The Trader, Tales of the Device

By Peggy Buxton

Since buying the Mark II, Alex has been a beautiful woman often missing a leg or two. She loves the art of seduction and unknowingly trading bodies with strangers that profess to want a change. Most she never sees again. Curiosity grows until she follows a few to find how they have adjusted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peggy Buxton
• Release date: Sep 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466078888

Peggy Buxton

Author, wife, lover, and amputee. I have been missing my left leg for years. Growing up I felt that it should not be there, and it is has been a blessing to have it gone. Today's term for this condition is BIID and in the past simply referred to as being a 'wannabe'. I am a full-time crutch user. Like my husband, I find amputees fascinating. 'Devotee' is the frequently used term. My stories have characters that mirror my life in some manner - wanted/needed to be an amputee or want to live with an amputee. I make no apology for my descriptions of these people and there is no intent to take away from the suffering of some amputees. I love feedback on the stories, but I cannot promise to reply.

Book preview

The Trader

Tales of the Device

Peggy Buxton

Copyright 2011 by Peggy Buxton

Smashwords Edition

* * *

Jean followed the older woman at a safe distance. She was slightly older and walked on crutches because of a missing leg. Her slacks had the pants leg trimmed so it neatly wrapped the stump. It appeared that the leg might be off at the hip.

Growing up back home, Jean had seen other women like her, thanks to war and landmines. After school, she even had become friends with a few, some closer than others. Anna in particular had been willing to talk about what it was like and show Jean the short stump of the left thigh. It had been hurting one day. Jean offered to massage it and began doing it frequently for free.

Ashamed of her, Anna's husband had left not long after the amputation. His friends all agreed he had done the right thing. She moved in with Jean, sleeping in a small empty bedroom. Sometimes Jean would use Anna's crutches to walk about the small flat. Her skill grew until she was almost as good as Anna. Anna even teased that Jean should have her leg amputated.

Since moving to a new country and settling in Cape Ridgewood, Jean had not seen an amputee - male or female. She often thought of Anna, looking at all the pictures she had taken of her friend. The touch of her hands on the soft skin of the stump, the scars, all still deeply etched into her memory.

The comments about Jean losing a leg were still there as well. Jean's legs were slender. She had realized she could bind one up so it looked as though it was gone at the knee. She bought crutches and walked around her apartment often. No one would understand, so she never ventured out in public that way.

When Jean returned from the quick daydream about Anna, she realized the woman was just in front of her waiting for the traffic light to change. They were alone. Panic gripped Jean.

Lovely day, the woman said.

She had turned to look directly at Jean. Her smile was captivating, the same as the rest of her appearance. She wore a black tee shirt that captured the curves of her breasts nicely. Nipples poked into the fabric.

Once of the nicest so far this spring.

The light changed. They crossed the street in silence. On the other side, the woman stopped in the doorway of a coffee shop. With a hand on the handle, she looked at Jean and asked whether she would like to join her.

In line, they made introductions. The woman's name was Mattie. Jean spent most of the time letting her eyes roam over the woman's features, trying to control her excitement.

Jean put the two cups on the tall table by the window. It was the only place free. Mattie casually leaned the crutches against the wall then sat on the stool. Her single running shoe rested on the metal footrest.

Do you live here? Jean asked, not having a better way to start a conversation.

I'm considering it, looking for a change. How about you?

It still feels new. I too needed a change.

They both sensed the uneasiness of the conversation, and sipped the coffee hoping things would improve.

I had a good friend back home missing a leg. She walked as well as you.

Thanks. I'm getting better. What happened to her leg?

Gorilla gunfire. It was almost common to see amputees. Mostly a single leg, sometimes an arm.

Sorry to hear.

Anna didn't seem to mind. Her husband did. She moved into a spare bedroom in my apartment. I sometimes stole her crutches and walked around. She would hop after begging for them back. Jean laughed.

You make it sound as though were good friends.

Yes, not lovers though. Jean snickered. Sometimes I would give her massages. She enjoyed it when I rubbed her stump.

Jean looked around the shop to see whether anyone was listening. Others stared at newspapers or laptops, drinking coffee, and paying no attention to the conversation.

I bet that felt nice.

Probably for both of us, she muttered.

They sipped coffee, sometimes glancing at each other over the cups.

Do you have a husband? Jean asked.

It's complicated. She laughed. How about you?

At the moment, I'm alone. I've had boyfriends, but nothing that I'd want to keep for long.

Mattie tilted the cup high and drained the last of the coffee into her mouth. She put the cup on the table and took Jean's hand. The smile was friendlier than before.

I've had fun talking to you, Mattie said. She paused for a moment letting the comment float in the air. Do you still do massage?

Jean flexed her fingers and rubbed her hands together. Yes. I have a shop plus I do out calls.

I'm feeling a little tight. Maybe you could work on me.

Sure. I'd love too. My shop is up the block, or I could come to your place with my table later. I'm the only one there.

Hmmm. I can already feel your hands on me. Your shop sounds fine...to start.

Jean finished her coffee then tossed the cups in the trash. During the short walk, they chatted about nothing much just to pass the time. The shop was small, a waiting room and two massage rooms. She explained the second one was if the business happened to grow.

Would you like a gown? Jean asked.

No. It's not as though you haven't seen a woman's body. Mattie laughed then undressed leaving her black bikini panties on. Should I take these off?

It's okay.

Jean watched her lay on her stomach. The left hip had a little thigh just like Anna's stump, leaving it nicely rounded. The back of the panties hid in the crevice of her ass leaving the buttocks nicely in sight.

Where does it hurt the most? Jean lightly rubbed warm lotion on Mattie's back.

Suddenly, everywhere. Mattie laughed.

"Let me work on that spot."

For half an hour, Jean massaged the neck, arms, and upper back. Often, Mattie moaned and told her how wonderful it felt. Just as often, Jean watched her hands growing closer to the legless hip. Now with long firm strokes, she rubbed the lower back, easing onto the buttocks.

Mattie moved the left hip up and back down. There, she whispered.

It took no more encouragement. Jean's hands rubbed over the stump. It was smoother than Anna's, without scars. Jean wondered how that was possible. For now, it did not matter. It just felt good to be touching a stump again.

Beautiful stump, Jean whispered.

It loves your hands on it.

I must say my hands love being on it too. Jean chuckled.

Then it is a good thing I had it off.

I agree, though I might be a bit jealous.

Why?

After being around my friend Anna, I used to wonder what it was like. Over time, I grew to accept my feelings.

Feelings? Did you ever consider having one leg?

Maybe it is crazy, but yes.

Whoa.

Did I say something wrong?

Heavens, no. I just thought I was the only one.

How did you lose the leg? It is so perfectly shaped. She massaged the stump letting her fingers threaten to roam elsewhere. If you roll over, I can rub other parts.

Mattie rolled over, stripping the panties off in the process. Jean's fingers rubbed the top of the stump then strayed. They became slick with the juices from rubbing between the thighs. The moans were loud, the back arched, and the single leg spread wider. Jean enjoyed herself. Fingers probed and stroked. Her palm rubbed over the begging clit. The moans were louder.

"I'm going to need another