Rate by The Naughty Meter
Categories: Identified partner, The Fetishists
Tags: romance amputee genderqueer
Location: A Public place
Fulfillment: I will tell you later
Lately I've been fantasizing about having a lover with no legs. Being that I'm a slightly “heady” girl, everything has to have an interesting story. So... it'll be a while before the steamy stuff comes. I hope you're a fan of short stories/long fantasies, I hope it doesn't offend you, and for goodness sake, print it so you don't hurt your eyes!
She would have an abnormality like that of Johnny Eck's. So far I've imagined her being of Gypsy (Roma) persuasion, with a long black braid that falls between her shoulders and whips to and fro when she walks. Her arms are amazing from a lifetime of doing everything with them. She would be totally confident in approaching me; After all, she was used to being different, and she knew better than to waste time. I would later learn that her name was Sacha.
We meet each other at college. We're in the same class and the professor instructs the class to break off into discussion groups. I don’t really suspect that she likes me for a while. I just notice that she's a rather captive audience for an explosive conversation that I have with one of my classmates... who had the nerve to condescend me on the topic. During discussion time she didn’t really have much to say about my end of it, it’s mostly the other people in the group that responded.
When class was over I was getting my stuff together to leave. As disorganized as I am, it was taking me forever. I felt someone watching me, and quit tweaking over my bag to look up. Sacha was still sitting at her desk and had a smirk on her face that became a big smile when we met eyes.
"If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my life, it’s that people weigh themselves down with too much shit."
She had a mild eastern European accent that made her comment sound especially smart alack. Maybe that’s just me, since most eastern European people I know are smart asses. I laughed as I stuffed my random things back into my bag. We ended up eating lunch together in the courtyard, and talking in more depth about what was discussed in class, among other things.
“If there's one thing I've learned from my life, it's that people weigh themselves down with too much shit.”
She has a mild eastern European accent that makes her comment sound especially smart alack. Maybe that's just me, since most eastern European people I know are smart asses. I laugh as I stuff my random things back into my bag. We end up eating lunch together in the courtyard, and talking in more depth about what was discussed in class, among other things.
As the weeks go by, our conversations get more intimate. I tell her about my failed relationships, sexual frustration and social awkwardness. The subject of her birth defect comes up. She was born and raised in Olaszliszka, Hungary in a destitute Roma settlement. As it turns out, she has the components for digestion and reproduction in her small body... it's just formed differently, of course. However, her genitalia was rather ambiguous, so for a large portion of her childhood everyone thought she was a boy, and she had been raised as one. She was the first "boy," which was the only reason they kept her in spite of her malformation. After all, they didn't have the resources or education to determine her sex... they could only go by what her genitals looked like. It was living in these conditions that made her accustomed to getting around without a wheelchair. Once she was living in the states, she preferred not to have one still, for she saw the atrophy that it inflicted upon its users.
The time eventually came when the moment of truth that happened to adolescent girls happened to her, and what an uproar. Her relationships with her parents and siblings immediately changed. Something was wrong, because she felt like a very normal little boy... running with the others and pulling pranks on the girls and everything else. But no one accepted the prospect of keeping things as they were, for she was a girl; It was a terrible thirteen year long mistake that was not her fault, but could not continue. Her mother's affections withdrew, and she had to learn all of the things that she would have learned as a little girl, and her father and her no longer had the comradeship that she had become accustomed to, and she could no longer participate in the boys' activities. She became depressed and listless, which could not be accepted by the family; Nobody had time to sit and stare at the wall, and her father had little patience for such an attitude.
She was cast out and was forced to earn her living on the streets. She didn't like the idea of prostituting herself, and so decided to masquerade as a boy so that she could get money using her deformity and doing tricks and stuff. She eventually was able to earn enough to stay at various flophouses, where she happened upon a traveling sideshow performer. He saw her and immediately invited her to join, which was how she made it to bigger cities, and eventually to the states. She was able to find some Romas in New York who helped her find her way around. She eventually ended up in San Francisco, where she had resided for some years before going to school.
"How is it then, that I haven't seen you around?" I ask. She just shrugs, but she has a little smirk and a twinkle in her eye. I wasn't quite expecting that, but it didn't feel sinister or threatening, so i just grin and say, "Life is interesting." Sacha slowly props her chin on her hand and replies,"Yes, it is." all the while, keeping her eyes on mine. I feel my cheeks flush and look down at my folded hands on the table. Her hand comes into view as she puts it on top of mine. It feels warm and heavy. She uses her other hand to scoot herself across the table and closer to me. She starts to speak more quietly.
"Well listen, lonely girl... my arms are as strong as your legs. Would you like some company?" I look back up into her big, sparkling violet eyes, and nod my head yes. She takes my head into her hands and envelopes me in a deep kiss. As I feel her arms wrap around my shoulders and squeeze me, I hear the chatter and guffaws of the other people in the courtyard. I don't care. Their voices are muffled as I am consumed in a fiery vacuum. We keep smooching and she bites my lips. We open our eyes and grin at each other, breathing hard.
"Are you free tonight?" She asks me.
"I should like to feed you beforehand. Should we meet here later and go have dinner?"
She chuckles and imitates me. "Yeah..."
Embarrassed by my spaciness, I laugh and sit up.
Her smile is pure evil. "What time, knucklehead?"
"Six o'clock it is."