(originally posted to EyeScene 28th June 2001 - last part posted 02 July 2001)
She entered the nightclub, narrowing her eyes against the smoke. She immediately spotted a good-looking man standing next to the bar, swigging from a pint of lager. He immediately spotted her to and, picking up his pint, he made a beeline for her...
After that, her memories were vague. She remembered talking to him, going to the bathroom to freshen up, coming back to find that he'd bought her a drink . . . Then nothing. Except a strange sort of pain in her eyes. As if someone was operating on them...
She made a left off the main street and into a little side street. All the shops in it had closed down long ago, driven out by the large supermarket which had been built right on the edge of the village. Only one shop still remained, a tiny little shop which permanently had the blind lowered on the window, the tiny sign above the door proclaiming simply "Optician".
Allison stopped outside it, wondering how that word aroused such fear in her. Probably because the last thing in the world she wanted was glasses, but she knew it was inevitable.
It wouldn't be her first pair anyway. Back in her last year of high school, she'd complained to her mum of headaches when reading (at the time, it had really just been an excuse to get away with studying). Her mum had insisted on making her an optician's appointment at the opticians in the large town nearest to them, and this had resulted in her being prescribed with glasses for hyperopia, +0.5 in her left eye and +1.0 in her right. Of course, she'd certainly never worn them in school; she could by without them with relative ease. However, she had used them at home on the rare occasions that she studied, or when she was reading a book. She never felt like she really NEEDED them though.
That had been four years ago and now she was in trouble. Her job involved a lot of close and computer work and it was becoming harder for her to focus on words. She'd reluctantly begun to wear her glasses at work but now these weren't helping any longer. It was a certainty that she needed stronger correction and that terrified her.
She'd taken the morning off work to visit the only optician in the village. No one she knew had ever been there before, preferring to choose a larger store in one of the larger surrounding towns. But Allison had thought she may as well come here - it saved her a longer journey.
She pushed open the door and entered a tiny little foyer, with nothing but a desk in one corner. A bell had tinkled when she opened the door. "Just a minute!" a voice called. She waited nervously, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt.
Seconds later, a tall extraordinarily handsome man appeared through a door from the back, smiling reassuringly at her.
"You must be Allison," he said warmly. "How are you?"
He looked familiar (in fact, he gave her an extremely strong sense of deja vu), but she couldn't place him.
"Nervous," she replied honestly, in answer to his question. She explained her problem and he nodded.
"Have you brought your glasses with you?" he asked.
She reached into her bag and handed him her spectacle case. He took the gold-rimmed glasses from it and placed them on her face.
"Okay." He held a card in front of her with various sizes of print on it and asked her to read one of the smaller lines. She couldn't.
"Well, you definitely need stronger glasses," he said soberly. "Come on through into the back."
"Where are all the glasses though?" she asked him first, looking around the empty room again.
"They're in another room in the back," he told her, leading her into a tiny room with a large chair and an eyechart.
"Sit down." He indicated the chair. Obediently, she sat. He leaned over her, fiddling with the arms of her chair and as she pulled back she suddenly realized her hands were tied to the chair. She pulled frantically, but nothing happened.
"What are you doing?" she gasped in a panic.
"Restraining you," he said in a calm conversational tone, binding her legs before she had a chance to struggle. "It's amazing how many people try to escape during the test." He moved across the room to turn the lights off.
"Let me go," she protested, struggling frantically against her restraints. She was quickly beginning to realize her first impressions of this guy had been wrong.
"No." He turned, and she noticed he was now wearing a pair of strong plus glasses, which distorted his eyes so much she wondered how he'd possibly been able to see her before. These glasses added to her sudden terror, especially as his magnified eyes held nothing but manic glee, although the rest of him remained cool and composed.
"Like I said," he lifted her glasses from her face and placed them back in their case reverentially, "You'll try to run away if I don't keep you here by force." He picked up the trial frame and fitted it on her. "Now let's get testing."
Allison had no choice but to comply, she didn't want this ordeal to go on any longer than it had to. He made her read the eyechart, and she quickly began to realize that this was no ordinary eye test (well, that had already become apparent to her, but even the actual testing of the eyes seemed strange). Her distance vision had always been relatively good without glasses, but although she most of the chart with relative ease, he was placing lenses over her eyes which were strong enough to cause a blur. When he held the piece of card up to her eyes again, she could read even the smallest print easily now, but far away she could barely see a thing.
"We're trying to correct your hyperopia here," he said when she complained. "Your eyes will adjust to the distance in time."
"I suppose that won't matter," she sighed, "Since I'll only be wearing them for close work anyway."
He straightened up and looked at her sternly. "No," he said ominously. "You'll be wearing them all the time."
"But..." A cold hand of horror squeezed at Allison's heart.
"No arguments. All the time. Apart from sleeping of course, and showering. And," he added chattily, "I have little doubt you'll need a stronger prescription within the next month or so."
How could this be happening? She wondered bleakly. He placed an even stronger lens in front of her weaker eye, and her distance vision blurred further.
"Perfect," he announced. "+6 in both eyes."
"WHAT? But there's no way I could have functioned until now if my eyesight was that bad." Allison shook her head wearily.
"Exactly." There was such a mocking look in his magnified gaze that she knew he had deliberately overprescribed her. Why though, she had no idea. Once she got the glasses, she simply wouldn't wear them - she would go to the opticians in the next town and find a sane optician who would give her a real prescription.
"Now, " he rubbed his hands together, "We need to choose you some glasses."
He disappeared before she could reply and she could hear him rummaging around in the next room. She nervously waited for his return. When he returned, he held several pairs of glasses.
"I've taken the liberty of selecting some frames you might be interested in." He held out a selection of large plastic frames in brown, gray and a strange yellow color.
"I don't like any of them," she said stubbornly. "Show me some more."
He suddenly looked a little embarrassed.
"This is all I have," he replied. Then his face changed back to calm and vaguely menacing.
"Well, if you won't choose." He chose the brown pair for her and tried them on her.
"Lovely," he said calmly. "These will be fine. I'll make them up for you right now."
"But isn't it supposed to take a couple of days?" she asked.
"Not in this opticians it doesn't," he replied with a wicked smile. "This place is special."
"I'm beginning to see that," she sighed. "So can I come back in a couple of hours?" She already knew he would refuse before he shook his head.
"No. You'll stay here." He replaced the trial frame on her face, still with the lenses in it. "This will help you get used to your prescription. And two final precautions." He tied her scarf around her mouth to gag her, and used two pieces of duct tape to secure the frames on her face. "We don't want you to feel the need to scream for help," he said calmly. "Or for your glasses to fall off." And he left her alone in the room.
She sat there, unable to move, unable to see the eyechart directly in front of her clearly due to the overprescribed lenses. Turning her head slightly, she could see the boxes of lenses on the table right beside her, but she couldn't read the sign on the back of the door, although it was obviously in huge letters. Turning her head in the other direction, to the wall right beside her on the left, she found herself looking in a mirror. As it was so close, she could see her reflection quite clearly. It was a strange sight that greeted her, the scarf wrapped around her head, preventing her speech, the round thick black frames on her face, holding lenses that made her eyes seem nearly as big as the mad optician's were.
She couldn't help herself, she started to cry. All that she had wanted was to get a pair of slightly stronger glasses - she hadn't wanted to end up in hell. But that was indeed where she seemed to be.
She sat there for over an hour, wishing desperately that she was somewhere else. She stared straight ahead into the blur and slipped into a daydream where she was on a beach in the Caribbean, dressed in a skimpy bikini and slathered in Ambre Solaire. And when she came out of the daydream it took her a moment to realize that the blur was gone. She could see perfectly through the lenses.
"All ready!" the madman sang as he practically danced into the room. He pushed his own glasses up, but they were already as high up as they could go. He sat down in a chair at the other end of the room.
"How's the vision now?" he asked. "Oh, sorry." He ventured back over and removed the gag before returning to his chair.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Four," she muttered in a monotone.
"Fabulous. You appear to be used to the prescription now."
"Yippee," she murmured sarcastically.
He removed the trial frame again and, without it, everything (near and far away) was blurred. "How's your eyesight now?" he asked smugly.
"Not too hot."
"Well, don't worry. I'm here to make things all better for you." He lifted up the ugly brown plastic glasses and placed them on her nose. Suddenly everything was unbelievably clear and sharp.
"Is that better?"
"Yes," she muttered unwillingly.
"Good." He loosened the restraints. "You can go now."
No longer scared now she was untied, she walked towards the foyer. He followed her, and bent behind his desk for her file. "Now, I think you should come back next month, get your eyes tested again. How about the 20th, at 10am?"
"That's fine," she said mechanically. What was the point in trying to fight it? She wasn't altogether sure what was going on but she knew now that her mistake (that of coming to this particular opticians) had unleashed an irreversible chain reaction of events. In a space of a couple of hours she'd went from being mildly longsighted to completely reliant on glasses and now she just felt totally resigned.
He wrote down the appointment on a card for her and as he passed it back to her she noticed that he was no longer wearing his strong plus glasses. And he was functioning perfectly normally. Confused, she said goodbye, tried to pay (he refused to accept her money), and left the opticians.
Outside, a girl of about her own age was standing looking apprehensively at the sign on the door. She was a very pretty girl and she recoiled slightly when she saw how strong Allison's glasses were. "Are you his next appointment?" Allison asked.
The girl nodded. "Yeah. I'm a bit nervous," she said shakily. "I think I need glasses for reading."
Allison smiled. "Well, you'll get them. And a whole lot more."
Walking into work, Allison suddenly decided she didn't want everyone to see her wearing these horrible glasses. She would take them off, she decided; wait until she had sat down at her computer before she put them on. Then less people would see them.
As she got into the lift, she reached up to remove her glasses. But she couldn't. They seemed to be stuck to her face, not with glue, but as if by some sort of magnetic force. There was no time to wonder why this was happening. As the lift doors opened into the open plan office, she covered her face with her hair and hurried, head lowered, to her desk.
Hardly anyone noticed her arrival, but as she sat down at her computer and switched it on, one person was watching her. His name was Pete, and he was a good-looking guy who had started at the company the same day as Allison. Allison had given him the come-on a couple of times, but he'd thought she was vain and shallow, so had given her a wide berth. But he couldn't help but gasp in wonder as he saw Allison in those glasses.
Pete had perfect vision, but he'd always been more interested in bespectacled girls than those with normal vision. He had also always longed for bad vision for himself and, in the privacy of his own flat, he would often wear -4 glasses, which were the strongest his perfect vision could deal with. He had even on occasion worn glasses over contacts in order to be able to wear the strong glasses he craved, and he went outside with the strong glasses on, but only in places where he didn't know anyone. His fetish remained a secret.
Allison appeared to be wearing lenses of around plus five or six. Pete wondered what it would be like to need plus glasses. He'd never really thought about it before, being too obsessed with minus lenses, but faced with Allison he wondered what things would look like, how he would feel if it was him who was wearing them.
Allison was self-consciously inputting data into her computer when Pete sat down beside her.
"Hey Allison," he said, smiling at her. "New glasses?"
"Yeah." Her hand flew up to them self-consciously, ready to take them off. Just in time, she remembered that she couldn't. Pete might have found it a bit unusual if he had been struggling to pull her glasses off her face.
"You want to go out tonight?" he asked her, much to her amazement. She nodded mutely.
Maybe these glasses weren't such a bad thing.
Pete took her straight out after work and they went for a meal and then to the cinema. Afterwards, they were walking down the street when they ran into the Optician.
"How are those glasses treating you?" he asked her, stopping in front of her. "I take it you're seeing well."
"Yeah," Allison nodded, resentful that he'd turned up.
"And you've wore them all the time?" he added.
"She hasn't took them off," Pete assured him. "Come on Ally, let's go." He glanced back at the optician. "Nice to meet you," he added politely.
As they walked off, the Optician smiled. He could recognize someone with a spec fetish from miles off. This Pete was definitely one of them. His smile grew wilder as he walked away, cheerfully whistling "I can see clearly now". It was only a matter of time, he thought contentedly. Only a matter of time . . .
Pete gave her brief goodbye kiss at the door to her house and then she walked inside alone.
Allison still lived at home. She didn't feel embarrassed about this - she was only twenty-one after all, that wasn't too old to still live with your parents, and her wage bracket wasn't high enough for her to be able to afford a place of her own. Anyway, she liked it fine living here.
The problem was, this morning she had left the house bare-eyed, and now she was returning wearing extremely strong glasses. She was even more embarrassed about her family seeing her in glasses than she had been about her workmates seeing her.
"Allison, is that you?" Her mum appeared at the living room door. Her mouth dropped open when she spotted her daughter's new glasses. "Where did they come from?" she asked in surprise.
"I went to the opticians this morning," Allison replied.
"Can you see through them?" The disbelief was evident in her mother's voice.
"Yeah." She decided to confide in her mum. "This is going to sound strange though, but I'm convinced the optician gave me a stronger prescription than I actually needed. It felt like . . ."
"Oh, this is so like you Allison," her mum snapped suddenly. "You were always irresponsible, but to risk you eyesight for vanity . . . you must have been having serious trouble seeing for ages if you have a prescription this strong. How like you not to do anything about it sooner!"
So much for treating her mother like a confidante, she thought wryly, walking upstairs as her mother steamrolled on about how irresponsible she was.
She sat on her bed and watched TV for a while, before deciding to do some reading. She started to read an erotic novel and started to feel aroused by it, so she locked the door, dimmed the lights, undressed and slid naked under the covers. Suddenly, she was enjoying the feeling of the heavy glasses weighing down on her nose. She tried to push them higher on her nose, so that they were pressed against her face, but they couldn't get any closer. With cool hands, she began to explore her own body, growing more and more aroused by the minute, trying to picture her own erotic situation.
Funnily enough though, it wasn't Pete running through her mind. It was the mad Optician, wearing his strong plus glasses, advancing towards her. She tied up in the chair, wearing those ridiculous trial frames. Him removing them and replacing them with her brown glasses, only this time they were even stronger. And then, only then . . . him leaning forward and kissing her, teasing her lips with his tongue, their glasses making clashing noises. . .
That was all it took.
Satisfied, she flopped back against her pillows. And, drifting off to sleep, still bespectacled (by choice - she found that she could remove them now but for some strange reason she didn't want to), the last thing she thought about was the Optician.
The following morning, when she woke up, she examined her reflection for the first time since the trial frame had been replaced with glasses. At first, she felt slightly sick - the large brown frames were even uglier than she remembered and the lenses were so strong that her eyes were the only thing that was noticeable in her face. Then she shrugged philosophically and decided to have her usual shower.
This was the first time she had removed her glasses and she felt utterly disoriented as she stood in the shower. She had to hold onto the wall to prevent herself from toppling over. It was a terrifying experience and when she stepped out onto the bathroom carpet the first thing she reached for was not a towel, but her glasses. Immediately she could see clearly again, and no longer had that sick dizzy feeling.
She tried to put on some make-up, but she had to take her glasses off again to do so and her refletion became so blurred that it proved impossible. It was lucky she had good skin and long thick eyelashes and could get away with little more than a slash of neutral colour on her full pouting lips.
She bypassed breakfast, unwilling to show her glasses again, but when she headed out the door she ran straight into her neighbour. Mrs Adams was thoroughly taken aback. "What happened to you, girl?" she asked in horror. "Have you gone blind?"
"I got new glasses, that's all." Of course, that was the main problem, Allison reflected as she walked down the street. Most of the people who knew her hadn't even known that she wore glasses at all. And now she was showing up in the strongest glasses some of them had ever seen.
Well, they would have to get used to the new her. She was being forced to get used to it herself. The least everyone else could do was not treat her like some alien life form.
Allison and Pete became an official couple and Allison struggled to get used to the idea of wearing thick glasses for the rest of her life. She tried to tell herself that there were a lot of people a lot worse than her, people who could barely function even with the help of glasses. Yet, with a reasonable streak of selfishness, she couldn't help but feel sorry for herself.
Pete made her feel better about the glasses though. Every time she felt down about it he constantly reassured her, telling her she looked sexy, that her big green eyes were even more beautiful through the magnifying lenses, that she was still the loveliest girl in the world with the specs on. And, on top of that, he loved her to wear her glasses in bed. In fact, after their first time together, when he'd noticed how little she could see, he'd FORBIDDEN her to take off the glasses. She'd actually been pretty happy to oblige. They had a good time together, but her mind constantly drifted back to her experience in the Optican's chair. At the time, she'd been completely terrified but, looking back, she realized it was one of the most erotic, arousing experiences she'd ever had. Tied up, helpless, humiliated, too-strong lenses taped to her face until she'd been forced to submit to their power . . . She often thought about it while in bed with Pete (she knew it was disloyal but she couldn't help it) and it made her even more turned on.
But what had happened that day continued to puzzle her. She knew that although she'd needed new glasses that day, there was no way her prescription could have increased to +6. She also knew that, even had she needed lenses that strong, there was no way she could have become used to them within the space of an hour. A friend of hers back in high school had been fitted with +4 glasses and it had taken her a couple of days before her distance vision cleared. There had to be something special in the lenses, she decided, but what?
Then there was the Optician himself. How had he managed to function either with or without those thick glasses? They had to be at least +9 in strength, maybe even more. If he had normal eyesight, there was no way he could have kept them on for so long. But if his eyesight was that bad, there was no way he could have functioned so ably without them. And why had he taken so much pleasure in treating her the way he had anyway?
She had a strong feeling that, although she probably would not need more powerful lenses when she returned to the optician (by this time, the appointment was only two days away), she was going to be given them, purely because the man had decided she was going to have them. And, while this thought terrified her, at the same time she had never felt more turned on.
The following night she decided to pop in on Pete at his flat, so she knocked at his door, bearing a plastic bag full of chinese takeaway and an off-licence bag containing a bottle of white wine. There was no reply. Her forehead creased in a puzzled frown and she tried again. Still no answer.
On a hunch, she tried the door and it opened. He must be asleep, she guessed. She could hear the television in the living room, so she went in there to find Pete sprawled on the couch fast asleep. That didn't shock her.
What DID shock her was that he was wearing glasses.
"Pete." She shook him gently, and he woke up. His eyes widened in horror as he reached up to feel the frames on his face.
"What are you wearing those glasses for?" Realization dawned as she saw the guilty look on his face. "You don't really need them, do you?"
He shook his head and explained everything to her, about how he had always wanted to wear glasses but was "cursed" with perfect eyesight. He explained that he wore these -4 glasses around the house most of the time, but that he also had -10 glasses that he wore with plus contacts.
"Will you put them on now then?" she asked softly when he had finished.
"Really?" he asked in disbelief. He had expected her to yell at him and storm out. But she was still here, and she seemed genuinely interested. She nodded in response to his question. He disappeared into the bathroom.
When he returned, she gasped. The minus four glasses had been rimless and barely made an impression on his face. But these . . . the thick lenses had a distinctly minimising effect on his dark blue eyes, and the heavy black frames turned him from hunk into geeky hunk.
"What do you think?" he asked, almost shyly.
She smiled. "I think you look pretty darned gorgeous," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around him, her large eyes gazing into his smaller ones. "And I also think we should go to bed. Right now."
Pete was great, she thought, waking up the next day in his bed, both of them still wearing their glasses. But, as he took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and complained that his contacts had dried up, she remembered that he didn't need the glasses that had turned her on so much. And that, in fact, she was getting a little bored with him. But she liked the way that he clearly loved her in her glasses, and so she figured it wouldn't hurt for them to stay together for a while longer. Maybe she would find out something that would make her interested in him again.
Anyway, she thought, whistling as she got dressed in yesterday's clothes. It was time to go home and choose something to wear. The Big Day had arrived...
As she walked along the main street in the direction of the opticians, she reflected how different this journey felt from the last time. Now she wasn't terrified, she was excited beyond belief.
"Allison, is that you?"
Allison whirled around to see one of her old school friends, Lisa, staring at her in disbelief. "God Allison," she exclaimed. "What happened to your eyes?"
"I needed stronger glasses," Allison explained.
Lisa had always known that Allison had glasses, so it wasn't quite as much of a shock to her as it had been to most people. Still, she looked pretty amazed. Well, Lisa had been out of the country and they hadn't seen each other for six months. At that point, Allison had been wearing her glasses reluctantly only when she had no other choice. Now she was wearing much stronger glasses full-time. She supposed it was a lot for Lisa to get used to.
Funnily enough, hardly anyone had commented on her glasses. She'd noticed people from work and people she usually passed on the street looking at her strangely, but it had only been a day or two before everyone was used to the bespectacled Allison. Even her. When she looked at her reflection in the mirror now, all she felt was relief that she could see.
But there was something else. Before that last optician visit glasses had always felt like foreign, hated objects on her face. Now they felt incredible - she never forgot she had them on, she could always feel the heaviness of them on her face, but that was what she loved. The only time she took them off now was in the shower. Even when she was in her own bed, she would keep them on, loving the way they felt on her face. And then . . . the feeling when she woke up the next morning . . . at first, her blurry eyes would have to adjust to the thick lenses, almost as if they had corrected themselves while she slept. But after a few minutes, her vision would be clear again. She guessed the pleasure that the blurriness to sharp clarity feeling brought her came from her memories of sitting in the Optician's chair, wearing glasses that were far too strong for her and unable to take them off.
"Your vision must have gotten much worse," Lisa said bluntly. "Right?"
"Yeah," Allison nodded. "I'm +6 now!"
"That's strange," Lisa commented. "People don't usually make that big a jump, do they?"
"Apparently not," Allison shrugged. She smiled. "Guess I'm special."
Lisa gave her a funny look. "Aren't you worried your vision is going to deteriorate further?"
"If it happens, it happens," Allison was trying to sound nonchalant, although she was secretly looking forward to the inevitable "deterioration". "I'll cope somehow."
She glanced at her watch. "Listen Lisa, I'm running late. I'll phone you later, okay? We can catch up then."
She headed down the sidestreet and entered the opticians.
He was pacing up and down in the small foyer and Allison's heart skipped a beat when she saw him standing there. He looked so handsome, she thought, examining his chiselled cheekbones, thick dark hair and chocolate brown eyes (he was bare-eyed once more).
"There you are!" he exclaimed, smiling and revealing a dimple in one of his cheeks. "I thought you'd stood me up for a minute there."
"Nah, I wouldn't do that," Allison smiled nervously. "Just talking to one of those people who don't understand."
"Ah. I see." He stood back and indicated for her to go through the back in front of him. "Come into my parlor, as the spider said to the fly." He smiled teasingly and she couldn't help but return the smile. The irony of his words was not lost on either of them.
She let him restrain her without argument this time, but as he turned to the table full of lenses, she briefly worried that she was getting in too deep. Okay, so he hadn't harmed her last time (well, apart from the ruination of her eyesight), but who was to say the same would be true of this occasion? He'd already pulled her restraints much tighter than he had the last time.
He picked up his glasses from the table and slid them slowly onto his nose, as if relishing the change. Suddenly, those magnified eyes were on her again and she felt herself wriggling slightly in her chair. He noticed and smiled knowingly, and tried to push his glasses nearer to his face. The way he had on that first occasion, the way she felt herself doing all the time, as if trying to make her glasses truly a part of her.
"Let's see how much worse your eyesight has become," he said, pointing to the eyechart.
He was assuming her eyesight had got worse, saying not "if" but "when". She read the necessary letters perfectly.
"Now let's look at your near vision," he sing-songed, holding the piece of card in front of her. Was it her imagination, or had the words got even smaller since the last time.
"Read that line," he said, pointing to the smallest print, a line she was positive had not been there on the last occasion.
There was no way she could read it.
"Oh dear, it looks like you definitely need stronger lenses. Oh dear," he repeated, a sadistic note in his voice.
He removed her glasses and then on went the trial frame again. Slowly, methodically, almost calculatedly, he tried out even more powerful lenses in front of her eyes, until she finally could see that minute print. Once more, the new strength had turned everything in the distance into a blur.
"Well, we know what happens now," he said, smiling at her. "I sort out your new prescription while you get used to it. Don't worry, I'm sure it will be a much quicker process this time around."
"What is my prescription?" she managed to ask before he gagged her once again.
"It's gone up to +9," he said with a great amount of pleasure, pulling the scarf tight at the back of her head. "You'll be used to it in no time," he added, ensuring the lenses were directly in front of her eyes, the frame as close to her face as possible. He pressed the ducttape down firmly right in front of her ears and this time placed a small bit over the nosepiece too. "By the time I come back, you'll be ready for your new glasses." And he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Leaving Allison in much the same position she had been in before, only tied more tightly to the chair, and with the trial frames that contained her new, blinding prescription jammed painfully against her face. But this time, she didn't cry. Instead, she stared ferociously into the blur in front of her, focusing on the hazy eyechart, counting the minutes aloud as a clear, perfectly visible chart emerged from the blur.
It took only fifteen minutes.
And, as she waited for the Optician to return with her new prescription, she decided that she was going to get him to tell her the truth. How could he wear glasses so strong one minute and be without them the next? Why had he decided to ruin her eyesight? And, most importantly, how had he managed to do it?
Whatever happened, she vowed, she wasn't leaving this place until she got some answers.
Although she had grown accustomed to the strength of the lenses in an extremely short amount of time, the Optician did not return for a while. So she continued to sit there in silence, the pain of the glasses ramming into her face growing more and more pleasurable by the minute, adrenalin coursing through her body as she realized how bad her peripheral vision was due to the shape and thickness of the lenses. She had to turn her head completely to look at something, no more sidelong glances. It felt as if she was in some sort of prison, especially with the added issue of being tied up. The thought of being trapped in a permanent prison like these thick glasses, or even this chair, had never thrilled her more. Although she knew one thing that could increase the thrill . . .
And here he was. He made his re-entry into the room, and she wondered if she was seeing things. Was he wearing even stronger lenses than he had been before? It seemed he was, his eyes appeared to be even bigger and even more distorted.
And, disturbingly, even sexier.
He chuckled. "I took the liberty of increasing my own prescription," he said huskily. "That's the best thing about being an optician." He moved over to her and loosened the gag, then he walked over to his chair without removing the pieces of duct tape.
"Go on," he said, pointing to the chart beside him. "Read the first couple of lines out to me."
Dutifully, she recited them. Still wondering how this could be happening. It had to defy all the conventional laws of science.
"Perfect." Still sitting in his chair, he held up a spectacle case. "You left your old glasses here the last time you came. So that day I made them up with your new lenses. I thought you'd appreciate a prettier frame."
"Hold on!" Allison exclaimed. "You made them up after my last appointment? So I really didn't need these new lenses. You just pretended I did because you'd already decided how bad YOU were going to make my eyesight." She shook her head. "I suspected that, but I didn't expect you to admit it so readily."
He smiled. "You want an explanation, huh?" he asked. "For everything?" he added.
She nodded. He stood up, turned his chair around so it faced backwards and straddled it so that he was leaning on the back of the chair, and peering at her through his massive eyes. Allison briefly wondered how she could find his strong lenses so sexy, but it wasn't a thought she chose to dwell on. Well, perhaps she would once he finished his explanation.
"Are you quite comfortable there?" he asked her.
She shook her head, unable to hide a tiny smirk. He caught the curve of her lips and smiled back.
"Good. You're loving that feeling now, aren't you? That bound up confined feeling. And you're especially loving the way those glasses are pressing against you, aren't you?" Hi smile turned knowing again. "Who wouldn't?" As if to demonstrate the point, he shoved his own glasses up against his face again. "You can never get them close enough, can you?" he tutted in apparent disappointment. He shrugged.
"Okay, my story. Well, if you're sitting uncomfortably," One magnified eye dropped in an exaggerated wink, "then I'll begin..."
He told her about how he'd always been obsessed with glasses. In fact, some of what he said was very similar to what Pete had said when she'd found out about his fetish. With one crucial difference.
"I always wanted to be a hyperope," he said dreamily. "My parents both were and so was my sister, but no matter how hard I tried to ruin my eyes, I couldn't. I used to put on my sister's spare glasses, which were +5, but I couldn't see anything through them. I was so jealous."
"But why did you even want to wear glasses?" Allison asked. "That's what I really don't understand."
"I really couldn't tell you," he shrugged. "I liked the feel of them on my face, I loved the strong lenses, I wanted to be FORCED to wear glasses because I couldn't function without them." He smiled wistfully. "And I would LOVE it when girls I knew got glasses to correct hyperopia. I'd read up on it, knew all about it, I'd see them with their thin lenses and hope that they would need stronger lenses before long. If they turned up wearing glasses for the first time and their lenses were already strong, I would be even more excited because there was an even bigger chance that they would be wearing even stronger ones before long. Occasionally," He looked shamefaced at this. "Occasionally I would even steal their glasses if they left them lying about for a moment. I still have a collection of glasses that I stole. Not very many though." He made a face. "That was the problem. Most of the people I knew were short-sighted not long-sighted. I was always wishing that there was something I could do about that." He fell into a brief, contemplative silence.
"Then you became an optician," Allison prompted, eager to hear more.
"Yeah, it seemed like the ideal occupation for me, didn't it?" He rolled his huge eyes. "And yet, sometimes it just made me miserable. Whenever a hyperope came in, I would get a massive dose of rx envy. But, at the same time, especially if the particular hyperope was female, I would wish I could increase their prescription strength. Their hyperopia was nearly always so MILD. But what could I do about it?"
"So what did you do?"
"Well, I didn't do anything. I mean, what COULD I do? It all began one day when I had a strange encounter with a fellow optician. We went to a pub together, and when I was drunk I started blurting out how much I wished I could wear strong plus glasses. I had eventually become hyperopic, by the way, during the time I was at university, but I only needed +0.5 glasses. I was wearing them all the time, hoping I would need a stronger prescription. It never happened, and I felt like I was wearing plano lenses. What was the point? My obsession lay in the strength of the lenses and my glasses were the weakest possible. I got no pleasure from wearing them and could see just as well without them."
"And how did the other optician react?"
"He understood. He wore plus glasses himself. They were +6 or 7, and I had been really surprised when I saw him wearing them because six months before, he'd apparently had perfect vision. We talked about it a while longer and I went further in my revelations, telling him how I wished I could increase people's hyperopia. That's when he started to act secretive. Whispering as if worried that someone might hear, he told me to follow him. He took me back to his optical business."
There, the optician friend had reverentially opened a drawer and pulled out an array of lenses and glasses with strong powerful plus lenses. "The glass used in these lenses are special, like no other," he had explained. "If a person puts them on, they will find their vision blurry at first, but if they keep them on for an hour or two, their vision will suddenly clear."
"And what happens after they take them back off?" the Optician had asked him. "Does their eyesight eventually go back to normal?"
His friend had smiled gleefully. "That's the best part," he said. "Once their vision has cleared up with the lenses in front of their eyes, they are permanently hyperopic. If they take their glasses off for a while, their eyes may become marginally better, but they will be in such a blur and having such bad headaches that they'll be forced to put them back on."
Allison suddenly understood why she experienced that blur every morning when she opened her eyes. As she slept, her eyes closed and ignorant of the lenses in front of them, her eyes must become slightly stronger, so when she opened her eyes she had to adjust all over again.
"The thing is, they don't want to take them off though," the friend had continued. "They THINK they do, but deep down inside they love the strong lenses, their clarity of vision. It's a turn on for them."
"For everyone?" the Optician had asked.
"Yeah. I think that too must have something to do with the glass," his friend had said thoughtfully.
"And have you used these lenses on a lot of people?" the Optician had asked him.
His friend had laughed loudly. "Well, it would be a complete waste if I didn't, wouldn't I? It's great. Someone walks in, I decided what strength lenses I want to give them before I've tested them, and then I just rearrange the test to suit my own purposes. I've given some beautiful girls up to +15 and 16 glasses in the past, and they walk about with their eyes proudly magnified. There are a couple of drawbacks though."
"What are they?" the Optician queried.
"Well, this technique works on people who are already hyperopic, and it also works on people with perfect vision," his friend explained. "Unfortunately, it does not work on people who are already myopic. The other problem is that most people being tested suspect that something is going on when they are being tested with lenses that are far too strong for them. You have to keep them there somehow, so they can't escape."
"And how do you do this?"
There were two options - tying them up, or giving them a drink before the test, which contained a special drug. This drug caused conscious paralysis for a few hours. If you used this method, an eye test wasn't even necessary. All you needed to do was choose a prescription for the person, the stronger the better, make up a pair of glasses with those lenses, place them on the person and then wait. The person would have their eyes open throughout the paralysis meaning that by the time they could move again, their eyes would have adjusted to the prescription. Their memories of what had happened would be a blur. Although, the friend had said gleefully, when you first put the glasses in front of their eyes, their eyes would widen in terror before narrowing and struggling to focus. The best part, the friend said, was watching their eyes at the exact moment their vision cleared. The eyes would widen in horror before growing resigned.
"I'm single-handedly raising the proportion of hyperopes in Britain," the friend had said proudly. "And I'm having a fantastic time doing it."
"Where did you get the lenses from?" the Optician had asked, excited beyond belief.
"I can't tell you that." The friend shook his head. "But I can supply you with all the lenses you need. Would you like me to do that?"
"How could I say no?" the Optician said now, staring at Allison pleadingly.. "I couldn't think of anything more fantastic than being able to control hyperopia. It was honestly like my dream come true. There was only one more thing I needed to know."
"If your friend's sudden need for strong glasses was due to these lenses?" Allison asked astutely.
They were. "When I asked him, he told me how he'd started off with these +6 lenses he was wearing now. Then he told me it was time for me to see an active demonstration of how the lenses worked. He held up a thicker pair of glasses and told me he was going to increase his prescription to +10 and that I was welcome to watch. He slipped off the weaker glasses, sat down and put on the stronger glasses, blinking furiously at their strength. He continued to talk as he tried to adjust to the lenses. I watched in fascination.”
"I asked him if he thought I should use these lenses to make myself hyperopic, but he looked a little dubious. He told me I would have to think about what I was letting myself in for. Then he made an alternative suggestion, one that I found quite appealing. These same lenses, when grinded in a slightly different way, had another purpose. A person with relatively good eyesight could put on a strong pair of glasses and instantly see well through them as if they really needed them - their eyes would instantly adjust to the strength and they would feel as if they genuinely needed them but once they took them off their vision would return to normal. Or in my case +0.5. Look." And at this point he removed the thick glasses, focusing instantly on her without them. "You see?" He pushed them back up on his nose. "I've been wearing them on and off for two years now, since I first found out how much in control I could be. I wear them at home all the time because I love the feeling of them. You know the feeling I mean, don't you? The way they push down on your nose, the way you want to get them as near your face as you possibly can." his cue to push the glasses up again. "I wear them to bed. I put them on the minute I walk into this examination room because - well, I've created a testing situation which, for me, is a phenomenal turn-on, and me wearing these lovely thick glasses just adds to the personal pleasure I gain from it."
"Do you wear them in public though?" Allison asked.
He shook his head. "No. But that will change, as soon as I put on the glasses I've fitted with the other lenses. The lenses like yours that will make me a permanent hyperope. Then I'll have no choice, just like you."
"So, do that then," she told him. "Put them on."
"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.
He stood up. "Okay then," he said. "Let me just go and get them."
He returned moments later with a pair of dark-rimmed glasses in his hand. He sat back down. "The glasses I'm wearing right now," he said, "Are +12. But they do no permanent damage to my eyesight."
He took them off and placed them on the ground beside them. He then held up the other pair.
"These are +9, just like your prescription is now. This is the prescription I was wearing before, but in the harmless lens." He took a deep breath and one final look around. "This is scary," he said, before slowly bringing the glasses towards his face and slipping them on. "I really can't see a thing."
"Good," Allison smiled, watching his unfocussed eyes. Apart from the fact that she was still the one who was tied to the chair and had the trial frames taped to her face, the fact that he couldn't see now meant that he was the one at the disadvantage. "Now, while we're sitting here waiting for your eyes to adjust to your prescription, why don't you tell me more about your experience of creating hyperopes." And by the time you're finished telling me about that, she thought silently, you'll also be extremely hyperopic.
She couldn't wait.
He'd decided that, wherever he opened his new improved optical shop, it would have to be somewhere small, with no competition.
"The big towns and cities, they have more opticians than they know what to do with," he said. "I needed somewhere small and slightly isolated. A place where the nearest town was at least a couple of miles away, so that people would come to me for convenience sake.
"I advertised a free eye test for everyone when I set up shop here," he said. "Within moments of the advert appearing in the paper, I had my first customer booked. Her mum had phoned up for her - she was a seventeen year old in her last year of school and she was getting really bad marks in school, so her mum thought it was worth checking out her eyesight in case that was the cause of it." He shrugged. "It was a smart move on the parent's part - a lot of bad marks are down to uncorrected eyesight." He smiled blindly. "But this girl's bad marks were down to her being too busy with her boyfriend to do any homework or studying. Not for long though.
"She came in with her mum, insisting all the way that she could see just fine. I asked her mum if she wanted to go away for a few hours. 'I'll get to the bottom of this', I told her. I felt really nervous but really excited. The girl was stunningly pretty and she had massive violet eyes that I knew would look even more gorgeous behind heavy glasses. I knew I had to get everything right first time or I would end up in big trouble. And I would be too scared to try it ever again.”
"Using the drugs seemed a little unfair, so I'd opted for the tying up option. I'd spent ages attaching those bits of fabric to the underneath of the chair arms and legs. The gag and duct tape were lying in wait. I let her sit down in the chair and leaned over her to tie her in, just like I did to you. She struggled, demanded to know what was going on. I donned my glasses and she looked at me in horror, clearly wondering how I could have got by without glasses so strong before now. Then on went the trial frame and I made her read the piece of card. It became clear that she had normal vision, so I swapped the card for one my friend had given me, one with the smallest writing possible. When she couldn't read this, I made it clear that she was seriously long-sighted. She asked what I meant. I explained it to her and told her she was going to need strong glasses to correct it. She asked how strong, I told her I had yet to establish that. I kept increasing the lens power until she could read one of the middle lines on the new card. +5.5. She complained, like you did, that she couldn't see in the distance. I added another 1.5 as punishment and taped the frames to her face, making especially sure to gag her. After all, what if her mum came back early and heard her screams. 'Don't worry' I told her 'I'm going to choose you some glasses and I'll make them to your prescription and when I come back, you'll be able to see everything.' When I returned, with a pair of pink plastic glasses - my choice was limited even then - which held +7 lenses, she was all ready for them. I placed them on her face and, the second I did that, it was like she just gave up. The way you did, the way everyone else did. At that point I knew she wouldn't be telling anyone what had went on in the room." I let her out of the chair, took off my own glasses and went out to meet her mum. I told her that her daughter was seriously hyperopic, that she had to ensure that the girl wore her glasses all the time, and explained that she would need to be back in a month for a stronger prescription. I'd already decided on one - +11. Her violet eyes weren't magnified enough at her current prescription. She came back in the month and after a mockery of a test, I gave her new glasses. She told me her boyfriend had dumped her because he said she'd become a geek. But she said she didn't care. She was just glad that she could see well."
"That poor girl," Allison tutted. At least she had been aware at the time of her first test with him that all wasn't right. This girl probably not only thought she'd been stumbling around for years when she was in need of a +11 prescription, she also probably believed that all eye tests involved bondage.
"I don't really make any money out of my business as it is. I never charged the girls, I only charged the men because I didn't feel the need to give them strong prescriptions. By giving the girls these strong glasses, I felt like I was giving them a present. Because, in the end, they were always happy with their eyes."
"But did you actually have many customers?" Allison asked. "Because I haven't really noticed a lot of strong hyperopes around this area."
He shook his head. "That was the problem. I hardly had any customers. But I still had this need to make girls tremendously long sighted. That's when I decided to hell with unfair, I was going to use the drugs and I was going to be as immoral as possible.
"I would go to clubs, and lie in wait, watching the door. When the ideal candidate came in, I would go through the whole shoot a few looks rigmarole, then I would approach her and chat her up, culminating in me inviting her back to my flat. But I would propose one last drink before we went and, after I'd ordered the drink, I would drop the drug in it before taking it back to her. It took about half an hour to an hour to kick in, long enough for me to bundle us in a taxi and take her back to my place. By this point, she would be complaining of feeling drowsy, so I would place her gently on my bed and leave her. I'd go into the living room, take my glasses out of the drawer and slide them onto my nose with great delight. Then I'd check her bag to see if she carried glasses around with her. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn't. I always made sure they weren't myopic before leaving the club, innocently saying I had bad eyesight and had forgotten my glasses to turn the conversation to it. If they said they were long-sighted, or had good eyesight, we were good to go. Of course, some of the "Good sighted" ones turned out to be myopic, that was the first thing I'd measure when they went into paralysis.
"Anyway, if she carried glasses around with her, I would take them and make them up in a new prescription, usually in the range of +5 to +8 - I had made my second bedroom into a makeshift lab, you see. If not, I would use one of my 'here's one I prepared earlier' jobs. My rule was as follows: the prettier the girl, the stronger the prescription."
After this, he continued, he would go into the bedroom and stand above them. Their eyes would register surprise at the sight of him in his thick glasses, then fear as he gently lowered their very own strong glasses onto their faces. He would revel in the fact that their eyes were now so much bigger, and that after a short time, they would be completely reliant on them, forced to wear them forever.
He explained that most of them seemed to go into their own little dreamworld after that.
"They tell me later that I feature in their dream," he told Allison. "They say that they know I look familiar in the dream but can't place me until they wake up and realize it was me. Their dreams are always based on reality, because it always appears to be about me giving them strong or stronger glasses. And, when they wake up, they are wearing strong glasses. At first they're horrified," he continued. "Then, it is as if their dream has prepared them for it, they suddenly get really turned on." He smiled. "And that's when the fun begins to start."
He blinked suddenly and seemed to focus. "That's me," he smiled. "I'm officially a +9 hyperope now. I'll never be able to see perfectly when I take them off ever again." He turned to Allison. "What else do you want to know?"
"I want to ask you a couple more things. About me," Allison said.
His face softened. "You," he said quietly, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "God, that's a completely different story."
"The second I saw you, I knew you were different," he said quietly. "That secret part of me which felt so strongly about glasses - you had it too. Right?"
Allison nodded. It was true. No matter how much she tried to deny it.
"You didn't want to wear glasses. Superficially speaking, you were worried what people would think about you. But didn't a secret shudder of delight run through you the first time you were prescribed glasses? At the time you thought it was horror that you had to get glasses. But it wasn't. Right?"
"Right." Allison's head nodded again.
"You refused to wear them at school, or in front of your family. You wore them purely for studying or reading when you were alone in your bedroom. But - think about it. You studied more than ever didn't you? Told yourself it was so you would get the best marks possible. But was that the real reason? Or did you just get a secret thrill from wearing those glasses?"
"One day, you worked up the nerve to wear them outside your room. You went to the library, sat down in a corner table and slid them on your nose, thrilling in the fact that you were in effect out in public with them on."
"How did you know that?" she gasped.
"I know more than you realize," he stated calmly. "Then you briefly decided to hell with it, I'll walk home with them proudly on my nose. But then you ran into a friend of yours. She expressed surprise that you had glasses, you got all embarrassed, protested that you only needed them for reading and you'd forgotten to take them off, and stowed them away in your bag. I bet she was the only friend that knew for the rest of the school year that you had glasses. And she probably never saw your wear glasses again until after you had your test with me.
"Anyway," he said. "I'm going off the subject. Your hatred of glasses stemmed more from the fact that wearing them secretly turned you on than anything else. Think back, Allison. Weren't most of the guys you had secret crushes on spec wearers?"
Allison couldn't deny it. Although she'd always went out with the popular, good-looking blokes, she'd always had an eye for the nerdier boys in school. Maybe that was why she had not been disgusted that Pete liked to wear strong glasses over contacts. But was that why she constantly fantasized about the Optician in his thick plus lenses?
"When I first gave you those glasses, I bet you tried to take them off before you went somewhere people knew you," he said astutely. "But you couldn't, right? Well, that was nothing to do with the glasses or lenses - the reason you couldn't take them off was because you didn't actually want to take them off, you just thought you did. It was all in your head."
The more she thought about it, the more sense that made.
"These lenses," she asked. "You've told me they have special properties which make the wearer permanently long-sighted, and that they have an arousing effect on the wearer. Do they also force people to become attracted to the person who prescribed their glasses for them."
He laughed, shaking his head. "No, not as far as I know," he said. "But I said everyone finds these glasses a turn-on after a while, even people who previously weren't interested in glasses." He glanced pointedly at her. "Who's to say what they would do to a closet glasses fetishist like yourself? Anyway, you already admitted that you'd always been attracted to guys in glasses." He smiled. "So you're attracted to me?" he asked, almost shyly.
"Maybe it's more to do with that whole falling in love with your kidnapper theory," she said thoughtfully. "You were taking me hostage in a way. Still are, in fact."
He watched her warily. "I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you," he said suddenly, slightly awkwardly. "When I put your glasses on you at the start of the test to check your vision, I saw how good you looked in them, and I thought 'this girl is going to look amazing in +6 glasses. For a start. And I'd already sensed that you had similar feelings towards glasses, and I knew that once you got over the initial shock you would actually want your vision to deteriorate further. I was even tempted to schedule your next eye test for the following day, but I knew that was unreasonable. When I saw you that night out with that other guy, wearing your glasses, I knew for sure that I loved you. I was so jealous!"
"God," she murmured. The mad (gorgeous) Optician was in love with her. What to do, what to do? Her mind worked furiously, trying to find an answer. "So, how does it feel to be a permanent hyperope now?" she asked, unable to think of anything to say.
He lowered the glasses on his nose and looked over them, his eyes bleary and suddenly seeming tiny. He shook his head and pushed them back up onto the bridge of his nose, pushing them as tightly as possible against his face. "I didn't think it could get any more of a turn-on than it already was," he said softly. "But to actually need them now , to see how blurry things are without them and how clear and focused everything is the moment the lenses cover your eyes - I just want to glue them to my face and never take them off."
"I know how you feel," Allison smiled. "But I doubt that's a good idea."
"Anyway," he said. "I guess it's time to put your new glasses on." He returned to her side and began to remove the duct tape from the trial frame. "So," he said carefully as he gently pulled the tape from the nosepiece of the frame and reached around the right side of her face to free the frame there, "I told you how I felt about you. The question is, do you feel the same way?"
As he straightened up, she looked up at him, gazing thoughtfully at his handsome face and huge brown eyes, the eyes she had fantasized about, constantly wondered about as she pondered how he could possibly wear those thick glasses part-time. There was no longer any mystery and he was now a full-time hyperope. Both of them were condemned (or, in Allison's opinion, lucky enough) to be trapped wearing these glasses forever if they wanted to be able to function in the real world. They both had massive glasses fetishes, even if hers had been a closet fetish until a month before. And, if she was totally honest, with herself, no one had ever turned her on more than he had.
"I feel the same way," she said firmly.
Carefully he removed the trial frames from her face and she felt the blur envelop her. His fingers ran over the bridge of her nose, feeling the indents the frame had created as it had forced itself into her skin. Then he moved away, presumably to retrieve her glasses from the other end of the room where he had left them. But he didn't return immediately and she whispered: "Um - Optician?" She realized she'd just professed love to a guy she didn't even know.
She sensed him suddenly standing over her again.
"My name's Rick," he said crouching down in front of her.
She saw the glasses hovering fuzzily a couple of inches away from her nose and sighed in relief as they descended on her nose and he pushed them up, wrapping the earpieces around her ears, letting his hands leave the glasses and caress the sides of her face.
"You're so beautiful," he said. "These glasses just add to your beauty."
"I want to see my eyes," she said softly. He briefly let go of her and pulled a small mirror out of the pocket of his white coat and held it in front of her.
"My eyes are huge," she murmured captivated by the thickness of the lenses, the size her eyes were now. She looked up at Rick, her huge eyes sparkling. "Thank you," she whispered, as he placed the mirror on the table full of lenses, and turned back to her.
"It's my pleasure," he said. And, placing a hand on either arm of the chair, effectively trapping her further, he leaned into her and brushed lips with her, teasing her lips with his tongue until she submitted and opened her mouth to let him enter. She could hear their glasses clinking together, just like in her fantasy and his hands slowly moved up to touch the sides of her lenses. He began to push them further up her nose as he feathered tiny kisses around the edges of her lips and she surrendered to the sensation that he was arousing in both her lips and around her eyes and nose as the frames dug into her face. It also pushed the earpieces down on her ears, which also created a sore but not entirely unpleasant sensation. She longed to do the same to him but couldn't since she was still bound to the chair. Her hands were tied, both literally and metaphorically speaking.
He continued to kiss her and then she felt his hands move to her shirt buttons, slowly and carefully undoing them, as slowly and carefully as he had tested her eyes. What seemed like an age later, he pulled the shirt open and his lips slid down from her lips to her neck. She closed her eyes briefly as he felt his lips in the hollow of her throat, and the lenses of his thick glasses against her neck. He was moving his hands across her (bra-less) breasts and then he replaced his hands with his lips. As he moved down further, she felt her nipples hardening as she then felt his glasses against the soft skin of her breasts. The feel of the glasses was turning her on even more than his lips.
She'd consciously worn what she and her friends would term "easy access" clothes, hoping that she would get more than simply an eye test and stronger specs. He unbuttoned her short wrapover skirt in a second and it dropped useless to the floor. Then his lips and lenses on her stomach, he turned his attention to the panties.
Her legs were tied to the outside of each chair leg, meaning that her legs were apart anyway. She knew it would be hard to get her pants off. "They were pretty inexpensive pants," she told him between her gasps. He took the hint and ripped them off, before his head moved between her legs. She felt his tongue inside her, and the shock of his cold lenses against her body really came into play here. Her fantasies hadn't been anywhere as good as the real thing. He was an expert and she felt satiated within seconds. But he kept at her and over and over again she felt herself moaning as unfamiliar sensations shot through her body. Finally, he straightened again and smiled at her. They were both breathing hard and his glasses were dirty. Slowly, leisurely, he kissed her again, this time trying to avoid their glasses clashing, and when he pulled back again, she realized he had freed her arms. She reached out to the table where her glasses case sat, took the cleaning cloth, removed his glasses and carefully cleaned them for him. Then she handed them back to him, he put them on and unfastened the restraints around her legs.
She stood up, feeling slightly shaky. The test had lasted half an hour; she'd been left in the room alone for an hour and a half (which is when he must have been making up his fake +12 and new real +9 prescription - he obviously wasn't making hers up since that had been ready for a month). They'd talked for an hour and then this session had lasted another half hour. That would make it -she glanced at the clock on the wall - 1.30 in the afternoon. She'd been sitting in that chair for three and a half hours, and she was supposed to have been at work for twelve o'clock. Part of her wished she could be tied up in the chair forever.
"I'm late for work," she said, although that problem seemed stupid when she compared it to how great her experience in here had been. "I'll probably get fired."
He smiled at her. "Don't worry about it," he said calmly, backing her up against the eyechart and kissing the life out of her once again. He backed off and she stared awestruck into his magnified eyes. "After all," he added, his eyes sparkling, "This isn't real. You know it's just a dream right?"
Somehow it didn't come as a surprise to her. "I know," she said quietly, then she smiled. "But, believe me, I'm really looking forward to the reality this is preparing me for."
Allison pushed her glasses firmly against her face, keeping the force on them for several moments. That feeling of pushing your spectacles against your face could never be satisfied, like Rick had said earlier, you just could never get them close enough. She glanced at Rick, who was doing the same thing, his already huge eyes bulging further from the pleasure he seemed to be experiencing.
"When you told me about the girls that you pick up in nightclubs that you drug," she began. "You said that they go off into a dream during their paralysis and that you feature in it, giving them strong glasses, so that when they wake up they're not only prepared to be serious hyperopes, they are also turned on by the fact."
"Right," he nodded encouragingly.
"I didn't meet you in here," she said slowly. "I met you in a nightclub just a few hours ago, right? I walked in, you were there, our eyes met and you came over to talk to me. You asked me what the time was, you said you'd forgotten your watch and you'd lost a contact lens so you couldn't see right. Somehow that led us into a conversation about glasses. I admitted I had glasses for reading, but lied and said that I never wore them because they didn't really make a difference to the way I saw things. Soon after, you invited me back to your flat, I went to the bathroom, came back to find that you had bought me a vodka and fresh orange. I remember being in a taxi after that, but I can't for the life of me remember what happened next, Except that something strange was happening to my eyes."
"Right," he repeated, in the same encouraging tone of voice.
"So this dream must have been the one to prepare me for waking up wearing strong glasses." Allison glared at him. "Tell me, Rick, do all your "clients" get seduced in the chair in their dream?"
He shook his head. "All they tell me is about being bound in the chair with the strong lenses stuck on their face. They usually leave it at that."
Allison frowned. "Rick, I hate this. I really wanted this whole situation to be real." To wake up and realize that she was just another strong hyperope in Rick's book, and that she hadn't gone through this whole erotic testing situation - it would be devastating.
Rick touched her arm lightly.
"It will be real," he said softly. "You're going to wake up wearing those glasses, and I'm going to be there wearing mine. Then I'm going to take you into my makeshift lab, tie you up in the chair and sadistically test you so that you're wearing +12 glasses by the time I'm done with you."
Allison heard herself emit a moan of ecstasy at that thought.
"I can't wait," she murmured. "When can I wake up?"
He shook his head. "You can't do it on demand," he told her, his eyes gleaming. "You have to wait until the paralysis wears off. In real time, that will probably be another thirty to sixty minutes - I can't tell you how long it will be in your dream life. You've been under for three hours so far and lived for over a month in this world. A half hour could represent a couple of minutes here, or a couple of months. You'll just have to wait and see."
He released her. "You'd better go," he said quietly. "Whatever happens, I'll see you soon. Oh, and here," he passed her another glasses case. "These are the glasses you were wearing for the last month - I made them up with the new prescription. If you by some chance lose your glasses, there's no chance you'll be able to function without them. Okay?"
She nodded, and slipped the glasses case into her bag, along with the other (empty) case.
She walked into the foyer and he followed closely behind her, only this time he still had his strong glasses on when he wrote down a new appointment for her.
"If you're still here next month, come back again at 10 am," he told her. "And we'll see what we can do about that +12 prescription." He smiled and quickly gave her one last kiss. "I think we'll be seeing each other before that though. In the real world."
When she walked outside, she almost ran into someone walking in the other direction. As they both pulled back to apologize, Allison studied the girl with the thick glasses, although they were not as thick as her old pair. About +5. She looked familiar.
"Didn't we meet out here before?" she asked the girl. The girl peered more closely at her and nodded. "I guess you did get glasses for reading then?" she surmised. And for just about everything else, she added silently, knowing that girl had to be just as reliant on her glasses as she had been on hers.
"Yeah. I'm back because the optician said I would need a stronger prescription within a month." The girl smiled. "I can see quite clearly at the moment, but I know that even stronger lenses will really help out." She hesitated. "Although I don't understand why my prescription would increase so quickly."
Allison patted her arm comfortingly. "That's the way it is with hyperopia," she said, smirking as she prepared to walk away. "It happens to us all."
Later that evening, she went straight over to Pete's after they had finished work. She knew that, even though this was only a dream, she was going to have to end it with him, but she was nervous about how he would take it. It didn't help that he was more attentive and loving than ever, which was attributed mostly to her newer stronger glasses.
"+9," he kept saying, looking at her in amazement. "Wow!"
Allison knew that although Pete wanted more than anything to be a myope, he was still jealous of her strong prescription, even if it worked the other way from his preference. She stood up, eager to get away from his smothering attitude for a while. "I'm going to go and get us a takeaway," she said, pulling her purse out of her bag. "I'll see you in a while."
She left his flat and went into the park. Sitting down on a park bench and gazing at her surroundings, she wondered how she could possibly break up with him. After a while, she stood up and continued on her way through the park, heading slowly in the direction of the nearest fish and chip shop.
She probably shouldn't have left her bag in Pete's flat . . .
She let herself back in when she returned with a piping hot fish supper for herself and a steaming sausage supper for him. She found him in front of the TV, so engrossed in some American sitcom that he didn't even notice her until she sat down beside him. He suddenly became aware of her presence and she suddenly understood why he looked so guilty.
He was wearing her spare pair of +9s, the spectacle case sitting open on the arm of the sofa, the cleaning cloth on his lap. Evidently, he'd given them a feverish clean before placing them on his nose, eager to be in a blur.
Except, she realized in horror, his eyes were completely focused.
"This is incredible," he said, his eyes huge when he realized that she wasn't angry with them. "I'm sorry, I remembered you saying you had a spare pair and I couldn't resist. I had to know what it was like. And everything was really blurry at first, but I knew that was normal, it always took me a while to get accustomed to the -4 specs. But suddenly I could see through him. It's absolutely brilliant."
"Pete," she said quietly. "I want you to do something for me."
"Anything," he replied fervently.
"First of all, walk over to the other side of the room and look at yourself in the mirror." He did so and he frowned as he saw his reflection.
"God, and they always looked so good on you," he said. "These frames look ridiculous on me. And my eyes - they're horrible, all big and distorted." Privately, Allison thought he'd never looked better, but Rick was more important than Pete. "For the first time, I'm actually glad I have perfect vision."
"Guess again, Pete. Take off the glasses." She saw the horror on his face as he tried to and failed. He managed to lower the glasses ever so slightly on his nose and was even more horror-struck as he realized he really could not see past the tip of his nose. In fact, he could barely see the tip of his nose either, for that matter.
Allison crossed the room and stood in front of him. "You wanted bad vision," she said softly. "And now you have it."
She reached up and pushed the glasses hard back against his face.
"Keep the glasses, you'll need them forever. They can be your memory of me. Because we're over."
She collected her bag and headed towards the door. He let her go without protest and she walked down the stairs. It had been so easy in the end, she thought. That was her last thought before she tripped on the last flight of stairs and tumbled down several steps, banging her head against the hard concrete floor and descending into blackness . . .
She opened her eyes, her vision was completely clear. She was in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar bed. All her muscles were tingling, as if they had just woken up. The first thing she noticed was that there was an eyechart on the ceiling directly above her head. The second was that something heavy was pressing down on her face.
She struggled to lever herself into a sitting position against the bed's headboard, and gasped as she saw her reflection in the mirrored wall straight in front of her. In the taxi, she'd been bare-eyed and functioning well. Now her gold rimmed glasses, once with a mild +1 and +0.5 prescription were heavy on her nose with the weight of the two +9 lenses they contained. Her eyes, already massive, widened in brief horror, then she smiled. Standing up, she walked over to the mirror and examined herself further. Apart from the glasses, she was naked. In front of the mirror, incredibly turned on, she let her hands roam over her body.
Suddenly, Rick was behind her, thick glasses firmly placed on his nose, also naked. He wrapped his arms around her.
"I meant what I said in your dream," he said softly, burying his face (and cool glasses) in her warm neck. "I do love you. I want us to be together."
"You put on real +9 glasses in the dream to become a permanent hyperope," she said softly, watching his face in the mirror. "Are you a permanent hyperope now in this world?"
"Yeah. While you adjusted to your glasses, I lay on the bed beside you and adjusted to mine. I was a bit apprehensive but I knew that if I wanted to be with you, you would want me to do it."
"Clever boy," she murmured. "So, now are you going to do as you promised?"
"Of course." He led her by the hand into his lab and sat her in the chair. He picked up a pair of dark rimmed glasses like the ones he himself was wearing. "How are these?" he asked.
"They're great," she nodded firmly.
"Good," he smiled. He reached over, removed her gold rims and placed the new stronger glasses on her face. She heard him move about a while longer and then she heard him stumbling back towards her. As she sat there, helpless, blind and naked, he seduced her. When her vision cleared (it took minutes rather than hours) she saw that he was also wearing even stronger glasses.
"I thought we should match," he murmured, untying her. He lead her back to the bedroom. "So how often do you think we should have an increase in prescription?" he asked her huskily, pushing her onto the bed and covering his body with her own, lightly teasing her lips with his own
She sighed and looked into his vastly magnified eyes. "At least every couple of days," she murmured back before surrendering herself to him.
What she had thought was her worst nightmare had actually been what she longed for most. And, for once, reality had surpassed her dreams.
An appointment card lay beside her on the bed when she woke up the following morning, still bespectacled. An appointment for three days time was noted on it. At the bottom, thrillingly, Rick had scrawled "New prescription of +14 inevitable." Allison grinned, and pushed her thick glasses as close to her face as she possibly could. For the first time, she felt satisfied with how close they were.
EPILOGUE - JUST A FEW LOOSE ENDS TO TIE UP
When Allison went into work that morning, she was nervous about people seeing her in glasses. As she stood in the lift, she reached up to take them off, to wait until she sat down at her desk, like she had wanted to do in her dream. Then she realized she didn't want to. She lowered her hand, tossed back her hair and strutted into the office with her eyes proudly magnified. People stared in surprise but most commented positively on the change. Because, although her glasses were thick, she oozed a new sort of sexuality that made her irresistible to all.
Three days later, as promised, Allison went to the Opticians and, once in the examination room, Rick stripped her of her clothes and bound her to the chair. He tested her eyes, taped the trail frames to her face and pleasured her while she adjusted to the +14 lenses. Then, to her great delight, they swapped roles and she returned both favors. She did such a good job that Rick suggested she become his assistant. She agreed, on the condition that he started to give men stronger glasses than they really needed as well. And that she got the opportunity to tie them up.
Rick was only too happy to agree.
Funnily enough, Allison's mum or the rest of her family didn't notice that her glasses prescription had increased by +13. When she came home for a change of clothing, they knew she looked different, but they thought she'd changed her hairstyle. Allison didn't mind. It made things easier for her.
The following day, Allison saw the girl from her dream, the one who had the appointments directly after her. She was wearing +8 glasses.
Mysteriously, on the same day that Allison appeared wearing glasses, one of her co-workers, Pete Ellison, a guy she'd had a crush on for a long time, also started wearing glasses. Like hers, they were strong plus, although not quite as strong as hers. More surprisingly, as he was usually a stylish guy, his glasses were unfashionable oversized brown plastic frames. When people commented to him that they were shocked to see him in glasses, his only reply was "Yeah, it took me by surprise too."
Never was truer a word spoken.
As for Allison and Rick, they were blissfully happy together, but for one problem. In their opinion, there still wasn't enough hyperopes in Britain. Rick had done a pretty good single-handed number but, working together, they were sure they would produce some very positive results. Which could only be a PLUS point.
THE END - OR IS IT???