An unusual medical fetish story about a perfectly mobile lesbian woman who likes to pretend she needs crutches and leg braces, and tells people she had Polio as a child.
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A 20 min 26 sec recording.
I should have known not to buy these cheap shoes, but they were so cute! White sandals with little pink and blue highlights on the straps and four-inch heels. Cute or not, one of the heels was working loose, and I hate that! I’m very particular about my footwear. OK, I have a shoe fetish, sort of.
Well, what do you know? There’s a shoe store in this block I never noticed before, and it looks like my kind of store: Christopher’s Beautiful Shoes. Oh, my. I could spend the day in here, but I have a lunch appointment in about ten minutes—good thing I’m early.
I decide on a pair of replacement sandals in pink with little narrow straps and this time about a half inch of platform sole with the four-inch heels. I wear them out of the store, tossing my old ones in the trash and these are very comfortable—they should be for the price—not that it really matters if they are, well, cute. And they are!
I smile because I’m in a good mood and because I know Gloria will notice them. She and I bonded over shoes when my then-husband fixed her up with one of his friends and neither relationship worked out, but our friendship did and now here we are having lunch.
Actually, I have a hidden agenda. I have come to terms with my sexuality, and the truth is that I really don’t want to be with a man, I want to be with a woman. Actually, I’m hoping Gloria is up for it because I have always thought she was just about the prefect woman. She’s soft where I’m hard, she has perfect, and I mean perfect, breasts, a shapely rear and fantastic legs. Sure, I have great legs, but my butt is small and my B-cup breasts just don’t quite measure up to hers.
I knew I had great looking legs when I was a little girl. I started wearing heels when I was twelve! Mom had a fit at first, but they looked great on me and she could tell I wasn’t going to have great boobs, so I won. My legs are long, slender, and straight.
OK, that’s the other thing. My big, big secret from the world is that I have sort of an alter ego. In my secret world I am handicapped—crippled. I wear sensible shoes (it’s always about the shoes! GIGGLE), and I wear steel and leather braces on my legs that fit into channels in the flat heels of my shoes and strap around the tops of my thighs. Polio braces. I also use Warm Springs crutches and I have a very cute little Quickie lightweight wheelchair. I even have a car with hand controls.
When the subject comes up, and it always does, I tell people I had polio. I have a couple of stories about how I got it when almost no one gets it any more. When I have the braces on, I feel like I really am crippled, and I love it, love it. I’m hoping Gloria won’t think I’m totally demented, and that she will be with me when I’m Bella. And here’s the other thing. Being crippled brings me instantly to a very high state of arousal. I don’t mean a little horny, I mean full-on arousal.
My real name is Kady and I’m a chef. Actually, I don’t cook any more, I’m more of a bookkeeper for my three restaurants. I have a trust fund, too, that means I don’t have to work if I don’t want to. I use it for extra things like a nice car with hand controls, custom made braces and crutches, and recently, a restored and renovated two-story cabin on a lovely lake.
I’ve only been to the cabin a few times, but always in braces. It’s going to be my alter-ego home. It is a small town, a village really, and word is already out that the historic cabin was bought by a crippled girl. In our first meeting, the realtor asked me about my legs and I told her I had polio. That’s all it took. Word is all over town.
Good grief! Just thinking about all this is having that effect on me. It starts in my breasts and then pools between my legs, warm, tingly, sensitive. I stop walking a moment to collect myself before entering the restaurant. Glancing down, I see my new shoes—they really are cute!
Gloria and I rip through two really good bottles of Chardonnay and some yummy appetizers. The long and short of it is that before we finished, Gloria was stroking my leg under the table with her bare foot, having removed the to-die-for slingback. I told her about my alter-ego and she didn’t bat an eye. She even asked if she could come to the cabin.
So, I am nervously moving about the cabin, getting ready for Gloria’s arrival. It is warm for this time of year, so I have chosen a sleeveless dress that shows off my nicely toned upper arms from using crutches, with a flared skirt, about knee length. On my legs are shiny steel braces that closely follow the contours of my legs, with taupe leather knee pads and straps buckled around the tops of my thighs. The braces fit into channels in the flat heels of my white mary-janes, and lock at the knees when I straighten them.
I was in my wheelchair when the doorbell rang, so I called out that the door was open and to come on in. Gloria’s jaw dropped open when she saw me, and then stretched into a big smile as she took me in. She leaned down and gave me a hug, then stepped back so we could get a better look at each other. She wore a black and white wrap dress and white platform pumps with seriously high heels. She looked great.
I had told her that I would be totally in character as my alter ego, so there were no questions about braces and polio as we toured the cabin. It was built in 1930 as a fishing lodge, and was eventually left to rot and decline. I saved it and kept as much of the original feel of the place as I could, while upgrading everything, including a pro kitchen. I also added an elevator that goes from the garage level to the other two floors of the cabin and a few wheelchair ramps here and there.
For the tour I stood up from the wheelchair, locking one brace, and using it as leverage to rise, as I lock the other brace. I have practiced, and it looks very realistic. I navigate the house without crutches or canes, and we head out for lunch. I insist on taking my car because, with my handicapped plates, I get better parking! And I wanted Gloria to see me drive with hand controls.
At the restaurant, I tell the valet he can either use the pedals or the hand controls, and pull the Warm Springs crutches off the back seat. During lunch, I notice Gloria is calling me Bella. I’m hoping that is a sign she’s really into this whole thing.
After a very nice lunch we walk casually through the village, buying a few little things. I’m using my custom Warm Springs crutches and enjoying the tourists who sneak glances at my legs. I notice Gloria staring at my legs a few times and I put on a show for her, dragging my legs up a step every now and then and leaning hard into the braces. No one could ever tell that I’m not really crippled.
Back at my place, Gloria takes me by surprise. “Bella, I have been wanting to do this for a long time.” She holds my face in her hands and kisses me. Our tongues intertwine and I am light headed. She tastes sweet and savory, and my desire pools hot and wet—down there. She breaks the kiss and, with a full megawatt smile says, “And I love the sexy way you walk.”
She turns, saying, “I’m going to slip into something less comfortable. ((GIGGLE)) Back in a few minutes.” And she takes the stairs to her room. It is late afternoon now and I open a bottle of chilled Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio, pouring a glass. I open the double doors out to the deck and pier and walk slowly without crutches or cane, lifting my legs from the hips and letting the soles of my shoes slap the floor. My shoes have heavy steel plates in the soles to keep me from using my toes and they make me walk flat-footed.
I hear a little noise and turn around to see Gloria. She has poured herself a glass of wine and has changed her clothes. She’s wearing a little black dress, so short that I can see the tops of her stockings, secured by straps from a garter belt. And on her feet, black mary-jane style ballet pumps with heels so high she walks en pointe. The dress hugs her curvy body, and the extreme heels make her take very short steps. She does a little twirl and walks back and forth in front of me and I am amazed she can walk so well on her toes in those ballet pumps.
I am mesmerized by her. She hits me with that megawatt smile again, but this time she has put shiny metal braces on her teeth, uppers and lowers, connected with rubber bands. Before I can say anything, she says, “You have your braces, and I have mine.” She gives me that smile again and all the muscles in my abdomen tighten, especially the ones—down there, and I can feel my nipples drawing up hard and elongating, becoming extremely sensitive.
“Bella, I didn’t know you could walk without your crutches!” Was she teasing me?
“((GASP)) Yes, I find they get in the way around the house.”
“Here, baby, take my arm.” We walk out on the pier over the lake, and the clicking of her stiletto heels on the wood planks is driving me wild. My desire has pooled between my legs, and I know my panties are wet. My muscles are clenching and unclenching—those muscles, the ones inside me that come alive when I’m aroused.
We sit on the bench at the end of the pier. I lift my left leg with my hands and cross my legs. She crosses her right leg and her shoe touches my leg. Those heels must be seven inches high. She puts her hand on my knee—on the leather knee pad of my brace—and kisses my neck, my ear. Her lips are on my ear. “Sweetie, I want to ask you about your legs.”
My breathing becomes rapid and shallow, and I’m a little bit lightheaded. “Sh-Sure, what do you want to know?” She keeps planting light kisses on my neck and ear. “Have you always—have you always been—crippled?” She asks.
“((GASP)) I—I—I got polio when I was 10-years-old.”
“So you remember not being crippled?”
My breathing is so rapid I’m getting really dizzy. “I—yes.”
“Do you remember getting sick?”
“Yes, I—it was really bad at first. When I was in the hospital I couldn’t move my arms or legs, and I was on a respirator for a few days, but then everything came back as suddenly as it had gone—everything but my legs.”
Gloria lifted my leg by the brace and let my foot slap the deck, then got down on her knees and pushed my legs apart. She pulled my panties down over my braces and shoes and put them on the bench. She pulled me forward until my butt was on the edge of the bench and I was almost reclining. Then she lifts one of my legs, locks the brace, and lowers it to the deck, resting it on the back of the flat heel. She does the same with my other leg. Now she’s kneeling between my straight, splayed legs. “Tell me about your legs.”
((GASP)) Gloria explored my legs and braces with her hands and then I could feel her mouth on me. Gloria is touching my crippled legs!
“My god, Bella, you taste so sweet! Now tell me about your legs.”
((breathing is shallow and rapid)) She began to gently draw circles around my clitoris with her tongue—that mouth with the cute braces—“((GASP)) I—I don’t know what you—Well, people, you know, stare at my legs—stare at me, but I kind of like that. I—OH, OH—GASP—when I was a teenager I was distressed that I couldn’t wear heels, and I really wanted to, and I became obsessed with shoes. I can wear them in my wheelchair, but it’s not the same as walking in them.”
“I had polio—did I mention that? I have normal feeling in my legs, but polio left me paralyzed. But I can walk with braces because I can feel my legs, and the paralysis goes from my toes to my thighs.”
“What else—I drive with hand controls because I can’t move my feet—can’t wiggle my toes, either. My right leg is a little stronger than my left, but not much. I like the way I—GASP—Oh, Mmmmmm. Wearing heels in my wheelchair gets me lots of looks—I guess people wonder how if I can stand up in the heels. I can’t. I like really high heels. I can’t walk without braces. I found a guy on the Internet who agreed to put brace channels on a pair of heels for me—don’t know if I can walk in them, but I’m going to try.”
“Can you walk without your braces?” She asks.
No, not really, a little, but ((GASP)) not really. I can’t walk. I’m crippled. ((ORGASM!)
The above story was written by a client of mine for a custom recording they wanted made. I did not write it, nor do I claim to. I asked for permission to post it and was told I could for others to enjoy it. No one else has permission to copy it or post it.