begged me to come closer, to move higher up her small, useless legs.
I wanted to tease her - I really did. I wanted her first sexual experience to be long, and sensual, and erotic, and drawn out. I wanted it to be perfect for her, for my perfect crippled angel. But she didn't want that. The need in her eyes, the deep desire in her voice drew me in, and I hadn't even taken her out of her wheelchair when my tongue pressed against the exquisite folds of her moist flower. It was like a lightning strike had hit both of us as I spread her withered legs and licked and sucked on her clit as I poked my tongue into her sweet virgin sex.
Meghan moaned and yelled and screamed as I ate her out, caressing and kissing and licking her pussy, her limp legs. It didn't take long before all that pent up sexual frustration finally broke, and she came, oh my darling Meghan came in waves of orgasm that made her weep, tears of joy and pleasure rolling down her cheeks. She had always tried to think of herself as 'normal', but sex, sensuality, that was something that always eluded her in her armless, crippled state. A fact that I was happy to change for her.
I lay her in bed without her even asking, and I kissed and held her as she smiled, as she thanked me, as she wept. And then I moved myself into a position that made it easy for her to access my dripping wet sex, and without a word she was at me. Her mouth was so talented, it caught me off guard, though it had been her only means of interacting with the world since she was ten - it shouldn't have surprised me as it did. Her tongue and lips made me write in pleasure and moan with delight, and as I caressed her smooth, armless shoulders, I came loudly, explosively, my juices glistening across her beaming face. She didn't want to stop, and I came another three times as she licked and kissed my sensitive clit, before finally collapsing beside her, wrapping my arms around her warm, panting frame.
I could feel her limp, soft legs pressed against my naked skin, I could feel the smooth armless shoulders rub against me. Meghan was helpless, unable to even scratch her nose or use the toilet on her own, but to me she was perfect, she was so beautiful, so sensual, and I told her that, whispered it in her ear as we lay there together. And I told her I loved her. She said nothing. She wept. I knew it wasn't with sadness.
I cleaned Meghan and dressed her and got myself cleaned up a half hour before my shift ended, and my replacement - a very nice older woman named Sarah - immediately knew something had changed. There was an energy, an atmosphere in the place that was so warm and almost electric. As I clocked out of my shift and looked into Meghan's beautiful, loving eyes, I died a little inside as I left for home. I knew I wouldn't be able to do that much longer - to leave her like that. I don't think either of us could handle it.
I showed up for work the next day an hour early carrying an overnight bag, and told Meghan I didn't intend to let her sleep alone again. She asked me to dress her, and instead of her signature long sleeved shirt I dressed her in a pink athletic fit tank top with no bra, exposing her deformity, accentuating her difference, and I loved it. And she saw the way I looked at her, with the love and attraction I felt for her, and she loved it too. It lifted her, it excited her. It made her happy, a happiness that she felt she might never experience in all her life. A happiness I too, knew I had been missing, until this beautiful, sensual, crippled girl came into my life.
We made love again that day, this time a slow, sensual, erotic thing that made us both cry out in passion and delight for hours. We went out to lunch at a local cafe, and Meghan relished the looks and stares of passers by as I fed her a sandwich and iced coffee and we talked and giggled together. Meghan then called the nursing agency and told them that her situation had changed, and that she no longer needed night time care. She looked at me with loving eyes. The situation had certainly changed. The whole world had changed. For both of us.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Blog - I invented a word...
Just having a little fantasy play fun and I think I invented a word:
Quadgasm - When a quadriplegic female with no sensation below her neck is being sexually stimulated in some way and achieves, in some form, either mental or physical, the effect of sexual climax.
Yeah, still horny....
Quadgasm - When a quadriplegic female with no sensation below her neck is being sexually stimulated in some way and achieves, in some form, either mental or physical, the effect of sexual climax.
Yeah, still horny....
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Blog - Why am I always so horny?
OK, I have a really good sex life with Heather. We are intimate at least two to three times a week, and we both enjoy one another's fetishes - she is a hardcore foot fetishist, so me in a wheelchair is wonderful for her, and I love the pampering my 'poor, crippled' legs and feet get from her. It's really hot.
Heather has another fetish which I am supportive of - that's blindness. She really likes me playing like I'm blind, using a cane to get around. It didn't do much for me at first, but there is a level of trust and intimacy that I have with her when I'm blindsimming that just can't be reproduced by other means - especially in public. Being blind in public is scary and exciting and, with Heather taking care of me, very very erotic.
But I'm still not 'satisfied' I guess the term would be. I get into so many other sexual fantasies - playtime with online friends that include graphic cyber and masturbation, swapping pictures and videos. I even got into a video of a crossdresser who was pretending in a wheelchair and using a hook to masturbate. Normally I'm not at all into cock - I am a lesbian, no two ways about me. But seeing him masturbate using a hook prosthetic - well, it got me fantasizing about having hooks myself and playing with my own clit, or having a girlfriend who had hooks for hands and making love to her. I've had a lot of fantasies about the armless thing lately too - myself as armless or even Heather as an arm amputee.
So I guess what I'm saying is that, sure I'm satisfied with my relationship and my sex life, but there is another 'level' I take it to online that I know Heather isn't into and probably never will be. She's been willing to 'do stuff' a few times, to make me happy - being in a wheelchair or on crutches for me - but I could tell that deep down she wasn't really into it, so it lost something for me.
Heather isn't really aware that I've gotten back into the hardcore chats. she came home with me at the computer in my wheelchair and a very wet pussy a couple weeks ago, and she's 'amputated' my hands a few times, both as fun erotic play and to keep me from playing with myself while she's at work (I REALLY love that, by the way - bandaged hands unable to do much of anything. SO sexy!) but I really AM horny all the time. I'm online and available in Yahoo chat right now HOPING one of my friends like Carla or Alexis will show up so I can have some hardcore disability fetish Cyber with them before heading off to work in an hour. But nobody is on, so I'm typing a blog post and sharing WAY too much information.
sorry about that...
Heather has another fetish which I am supportive of - that's blindness. She really likes me playing like I'm blind, using a cane to get around. It didn't do much for me at first, but there is a level of trust and intimacy that I have with her when I'm blindsimming that just can't be reproduced by other means - especially in public. Being blind in public is scary and exciting and, with Heather taking care of me, very very erotic.
But I'm still not 'satisfied' I guess the term would be. I get into so many other sexual fantasies - playtime with online friends that include graphic cyber and masturbation, swapping pictures and videos. I even got into a video of a crossdresser who was pretending in a wheelchair and using a hook to masturbate. Normally I'm not at all into cock - I am a lesbian, no two ways about me. But seeing him masturbate using a hook prosthetic - well, it got me fantasizing about having hooks myself and playing with my own clit, or having a girlfriend who had hooks for hands and making love to her. I've had a lot of fantasies about the armless thing lately too - myself as armless or even Heather as an arm amputee.
So I guess what I'm saying is that, sure I'm satisfied with my relationship and my sex life, but there is another 'level' I take it to online that I know Heather isn't into and probably never will be. She's been willing to 'do stuff' a few times, to make me happy - being in a wheelchair or on crutches for me - but I could tell that deep down she wasn't really into it, so it lost something for me.
Heather isn't really aware that I've gotten back into the hardcore chats. she came home with me at the computer in my wheelchair and a very wet pussy a couple weeks ago, and she's 'amputated' my hands a few times, both as fun erotic play and to keep me from playing with myself while she's at work (I REALLY love that, by the way - bandaged hands unable to do much of anything. SO sexy!) but I really AM horny all the time. I'm online and available in Yahoo chat right now HOPING one of my friends like Carla or Alexis will show up so I can have some hardcore disability fetish Cyber with them before heading off to work in an hour. But nobody is on, so I'm typing a blog post and sharing WAY too much information.
sorry about that...
Monday, June 8, 2009
NEW Story - A New Arrangement Part 2
New Arrangement 2
Michelle felt dizzy as the chair lift lowered her onto the driveway of her new home. She was familiar with her condition - complete C4 quadriplegic, paralyzed from her neck down - but the movement of the chair lift was a new sensation she wasnt' used to yet, and the sensation made her a little dizzy. She was grateful to be back on the ground. She watched from her power wheelchair as Derek made the adjustments necessary, and she took the mouth control between her lips and manipulated it to move her wheelchair forward and to the left, towards the new house. HER new house, she reminded herself. Perfectly adapted to a woman in her 'condition' - a helpless cripple, to be blunt.
The official reason for her disability was a broken neck due to a slip and fall down the basement stairs. And indeed, she HAD woken up at the bottom of the basement stairs, but that was only after her husband, Derek, had snapped her neck as they made love. It was all part of his 'plan', that she unwittingly assisted with, to make a small fortune using an insurance payout after her 'accident'. What she hadn't realized was that there was another layer to the plan, one that Derek hadn't mentioned, which used some choice investments to turn their half million dollar insurance payout into a multi-million dollar nestegg. By the time Michelle was finished with two and a half months of rehab at a VERY good rehab center, Derek had sold their old house and bought a beautiful new one in a very nice area of the state, and had it completely converted for wheelchair living. Michelle had seen pictures, of course, and seen Dereks' excitement, but even sitting in front of the beautiful, spacious home, she couldn't see it as anything more than a prison. Much like her wheelchair had become. Much like her body had become.
She had experienced this before, of course. Before her 'accident' - before Derek had crippled her. Derek had a fetish for helpless women, wheelchair bound women, and caring for them. Michelle had just wanted to quit her dead-end job and be taken care of. Derek proposed a compromise, where Michelle would 'pretend' to be disabled and he would care for her. They did it for an entire weekend, and it was wonderful, truly delightful for her. She had never felt so loved, so cared for, and the sex was amazing, totally amazing between them. Their little 'roleplay' had completely re-invograted their marriage. And then Derek broke her neck.
It had been hard to keep quiet at first. She was hurt, she was scared, and she had so many things going through her head. But Derek promised to take good care of her. Promised to make it right. It was when the pretty doctor with the long red hair and deep crimson nails sat beside her and told her that she was paralyzed, that she was a quadriplegic, how sorry she was, how Michelle could talk to a grief counsellor... Michelle realized that she really WAS crippled for the rest of her life, and that if she DID turn in Derek, she'd have no-one. She'd be helpless. And then what could she do?
So she kept up the story until she almost believed it, and Derek did make things better. He moved her to the best rehab center in the area, very high end. She had her own room and her own personal therapist that worked with her every day, mostly helping her get used to a life with no feeling below her neck, then moving into the few tasks she could still do. She had extensive training in the very expensive power wheelchair Derek had bought her, the mouth controls, using a mouth stick, and just living as a complete quadriplegic.
Derek visited every day, of course, and when they were alone told her how beautiful she was, how excited he was to take her home, how he would care for her. He brushed her hair once, as she sat in her wheelchair, and she had to admit, it was the most erotic hair brushing she had ever experienced, but she was still afraid. She was handicapped now, she couldn't even scratch her own nose, and she knew all the money in the world couldn't change that. But what else could she do?
Michelle wheeled over the wide paved walkway towards the front door. It opened for her automatically as she approaced, and she was able to easily maneuver her wheelchair into the house. It was large, beautifully decorated, and not nearly as 'adapted looking' as she expected. There were clearly some aspects of the design specifically for her - the wide doorways and extra space between things to allow her to maneuver easily. the bathroom was the most 'adapted', with a special shower and other modifications specific to her condition.
"How do you feel love? Do you like the place?" Michelle realized it was the first time Derek had spoken since they left the rehab center.
"I don't feel anything now, do I love?" she said, looking into his eyes. She could see his passion smolder behind those eyes. Could see his desire for her, deeper than she had ever seen it. Did she feel the same? Could she? It had been almost three months since they had made love, and the last time they made love he broke her neck. But she WANTED to feel it. Michelle WANTED to be the wife that Derek so deeply desired. She looked at him with a mixture of longing and sadness. "I want you." was all she said.
Derek didn't even bring her into the bedroom. They were in a spacious parlor, and Derek undressed and took her limp, curled hands out of her lap and began caressing himself with them. Michelle urged him on, telling him to do things with her body that she no longer could. He used her hands all over his body until she told him to use her feet, then he sat and lifted her dead legs. He took off the soft slippers she wore, then the tight white compression stockings, and she watched him using her floppy, limp feet, using them to play with his balls and shaft.
He was breathing heavy now, Michelle could tell he was close to orgasm. "I want you in my mouth." she said, her own authority surprising her. Derek complied, bringing himself up and allowing her to get his cock in her mouth. She used her lips and her tongue like she was driving her wheelchair, sucking him deeply. She wished she could play with his balls, but her hands just sat in her lap useless. She couldn't even shrug her shoulders. In the end, it didnt' matter. Derek came long and hard and shot his hot cum into her mouth. She lapped it up and didn't want to let go of his cock, still sucking and licking until he pulled gently away from her and collapsed onto the couch. Michelle looked at him and wanted more.
"You're going to have to give me a little time, love." he said breathlessly. "That was the most amzing head I've ever had - you're amazing."
"God Derek, I wasn't sure I could even GET aroused any more, after the accident..." she looked at him from her wheelchair. "But I'm so horny right now. Please honey, fuck me!"
"In your wheelchair?" he asked, amused and aroused.
"Yes, in my wheelchair, I don't care!" she said. "I'm so horny right now.."
Derek lifted her dead legs and spread them, then had a thought. He went into another room and came back out with a pink vibrator, one she used to love 'before'. He removed her catheter and slowly slipped the dildo into her as she watched. Michelle moaned as she saw it enter her, and watched as Derek fucked her numb, unfeeling sex. "Faster, oh god Derek please, I need it so bad!"
Derek fucked her faster, pumping the vibrator in and out of his wife's paralyzed pussy, and he felt himself growing more and more aroused. He took one hand and began strokign his cock with her limp foot as he fucked her, and she begged for more and more. Finally he unstrapped her from her wheelchair and layed her on the floor, spreading her legs and plunging his cock into her flaccid pussy.
It felt different, but incredible. Derek fucked his quadriplegic wife on the floor and Michelle cried out for it, she was desparate, she couldn't feel anything at all, but she was SO excited. As he came close to orgasm, he reached out and grabbed her hair, curling hins fingers in her soft flowing locks and pulling her hair gently.
Her body didn't move, didn't budge, but her screams and moans made is clear that Michelle was having an orgasm. As soon as Derek tugged on her hair, everything just came together and she FELT it - not like she ever had before, but she FELT such pleasure as she didn't think she'd be capable of ever again.
Both of them just lay there for a few minutes, Derek stroking Michelle's hair and Michelle moaning with more pleasure.
"I wasn't expecting that." Michelle said, still breathing heavy.
"Neither was I." Derek said. "You can't feel any of that, can you?"
"Not physically, no, but there was 'something'. I can't explain it. But I want to do it again!" Michelle said, staring at Derek from the floor.
"Let's get some dinner and then maybe we'll try again." Derek said, smiling. "We'll need to get you back in your wheelchair."
"And I want to wear something sexy." Michelle said. Derek smiled.
Michelle wheeled out of the bedroom and Derek wolf-whistled. She was in a black mini-skirt that showed her white diaper, thigh-high silk stockings on her limp legs, black ballet slippers on her soft feet, and a black bustier that boosted her now flaccid breasts and showed her nipples. She smiled as she saw Derek's sensual and hungry look, even though he had been the one to dress her.
The diapers were her idea, and Derek had gladly obliged. It was more work than the catheter, but she knew that's what Derek liked, taking care of her 'special needs', and she was pretty sure every time Derek was going to clean her and change her diaper, he'd be up for fucking her too.
Michelle wheeled into the dining room and parked at the chairless spot beside the large mahogany dining table. Derek brought in a steaming plate of pasta and chicken, then a salad, hot bread, and a bottle of wine.
Derek fed Michelle as she sat there in her power chair, just like that first 'date' they had, when she was pretending for him. It was even more lovely now, even sweeter since she knew there was no way for her to feed herself. There was a deep new connection building between herself and Derek with every bite of food he fed her, every sip of wine.
Derek stroked her hair and her face, but Michelle did start to notice that he seemed to be avoiding anything below her neck for some reason.
"Derek, play with my tits. They're right there in front of you." Michelle purred. She could tell from Derek's response that it took him off gaurd, he was both embarrased and aroused, conflicted over her condidion. "Come on husband - you're going to have to get used to 'the new me' - this IS what you wanted, isn't it?
Derek gave into his baser desires and started playing with her numb paralyzed breasts right there at the table. Michelle moaned as she watched him caress and squeeze her unfeeling nipples, wished she could move her hands to her sex, play with her clit - all things she'd never be able to so on her own again, and instead of feelign bitter, it enhanced her experience, it made her even more aroused. She was panting when Derek finally began to stroke her hair, and as he pulled her hair sharply on either side, she screamed in what was, to her, another amazing orgasm.
Derek pushed Michelle in her wheelchair to the living room and put on the TV. Michelle chose the show and Derek set the channel and the volume to her wishes. As she sat and watched, Derek moved her legs for her, scratched her ear, gave her drinks - anything she needed. Yes, she was numb from her chin down, she was completely helpless, she was wearing a diaper and sitting in an expensive wheelchair. Yes she would be crippled for the rest of her life. But in some crazy, insane way, she was happy - happier than she had ever been. Never again would she - or could she - lift a finger to to anything.
"You look horny, my husband." Michelle purred a little later, smiling at him from her wheelchair. "And my feet are just sitting there limply, not doing anything at all. Why don't you make them feel loved?" she giggled like a schoolgirl.
Derek smiled, then looked worried.
"What's wrong Derek?" Michelle asked.
"Michelle, I need to tell you something, and I don't know how you're going to take it. There's been, well... a change in plans." he said, not even meeting her eyes. Michelle's heart sank. She couldn't do this without him, wouldn't do it...
"Is it me... is it my, my disability?" she said, tears starting to well up...
"No!" Derek said quickly, holding Michelle's limp hand in his. she didn't even notice. "It's not that at all. It's work. I was supposed to be done by now, retired, so I could stay here and care for you, but..."
"You're still working?" Michelle said, confused. "But the money, the investments, you said in the hospital that we were set for life, that neither of us ever had to work again."
"And that's true, mostly - but I guess I was too successful, the investments I made did so well, the firm offered me a lot more money to stay around and wrap up some other packages for them. It will probably be another month, two at the most."
Michelle wasn't sure what to say, how to react. She imagined herself helpless, sitting alone in her wheelchair all day waiting for Derek to return. What if she had an itch, what if she were thirsty? The panic must have shown on her face, because Derek quickly reqassured her.
"No, I won't leave you alone love, not ever! But I've had to hir a nurse to stay with you when I'm not around. She'll be here in the morning and take care of all your needs. I know this wasn't the plan, and I really am sorry, love. Do you forgive me?"
Michelle was still afraid. Derek was one thing - but a complete stranger? Caring for her, changin her diaper, feeding her?
"I promise, it will be OK honey. I will never leave you, I promise."
Michelle smiled hesitantly. It wouldn't be that much different from the rehab hospital, and it was just while Derek was at work.
"It's only for a little while?" she asked
"A few months, tops. And you'll really like Melissa - she's the nurse. She's really nice."
"Ok. Well... " Michelle looked at Derek. "My poor limp feet are still lonely down there. Maybe you'd like to do something about that?"
Derek smiled and kissed her deeply, stroking and tugging at her hair before undressing and lifting her soft, limp feet off her footrests and slipping off her soft black slippers. Michelle felt aroused again, watching her husband take such pleasure in her condition, in her crippled feet. He stroked his cock with her lip stockinged feet first, his cock coming erect almost instantly. He slipped her stockings down and then took her bare, limp feet and masturbated as she sat there, always telling her how sexy she looked, how good she felt. He came with a load moan and hot, spurting cum that splashed all over Michelle's unfeeling feet.
"I want to taste it." she said, and he obliged, lifting one of her limp legs so that she could lick and kiss her own crippled foot, tasting his sweet cum. He let her leg flop back down in her legrest and again kissed her, his tongue deep and probing, his fingers running through hier hair. "Pull it, pull my hair." she whispered in between deep kisses, and he obliged, teasing a little bit at a time, tugging, pulling sensually, building her up until she also came, loudly moaning with pleasure as her body lay still and lifeless in her wheelchair.
"I think it's time for bed there darling." Derek finalyl said, and placed Michelle's mouth control between her lips. She wheeled to the bedroom and Derek lifted her limp body out of the chair and dressed her for bed, wearing a large overnight diaper and compression socks on her limp legs. He kissed her good night and curled up next to her while she lay awake, imagining what the rest of her life was going to be like.
Little did she know, she had no idea what life had in store..
Michelle felt dizzy as the chair lift lowered her onto the driveway of her new home. She was familiar with her condition - complete C4 quadriplegic, paralyzed from her neck down - but the movement of the chair lift was a new sensation she wasnt' used to yet, and the sensation made her a little dizzy. She was grateful to be back on the ground. She watched from her power wheelchair as Derek made the adjustments necessary, and she took the mouth control between her lips and manipulated it to move her wheelchair forward and to the left, towards the new house. HER new house, she reminded herself. Perfectly adapted to a woman in her 'condition' - a helpless cripple, to be blunt.
The official reason for her disability was a broken neck due to a slip and fall down the basement stairs. And indeed, she HAD woken up at the bottom of the basement stairs, but that was only after her husband, Derek, had snapped her neck as they made love. It was all part of his 'plan', that she unwittingly assisted with, to make a small fortune using an insurance payout after her 'accident'. What she hadn't realized was that there was another layer to the plan, one that Derek hadn't mentioned, which used some choice investments to turn their half million dollar insurance payout into a multi-million dollar nestegg. By the time Michelle was finished with two and a half months of rehab at a VERY good rehab center, Derek had sold their old house and bought a beautiful new one in a very nice area of the state, and had it completely converted for wheelchair living. Michelle had seen pictures, of course, and seen Dereks' excitement, but even sitting in front of the beautiful, spacious home, she couldn't see it as anything more than a prison. Much like her wheelchair had become. Much like her body had become.
She had experienced this before, of course. Before her 'accident' - before Derek had crippled her. Derek had a fetish for helpless women, wheelchair bound women, and caring for them. Michelle had just wanted to quit her dead-end job and be taken care of. Derek proposed a compromise, where Michelle would 'pretend' to be disabled and he would care for her. They did it for an entire weekend, and it was wonderful, truly delightful for her. She had never felt so loved, so cared for, and the sex was amazing, totally amazing between them. Their little 'roleplay' had completely re-invograted their marriage. And then Derek broke her neck.
It had been hard to keep quiet at first. She was hurt, she was scared, and she had so many things going through her head. But Derek promised to take good care of her. Promised to make it right. It was when the pretty doctor with the long red hair and deep crimson nails sat beside her and told her that she was paralyzed, that she was a quadriplegic, how sorry she was, how Michelle could talk to a grief counsellor... Michelle realized that she really WAS crippled for the rest of her life, and that if she DID turn in Derek, she'd have no-one. She'd be helpless. And then what could she do?
So she kept up the story until she almost believed it, and Derek did make things better. He moved her to the best rehab center in the area, very high end. She had her own room and her own personal therapist that worked with her every day, mostly helping her get used to a life with no feeling below her neck, then moving into the few tasks she could still do. She had extensive training in the very expensive power wheelchair Derek had bought her, the mouth controls, using a mouth stick, and just living as a complete quadriplegic.
Derek visited every day, of course, and when they were alone told her how beautiful she was, how excited he was to take her home, how he would care for her. He brushed her hair once, as she sat in her wheelchair, and she had to admit, it was the most erotic hair brushing she had ever experienced, but she was still afraid. She was handicapped now, she couldn't even scratch her own nose, and she knew all the money in the world couldn't change that. But what else could she do?
Michelle wheeled over the wide paved walkway towards the front door. It opened for her automatically as she approaced, and she was able to easily maneuver her wheelchair into the house. It was large, beautifully decorated, and not nearly as 'adapted looking' as she expected. There were clearly some aspects of the design specifically for her - the wide doorways and extra space between things to allow her to maneuver easily. the bathroom was the most 'adapted', with a special shower and other modifications specific to her condition.
"How do you feel love? Do you like the place?" Michelle realized it was the first time Derek had spoken since they left the rehab center.
"I don't feel anything now, do I love?" she said, looking into his eyes. She could see his passion smolder behind those eyes. Could see his desire for her, deeper than she had ever seen it. Did she feel the same? Could she? It had been almost three months since they had made love, and the last time they made love he broke her neck. But she WANTED to feel it. Michelle WANTED to be the wife that Derek so deeply desired. She looked at him with a mixture of longing and sadness. "I want you." was all she said.
Derek didn't even bring her into the bedroom. They were in a spacious parlor, and Derek undressed and took her limp, curled hands out of her lap and began caressing himself with them. Michelle urged him on, telling him to do things with her body that she no longer could. He used her hands all over his body until she told him to use her feet, then he sat and lifted her dead legs. He took off the soft slippers she wore, then the tight white compression stockings, and she watched him using her floppy, limp feet, using them to play with his balls and shaft.
He was breathing heavy now, Michelle could tell he was close to orgasm. "I want you in my mouth." she said, her own authority surprising her. Derek complied, bringing himself up and allowing her to get his cock in her mouth. She used her lips and her tongue like she was driving her wheelchair, sucking him deeply. She wished she could play with his balls, but her hands just sat in her lap useless. She couldn't even shrug her shoulders. In the end, it didnt' matter. Derek came long and hard and shot his hot cum into her mouth. She lapped it up and didn't want to let go of his cock, still sucking and licking until he pulled gently away from her and collapsed onto the couch. Michelle looked at him and wanted more.
"You're going to have to give me a little time, love." he said breathlessly. "That was the most amzing head I've ever had - you're amazing."
"God Derek, I wasn't sure I could even GET aroused any more, after the accident..." she looked at him from her wheelchair. "But I'm so horny right now. Please honey, fuck me!"
"In your wheelchair?" he asked, amused and aroused.
"Yes, in my wheelchair, I don't care!" she said. "I'm so horny right now.."
Derek lifted her dead legs and spread them, then had a thought. He went into another room and came back out with a pink vibrator, one she used to love 'before'. He removed her catheter and slowly slipped the dildo into her as she watched. Michelle moaned as she saw it enter her, and watched as Derek fucked her numb, unfeeling sex. "Faster, oh god Derek please, I need it so bad!"
Derek fucked her faster, pumping the vibrator in and out of his wife's paralyzed pussy, and he felt himself growing more and more aroused. He took one hand and began strokign his cock with her limp foot as he fucked her, and she begged for more and more. Finally he unstrapped her from her wheelchair and layed her on the floor, spreading her legs and plunging his cock into her flaccid pussy.
It felt different, but incredible. Derek fucked his quadriplegic wife on the floor and Michelle cried out for it, she was desparate, she couldn't feel anything at all, but she was SO excited. As he came close to orgasm, he reached out and grabbed her hair, curling hins fingers in her soft flowing locks and pulling her hair gently.
Her body didn't move, didn't budge, but her screams and moans made is clear that Michelle was having an orgasm. As soon as Derek tugged on her hair, everything just came together and she FELT it - not like she ever had before, but she FELT such pleasure as she didn't think she'd be capable of ever again.
Both of them just lay there for a few minutes, Derek stroking Michelle's hair and Michelle moaning with more pleasure.
"I wasn't expecting that." Michelle said, still breathing heavy.
"Neither was I." Derek said. "You can't feel any of that, can you?"
"Not physically, no, but there was 'something'. I can't explain it. But I want to do it again!" Michelle said, staring at Derek from the floor.
"Let's get some dinner and then maybe we'll try again." Derek said, smiling. "We'll need to get you back in your wheelchair."
"And I want to wear something sexy." Michelle said. Derek smiled.
Michelle wheeled out of the bedroom and Derek wolf-whistled. She was in a black mini-skirt that showed her white diaper, thigh-high silk stockings on her limp legs, black ballet slippers on her soft feet, and a black bustier that boosted her now flaccid breasts and showed her nipples. She smiled as she saw Derek's sensual and hungry look, even though he had been the one to dress her.
The diapers were her idea, and Derek had gladly obliged. It was more work than the catheter, but she knew that's what Derek liked, taking care of her 'special needs', and she was pretty sure every time Derek was going to clean her and change her diaper, he'd be up for fucking her too.
Michelle wheeled into the dining room and parked at the chairless spot beside the large mahogany dining table. Derek brought in a steaming plate of pasta and chicken, then a salad, hot bread, and a bottle of wine.
Derek fed Michelle as she sat there in her power chair, just like that first 'date' they had, when she was pretending for him. It was even more lovely now, even sweeter since she knew there was no way for her to feed herself. There was a deep new connection building between herself and Derek with every bite of food he fed her, every sip of wine.
Derek stroked her hair and her face, but Michelle did start to notice that he seemed to be avoiding anything below her neck for some reason.
"Derek, play with my tits. They're right there in front of you." Michelle purred. She could tell from Derek's response that it took him off gaurd, he was both embarrased and aroused, conflicted over her condidion. "Come on husband - you're going to have to get used to 'the new me' - this IS what you wanted, isn't it?
Derek gave into his baser desires and started playing with her numb paralyzed breasts right there at the table. Michelle moaned as she watched him caress and squeeze her unfeeling nipples, wished she could move her hands to her sex, play with her clit - all things she'd never be able to so on her own again, and instead of feelign bitter, it enhanced her experience, it made her even more aroused. She was panting when Derek finally began to stroke her hair, and as he pulled her hair sharply on either side, she screamed in what was, to her, another amazing orgasm.
Derek pushed Michelle in her wheelchair to the living room and put on the TV. Michelle chose the show and Derek set the channel and the volume to her wishes. As she sat and watched, Derek moved her legs for her, scratched her ear, gave her drinks - anything she needed. Yes, she was numb from her chin down, she was completely helpless, she was wearing a diaper and sitting in an expensive wheelchair. Yes she would be crippled for the rest of her life. But in some crazy, insane way, she was happy - happier than she had ever been. Never again would she - or could she - lift a finger to to anything.
"You look horny, my husband." Michelle purred a little later, smiling at him from her wheelchair. "And my feet are just sitting there limply, not doing anything at all. Why don't you make them feel loved?" she giggled like a schoolgirl.
Derek smiled, then looked worried.
"What's wrong Derek?" Michelle asked.
"Michelle, I need to tell you something, and I don't know how you're going to take it. There's been, well... a change in plans." he said, not even meeting her eyes. Michelle's heart sank. She couldn't do this without him, wouldn't do it...
"Is it me... is it my, my disability?" she said, tears starting to well up...
"No!" Derek said quickly, holding Michelle's limp hand in his. she didn't even notice. "It's not that at all. It's work. I was supposed to be done by now, retired, so I could stay here and care for you, but..."
"You're still working?" Michelle said, confused. "But the money, the investments, you said in the hospital that we were set for life, that neither of us ever had to work again."
"And that's true, mostly - but I guess I was too successful, the investments I made did so well, the firm offered me a lot more money to stay around and wrap up some other packages for them. It will probably be another month, two at the most."
Michelle wasn't sure what to say, how to react. She imagined herself helpless, sitting alone in her wheelchair all day waiting for Derek to return. What if she had an itch, what if she were thirsty? The panic must have shown on her face, because Derek quickly reqassured her.
"No, I won't leave you alone love, not ever! But I've had to hir a nurse to stay with you when I'm not around. She'll be here in the morning and take care of all your needs. I know this wasn't the plan, and I really am sorry, love. Do you forgive me?"
Michelle was still afraid. Derek was one thing - but a complete stranger? Caring for her, changin her diaper, feeding her?
"I promise, it will be OK honey. I will never leave you, I promise."
Michelle smiled hesitantly. It wouldn't be that much different from the rehab hospital, and it was just while Derek was at work.
"It's only for a little while?" she asked
"A few months, tops. And you'll really like Melissa - she's the nurse. She's really nice."
"Ok. Well... " Michelle looked at Derek. "My poor limp feet are still lonely down there. Maybe you'd like to do something about that?"
Derek smiled and kissed her deeply, stroking and tugging at her hair before undressing and lifting her soft, limp feet off her footrests and slipping off her soft black slippers. Michelle felt aroused again, watching her husband take such pleasure in her condition, in her crippled feet. He stroked his cock with her lip stockinged feet first, his cock coming erect almost instantly. He slipped her stockings down and then took her bare, limp feet and masturbated as she sat there, always telling her how sexy she looked, how good she felt. He came with a load moan and hot, spurting cum that splashed all over Michelle's unfeeling feet.
"I want to taste it." she said, and he obliged, lifting one of her limp legs so that she could lick and kiss her own crippled foot, tasting his sweet cum. He let her leg flop back down in her legrest and again kissed her, his tongue deep and probing, his fingers running through hier hair. "Pull it, pull my hair." she whispered in between deep kisses, and he obliged, teasing a little bit at a time, tugging, pulling sensually, building her up until she also came, loudly moaning with pleasure as her body lay still and lifeless in her wheelchair.
"I think it's time for bed there darling." Derek finalyl said, and placed Michelle's mouth control between her lips. She wheeled to the bedroom and Derek lifted her limp body out of the chair and dressed her for bed, wearing a large overnight diaper and compression socks on her limp legs. He kissed her good night and curled up next to her while she lay awake, imagining what the rest of her life was going to be like.
Little did she know, she had no idea what life had in store..
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Blog - more day to day stuff
Well, I guess most people like reading my 'day to day' tales as well as my stories, so I guess I'll try to update a few times a week, assuming I remember and have time.
First - the votes were counted, and by an overwhelming amount, 'paraplegic' won in my 'how should I go on vacation' poll, which means that either you all really like paras, you really like me, or you really dislike Heather and her fetish.
In any case, I will be going on vacation, five days in New Hampshire with Heather, as a para. HOWEVER, I made a compromise with my beloved, because I do love her so much, and we will be spending a long three-day weekend soon at a bed and breakfast in a nearby state (Rhode Island) with me pretending to be newly blind for the entire weekend, just for Heather. I'm very nervous about this, and we still haven't decided if we'll be able to get the blind-eye contacts in the timeframe we have, or if I'll be wearing patches and heavy glasses.
In other news, thanks so much to my pal Gamera for turning me onto an interesting (yet kinda boring) Katawa Shoujo - a Japanese 'dating simulator' that allows you to interact with various disabled girls, including a very cute DAE amputee. I wish there was more to do in it and more choices to make, but it's still very unique and interesting. Oh, and I also need to thank him for introducing me to the world of hardcore anime quad amputee porn, apparently. I've been turned on all WEEK thanks to the pics he sent me, and I've got lots of ideas for stories too!
Work is just work - I'm still in my wheelchair full time, nobody even questions it any more. My family isn't so understanding, I've started using crutches a bit around my mom and my aunt, but that's not too often.
Not sure what else to post - anyone have any questions or anything? I'm willing to be more interactive with people if you like, since comments on these posts go directly to my email....
First - the votes were counted, and by an overwhelming amount, 'paraplegic' won in my 'how should I go on vacation' poll, which means that either you all really like paras, you really like me, or you really dislike Heather and her fetish.
In any case, I will be going on vacation, five days in New Hampshire with Heather, as a para. HOWEVER, I made a compromise with my beloved, because I do love her so much, and we will be spending a long three-day weekend soon at a bed and breakfast in a nearby state (Rhode Island) with me pretending to be newly blind for the entire weekend, just for Heather. I'm very nervous about this, and we still haven't decided if we'll be able to get the blind-eye contacts in the timeframe we have, or if I'll be wearing patches and heavy glasses.
In other news, thanks so much to my pal Gamera for turning me onto an interesting (yet kinda boring) Katawa Shoujo - a Japanese 'dating simulator' that allows you to interact with various disabled girls, including a very cute DAE amputee. I wish there was more to do in it and more choices to make, but it's still very unique and interesting. Oh, and I also need to thank him for introducing me to the world of hardcore anime quad amputee porn, apparently. I've been turned on all WEEK thanks to the pics he sent me, and I've got lots of ideas for stories too!
Work is just work - I'm still in my wheelchair full time, nobody even questions it any more. My family isn't so understanding, I've started using crutches a bit around my mom and my aunt, but that's not too often.
Not sure what else to post - anyone have any questions or anything? I'm willing to be more interactive with people if you like, since comments on these posts go directly to my email....
Monday, June 1, 2009
New Poll
I wanted to do a new poll to get an idea of what people like most in my stories. You can select multiple answers, so have fun, let me know what you REALLY like, and you can always post answers as anonymous too, so if you've got a seriously naughty kink you can tell me all about it in secret - I won't tell anyone, I promise :)
The Results of the poll
As many people know, I put up a poll to decide how I should go on vacation, as a para or as a blind woman. The results, not surprisingly, were MASSIVELY in favor of going as a para, so that's what we're doing. HOWEVER, I still wanted to do something special for Heather, so we're sneaking away for a long Fourth of July weekend with me blindsimming the whole time, and we're both really looking forward to that.
So do people want me to post normal 'day in the life' type blog stuff here too? Or just stick with the stories?
So do people want me to post normal 'day in the life' type blog stuff here too? Or just stick with the stories?
Story - My Fantasy (Parts 1 & 2)
My Fantasy By ParaGirl
Part 1
I have a fantasy I'd like to share. It has to do with
being handicapped, being crippled and confined to a wheelchair.
You see, I'm not like other girls. All my life, just about,
I've wanted to be confined to a wheelchair. It just seems so
natural to me, all I want is to be crippled, helplessly so, so
I'm totally reliant on a wheelchair, and this is one of my
fantasies on how it would happen...
"You were very lucky, Cathy" the doctor says in his
doctorly voice. "above the waist, nothing but a couple of
scrapes, a bruise..."
"And below the waist?" I ask him. I already know that I
can't feel my legs at all, but they're so encased in blankets
and swathing I can't SEE them. My heart is beating a mile a
minute.
The doctor looks grim. "Below the waist is a different
story, Cathy. First, you have a broken back, spinal cord
severed at the L-2 vertebrate. You probably already realize you
have no feeling from the waist down...
My heart skips a beat. Paralyzed! I can't believe it's
finally true, but there seems to be something more the doctor is
holding back.
"Also Cathy, both your legs were crushed very badly in the
crash. We had to amputate both, about 4" below the knee. I'm
afraid between the paralysis and the amputations, well, the odds
of you walking are not good."
I almost faint at the news. I have images of me, in a
wheelchair for the rest of my life, both paralyzed and an
amputee, hopelessly crippled. I feel lightheaded, giddy to
think such a thing could happen, and I'm so happy!! I can't
wait to get out of the hospital and start my new life!
Six months pass by. I get over my injuries quickly and
move into a new apartment, one more suited for my new condition.
It's a nice place, all the comforts of home, plus it's
completely converted for my use. I look in the mirror at
myself. My hair is longer now, past my shoulders. I'm wearing
a tight blouse and a small mini-skirt, sitting in my wheelchair.
I look at my stumps, hanging there over the edge of my
wheelchair, nothing more than soft little mounds of flesh,
covered with silky nylons, not that I can feel the silkiness.
With all the doctors tried, I still have no feeling at all in
what's left of my legs. I've adapted to my new crippled
condition surprisingly well, according to my physical therapist.
If he only knew how well!
A typical day at home. As I lay in bed I hear the door
open. It's Jessica, my personal assistant. She helps me to do
the things a girl in my condition has trouble with. She's going
through school to be a physical therapist, and this is like on
the job training. She comes into my room, happy to see me as
always, and asks how I slept. Fine, as usual I tell her. I
boost myself up into a sitting position and Jessica sits in my
wheelchair, by the bed. She lifts my stumps and hangs them over
the edge of the bed, so I'm facing her. She starts off by
massaging my crippled legs, kneading them. I cant feel them,
but just watching her rub and knead the pale, soft flesh of
what's left of my legs is very stimulating, especially since I
can't feel a thing. After all these months, being a cripple
still excites me! She finishes the massage and help me dress.
I choose white knee-socks, which of course are thigh-hi's for
me, and a pair of red and white short-shorts, along with a white
blouse. I always try to look my best.
First come the thigh-hi's. Jessica lifts my left leg and
begins smoothing the tight sock over my stump. She pulls it all
the way up, almost to my crotch, not that I can feel it of
course. then does the same with the other. She then puts a
diaper on me, because not everything about being a complete
cripple is perfect, I have limited bladder control due to the
paralysis. She puts my panties on over my diaper and then lifts
both my stubbies to get the legs of my shorts over them. The
shorts are small and tight, the way I like them, and it takes
Jessica a minute to get them all the way on. I put on my own
blouse and bra. I could do it all, of course, and often do, but
I get an extra thrill when someone helps me to do it.
Jessica lifts me into my wheelchair and I lift my left
stump over my right, demurely crossing my crippled legs. I
think it's so sexy to watch my stumps just sway and flop there
helplessly, I love to feel like a cripple. I love for people
to have to help me do things, love the way my paralyzed stumps
attract attention. I love the way my legs drag behind me when I
butt-scoot across the floor. I love it all, I love my body now,
in it's helpless condition.
I know it sounds odd, to actually LIKE being a cripple, to
enjoy being paralyzed from the waist down AND have both my legs
amputated just below the knee, but it's not bad at all, really.
I like getting around in my wheelchair, I like being in it, I
always have. I thing I'm better this way, sexier as a crippled
girl.
The next day is the pool, for both fun and exercise with
Jessica. We get to the pool and Jessica slides off my shorts,
revealing a small bikini bottom. I take off my t-shirt to
revael a skimpy bikini top. I drop down out of my wheelchair
and butt-scoot over to the poolside, dragging my stumps behind
me as I scoot on my hands. Jessica is already in the water, and
she gently lifts my legs over the edge of the pool. My stumps
dip in the water, but I can't feel them, of course. Due to my
condition, I can't really swim, so I hold onto Jessica and lower
myself into the water. I feel the chill of the water as soon as
it hits my bellybutton, and I giggle. I look down into the
water to see my stumps just floating around limply. Jessica
puts me on a float and I paddle around the pool in the sun.
Part 2
My Fantasy 2 By ParaGirl
I sat there in my wheelchair and looked down at my legs.
Firm thighs, and dangling over the edge of my wheelchair just
those two short stumps just below the knee. I lift my right
stump and place it over my left, crossing what's left of my
crippled legs. I can't feel them, because of the accident, I'm
an L-2 paraplegic as well as an amputee, so I'm totally
crippled below the waist. I straighten my short mini-skirt a
little and make sure my nylons are on OK, then head out on the
town.
I was so happy when I first learned how badly hurt my legs
were from the accident. I'd always wanted to be a cripple, ever
since I was a little girl. I first tried crutches, hopping
around, maybe taping up an ankle, until I discovered
wheelchairs. From the very first moment I sat in one, I knew I
wanted to be confined to a wheelchair. I bought my own,
practiced in it, even going to neighboring towns and going out
in it, but it was never enough. I always dreamed of really
needing one, until one day, when I was 20, almost two years ago
now, the accident came out of nowhere, complete freak, or maybe
fate. I woke up in the hospital to the news that not only was I
paralyzed from the waist down, but both my poor legs had been
amputated just below the knee. This was it, completely
crippled, wheelchair bound for life. The doctors said that
between the paralysis and the amputations, I'd never walk again,
ever. I wanted to thank them when they told me!
The adjustment was strange at first, but exciting too. I
got used to my condition very quickly. For a while I had a
personal assistant, but I didn't really need her, so I let her
go. Now I get around just fine, and I like to dress up very
sexy, to show off my new and improved crippled legs. I have a
nice sleek wheelchair and a car with converted hand controls, so
I can drive it. I get into the car by boosting myself from my
wheelchair and sliding into the seat, then dragging my little
legs and hanging them over the edge of the seat. I make quite a
sight, that's for sure. As for clothes, well that's Lynne's
department, a new friend of mine, and that's where I'm going
today.
Lynne was a fashion designer before her accident. We met
in rehab and became very close friends. Lynne was run over by a
hit-and run driver. She lost one of her hands, and both legs
were badly crushed. She can walk a little, with braces and
special crutches, but she prefers a wheelchair, like I do. She
likes to design provocative clothes for people like us now, and
I'm going there to try on some new designs today.
"Cathy, you're here!!" Lynne shouts when I enter her
apartment/studio. She's in a sunflower mini-dress that doesn't
cover any of the metal braces encasing both her legs, and I can
see the opaque printed stockings covering her legs, leading into
the open-toed tie-up shoes her braces are attached to. She's in
her wheelchair and powering it towards me, waving her hook at
me. It looks like it has some sort of cloth waving in it.
"Oh Cathy, you're going to love what I made you!" she
squeals. As she gets closer I can still see how bad her legs
must have been crushed. Her toes point in and her legs both
hang at an awkward angle that is somewhat sexy. She pulls up
beside my wheelchair and gives me what she'd been working on.
"I made it from an old pair of running pants, try them on"
She says . What I'm holding is a pair of very stretchy red
spandex pants with the legs sewn up about four inches below the
knees, made just for my legs. I'd definitely need help getting
them on, but It would be worth it by the looks of the pants.
"They look great!" I tell her. "I can't wait to try them
on."
"Here, let me help you then." Lynne helps me out of my
skirt and stockings, so I'm sitting in my wheelchair naked from
the waist down., my stumps hanging loosely over the edge of my
chair. Lynne wheels herself in front of me and lift my left
stump. I can see, though certainly not feel, Lynne's fingers
caress the end of my stump.
"Sometimes I wish my legs had been amputated too, Cathy,
then I wouldn't have to deal with these braces, or legs that
don't work. Your stumps are so sexy, just smooth and round and
hanging there like that."
I blushed, as I usually do when Lynne complements my
stumps. I watched as she stretched the legs of the pants
around my legs, smoothing them and pulling the up. I boosted up
in my wheelchair with my arms so she could pull them all the way
up. She smoothed them one last time, and I saw my crippled legs
trapped in the shiny, skin-tight red spandex, the ends sewed so
precisely that the ended exactly where my legs did, so that
there was just a smooth round end on them, my paralyzed stumps
filling them perfectly. I loved it, but they didn't go at all
with my shirt, which I told Lynne, of course.
"Don't worry, there's more to the outfit than that, just
wait a sec, OK."
I watched Lynne lock her wheelchair in place and lift one
leg, then the other and lock them out straight. She put her
feet back on the ground, or at least her heels, and reached for
her crutches, some aluminum forearm types. On was specially
modified, so that she could use it with her prosthesis with her
missing hand. She placed them slightly behind her and pushed,
getting to her feet in one easy motion. She walked, swinging
her braced legs through the crutches, and went ouver to another
large cabinet. Inside hung all manner of specialized clothes,
shirts, pants, skirts, all made to show off, rather than hide
our handicaps. I saw one outfit I knew Lynne was very fond of.
It consisted of black tights, over which she put her legbraces
on, a tight pair of white short-shorts and a black-and-white
stretch top with very short sleeves. She always wore it with
her hook prosthesis and her legbraces, so that all of her
attributes could be easily visible.
She took some other clothes out and crutched over to me,
sitting back in her wheelchair to help me put on the rest of the
outfit. I stripped my shirt and bra off and Lynne fitted me
with a black corset with a built in bustier. It was so sexy! I
watched as she lifted my spandex-clad stumps and put black
'socks' on over the ends of them, making a very hot little
accent. The last peices were red-trimmed black gloves that came
up to my elbows. I was going to break hearts tonight! I rolled
over to Lynne's large mirror and looked at myself. The black
corset and gloves really made my light skin and dark hair scream
for attention, and down from there, I stared at the skin-tight
spandex covering my thighs, tapering down to stumps, which were
in turn covered with the little black 'socks', a very sexy
outfit indeed. I was just getting ready to ask Lynne what else
she had been up to when something in the mirror behind me caught
my eye. I turned to see Lynne on her crutches, holding up the
most amazing thing I'd ever seen. It was a black leather body
suit apparently, very black and very shiny, and as I looked at
it I realized that the legs were sewn shut, about four inches
below the knee.
"You'll need a bit of help getting into this one too, but I
think you'll like the finished product." Lynne smiled and I was
sure she was right...
Part 1
I have a fantasy I'd like to share. It has to do with
being handicapped, being crippled and confined to a wheelchair.
You see, I'm not like other girls. All my life, just about,
I've wanted to be confined to a wheelchair. It just seems so
natural to me, all I want is to be crippled, helplessly so, so
I'm totally reliant on a wheelchair, and this is one of my
fantasies on how it would happen...
"You were very lucky, Cathy" the doctor says in his
doctorly voice. "above the waist, nothing but a couple of
scrapes, a bruise..."
"And below the waist?" I ask him. I already know that I
can't feel my legs at all, but they're so encased in blankets
and swathing I can't SEE them. My heart is beating a mile a
minute.
The doctor looks grim. "Below the waist is a different
story, Cathy. First, you have a broken back, spinal cord
severed at the L-2 vertebrate. You probably already realize you
have no feeling from the waist down...
My heart skips a beat. Paralyzed! I can't believe it's
finally true, but there seems to be something more the doctor is
holding back.
"Also Cathy, both your legs were crushed very badly in the
crash. We had to amputate both, about 4" below the knee. I'm
afraid between the paralysis and the amputations, well, the odds
of you walking are not good."
I almost faint at the news. I have images of me, in a
wheelchair for the rest of my life, both paralyzed and an
amputee, hopelessly crippled. I feel lightheaded, giddy to
think such a thing could happen, and I'm so happy!! I can't
wait to get out of the hospital and start my new life!
Six months pass by. I get over my injuries quickly and
move into a new apartment, one more suited for my new condition.
It's a nice place, all the comforts of home, plus it's
completely converted for my use. I look in the mirror at
myself. My hair is longer now, past my shoulders. I'm wearing
a tight blouse and a small mini-skirt, sitting in my wheelchair.
I look at my stumps, hanging there over the edge of my
wheelchair, nothing more than soft little mounds of flesh,
covered with silky nylons, not that I can feel the silkiness.
With all the doctors tried, I still have no feeling at all in
what's left of my legs. I've adapted to my new crippled
condition surprisingly well, according to my physical therapist.
If he only knew how well!
A typical day at home. As I lay in bed I hear the door
open. It's Jessica, my personal assistant. She helps me to do
the things a girl in my condition has trouble with. She's going
through school to be a physical therapist, and this is like on
the job training. She comes into my room, happy to see me as
always, and asks how I slept. Fine, as usual I tell her. I
boost myself up into a sitting position and Jessica sits in my
wheelchair, by the bed. She lifts my stumps and hangs them over
the edge of the bed, so I'm facing her. She starts off by
massaging my crippled legs, kneading them. I cant feel them,
but just watching her rub and knead the pale, soft flesh of
what's left of my legs is very stimulating, especially since I
can't feel a thing. After all these months, being a cripple
still excites me! She finishes the massage and help me dress.
I choose white knee-socks, which of course are thigh-hi's for
me, and a pair of red and white short-shorts, along with a white
blouse. I always try to look my best.
First come the thigh-hi's. Jessica lifts my left leg and
begins smoothing the tight sock over my stump. She pulls it all
the way up, almost to my crotch, not that I can feel it of
course. then does the same with the other. She then puts a
diaper on me, because not everything about being a complete
cripple is perfect, I have limited bladder control due to the
paralysis. She puts my panties on over my diaper and then lifts
both my stubbies to get the legs of my shorts over them. The
shorts are small and tight, the way I like them, and it takes
Jessica a minute to get them all the way on. I put on my own
blouse and bra. I could do it all, of course, and often do, but
I get an extra thrill when someone helps me to do it.
Jessica lifts me into my wheelchair and I lift my left
stump over my right, demurely crossing my crippled legs. I
think it's so sexy to watch my stumps just sway and flop there
helplessly, I love to feel like a cripple. I love for people
to have to help me do things, love the way my paralyzed stumps
attract attention. I love the way my legs drag behind me when I
butt-scoot across the floor. I love it all, I love my body now,
in it's helpless condition.
I know it sounds odd, to actually LIKE being a cripple, to
enjoy being paralyzed from the waist down AND have both my legs
amputated just below the knee, but it's not bad at all, really.
I like getting around in my wheelchair, I like being in it, I
always have. I thing I'm better this way, sexier as a crippled
girl.
The next day is the pool, for both fun and exercise with
Jessica. We get to the pool and Jessica slides off my shorts,
revealing a small bikini bottom. I take off my t-shirt to
revael a skimpy bikini top. I drop down out of my wheelchair
and butt-scoot over to the poolside, dragging my stumps behind
me as I scoot on my hands. Jessica is already in the water, and
she gently lifts my legs over the edge of the pool. My stumps
dip in the water, but I can't feel them, of course. Due to my
condition, I can't really swim, so I hold onto Jessica and lower
myself into the water. I feel the chill of the water as soon as
it hits my bellybutton, and I giggle. I look down into the
water to see my stumps just floating around limply. Jessica
puts me on a float and I paddle around the pool in the sun.
Part 2
My Fantasy 2 By ParaGirl
I sat there in my wheelchair and looked down at my legs.
Firm thighs, and dangling over the edge of my wheelchair just
those two short stumps just below the knee. I lift my right
stump and place it over my left, crossing what's left of my
crippled legs. I can't feel them, because of the accident, I'm
an L-2 paraplegic as well as an amputee, so I'm totally
crippled below the waist. I straighten my short mini-skirt a
little and make sure my nylons are on OK, then head out on the
town.
I was so happy when I first learned how badly hurt my legs
were from the accident. I'd always wanted to be a cripple, ever
since I was a little girl. I first tried crutches, hopping
around, maybe taping up an ankle, until I discovered
wheelchairs. From the very first moment I sat in one, I knew I
wanted to be confined to a wheelchair. I bought my own,
practiced in it, even going to neighboring towns and going out
in it, but it was never enough. I always dreamed of really
needing one, until one day, when I was 20, almost two years ago
now, the accident came out of nowhere, complete freak, or maybe
fate. I woke up in the hospital to the news that not only was I
paralyzed from the waist down, but both my poor legs had been
amputated just below the knee. This was it, completely
crippled, wheelchair bound for life. The doctors said that
between the paralysis and the amputations, I'd never walk again,
ever. I wanted to thank them when they told me!
The adjustment was strange at first, but exciting too. I
got used to my condition very quickly. For a while I had a
personal assistant, but I didn't really need her, so I let her
go. Now I get around just fine, and I like to dress up very
sexy, to show off my new and improved crippled legs. I have a
nice sleek wheelchair and a car with converted hand controls, so
I can drive it. I get into the car by boosting myself from my
wheelchair and sliding into the seat, then dragging my little
legs and hanging them over the edge of the seat. I make quite a
sight, that's for sure. As for clothes, well that's Lynne's
department, a new friend of mine, and that's where I'm going
today.
Lynne was a fashion designer before her accident. We met
in rehab and became very close friends. Lynne was run over by a
hit-and run driver. She lost one of her hands, and both legs
were badly crushed. She can walk a little, with braces and
special crutches, but she prefers a wheelchair, like I do. She
likes to design provocative clothes for people like us now, and
I'm going there to try on some new designs today.
"Cathy, you're here!!" Lynne shouts when I enter her
apartment/studio. She's in a sunflower mini-dress that doesn't
cover any of the metal braces encasing both her legs, and I can
see the opaque printed stockings covering her legs, leading into
the open-toed tie-up shoes her braces are attached to. She's in
her wheelchair and powering it towards me, waving her hook at
me. It looks like it has some sort of cloth waving in it.
"Oh Cathy, you're going to love what I made you!" she
squeals. As she gets closer I can still see how bad her legs
must have been crushed. Her toes point in and her legs both
hang at an awkward angle that is somewhat sexy. She pulls up
beside my wheelchair and gives me what she'd been working on.
"I made it from an old pair of running pants, try them on"
She says . What I'm holding is a pair of very stretchy red
spandex pants with the legs sewn up about four inches below the
knees, made just for my legs. I'd definitely need help getting
them on, but It would be worth it by the looks of the pants.
"They look great!" I tell her. "I can't wait to try them
on."
"Here, let me help you then." Lynne helps me out of my
skirt and stockings, so I'm sitting in my wheelchair naked from
the waist down., my stumps hanging loosely over the edge of my
chair. Lynne wheels herself in front of me and lift my left
stump. I can see, though certainly not feel, Lynne's fingers
caress the end of my stump.
"Sometimes I wish my legs had been amputated too, Cathy,
then I wouldn't have to deal with these braces, or legs that
don't work. Your stumps are so sexy, just smooth and round and
hanging there like that."
I blushed, as I usually do when Lynne complements my
stumps. I watched as she stretched the legs of the pants
around my legs, smoothing them and pulling the up. I boosted up
in my wheelchair with my arms so she could pull them all the way
up. She smoothed them one last time, and I saw my crippled legs
trapped in the shiny, skin-tight red spandex, the ends sewed so
precisely that the ended exactly where my legs did, so that
there was just a smooth round end on them, my paralyzed stumps
filling them perfectly. I loved it, but they didn't go at all
with my shirt, which I told Lynne, of course.
"Don't worry, there's more to the outfit than that, just
wait a sec, OK."
I watched Lynne lock her wheelchair in place and lift one
leg, then the other and lock them out straight. She put her
feet back on the ground, or at least her heels, and reached for
her crutches, some aluminum forearm types. On was specially
modified, so that she could use it with her prosthesis with her
missing hand. She placed them slightly behind her and pushed,
getting to her feet in one easy motion. She walked, swinging
her braced legs through the crutches, and went ouver to another
large cabinet. Inside hung all manner of specialized clothes,
shirts, pants, skirts, all made to show off, rather than hide
our handicaps. I saw one outfit I knew Lynne was very fond of.
It consisted of black tights, over which she put her legbraces
on, a tight pair of white short-shorts and a black-and-white
stretch top with very short sleeves. She always wore it with
her hook prosthesis and her legbraces, so that all of her
attributes could be easily visible.
She took some other clothes out and crutched over to me,
sitting back in her wheelchair to help me put on the rest of the
outfit. I stripped my shirt and bra off and Lynne fitted me
with a black corset with a built in bustier. It was so sexy! I
watched as she lifted my spandex-clad stumps and put black
'socks' on over the ends of them, making a very hot little
accent. The last peices were red-trimmed black gloves that came
up to my elbows. I was going to break hearts tonight! I rolled
over to Lynne's large mirror and looked at myself. The black
corset and gloves really made my light skin and dark hair scream
for attention, and down from there, I stared at the skin-tight
spandex covering my thighs, tapering down to stumps, which were
in turn covered with the little black 'socks', a very sexy
outfit indeed. I was just getting ready to ask Lynne what else
she had been up to when something in the mirror behind me caught
my eye. I turned to see Lynne on her crutches, holding up the
most amazing thing I'd ever seen. It was a black leather body
suit apparently, very black and very shiny, and as I looked at
it I realized that the legs were sewn shut, about four inches
below the knee.
"You'll need a bit of help getting into this one too, but I
think you'll like the finished product." Lynne smiled and I was
sure she was right...
Story - Laura
Laura By ParaGirl
Hi, my name is Laura, how are you? That's good. I'm glad
you came, I really need help, you see, I was in an accident two
years ago, and I'm paralyzed almost completely from the neck
down, I can't move. Oh, it's OK, I've gotten used to it, but I
still need help to do things, which is why I'm glad you came.
First, since I'm just lying here in bed, could you please
dress me? I'd like to go out today, and I' d like to look nice.
In the closet, the red dress, yes, that's it. And could you get
a bra and some stockings from that drawer there, yes, those are
nice. First the stockings, you'll have to lift my legs and
slide them on. Yes, like that, you have to hold my legs because
I have no feeling or control in them, they're totally flaccid.
Yes, They are smooth, I have a nurse come in twice a week to
shave them and other things. Even though I can't move, I'd
still like to look nice for people. There, the stockings look
nice. Yes, my legs are thin, from muscle atrophy, but they
still look OK. I used to dance a lot, and go biking, before my
accident, and my body still looks OK.
Now my bra. For this, lift me up into a sitting position.
Ooh, not so fast, you'll make me dizzy. There, now hold me, I
have no muscle control at all. OK, now lift my arms and put
them through the bra straps. My breasts are still large, and
still firm, even if I can't feel them at all. There, clasp the
bra in the back, yes, like that. Now for the dress.
If you notice, it's specially made for me. Lay me back
down, gently please. As you can see, the dress is open all the
way down the back. to put it on me, lift my arms, one at a
time, and place them in the sleeves. Thank you, yes I think it
is a very pretty dress, I had it made special. I think the low
neckline is especially nice. Now that I'm in it, here comes the
awkward part. The zipper starts at the top, there. Now, sit me
back up and zip it down as far as you can. I can't feel
anything at all, but I'm sure it's right. Now lay me back down.
OK, to zip the rest, roll me sideways, gently. No, I don't
mind, just do it gently. Yes, that's fine. Now you can zip me
up. Done? OK, roll me back.
Now that I'm dressed, could you put me into my wheelchair?
It isn't hard really. first bring the chair up close to the bed
and drop the side rail facing the bed. Yes it is a nice chair,
and light, too, for a powered chair. Yes, the control is on the
handrest, I'll explain that in a minute, after you put me into
it. Ok, now sit me up again. There, that's good. Slide my
legs off the bed. Good. Now slide me over, into the chair, and
fasten the belt. Yes, I need a seat belt to hold me into my
chair, with no control at all, I could just slide out. OK, now
push up the side rail, good. Now place my legs in the legrests,
and try to make them look straight. I can't move them, and I
hate for them to look twisted and crippled, even though they
are. OK, next we finish dressing me.
I need shoes to go out. Those red hoes there, with the
straps, put those on me. Yes, make sure the staps are held
firmly, I don't want my shoes falling off at the store! Now,
you see the small gold chain on the dresser, with the little
ruby pendant? Put that around my neck, there, that's nice. Now
for the last thing, and the answer to your earlier question. Do
you see a nylon wrist brace on the table there. Yes, put it on
my right hand, like that. Ok, good. You see, I'm not totally
paralyzed, I've regained partial movement in my left arm and
hand, at least enough to drive my chair. The brace is just
because I still really can't control my hand enough to grip the
control stick, so it kind of does it for me. Now can you just
put my other hand in my lap. There, it's totally dead, I can't
move it at all, so it just lays there demurely in my lap. Now
to the bathroom to beautify myself.
Oh my hair looks awful! Could you brush it for me? There,
brush it gently, I can actually feel my head! I used to love my
long brown hair, but I keep it shoulder length now, to keep it
more manageable. It's not like I can just brush it out of my
eyes! There, that looks good. Now for lipstick, I think that
coral color there is fine. Perfect! And could you spray a
little of that perfume onto my neck? Ah, that smells nice,
thank you. Now, before I go out, I'm hungry!
The kitchen. I used to be quite a cook you know. Before
this. Now I need to be fed, but you don't mind, do you? I'd
like some apple juice, and a bowl of soup. The soup is already
made, in the fridge, just microwave it for a minute. Pour the
apple juice into a cup and put a straw in it, the straws are
right over there by the cookie jar. Now just put the straw into
my mouth. Mmm, that's good. More please. Mmm, I love apple
juice. The soups' done. Can you feed it to me? Thank you so
much. Just blow on it a little and spoon it into my mouth.
Mmm, perfect, Chicken noodle, my favorite. Could I have a
cracker too, they're in that cupboard there, above the stove.
Yes, saltines are fine. Just break them in half and feed them
to me. It's so embarrassing, me a twenty year old being fed
crackers and soup, but since my accident, I've had to adjust to
being a complete invalid. More apple juice please. I don't eat
much, because I really can't burn calories, and I do try to stay
in shape. I may be a total cripple, but I still like to look
nice. Ok, I'm done with lunch, so let's go out. Follow me, we
can take my van.
Just open the side door of the van. Now, hit the green
switch that says down. The lift will do the rest. It takes a
minute or two. What? What was it like to wake up after the
accident? It was very scary. I remembered the accident, and
being hit, and I knew I was hurt, but I didn't feel any pain.
Then I realized I didn't feel anything from the neck down. My
whole body just didn't seem to be there. Then the doctor came
in, and when he said that one word- Quadriplegic- I started to
cry. I just couldn't believe that my whole body was dead,
useless to me now. I tried and tried just to sit up, but I
couldn't move at all. I couldn't even move my head, because
they still had me in a neck brace. My legs were in casts,
because the were both broken in the crash, and for the first
four months out of the hospital I was completely crippled, both
my legs in full casts sticking straight out in front of me, and
at first I had a wheelchair with a mouth control I had to learn
to use, because I didn't have enough control of my left hand
yet. I cried every day, sometimes refusing to get out of bed at
the rehab center I was in. That was when I met Audrey. She was
my age, 18, and had been in an accident on a motorcycle eight
months before. She had lost both her arms at the elbow, and
both her legs just below the crotch, too short for even a
prosthetic. She was even worse off than me, but she was so
nice, and so full of life! She convinced me to start living
again. I can remember when she finally got her prosthetic arms,
she cried with joy, because she could finally control her own
wheelchair. (until then she had been pushed by an orderly.) I
remember looking at her, fiberglass arms and little stumps for
legs, sitting in her wheelchair doing circles in the main rec
room, and I looked down at my own crippled legs, still in casts
straight out before me, and my hands, laying useless in my lap,
and deciding that if this girl, who had lost all her limbs,
could be so happy, than I could too. Audrey and I went shopping
together sometimes, Oh what a sight that made!! Two young girls
in motorized wheelchairs, one with no legs and prosthetic arms,
and the other a quadriplegic wearing stockings and high heeled
shoes in a miniskirt. You see, it was Audrey who always said I
should look my best, no matter what. In the rehab center I'd
wear sweatpants, because they could fit over my casts, and big
shirts, because they were easier for people to put on me. Also,
I didn't want to see my body, because it was so crippled. It
still looked the same, but that didn't matter to me. Audrey
changed all that, thank god. Here's the lift. Now when I'm on
it, hit the other green button, the one that says 'up'.
Now that I'm in the van, can you lock my wheels to the
floor with those straps there. Good. Make sure there tight. Do
you like my van? I figured what the heck, I'll never drive
again, but why not have a nice cruiser for whoever is helping me.
There, let's go shopping. Anyway, where was I in my story. Oh
yes, Audrey and I shopping together.
You see, at the center, after we had progressed well, they
let us go out, with assistants, and get back into society. The
first time Audrey and I went out, we went to a large shopping
center, totally wheelchair accessible. Well, I had decided to
dress up really nice, and I was getting over all that had
happened, so I had them dress me in a nice knee-length skirt, a
light blouse, stockings and high-heeled shoes. You may ask why
high-heels, but even though I'll never walk or move my legs or
feet again, I still like nice shoes. Anyway, this was the first
time I'd worn anything but sneakers, and I wasn't very
experienced with life outside the center. About an hour into
our day, I rolled over a doorjam, one of the low ones sliding
doors ride on, so it was more of a speedbump. Unfortunately,
the bump jarred one of my legs a bit, and that nice high heel
fell off! I didn't know, because naturally I couldn't feel it,
but Audrey, who was behind me, called out and told me I'd
dropped something. When I turned around, she was holding my
shoe in one of her prosthetic hooks! I laughed, but I was
embarrassed, too. I looked down at my legs and saw the one was
hanging at an odd angle and barefoot, and that's when I really
realized my situation. I couldn't feel my legs, couldn't move
my legs, they might as well have not been there. I started to
cry a little, and Audrey wheeled over and gave me a big hug,
then she tried to put my shoe back on. (the assistant with us
was in a store) She couldn't manipulate the dead weight of my
leg with her hooks, and couldn't get the shoe back on, so she
did the next best thing- She pulled my other shoe off! So there
I was, with no shoes on, and I looked down at my crippled,
stockinged feet, now both hanging at odd angles, and started to
laugh. Later on the assistant came back and put my shoes back
on and straightened my legs for me, but I just kept laughing.
She couldn't figure out what was so funny! Well, we're here,
just park up front, I've got handicapped plates, of course.
Now, before I get out of the van, could you fix my legs,
one of them fell off the footrest when we hit a bump, and it's
just hanging there. Yes, that's great. Now, lets' go shopping!
Hi, my name is Laura, how are you? That's good. I'm glad
you came, I really need help, you see, I was in an accident two
years ago, and I'm paralyzed almost completely from the neck
down, I can't move. Oh, it's OK, I've gotten used to it, but I
still need help to do things, which is why I'm glad you came.
First, since I'm just lying here in bed, could you please
dress me? I'd like to go out today, and I' d like to look nice.
In the closet, the red dress, yes, that's it. And could you get
a bra and some stockings from that drawer there, yes, those are
nice. First the stockings, you'll have to lift my legs and
slide them on. Yes, like that, you have to hold my legs because
I have no feeling or control in them, they're totally flaccid.
Yes, They are smooth, I have a nurse come in twice a week to
shave them and other things. Even though I can't move, I'd
still like to look nice for people. There, the stockings look
nice. Yes, my legs are thin, from muscle atrophy, but they
still look OK. I used to dance a lot, and go biking, before my
accident, and my body still looks OK.
Now my bra. For this, lift me up into a sitting position.
Ooh, not so fast, you'll make me dizzy. There, now hold me, I
have no muscle control at all. OK, now lift my arms and put
them through the bra straps. My breasts are still large, and
still firm, even if I can't feel them at all. There, clasp the
bra in the back, yes, like that. Now for the dress.
If you notice, it's specially made for me. Lay me back
down, gently please. As you can see, the dress is open all the
way down the back. to put it on me, lift my arms, one at a
time, and place them in the sleeves. Thank you, yes I think it
is a very pretty dress, I had it made special. I think the low
neckline is especially nice. Now that I'm in it, here comes the
awkward part. The zipper starts at the top, there. Now, sit me
back up and zip it down as far as you can. I can't feel
anything at all, but I'm sure it's right. Now lay me back down.
OK, to zip the rest, roll me sideways, gently. No, I don't
mind, just do it gently. Yes, that's fine. Now you can zip me
up. Done? OK, roll me back.
Now that I'm dressed, could you put me into my wheelchair?
It isn't hard really. first bring the chair up close to the bed
and drop the side rail facing the bed. Yes it is a nice chair,
and light, too, for a powered chair. Yes, the control is on the
handrest, I'll explain that in a minute, after you put me into
it. Ok, now sit me up again. There, that's good. Slide my
legs off the bed. Good. Now slide me over, into the chair, and
fasten the belt. Yes, I need a seat belt to hold me into my
chair, with no control at all, I could just slide out. OK, now
push up the side rail, good. Now place my legs in the legrests,
and try to make them look straight. I can't move them, and I
hate for them to look twisted and crippled, even though they
are. OK, next we finish dressing me.
I need shoes to go out. Those red hoes there, with the
straps, put those on me. Yes, make sure the staps are held
firmly, I don't want my shoes falling off at the store! Now,
you see the small gold chain on the dresser, with the little
ruby pendant? Put that around my neck, there, that's nice. Now
for the last thing, and the answer to your earlier question. Do
you see a nylon wrist brace on the table there. Yes, put it on
my right hand, like that. Ok, good. You see, I'm not totally
paralyzed, I've regained partial movement in my left arm and
hand, at least enough to drive my chair. The brace is just
because I still really can't control my hand enough to grip the
control stick, so it kind of does it for me. Now can you just
put my other hand in my lap. There, it's totally dead, I can't
move it at all, so it just lays there demurely in my lap. Now
to the bathroom to beautify myself.
Oh my hair looks awful! Could you brush it for me? There,
brush it gently, I can actually feel my head! I used to love my
long brown hair, but I keep it shoulder length now, to keep it
more manageable. It's not like I can just brush it out of my
eyes! There, that looks good. Now for lipstick, I think that
coral color there is fine. Perfect! And could you spray a
little of that perfume onto my neck? Ah, that smells nice,
thank you. Now, before I go out, I'm hungry!
The kitchen. I used to be quite a cook you know. Before
this. Now I need to be fed, but you don't mind, do you? I'd
like some apple juice, and a bowl of soup. The soup is already
made, in the fridge, just microwave it for a minute. Pour the
apple juice into a cup and put a straw in it, the straws are
right over there by the cookie jar. Now just put the straw into
my mouth. Mmm, that's good. More please. Mmm, I love apple
juice. The soups' done. Can you feed it to me? Thank you so
much. Just blow on it a little and spoon it into my mouth.
Mmm, perfect, Chicken noodle, my favorite. Could I have a
cracker too, they're in that cupboard there, above the stove.
Yes, saltines are fine. Just break them in half and feed them
to me. It's so embarrassing, me a twenty year old being fed
crackers and soup, but since my accident, I've had to adjust to
being a complete invalid. More apple juice please. I don't eat
much, because I really can't burn calories, and I do try to stay
in shape. I may be a total cripple, but I still like to look
nice. Ok, I'm done with lunch, so let's go out. Follow me, we
can take my van.
Just open the side door of the van. Now, hit the green
switch that says down. The lift will do the rest. It takes a
minute or two. What? What was it like to wake up after the
accident? It was very scary. I remembered the accident, and
being hit, and I knew I was hurt, but I didn't feel any pain.
Then I realized I didn't feel anything from the neck down. My
whole body just didn't seem to be there. Then the doctor came
in, and when he said that one word- Quadriplegic- I started to
cry. I just couldn't believe that my whole body was dead,
useless to me now. I tried and tried just to sit up, but I
couldn't move at all. I couldn't even move my head, because
they still had me in a neck brace. My legs were in casts,
because the were both broken in the crash, and for the first
four months out of the hospital I was completely crippled, both
my legs in full casts sticking straight out in front of me, and
at first I had a wheelchair with a mouth control I had to learn
to use, because I didn't have enough control of my left hand
yet. I cried every day, sometimes refusing to get out of bed at
the rehab center I was in. That was when I met Audrey. She was
my age, 18, and had been in an accident on a motorcycle eight
months before. She had lost both her arms at the elbow, and
both her legs just below the crotch, too short for even a
prosthetic. She was even worse off than me, but she was so
nice, and so full of life! She convinced me to start living
again. I can remember when she finally got her prosthetic arms,
she cried with joy, because she could finally control her own
wheelchair. (until then she had been pushed by an orderly.) I
remember looking at her, fiberglass arms and little stumps for
legs, sitting in her wheelchair doing circles in the main rec
room, and I looked down at my own crippled legs, still in casts
straight out before me, and my hands, laying useless in my lap,
and deciding that if this girl, who had lost all her limbs,
could be so happy, than I could too. Audrey and I went shopping
together sometimes, Oh what a sight that made!! Two young girls
in motorized wheelchairs, one with no legs and prosthetic arms,
and the other a quadriplegic wearing stockings and high heeled
shoes in a miniskirt. You see, it was Audrey who always said I
should look my best, no matter what. In the rehab center I'd
wear sweatpants, because they could fit over my casts, and big
shirts, because they were easier for people to put on me. Also,
I didn't want to see my body, because it was so crippled. It
still looked the same, but that didn't matter to me. Audrey
changed all that, thank god. Here's the lift. Now when I'm on
it, hit the other green button, the one that says 'up'.
Now that I'm in the van, can you lock my wheels to the
floor with those straps there. Good. Make sure there tight. Do
you like my van? I figured what the heck, I'll never drive
again, but why not have a nice cruiser for whoever is helping me.
There, let's go shopping. Anyway, where was I in my story. Oh
yes, Audrey and I shopping together.
You see, at the center, after we had progressed well, they
let us go out, with assistants, and get back into society. The
first time Audrey and I went out, we went to a large shopping
center, totally wheelchair accessible. Well, I had decided to
dress up really nice, and I was getting over all that had
happened, so I had them dress me in a nice knee-length skirt, a
light blouse, stockings and high-heeled shoes. You may ask why
high-heels, but even though I'll never walk or move my legs or
feet again, I still like nice shoes. Anyway, this was the first
time I'd worn anything but sneakers, and I wasn't very
experienced with life outside the center. About an hour into
our day, I rolled over a doorjam, one of the low ones sliding
doors ride on, so it was more of a speedbump. Unfortunately,
the bump jarred one of my legs a bit, and that nice high heel
fell off! I didn't know, because naturally I couldn't feel it,
but Audrey, who was behind me, called out and told me I'd
dropped something. When I turned around, she was holding my
shoe in one of her prosthetic hooks! I laughed, but I was
embarrassed, too. I looked down at my legs and saw the one was
hanging at an odd angle and barefoot, and that's when I really
realized my situation. I couldn't feel my legs, couldn't move
my legs, they might as well have not been there. I started to
cry a little, and Audrey wheeled over and gave me a big hug,
then she tried to put my shoe back on. (the assistant with us
was in a store) She couldn't manipulate the dead weight of my
leg with her hooks, and couldn't get the shoe back on, so she
did the next best thing- She pulled my other shoe off! So there
I was, with no shoes on, and I looked down at my crippled,
stockinged feet, now both hanging at odd angles, and started to
laugh. Later on the assistant came back and put my shoes back
on and straightened my legs for me, but I just kept laughing.
She couldn't figure out what was so funny! Well, we're here,
just park up front, I've got handicapped plates, of course.
Now, before I get out of the van, could you fix my legs,
one of them fell off the footrest when we hit a bump, and it's
just hanging there. Yes, that's great. Now, lets' go shopping!
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