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    Abyss, Tales of the Device
    Abyss, Tales of the Device
    Abyss, Tales of the Device
    Ebook340 pages6 hours

    Abyss, Tales of the Device

    By Peggy Buxton

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    About this ebook

    Pear shaped with thick thighs, that's how Lana saw herself. Why did some women have all the luck of having a body like that? Why did she have a body that men lusted over, but not lust over her?

    'Lose a leg, men won't want you then?' Don had suggested. Lana asked if he would and he explained he would be happy if she had no limbs. It did not take long to realize he was serious, and that she might take that if it meant losing the men she was used to.

    It was easier that Lana expected to find women that would have jumped at Don's suggestion, and even some that already had elective amputations. It was a new world for Lana, one that she knew would suck her into an Abyss she might never return from.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPeggy Buxton
    Release dateMay 1, 2014
    ISBN9781310457098
    Abyss, Tales of the Device
    Author

    Peggy Buxton

    Author, wife, lover, and amputee. I have been missing my left leg for years. Growing up I felt that it should not be there, and it is has been a blessing to have it gone. Today's term for this condition is BIID and in the past simply referred to as being a 'wannabe'. I am a full-time crutch user. Like my husband, I find amputees fascinating. 'Devotee' is the frequently used term. My stories have characters that mirror my life in some manner - wanted/needed to be an amputee or want to live with an amputee. I make no apology for my descriptions of these people and there is no intent to take away from the suffering of some amputees. I love feedback on the stories, but I cannot promise to reply.

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      Book preview

      Abyss, Tales of the Device - Peggy Buxton

      Chapter 1

      Don stood at the edge of the patio on the low cliff overlooking the ocean near Jupiter - not the planet. It was his paradise. A light fog drifted on proverbial cat feet across the white sands. He waved to the woman in the gray hoodie. The breeze caught her empty sleeve and waved it as though she was waving at him. He raised the camera and took several pictures of her.

      Chapter 2

      I was unhappy with my body, though most women would die to have it. I was slim with curves in the right places, firm perky breasts, perfect hips with long legs. Men would always complement me about my legs, especially when I wore high heels. Maybe unhappy was a gross understatement. I hated my body. There was not a single aspect that I cared for. Maybe that was why Don caught my attention.

      Lana, I hate skinny chicks, he said soon after our first phone call began. Give me a chubby pear. Maybe a big pear with small breasts.

      Why talk to me?

      I guess I was shocked by the comment, after all I was far from his ideal and we had swapped pictures so he knew what I looked like.

      Because you don’t like your body. God-d, if we were together, we could make changes that we both would love.

      It was not the first time I had thought of what I would want in a body if I could make changes. I had perused the web sites filled with bigger women, lusted over those with bigger hips, thick thighs, love handles hanging over their waistbands.

      I was lily-white, and most of the women were Latina or Black. Why did they have all the luck? Bean-pole Lana the boys used to call me. Now, I am more what all men want, but still I am unhappy.

      What would we change first? I finally asked once I regained my composure.

      Add some weight.

      Today, I weigh 120, and it is a struggle to be that heavy. How much are you talking about?

      At least another sixty. He laughed. At least, he repeated.

      It’ll all go to my belly.

      Maybe there is a way to fatten up your hips and thighs leaving the stomach alone. I saw a YouTube video recently of a woman who was doing just that.

      He sent me the link. The woman was a lovely pear and talking about the inches she was growing just in her hips and thighs. She had gained another three that month.

      I doubt everyone, or anyone can do that, I said after the video was over.

      We could try. Maybe plastic....

      What else?

      What do you hate the most besides your hips?

      My legs. I can’t stand my legs. They are too slender, skinny, like pencils.

      We could have them amputated.

      What? I guess I almost screamed it.

      Sure. I bet we could find a surgeon who would.

      Both? I said, a bit calmer this time.

      We could do one now and the other later.

      How would I get around?

      Crutches or a wheelchair.

      You’re serious, aren’t you?

      What else about your body?

      God-d, Don-n. My legs...really? I was still reeling over the suggestion I have my legs amputated. I was almost afraid to mention other body parts. My breasts are too big, and my arms are.... I suppose you want me to have a mastectomy, and my arms amputated, too.

      Not right away.

      I thought I heard a snicker. Don was serious, and not only that, he was enjoying the idea. There was something inside me warming to the idea. I had no idea where that came from. I had never thought of such radical changes, but it would surely do the trick.

      No doctor would do that, I said softly, almost believing I was wrong, almost wanting it to be true, and that if I requested it, it would happen that easily. Would they?

      Darling, what if they would?

      Don, I, I, I stammered not knowing how to answer him. I think that I’d rather be fat, I said after a moment.

      I bet there are cosmetic surgeons willing to help with that, you know some plastic surgery procedure...fat injections.

      Yeah. I fell mute as the entire conversation replayed in my head. Don. Don, don’t take this the wrong way but I need to think about all that we’ve said...that you’ve said.

      Lana, I was just kidding around. Don’t take it seriously. Don’t give up on us. Lana....

      I hung the phone up without answering. I was stunned, but I was equally stunned about how little I minded. I knew I needed time to evaluate everything. Our online chats were powerfully intense in so many ways. When I signed off, I usually rolled over in bed and humped my hand though several orgasms. It felt as though I could not breathe until I saw him online the next time.

      Chapter 3

      There was no one in my life I considered a best friend. Guys wanted to be around me because of my looks. Gals wanted me because I was a guy magnet. If the man could not entice me to go home with him, there was always a second or third choice. I knew how the game worked. I saw it happen repeatedly.

      Georgia was a rare exception. Maybe because she was a lifelong lesbian, she was immune from the second string attack. Even prettier, Georgia would just mention the two girlfriends waiting in bed for her to get home and the man would move on to the next woman or beg to go with her and watch. I even considered changing teams a few times feeling her blue eyes searching for any weakness in my armor.

      We sat on stools at one end of the bar at the Blue Moon. She was smoking a cigarette, looking sexy as hell. She already had rebuffed two men, and it was only fifteen minutes since arriving. The conversation was mostly about her most recent girlfriend messing around with a man, how much she hated when that happened, how it was like she could taste the man’s come when the girlfriend kissed her.

      I let it roll off me. If she did not like it then maybe she should find a new girlfriend. Of course, I knew I was wasting my breath to suggest such an obvious solution. Who was I to suggest that when I dated men screwing around on me, or the one time I thought I was in love with a married man and he would surely leave her for me. Love makes both men and women do crazy things that are obviously insane.

      It had been a week since the phone call, and I had not been online or talked to Don. I knew I was at the edge of a cliff, maybe an abyss and I needed to step back. I could feel the rocks crumbling under my feet as I looked into the darkness. His voice and words were as comfortable as a well-worn blanket. I knew I could follow them never caring where I was going. There had even been a few dreams where I had no arms or legs that I awoke from joyous about my new state.

      What’s new with you, sugar, Georgia said, taking a sip from the second glass of whiskey.

      She always called me sugar, or darling as though we were lovers or soul mates, held together by a strong bond instead of simple drinking buddies. It was the way she was, and always would be. It did not bother me.

      How’s that hot romance with Don? she said.

      That is a weird dude.

      "Aren’t all dudes weird? She laughed. Chicks are weird enough for me. I don’t need a guy to mess up my own life. She laughed again then sipped a larger sip. What’d he do this time, want you to get implants?"

      My boobs are fine...I guess, for him.

      I had hinted about my displeasure with my body to Georgia once only to have her offer I needed my head examined if I thought there was anything that required the least change or tweak. She even offered to come home with me and take a close look to give her professional opinion. I of course declined.

      "Is this your body thing? I suppose he told you the same thing I did. Has he even seen what you look like?"

      We’ve swapped pictures.

      I sent him three in various attire, one of me in a bikini, but none were pictures would I mind my family seeing online.

      Did he find something particularly offensive about your looks?

      I told him about how I feel.

      Bet that went over like a lead balloon.

      Actually, he seemed to understand.

      Great, so you two can sit in front of the fire on a cold night and talk about all the changes you want in your body. How romantic.

      Don’t you ever wish you were a little different in some way?

      "I had a girlfriend who wanted a leg amputated. Talk about a change." She laughed.

      Did she ever have that?

      Not that I know of. I thought Allison was a little bonkers. She tried to tell me how it was similar to being transgendered, that she had felt that way all her life. Even showed me research to confirm all she was telling me.

      Wow.

      It made me think about what Don had said. Maybe there were surgeons to help, but if there were would I want that?

      She must be unique in such a desire?

      I guess not. She found a new girlfriend who wanted the same thing. I lost contact, so I don’t know what happened.

      Lost touch.... I mussed, almost wistfully. I guess she picked up on something in my voice.

      "Are you one of those people?"

      No, no. It just reminded me of something. Sorry.

      I have an old email address. Georgia pulled out an address book and wrote on a piece of paper. Use my name if you want. I don’t know what you are after, but maybe Allison can help.

      I think that I’d rather be a fat black woman than an amputee.

      Can’t help there, sugar. She laughed.

      The topic changed to a band she saw at a bar recently. She raved on about the songs and the Latin beat of the music. Eventually, Georgia made an excuse for leaving and I was alone with the piece of paper.

      Are you into ladies?

      I surveyed the chubby black woman leaning close. I could smell the soft fragrance of her perfume. She was pretty, and tempting, with long black hair, straight, and ending below her shoulders. She had one of the bodies I dreamed of and lips that were very inviting.

      In your case, I might be. I grinned then felt her lips graze mine.

      And I might make one for a skinny white girl.

      She laughed to make sure I understood she was just kidding. I had already had two glasses of whiskey and at my limit. She told me that her name was Wanda then bought me another glass. Her hand held mine and I had to admit I was feeling very tempted by the touch.

      Wanda was darker than most black women, and there was something appealing about her. I am not good at guessing weight, but I suspected she was about 160 or 170, with most in her hips and thighs. Definitely a classic pear shape. Her breasts were small and because of the hips made her appear flat chested. Her lips were wonderful, and I thought I could kiss them for a long time. I loved lips, and I loved kissing. When she smiled her teeth seemed almost too perfect, and as she talked some of the letters and words had an odd sound that I remember from a neighbor with dentures.

      I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard a little of your conversation, Wanda said.

      Guess she shouldn’t have said that in such a public place.

      I had a black girlfriend without legs for a while. We had a good time.

      Really? How’d you meet?

      We happened to start talking about...I don’t remember. Then, we had lunch...it just kind of seemed right. I wasn’t after an amputee. Maybe I was. We were together for several months.

      Both legs....

      Yup. One at the top of the thigh, and the other kind of halfway. She had a body kind of like mine. Maybe that had a lot to do with us finding a bond.

      I love your body. Want to trade? I grinned.

      If I could give you a copy, I surely would. I don’t want yours...too skinny, and too white.

      Yeah. I agree. I hate mine, and I always have. I bet your amputee friend hated hers.

      Jeanie was okay about that. She often told me about guys begging her for a date, or following her.

      Why?

      Some guys are into amputee women big time. I doubt they would know what to do if she had said yes. Wanda laughed. One rich guy caught her attention, some handsome older white guy. That was the last I saw of her.

      How much older?

      He was sixty, probably a little older. Could have been her Daddy. They got married, moved overseas somewhere.

      I would have thought she might write you.

      We’re Facebook friends. She had the longer stump cut off.

      Why?

      Hubby wanted it off so she did. She also lost an arm for the same reason. Wanda pointed to the upper part of the right arm. She was right handed, too.

      Wow, I gasped. How long have they been together?

      Few years.

      Think she’ll have more amputations?

      Don’t doubt it.

      Is that common to just run away and start lopping parts off? Did she ever suggest she wanted that when you were with her?

      No.

      Wow, I gasped again. How does that make you feel?

      At first I was hurt because I actually loved Jeanie, and I thought she loved me. Gradually I accepted she was happy with him. I am sure the money makes it easy. I was surprised when the amputation of the longer stump happened, but the arm even more so.

      "But, if you could find a rich woman would you do something like that to find happiness?"

      Asked myself that question at least once a week. I don’t have an answer, but I might. I’ve seen pictures of where they live, and it is a hell of a lot better than the dump that I live in.

      A leg?

      If I had to be disabled, missing one leg might be the least disabling. I was around Jeanie long enough to see that she did many things I would have never imagined and that was both legs.

      Did she have amputee friends?

      None that I ever met. So why do you want my body?

      I’ve always liked a pear shaped body.

      But a black chick?

      What’s wrong with being black?

      Nothing, but it is all I’ve ever known? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone wanting to be black. Hell, some of my black friends would rather be white like you. I guess I include myself in that desire.

      Again, find a way and I will gladly trade.

      Wanda’s hand held mine again. She had bedroom eyes and I was ready to join her. I had never been with a woman, but here was one that I would be happy to give a try. Her body begged me to see what I wanted for my own. I had only seen pictures of women that mirrored my dreams, and now I might have a chance to see one undressed, up close, and personal.

      Lana, something about you makes me want you next to me even if we only cuddle. I know you aren’t a lesbian, but...maybe you would be one part-time after a while with me.

      I’m up for that.

      Chapter 4

      I went to Wanda’s place because it was closer. It was just as small as she had suggested and in a neighborhood I had never been. There was no gunfire, but it felt like the area in most TV shows where there would be. A police car raced by with red and blue lights flashing followed by an ambulance and a second police car. She seemed unfazed by the action.

      It was on the fourth floor of a five-story building without an elevator. I was breathing harder when the door closed. I teased her she would have to move if she lost a leg. She mentioned she lived at Jeanie’s house while they were together. I felt sorry that this was the best she could have.

      We undressed ourselves then slipped under the covers before we began kissing. Just a dim nightlight illuminated the room. Our hands explored finding warm, willing flesh. She felt good, round, soft. Her hips were large and thighs thick. It was everything I wanted and would never have. We traded complements, she about my full breasts and me about her big butt. It was easy to be with her. She placed no demands on me, letting happen whatever might happen or not.

      I sucked her nipples, fingered her wetness, rubbed over the massive thighs, over equally large hips, listened to her moans of pleasure as though whatever I was doing was special. Without asking, she slipped between my thighs and sucked me though a wonderful orgasm, probably one of the best I had ever had, then returned to kiss my lips, letting me taste my own juices on them.

      Chapter 5

      I spent the night, woke early enough to return to my place and shower, change, and still be at work on time. I had no idea if we would see each other again. There was something comfortable about the short time with Wanda, and we both felt that way. I had Jeanie’s Facebook information, and I suspected I would contact her, though Allison’s email address was still unused.

      Don’s comments still rang in my head, and I had heard about three women wanting to be amputees. Well, Jeanie was already one, but the guy was strikingly similar to Don. Was that unusual for a man to want a wife to be an amputee even if she wasn’t? I could understand how someone might want to be with a person that was already an amputee. That seemed as reasonable as wanting to be with a football player, a redhead, a woman with large breasts, or hundreds of other attributes and features.

      Like Wanda, I might just be willing if it meant a certain future. As I walked across the parking lot to the place I worked, I thought about how that would change with one leg, using crutches, or without legs in a wheelchair. I looked at the small flight of steps to the front door, a revolving door. I looked for a wheelchair ramp but did not find one. I took a small detour and found it hidden out of sight. At least, there was one.

      Work consisted of answering phones, filing papers, making copies, and anything my boss wanted done. It was not a career, but a job where the money paid the bills, and it required little mental effort on my part. At the end of the day I could go home without feeling I had homework, and I usually left on-time.

      There were other bosses with other secretaries doing the same thing. Most had been there longer than I, but no one felt they would be there forever. Sally and Dixie occupied desks near mine, but we never socialized other than small talk at the coffee or copy machines. Both were married, and I felt the fact that I was not somehow prevented more conversation. I never understood that, but I had seen it before at the other companies I worked.

      I gathered that Sally married her college sweetheart, some big name jock on the football team, a sport I did not understand. The only sport I enjoyed was tennis. I had played off and on through high school and college, but never on a team.

      Dixie seemed less committed to her husband than Sally. I only think that because I have transferred calls to her phone from men only to hear her saying things I expected to be reserved for him. Hi Darling, Yes, he is away, I loved your kisses. When he called, he always used his name so I knew these were other men. I never asked, because it was not my business.

      Chapter 6

      Jeanie had over 300 Facebook friends. Within a few hours, she accepted my request. What’s another she probably figured. Now, I could see her photo albums. Some were innocuous travel pictures she might as well make public for anyone to see. Maybe she was concerned they showed what country she lived. A dozen showed her in various attire including one in a bikini. Clearly she was missing both legs and the right arm just as Wanda said. She was a pretty woman carrying about as much weight as Wanda. There were no pictures of her with her husband or anyone else which I suspected would be the case.

      I scanned the friend list that was hidden before and found Wanda’s entry. Most of the others were men, but there were more women than I expected. I checked Jeanie’s likes and groups, but found nothing related to amputees. That surprised me. Next I looked at Wanda’s likes and groups. She had many related to BBW black women and lesbians, but there was one for quad amputee wannabes, and one for legless wannabes. I had no idea what that meant.

      I Googled for a while to discover that wannabe generally referred to someone wanting to be an amputee though also included other disabilities. Quad was a reference to someone who was missing all four limbs, sometimes completely. It stunned me that someone could want to be just a torso, especially Wanda. How could you take care of yourself? Maybe that was the point, to be helpless and require a caregiver.

      In the process I began to find web pages with pictures of amputees, mostly women but also men. Some were candid, but many appeared to be taken with knowledge of the person. I also found some that seemed taken by professional photographers with the person nicely posed. I used the Google image search to find where a few originated only to learn people were selling photographs and videos from their own web sites.

      I spent time browsing the picture sets available. Some were of women missing

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