The Accident
by
Bill Lemieux
Part 5
June 28th.
Dear Diary,
Nothing much new to report today. Jurgen says the modifications to the DSM
machine are going well, and should be finished soon. We have decided to put a
high brick wall around the property, for security and privacy. The workers are
out there right now. When it is finished, we won't have to worry about anyone
seeing or bothering me.
Even if we are out in the middle of nowhere, we are both still paranoid. Neither
one of us wants me to become a scientific curiosity. And I'll be able to stay
outside during the day if I want. I'm not sure I want to go through that again,
as incredible as it was, because I think I am already addicted to it. I wonder
if this is how a recovered drug addict feels. They say that the first time you
smoke "crack" cocaine, it is better than an orgasm. I hope I never find out.
Anyway, I'll be glad when the wall is done. Having the workmen around makes me
nervous.
July 6th.
Dear Diary,
The wall around the property is finished. It looks nice, and is about eight
feet high, so it's unlikely anyone will be able to see in. Jurgen has had a
pair of fancy wooden gates installed with an automatic opener at the driveway.
There is also a small locked postern door in the back that opens onto our old
hiking trail.
Jurgen made another couple of toys for my suit, just to keep things interesting.
They are a pair of inflatable plugs that fit the sheaths still stuck inside me.
The pumps are little detachable puffer bulbs, and what's more, he's put a little
battery operated light inside each one, so once he's blown them up, he can
freeze them that size. He finished them last night and we played. God, I never
dreamed I could be stretched so much! He did it gradually, giving my poor
abused muscles time to stretch and relax. After about an hour, I felt like I
was getting an enema, both front and rear. Then he pressed the little switch on
each one, and removed the pumps. I could hardly walk- I imagined that this was
how a pregnant woman feels giving birth. Of course I know it isn't that bad,
because giving birth is painful.
Later, he got out his big flashlight, and played it over my breasts, crotch, and
the rest of my body for about an hour. I never quite came, although the
sensations were exquisite. Afterwards, we had sex, good old fashioned
conventional sex, and it was the best we've had in a month.
They have started doing tests on the modified DSM machine. Jurgen came home
yesterday with a piece of rubber that has the physical properties as my suit- it
gets hard in the light. There may be hope yet!
Nothing much else new to write about.
July 11th.
Jurgen says they are running tests on animals now. They reversed the
physiological "photosynthesis" effect on that rabbit, apparently with no ill
effects. It is just like a normal rabbit, eating and crapping regularly, thank
God. I'm so excited!
July 14th.
More tests at the lab. Jurgen has been playing with rubber and plastics after
hours. He's managed to make an inverse form of the same latex as my suit- it
becomes rigid in the dark, and softens in light. He also made some rubber that
is very, very soft. It was originally ordinary thick latex- a piece of an old
pair of ankle boots. But now it stretches to ridiculous limits, and is very
soft- it contracts very slowly. Another sample he came up with is crystal
clear, yet it feels just like regular latex rubber!
July 16th.
Jurgen came home with that "I know a secret" look of his. When I asked him what
was up, he smiled and said very quietly,
"I think I'm ready to get you out of the suit."
"But... but, what... I mean," I stammered. I was at a loss for words. I was
conflicted too. I wasn't one hundred percent certain I wanted to be freed now.
And I was afraid. The machine had made me different- had made me a sex-toy that
lived on, and got off on, light. What might it do to me this time?
"What do you want to do?" I temporized. I wasn't ready to commit.
"We can tune it very closely now. I should be able to soften the suit enough
that we can take it off, without affecting you at all."
"And what about me... my body? Can you change me?"
He looked uncomfortable.
"Yes, but... what do you want?" he asked
"I'm not sure. I think I like being the way I am. It seems harmless, and
helpful, my figure stays perfect, my skin is flawless, everything about my body
stays perfect, without my doing anything. Who knows- I might be immortal! I
only wish..."
"What?"
"It... um, it's not really fair of me to ask."
"What?"
"Well, I wish... I mean, I get so much enjoyment, I can feel so good, it's out
of this world, I can't begin to describe it, and yet, you're stuck with the same
old body... it doesn't seem fair to you."
"I know. That's why I've decided to join you."
I was shocked for a moment. Then a rush of joy ran through me. Followed by a
shadow of doubt.
"But hon, I've been thinking. I get off, I feel good, I get recharged and so
on, when light hits the _suit_, not me. I mean, the suit isn't transparent. So
somehow, it's the suit that's feeding me, I think. What about..."
"I know. It doesn't matter how it works. We can read the structural and
chemical differences between you and me, and the DSM will make me just like you-
it doesn't matter how it works, and we don't even have to understand it."
"But what about the suit! I'll still have to wear the suit!"
"Not all the time- only when you want to. And consider: once we've softened
your suit, we can cut it, add a zipper, make it something you can put on and
take off. Hell, we might even be able to duplicate the material and make one
just like it for me!"
Well, to make a long story short, we went back to the lab that very night. I
was quivering with excitement, both from a fear of being discovered in the
bizarre outfit that had been sealed on me for so long, and from a nagging sense
of doubt. What if we were missing some important part of the puzzle?
After my husband had made sure that no one else was about, he led me to the lab
again, turning out the lights so I could move around. I noticed another entire
rack of equipment had been added, and the platform and machine itself looked
more "slick", more professionally finished now.
"Okay, we're warmed up," my love's voice said from behind the control console.
"Step up on the platform and I'll scan you."
The platform began turning, and then the humming started, but I felt nothing.
Perhaps there was the faintest warmth, but I may heave imagined it.
After a few moments, he said, "Got it. Now it's my turn."
He appeared from behind the racks and took my place on the platform. Then a look
of fear crossed his face, and he said, "Good lord! I almost forgot!"
He began undressing as he spoke. "Wouldn't want to do anything strange to my
clothes, would I?" He chuckled to make light of the grave error he had almost
made. Soon he was nude.
"Okay, so what do I do?" I asked.
"It's all set up, just walk back to that panel."
I did.
"Now, do you see the key switch on the left? Turn that to the right."
I did as I was told.
"Now, just to the right is a red button inside a black safety shroud. Press
that."
I did. There was a humming, followed by the same *thump* I had heard that last
time so many months ago, and a shiver went up my spine.
"Okay, turn the key off," came his voice, sounding somewhat puzzled.
I obeyed, and shot out from behind the console to check on my love. He looked as
puzzled as he had sounded, but was obviously fine.
"How do you feel?" I asked. I was worried sick.
"Oh fine, fine. I'm a little weak, and suddenly I feel kind of hungry, but
that's okay."
"I'll make you a huge steak when we get home. But is that all?" I asked,
remembering how I had climaxed under the influence of the machine.
"Yeah. Didn't you say you got excited and came, when you were exposed?"
"Yes. You didn't feel anything?"
"No, just a warmth. But don't worry, we'll find out soon enough whether it
worked. Right now, I want to get you out of that suit!"
"Okay, I'm... I'm ready."
I clambered back up onto the turntable, while Jurgen babbled.
"We've got a data storage system on it now. I stored the parameters for that
super soft rubber, and the clear stuff too, on disk, along with a lot of other
things we came up with. All I have to do is recall them. I've already
confirmed as best I can that these settings don't affect anything but that
material you're wearing. Okay, are you ready?"
I nodded, then remembered he couldn't see me from where he stood.
"I'm ready," I called.
I heard the humming, then the thump, and that was all. I hadn't felt a thing.
But as soon as I moved I did. It felt like my suit was falling off! The
sensation was so alien to me that I was badly startled. It was loose! Jurgen
came over and helped me down from the platform. Laying me down on a workbench,
he poked the suit carefully with a pair of scissors.
Sure enough, it could be cut! My dear mad scientist had finally done it! The
suit was now so loose that I could have literally slid it from my body if the
hood had not become permanently attached. But we had planned for this. Jurgen
made a careful cut with bandage scissors from my waist at the front, through the
crotch, and up the back to the crown of the helmet. Although I slid out of it
easily, the lack of support from the corset section was quite uncomfortable, and
I could already feel my back muscles complaining. Later, we would cement a heavy
duty zipper into the slice, and re-zap the suit with Jurgen's widget. Then it
could be put on and taken off at will.
"Honey," I told him, "I think you'd better lace me into one of my old corsets
when I get home- my back is already killing me."
"Hmm, well, that's fine if we still have them- I think they're in those boxes in
the storage shed. After all, we weren't sure you'd ever need them again! But
right now, we'd better clean up and get out of here."
What we hadn't thought of was what I'd wear home if we did get the suit off!
Jurgen found a spare lab coat, and after a while, I wore it home. I say "after
a while" because we spent the better part of an hour just exploring my body and
skin. Neither one of us had seen my real body in well over a year! He played
with my piercings some, which had been inaccessible for so long, and that led to
other things, and, well, I'm sure you can imagine. I wonder what some of his
more conservative, greyer-haired cohorts would think if they knew the uses to
which we put various benches, desks, and consoles during that hour or so.
My first inkling that anything was wrong came when we got home. As I had
promised, I made Jurgen a decent all-american steak-and-potatoes dinner,
something we seldom indulge in. He ate with gusto, but it came right back up.
I was appalled, but he shrugged it off to stress and perhaps a flu bug that had
been going around the lab, and after a while, I calmed down. We turned in then,
both of us exhausted by the day's events.
July 18th.
This is not good. Jurgen can't eat anything. He tried to eat breakfast this
morning and it wouldn't stay down. He took some pills for motion sickness,
hoping they'd quell the nausea, and went to work, saying he felt fine, just
tired. Then this evening, he came home looking like he'd been run over by a
truck, pale and exhausted, and still couldn't eat anything. If he isn't better
in the morning, I'm keeping him home from work and sending him to the clinic.
July 21st.
Well, wonder of wonders! We have created another monster. We found out
yesterday, by accident. Jurgen still had not eaten, and what's more, was too
weak to get out of bed. He had gone in to the clinic, which had pronounced him
fit and disease-free, but probably suffering from stress and over-work, which by
then we both knew was nonsense. Something had happened to him, something the
DSM machine had done, and it wasn't what had happened to me. We had no way of
knowing what it was, and I secretly steeled myself to the knowledge that he
might die.
That night, I tried to comfort him with a little sex. The love of my life is
blessed with a better-than-average libido for a man his age, (or perhaps I
should say _I_ am blessed, but I digress) but he told me he just didn't have the
energy.
"No, no, hon, just lie back and relax! I'll do all the work. Whatever had gone
wrong, it didn't seem to have harmed his equipment, since he got hard quickly
from my attentions. I had decided to make this love making session something
special, for who knew how long we might have together? After I had him at
attention, I proceeded to ignore mister happy, much to my husband's chagrin, and
gave him a long, leisurely tongue bath, something he loves, but which served
only to frustrate him further. By the time I had deliberately waved my rear in
his face for the third time, he was just about whining with unabated desire, and
I decided to take pity on him.
While I started to work his cock and balls over gently with my hands and mouth,
I squatted carefully on his face.
After only a few moments however, I had stopped working on him, and just sat
there distracted, as he proceeded to eat me with such gusto and abandon as I had
not seen in years! In fact, he was making such ridiculous sounds of pleasure,
lip-smacking and moaning and all (and I wasn't even touching him) that I began
to giggle a little. He ignored me though, and as I slipped into the throws of
my first orgasm of many that night, I witnessed a very curious thing indeed. He
came- suddenly, and without warning, showering my chest, face and belly with his
seed, and what's more, he _kept_ coming, growling and screaming into my crotch,
not letting up his attentions for one second, as I watched, fascinated. His
come kept pumping out for much longer than it ever had before, and when he ran
out, I stared as his cock continued to pump and jerk in that tell tale way it
has when he is coming. It took a long time before he wound down, and longer
still before we finished that night, and finally slept.
We have the answer.
July 25th.
We've been experimenting. Jurgen is better, although he is still weak, and is
not ready to work again. He has called in sick and the doctor at the clinic
gave him an explanatory note about "Chronic fatigue syndrome" or some such
mumbo-jumbo.
Never the less, there is now no doubt whatsoever in our minds about his
condition. My husband, through some perverse miracle of fate and physics, did
NOT receive the changes I did, probably due to his being nude, and my wearing
that suit. Instead, he appears to get both tremendous stimulation and
nourishment from my come, my vaginal mucous! Isn't that a hoot?!
In fact, he is _dependent_ on me for his health and stamina! It would be every
girl's dream, if it weren't for the fly in the ointment, more on that in a
moment. What we don't know, of course, is whether the changes that occurred to
my body have changed my secretions into something special that he can
metabolize, or whether _any_ woman would do. We both admit to being curious,
and we are both smart enough to realize it would be foolish to try to find out.
And of course there is the stimulation aspect. He described it to me in ways
that sounded vaguely like my own secret "affliction", which by the way, we have
discovered, _does_ depend on the suit- we're still not sure about _that_, but
anyway, he said it felt like swallowing heat and light, and that this warmth
spread through his body and caused him to tingle all over, until his whole body
felt like one big penis... sound familiar?
But there's another piece to all this- the other shoe, so to speak. He isn't
getting better fast enough. We have sex as often as we can stand it, and it's
keeping him going, but it isn't enough to get him back to his old energetic self
again. We are casting about for solutions, but I worry... he can't stay a
weakling- the frustration of that is already wearing on him. I don't know what
to do- I think I just need to generate more "juice".
...to be concluded in Part 6.
