Ied

Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.

All comments good or bad welcomed. I will try and reply to each and every one but please note that all email comments from an invalid email address will be deleted immediately and will not be read.

Our patrol had been in northern Afghanistan, why we were there, that was not our concern. The British army was there, I was British army and so I was out on patrol. Our vehicle was a Foxhound four wheel drive armoured vehicle, supposedly one of the best out there, and that gave us some comfort. In truth, we just went where we were told, where the insurgents were believed to be. Our weapons usually worked and we assumed our patrol vehicles would too.

We had been going about thirty minutes when Taff, the driver, slowed and held his hand up, we braced, something had unsettled him. There was a loud bang, some shaking, a bright flash, the Fox rolled and that is the last thing I clearly remember.

My memory had sounds of guns, of shooting, pain, lots of pain, darkness, a hospital tent, more darkness, and I think I remember flying, and then bouncing of roads, more darkness and then I woke up in a British hospital. Queen Elizabeth in Birmingham. That told me it was serious, whatever it was, they don't tend to take you to the QE for minor injuries. This could be the end of my army career. There was a lot more darkness, pain, a lot of pain, I couldn't tell where exactly, it seemed everywhere, more drugs, doctors and then the news.

My room started to fill up. There was a nurse, I think, a doctor and someone that I had no idea of, and then the specialist. The specialist checked the board at the end of my bed and then looked at the monitors.

"Right then Kayleigh," the specialist said, his voice soft. "I am Mr Davidson, I am your consultant. Your legs were shattered in the attack. Both femurs were badly splintered as were the ball joints at your hips. Luckily no major artery damage, and no damage except to your two legs, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation, There were also no other injuries to your body. Our only viable option, I am afraid, is double amputation. Now I know that you must be worried about that, but the operation is very straight forward, and we have a lot of confidence that there are unlikely to be any complications."

Fuck. I had no words. All I could think of was when I go to the pub no one will buy me a drink. "Can't get her a drink, she's already legless."

"We will remove one leg and then two days later the other. This gives your body the best chance to overcome the operating theatre trauma. I will do your left leg tomorrow, and then the right, assuming nothing unforeseen, two days later. We cannot delay I am afraid. Do you have any questions?"

I couldn't even speak, never mind ask questions, I shook my head. They all filed out; except the one person I couldn't identify. She spoke.

"Hello Kayleigh, I am Doctor Jansen. I specialise in non-physical trauma, and it is my job to help you get through the loss of your legs."

Why couldn't she say she was a shrink?

"Now I know," she said, "that this must be frightening, the end of your life etc, but really it isn't."

I said nothing, I didn't know what I was thinking to be honest. A wheelchair for the rest of my life, that was depressing enough.

"Well Kayleigh," she said, "I will let you think about it, I will come by the day after your first surgery and we can talk then."

She got up and went, I just lay there trying not to think of anything. A little later mum and dad came in.

"Baby," mum said, "they just told us."

I looked at mum and I cried, she came across and together we were sobbing. Dad just stood there not knowing what to say or do, he always was rubbish when mum cried, it's no different now.

The next day they removed my left leg, all of it from the hip joint down. It was odd, because I could still wiggle my toes. I cried, I cried a lot. The day after they left me pretty much alone except for Dr Jansen who I ignored, I did not want to speak to her, what could her words say that would help me. And then the next day they took my right leg. All of it.

The next day the pain killers began to wear off and I had terrible pain in my legs, the legs I don't have any more.

"Phantom Neuralgia" Mr Davidson said, "it is difficult because drugs have little effect on a limb that isn't there anymore. We will try you on some strong NSAIDs, that is, nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs, I think Indomethacin initially, we will see how your body reacts to that. When you are home you can get Ibuprofen from the chemist without prescription, or higher strength from your GP."

"How the fuck can I get to the chemist without legs, no one taught me to fly, come to think of it, I haven't actually seen anyone fly."

"I know it is difficult Kayleigh, but you will adjust, people do, I and my team will be here and available for you until you are discharged, and we won't discharge you until we know that your home has been suitably adapted." Looking back, I can admire his patience, I wasn't exactly being pleasant.

I wanted to lash out at him again, but the rational part of me knew that it wasn't really his fault, all he had done is remove my shattered legs. If he hadn't, then I would have died. A part of me would have preferred death. I started crying again. My dad stood up and came over to my bed and put his arms around me.

"Baby," he said softly, "I can't do much, but whatever I can do to help, I will. I will make it so that you do not have to rely on me or mum, that you will have a life after this. It will take time, a whole lot of time probably, but we will get through this. I give you my solemn promise."

I just cried. I knew dad was trying his best, but what could he do? There wasn't even a stump to attach a false leg to. I was fucked. More accurately, that was the one thing that was unlikely to happen ever again, being fucked that is.

I was in hospital for another three weeks. The phantom pains had reduced such that I could almost ignore them. Dad had been doing alterations at home. What was the downstairs dining room was now my bedroom. The downstairs loo had been expanded and converted to a wet room and loo. Ramps had been installed at each of the outside doors. A wheelchair had been sourced that I could drive using a joystick. Oh, deep joy, I had mobility.

My GP had signed forms saying that I was permanently disabled and I applied for PIP, the replacement for Mobility Allowance, and also for compensation as I was injured on active service in the armed forces. None of it will give me my legs back, all of it takes a stupid amount of time.

The wheelchair was a challenge. I was basically a rocking robin, I had nothing to stop me rolling in the chair, and it made me sore, it hurt my fanny to be honest, my fanny rubbed on the seat. I had seat belts to keep me strapped in, but little to sooth my groin.

"You look in trouble sweetheart," dad said as he looked at me squirming in my wheelchair, it was lightweight, it didn't need any footrests and was battery powered.

"It's nothing you can do to help dad." I had given up being embarrassed, my dad had seen me pretty much naked so many times since I came back from Afghanistan, I think he knew my anatomy better than I did.

"Tell me."

"All my weight is on my groin. My groin is not designed to support my weight and I am getting sore. In fact I may be getting blisters or sores."

"Ah. I see. Let me look."

"I will hold the arm rests and flip myself forward. You can pull my knickers off and see what I mean."

I held my body weight up, and dad pulled my knickers off, that didn't take much effort to be honest. I was thinking of giving up on knickers, they were pretty useless anyway with their redundant leg holes, and start just wearing long skirts.

Dad started looking closely, and then he told me to relax, and he looked again at what was sitting where.

"Right then, baby. May I touch, only it is your intimate area?"

"Yes dad, of course," I answered and pulled myself up again and off the wheelchair. Dad touched me, my labia and the scar tissue that was where my legs used to be. I got a bit of a tingle when dad touched me, and that was the first time since the incident. I may have blushed, I didn't expect it, but it happened. And then dad touched me again, and then he was moving my labia about and I was getting hotter and hotter, pressures were growing, electrics were building, and all I could think of was 'but it's my dad, I shouldn't react like this.'

And then the unthinkable, dad touched my clitoris and I exploded, trying desperately to suppress the scream that needed to escape my mouth, my arms gave way and I fell back into the chair, dad's finger sliding down my crease and somehow ending up inside me as I landed on his hand. I was gasping, my chest heaving as I struggled to regain my breath.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," dad said, looking at his hand buried beneath me, and then when he wiggled it, realising where his finger was.

"Dad don't worry. Biology." I managed, last thing I needed was dad too embarrassed or reluctant to help me. "Perhaps I needed that dad, thank you."

I lifted myself up and dad slowly withdrew his finger almost giving me another moment, I gasped and looked at dad, trying to smile as his finger left and he pulled his hand from beneath me.

"Dad, don't worry, there is no boyfriend going to be angry and looking to wreak revenge."

"But I shouldn't have, it's wrong."

"Dad, no one knows dad, and no one will ever know."

I did notice that his trousers had bulged, perhaps I should help him out. But not now. I did hear the subdued sounds of their love making at night, it seemed every night. I wonder if it was a reaction to seeing his daughter's fanny every day. Did mum object, or did she understand his need, or did she simply want it as much as him? I had no idea what older people did in terms of frequency of sex. I did sort of think that they slowed down, but not my folks, they fucked every day.

"I have a solution," dad said. " I will make a mould that we can use on the cushion of your chair. It will put most of your weight on the horns of your pelvis, leaving the weight off your, er," he paused.

"Fanny dad," I said, "fanny."

"Er, yes, off your fanny. I will get the mould materials today and we can probably make it later or tomorrow. You will need to shave though, the mould material will stick to your hairs."

"Okay dad. I will have to ask for help with that probably."

Dad nodded, "yes, probably mum would be best, that might be a bit too close for comfort or me. I will ask your mum to put shaving stuff in your wet room."

"But dad, you are the shaving expert of the house."

He looked at me aghast. I smiled and blew him a kiss. Dad had installed a hoist next to my bed. It had a remote that I could use. It wrapped around my torso and under my bust and I could swing from the bed into my chair. I could then go anywhere I liked in my chair. The floor in my bedroom was wooden, so the chair moved easily. There hadn't been room in the wet room for a hoist, but dad had installed a load of ropes with hand hold loops on that I could use to get from my chair into the shower or onto the toilet. It wasn't perfect, but it worked, and dad said he was designing a compact hoist and travel system that would work better, but it would be a while.

At least now I could shower and go to the loo without help, I still hadn't ventured out of the house, that was still a challenge too far for me. Mum and dad had talked about perhaps a commode type wheelchair so I could use the disabled toilets when I did eventually go out.

I got myself into the bathroom, wheeled into the shower, shut the door, hoisted myself into the shower seat and prepared to shave my fanny. Well, what a rigmarole. I guess you don't realise how important legs are when you are trying to sit and manoeuvre and shave down there, I was rolling around like a tenpin. I called mum.

"Mum, I have to shave my fanny, so that dad can make a mould, but I can't see down there and I keep rolling around."

"No problem sweetheart, yes, let me help. I think we might get you an electric razor, they are much easier. Or perhaps we could try waxing."

"Whatever you think mum, but for now, can we just shave me?"

Mum rubbed shaving gel everywhere and then put the shower head on the lower hook so that she could rinse the razor. Bizarrely the manual razor that they had got for me actually vibrated, and how I managed to control myself I do not know. I knew I could have fun with it when I was alone, but not at the hands of my mum. It was a very close run thing.

Finally shaved smooth and rinsed, mum left me to it and I completed my shower while I was there. I had let my hair grow ever since the injury and it was now down over my shoulders. I hadn't decided how long I would let it grow, may be as long as it would. I didn't know, but it meant more of a chore with shampoo and conditioner, but then, I had little else to do.

Because I couldn't bend over a sink, I had to sit under the shower water and rinse all the suds off my hair on to me, and then off me onto the floor. It was, in a way, quite sensual. The shower that dad had installed also had a hot air feature, and I usually used that to dry my body rather than a towel, but it also worked on my hair, after a fashion. My hair ended up damp rather than wet, but that was an improvement.

Dad came back with his mould making stuff.

"Okay sweetheart, I have gone for an Alginate system, it is finer and will get more of the finer details of you down there."

I guess that was better, I didn't know. I made my way to the wet room and stayed in my chair ready to do what dad needed, the thinking being that the wet room would be easier to clean afterwards. Dad brought in a frame and then went into the kitchen to mix the stuff for the mould.

"Right baby," dad said, "I am putting the mould on the floor of the shower, I will fill it with the cast, and then you need to lower yourself on it and hold still for fifteen minutes, is that okay? Oh, and you probably want to take your top off and just leave your bra on."

"Okay dad, only, sorry, not wearing a bra, so you will have to look at my boobs."

It went as you would expect, I was naked, and dad poured the cast into the mould and I hoisted and lowered myself on to it, and I sat still for fifteen minutes my eyes at dad's crotch level and looking at the bulge in his trousers.

After fifteen minutes I hoisted myself up and back into my wheelchair. Dad passed me my top which I put back on. His bulge didn't go back down. Mum was out, so he would probably have to wait until later to deal with it. I wheeled out of the way and went back to my bedroom whilst dad inspected the mould casting.

He came into the bedroom and as he came in I could see that his bulge was very pronounced after he had examined the mould he had made of my fanny.

"The cast is perfect Kayleigh. I will be able to use it and ease your plight in your chair."

"Thank you dad," I said, "now, come here please."

He came closer and I grabbed his belt and pulled him closer.

"Now dad, you need some help," I said undoing his belt and then his trousers, pushing them down and releasing his dick.

"But Kayleigh," dad said, I interrupted him.

"No buts dad, only you and me here, no one will ever know and you need this."

"But this is wrong baby," he said. I ignored him.

I held his dick and rocked forward and took it into my mouth, sucking and licking. Dad was groaning, his pleasure audible. His dick was around seven, maybe eight inches long and I couldn't quite wrap my fingers around it. I pushed his foreskin back with my tongue and then ran my tongue around the edge of his glans, his knees buckled, pulling me further forward and his dick deeper down my throat. He moaned loudly and held my head and began to rock, fucking my face.

I was surprised at how much I loved the action, I had been resigned to being asexual but after dad gave me an accidental orgasm I had rethought that situation, dad was in need and I wanted to thank him. I began to move my hand on his shaft, accentuating his fuck with my wank, dad was gasping quite loudly and his fingers were squeezing my head. I licked the little hole at the end of his dick and spread the bead of juice that I found there around his glans, dad twitched. I slowly licked around the edge of his glans just above his bunched foreskin and then sucked, dad twitched again.

I pushed forward as much as I could and dad's dick slid over my tongue, past my tonsils and into my throat and dad gulped loudly, and gasped.

"Baby, I can't hold on," he said, his voice high pitched, I said nothing, my mouth was full, and then I felt the pulses as his dick erupted down my throat, sending his seed to my stomach, three spurts I felt go down, and then I eased back and licked his dick clean before letting him fall from my mouth, straightening myself by pushing myself upright using his chest, looking at his softening dick.

"Now dad, isn't that better, and no harm done."

"Yes baby, thank you," he managed, "but we still shouldn't, it is wrong."

"No one will know and so no one can judge dad."

Dad helped lift me back onto my bed, laying me back on my pillow, he then he tucked his dick away and redid his trousers. Good timing, the front door opened and mum called hello.

Later I rang the doctor saying I needed an appointment. I was still on their high priority list, so I got an appointment for early in the morning. Mum said she would take me, I still hadn't got my adapted car, it was going to be a few more weeks yet.

I slept well that night with dreams of dad fucking me leaving me breathless and hot. I awoke and needed a shower as well as the loo. Much hoisting later I was in the wet room, and I don't care what anyone thinks, I peed in the shower.

The journey to the doctor only took a few minutes, more time was spent putting the wheelchair into the car and getting out again than was spent driving there. I was ushered in and mum stayed in the waiting room as I wheeled myself in. I explained that I needed more strong painkillers and also to go onto birth control. They would normally want to do an internal examination, but the surgery wasn't equipped with a hoist, so only a cursory exam could take place. The doctor then gave me an injection in my arm that would give me twelve weeks protection, but that I had to use a condom for the next two weeks. I could live with that and she gave me a packet of six condoms.

My medication was being delivered by post since the incident, and the doctor arranged for a regular supply of painkillers to be added to my usual delivery. I also had the usual painkiller side effect, and the doctor added some laxatives to the prescription too.

After we got home mum put the kettle on for tea, and I wheeled into the kitchen to chat to her whilst the kettle boiled. Dad was out somewhere, and mum said my brother Joe was coming for tea. I never really got on with Joe, I don't know why, but we always bickered, and he was one of the reasons I left to join the army. He had been back home to see me a few times since the incident, but we hadn't really chatted much. In the early days I didn't want to talk to anyone, especially someone who would pick an argument at the drop of a hat, so I pretty much ignored him when he visited. I felt I was more at peace with myself these days, perhaps today would be different.

Dinner was savoury mince with a jacket potato, it was okay, mum was never going to set the culinary world alight, but she always produced reasonable food that was tasty, just not mind blowing. After dinner I excused myself and went to my room, leaving Joe talking with mum and dad. After about fifteen minutes he knocked at my door.