In Dependence - A love story in fibreglass
Rating:
;
Genre=Fiction;
Pages=12;
Characters=23,961;
By imlost6789
Chapter 1
"Yeah, go for it." Mhairi yelped, knocking back another vodka. Orla smiled, as she felt a warm glow inside her. It was a girls' night out, the first since they'd come home from their first year at University, and the topic of sexual fantasies had come up. Orla had finally plucked up the courage to tell her old school friends about her love of casts, and she wasn't disappointed at the result. Jenny began telling the girls about her wish to have a man on a leash, which was funny, but hardly surprising for a man-eater like Jenny, but Mhairi and Orla carried on whispering about casts.
By the end of the night, the pair had made a plan, the two of them would go away for a weekend, and Orla would return in a big arm cast, claiming that she'd fallen off a motorbike. She would wear the cast for 4 weeks, maybe a little more, and be back in shape in time for the Autumn term.
The next morning, Orla woke up with a splitting headache, she ran a hand down her curvy body, felt a bruise on her side. She could dimly remember that she'd walked into a door-frame on her way back into the house. Orla was staying at Mhairi's house for the summer, the youngest of three children, Orla's parents had realised their dream of moving out to Spain to retire when she'd left home to go and study, and Orla wanted to return to her home town and her school-friends. The thought entered her head as she lay on her back, squinting in the summer sunlight that was streaming through the bedroom curtains, that she'd had way too much to drink the night before. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, a party-girl to the last. "There's no such thing as too drunk, or too fat!" She thought aloud, in her gentle Highland accent, as she luxuriated in the thick rolls of flesh around her belly. It must be very early in the morning, she thought, as she closed her eyes and tried to get some more sleep.
Just then, Mhairi burst into the room, full of life. Mhairi's bubblyness offended Orla, who wanted her to feel as bad as she did. Mhairi had the amazing ability to throw up all the alcohol on the way home and wake up without any hang-over at all the next day.
"I just found a place where you can buy plaster casting materials on the net! We can get the stuff for this weekend, and book a bed & breakfast in Aberdeen to go away and do it." Mhairi was still up for this little project. Orla had thought that it would be one of those drunken things people say and never do, but since her friend was so enthusiastic, she couldn't see why not. "Shall I order it, shall I?" Mhairi enthused, sounding like a small child on Christmas morning.
Orla measured herself up for the cast. Since the chance to wear a long-term cast didn't seem to come along very often, she decided to go the whole hog and have a shoulder spica. This was a big cast at the best of times, but for a girl of Orla's size, it would be bigger still. The boxes had all arrived, been packed into the back of the car, and the two of them set off on the Friday evening, only 4 days after they'd planned the whole thing. Planned was not exactly the right word, and a number of things hadn't been thought through at all.
The sun was still high in the northern sky when the two girls arrived in the early evening. Having picked up their keys from the old lady at the reception desk, the girls didn't want to be seen carrying boxes of medical supplies through the entrance, which was also a pub. Bringing her suitcase in, emptying the clothes out, then bundling the casting tape into the empty suitcase, Orla was ready to start before too long.
"You might want to take a shower before we start, it'll be sponge baths from now on." Mhairi reminded her. Orla stripped off and squeezed herself into the tiny en-suite bathroom. She let the warm water run over her for a good half-hour, lathering up every inch of her obese body, running her hand through every fold and roll of her flesh. She looked down at her big, firm breasts, and wished she was a little more supple so that she could kiss them goodbye. Orla had decided it would be easier if the cast covered her breasts, so that she could go out without a shirt to show it off in all its' glory.
When she got out of the shower, Mhairi had already set out the two sizes of stockinette, padding and casting tape on one of the beds. It all looked so much.
"I'll start with the arm, and you can tell me if you still want to carry on." Mhairi said. As Orla sat on the bed, topless, she began to get the feeling that Mhairi was getting into this more than she was. She asked for the heating to be turned up to full, as a chill draught began to blow through the room in the old granite guest-house. Mhairi obliged, and soon she was unrolling padding up and down Orla's thick arm. She did a really good job of keeping her arm rounded, not flattening or squashing her soft flesh. They had decided to cast Orla's right arm, as this would be the most restrictive, and most easy to fit into the passenger seat of Mhairi's small car. At the end, she asked Orla if she wanted her fingers casted, they decided to leave her little finger exposed, and cover the rest of her chubby little hand in fibreglass tape. Because of the short notice, Mhairi had only been able to get light blue casting tape, which wasn't Orla's favourite colour, but it was firm and satisfying all the same.
As Mhairi began running the stockinette down Orla's body, she could already feel the fiber heat up as it hardened around her arm and hand, she wiggled her little finger, the cast felt rough against her soft flesh, but was smooth and tight on the inside. Orla began to shiver as she straightened her back to have the plaster applied - she wasn't cold, but the excitement was beginning to get to her.
"How low do you want me to cut this?" Mhairi asked as she began folding the stockinette over at the top.
"Low enough to show some cleavage. I want people to look at me and say `aw that poor girl, but at least she's got great tits!" Orla joked, breathing in and pushing her chest forward. The girls chatted about fashion and how the cast might set a trend as Mhairi wrapped roll after roll of fibreglass round Orla's upright body.
"Rest your arm there," Mhairi ordered, pushing the chest of drawers near to the bed. Orla put her arm out at 90 degrees to her body, toyed with the idea of having her arm out in front, or sticking up in the air, then decided on having it flat, horizontal to the floor. Mhairi added the finishing touches, wrapping thickly round Orla's shapely shoulder, and adding a spreader bar between her elbow and the first bulge of her midriff. The cast stopped at the bottom just below Orla's belly button, and as she relaxed, Orla could feel the restriction of the cast already - she couldn't slouch at all, and her body didn't wobble in the way it normally would.
They decided they couldn't risk going out again after being seen in the pub just a few hours before, so sat on their beds watching TV. Getting the bits of cut stockinette and dripping blue dye off the covers took about an hour, and by now Orla was well and truly set in her cast. It was now around 10 in the evening, and the girls hadn't eaten at all. Mhairi went out to look for a chip-shop, and while she was away, Orla squeezed herself back into the bathroom to take a look at herself in her brand new bright blue shoulder spica. She edged in through the door sideways, but couldn't turn face-on to look at herself in the mirror properly, having to look one side, then the other. The right side of the cast particularly impressed her, with her arm held out at 90 degrees, and her elbow bent forward at 90 degrees, only the tips of her fingers and her pinkie showing at the end. She tried to strike a sexy pose, which was hard to do when she couldn't move her back, but the cast looked sexy no matter how she stood.
Chapter 2
The next day, Orla sidled her way down the narrow stairs for breakfast. She decided to wear a sleeveless top over the top of her cast, which had been cut down one side and put back together with safety pins. The old woman from the reception was sitting at a little table slurping tea from fine china. "Fit happened tae you, lass?" she asked, startled, as she stared at Orla, looking her body up and down. Orla lifted her good arm up, running her fingers through her hair, pushing the cast even further forward towards the old woman. She had to think on her feet, she couldn't use the motorbike excuse she'd planned, because the old woman knew they'd driven here in a car.
"I fell down some stairs in a club last night, ended up spending the night in hospital." Orla mumbled, now covering her self as much as she could with her exposed arm, as she turned sideways, the cast made her fat belly stick out more than usual - her body didn't change shape when she stood up or sat down the way it usually would. Orla smiled shyly, something that was totally out of character for her. Never mind, she thought, she'd soon be out of here, and wouldn't have to deal with this annoyingly over-concerned old lady again.
Sitting at the table was the first tricky thing, it was hard to sit down and stand up without leaning over, and Orla's hard cast prevented her from squashing in closer to the table. Mhairi helped cut up her food, and by the end of a full cooked breakfast, Orla could feel her full tummy pushing against the inside of her cast. Mhairi phoned her mother at 9.30, when she knew she'd be out at work, and she'd get the answerphone. She told her mother that she was at Raigmore hospital with Orla, who had broken her arm in several places, and not to worry, because they'd both be home the next day.
Heading back to their room, Orla and Mhairi planned their day. Shopping in the morning, then they could go to the beachside for lunch, and have a night out in a club. As Mhairi helped Orla to comb her long dark hair, and put it up in bunches, it suddenly hit her that Orla's bike was still at her mother's. This was problem number 1, problem number 2 came when she realised that, if they were at Raigmore, Mhairi should really be home that night. They had to think of another plan. It didn't take too long, at 5, Mhairi would phone her parents again and tell them that Orla had been transferred to Aberdeen, and that Jenny, whose bike she was riding, was OK. That should just about cover it, they thought.
Walking out of the guest-house, Mhairi's skinny frame dressed in a t- shirt and tight jeans, Orla in a long skirt, still wearing the sleeveless top over her cast, it was clear that all eyes were on the pair. Guys followed Orla with their eyes, store assistants fussed over her enormous body in an enormous cast, she loved the attention. The summer sun beat down on Union Street, making the granite buildings glisten, and making Orla boil under her thick cast. The cast began to itch all over. Orla threw her head back, showing off her thick neck and multiple chins, she let her hair tickle the back of her neck, in a futile attempt to get rid of an itch on her back. As she looked down again, she made eye contact with a guy of about 21, who was clearly looking at her admiringly. The guy walked on, then seemed to slow down.
As Orla was sitting in a shoe-shop, with Mhairi helping to lace-up some new heels, she looked up and saw the guy again. He walked over to her.
"I don't normally do this kind of thing, believe me, but I just had to say that you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, and you're not even letting that huge cast get you down. I was wondering, can I take you for a coffee or something."
Orla giggled a little. This had never happened to her before, and she had to admire the guy for trying. He was cute too, tall and well- dressed, she thought she would give him a chance. "I'm a bit busy at the moment, but we'll be in Estaminet tonight if you want to join us," she smiled.
"I'll see you there," he smiled back, his eyes beaming. He struggled to look Orla in the face, not staring at her massive casted body.
Chapter 3
Orla stood in front of the mirror in the tiny bathroom, while Mhairi helped her do her hair and make-up. Her shoulder-length dark hair in schoolgirl bunches, Mhairi decided to give her friend some light-blue nail polish to go with her cast. A white knee-length skirt revealed her gorgeous chunky ankles, which Orla had waxed only the night before. She wore the silver-blue boots that she'd bought that morning to go with her cast. Orla's cast was all the upper-body clothing she needed.
The doorman at the nightclub looked Orla up and down as she turned her back to him to side-step through the door and into the club. Mhairi began to feel invisible, even with her long slender legs exposed, her long blonde hair swishing as she danced her heart out, her casted fat friend hogged the limelight. Orla stood on the dancefloor, holding a bottle in her good hand, moving as much as she could to the music, and immediately became a star.
One man walked right up to her, wrote his number on her cast, and walked away again. Before long, half the club was signing her cast, one drunken idiot scrawling "FAT CRIPPLE" on her back - Mhairi adding "AND PROUD" at Orla's request. Then Orla felt a tap on her good shoulder, and turned around to see the guy from earlier.
"Remember me?" He asked, smiling. Somehow Orla didn't find his persistence weird at all, and smiled back.
"Yeah, good to see you again. I'm Orla," she turned around, nearly hitting him clumsily with her gargantuan cast, then turning back: "fat cripple, and proud!"
The cute guy laughed. "I'm Andy. Can I get you a drink?"
Orla and Andy talked for hours, sometimes on the dancefloor, sometimes sitting in a corner, always in full view of a crowd of curious people. Andy put his arm round Orla's casted back, running his hand up and down the rough cast, up her soft neck and down to her massive soft ass. Orla tried to lean over to kiss him, but found her firm cast stopping her - within a second, Andy had met her half way, feeling her lips with his, caressing her enormous thigh.
"Can I have your number?" Andy asked at the end of the night, as they walked down the stairs from the balcony.
"Well," Orla wasn't sure whether she wanted to see him again. She turned sideways to go through the door, thumping Andy in the neck with her casted arm. "Oh, so sorry," she giggled, he giggled too. "What I was going to say was that I live in Aviemore, and I can't drive at the moment, obviously."
"Really, I live in Inverness, so I'm just up the road from you." Andy replied. He'd been tested, he'd even taken a hit from her heavy cast, and still cared. Why not give him a chance, she thought.
The car journey home on Sunday was fun but frightening. Orla had no idea how people at home would react, particularly when she started work the next day. Orla had difficulty getting into Mhairi's tiny car at the best of times, and today her casted arm rested on her friend's shoulder all the way home. Mhairi's mother rushed out to meet them, looking very concerned. Orla now had to explain the signatures too, which she did by saying that some friends of hers in Aberdeen, who Mhairi had stayed with last night, had all come to visit her and cheer her up. Getting out of the car was a nightmare, and Orla had to rock her piggy poundage from side to side, sliding gently out of her seat, unable to turn sideways because of the spica. Once inside, Orla couldn't wait to stand in the bath and sponge herself down, wiping away the sweat from yesterday's hot nightclub. As she ran a damp sponge through the folds of her thighs, she began to wish she'd got even sweatier with Andy - she'd been single far too long.
Another meal, which Mhairi's mother cut up for her, another night lying flat on her back, arm sticking out in the air, another morning came around, and Mhairi was there to put the safety-pins in her shirt, tie her shoelaces, and make her sandwiches for Orla's first casted day at work.
Orla worked in a tourist office in Aviemore. She had done this every summer since she was 16. It was the only kind of work available in the small highland town. She worked in the office, which meant that she didn't have to deal with stupid Americans looking for the Loch Ness monster, but it was an open-plan office, so she still had to listen to their stupid brash questions all day. There were gasps from her colleagues as she walked in through the narrow office door, casted arm first. As she sat down at her desk, Orla got a hundred questions from the girls at nearby desks. Working one-handed wasn't as easy as she'd expected. Typing was slower, she couldn't hold a phone and type at the same time, or write a note, as she couldn't even use her right arm to hold the paper steady. Orla could see the stares from visitors, who barely noticed the receptionist, and looked straight at Orla's arm, held high at her side by the spreader-bar and spica.
That week, she met up with Andy again. They went to the cinema, where Andy had to sit with Orla's casted arm around his shoulder, then grabbed a bite to eat, which he obligingly cut up for her.
By the end of her first week, Orla was getting used to the shoulder spica - the restriction and the itching still turned her on, and she still needed help at work and getting dressed. Orla missed being able to take a bath, but this was nothing compared to how good she felt when she woke up and felt her back forced straight and her arm helpless at her side. She spoke with Andy nearly every night, and began to grow closer to him. Her viewable office had now become a one- woman show, with Orla at the centre.
Chapter 4
Laura picked up the wine bottle clumsily in her left hand, pouring the last of it into Andy's glass. She'd gone round to his flat for dinner, and the wine had begun to flow.
"I'll get another bottle," Andy offered, getting up from his seat, kissing the top of Orla's head as he walked past her. Orla looked over her shoulder as she saw him pull the cork out of another bottle of white. She tried to jiggle her breasts inside her cast, which was again all she was wearing above the waist, trying to make her cleavage look its' best. The cast ran from her right shoulder to under her left armpit, as low cut as Mhairi had safely been able to make it. She hoped tonight would be the night, and tried to look as sexy as a fat girl in a body-cast reasonably could. Andy was making small-talk, though she didn't remember what they were saying.
As he brought the new bottle to the table, Andy knocked into Orla's arm quite hard. Her mind was so far away that she forgot to wince in pain. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Andy paused, "is your arm feeling better now, you don't seem to have felt that at all."
It was confession time, and Orla knew it. She wanted things to get more serious with Andy, and she couldn't do that if the whole story of how they met had been a lie. Besides, she'd told him she'd had the cast a week longer than she'd told everybody else, he'd find out sooner or later. "Well, I've got something to tell you, and you'll probably think I'm a freak for saying this?"
"The cast isn't real is it?" Andy guessed. He'd always been interested in girls in casts, though he'd never met anyone in a cast like Orla's.
"Oh, it's as real as they get!" Orla knocked hard against her belly, which again felt tight on the inside, and was full of butterflies too. "But you're right, the injury isn't real. Can you forgive me?"
Andy smiled, he couldn't think of anything better. For the last week, he'd agonised over the morality of liking a girl who's injured, he didn't want her to be in pain, but loved the look of that enormous shoulder spica. "Well," he began, a wry smile on his face, "I'll forgive you on one condition. You know you were saying before how the cast wasn't nearly as restrictive as you'd expected, and how you even enjoyed being helpless for a while?"
"Yessss." Orla whispered in anticipation.
"Well, I didn't get let in on the story before the first cast, how about we go a little further. Do you still have any casting tape?"
"About another 8 rolls, we'd only just got started on the third box." Orla said, keenly. She wanted to get even more involved, both with Andy and with her cast fantasies. Now that the two were coming together, this was perfect. The next day was Saturday, their one-week anniversary, and although it seemed far to soon, Orla knew she wouldn't get another chance, she went back to Mhairi's house, told her the plan, grabbed her casting materials, and went back to Andy's place. She would stay there for another night, and he'd "pick her up from the hospital" and drop her back at Mhairi's on Monday morning.
"Oh, Andy, I love you." Orla swooned as he applied the last roll of casting tape, gently finishing it off, patting it down against her now encased soft flab.
"Orla," Andy paused, looking deep into her eyes. He kissed her passionately, "you're not bad for a fat cripple!"
"You won't believe what happened to me this time, girls!" Orla tried her best not to beam too joyously as she sidled into her office again on Tuesday morning. Her work-mates gasped as Orla turned to face them, and they saw the second spreader-bar poking out of the left side of her shirt. The attention she was getting, coupled with the restriction of total upper-body immobility, really turned her on, but she couldn't do anything about it, both her arms held out high at her sides. She was shaking with excitement, and her two little-fingers, which poked out of the sides of her cast, began to wiggle, the cast hid the rest of her excitement. Better planned than before, Orla had had Mhairi phone her boss the day before, who had said that she could stay on at work, and do what she could for a week, if it didn't work after that, he'd tell her to stay at home and recover.
As many adjustments as could be made, had been made. Orla found a mouth-stick waiting in a glass at her desk, a speakerphone, and her usual morning cup of coffee - black with two sugars - waiting, steaming hot, with a bendy straw sticking out of it. Jackie, the girl at the next desk, would help put Orla's glasses on when she needed to read, and she would sit there, her soft lips pursed around her mouthstick, teeth lightly clenched, her double-chins quivering as she nodded her head gently against the keyboard. If anybody had failed to notice Orla before, now she was very much the star of the show. Every five minutes she would have to spit the mouthstick back into her glass to answer questions from curious tourists. Each time, she made a sport out of how far she could spin them a yarn. She even had one pair of elderly Texans believing that she'd been grasped alive out of the jaws of the monster when swimming in Loch Ness! This was about the only thing Orla could do on her own.
Every morning, Mhairi would wake her up, take her to the bathroom, where she even had to have help wiping herself, sponge-bathe her, lean over the sink to wash her hair and brush her teeth. Mhairi's mother or younger sister would spoon-feed Orla her breakfast cereal, although Mhairi's sister would always make a mess when she did it, spilling chocolaty milk down her cleavage, which was less exposed than before, but still tantalising. Someone would have to stand behind Orla, and grasp the spreader-bars of her cast, to help her stand up. Mhairi would dress her, putting a thick diaper under Orla's big panties so she wouldn't have to embarrass herself in front of her work colleagues, and Orla would sit in the back of the car on the way to the office. Andy was rarely away, and he was more than happy to help her with every aspect of her personal care, even holding a hankie to Orla's sweet little button nose when she needed to blow it.