She Loved Her Coque by matt carlson

Patches loved her coque. She couldn’t get enough of it either. She loved lying next to it late at night and with her good hand, trace her fingertips gently along the side of it; though it was a strange request to her life assistants asking them to lie it down beside her. But she didn’t care anymore about things like that. It was her coque and she would have it nearby! She sighed, thinking about it, her breathing deep. Even the form was elegant. Eyes shined while looking at its’ beautiful shape, the way it curved just right, the wideness of it. Fantasies danced in her dreams.

She had had only three coques her entire life. The others two, well they hadn’t fit the way she would have liked. When sitting on them, it had hurt quite frankly, made her feel as if they had been made for someone else. She was so happy when this third one arrived. She had ordered it to specific measurements with help from doctors. Yes, doctors were very helpful when it came to ordering a good robust coque that fit perfectly. After all, they were architects of the body these days, weren’t they?

The thing was, she couldn’t sit on it all day long. There was a moment where even the best, the finest coque ever created, was just too much. But at other times, before it began to feel painful, she would be trying to have a conversation while secretly sitting there on her coque (it was unseen by most people), loving its sensation while talking about (as usual) nothing to someone. Nowadays most conversations were quite limited to;  the toilet, food, a spoon, being wiped, her medications, her physical therapy, telling her hired slaves what to do (they were her hired hands, literally)…Anyway, she would utter her fewer and fewer syllables all the while thinking about her coque, the way it held her into place. She did its biding, not the contrary!

Of course, all that was in her head. She knew that it was a fantasy only. Between her and her coque, well, it couldn’t be more than just a temporary meeting of two; a coming together of hard plastic and bending flesh. It had to end one day. Unfortunately, the day came too soon. One morning, after following her usual routine of getting up (which actually meant someone else getting her up) well when they helped her sit on her coque, this time it didn’t fit. No matter how she twisted and fettered, demanding to be pulled up further to the right, then further to the left – nothing worked. Then crying out “Pull me back! Pull me back!” But that hadn’t worked either. The coque hadn’t changed: it was still as hard, still as beautiful, with the curves in all the right places. It was she who had changed. Her flesh was different today; bones having stretched off on a private agenda.

“Give me a ‘C’!” Cried out Gelledge to Patches. It was better to laugh than cry, wasn’t it?

Her once-upon-a-time ‘I’ formed body was now the letter ‘C’.

“Here you go!” She responded with a smile while trying vainly to lift her right arm to add to the ever encroaching  ‘C’ form of her body. But inside, she knew she was going to miss her coque: the man made back forming shell meant to straighten her back.

Maybe the next coque would be better, she thought.

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