This is a collection of glasses fetish and wheelchair fetish fictions written by my friends and some pictures and morphs of girls with glasses added as illustrations. Read About this blog for more information
You will have to excuse my writing, but I was asked by my father to finish this tale - more a series of observations really - just before he passed away last year. I am not nearly as proficient with words as he was, but I promised him I would do my best to complete his work, and publish it on the Internet.
During the last few years of the 1990’s, and into the beginning of this century, there were amazing strides made in medicine. Disease was becoming a thing of the past for anyone with money. Further, anyone with money was able to indulge themselves in all kinds of cosmetic surgery. It was very common for girls who had less than perfect breasts to have breast implants. It was reported that the rate was so high that one had to wonder if anyone really had natural boobs anymore. Vision surgery also had become so common that it looked as if all the eye doctors would soon go the way of the Cadillac (for those of you that don’t remember the Cadillac, it was the finest American car of its time). And the list went on, tummy tucks, nose jobs, face-lifts, and any other surgery imaginable was being done to change people into “perfect humans”. So, because poor eyesight and thick glasses had been virtually eliminated by contact lenses and laser surgery, the following story would seem almost unbelievable, if we hadn’t observed it first hand.
I eagerly opened the brown paper packaging that my parcel came in. The package inside was carefully bubble wrapped, and I pulled it off to reveal a silver case. What I had been expecting from a friend of mine in Germany was a pair of antique, high minus glasses, and I could hardly wait to open the silver case enclosed. I opened it carefully and found a pair of glasses, again surrounded by bubble wrap. I removed the final layer of bubble wrap, and carefully examined the glasses. They were rimless, with fine oval shaped lenses. Their width was perfect for my face, but as I stretched out the cable temples, and tried to slip them over my ears, I noted that the temple length of the original owner had been very short. Although the pupillary distance seemed about right for me, at 64 mm, I suspected that these glasses might have been originally the property of a very nearsighted young lady. Although the lenses were not what I would have technically called myodiscs, they were beveled all around the lens, giving a 3 to 4 mm oval border on the outside of the central oval lenses. They were lovely. I put them up to my eyes again, and felt the rush that always comes when I try to see through the blur of very strong myopic glasses.
It was a warm sultry afternoon when my boss on the newspaper called me into his office. "Kid" he called me "Have I got a job for you. You are nearsighted aren't you?" "Chief, you know I am as blind as a bat without these coke bottles" came my reply "Wh at's up?" And he proceeded to tell me about a town up in the northern corner of the state. In order to live in this town you had to be nearsighted. No one got in through the gate unless they wore glasses for the correction of myopia. It was going to be my job to go up there, and interview the town mayor, who also happened to be the town eye doctor.
The hardest thing about moving to a new area is finding a new group of friends to socialize with. I don't have a problem meeting people, but my wife has always been very reserved, and has not taken quickly to new people. So, as I have done in the past, I let her meet the neighbors, and select the ones that she wanted to be friendly with. We had gone to a number of outdoor parties that various folks had held over the summer, and Janice, our neighbor across the street seemed to be the one that my wife liked best of all.
I still remember how it all started. Saturday, April 10, sitting in the doctor's waiting room, waiting to find out why I'd been feeling so tired and bruising so easily lately. I thought maybe he was going to tell me I was anemic or something like that, but I was completely unprepared for what he did say- "You have cancer". He said a lot of other things, too, of course, about different types of blood cells and their counts, treatment options, odds of remission, but I didn't hear much after that initial shocking statement. I mean, I was only 22, in my final year of earning a Bachelor's degree in Graphic Design, and I'd always been healthy apart from the usual colds and flus and really lousy (wonderful) eyesight (more on that later). I was at a point in my life where a door to a whole new world was just starting to open and give me a glimpse of the world beyond my little neighborhood and family, and here this doctor was slamming that door shut in my face!
A Day in the Life of a Bare-Eyed Minus 4 (or possibly a bit more, pending examination):
Saturday, January 5, 2008
I wake up, yawn and stretch, and squint at the little Baby Ben alarm clock on my bedside table (I already know it's utterly useless to try and make out the time on the clock on the wall opposite my bed (my room is about 12' by 12'), but just for kicks I make an attempt. Not only can I not make out that the numbers are even there, I can just barely even see that the clock is there, the pink rim is close to completely blending in with the white wall it hangs on). Seeing it isn't terribly late, knowing this is a Saturday and having spent the previous evening staying up late on the computer listening to music and reading old Specs4Ever stories, I consider going back to sleep. Then I happen to spot my glasses laying on the bedside table and I think "Why don't I make this a bare-eyed weekend?" That gets me excited, so I'm up out of bed.
Brrrring! Brrrring! Went Paige’s telephone. "Hello? Oh, hi, Stacy! What’s up?"
"Well, I just got home and I’ve missed you so much I was wondering if I could come over and see you and, you know, have one last wild weekend before school starts?"
"Oh, Stace, I’ve missed you too! How was it, spending the summer in California with your Dad?"
"It was great, but really I’m glad to be home. Did I miss anything while I was gone?"
"Well, there’s this guy and we-"
"Well, Lauren, that's some black eye you've got yourself there! It looks OK on the inside, though. But I'm afraid you have a small fracture on the bridge of your nose. Naturally, it's not exactly a place were we can put a cast or anything, so what I suggest you do is don't touch your nose for a few days, apply ice periodically to keep the swelling down and come back in a week and we'll see if it's healing straight. If not, we can do plastic surgery later, if you wish. Your mother says you got this from walking into furniture-that ought to teach you to walk around without your glasses!" That was a very dumb thing for the doctor to say, because
Nancy Anderson’s Opus the last part of The Myopia Fairy Tale
by All4Eyes and Specs4ever
Nancy walked out to the car, where Mike was already waiting. She and Mike were heading back to school on this Friday evening for a baby shower for one of the younger teachers. As Nancy got in the car, she glanced over at Mike. He still looked so darned handsome that even after 27 years of marriage and 2 wonderful children Nancy could still hardly believe her good fortune. Of course, her good fortune had all been due to Lana, the Myopia Fairy saddling Nancy with –27D of myopia when she was 27 as punishment for the way Nancy had been so insensitive to the needs of and the problems of people who needed or wore glasses. An immediate need for constant wear of –27D myodiscs had soon taught Nancy a lesson, and she changed her ways immediately. Nancy even redeemed herself so much she was offered a chance to regain her previously perfect eyesight, but since she had attracted the interest of Mike Anderson the minute she showed up at school wearing myodiscs, Nancy decided that she would rather wear strong myodiscs for the rest of her life if it meant having Mike as her husband.
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times-it was the school days of The Myodisc Club's children. It was the best of times for Mike and Nancy Anderson's daughter Kaylee, a third grader with a sunny smile and only one fear in the world-for obvious reasons, she dreaded being separated from her -22D glasses, so much so she even slept in them, starting a trend amongst all the Myodisc Club children, even though some of them were not yet in myodiscs themselves, of wearing prescription goggles (which were more comfortable and wouldn't come off or break when one rolled over) to bed. Kaylee had started wearing glasses with a -20 prescription by the time she was 6 months old, and while her current -2D increase over a 4 year period was relatively small considering the strength she started with, her parents did wonder if her prescription might experience a larger leap once Kaylee reached her teens.
After the Myopia Fairy made Nancy Anderson very nearsighted, she became quite vigilante watching for, and helping, students who had vision problems. Lately Carrie Stone had been doing a lot of squinting in Nancy’s class, and of course Nancy had noticed this. It had only been a couple of months since Carrie had gotten her glasses, but already her prescription was obviously too weak for her. Nancy had to phone Carrie’s mother, and tell Amanda that Carrie needed to have another eye examination. To Nancy’s surprise Amanda replied that she had also noticed this and had booked an exam for Carrie the following day. Nancy had previously thought that Amanda was so self centered that she had probably not even noticed that Carrie was having problems seeing, but her awareness of her daughter’s vision problems made Nancy realize that Amanda probably wasn’t really that bad a person.
Nancy woke from a deep sleep. She reached to her side table for her glasses, and as her fingers touched the familiar frames she felt a feeling of relief wash over her. Of course Mike would have placed her glasses in exactly the same place that she herself always did; she should not have doubted him at all. Nancy slid the heavy glasses into place on her nose, and her world came gradually into focus as she slid the lenses closer to her eyes. Now she could see the numbers on the alarm clock. “I slept for a long time,” Nancy thought. Mike had left shortly after they had their usual Sunday morning sexual interlude to play 18 holes of golf with his best friend Jamie, who just happened to have married Beth, Nancy’s very best friend only 6 months previously.
Note: If you want to read the first part, go to The Myopia Fairy 1
Nancy Stewart had been going out with Mike for over 3 months now. She had figured out very quickly what Lana, the Myopia Fairy, had meant when Nancy had suddenly been given the –27D of myopia that she was now coping with. Lana’s words were "Like I said, it’s not really a punishment, and I think you will soon come to see that." If it hadn’t been for the severe myopia that she now had that forced her to wear myodisc lensed glasses, she would never have attracted the attention of Mike Anderson, the teacher in the classroom next to hers who was so smart, handsome and nice that she would have done anything in the world to attract his attention. The instant Mike had seen Nancy wearing that first pair of temporary myodiscs, he had had asked her out, and they had been together as a couple ever since. Nancy was so thankful to Lana for her myopia that she wished that Lana would appear to her again, so she could thank her in person.
As she was driving home from her job as a teacher at George Dubya Bush Jr. High, Nancy Stewart noticed that the street signs seemed a bit fuzzy. “Wow, I must really be tired” she thought. All her life Nancy had had perfect vision, better then perfect in fact, 20/10. So she was a bit puzzled but not too concerned about the sudden blurriness - a good nights’ sleep should take care of it. Soon she was home, really just a little apartment that she shared with her cat, Furball, but she tried to fix it up nice. Still, it got lonely sometimes and she thought about Mike Anderson, the nice, smart, handsome teacher of the class next door to hers. She was terrifically attracted to him, but she was too shy to tell him so, and he never seemed to notice her. Sitting on the sofa watching TV and eating a Freezer Queen entrée (it’s too much bother to cook for just one) she noticed that the blur she’d had driving home was getting worse. She could no longer see the expressions on the faces of the TV characters, unless she squinted, and looking around she realized just about everything more then a couple feet away from her was quite fuzzy and she began to worry.
Every word of this is 137% true, right down to the names. To protect the innocent, I used only first names, except for my eye doctor, who I’m sure won’t mind a free plug.
I have often wondered exactly how and when my unusual fascination with all things visual began. I suppose it could have started when I was 6 years old and my mother became blind due to Multiple Sclerosis. She could only see shadows, light and dark and this lasted for about a year and a half before she got her sight back. I think this is also when I learned to love reading, because she would ask me to help by reading things to her. “But, Mama, I can’t really read yet” I would say and she’d say “But you can read some words and the ones you don’t know you can spell and I’ll tell you what they are”. I think it made me feel important to be helping her that way. At that point in time, I was not yet concerned with myopia or eyeglasses, just with blindness, although my father wore glasses (plus lenses) and my mother had worn minus glasses before she went blind and wore them again when her sight came back. Maybe I identified with my mother a bit as well. Anyway, during the time my mother was blind and for a while afterwards I used to blind fold myself and try to walk around and do things that way. I was curious about what it was like for her and also I enjoyed “being blind” like her. I also developed a bit of a phobia about going blind myself for real. I think this may have been behind a lot of my initial reading about eyes and vision, trying to reassure myself it wouldn’t happen. I find it interesting how close fear and fascination often are.
It was a Saturday afternoon when Caitlin walked through the mall near her apartment. As Caitlin strolled from store to store, she reflected on her encounter of a few days ago. That had been at a different mall, further from home. She had taken her wheelchair out that time; wheelchairs and paraplegics had long fascinated Caitlin. By college Caitlin had realized that her desire was to actually need to use a wheelchair despite her very able and pretty body.
Ok, well here is another story. I was going to call it Adrift In A Snowstorm, which you will see from the tale is a pun on words, but since I am temporarily Unemployed, I am calling it Unemployed It was a very cold, gray winter day, and it had snowed all day, sometimes heavily. Jack was sitting alone in the office waiting for his boss who was bringing his paycheck. His boss had probably been delayed by the bad weather. Jack had finished all of his work. He had unloaded the big trailer, placing the freight in neat rows on the dock, all sorted, palletized and ready to go on the smaller delivery trucks for Monday morning. Then, he had given the interior of the cab of his truck a good cleaning, as he usually did several times a year. But, every year just before Christmas, he always did a much better job. Memories came back to him of how he had done the same thing with his room many years ago, when he was a little boy, to impress his mom, and to possibly receive more presents from Santa. It was kind of a routine and he had kept it up even after he had found out that Santa was not for real.
Well into the flatlands of Nebraska there used to be a place that I would stop at with great regularity. The old buildings, if not gone by the time you read this, will be sitting unused, as new buildings and facilities have been built to replace the old ones that served travelers and truckers so well for so many years. I had almost forgotten the tale that I am about to tell, until the other day when I stopped in for one last visit to the old place before it closed.
It was a very warm late fall day when I pulled off the highway and into the truck stop. I needed a full service on my rig, and I would often stop here to have the work done. As I have so often described in the past, I will sometimes travel around wearing a fairly strong pair of glasses, so I won't bore anyone with the details that I have recounted so many times before. On one or two of my other stops at this place, when I was wearing my glasses, I recall that Tommy, the youngest mechanic had seemed to stare at my glasses with more than a bit of interest, but I really wasn't sure.
Yes, go ahead, laugh at me if you will, but I really can’t stop this foolishness. Every time I try, within a few weeks I am back doing it again. If you are a first time reader of my stories, you will not understand what I am talking about, but those of you that know me understand that I am talking about glasses. Not just normal pairs of glasses, but nice strong glasses, glasses with thick lenses, specifically for the purpose of correcting the more severe forms of myopia.
I'm not going to do it anymore I muttered to myself. This is crazy. A mid-fifties man with a glasses obsession. And not just pretty ladies in glasses obsession, but a real attraction to ladies in very strong minus lensed glasses. As well, an obsession to wear strong minus lensed glasses myself. For the last 15 years of my life I had let this obsession control me. No more - darn it! I was going to stop this foolishness right now.
"Good afternoon, everyone" said the tall, sixtyish man, balding but still with a pretty good physique under a simple blue business suit and amber-green hazel eyes behind thick minus lenses set in slim silver rims, so that they stuck out of them front and back. "Since we have a new member here today, I thought we'd go around the table and introduce ourselves. My name is Ron, I'm the moderator of this group, my script is right -9.75 with 1 D astigmatism, left -10.25 with .75 D astigmatism, and a +3 add. Yes, I know you don't see it, aren't progressives grand? Oh, and I'm homovisual, of course."
The festival finished on Sunday with a big beautiful concert. When Mary and me were listening to the last piece we were holding each other’s hands. I felt the warmth of her skin; I often looked at her beautiful profile and enjoyed the music.
After the last tones and the last applause ended, the time to say each other good-bye came. I asked Mary for her address and her phone number. She smiled and told me I should be patient. She gave me her mobile phone number, but her address remained her secrecy. I was not sure what to think about it. Why did she not want to tell me where she was from? I told her where I lived and what my job was. I told her almost all the basic information except for my “hobby”, my desire to wear strong glasses that drove me to wear glasses of minus 18 diopters over plus contacts. You see it is not easy for me to confess a person that I am a high myopia pretender. I do not think most people are able to accept the fact let alone to understand that.
I came to my hotel room in a strange mood. I spent the day with a charming young lady, who showed me her friendship. She had dinner with me, she talked to me, and she held my hand at the concert. Her voice was calm and pleasant and her touch was warm. I liked staying with her. I enjoyed listening to the beautiful music with her. I liked her, but yet I did not feel happy. I felt badly because I met her again at one of my "pretender trips". Although I always felt it was the real me when I wore my plus contact lenses with the strong minus-eighteen-diopter glasses over them, that day I knew that the glasses were the biggest problem of mine. It was not the real Paul who she met. It was the other person, the person from my other life. How could she be a friend of a fake person?
During the month I met Mary in the zoo I had two more trips with my strong glasses on. I saw a very old castle and a National natural monument. Well, nothing special, you know, but I enjoyed both trips because they made me possible to spend some time with my strong glasses on.
I thought about Mary. I gave her my phone number in the zoo before we said each other good-bye, but she did not call me. I waited, I hoped she would call, because the atmosphere of our meeting in the zoo seemed to me very friendly. Then, at my second "glasses trip" I realized that people who are confined in wheelchair may think in a rather different way. Life is not easy for disabled people. Many of them are often quiet and withdrawn. She did not seem to be withdrawn when I met her, but one cannot make any conclusions after the first meeting. During my second trip I started to think that I would not see her again.
My name is Paul. I am a normal guy, single, almost thirty. I go to work every day as anybody else, watch TV as anybody else, side with my favorite soccer club as anybody else. But still there is a strange crazy side of my personality that I hide from the people who know me. I am a high myopia pretender.
The eye test was not going well. As soon as doctor Jablonsky told her to read the eye chart Lucie could see how much her eyes got worse during the last year. She could recognize the two biggest lines, the third line was quite bad, and the fourth line was a total blur. She was reading the letters slowly. V, P, O, Z, then she sighed.
„They aren’t clear, are they?“ asked the optician.
„OK, Let’s try some stronger lenses.“
The First Trip to Prague I hadn’t been to Prague for about 10 years before I made my secret trip to the city in summer 2004. There are two reasons why it can be called a secret trip: First, several of my friends and members of my family live in the city; second, I wanted to wear strong glasses for a few days in the city. To understand the latter reason it is to say I am really obsessed with strong glasses. I like women who have to wear strong glasses because of their visual handicap; and I like wearing strong glasses as well.
Jenny soon found out her husband Danny had a mistress. She was not sure first, but after a time she was almost sure. One day, when he had rather strange evening phone call she took the chance and, as soon as he left the room, she looked at the last received number in his mobile phone.
My Mother was a real beauty. She was tall and slim, she had beautiful hands with long fingers, her long hair was red and curly, her eyes were dark blue. She wore glasses. She had several pairs of glasses each of which she wore with different dresses, so that they matched. Her prescription often changed as anytime she became pregnant her eyes got worse. She used to say that each child cost her a lot of money and a few diopters. We were not poor and my Mother liked shopping so her glasses were quite expensive and very fashionable.
Since I was a small girl I wanted to be like her. I admired her, I loved her, I wanted to look like her. I liked wearing her clothes at home and pretending I was her. I also often wore her spare glasses.
Not only I have the thing for girls with glasses I also like wearing glasses, especially strong glasses. In fact, it is a kind of turn on for me. I bought a few pairs of contact lenses with plus diopters so that I could wear much stronger glasses than my normal glasses are. This trick is known as GOC, which stands for Glasses Over Contacts, on Internet. I knew there were more people like me, although I hadn’t met any of the GOC wearers. Neither I had met any other people who like their partners wearing strong glasses until one day that very late summer when this story happened.
Only two people were sitting in the compartment of the train. A dark-haired lady reading a magazine for women and a young man, who was trying to concentrate at a textbook the title of which read Statics for Civil Industry Volume I. Both of them were wearing glasses. The glasses of the man were quite modern with thin lenses of a low power. It was difficult to say if he really needed them to read. Probably they were more a fashion item than an optical aid, as the lenses were really thin. On the contrary, the glasses the lady was wearing were of a strikingly high power. Although the lenses were rather tinted, nothing could hide the huge optical power of those two pieces of glass. The edges of the lenses were thicker than the fashionable plastic frame. The rear held a small bowl ground into the material making the eyes of the woman looking small and sunken. The front surface was ground, too. It went inwards, it curved towards the lady’s eyes providing the lenses with a extra diopters.
That winter, I met Barbara for many times. She usually had her normal glasses on. She wore her minus 28-diopter glasses over contacts only some evenings, when we went to our favorite restaurant. I loved our GOC meetings. Anytime she wanted us to go with our GOC on she called me first and asked if I would mind wearing my GOC that evening. I always agreed, of course.
It took several weeks before Barbara had her GOC done. She did not tell me that she had made her first steps to get her own combination, because she wanted to surprise me. She just called me one day to ask me to come to the center of the town where she worked.I thought that we would go to the cinema or anywhere else where we liked going to when we were together. We liked spending our time visiting cinemas and galleries sharing our ideas on movies and modern art. But that day was different.
The sun was up in the sky shining brightly. I was with my girlfriend Barbara at the Sun Lake. It was nice to lie on the grass sunbathing. I almost fell asleep when Barbara spoke up.
"Bobby, how long has it been since you visited your ophthalmologist?"
I woke up from my lethargy.
"THIS IS THE YEAR...for your best lens-look EVER!!!" screamed the headline of a women's magazine. It seemed they all proclaimed it was the year of your best something ever. It was the January issue and just as people were tiring of their snowflake sweaters and Santa hats, so too were they tiring of their red-and-white-stripe "candy cane" frames and the glasses with one lens tinted red and one tinted green some had been wearing (the odd visual effect not deterring them from being in sync with the season) and were eager for a new look. Samantha picked up the magazine, blew off the dust (it was from a few years back) and opened it to the article about lens-looks.
In the autumn I was tired of the relationship with Jim. Although the first year after we had met he seemed to be the best guy in the world for me, although the second year everything was still going on well, the third year I realized he was not the right man. I got sick of his bodybuilding training, the strongish way he spoke, his friends, and his instructions that I should wear contact lenses instead of my glasses.
I sat in my office glancing over the paperwork that was piled up on my desk, and I half-heartedly opened another envelope, glanced at the bill inside, and placed it on the to-be-paid pile. I just wasn't with it today. Paperwork had never been my number one priority, and my procrastination about doing it had caused me more than a few problems when it came time to satisfy the government. But, I had no wish to go out into the store either, as I was as deep in the dumps as I could possibly be. I loved my work. I was totally fascinated by my customers and I had over the past 20 years built up the best, most respected optical shop in the metropolitan area. When I first decided that I wanted to open an optical store, based on my experiences, I discovered that there was a real need for an optical shop that specialized in strong prescriptions, so that is the market niche that I developed. And, for these 20 years, I had maintained all my original customers, as well as drawing many new customers from 2 other nearby cities.