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Marcy held onto the brass pole like she was making love to it, moving and gyrating about. She was auditioning for Candice, the new owner of the Brass Pole, a gentleman’s club. Marcy had worked there for several years, but that was before her left leg was amputated at the hip a few months ago. In the nude, there was no doubt about that or the way her roll of belly fat hung down in front.
“That was good,” Candice said. She was an older woman with an eye patch; the result of barroom brawl when she was younger. She was also missing three fingers on her right hand thanks to a jealous lover that chopped them off with a meat cleaver.
Marcy hopped over to the table, her breasts and belly bouncing in unison with each hop. “I’m still refining my routines.”
“How long had you danced before?”
“In total about five years.”
“But that was before the weight gain and the amputation?”
“Yes, ma’am. Another dancer had a belly and was getting more tips than I was. I shouldn’t have a problem.”
“Yes, but with one leg…will people want to see that?”
“You bet, and you’ll have the only amputee dancer for thousands of miles.” Marcy laughed. “My stump is nice looking, too.” She rubbed a hand over the rounded hip without any thigh. “I thought you were trying to find unique dancers?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of contortionists, chubby women, and such.”
“I bet you get men after you because of your eye or your fingers.”
“Sure, honey. That I do. I’ll give you a month to see what kind of business you can attract. How’s that?”
“Can I dance fully nude?”
“Yes. It’s legal in this county. Just no prostitution.”
“I never have and will never, just so you don’t expect me to.”
Marcy was dressing when Susan walked into the room, not expecting to find anyone, she almost turned around and left. Susan’s job was to keep the establishment clean and neat.
“It’s okay,” Marcy said.
“I usually cleanup first thing.”
“I was just here to audition for Candice.”
“How’d you do?”
Marcy finished pulling on her spandex short pants with the empty pants leg trimmed and sewn closed. She adjusted the roll of fat then pulled on the cropped tee shirt. Next she sat and picked up the single shoe.
“She gave me a month tryout. I used to dance so it all was coming back.”
“Must be a bitch to lose the leg.” Susan began moving chairs about and picking up trash.
“You know, it’s not so bad.”
“Yeah. It just means I do things differently now that I use crutches to walk. Other than that I’m the same person.”
“Whoa. You have a much better grip on that than I would. Good for you. I just hope it never happens to me.”
Marcy grabbed her fat and held it for a long moment. “What if you were transgendered…would you want to do something about it?”
“Did you know that gender isn’t the only thing people grow up feeling is wrong? Some have a sense of being disabled, only they aren’t. One example is related to being an amputee.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Marcy finished tying her shoe and put the crutches under her arm. “Have a nice day.” She walked from the room leaving Susan alone to figure out what the last comment was about.
It was two blocks to the old fashioned boardwalk facing the ocean. Marcy loved to spend time there. One of her favorite past-times was watching people and during the warmer months it was difficult to find a better place. It would be another month, but still the weather was good. Not too hot nor too cold, and a gentle breeze off the water. Waves were pounding the beach, and surfers in their wet-suits and swimsuits were lined up waiting for the next wave.
Jeanette was out there in a swimsuit. She had been hurt in a bank robbery and lost her left arm near the shoulder. Marcy casually knew her although they rarely spent any time with each other. Jeanette reminded her of Bethany, the famous suffer-girl that was attacked by a shark. Marcy stood by the railing and watched her catch a moderate size wave and ride it for longer than anyone rode others.
“She’s good,” a female voice said from behind Marcy. “Do you surf?”
Marcy looked around to find an older woman on crutches, also missing a leg. She grinned. “No, but I enjoy watching. Especially, Jeanette.”
“Reminds me of Bethany.”
“Yeah. I’m Marcy.”
“Gail. First time here. I love it.”
Marcy studied Gail for a moment. Nothing special. She wore a short dress and a sandal. Long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail. Impossible to tell how much of her leg was missing other than the stump was shorter than the dress. A little chubby with a nice roll of belly fat, bahis şirketleri less than Marcy’s. Still tantalizing.
“Lived here a few years. Expensive unless you’re willing to have a tiny apartment. What do you do?”
“When my husband passed, he left me some money. Now, I just travel.”
“Sounds like the life.” Marcy grinned. “I’m a dancer at a club a few blocks away. That’s what I was doing before my amputation.”
“He was a wealthy devotee, and I was a wannabe. It worked well enough we were together for three years. I had my leg off on our honeymoon. Was thinking about the other, but now I’m not so sure.”
“I have a friend, Irma, that’s a wannabe. She had her leg off not long before I did. She’s traveling with a guy she knows.”
“Was she a dancer?”
“Yeah. I was jealous because she made more money because she was chubby.”
“And that’s why you gained?”
“Uh-huh. She had found some fat pills. Each was good for fifty pounds and lasted half a day. I still take one twice a day.”
“They also make something you inject to make a stump. I used that for a while then had the surgery.”
“Wow!” Gail said. “We do share a bunch. Let me buy you lunch.”
There were cafes all along the boardwalk. Marcy and Gail passed a few before picking one for no reason except they were tired of walking and it had a few empty tables outside with a nice view of the ocean.
“Beer,” Gail said to the waitress.
“Iced tea with lemon,” Marcy said to the waitress, and then when they were alone to Gail, “Do you still take the fat pills?”
“Nah.” Gail grabbed her belly. “This is all natural these days.” She laughed. “Over a year, I gained about eighty pounds. Too bad he didn’t live to see it. Besides stumps, he was into bigger bellies. He was the one to tell me about the fat pills.”
“I need to begin gaining weight on my own and stop with the pills. It’s just too easy to pop two a day.” Marcy stirred sugar into her tea then sucked on the straw. “I tell myself that one day that maybe I’ll get tired of being chubby.” She sucked again. “I doubt it now that I’ve experienced what it’s like.”
“You think men will pay to see you dance?”
“If not then I’ll find something else to do. I liked dancing, knowing they all were lusting over me.”
“I never slept with any customers. It was a clean place.”
Gail smiled. “When I was much younger, I did a few adult films…mostly lesbian stuff. And one with three men. After that I began spending nights with multiple men. I couldn’t get enough.”
“Why’d you wait to have the amputation?”
“I didn’t know where to go. I met Max online in a chat room for devotees and wannabes. We hit it off quickly and agreed to meet. I couldn’t believe I had finally met a man that wanted me to lose a leg. That was about all we talked about the first meeting. When he told me he was into big bellies I knew he was the one for me.”
“Getting fat is easy. Why not before then?” Marcy sipped her iced tea then watched the waitress refill the glass. “Until recently I hadn’t been interested.”
“I wasn’t the most slender lady in the room.” Gail laughed. “I had a bit of belly going on…enough to repulse most men and attract a few. Max and I dated a month then I moved in with him. He had the potion, and I began using it all the time. He understood my desires and helped me find a surgeon.”
“A rare man.”
“I know. Reading the stories on the web you’d think every man was a devotee. Besides Max, I knew only a few others. He would have lusted over you. You see, Max was into hip amps, and I needed to keep a short stump of thigh. The compromise was taking the fat pills.”
The waitress brought the plates of food and another bottle of beer for Gail. As she set things on the table there were glances, but no signs of interest in either woman or acknowledgement that they were both missing legs.
“What’s next?” Marcy said.
“Haven’t decided. I’m here for the night then driving on first thing in the morning. No itinerary or schedule. Just stop when I feel like it. When do you dance again?”
“That hasn’t been settled. Probably in a few nights.”
“Sorry I’ll miss your premier.” Gail rubbed her stump through the dress then pulled the hem up enough to show it to Marcy. “Thick and soft. I like it that way.” She let the dress back down.
The walk back to her apartment was alone. Gail had other plans for the rest of the day and there did not seem to be any interest in meeting again. That was okay. It had been nice to chat, but there was little in common other than being wannabes, and knowing about the fat pills and potion.
Marcy had a practice dance poll in the corner of the living room. She undressed bahis firmaları and began working on a routine while recording herself with a video camera. The turns and twirls were more challenging on one leg, and the larger belly didn’t help either. She assumed that everything would improve with practice.
She thought about Irma and wondered if she still performed. There had been talk of modeling. Was her new guy into taking pictures and making videos? There had been no contact with Irma since Marcy’s amputation. It wasn’t even clear where she lived or how to find out.
After another twirl Marcy leaned over as if she was about to stand upside down, but she fell hard, banged her head, and almost passed out. She lay on the floor for a few minutes then struggled to stand. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
To help calm down, she sat in her wheelchair and injected the other thigh so it would match the amputated leg. It was something she was enjoying more than she should. Without any of either thigh, the belly almost rested on the cushion. “Feast your eyes on this body, will ya,” she muttered aloud. Next she swallowed a second fat pill adding fifty more pounds to her already chubby body. She rolled the wheelchair to the queen sized bed and laid down for a nap.
Marcy was restless and never found sleep. An hour later she gave up and scooted her legless body back onto the wheelchair cushion. The closet was divided into three sections of clothes: no pills, one, and two. She pulled a large dress over her head and down her body.
The apartment was on the ground floor with no steps in the way. She had been out in the wheelchair often, even without legs, and loved rolling about. She headed back to the boardwalk.
There was almost no wave action, just a strong lap as the water hit the shore. The surfers were gone. A few families frolicked in the water. Marcy parked her wheelchair near the edge of the walkway and watched. It would be another ten hours our more until the leg returned. There were times like now when she considered having it amputated as well.
During the times when the wannabe feelings had been the strongest, Marcy usually saw herself without one leg. Thanks to the potion she had experimented enough having no legs to know how enjoyable it was. Maybe she would buy herself a powered wheelchair and begin living that way. At least as a trial.
She rubbed the cushion in front of her hip, finding the empty space somehow pleasing. With two fat pills, her roll of belly fat was thicker and hung even lower, and now was touching the cushion and covering her crotch. She was sure that most people were turned off to this appearance, but she could care less what others might think. She was happy like this.
“Mommy, where are that fat lady’s legs?” the young boy yelled louder than necessary to ask the question.
“Bobby, that’s rude to yell.” The mother knelled so she would be at his eye level. “She doesn’t have any. That’s why she uses the wheelchair.”
“I don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter, honey. That ride you were interested in isn’t far.” She stood, held his hand, and continued to walk.
Marcy had noticed that often it was the young boys that asked and that the young girls just looked. She found that curious. Would any be devotees when they grew up, and how many would be wannabes?
“I bet you’ve heard that before,” said the handsome older man.
“Like a broken record, but many children don’t even notice. Were you like that?”
“Well, yes, but I got spanked often enough to learn to be quiet about it. I’m Jackson.”
Marcy introduced herself then moved closer to the bench where he had gone to sit. She parked facing Jackson and gave him a quick review. It had been quite a while since she last dated someone as handsome as this man. What was his interest?
“I bet you had some interesting dreams afterwards.”
“Yeah. I got spanked for that, too.” He chuckled. “After college, I met a few amputee ladies. The last one I married.”
“Unfortunately no. But, she was missing the left at the hip. She understood my interest. It lasted about ten years before she developed breast cancer. It was too late though. It’s been a few years now, since…”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, but I’ve moved on. How about you?”
“It’s still recent, but I know about devotees and wannabes.”
“You do? Whoa. Most amputees hate ’em.”
“If you understand transgender people, then wannabes should make perfect sense.” Marcy grinned. “And for devotees, well every guy is attracted to some feature, even women are although most never admit it. What’s your thing?”
“Legless with a big belly. Hope you don’t mind. I don’t know why those two things really excite me. If you look kaçak bahis siteleri at all the picture sites, you’d have to believe all female amputees are young and slender.” He laughed. “I also like ’em with a little age.”
“In a sense of honesty, you need to know only my left leg has been amputated.”
“Oh-h?” Jackson drawled. “Are you at least fat?”
“Not really.” Jackson started to stand. Marcy put her hand on his arm, and he sat again. “Here’s the deal. I take pills that make me gain fifty pounds each and all in the belly. Then, I have something I inject to make my remaining leg become a stump. This is how I look with two pills. Maybe you don’t understand or approve.”
“I don’t know.” He shifted about. “Are you a wannabe?”
“Man, I love amputees, but they need to be because of some problem. I don’t understand why anyone would want to be an amputee on purpose.” He stood. “Otherwise, I’d love you get to know you.”
“That’s up to you, but it would make sense a wannabe would be more receptive to all that you want. Especially me because I can be missing as much as you want. How’d you like to be with a torso? I could be one.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but I can’t get past my feelings about wannabes. Sorry. It was nice talking with you.” With that Jackson walked away.
Susan, the cleaning lady from the Brass Pole, the gentleman’s club where Marcy was to begin dancing, said, “What was that about?” But, then she must have noticed the other missing leg about then. “When did you lose the leg?”
“Oh, Susan.” Marcy gave up watching Jackson as he walked away. “Just some guy trying to score with me. Almost did, too.” She licked her lips.
“Marcy, right? You look so different. Is this a magic trick? Wow.”
“Which way is your favorite?”
“This by a mile. Wow.” Susan sat where Jackson had and lusted over Marcy’s new appearance. “The extra weight…my goodness, but I love how you look without either leg. How did you do that?”
“I thought you’d hate to lose a leg?”
“Well, just one of them. But, both…” Susan nibbled her lower lip. “You are just too sexy for words. I’ve always wanted to be fat and legless. I guess you understand.”
“And what about your husband?”
“I’m not married. Besides I’m a lesbian. I don’t talk about it much, but that’s why I wanted to work at the Brass Pole. I love to look at women’s bodies. I just wish chubby ladies worked there.”
“Getting fat shouldn’t be difficult.”
“For me it is. No matter how much I eat, I never gain more than a few pounds, not the fifty or sixty I want, and that’s just for starters. You must be fifty pounds heavier than when I saw you. How? Give me whatever that was.”
Marcy hiked her dress slowly until it was up to her waist. Susan gasped louder than expected and covered her mouth. There were too many people walking around so she dropped the hem.
Susan finally mustered the ability to speak again. “Why?”
“Long strange trip it’s been. My wannabe desires were reawakened after being dormant for a long time. I found a surgeon to amputate my leg.”
“But what about the other leg?”
“I had been given something, a potion, to inject to make a stump. I used that for a while to confirm my need and decide the length of stump. I also got some fat pills. Each is good for fifty pounds, and the effect lasts half a day. How you saw me before is after one. This is with two.” Marcy grabbed a handful of fat and moved it about.
“That’s perfect.” Susan nibbled her lower lip. “It’s dinner time. Can I buy you something so we can talk more?”
Marcy and Susan stopped at a cafe a few doors down from where Marcy had lunch with Gail. It had been a long day, but Marcy was anxious to explore things with Susan. Who knew where this might end? At least Susan was local.
They sat outside and watched the sun setting on the ocean. Each sipped beer from a bottle and said little. Susan reached over and held Marcy’s hand as if it were the most normal thing to do, not for a brief time, but for minutes. And Marcy did nothing to stop her.
“Will you stay like that?” Susan casually said before sipping again.
“Would you like me to?”
“Right now I think that you’re the sexiest lady I’ve ever seen.”
“What if we both could be fat and legless?” Marcy licked the mouth of the bottle then sipped.
Susan squeezed Marcy’s hand. “The only thing better would be if we were also lovers.”
“Oh, wow-w. Really?”
“Maybe we should wait a bit before that, but…”
“Yeah, I get the idea.” Susan gave the hand another squeeze before rubbing it over Marcy’s stomach. “I have a wheelchair like this. I go out and about some. I just wish I had to use it.”
“After we leave here we can go to my apartment and you can try the potion.”
“And the fat pills?” Susan snickered. “My house is one-level and near here. Maybe you could spend the night.”
“Only if it’s in your bed.”
“Count on it.”
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