I didn't think too much about it the day I wore my new miniskirt to school. It was red, with purple and white flowers printed on it. I had not worn a mini since about fifth grade, but now the style was back in fasion. It was a warm but windy day, so I wore a slip underneath to cover my underwear in case a breeze surprised me.
I had planned to wear pantyhose as well, but my new pair already had a run, so Mom lent me her thigh-high stay-ups. I didn't really like them, but they came up high enough so the bands at the top didn't show.
My last class of the day was geometry, and, as usual, I just sat and did nothing while Mr. Watters lectured to us for a few minutes about hypotenuses and cosines. After that, I did my assignment in class and prepared to hand it in just before the end of the period. I had to go work at the local burger joint, and didn't want to have to mess with homework late in the evening. I almost fell when I stood up, as my right leg had gone to sleep. We all giggled while Mr. Watters asked me if I was okay. I told him that my nylons must have been too tight. I think he wanted to suggest that I take them off, but he instead just told me to be careful.
I hurried home after school, because I had to change into slacks for my job at the burger place. I took off my nylons first and hoped that the circulation would return to my leg, which was still numb. Still not feeling anything, I then found my work clothes and put on my slacks. When I stood up, I fell all the way to the floor. I tried to feel my right leg to pull it up; it was gone! I took off the slacks to see my leg, and it looked fine--until I tried to touch it and my hand went right through it. I sat down on my bed.
"Honey, it's time for you to go!" Mom called.
"Mama, could you come here? Something weird's going on," I started to cry.
I stood in my underwear in front of Mom and passed my hand through where my leg was supposed to be. Mom fainted.
"Tammy, let's go!" shouted Judy a few minutes later. She was my oldest sister, and had gotten me my job. She usually drove me to work.
"Judy, come here! Something's wrong with me!"
"Can we talk about it in the car? We're late!"
"No!"
Judy stormed up the steps and saw Mom passed out on the floor. "What happened?" she asked. "Come help me get her up!"
"I can't," I said.
"Why not?"
I stood up and passed my hand through my visible but nonexistent leg. Judy turned white but didn't faint. "I showed this to Mom."
"Is this some kind of trick?" Judy demanded.
"No, but I don't know what it is. My foot went to sleep in geometry this afternoon. I almost fell down when I handed in my assignment. I was afraid someone would look up my skirt." I showed her the skirt I had worn that day.
"Put it on," she said, and I did. She tried to pass her hand through my leg, but was unable to do so. I tried to do likewise, with the same result. I took off the skirt, and Judy passed her hand through my leg.
"It's the skirt," said Judy.
"What am I going to do? I can't wear the skirt to work. It's against the rules."
"Maybe you can tuck it into your slacks," said Judy. I pulled on the skirt and tucked it into my slacks--and fell down. I tried wearing the skirt outside of the slacks--and fell again. I tried different pairs of pants--jeans, slacks, shorts. In each case, I had no right leg when I wore pants. I tried on a couple of other skirts as well as some dresses. When I tried them on, I had a phantom leg: I could see it, but I could also pass my hand through it. Finally, I tried on the miniskirt under some other skirts--and had a useful right leg again. "You have no right leg without that miniskirt," Judy concluded, and I had to agree.
"This sucks. They'll never let me work in a skirt."
Mom woke up. "You want to go to work in your skirt?"
"I may have to, Mom. My right leg disappears if I wear anything else." I repeated my experiments with various slacks, jeans and shorts. Even wearing shorts under my miniskirt left me one-legged.
Judy took me to the restaurant, where we tried to explain my predicament to the owner. He was sympathetic, but insisted the rule about wearing pants was for my safety. I told him I understood, but wasn't there something I could do if I had to wear a skirt?
"Not really," he said. "Everyone works out here in the kitchen. I'm sorry, but if you can't solve your problem, I'll have to let you go."
We went home that night. I didn't each much for dinner. I decided to take off the miniskirt to go to bed. It felt weird sleeping with only one leg, but at last I dozed off. I tried not to think too much about my problem, but it was hard to think much of anything else. The next day, I decided to try and find another job.
I put on a pair of pantyhose after I had put on that cursed miniskirt. As soon as I tried to stand up, I fell down. My right leg was visible, but non-functional. My miniskirt would only let me wear thigh-highs, or no stockings at all. At least my legs were in good enough condition to go without stockings, even if the day was a bit cool.
I interviewed at a couple of little stores where there was no specific dress code, as well as an office where women were expected to wear skirts. Unfortunately, the skirts they were supposed to wear were rather long, which would mean I'd have to wear something longer over my miniskirt. Eventually, however, I got hired as a telephone receptionist at a warehouse. The hours were irregular--less than 20 per week--and the pay sucked. Still, it was a job, and I didn't have to wear pants to do it.
Later that week, Mom took me to the doctor to let him see what was going on. After watching me put my hand through my right leg while I was wearing shorts under my miniskirt, he ordered some X-rays. When I took off my shorts and was wearing just my miniskirt, the X-ray of the leg looked normal. When I put the shorts back on underneath, there was only a faint glow on the picture where my leg should have been.
"Would it be better to cut of my leg so I could just wear pants?" I asked. Mom was shocked, and the doctor was also surprised.
"Perhaps we could fit you with an artificial leg that you could wear with pants. You could take it off when you wore your skirt, since your leg would be available then. You'd just have to remember to take off your leg before you put on your skirt." The doctor scowled. "There is another problem, however. We can't really tell where your leg begins and the stump begins. We have to be pretty exact; your artificial leg must fit you precisely."
I put on a pair of shorts and some more X-rays were taken. About half an hour later, the doctor came back to our exam room and scowled again. "These X-rays don't really show us where your stump, if you even have one, begins. The whole right side of your body below your waist is vague." He looked at me. "Would you lie down?" he asked.
I did.
"I am going to try to feel where your stump begins. Maybe I can get an idea of what's going on."
I was rather nervous, but since I had shorts on, I assured him and Mom that everything was okay. The doctor put on an examination glove and placed his hand on, then "inside," my leg. He felt around for a long time. At last, he pulled his hand out.
"I couldn't feel anything. Did you feel anything?"
I shook my head. He took off the examination glove, and reached for a pen to write down some notes. "What the--?" he shouted. He had no right hand.
"Put the glove back on!" I shouted, and a nurse came running.
"Something wrong?" the nurse asked.
"My hand!" the doctor said. "I just did an examination, and now I have no hand."
The nurse later said she had seen some pretty gruesome stuff in her lifetime, so she did not faint easily. Still, she was almost white as she helped the doctor put the glove back on, and paler still as a functioning hand filled the space. The doctor put down his pen, as he had forgotten what he was going to write.
"I've heard of this before," said the nurse. "I always thought it was some crackpot science."
"What?" we all seemed to ask at once.
"Somehow, your leg is partly in another dimension. You can only use it when you wear that skirt. Doctor will only be able to use his hand with that particular glove on it."
"Are you crazy?" asked the doctor.
"Look at your hand," said the nurse. "You will have to wear that particular glove the rest of your life. She will have to wear that particular miniskirt the rest of her life. If she takes it off for more than a couple of hours, not only her leg but also her internal organs on her right side below her waist leave our dimension, and she will rapidly become very ill and die."
They took X-rays of my internal organs both with and without me wearing my miniskirt, and the nurse's explanation seemed to be true. The doctor soon retired, since he had little feeling in his hand, though he could write so long as he could see what he was doing. He eventually wrote a couple of textbooks and taught some courses.
It has been five years now. I take very good care of my miniskirt, usually wearing it under a longer dress. I wore it under a long dress when I was one of my best friends' bridesmaids, and I'll have to wear it under my wedding dress when my boyfriend and I get married next year. There is only one question left, though: if my husband ever wears a condom while we have sex, will the same thing happen to his penis that happened to Dr. Murphy's hand?
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