Tami Beethoven

Yvette went to the kitchen and got a bottle out of the lower cabinet. It was some kind of sweet cordial. She drank a glass of it. Then she looked out the back door, out to the back lawn, the park area beyond, the long inviting stretch of virgin white snow, peaceful snow, quiet snow, eternal snow... She got into her boots and coat and, with unsteady hands, pried open the big glass doors and walked out. She felt tired and sleepy. Very, very sleepy. She had heard that falling asleep in the snow was the least painful way to go...

Part 63

She awoke with heavy lidded eyes and immediately squinted from the unbearably bright light all around her. So this was what Heaven was like. She thought of all she knew on Earth and was sad. She might be looking down on it but would still miss all those people very much.

Another few blinks and she smelled the disinfectant and heard the shuffling of clogs and knew she was in a hospital of some kind. And she felt relieved. She would have cried with thankfulness if she could.

She tried to get up and found herself being supported by an old nurse. "Steady, my dear," she said with grandmotherly assurance. "You'll be fine now, but go slow."

In another minute she had been sat up and was facing a tray of apple juice and cereal and a banana. This time it was another nurse, much younger, about her age. "Try to drink as much as you can." Yvette recognized the French Canadian accent, and read the name tag on the uniform: Jeanne.

She drank and ate and savored the tastes on her tongue. In heaven, she decided, one is a spirit and cannot enjoy the sensations of the flesh. Then she said, "I have a pounding headache."

Jeanne laughed. "Not surprising. Your alcohol level was almost fatal. You're taking vitamins and water now."

For the first time Yvette noticed the IV in her arm, going up to the bag on the stand. "Where am I?"

"The Chalfont Institute Emergency Room." She looked around. It was a very small emergency room, maybe three empty beds and then hers. And a passage into a hall of some kind.

She was not sure where this was. She had never heard of "Chalfont". But in a flash she remembered something. "Tami. Tami took me here."

Jeanne nodded. "Ms. Smithers dragged you in over her shoulder at three o'clock this morning, then collapsed." Jeanne pointed to the hall. "She's in intensive care."

"Alors!! Is she OK?"

"She's OK"

"Can I see her?"

"She's still sleeping."

"I still want to just see her. To make sure she's all right."

It was a struggle but Yvette got up, on unsteady stockinged feet. Then she realized she had on a hospital gown with an open back. She tried to close it behind her with one hand but then decided to give up the attempt. Having her backside showing was a trivial price to pay for being alive.

Jeanne steadied Yvette as they slowly walked into the hall. They turned into the second door on the left and Yvette gasped.

Tami was lying face up in a glass tank, at about the same height as if she were in a bed. The tank was about as high and wide and deep as a mattress. The water was bubbling gently and was warm, filling the room with a steamy vapor, like a sauna. The naked girl was sleeping, a tube in her nose, patches with wires going to each breast and to each thigh. And another wire going up in between her legs.

Her skin was bright pink, like a baby's.

Yvette was standing there open-mouthed so Jeanne gave the explanation she would have asked for. "Of course we already knew who she was. She was seriously hypothermic, and the prescribed treatment is warm towels. But because of her -- her disability, we could not do that. So Dr. Kantor was called and suggested the tank. It was used in the Institute for lab work. Her temperature came back to normal bit by bit."

"Oh God..." Yvette wept in misery. "Oh Lord... She'll be all right?"

"She's almost back to normal now." Jeanne looked up at various gauges. "She won't wake up for a while though."

And now someone she didn't want to see, Rod, walking in with a coffee in a styrofoam cup. It was clear he didn't particularly want to see her either. "Hello."

"... Hi."

"I hear you'll be all right."

"Yes."

Yvette, helped by Jeanne, made it back to her bed and sat up as Jeanne put blankets over her. She looked outside at the sun rising over the snowy scene, and thought of last night, and of Tami, and what almost happened. She watched the sun get higher in the sky. She sat and watched for a long time.

. . . .

Rod sipped the coffee, which was really terrible, and felt the pounding of his hangover. He looked at the strange pinkness of Tami's skin, from head to toe, interrupted only by the wedding ring tattoo around the third toe of her left foot. Called in the middle of the night by the E.R., he had stumbled out of bed. He had heard that Chalfont had an emergency room and medical clinic to serve the town. Someone had mentioned it that awful evening at the airport restaurant as Tami was sobbing through orgasm after orgasm delivered to her by that out-of-control tail dildo deep in her gut. But he had never been here.

Standing there with his coffee, he almost started to cry himself. What a lucky guy he was to have Tami Smithers, the prettiest, strongest, bravest girl in the world. And she loved him as much as he loved her. And he had almost lost her!

He looked at the peaceful face, above the warm bubbling medicated water. He glanced at her nipples, breaking the surface as she breathed. And thought of what had happened. Such a brave girl, going naked through the cold to save someone. Exposed to the elements... bravely doing her duty and marching on... while everyone else is all bundled up...

"Frigid Brigid."

The words came out of his mouth before he even thought of them. They hung in the air, incongruous in this setting.

Tami's eyes popped open. "What did you say?"

"Oh Babe! You surprised me. I didn't know you were awake!"

"I didn't know you were here!"

"How do you feel?"

Tami glanced down at her pink nakedness and took a deep breath. Her breasts rose up and emerged from the water to the extent of -- well, about as much as was covered by Brigid's circlets. From the dream where they were on the local TV show.

"I feel warm, thank goodness." She smacked her lips. "And thirsty."

"Here," he said, giving her a bottle of water from the tray. "They say you should drink as much as possible."

"I sure did that, last night," Tami said, holding her head.

Rod laughed. "Non-alcohol, that is."

Tami sat up in the tank and sipped. "Oooh," she said, shifting. "This wire is way up my butt." It was obviously a thermometer. They looked at a gauge that said 97 degrees.

"Looks like I'm back to normal," Tami observed.

"I thought it was a dream I was hearing," Rod said. "You beating up that guy and yelling at Yvette."

Tami shook her head slowly. "Good thing I woke up later when I did. I suddenly had the sense that something was wrong. My nips told me so."

"And then you saw the open back door and followed the prints of her boots in the snow."

"Yes."

"You carried her... it must be a mile to here. Why didn't you drive her?"

"I was too drunk to drive. Or maybe to think of that. We were all drunk."

Rod looked out to the hall that led to the emergency room. "Damn stupid girl."

Tami put the bottle back on the tray and lay down again, until the water was up to her chin. "It was my fault. I can't believe I yelled at her like that."

"Babe, don't be wack."

Tami's features darkened. "Knowing how... fragile that girl is mentally... I just shouldn't have." She looked up at him. "And look what almost happened. Oh Rod... I've never been so embarrassed in my life."

Rod looked down at the plum-colored pubic bush, exposed to the world's gaze for three and a half years, and thought of the mortified, scared naked child he had fallen in love with. Then up at the brooding face.

She brought her dripping hand up to hold his. "Rod, I love being in this warm water. I don't ever want to be cold again." She closed her eyes. "Going through that snow... I was so cold... so cold..."

Now she sat up again and cleared her throat. "I've got to wear clothes, and fast."

As if on cue, Dr. Kantor walked in and smiled. "Ms. Smithers, I'm glad you're O.K. Welcome to our clinic. I came over to be your attending physician. Let me express on behalf of all of us our appreciation. You saved that girl's life." He looked at his clipboard. "The average person would have died. You simply had hypothermia."

"You sound a bit cavalier about what she's been through," Rod observed.

"Sorry, but in fact she was not in any real danger. She was at eighty-eight degrees. We were more concerned about the girl. She was fully clothed but also badly poisoned by alcohol... How do you feel? How do your toes feel?"

Tami sat up, water dripping down her breasts. The old nurse walked in and now there were four people standing around the naked young woman in the warm water tank. They watched as she flexed her toes and wiggled them, causing little waves. "I'm fine. Doctor, I've got to get a job right after I graduate. I've got to wear clothes like the rest of you do. Can we... accelerate the desensitization sessions?"

Dr. Kantor clearly wasn't expecting to talk about this. He scratched his scrawny beard. "Accelerate?"

"After two years I can only wear that little C-string and those circlets. That's not fast enough. My family's in a fix. I've got to be fully employable in a month."

Part 64

They sat in the front row of the Little Theater: Barbara, Rosaria, Melissa, Spica, Jeane, Myra, Tami and the special guest, Ms. Jen McIntyre, studying the twenty-page stapled handouts. All stylishly clothed, in their own way, Barbara, the 30-year-old grad student, in her studied frumpiness, Rosaria, in her female jock attire, Jen in her Peter Pan hairdo and leotard and leg warmers. All stylishly clothed except of course for Tami, whose stark nakedness contrasted with their fashion sense. All had their legs crossed in the usual female fashion, one foot out front, forming a row of shoes sticking out toward the stage, interrupted by Tami's bare foot. A few rows back, Ms. Gretchen Spaulding, in a sweater and jeans, holding her coat in her lap, and Tami's husband, Mr. Rod Sykes, having just gotten back from work, in his engineer's suit and mud-stained project boots.

In front of the stage, Dr. Kantor, in his white lab coat and scrawny beard, and the rather shorter Dr. Abu Jamal, standing stiffly and formally in his three-piece suit. To their sides, on folding chairs, several Chalfont Institute interns, and a six members of the Chalfont faculty.

This was the 150-seat Little Theater of the Chalfont Institute. Not a place for plays, but for medical education films and guest lectures. There were no curtains, no catwalks, no colored lights. The lights were fluorescent and buzzed away quietly overhead as the TL's and Jen read.

"Let me begin," Dr. Kantor said. "You've been given a brief review of the literature which you can fully peruse later. Do not hesitate to e-mail me if you have any questions. Please use the campus intranet, of course. You can understand why this matter should be disclosed to others.

"Ms. Smithers -- I hope you don't mind if I call her Tami -- during her prolonged nudity, developed a contrapositive reaction toward clothes. Having experienced abundent orgasmic pleasure while naked, her body came to associate the wearing of clothes with pain. Thanks to the efforts of what we've been calling the desensitization team, the six of you, a small amount of progress has been made. Through timing the attachment of covering with the onset and duration of orgasm and its associated endorphins, Tami can now wear an amount of fabric totaling in the aggregate approximately ten square centimeters.

"However, this amounts to coverage of only one-fifth of one percent of Tami's body. Due to circumstances in her life, progress has to be accelerated. This presents a problem. Our current limited knowledge of how to stimulate the brain's pleasure centers is limited. Physical orgasm remains the most powerful known pleaurable stimulus, and the most powerful reinforcer of associated sensations. Tami's orgasms are unusually intense and long. How can we, shall we say, 'improve' on that?

"The answer lies in a qualitative leap to a type of response that has been reported in the literature, firstly by Masters and Johnson in 1966. This is the 'status orgasmus'. On page 3 of your handouts is the description and an electrocardiograph of one recorded instance, showing levels of stimulation of the vaginal opening, heart rate, and contractions of the uterus.

"As you can see, this status orgasmus lasted 25 contractions, extending over 45 seconds, which we can assume that is not the maximum possible. It was associated with hyperventilation and extreme tachycardia, up to 180 beats per minute or more. Only someone in superb physical condition can therefore achieve it for any length of time. Ms. Smithers certainly fits that category, given her rigorous exercise habits.

"Your task will be to induce status orgasmus in Tami. With an extended period of orgasm, we hope that a much greater amount of clothing can be placed on her, and there will be enough time before the end of the episode that her body will become used to the covering.

"I now will ask Tami to come up here on the table to illustrate what you should be looking for. Tami?"

The naked girl silently and solemnly climbed up on the table and lay down facing them. She extended her legs wide, wide, wider, until she could hold her bare feet with her hands. With her hands pulling, her legs were extended almost to a ballet dancer's split. The TL's got up and crowded around the table. They were joined by the interns and the faculty until every spot around the table was taken by the people standing around, peering intently at the spread naked girl. Rod and Gretchen stayed back in their seats.

Tami's stretch caused the familiar sight of her pussy lips opening. Pointing to them, Dr. Kantor said, "Status orgasmus begins with a sharp contraction lasting two to four seconds. Tami has practiced this and will now show us what it might look like. Tami?"

A violent closing and then opening of Tami's lower lips, which caused her whole body to shake and the table to wiggle. It so suprised the observers that they lurched backward.

"Let's try that again."

Another violent snapping of the pussy.

"Now, if you study the chart, you see that as status orgasmus progresses, the contractions are at first not as pronounced, the inter-contraction period being almost as myotonic as the contractions themselves, but after the first ten or so, it becomes a more all-and-nothing situation, meaning the spasms become more pronounced and more violent, there being a greater contrast with the inter-contractory period. Oone might guess that the subject would feel as if she were being jerked from one end of the universe to the other. We feel it is at that point that the clothing can be attached. Tami has also practiced what such contractions might look like. Tami?"

Tami grunted rhythmically, as the students and faculty were treated to the sight of her pussy lips opening and shutting like doors being flung open and slammed shut. For the TL's, it was a more violent motion than they had seen during the hundreds of times they had brought their naked Queen to orgasm. All the time, Tami's eyes were open, staring impassively at the ceiling.

"Similar contractions, as you might guess, would occur anally. Tami?"

Tami got up onto all fours and turned around. She put her face down to the table and spread her butt cheeks with her hands. She had long had the ability to make her anus gape. Now, her anal orifice opened to the amazing width of almost two inches. The buzzing overhead lights allowed everyone to see the dark, red recesses of her recently irrigated rectum. As heads craned in to look, they could even see the little "inner butthole" that led into her sigmoid colon. Now Tami shut herself closed, then opened again to two inches, then shut again. She grunted with each motion, as her butt bucked and the table shook. Her upturned toes wiggled and flexed wildly.

"Thank you, Tami. Now if you would..."

They looked up as Campbell-Frank's only naked student, as prearranged, stood up on the table, separated her legs, held up her arms, and stretched herself out into a big "X". Dr. Kantor pointed here and there. "Other physiological changes you should look out for are those typical of orgasm. Of course Tami's orgasmic response is well known to all of us and, indeed, all around campus. The flush over the breasts, the puckering of the nipples, the engorgement of the labia... note here, here and here... the flaring of the nostrils up there, the spreading of the toes down here."

Tami turned around so that her rear was facing them, still stretching to the ceiling in an "X", giving them a full view of her thin but strong arms, butt and legs.

"The clenching of the buttocks, the flush on the rear of the thighs and the upper back, and so on."

Tami hopped off the table, her bare feet slapping onto the tile floor. "You can sit now." Everyone did except Tami, who remained standing facing them.

Dr. Kantor, standing to the side, said, "You have all been assigned your stations on Tami's body. As you might guess, the violence of the motions in status orgasmus makes some type of fixation necessary. Fortunately, one of you, Spica, has alerted us to a device that has already been designed by one of the undergraduates majoring in sculputuring."

On cue, Sessu, the modest Japanese art major, appeared on the rear of the stage, pushing a large scaffold-looking thing on wheels. It was the device he had shown Tami a couple of months ago, his invention for placing Tami upright and having seats for each of the TL's around her. Sessu, who had wished he could be a TL but knew that as a male he would not be permitted, now felt relieved and maybe vindicated, though he wished it could have been in a happier setting. When he first showed this device to Tami, she had not yet been approached about having more than one TL lick her at a time. And she had shown a wordless but obvious dislike for the device, for reasons she did not give.

The scaffold was wheeled up to the lip of the stage, right up behind Tami. She glanced back at it briefly, with no expression.

"Each of you has your own station, as I said." Dr. Kantor pointed up to the seven color coded seats in front, up to the sides, in the rear, and at the bottom. He looked down at his clipboard. "Ms. McIntyre at Tami's vagina and clitoris, Ms. Villareal and Ms. Thomas at Tami's nipples, Ms. Simpson at Tami's face and scalp, Ms. Jones and Ms. Schreiber at Tami's toes, and Ms. Firenza at Tami's anus.

"Note also the cuffs for Tami's wrists and ankles," Dr Kantor went on. "Again, the necessity of fixation. This has to be carefully coordinated and controlled. As I'm sure you know and as I understand you have much experience in that. In particular, as the final session begins you must resist the urge to bring Tami to a quick orgasm. She may beg, she may plead, but you must hold back, and build up and build up."

He stood behind Tami as she continued to face the audience impassively. "Our plan is for there to be a 'test run' of this fixation device early next week. Then at a designated point we will begin Tami's preparation for the actual immersion into clothes. As part of this preparation it is important that Tami not have an orgasm for two weeks." The sense of loss among the TL's was palpable but, knowing what was at stake for their Queen, they suppressed any pouts. "Also, Ms. Smithers, if you would refrain from wearing any of your bits of clothing during that time. You must stay absolutely naked.