Dottie 29.
Deep breath. Deep breath.
On a shaky exhale, I begin unwrapping the binding around my abdomen. I pause for just a second, then let it fall to the floor.
Ew. That’s a big fucking scar. Hip to hip just above my pubic hair. An approximation of a belly button is a couple of inches above that. Though it looks more like an asshole.
Moving on.
I unclip the bandage between my breasts and carefully wind it back up, hissing a few times at the movement and stretch of muscle involved. Eyes shut tight; it joins the other binding on the floor of the bathroom.
Shit. I can’t look.
My drainage tubes were removed yesterday, and Dr. Hudson advised continuing with the binding for a little longer, to give myself extra support as everything heals. And it is. He said he’s very happy with my progress 4 weeks post-op. I can begin slowly increasing my activity and most importantly I need to stand up straight. No more hunchback for me.
With that reminder, I slowly straighten my spine, feeling the pull in my stomach and chest, but it isn’t too bad. Irritation more than pain. I haven’t seen myself yet, though. I’ve avoided looking at every doctor’s visit, every time my sisters or Judi change my bandages. I couldn’t, not yet.
But I’ve been a wuss for too long. I’m going to look different, that’s obvious. I feel different. And I’ve been through this before. I can do this. My sisters need me to do this. Ezra needs me to do this. With him in mind, I open my eyes and gasp. My hand comes up to my mouth as my throat tightens and my eyes tear up.
My tattooed nipples are gone. Of course. Adam will just have to give me some new ones…maybe? I’m not sure where they would go. I’m bruised but it’s fading. My new breasts are still swollen, but Hudson said that would continue to go down over the next few weeks. It’s just…where the areolas should be, are instead, large circular wounds on their way to scarring. They aren’t as perky as they were, and that’s to be expected since I no longer have an artificial implant, but fat and tissues from my abdomen. I tilt my head as I examine them. Not as perky, but still high and tight, sort of.
I step back from the mirror and take in my entire naked form. I look at it from an outsider’s perspective and a deep laugh works its way up and out as I start sobbing. My torso looks like a smiley face in a horror movie! Ezra isn’t going to want to look at me. I don’t want to look at myself!
“Dot?” I hear Ezra call for me through the door, but I can’t answer him. I can do nothing but stare at the abomination in the full-length mirror wishing Hudson had taken my eyes. “Dottie!” Both hands at my mouth now, I use them to stifle the sound of my heart tearing open. I’m supposed to be happy to be alive, and I was until right this moment. Oh, God! I look…I look—
“Baby!” Ezra screams for me as he kicks open the locked door. Rushing to me, he quickly assesses the bathroom for any threat and finding none, steps in front of me, blocking my view of the mirror, and cups my face. He futilely wipes at the tears that won’t stop on my cheeks, panicked eyes darting back and forth between mine. “Dottie, what the hell? You scared me half to death!”
I open my mouth, I try to tell him, but the words die on my tongue. And then I realize I’m naked in front of him and I start panicking and backing away, raising my arms to ward him off, searching for a towel, something to cover myself with.
He follows me slowly, his hands in front of him like he’s trying to calm a wounded animal. I am wounded. To the depths of my soul. I’m hideous and someone tried to use my pain and suffering for their own gain. My father was willing to bargain with my life because some degenerate thought this… this is what his collection was missing? My misery aroused him, whoever he is.
“Dot—”
“NO!” I shake my head side to side, “NO! You can’t…you need to leave…I’m not…you can’t see me…”
Up against a wall and nowhere to go, Ezra catches me, pulling me against his body and holding me so tight I can hardly breathe. “Shh. Baby. I’m not going anywhere. Now or ever. I see you. I see all of you. And I love every bit of you.”
“You can’t, I’m awful, I’m grotesque!”
“Shut the fuck up.” He barks, gently pushing me away, his hands holding my shoulders firmly. “Don’t you ever fucking speak like that again. You have been through hell and back and you are so much fucking stronger for it. I am in awe of you. I love you.” He moves his hands to my cheeks and lightning fast fuses his mouth to mine. His tongue parts my lips forcefully and invades my mouth. All the fight leaches from my muscles as I melt into him. I focus on his tongue, his hands, the erection that strains against my stomach and I forget what I look like, what I’ve endured.
Mouths together, hands dancing across my skin, Ezra manages to rid himself of his own clothing, and ushers us into the walk-in shower. Warm water cascades down his chest and across my fingertips as I mold my palms to his pecs.
“Open your eyes, baby.” He whispers against my lips. When I obey, my clit throbs at the hunger that stares back at me. Pure. Unadulterated. Lust. “There you are. Watch me.” I nod dumbly, unsure what I’m watching, but I’m doing it anyway. Ez grabs the soft loofah and body wash. When it’s lathered up, he washes my entire body, with such tender care my throat tightens again with emotion. I’m done crying though. He kisses, licks, and sucks every inch of me after he washes and rinses me clean. On his knees, he looks up at me from under his lashes with a smirk. “You watching?” I nod again, my hands itching to grab his hair and move him where I want him.
He lifts my leg over his shoulder, and with his eyes on mine, he sticks out his tongue and licks me from hole to clit and back again, dipping it inside me before repeating. Over and over until I’m babbling, my hands slap against the tile and my lower belly tightens.
And then he stops.
“Motherfucker!” I growl. He laughs, his entire body shaking from the force of it. He turns off the water, opens the door, then scoops me up and walks us out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He sets me down on the bed.
“On your stomach, flat on the bed.”
“Ez?”
“On your back, your body will move too much, and I don’t want your tits to hurt.” His words are like a stitch in my broken heart. I get in position, my elbows bent, and my forearms braced beside my chest to absorb any movement. Goosebumps pimple my skin as he straddles my thighs. He runs his hands lovingly along my spine, over my ass, before jiggling it with a growl. “You are fucking perfection, Dot. Everything about you turns me on.” Another stitch. His fingers are low on each cheek, and he spreads them, “The things I want—BWAAAP—THE FUCK!”
“OH MY GOD!” His weight is gone instantly. I’m laughing so hard I can barely see as I lift my head to find him. He’s naked, glistening from the shower, his body twisted with his hands on the wall as if he’s trying to claw his way through, his eyes wide as he stares at me with his mouth open. I splay my arms out and laugh hysterically.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”
“My pussy.”
“No. That was a demon trying to escape your…your…”
“Pussy.” I finish for him. “And not a demon. You made me so wet in the shower and DIDN’T LET ME FINISH, and an air pocket was created.”
“A queef? Not a fart?”
“I didn’t fart! And even if I did, why are you all the way over there?”
“I was in fear for my life, woman!”
“It’s your fault.” I counter, laying my head back down on my folded arms.
“How is vagina demon my fault?”
“If you’d fill me with your cock instead of air, it wouldn’t happen.”
“Baby.” We’re both laughing as he crawls warily back up my body. He straddles my pinned legs and hesitantly separates my ass cheeks again to peek at my pussy. When nothing happens and no demons try to take his soul, he lazily thrusts forward, his cock shuttling through my cleft. “You want filled up with my cock?”
“I do.” I moan, fighting the urge to rock my hips, knowing it’ll be uncomfortable.
“Then you’ll get my cock.” His hips dip down and when he thrusts again, he sheaths himself inside me. He feels so much bigger like this, or maybe it’s because we haven’t had sex in about a month. “Fucking’ hell, Dot.”
“Ezra!” I moan again, moving my arms back to my sides to brace myself as he starts to move.
“Your pussy just gets better and better. You’re so tight like this. No room for air when I fuck you like you need it.”
Never imagined I’d laugh so much with a partner, joke around during sex. I get to live with and love my best friend for the rest of my life. And the harder he fucks me, the faster he ruts, the more I remember who I am.
“I’m Dorothy Fucking Goldman!”
“Yeah, you are.”
“I am a badass bitch!”
“Well, let’s not bring To—”
“Ain’t nothing and nobody going to stop me!”
“I won’t let them.” He blankets my body, his damp chest against my sweaty back. His arms on either side bracketing me. His thighs against mine, his cock so deep as he swivels his hips. “Dorothy Fucking Goldman. Never forget who you are. And don’t ever doubt me. I want your body…all the fucking time. But it’s your heart I need.”
There’s the last stitch.