The Accident
by
Bill Lemieux
Part 4
February 20th.
Dear Diary,
I took another break from writing. It's hard sometimes, looking back, and
wondering how I could have been so stupid as to get myself into this position.
Not to mention thinking about the future, and what will become of me. I was
thirty-two when the accident occurred. How long do I have now?
Geez, this is becoming a book all by itself! Poor diary, it looks like I'm
running out of pages, and I might have to continue this in another binder.
Don't worry, it will still be a part of you- a part of my life. Perhaps I shall
put all of this into one big story some day and have it published. There would
be no danger, although I'm sure Jurgen would never agree to it. After who would
believe it- it's too fantastic! My husband has been keeping tabs on the project
that caused all this, and there hasn't been anything really new discovered. But
I'm getting ahead of myself again. I was telling you about the accident. We
had just gotten home, and Jurgen had tried to get the suit off me, with no luck
at all...
"In the meantime, you should try to relax. You've had a long day. Why don't I
put you to bed?"
I allowed as how that might be a good idea. He turned down the lights and
helped me up the stairs to the bedroom. I admit, the sensation I experienced
just from climbing the stairs nearly made me come half way there. He tried to
tuck me into bed, but I was all over him as soon as he let me go. Between the
trip home, and the brief hike up the stairs, I was raring to go, and I let him
know in no uncertain terms. I suppose I was doing a slow boil even downstairs,
but my nervousness at being trapped had preoccupied me. I guess I'd decided I
would be okay, because I'd forgotten all about that now. I pushed him onto his
back, and nearly tore his pants from him. I did pop a few buttons getting his
shirt off before I attacked his nipples. He moaned and crushed my latex
-encased head against his chest. I slipped out of his hands and slid my
attentions lower, licking along the way to my goal.
When I got there, he was already at attention, his gorgeous cock pulsing in time
to his heartbeat, a tiny drop of pre-come glistening on the tip. Jurgen does NOT
do that unless he has been aroused for a while. I knew then that he must have
been as turned on as I was at my "predicament", but had been suppressing it
while he worried about how to get me out.
I serviced him with complete abandon, wiggling as I did so, for with every
squirm and shimmy, hot waves of pleasure, like surges of liquid electricity,
shot through me. I had never enjoyed giving head more, and I'm sure it must
have showed in my performance.
Before he could come however, he pushed me off of him, and in a husky voice,
ordered me to stretch out on the bed. Ah, this was more like the old Jurgen!
It had been so long... I stretched out, and he positioned me spread-eagle, as if
her were going to tie my limbs to the bed posts for the hundredth time. But
once he had me the way he wanted, he simply walked over and turned on the light!
Instantly, I was frozen in that position, immobilized as never before.
"Don't go anywhere," he said with a brief smile, before I heard his footsteps
pounding downstairs. He reappeared moments later with the pump gag I had worn
to the lab.
"Gee, bored with my mouth so soon, dear?" I'm such a card- I just _had_ to
shoot my mouth off. He didn't reply, just stuffed in the bladder and snapped
the flange into place. I hummed softly with delight as he pumped it up. I do
so love being gagged, and there is nothing so satisfyingly mouth-filling as a
well-made pump gag. The bladder filled my mouth to capacity, and the effect was
made even more severe, given that my cheeks and jaw were unable to expand, due
to the now-rigid hood. I moaned as the pressure increased, and was startled to
hear how quiet the sound was. This material absorbed sound quite well. Jurgen
took my moan as a cue, and stopped pumping.
I could see that the whole situation had my sweetheart in a terrible state of
arousal. He was shaking slightly, and his cock stood out stiff, despite the
lack of attention paid to it in the last few minutes. It was pulsing slightly
with his heartbeat, as hard and large as I'd ever seen it.
When he was finished pumping, he climbed back onto the bed with me, and to my
disappointment, did not enter me immediately. I was ready, oh, how I was ready,
and it was obvious he was too, but my dear sadistic husband had other plans.
It's a sign of his love for me that he put my pleasure ahead of his own. He lay
down next to me, and using one hand, began to gently tug and tweak the rings in
my sex. He avoided my knob, damn him, instead teasing everything else, getting
as close to my clit as he could without actually touching it.
I squirmed and writhed inside my hard, shiny prison, and each movement amplified
the pleasure he gave me as waves of sexual energy shot out from my skin where it
rubbed inside the suit. I could see that this new set of erogenous zones would
be a real problem if I didn't get out of the suit!
Finally, he let go my outer sex, and gently flicked my clit ring with the end of
his finger. After only a few flicks, I was ready to explode, and I tried to let
him know with the incoherent noises I was making through the gag, but it was no
use. Finally, just as I thought I would die from excitement, he stopped, and
climbed on top of me quickly. All at once and nothing first, he rammed into me
up to the hilt in one thrust. The hot thickness of him, and his pubic bone
crushing against my clit was all that I needed, and I was off on the wildest
ride of my life (at least at that point), my rigidly held body spasming and
convulsing against the hard confines of my suit. After a few seconds of this,
my forebrain hung up the "Out To Lunch" sign, and I ceased to think, just
revelling in the ecstasy as wave after wave of climax and spending rolled over
me.
After some unknown time, (Jurgen told me later I came for a minute or so), I
realized he hadn't moved at all since that first urgent thrust. As soon as he
did, starting before I was even wound down from my first set of climaxes, I was
off again, coming almost continuously as he pounded relentlessly into my greedy,
twitching sex.
I think I passed out.
When I became aware again, the lights were low, the pump gag was no filling my
mouth, and I could move again. Jurgen's face was hovering over mine.
"All you all right?"
"Mmmm," I answered, as I looked around for the part of my brain that did the
talking, "ahh, yes. I'm very much `all right'. I love you."
"I love you too, hon. Can I towel you off? We seem to have made a mess."
I giggled. "Okay." As he rubbed gently at my crotch (we kept old towels in the
underdresser of the bed for "sex towels"), I clamped my thighs on his hand.
"Wait. Take it easy, I'm still a little sensitive."
He climbed off me, smiled, and said, "I'll be right back. Will you be okay?"
I nodded, thinking it unusual for him to climb out of bed so soon after sex.
One nice thing about my husband, he always stays with me, cuddling and talking,
if I want, after sex. One of the biggest complaints I've heard from the few
other wives I've talked to about sex, is that their husbands always either roll
over and go to sleep, or jump out of bed to go do something, and don't
understand why you'd want to just lie there and cuddle quietly for an hour.
I got more and more irked as the clock ticked on (actually, our bedside clock is
a digital electronic one, but you know what I mean) and no hubby. But I forgave
him instantly, as he appeared about fifteen minutes later, carrying a tray laden
with two steaming mugs, and a plate of Pfeffernuse cookies, Jurgen's specialty.
That's right, my darling, on top of all his other talents, can cook too. With
the exception of not being much of an athlete, he is such a renaissance man.
Setting the tray on the bedside table, he clambered back into the bed with me,
and though I could move just fine, insisted on feeding me himself, alternating
little sips of hot chocolate laced with peppermint schnapps, and bites of
cookie. I was in heaven, and not having to move at all allowed me to relax
completely. After a mug of that potent concoction, I went out like a light.
-=O=-
August 3rd.
Dear Diary,
It has been nearly six months now since The Accident, as we have come to call
it. As you may have guessed by now, dear Diary, all the rest of his attempts to
remove the suit, or even to scratch it, have been fruitless. Oh sure, he tried
everything short of killing me. He went back to the lab and tried making more
of the material. It didn't work. Well, strictly speaking, that's not true.
Once it turned a piece of the same exact latex into a puddle of foul smelling
liquid, but that wasn't exactly helpful. We both agree that it would be
extremely foolish, not to mention quite dangerous, to expose me to the machine
again. So that's out. He has tried stretching it away from my body and cutting
it with a torch. It turns out the suit conducts heat very well. The whole
thing got uncomfortably hot pretty fast, and the torch didn't even leave a mark
on it.
I've gotten used to the suit though. I know I may very likely spend the rest of
my life in it. I've adjusted to the idea, and well, there are some really nice
benefits. I'm beginning to think of it as a part of me. When I look in the
mirror, I see the same thing every day, and to me, it's just the way my body
looks now.
We've figured out that some profound changes have happened to me, and not just
the fact that my entire body is now an erogenous zone. Like Jurgen's rabbit at
the lab, I haven't been eating. I haven't even been hungry. I haven't had to
go to the bathroom (thank God!) and apparently, I'm not even sweating. I should
have started smelling bad, not to mention itching, after being trapped in the
suit for only a few days (without a bath), but that has never happened. I think
my nails have stopped growing, too.
There is something else though, and it's implications are so frightening, I
didn't tell my husband for two days after I figured it out.
I know now where I am getting my energy. The question arose as soon as I
stopped eating, because let's face it, _something_ was keeping me alive and
warm, if it wasn't food.
It's light.
Somehow, the suit itself (I think) is feeding me, keeping me renewed, who knows,
perhaps even keeping me young, by absorbing light, and then doing... well,
whatever it does.
To test this, I stayed in the dark a whole day and on into that night. By
evening I felt weak and dizzy. As soon as Jurgen turned on the lights, I felt
an intense tingling warmth all over me, and within minutes I felt much better.
When he took me down to the kitchen, which has better lighting, the feeling got
much stronger- in fact, it felt really good.
Jurgen got a big work light from his shop and played it across me and the
sensations were incredible! It was very similar to how I felt during The
Accident itself, although no where near the intensity. We have played with this
phenomenon a few times since, as a reward to me when I've been good. "When I
have been good." Hee-hee! Yes, diary, we have been getting more and more into
the dominance and submission side of the kinky games we have always played.
We have heavy drapes on all the windows now, and dimmers on all the lights so I
can move around the house. But Jurgen can always immobilize me totally,
whenever he wishes, with the twist of a knob. Whenever he is at work I have
been staying indoors during the day, out of paranoia I suppose, even though our
nearest neighbors are miles away on the other side of the ridge, and we never
get uninvited guests. We both know that I'm now a scientific curiosity, and
neither one of us wants me to become a guinea pig in some secret government
laboratory.
Unfortunately, we had to spread the word that he and I have gotten a divorce,
and that I moved away immediately, otherwise it would be awkward when guests
came to visit. There would be too many questions.
But anyway, I had been playing with light a lot when Jurgen was at work. We have
this big police flashlight in the kitchen drawer that is very bright. The
feelings I got by playing over my "skin" were incredible. I could shine it on
just one breast, and get the same sensations emanating from there as I do when I
ah, "jill off".
So a few weeks ago, I decided I just had to try out direct sunlight. I knew
Jurgen would have fits, because of what might happen if someone discovered me,
but really, no one ever came to the house any more, except for the occasionally
parcel delivery man, and we weren't expecting any packages. And besides, it was
one of those times when Jurgen was busy on the project again, and I'd been
suffering a lack of his attentions lately. We already knew, through fooling
around with the flashlight, that the only parts of the suit that are affected by
light or dark are the ones that are exposed. In other words, I can stick my arm
in a lighted closet, and it becomes rigid, but not the rest of the suit.
So a few weeks ago, I left Jurgen a note on the refrigerator telling him he
could find me in the back yard. I dug out one of our oldest toys, a leather
body bag with a drawstring top that was in poor condition, and cut the bottom
out of it. I pulled it on over me, with my head poking through the top, and
snugged the string around my neck. The bag reached the floor, covering my feet.
I went outside, into the back yard. As soon as the sun hit me, my neck and head
went rigid, and a tremendous, indescribably delicious sensation sprang up all
around the area. There was a sort of rushing hum, like a chorus of voices, in
my ears. As I walked, I could feel my booted feet alternately going rigid, then
softening (somewhat- they had never been all that soft), and little pulses of
electric joy shot up from them as they peeked out from under the bag. I walked
into the middle of the yard, where I knew I'd be well-lit for the next eight
hours or so.
I loosened the string at my neck, spread my feet a little and dug my heels into
the grass. I hesitated. The wonderful feelings from my feet and head and neck
made me wonder whether I could stand the full effect without going nuts. What I
was about to do might make me crazy. But I wanted it. Oh God, diary, how I
wanted it. I screwed my courage to the sticking point, let go of the string and
dropped my arms. The bag slid down my body, and I felt the suit stiffen as the
light reached the rest of it. And as the full warmth of the sun hit the suit, I
gasped in shock and mindless delight as the electrified tongues of a thousand
phantom lovers closed upon my body. Rational thought left me, and within
seconds, I came.
I came and came and came, mentally and physically and spiritually, in an
unending and relentless orgasm that went beyond the merely physical sensations
of sex and swept away my mind on waves of joy and delight and climax and
spending, on and on and on.
The first thing I remember after dropping the bag was Jurgen looking at me from
a few feet away. The sun must have set, although the sky was still light, and
the suit was still rigid. The sensations had reduced in intensity quite a bit
however- I could think somewhat clearly again. The look on my husband's face
was inscrutable, however. I was so weak he had to carry me inside, which wasn't
easy, as I've said before. As soon as I gathered my wits somewhat, I began to
cry.
"Honey, what's wrong?" he asked, but I think he already knew the answer.
"That was so beautiful, so perfect, so... so much. I want it back. I don't
ever want it to end." I knew how I sounded. I had heard begging like that when
I had worked as a volunteer in a drug rehabilitation center.
I am an addict.
But my husband's love has helped me through it. Though he is physically
ordinary, emotionally Jurgen must be the strongest husband any woman could have.
He keeps me happy. The sex is still great, although after that one day, I
thought I would never want ordinary sex (or kinky sex for that matter) again.
But the body forgets with time, and I still feel incredible pleasure just from
walking around.
Jurgen seems to be happy with our sex life, although I think he's a little
jealous of the heights of pleasure I am capable of reaching that are forever
denied to him. I have begun to worry about him.
-=O=-
June 21st.
Dear Diary,
It has been nearly a year since I last wrote. Life has been up and down. For a
while the physical differences between myself and Jurgen, and the terrible
isolation imposed upon me by the suit seemed almost too much to bear for both of
us. But what could I do, where could I go? I spent a long time thinking
suicidal thoughts, but eventually, I pulled through it. Our relationship has
improved, we are sleeping together, playing together again. And now, there
appears to be a light at the end of the tunnel at last.
Last night I awoke to the sound of muttering.
The room was dimly lit, and I sat up to find Jurgen hunched over the little desk
we have in the corner of our bedroom. We use it mostly for writing letters. The
light in the room came from the lamp on the desk. He was writing or drawing
something, and occasionally talking to himself. Jurgen almost never talks to
himself unless he is intent on some very important project. I wondered what he
might be up to.
I sat up on one elbow and said, "What are you working on, hon?"
He answered without looking up.
"We had a breakthrough at the lab. Siegfried, he's our math whiz you know, came
up with some formulas to describe how the D.S.M. machine works. With them, we
should be able to calibrate and control it more accurately, by an order of
magnitude."
"Oh. Well then... wait a minute," I said, "does that mean there's any chance
you can duplicate my suit material? Or the effects it had on my body?"
"It means, my dear, that we'll be able to produce any effect we want, within the
limits of physical laws... and hopefully, reverse them as well."
Finally, he turned away from the desk and looked at me.
"Does that mean what I think it means?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Will it be safe?"
"I'm certain of it. Look. Um, you know how I feel about the accident," he
began. I interrupted him.
"And YOU know how I feel. I'm as happy as I ever was! I admit, I'd like a
change of pace... I mean, I'd like to be able to... well, it would be nice just
to feel your skin against mine again..."
"Yes. That's what I mean. This thing is keeping us apart. It's driving me
crazy! I'd be happy if you were well, normal again, or for that matter, if I
was just like you! But... I need to know what you want."
"I want you to be happy," I said, and I meant it. "I want us to be able to
share each other completely. If that means you becoming like me, fine. If it
means me becoming normal again, so be it."
"All right. But I think I can work it out so we can have the best of both
worlds..."
I was sleepy, and my eyes were drooping. "Okay dear, but why don't you come to
bed?" I glanced at the clock. "It's three A.M.!"
He came to bed, and we cuddled together and slept. My dreams were full of
bizarre bondage devices, cackling mad scientists, and incongruously, rubber
mermaids.
...to be continued in part5
