Monday, January 6, 2025
Sunday, January 5, 2025
Say it isn't so. Chapter 3
Say it isn't so
Chapter 3
As I settled into my chair, with my broken leg elevated my mind wandered back to something I'd stumbled upon online the night before that surprised me. Out of sheer curiosity, okay, maybe boredom since with my broken leg I couldn't go running my 5km. I had typed "life with a leg cast" into the search bar, hoping to find tips or stories from people who'd gone through this. What I found instead was... surprising. Forums, articles, even entire websites dedicated to people who found leg casts sexually attractive.
It wasn't just casual admiration either. Some of the erotic stories were passionate, even obsessive, mostly for men. A few women chimed in, but it was mostly men marveling at the shape of a cast, the way it immobilized a limb, the vulnerability it symbolized. Vulnerability, that word stuck with me. Was that the appeal?
At first, I laughed, thinking it was absurd. How could anyone look at this hot, itchy, fiber prison on my leg and feel anything other than discomfort? My cast was cumbersome and annoying; it made my life harder, not sexier. I thought about the forum posts again and shuddered. It felt invasive, like people were romanticizing something that, for me, was nothing more than a hindrance.
But as the initial wave of disbelief passed, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered something I wasn't ready to admit, could there be something empowering about this? Could the same thing that made me feel vulnerable also be a symbol of strength? I dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all.
For now, I couldn't fathom seeing my cast as anything other than an inconvenience. Life had a funny way of changing perspectives when you least expected it.
Julian caught up to me as I made my way down the hallway after the meeting. My crutches tapped against the tiled floor in a rhythmic cadence, and I could feel the sweat starting to form on my palms from gripping them tightly.
"Here, let me help," he said, stepping forward and reaching for my laptop bag. His smile was warm but awkward, like he wasn't sure if his offer would offend me.
I hesitated, my pride warring with practicality. My bag wasn't heavy, but the thought of juggling it while on crutches had already made my shoulders ache in anticipation. "Thanks," I said finally, handing it over. He slung the bag over his shoulder easily, walking beside me as I adjusted my pace to keep up.
"It's tough seeing you like this," he admitted after a pause, clearly no sexual attraction for him.
His words caught me off guard, and I stopped mid-step, the crutches halting my movement.
"Like what?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "You know... not at full strength. You're always so... in control. It's just weird seeing you in this long and ugly cast"
" and on crutches?" I finished for him, my voice calm but firm.
His face turned a light shade of pink. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just, this isn't you. You're the one who always has it together, 4 inch stilettos, short leather skirt." I sighed, softening a little. Julian wasn't trying to be cruel. He just didn't know how to handle the situation, and to be honest, neither did I.
"This is me, Julian," I said, gesturing to the red cast on my leg. "For now, for the next 3 months, anyway. And I'm still the same person, just moving a bit slower."
He nodded, looking down at the floor for a moment before meeting my eyes. "I didn't mean to sound... you know, insensitive. I just hate seeing you struggle. I'm so sorry"
"I appreciate that," I said, starting to move again. "But don't feel sorry for me. I'm managing."
The walk to my office felt longer than usual, each step a reminder of how much effort this took. Julian held the door open for me, his earlier discomfort giving way to a more natural kindness. He set my laptop on my desk and turned to leave, hesitating for a moment.
"If you ever need anything, Beca... I'm here. Really."
I smiled, this time a genuine one. "Thanks, Julian. I'll keep that in mind."
As he walked out, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. His words had stung, yes, but they also made me think. Maybe I wasn't as invincible as I liked to believe, but I wasn't about to let anyone, including myself, write me off because of a damn broken leg.
Adjusting my crutches, I sat down at my desk, ready to tackle the stack of emails waiting for me. The day wasn't going to stop for my injury, and neither was I.
I hobbled into my house, the crutches digging into my armpits as I made it through the door. Facing a long mirror, the red cast on my left leg was a stark contrast to my sleek black pencil skirt, which had a slit to accommodate the long cast. After tossing my purse onto the couch, I made my way to the bedroom. The day had been long and stressful, and I needed a release.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to jar my broken leg too much as I stared at my left leg in my full long cast. The doctor had said it would be on for 8 weeks. My fingers traced the shapes of the cast, and I let out a sigh. I needed more than this. I reached for the hem of my blouse and pulled it over my head, letting it fall to the floor. My bra soon followed, leaving me in just my skirt and panties.
I slid my hand between my legs, feeling the dampness already there. My clitoris was throbbing, and I knew I wouldn't be able to wait much longer. I unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor, leaving me in just my panties. I slipped a finger inside, feeling my wetness, and let out a soft moan.
"God," I whispered to myself.
I slipped my panties off and waited, my heart pounding in my chest. I slipped a finger inside me, my thumb rubbing against my clitoris. I could feel my orgasm building, my body tensing.
Then I slipped another finger inside, my thrusts becoming harder, faster. I could feel my orgasm growing, my body tensing with pleasure.
I came, my body shaking, my breath coming in short gasps. I could feel my juices dripping down my leg. It felt so good.
The next morning the light streamed through my window, and for the first time since my injury, I felt a sense of calm. Yesterday and last night had been magical, despite the cast weighing me down. I couldn't pinpoint exactly why, maybe it was the way I had finally embraced the rhythm of my crutches or how I'd caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realized that I hadn't lost myself completely or maybe it was my 2 orgasms.
Getting dressed, I felt like me again. I pulled on a fitted black dress with a hem that stopped just above the knee, letting my cast peek out. I added a pair of silver earrings and smoothed my hair back into a polished bun. For my good foot, I chose a classic black pump with a pointed toe, sharp, stylish, and perfectly balanced. It wasn't just an outfit; it was armor for the day ahead and I wasn't sure what to expect.
To my surprise at lunch, I noticed Vanessa before she noticed me. Her bold red dress hugged her perfect figure, the fabric flowing just enough to reveal her shapely legs and the faintest hint of a limp when she walked. Her black heels clicked against the floor, but the subtle unevenness in her stride made her even more attractive. Somehow it was a touch of imperfection in an otherwise flawless and sexy woman.
She caught my eye and smiled...
Say it isn't so
Chapter 4 to come
Beca
Saturday, January 4, 2025
Friday, January 3, 2025
Say it isn't so chapter 2
Say it isn't so.
Chapter 2
The doctor's face softened, but her words were firm.
"I'm afraid so Beca. Your leg will be in a full leg cast and it will take time to heal. It's going to be a long process, but you'll get through it. You'll have help along the way, but you need to take it slow, use your crutches and follow the treatment plan."
Her words didn't sink in, not fully. The magnitude of it all felt too much to process. I was trapped in this body that had always been strong, always been capable, and now, I was reduced to someone who could barely move on her own. The image of the woman who had walked into that building just hours ago, full of poise and power, was slipping further and further away with every word she spoke. I wanted to scream, to deny what was happening to me, but all I could do was stare at my ugly cast, the weight of it pressing down on me, suffocating me.
The ground had been ripped out from under me. This wasn't just an injury. It was everything I had built, everything I had worked for, suddenly crumbling to pieces. I was no longer in control, and that realization felt like a raw wound, one that had yet to fully open. The world I had known, the one where every step forward felt like a conquest, had been replaced by something unrecognizable. And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure how to move forward.
Okay, so two weeks later or 13 days, if we're being precise, the traction was finally done, and they put me in a new cast. It was red, slim from the middle of my foot all the way past my knee. The second they finished putting it on, I knew I couldn't stay in that hospital bed another minute longer than I had to. I mean, come on, I'm not the kind of person who just sits around feeling sorry for herself.
The doctor explained it was non-weight bearing, which basically meant no walking, no pressure on my left leg at all, and that this thing would stay on for months. Maybe longer. As if I needed another reminder of how stuck I was. But honestly, the more I looked at that long, hard cast, the angrier I got. Something inside me just snapped. I literally thought to myself,
"Enough, Beca. Deal with it. This isn't going to beat you."
I had made up my mind, I was going back to work. I wasn't going to let this injury define me. I had built my career with every ounce of my determination and strength. I had climbed this ladder through sheer grit, outworking everyone around me. Bla, bla, bla...
A broken leg wasn't going to take that away. It wasn't going to steal my identity.
The first few days in the hospital were hell. My body felt like it was on strike, and getting used to the crutches was nothing short of exhausting. Every movement, every shift of my weight, sent a new wave of pain through my leg. But I was determined. Slowly, I got better at crutching around, learning how to balance myself with the help of those two metal sticks under my arms. The exhaustion was real, but so was the pride that bloomed inside me with each step forward.
It wasn't easy, and it wasn't quick, but with each passing day, I became more proficient. I practiced crutching back and forth, even if it was just a few feet. I couldn't stand the idea of being confined to my house. I wasn't going to let the comfort of my couch or the softness of my bed lull me into a state of complacency. Instead, I spent my time preparing for what was next: my return to the office. I was anxious, but more than that, I was eager. I wasn't going to hide away or let anyone feel sorry for me.
The morning of my first day back, I took extra care getting dressed. I needed to feel like myself again, even if everything felt different. I chose a sleek black pencil skirt with a slit to make room for the long red cast on my leg. The skirt stopped just above my knees, showing off the polished edge of my look despite the situation.
I paired it with a white blouse, with the top few buttons undone for a touch of femininity and maybe more. I slipped on a single leather pump on my good foot, a sharp, glossy black that clicked against the floor when I tested my balance on one leg. The contrast between the shoe and my cast wasn't lost on me, but I held onto the thought that I was still me.
Finally, I adjusted my hair into a sleek ponytail and added a touch of red lipstick to match the cast, bold, defiant, and unapologetic. My heart pounded as I moved slowly on my crutches and made my way into the office. Every awkward movement reminded me that I wasn't the powerhouse they were used to seeing, but I kept going. By the time I reached the conference room, I could feel every stare.
As I crutched into the conference room, the polished marble floor seemed to amplify every tap of my crutches and the single click of my pump. The table stretched long and imposing, surrounded by colleagues whose chatter softened the moment I entered. I caught a few quick glances at my cast, their eyes darting away just as quickly, but I held my head high and moved toward my seat with deliberate steps.
Reaching the chair was its own challenge. I moved carefully, balancing on one crutch while pulling the chair out with my free hand. Lowering myself into the seat wasn't graceful. My cast was rigid and bulky, sticking out awkwardly as I tried to position it under the table. My arms ached, and my heart raced, but I refused to let it show.
The CEO, Richard, stood at the head of the table. He barely glanced at my cast, his gaze instead fixed on my eyes and then the presentation slides on the screen.
"We're on a tight deadline," he said, his tone brisk and focused. No sympathy, no acknowledgement of my struggle. It was exactly what I needed, who cares that I have a cast or need crutches, it was a reminder that I wasn't here to be pitied.
I nodded firmly, gripping the edge of the table to steady myself, my determination stronger than the ache in my arms. If he wasn't going to treat me any differently, then I wouldn't let this cast define me.
Then the time came, I gripped the handles of my crutches tightly and pushed myself upright. The room fell silent, save for the faint shuffle of papers and the steady click of my crutches as I made my way to the front. My red cast stuck out boldly, a vivid reminder of my physical limitations.
Standing wasn't easy. I shifted awkwardly, balancing on my good leg as I propped the crutches under my arms. The strain on my arms and shoulders grew quickly, but I ignored it, focusing on the slides I had worked so hard to perfect. My voice stayed steady as I explained projections and strategies, my gaze sweeping across the room as if daring anyone to question my capability.
Halfway through, Richard's deep voice interrupted, as direct as ever. "Beca, how are you accounting for potential delays in the integration timeline if external resources under perform?"
I swallowed hard, feeling the crutches dig into my underarms. My left leg, in the cast, felt like a dead weight pulling me down. Still, I met his gaze without hesitation.
"That's a valid concern, Richard," I said. "We've factored in a buffer period of two weeks to address any vendor delays. Additionally, I've coordinated with procurement to ensure we have secondary suppliers lined up. It's not ideal, but it's proactive."
His expression shifted slightly, approval, maybe? before he nodded. "Fair enough. Thank you, Beca."
I took a moment to glance at the faces around the table. They were listening, not to the noise made by my crutches, not to my long and heavy cast, but to me.
By the time the presentation ended, my arms ached like I'd run a marathon, and my leg throbbed from the awkward angle it had been resting in. Returning to my seat felt like an eternity. The floor taunted me with every step, each movement a reminder of how exposed I felt. But as I sat back down, I caught Richard's nod of approval. It wasn't pity or dismissal, just acknowledgement of a job well done.
That was enough for me to cling to. At least for now.
As I settled into my chair, my mind wandered back to something I'd stumbled upon online the night before. Out of sheer curiosity, okay, maybe boredom since with my broken leg I couldn't go running my 5km.
I had...
Say it isn't so
Chapter 3 to come
K