Trophy Wife - 1

by Pat

Chapter One

In hindsight, I should have seen this coming. I grew up in a poor family. I wanted better for myself. I knew I didn’t have the brains to get ahead, so I would use my looks. During each annual school physical, I was be diagnosed with kyphosis (hunchback), and was warned that delaying wearing some hideous brace only made the problem worse, and thus longer to be stuck in it. I didn’t want to hear it, and my family lacked the money for it anyway.

After graduation, I got a part time job as a receptionist at an investment firm. I needed the money, and I needed a nice place to meet wealthier people. I used them like they used me. I met Dave, the owner of a machine shop. We fell in love. He had no delusions – he was my “Sugar Daddy”, and I was happily trotting down the road to be his “Trophy Wife”.

After a year of dating, I couldn’t hide it any longer. The pain from my kyphosis was getting worse and worse. Due to skeletal maturity, I would have to wear a brace for the next 5-10 years. I knew my delaying had literally added years to my sentence. I printed out a picture of a Milwaukee Brace, and sobbed. When I broke the news to Dave, he stared at the picture, as if he had been shot. His beauty queen, his “Trophy Wife” was going to be ugly for the next decade. He just silently stared at the picture. I left the room sobbing.

After an hour, he came to me. I waited for the “let her down easy” dumping speech. Instead, he said “We can get through this. I’ve done a lot of specialty work for an orthopedist. We’ll have him make up a brace for you.” I was shocked he wanted to stay with the cripple.

In just two whirlwind weeks, the brace was ready. I went to the shop with fear and anticipation. The orthopedist started by putting a clear plastic girdle around my hips. It fit snugly on the top of my hips, and rose quite high in the front. Even though I’m relatively thin, I had to suck in a bit to get it to fit. From the top, one perforated bar ran proudly up the front, splitting my boobs, and ending at the top of my sternum, the bottom of my neck. Looking at it, the regular holes in the bar reminded me of a ladder. Two similar bars ran stiffly up my back, framing my spine. Each of the back bars had a large pad that sat on my shoulder blades.

The next injustice was a clear plastic V-shaped piece that split from the top of the front bar, one side over each shoulder, and fastened to the top of each rear bar. They seemed too short. With the orthopedist’s pushes, my shoulder blades were thrust forward, my neck slightly back, and the V was screwed into the back bars, holding it together. Three velcro strips crossed the gap between the back bars, holding the brace shut around my body. It was rigid and uncomfortable. I felt bent over backwards, forced far too upright by the pads on my shoulder blade

How could I look attractive while trapped in a metal and plastic cage? I looked at Dave. He was being stoic, forcing a smile.

On the car trip home, I was surprised at just how much taller I felt. It was as if I had been slouching my entire life, and now was forced to quit cold-turkey.

As we got home, Dave said “As the orthopedist was making the brace, I made a few...attachments of my own. He proceeded to screw two metal plates between the back uprights, one at the base of my spine, and one at the top. “Just something to assist patient compliance”. I realized the brace would stay on until he decided otherwise. Not only did I lack the screwdriver, but I couldn’t see what I was doing, or reach between my shoulder blades to unscrew the plate if I had it.

The next “attachment” Dave made was a pair of curved wings – they went from the top of the brace in back, under each armpit, and curved up, ending in a pad that pushed my shoulders back. As those got screwed into the brace, I realized my forced posture could best be described as “Look! I’ve got boobs!”

Dave smiled, and guided me to the bedroom. I totally didn’t understand. The brace was so large and ugly – and Dave made it larger? And I couldn’t take it off for seduction?

Sex that night was wonderful. Not that I could thrust up to meet him, but he caressed me so much, running his hands over the brace, my breasts, and really made me feel loved. He teased me so long before finally bringing me over the edge.

About a week later, we were getting ready to go to an afternoon wedding; one of Dave’s workers was getting married. After I showered, and dressed in a blouse, Dave held out the brace for me. He settled the girdle around my hips as I guided the front shoulder-pads into place. As I consciously thrust my chest out, Dave screwed the brace into place to keep me that way.

Dave seemed to enjoy putting the brace on me. This time, I noticed a modification to the brace – Dave added four metal eyelets in the bottom of the plastic girdle. I looked at him, and he grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Once the brace was tightened snugly around my torso, he slipped behind me, and guided me to lean over a table. Once I was in position, I felt something poking up my ass. Slowly a lubricated rubber penis slid in, twisting deeper and deeper. I tried to relax as it entered. Finally I felt my sphincter close around it. I relaxed a bit. It wasn’t huge, but I was sure not going to forget it was back there! I felt another invader slip in the front door, and it too was worked into position. A small leather cover was put over the plugs to hold them in place, and hooked to the eyelets in the brace. He slid my skirt up to cover everything below the waist. Above the waist, the brace was as apparent as a beacon.

I was very self-conscious about how I looked. To me, the brace was like a beacon of silver and white against my kelly green blouse. I knew that everyone stared. And the brace was so...rigid! It sounds obvious, but until you experience it, the forced immobilization of your torso really restricts how you move. Everyone would treat me differently due to the brace that I was forced to wear. And now I felt like was waddling like a duck due to the plug up my ass.

I put on hose and some low heels, and Dave handed me my fashion purse. I got into the car, just like the orthopedist taught me – watch my head, sit first, then swing my legs in. With my weight on it, the plug really made its presence...unforgettable.

At the wedding, everyone asked if I was OK, what happened, and how long I was going to be in the brace. When I told them 5-10 years, their gasps and amazed faces were startling to behold. It was then that the duration really started to sink in. Everyone stared at it, as if mesmerized by the gleam from the uprights.

Early in the reception, I excused myself to use the ladies room. As I got up, Dave cryptically said “look in your purse”. I got into a bathroom stall, and unhooked the crotch piece of the brace. I took a sigh of relief I slipped the phallic invaders out of my privates. I saw they were too large to fit in my “fashion purse”, so I set them on some toilet paper on the floor, hoping nobody saw them under the stall doors. When I had done my business, I opened the purse. On top were 4 open luggage locks with a note scrawled in Dave’s handwriting - “I have the keys.” I swallowed hard. It’s what he wanted, so I pleased him. I unhooked the crotch covering from the back of the brace, replacing each hook with a lock, and snapped them shut. I put the butt-plug back up my ass, put the dildo back in the front. The dildo slipped in quite easily – I had plenty of natural lubrication. I pulled the crotch shield up to hold them in, and noticed the hooks were longer than the locks – It will be a bit snugger when locked on. I pull it up, thrusting the invaders in deeper. Taking a deep breath, the locks went on. The “click” echoed in my ears.

I sauntered up to Dave, held rigidly like I was. I smiled sweetly, handed him the four hooks. “Could you hold these? I don’t have any pockets.” His eyes widened, and a smile lit up his face. He gladly took the hooks and slipped then into a pocket. I let out a soft groan as my weight came down on the plug. Dave smiled all the more.

Dave was so polite and pleasant that evening, caressing me, and danced with me throughout the night, always looking at me with gazed-over eyes. I smiled sweetly back, and tried to do my best to dance despite the rigidity of the brace and reminders down below.

When the evening was done, and we went home, Dave led me straight to the bedroom. Through the romantic kisses, he unlocked the crotch cover, and took out the rubber penises. As we had sex, I could see it through the lust in his eyes – he truly loved me.

Two weeks later was my company Christmas party. Dave didn’t want to go and hang out with financial accountants. I finally cajoled him into agreeing. I showered beforehand, and he met me with the same “cat ate the canary” grin. I knew he had something in mind to spice up the party.

Dave bent me over the table like before the wedding. A lubed invader went in. It seemed softer in a way, more like a balloon than a penis-shaped object. It was a lot more comfortable, conforming to the shape of my anatomy.

He pulled out the brace. I could see it was noticeably taller. A chin-pad and bar had been added to the front to force me to hold my head proudly up. Another pad and bar had been added to the back to cradle the back of my head. One strap went around each side to connect the two.

Dave started putting the brace on me, and I felt something pushing against my ass. I groaned as a mushroom-shaped attachment slid in to lightly push against the heavy rubber balloon already in there. I had a bad feeling about this. What would I have to endure at this party?

I really had to lift my head up as high as I could to get my chin strained over the front rest. The chin pad truly cupped my chin, having sides and a front – my chin could barely move enough for me to speak, turning was out of the question! Dave snugly strapped the front chin portion to the rear, and looked at me, quite pleased. I looked back, and tried to smile as best as I could, strapped in like I was.

He fastened the brace around me, and I felt the familiar thrust as he bent me over the shoulder blade pads, and felt the front shoulder pads force me to thrust my chest out. I tried looking down, but my head didn’t budge.

I finished getting dressed, with a skirt and hose. Dave insisted he’d pick out my shoes. He came back with a shoebox I relegated to the back corner of the closet. I cringed. The shoes had 5” heels, which forced my toes down into the sharp tip. They were too uncomfortable even to break in, so I never wore them. I guess today would be my chance to break them in. He lovingly put them on my feet, buckling the ankle strap, and fastening each one with a kiss.

As I stood there, my feet already started to cramp. I looked forward to sitting in the car to get off of these shoes. Dave took my hand, and led me out to the car, even opening up the door like a true gentleman. The spinal brace changes the way that you need to enter a car. I did as the orthotist taught – sit down, then swing my legs in to prevent whacking my head on the car roof. As I sat, the rear pole pushed against my anal balloon, and I let out a groan. Dave smiled. “Enjoying that anal pressure? Kind of splitting you? Well, your weight is off your toes!”

I was glad the party wasn’t too far away. Dave opened up the door, and I slowly got up off the seat, onto my high heeled torture devices. Dave held my arm, and I stiffly teetered up to the house. He rang the doorbell. “You need to be very attentive. I want you to make a good impression.”

As the night goes on, and the party started winding down, I mentioned that perhaps we should go – my toes are sore when I stand, and my ass is sore when I sit. He considered it a moment, and said he had another way I would be more comfortable. He led me into the kitchen. He had me open my mouth, and put a large metal ring behind my teeth to prop it open. A strap went from each side of the ring, buckling behind my head. He then adjusted the front upright of the brace, jacking it up as high as he could force it to hold my head perfectly still. I stood there stiffly, a forced look of surprise on my face. He opened up the back door, and had me kneel, legs going out the open doorway. He mostly closed the door, and my feet protruded through the small cat door at the bottom. He draped a rope through the door hinge, pulled it tautly across my chest below my boobs, around outside on the doorknob side, and shut the door on it. I found that I could not lean forward a bit, as the rope was holding my back against the door. He smiled and dropped his pants.

I realized I really was his Trophy Wife, and the party had just started.