Betrayal: Beth
The following was inspired by champsrus's 2001 story, "Wife Needs A Shoulder," in which a quadriplegic is unable to stop his wife from cheating, and is unable to defend himself from her lover, who takes great pleasure in abusing him as well. That story ends with a statement that it would be continued, but it was never finished.
While the initial premise remains the same, the characters are different, and the outcome of the story is much different.
One character in this story, Dr. Franklin Steiner and the Arrowhead Institute, were first mentioned in my story, "The Beast Within."
Many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.
For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen.
At least on paper...
Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc.
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And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...
My name is Tim Robinson, and the last year or so of my life would have to improve to be considered hellish. There are two reasons -- well, actually three -- for that.
First off, I was involved in an accident one day a little more than a year ago while I was riding my motorcycle. A trucker apparently didn't see me as he pulled out onto the highway and he hit me. As a result, several vertebrae in my spine were crushed, and I was paralyzed from the neck down.
About all I could do was blink my eyes and breathe. I could swallow with some difficulty, but only if I was taking in liquid or my food was pureed. I couldn't even chew, couldn't speak, and had no sensation whatsoever from the neck down. Don't even ask me about going to the bathroom. All the doctors at the hospital said I was lucky to even be alive.
Thanks to the multi-million dollar settlement I got from the trucking company, all of my medical expenses were covered and I now received a monthly stipend that would support my wife and I for the rest of our lives. Between that, my disability and the money my wife, Beth, made at her job, I knew we would be okay financially.
I remained in the hospital for six months before I was finally allowed to come home, and that's when my life got even worse.
"How's that?" the counselor asked, looking at me intently.
"I'm so ashamed I don't think I can even repeat what happened during those six months," I said, a tear falling down my cheek.
"That's okay," she said in response. "Everything you say here will be kept confidential. Remember, I'm here to help you heal." I nodded my head and took a sip of water before continuing. "Let's start with your marriage," she said. "Tell me a little bit about that."
I told her about my marriage to Beth -- how we met in college, then married after we both graduated. At the time of my accident, I was only 25 and we had been married for three years. I worked as a mechanical engineer and she worked as a paralegal for a big law firm downtown. We were able to afford a fairly large three-bedroom apartment.
Originally, we had planned on turning one bedroom into a nursery. The second bedroom was used as an office by both of us, but after my accident, the "nursery" was turned into my room, since it was large enough to accommodate all of my medical equipment.
Beth did all she could to take care of me the first month or so, but it was clear that she wasn't up to it, especially the bathroom stuff, so she sought help. Our neighbors, Don and Kathy Akins, said they would do what they could to help. At the time, I considered them friends, and since he was an attorney at Beth's firm, he often drove her into work.
Kathy was a nurse at a local hospital, so she would check in on me from time to time to make sure I was alright. She even helped us secure a home health nurse to check in on me during the day. After a month, it was obvious that Beth wasn't up to the task, even with all the help.
"And that's when Don stepped in?" the counselor asked.
"Yes," I said. It all began innocently enough, but I could tell that he had a thing for my wife. She often broke down crying and of course, he was always there to console her. I could hear them in the front room, making out on our couch. Then he would take her into what used to be our master bedroom and have sex with her.
"But it didn't end there, did it?" the counselor asked. I shook my head.
"No," I said. "Afterward, he would come into my room and put his finger under my nose so I could smell Beth on him. He would taunt me, telling me how sweet my wife's pussy is." I saw the look on the counselor's face. "Sorry," I said.
"Don't be," she said. "I need to hear it all, and there's nothing I haven't heard before."
"Then he would take his dick out and rub it on my face," I said. "He would laugh and tell me it was just in my wife's pussy and ass."
"Where was his wife during all this?" the counselor asked. "Was she working?"
"Yes," I said. "She often worked strange shifts and it wasn't unusual for her to be gone all night, working the graveyard shift."
"I see," the counselor said. "Go on." I took a deep breath before continuing.
"After about a month of that, he came in my room while Beth was taking a shower. He literally picked me up, spread my legs as wide as he could and," I began before tears started falling down my cheeks. I was so ashamed I couldn't even finish my statement.
"Did he sodomize you?" the counselor asked. I nodded my head as I wiped the tears off my face.
"Yes," I said quietly.
"How often did this happen?" the counselor asked.
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe a couple times a week or so for about four months. He even told me that he was going to bring some of his friends over to do the same thing to me."
"Did your wife know this was going on?" the counselor asked. I shrugged my shoulders.
"I don't know," I said. "She was never right there when it happened. She would always come by later and go on about how good it was we had friends like Don to help look after me. I'll never forget the day he brought in that damn monitor and set it up on my dresser. He had it hooked up to a camera and had me watch as he fucked my wife. Beth thought it was wonderful that he brought it in."
"When did the abuse stop?" the counselor asked.
"The day Dr. Steiner came by to see me," I said. I remembered that day like it was yesterday. Beth brought Dr. Steiner and my attorney into my room just a couple hours after Don had taken me. Dr. Steiner was an older, somewhat short, balding man, with a German accent. I thought back to that visit...
...
"Tim, there's a Dr. Steiner here to see you," Beth said, escorting him into my room. Dr. Steiner came over and introduced himself to me. He also introduced an assistant carrying a tablet. My lawyer, Alan Harrison, was also there.
"Tim, I'm Dr. Franklin Steiner, and I'm here to discuss a possible treatment for your condition," he said. He turned to Beth before continuing. "I'll take care of it from here, missy," he told her. "Please wait in the other room." She left the room, but I noticed a look of concern on her face. He turned back to me, pulled up a chair and sat looking at me eye-to-eye before speaking.
"Now, Tim, let me explain," he said. "I run a high-end research facility on Lake Arrowhead. We've been doing some groundbreaking research on 3-D bone reconstruction and implants to heal nerve damage. I think your case is tailor-made for us.
"I've looked at your chart and I know the extent of the damage you have suffered," he added. "I believe we can help you regain much, if not all, of your physical capabilities. Is that something you might be interested in? Please blink once for yes and twice for no." What else could I say to something like this? Of course, I blinked once.
"Good," he said with a smile. "Now, you need to understand this is all experimental but we have been given approval for human testing. And thanks to external grants we've received, it will cost you nothing whatsoever." That was good news, but I was a bit concerned about this being experimental.
"I know you're probably concerned about this being experimental," he said, as if reading my mind. "Don't let that concern you. If the operation isn't successful, you won't be in any worse shape than you are now. But I believe you are a good candidate and I have confidence that everything will work just fine. In fact, if we're as successful as I believe we will be, you will be even stronger than you were before the accident." That gave me some hope, so I listened as he explained the procedure.