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From: "Stasya T. Canine" <stasyatk9SPAMUNDESIRED@juno.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} revised - We Do What it Takes (MF rom wl quadraplegic  P2C) Stasya T. Canine
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Date: Mon,  3 Jan 2005 17:10:02 -0500
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This work is released to the public domain

revised MF rom wl quadraplegic P2C
---

We Do What it Takes
A P2C (Uther Pendragon's 2nd Challenge) story by: Stasya T. Canine ---

My wife.  My dear, beloved and faithful wife...  Had tears in her eyes
when she settled me in my mobility cart, strapped me in and carefully
positioned the controls at my mouth.  "Let's go for a walk."  She pointed
at the forest trail.

Inwardly, I raged at my inability to do more than force the few sharp
puffs it took for me to turn the cart in the direction she pointed.  The
accident hadn't been kind to my body even as it had left it intact.

As we began our walk she babbled.  Funny thing, that.  It wasn't until
after the accident that we discovered she had the soul--and skills--of a
poet.  Her descriptions of the ordinary became filled with the same
passion she had shown in the first years of our marriage.  She'd become my
eyes, my private window on the world.  Through her I learned an
appreciation and awe for the world I'd previously taken for granted.  I
raged again.  That appreciation had surfaced, like so many other things...

After the accident.

Every so often she would pause and bend to to brush my lips with hers.

All I could do was force a few puffs and blink my eyes in response.  It
was almost the only response I could make.  It was enough to let her know
I still loved her.  There was one other response I could make.  In some
irony that we'd never understood, my penis still functioned normally. We'd
discovered that detail when she'd been bathing me and I'd let my mind
admire her body.

My erection had surprised us both.  In an attempt to bring me out of my
introspective misery, when we were in bed that night she had impaled
herself on me and carefully watched as she made me climax within her.

It had done the trick.  I started paying more attention to the world
around me.  It took months of effort on my part but eventually I managed
to get her and the doctors to understand that I *could* communicate, if
only they would help me.  She and I learned the morse code.

My first complete words were simple.  'Love you.'

She'd cried tears of joy and settled in my unfeeling lap.  'I love you,
too', she'd whispered softly before she'd cried herself to sleep.

 From that simple beginning she'd been a woman possessed.  She'd been the
one to find the mobility chair and learn the controls before she'd
surprised me with it.  She'd been the one to help design the system that
let me have some control over a computer.

The following years saw us patiently rebuilding our lives as best we
could.  No, as best she could.  There were many times when I gave up.
There were many times I refused to see the point in continuing my life.

Each time I gave up, she smiled and lightly brushed one of her hands
against my crotch.  "You can't feel this but I can.  Your body can't
remember but your mind does.  We can *still build a future, together.  I
can't do it alone.  I need your help." On those dark, dark nights of
despair--she'd take the time to position me and then gently bring us both
to orgasm.

Her glittering and lust-filled eyes, along with my cherished memories,
were enough to keep us both going when it otherwise seemed so hopeless.

Then, three nights ago, while I was staring at the computer and dreaming
of things that might have been, she'd surprised me.

"I want your child."

The resulting argument lasted for hours.  I conceded when she pointed out
the one thing I'd forgotten.  "How can you stop me?  I could have made you
father my child any time I wished."  She'd turned me so she could look
into my eyes.  "For all these years, I've made sure I wouldn't get
pregnant.  I still won't get pregnant until you say one word."

I'd slowly puffed out the code for two words.  "Our clearing."

She'd held me close that night and cried herself to sleep while I stayed
awake and worried about the future.

* * *

A naked wood nymph danced in front of me.  She glowed as she beckoned me
forward into her lair.  Grass bent under her feet as she danced across it.
 Her naked body entered and left my vision as she enticed me into the
center of her home.

Her laughter filled me as she removed all of my clothing.  Her touch was
gentle, oh so very gentle, as her deft fingers spoke to my penis in the
language I could never speak again.

Her need was so great I could smell it as the breeze swirled around us.

Before my body could fully respond she pulled her hands away.  My mind
raged anew at how fate had left me unable to follow my desires.

Lips touched mine before there was a whisper.  "Before you give me your
gift, I want to give you mine."

The wood nymph, *my* wood nymph, danced away from my helpless body.  She
twirled, she laughed.  With an abruptness that startled me she stopped all
movement and then arched herself so I could clearly see what she had used
to keep me interested in life.

Frozen in that triumphant arch, one of her hands reached down and with a
careful effort removed the final barrier to pregnancy.  With a smile that
spoke volumes, she casually tossed it to one side.

The change in her startled me.  She'd always been vivacious and radiant.
Now, she was female as female was always meant to be.

Unrestrained.  Glowing.  Filled with purpose.

One purpose.

To have her husband's child.

She came back and eased me away from my seat.  When she allowed us to fall
to the ground she was laughing.  She held me as she rolled so I was on top
of her.  Her hands moved my head so we could lock eyes.

"It is time."

Without any more words she engulfed me.  Within minutes, she gasped and
relaxed beneath me.

I had a new dream of what the future would be.  I dreamed that her child,
*our* child...

Would grow up to be just as much of a miracle--as my wife was.
---

Stasya T. Canine
June 10, 2001

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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