The Accident
by
Bill Lemieux
Part 6
August 2nd.
Since I can go out now during the day without either been struck rigid or coming
unglued, I have been sneaking to the library to look into this problem of ours.
Jurgen bitches and moans about being stuck in bed at home, but I remind him of
what it was like for me, and he is shamed into silence. I have to wear a long
coat, slacks, a wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses if it's bright outside, but I
manage. A little light still falls on my face, and it feels very nice of
course, but I can ignore it enough to function.
I found some interesting stuff in the medical stacks though. Hormones. It seems
that some hormones given to women for other purposes were noted to increase
vaginal secretions as a side effect. The only trouble is, how in hell do we get
hormones without a prescription. I'm sure they'd be awfully curious about why
the esteemed (and very male) physicist wanted female hormones. Sigh.
August 8th.
It seems that many of the simpler female hormones are also given to animals
(human hormones work on animals? Hard to believe, but...). I am looking into
this.
Jurgen is keeping busy by ordering some custom garments and toys for us from
some of our favorite catalogs. He won't tell me what they are, and his mischief
is refreshing to me- at least he's in good spirits, generally.
August 11th.
Yes, there are human hormones being given to cattle, and yes, I have managed to
score some from a veterinary supply store, although the clerk there gave me some
strange looks. I tried dressing as "hick" as I could, but I don't think she
believe me. I have what appears to be a _huge_ supply, and the shelf life if
refrigerated is _years_. I haven't told Jurgen, he'd flip if he knew I was
going to inject myself with hormones hormones not approved for human use. I've
stripped some of the warning labels off the bottle...
August 17th.
Jurgen is back at work. That about says it all. And I need to go lie out in
the sun- I'm bushed. My hubby wore me out last night, but he also seems to have
had his fill. He went a little nuts, and at one point he was just grinning up
at me, wild-eyed, as he shuddered and quaked on the bed. He looked like some
crazed drug fiend, but he was hale and healthy, and he proved it several times
last night. Wow! We're back in the saddle again, it seems! The only side
effect I've noticed from the hormones has been a slight tenderness in my
breasts- at least, I assume it's the hormones- I don't have any lumps. It's not
painful, but I hope it goes away. If it doesn't, I'll go in for x-rays. I
should add that while the hormones have increased my secretion a little, it
hasn't been a whole lot. Jurgen had more energy this morning, but he still
seemed a little tired (probably because he spent all his energy wearing ME out
last night, the brute!), but really, it seems as though he gets more fun and
stimulation, than real nutrition or energy from eating me.
August 19th.
The tenderness in my breasts hasn't gone away, in fact if anything, it's gotten
worse, and they have begun to feel a bit swollen and taught. I went to the
clinic this morning, and they took x-rays, but they showed nothing suspicious or
unhealthy. They wanted to do a complete physical, but I immediately imagined
myself the center of a major medical inquiry, locked in a lab somewhere. I
panicked and got out of there as fast as I could without raising suspicion. I
am not sure, but I think they (my breasts) have grown some, too. I'm relieved,
but still concerned. Jurgen came home pretty tired today, and it was all I
could do to hold up my end in bed. I was still tired (and sore, I admit) from
the night before! We are having sex more often and longer, than we ever did,
even when everything was normal, just to keep him up and going. Despite that,
he is still not back up to full steam.
August 20th.
Dear Diary,
Mystery solved, with happy consequences. I am lactating! Jurgen was sucking on
my nipples last night, and to his surprise, got milk. And guess what! It seems
to be even more energizing (if not nearly so stimulating) as my come, and he
swears it is delicious and better than cow's milk. I tried some, and was
unimpressed- very sweet, though. The greedy hunk sucked me dry though, and low
and behold, the discomfort disappeared. I guess I know something of what it
feels like to be a mommy now. Oh, and they are quite definitely larger,
probably from all that milk they have to store.
Today, a package arrived in the mail from one of our fetish goods suppliers, but
Jurgen had anticipated it's arrival and forbade me to open it. He said it
wasn't finished, and he would have to work on it before he would be ready to
show it off. I think I know something of what he is up to. This evening, he
took off for work on the excuse that he had left some important papers at the
office. After he left, I noticed the parcel was missing. Men are so
transparent.
When he got back, he finally revealed what he had done. He had had two pairs of
custom "adoration breeches" made- those rubber pants with a hood attached at the
crotch, so someone can be "forced" to service you orally. These were mutually
useful, in that the helmet was attached upside-down, so that two people could be
wearing _each_other's_ breeches! They are made of very heavy rubber, and have
plenty of breathing holes around the crotch and nose. Plus, he took one of his
own suits to work and exposed it to the same program. We tested these toys out
and they all work in exactly the same fashion as my suit used to.
Speaking of that suit, he has finished putting in the new zipper, which is small
but strong, and air-tight- it's made for diver's "dry suits". He will expose the
suit tomorrow during lunch. He is getting quite brazen, I think, but he seems
worried about getting access to the machine- apparently the higher-ups are
tightening security. Seems asinine to me, after all, he invented the thing!
I can't wait to try these new things of his this weekend!
Anyway, I'm very happy to see him rosy-cheeked and brimming over with energy.
August 23rd
Dear Diary. It is Sunday, a day of rest for both Christians and my husband and
I. It is also a day to reflect on bad news, and our very good luck. Friday,
Jurgen took my suit and a whole pile of other things into work in that huge
briefcase of his. He got them modified all right, and back into his case, but
he also got caught by one of the new managers who demanded to know what he was
doing in that part of the lab.
My dear retorted, rather hotly of course, that he had developed that machine,
and he had more right to be there than the paper pusher did. That was when the
general walked in. That's right, general, as in Army officer. It seems that
some word had gotten out, the military had got wind of his little invention, and
the place was crawling with military spook-types. They were sewing the project
up tight as fast as they could.
He barely made it off the site with the goodies without getting his bags
inspected, but the guards are just rent-a-cops so far, and they aren't used to
the new procedures they are supposed to be following. In other words, he got
lucky.
Jurgen has already protested bitterly about the militarization of the project
and the lab, but I think he realizes it was only a matter of time. He has
threatened to quit his job, which means retirement really, which I wouldn't mind
one bit, but I don't think they are taking him seriously. I know better- I saw
the expression on his face while he was yelling at the senior lab manager on the
phone Friday night.
Anyway, we spent a delightful day lying in the sun yesterday. Sounds so
peaceful and innocent, doesn't it? Hee-hee! Of course, what really happened
was much more prurient, and if the truth be told, quite out of the realm of
everyday human sensuality. I think most people would have considered it a
religious experience. What we shared yesterday, the places we reached inside
each other, cannot be expressed in words. I'll explain it in physical terms
though, just to get the hot little details down between your steaming pages.
As I wrote here before, Jurgen had made (or rather, had ordered) those two pairs
of adoration pants from Remma-wear, and had modified his own suit with the DSM
to be just like mine. We experimented with it some on Friday night, during a
little stress-relief session of love making. His suit is just like mine used to
be, neck-entry, which can be used with different hoods. Naturally, he exposed
several hoods and the suit separately, so we wouldn't wind up with the material
flowing together like mine did. I wonder how... oh, never mind.
In any case, I picked up two breast pumps, those things nursing mothers
sometimes use, and Jurgen has made a bizarre "milking machine" brassiere out of
them. They are built into an old heavy-gauge rubber brassier of mine, with the
original cups removed. He's attached hoses to each one, which go to a small
suction pump and some kind of valve that pulses the suction. The thing felt
weird yet wonderful at first, and seemed to make my breasts swell up even more,
but once the milk started flowing, it was a great relief- now I can milk myself
and save it for him for later. Which is precisely what I had done Friday night-
saved a whole pitcher of milk. Jurgen has always been the top in our
relationship, which is fine with me, but he agreed to let me put him in his
"rigidized" suit, just to see what it was like. (We found out, a little to his
chagrin, that light falling on the suit doesn't do a thing for him, as mine does
for me, but that's small loss considering what he _does_ have that I don't.)
So anyway, I had a brainstorm, and fetched the milk. Not only did I pour it
into the suit with him, letting him squirm around in it for a while, but I
hooked up an enema bag and hose, ran it into his helmet in place of the
breathing tube, and "force fed" him his dinner. He loved it! From the noises
he was making, I'm sure he would have been thrashing around if it hadn't been
for the solid restraint of his suit. Later, he told me that even having the
milk against his skin had felt wonderful, with powerful tingling sensations and
flashes of sexual warmth coming from his skin, as if he was absorbing it without
even swallowing it. Well who knows, maybe he is. He said he came for what felt
like minutes.
The breast size thing is starting to bug me, however. When I milked myself
yesterday, I gave more milk than I ever have before and yet looking in the
mirror afterwards, I realized my tits were bigger _still_, even though I had
drained them completely. I have already reduced the hormone dosage, because I'm
quite happy with them the way they are. Of course, Jurgen, being somewhat of a
breast fetishist, is tickled pink.
So anyway, I haven't described Saturday yet, our big day of decadence. We had
planned it all the night before, lying in bed and talking after our little
session Friday. We got up early, just before dawn in fact, and made our
preparations. We took a big air mattress that we used to keep around for guests
out onto the back lawn, laid blankets out and so forth, and then got dressed.
We each put on our special suits, and one pair of the adoration breeches, and
went outside to await the sunrise.
As the sky grew lighter, I grew lighter-headed, and before the sun was even up,
it was becoming very difficult to concentrate on the job at hand, and both our
suits were becoming slightly stiff. We moved fast. I lay on my back on the
mattress, while Jurgen crawled on top and astride me, then we each struggled
into the helmet of the other's adoration pants.
We moved around a bit, getting comfortable, each of us with the other's sex in
our mouth, while the sky grew lighter and the suits and pants got stiffer. In
minutes, we were trapped, the rubber turned rigid, and as the first rays of the
direct sun fell on me, I completely forgot what I had filling my mouth. I was
in ecstasy again. Of course, as part of that, I lubricated freely, and Jurgen
slurped it up greedily, his groans and moans reaching me faintly through the
layers of rubber and my own personal haze of pleasure. At some point, I
remember felating him in a distracted sort of way, and I know we both came many,
many times that day, some of those times seeming to blur into one long,
continuous, and simultaneous orgasm for both of us. We must have made one very
bizarre looking piece of lawn sculpture, had anyone been able to see us.
By the time we could move again, as the last shreds of daylight fled from our
lawn, we were both physical and emotional wrecks- very happy, sated, but utterly
drained and exhausted.
Which delightful state we are still in today. A deep lassitude and happy
paralysis having taken us, we are lazing around in bed, not really wanting to do
anything at all. Jurgen is sketching, toying with some new ideas for bondage
gear, although it seems obvious that we will no longer have access to the DSM,
while I am writing in your cherished pages. My eyes are getting heavy again
though, so I think I shall close for today. Right now, I feel like napping.
September 19th.
Well now. I seem to have a dilemma. My breasts have continued to develop at an
alarming rate, considering how few days have passed. I have gone from a D cup
to a DDD in less than a month. I'm not sure if that would normally be possible,
even with the hormones, but of course, I no longer have what anyone would call a
normal physiology. I have had to change bra sizes twice in thirty days, and
while the cost is no problem for us, I'm wondering where it will all stop! It
is good that so much of my kinky wardrobe is made from latex, which has
tremendous stretch, since I am busting out of many of my leather outfits. I
have reduced the hormone dosage even further, and Jurgen has begun to complain
that I'm not secreting enough for him, but I don't know what to do. I can't
just keep getting larger, can I?
PS: Jurgen quit his job at the lab. We are now the youngest retired couple I
know of, and very happy at that. They seem to have wanted to buy his silence,
since they offered him a _huge_ "bonus" for his work on the machine. He was
going to refuse, out of anger and pride, but I talked some sense into him,
pointing out that we could retire quite comfortably on that amount alone, and
that having it on top of his handsome retirement income would make life very
comfortable indeed.
September 29th.
Ten days, and another cup size. This is getting ridiculous. I'm huge! I
haven't gained any weight any where else, even though that is a common side
effect of these hormones, according to the books. My breasts are now the size
of honeydew melons, and my chest is some 50 inches around. I can't find any
brassieres in town that are large enough. Fortunately, one of the foundation
shops gave me the address and phone number of a company that hand makes odd and
extra large sizes, but when I called them, their prices were so high, Jurgen
commented that I might as well just have custom made rubber and leather bras
made. I think I'll do both- after all, I can go out again now, (although we are
still debating how to handle my reappearance) and I'd like to have some normal
bras as well, since wearing fetish clothes all the time takes away from their
spice- one gets used to them.
It is good that Jurgen bought the larger size of breast pumps (which he made
into my "milking machine") because I am nearly filling them now.
October 8th.
No noticeable change in breast size this week. I am keeping my fingers crossed.
Jurgen is having to make do with less from my sex, but he gets more real
nourishment from my milk anyway. As my bust size has grown, it has become more
and more pleasurable to be milked, to the point that I nearly go out of my head
with arousal and lust during the procedure- I came just from having my breasts
pumped today! What's worse (or better, depending on how you look at it) is that
my milk production seems to have gone up proportionately to my bust size, so
that I now need milking at least twice a day. I feel like a dairy cow! Jurgen
is delighted with my new figure (he _would_ be) and I admit, I am getting used
to it, although I still feel like a freak of nature. I have kept the rest of me
in shape though, and when corsetted, I cut a very imposing, if somewhat
unbelievable figure!
We have decided to announce to friends and family that we are getting back
together, that the "divorce" was all a horrible mistake, and that my ridiculous
breast enlargement is the result of a rare hormonal disorder. I hope they buy
it. If not, they can just wonder, because they'll never hear the truth from us!
My sweet heart finally got around to showing off some of the other items he had
"treated" with the DSM before they shut him out of the lab. The most striking
was the clear rubber suit. He had made one of my regular suits crystal clear,
just like that sample he had done. It's weird and eerie- when I wear it, it
looks like I've been coated with glass. We both love the look.
Another interesting pair are the gloves and stockings. Remember that inverted
form of the light-sensitive rubber he came up with? He dialed that in and
treated a pair of my thicker gloves, and a pair of old but heavy gauge
stockings. He also treated a thick rubber leotard with the other program. So
if I wear them, I can move my arms and legs when the light is on, but my torso
is held rigid. When the light goes out, they turn rigid, and my torso is free
to bend.
This morning he had me put my suit on, put one stocking on my right leg, and one
glove on the left arm, then commanded me to make brunch. But the fiend had
turned all the lights in the house topsy-turvy, with one room dark, blinds
drawn, and the next brightly lit. Imagine trying to walk around like that, when
one leg and one arm is stuck in one position for a while, and moments later,
they are free and the others are stuck! The kitchen was worse (and even more
comical to watch I am sure) since we have track lighting there, and he had
turned them in all different directions, but had taken the bulbs out of the main
area lights.
Needless to say, I was hot, tired and frustrated by the time the food was ready,
but the dear rewarded me nicely this afternoon however, so I have forgiven him.
November 11th.
We have decided to move. Jurgen is afraid we will both find ourselves in hot
water, if the truth is ever discovered about the changes he has wrought in our
physiologies. The house is on the market, and as soon as it is sold, we are
moving to Amsterdam. Life has gotten awfully busy as a result, so this may be
the last entry in a long while.
fini
