T H I R S T Y S O M E T H I N G

 

AN UNUSUAL TALE

 

WRITTEN BY STRZEKA

DEDICATED TO MY FRIEND STEVEN P.

 

The first part of a trilogy, followed by OneOff and The ‘A’ Factory

 

 

J A N U A R Y

 

_Night was already falling but the temperature was rising. Snow was becoming sleet and Conrad Alton pulled his hood up as he got off the tram. Hurrying to his workplace, he let himself in through the back door and hit the light switch. Obviously today he’d beaten his colleague Denis Preston. Maybe Den had been held up by the weather. Conrad shucked his streetwear and changed into his uniform of cut-off jeans and black hoody emblazoned with the logo Chaste. He passed through the kitchen, pushed the swinging doors open and surveilled the bar. Muted lighting revealed black leather seating and reflected off marble tabletops. Blue neon letters reading Chaste hung along the front window. The illuminated fridge hummed behind the bar. Conrad slipped behind it, switched the cash register on and inspected the displays showing levels of lager left in the barrels. One of them showed empty and Conrad remembered that the dispenser had behaved erratically the previous evening. He decided he would change a new barrel now rather than half an hour after opening and trying to serve a few litres of froth.

 

Three beer barrels were always stacked on top of each other in the cellar. The top one was always a little awkward to lift but all the bar staff were tall enough to manage them. Conrad eased one off the lower barrel and lowered it to the ground. Its registration tag fell to the floor. Conrad cursed and reached down to retrieve it, nudging the adjacent column of barrels with his butt. The uppermost one toppled, hitting Conrad‘s outstretched arm, snapping it and trapping his hand. Conrad was too surprised to make a sound until he looked at the barrel and how very close to the floor its rim was. He began to keen. This arm had been broken before when he was a young boy. He returned to school with his arm in a cast and his schoolmates were fascinated by the alien appearance of his arm. This injury was a little more serious. He didn’t dare move because of the pain. Most shocking was how near the floor the rim of the barrel was. It weighed only about seventy kilos but had fallen from two metres and landed on its edge. On Conrad’s outstretched left wrist.

 

            – You in there, Con? called Denis. Con? Anyone there?

Alerted by the lights being on, Denis knew someone had arrived before him. Conrad gathered his wits and called out.

            – Den! I’m here! I’m in the cellar. Ah mate, help me!

The door swung open and Denis rushed in. He couldn’t immediately see Conrad but heard his workmate whimpering and soon found him trapped next to the beer barrel. Just as he rushed forward to lift it off his mate’s arm, Conrad shouted.

            – Leave it! If you lift it off, I’ll start losing blood, Call an ambulance!

            – How long have you been there?

Denis pulled out his phone and hit the emergency call button.

            – A few minutes.

            – Are you in pain? What should I do?

            – Emergency services. Which service do you require?

            – Oh hi, I need an ambulance please. To the Chaste restaurant on Market Street, but around the back entrance.

            – Can you describe the emergency please?

            – My workmate’s arm is trapped under a heavy barrel and it looks broken to me. It doesn’t seem to be bleeding very much but I don’t want to move it myself.

            – That’s exactly right, don’t try. An ambulance is on its way and should be with you in about seven minutes. Make sure someone is outside to direct the ambulance driver.

            – Yes, thank you.

 

An ambulance arrived and Denis hurried the medics inside to where Conrad lay trapped.

They explained briefly what they were about to do and applied a tourniquet to Conrad’s upper arm. The barrel was lifted off, Conrad was placed on a stretcher and carried to the ambulance. Denis wandered into the bar and sat down on a sofa in the darkened bar. What should he do to get help? He could call the other bar staff but decided to inform his foreman.

            – Hi, this is Denis Preston from the bar. I just arrived at work to find Conrad Alton injured and his arm smashed up. He’s been taken to hospital already but what should I do now? We need someone in quick.

–    I’m on my way. Do you think you can open at five as usual?

–    I could manage for half an hour or so, I suppose.

–    OK, I’ll be there in twenty minutes and then you can go home, I don’t think you feel like doing a shift after what you’ve just seen.

–    Ah well, it’s not too bad. Well, whatever. See you soon.

 

F E B R U A R Y

 

Dr Dominic Ross inspected his handiwork. He grasped Conrad’s arm gently and peered closely at it, turning it from side to side and feeling the end of the freshly healed stump. He felt sympathy for the young man whose injury had proved resistant to healing despite lengthy surgery to reattach his hand. Gangrene had developed after four days and Conrad’s left hand was amputated mid-forearm. Ross hummed his satisfaction with his handiwork.

            – You know, young man, I think this is about as ready as it can be. I’ll arrange for a prosthetician to take a look. He’ll make you a prosthesis, an artificial arm, and then you’ll be in physical therapy for a few days. Does that sound OK to you?

            – I suppose so.

            – And the other thing is that we’re discharging you today. You have a place to go to, don’t you?

            – Yeah, I have a flat. Do you think I’ll be able to manage?

            – Well, you’re going to learn how to manage. But for the next few weeks, a district nurse will be calling in on you twice a week to do medical checks and any minor work around your home you’re not yet able to do for yourself. So you will still have our eye on you. But right now, you have an appointment with the prosthetician. After he’s seen you, you’re free to go home. Collect your stuff from up here and off you go. You’re a good lad and I don’t think having an artificial arm is going to hold you back from anything you set your mind to.

            – Thank you for that. And thank you for this!

Conrad held his truncated forearm encased in a tight shrinker bandage in his right hand and inspected it with trepidation and excitement. Colin was going to freak out.

 

Half an hour later, Conrad was wheeled four storeys down to Phys/Rehab, as the label in the lift stated. As soon as he arrived, a short – too short – man wearing a white jacket approached and asked for his name and ID number. He introduced himself as Otto Lynn and quickly explained he would be coaching Conrad in selecting and using his new artificial arm. The nurse wheeled Conrad into a small room with walls covered in advertising posters for amputee gear and left. Lynn waddled into the room and pulled himself up onto a chair facing Conrad. Cylindrical carbon sockets pointed distractingly towards Conrad.

            –Well, how do you do? My name is Otto Lynn and I’m your physiotherapist and I’ll also be responsible for providing you with your first prosthesis. The first test socket should be ready by the end of the week, this being Monday.

            – That soon? 

            – Oh yes. Your stump is still swollen and it will shrink to its final size over time but we can compensate for that and fortunately, it is easy to make a prosthesis for you even if your stump has not yet reached its final size. What I’m going to do now is make a plaster cast of your arm which we will use to make a socket. You’ll put your stump into the socket, which will have some kind of terminal device like a false hand or hook at the end, and a harness over your shoulders to keep it on and to control the terminal. Do you understand?

            – Yes, of course.

            – Now, I want to show you some of the choices you have for the terminal device.

Lynn opened a drawer and extracted several hooks and a couple of hands.

            – I know they look intimidating but they are all useful in their own way. You will have a choice of two of these when you leave here, so I’ll explain the advantages and disadvantages of each.

            – All I want is a hook. That hand is so fake that I can’t imagine ever using it.

            – Quite understandable. It is really designed to disguise the fact that you are an amputee. Personally I think artificial hands only emphasize the fact. If you want to actually use an artificial arm, it’s better to have something which may be ugly but efficient. Let’s go through this selection.

They did so and Lynn put in an order for a Hosmer #5 and a Hosmer #7, as he called them.

            – These will do you for a few weeks until you start to find things you could do better with a different design. We’ll always be here for you but there are other independent services you may prefer – it’s up to you. But now, let’s get you casted and then we can start on your socket. Come over to the casting room for me. As you may have noticed, I’m an amputee myself so I have some experience with stumps beyond what most prostheticians have. I’m using these stubbies until my usual pair is repaired. They got a bit wet and the electronics seized up.

 

Comfortably seated with his arm stump resting on a padded bar, Conrad watched Lynn apply a plaster bandage to his stump and listened as the procedure was explained. The cast would be used to make a precise copy of Conrad’s stump which in turn would help form the socket to which a hook or hand would be attached.

            – OK, we’re done here. Wash your arm over here and then we’ll be done. I understand from Dr Ross that you’ll be going home today. Would you like me to order a taxi?

            – Oh, that’s not really necessary. My flat is only about twenty minutes away and the walk will do me good.

            – As you wish. We’ll let you know when the test socket is ready and you can come and try it on. If it fits and you’re comfortable with it, we can make your first proper prosthesis in a few days. You should have it by the end of next week. How does that sound?

            – Fine with me. Thanks very much.

 

Conrad made it home without incident carrying his dirty laundry and other bits in a hold-all. He decided during the walk that the first thing he needed to get was a rucksack. Once inside, he brewed some coffee and called his foreman at Chaste.

            – Hi! I’m out! Listen, I’ll nip in this evening and we can talk things over, if that’s OK. It’s only Monday so it shouldn’t be that busy.

The foreman, Gregg Chester, paused for a second before replying.

            – OK , I’ll see you later. How are you feeling?

            – I’m alright. Things seem a bit odd. But we’ll talk later. I’ll see you around six.

 

After a shower, changing into a tracksuit and applying a fresh shrinker bandage to his arm stump, Conrad left home and rode into town on the tram. He supposed he should be feeling self-conscious about his injured arm with its missing hand, but he did not. He was thinking about how it would look to have a hook protruding from his sleeve. How it would look to someone sitting opposite him. He thought about what it meant to lose a hand but gain a hook. He liked the idea. The lack of symmetry was annoying but it was only to be expected and he did not anticipate it bothering anyone else.

 

            – Good to see you again so soon, Con. I had no idea when we might see you again and it’s only been a few weeks. How are you doing?

            – I’m OK, Gregg. Learning to do things in a new way, I suppose you could say. It’s strange not to have anything on my left side to help out but I’ll have my first artificial arm next week so we’ll see if that makes a difference.

            – Right. Well, as you know, the insurance claim has gone through and been approved so the compensation money should tide you over for a while, however much it is. Twenty or thirty thousand at least, I’d imagine. What we would like to know, though, is how that barrel could fall in the first place. I mean, they’ve always been stacked in the same way without one ever dislodging itself, so how did the one that fell on you topple? That’s what we can’t understand. We’ve already made the decision that barrels can only be stacked two high. But it seems so unlikely, next to impossible.

            – I’ve thought about that too. All I did was nudge the stack and the barrel came down. I can’t explain it. Anyway, what I wanted to talk about is coming back to work. I’ll have my new arm next week and I reckon I should be ready by the end of the month. What do you think?

            – Con, I’ve got some bad news for you. The boss doesn’t want you back. I have some papers which officially terminate your employment here. You need to sign them and accept that the compensation you get from Chaste’s insurance is all that you’ll demand from the company. So you’re always welcome as a customer but we can’t have you behind the bar after this.

            – Well, that’s a slap in the face. Or a kick in the balls. That’s not what I expected after what happened.

            – I don’t like it either but those are my instructions. Wait a minute and I’ll get the papers.

Conrad leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He had half anticipated being dismissed but it was still a disappointment when it came. Gregg reappeared with a few papers.

            – You need to sign here and here and here. We’ll be paying your full wage until the end of March but after that you’re on your own. I’m sorry, Con. You’re a good kid and the customers like you so I’m sorry to see you leave, especially like this. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I’d like to help but apart from calling round other bar acquaintances asking for a favour, I don’t see what else I can do.

            –I don’t know what to say. I can sort of understand but I feel I’m still able to carry on working like before.

            – I know. But that’s the way it is at the moment. At least you’ll have some cash to tide you over.

Conrad signed the papers formalizing the termination of his job. He felt let down but not undeterred. He could still make a living as a skilled bar tender and he’d make an impression by doing so one-handed. Somewhere and somehow.

Instead of going home, he sat in the customers’ saloon and ordered a beer. A waft of cool air announced the arrival of a new customer. It was Colin. One-armed Colin, injured in Afghanistan and missing his right arm entirely. Conrad had shared a bed with Colin once after the giant amputee had literally picked him up and carried him outside after his shift ended.

            – Over here, mate!

            – Hey! Good to see you. Haven’t seen you for a while. Been on your holidays, have you?

Conrad chuckled.

            – Not exactly a holiday. Take a look at this.

He raised his left arm and pulled back the sleeve until his bandaged stump poked through.

            – Fuck me! What happened?

Conrad gave a quick explanation and suspected it was something he would often be repeating for years to come.

            – And to top the lot, I’ve just been handed my marching papers.

            – Well, that’s a bit of a pisser. Not surprising though. Are you getting a pros?

            – Yeah, the first one should be ready in a few days.

            – I wondered if you might be one of those guys who don’t bother with one. Like me, haha. None of my arms are any use other than as sleeve stuffers. Haven’t got a stump, have I?

 

Conrad looked at him with amusement. The empty shoulder had fascinated Conrad during their night together and Colin had freely let him fondle it.

            – Look, do you want to sit around here or shall we go somewhere where we can talk? I have got something you might be interested in.

            – Let’s go. Sounds all very mysterious.

 

They had a pizza and a couple of beers each during which time Colin remained close-lipped about his idea. Emptying his glass, he suggested going back to his pad. Conrad agreed and the two amputees departed into the night.

 

Colin explained his idea later that evening as the two lay semi-naked in Conrad’s flat. He had been thinking about starting a gay pub in a basement space which had caught his eye just outside the town centre near the station. He had been waiting for a suitable business partner to appear. Now Conrad was out of a job, newly disabled and the two got on well with each other, Colin suggested the pair of them lease the space and turn it into a bar where all the staff were arm amputees. So the bar tenders would be flashing hooks and the place was certain to garner free advertising through human interest items in the media. The pair of them had access to enough money to invest and Colin had a regular source of money in his generous disability pension. What could possibly go wrong? The rest of the night was spent wanking and snuggling into each other until both fell asleep, Conrad’s stump resting on Colin’s empty shoulder.

 

            – Do you reckon there are enough hook users to staff a bar?

            – I know three other guys who might well be interested. Two of them are working in restaurant kitchens, kept safely out of sight of customers. They might like a change of scenery. And if we can’t find genuine amps, we’ll insist all our bar tenders wear theatrical prostheses which are like the real thing but slightly longer to accommodate a clenched hand inside.

            – Oh, I’ve never heard of anything like that. How strange. Good idea! Look, ask the other guys if they’d be interested and we can check out renting the space and getting it redecorated and fitted out.

            – Great! I’m glad you agree. We also need to register a new company and get shit like tax worked out but that’s easy enough. Shall we do it, then?

 

And so they started to do it. Over the next few evenings, they worked out a detailed business plan and Conrad invented the name Thirstysomething. It would be registered as a bar licensed to sell alcohol, serving the public between the hours of noon and two in the morning. The premises were leased for three years with an option to continue. The space had once served as a disco and had a small kitchen and rear delivery access. The frontage was a set of eight steps down to a wide entrance door and there was a squat, long window the width of the bar almost at street level. The toilets needed sprucing up but that could be sorted by an interior designer.

 

Conrad had been promised post-op care at home in the form of twice weekly visits by a district nurse. He had anticipated a stout, bossy woman who spoke with a Scottish accent so when Mica Hall rang the doorbell at eleven the next morning announcing himself to be the nurse, Conrad was both surprised and pleased. Mica stood a hundred and ninety-five centimetres tall in his socks, had muscles bulging through his jacket and a big friendly smile.

            – Come in. God, I was expecting someone quite different! And you’re the district nurse? That’s great!

            – Thank you for saying so. Yep, it’s my job to see you’re not in any medical trouble or physical distress and to make sure you’re not planning to top yourself or anything like that. I can see from your expression you are not in immediate distress, Conrad.

            – Er, oh well, I mean, no, sorry! No, I’m doing OK apart from having a fresh arm stump.

            – Well, that’s why I’m here. Can you take your shirt off and I’ll have a look at it. I think we should change the compression bandage. Let’s sit somewhere where you can hold a cushion or pillow under your arm while I bandage it.

They moved to the living room.

            – Nice space you have. Now, hold your stump up and we’ll dress it with a new compression bandage. Try to remember what I’m doing because the bandage should be reapplied every morning and you’ll have to learn to do it yourself. You do live alone, don’t you? Right, well I’ve brought some compression bandages with me. And a How-To leaflet which explains what I’m doing now. Ah, that looks very good, nice length and scarless apart from just here. That will fade and your stump will look no more disturbing than a finger tip.

 

Mica’s visits lasted about forty minutes each time. Conrad looked forward to seeing him and nursed an erection as Mica felt and tended to his healing stump. Mica had handsome hands and Conrad was intrigued by his manicured fingernails, all of which were varnished black.

 

 

 

M A R C H

 

Conrad received his first prosthetic arm on March 3rd. The socket was smooth, glossy black carbon fibre and terminated in a stainless steel split hook, the Number Five. Its harness comprised leather straps joined to a steel ring between Conrad’s shoulders.

            – I want you to visit our rehabilitation centre on five days over the next few weeks. You’d learn soon enough how to operate the prosthesis anyway but rehab will be able to give you a few pointers and hopefully prevent you from developing some bad habits.

            – Too late for that!

            – Ha! I have no doubt. And the first session is right now. It’s just next door so grab your things and follow me.

 

Conrad met his rehab coach, Jesse, who took his details and inspected his stump. The first advice came as Conrad started to don his prosthesis.

            – It’s easier if you attach the harness first. Get that comfortably in place and you’ll then be able to slip your stump into the socket because it’ll be in the correct position. Easier to do standing.

            – That makes sense. This harness feels a bit tight.

            – Yes, it’s supposed to be tight. The hook opens by the cable meeting resistance as you move your shoulder or forearm. If the harness is loose, the ring at the back moves too and there is insufficient tension to control the hook. It shouldn’t be too tight, of course. Wear it over a t-shirt. The leather straps will soon conform to your body which will make them more comfortable.

 

For the next ninety minutes, Conrad practised extending his arm to open the hook and moving his right shoulder to operate it while keeping the hook in place. Next he sat at a table practising his new mechanical dexterity with some wooden blocks. It appeared childish but was actually quite fun once he’d found a comfortable position in which to operate the hook.

            – You’re doing fine. That’s the basics down pat. Let’s take a break. Tea OK?

            – Yes, thanks.

 

Jesse placed two cups and saucers, sugar lumps and a couple of tea bags in their individual envelopes onto a tray and boiled water. He returned to the table where Conrad sat, still moving wooden cubes from one shallow container to another.

            – Let’s see if you can manage this with your hook. Take a saucer first. You might need to rotate the hook with your other hand to get the fingers into a suitable angle.

Conrad fumbled a little but pinched the edge of a saucer and dragged it towards him.

            – Now the cup. Ah, you see the problem? You have to position the cup first so the hook can close on the handle. Aim for the top of the handle. Because you no longer have wrist movement and can rotate the socket only a little, it’s important that you think beforehand about how your hook will interact with the object you want to manipulate. Try one of the tea bags. Hold the envelope in the hook so you can tear the top off. Awkward, isn’t it? Some people prefer to use scissors. Try using the tips of the hook to pull the tea bag out. Good – mind your hand, here comes the water. Take some sugar if you want.

 

Colin reached across with his hook and noticed it was positioned wrongly so he deftly twisted it to point downwards and plucked a sugar cube between his steel fingers.

            – That’s all for today as far as our official rehab goes. I have to say I’m impressed with your skill. A lot of my patients seem to struggle at first. I suppose they don’t realise that the artificial arm is just a tool which they have to learn to operate. It doesn’t work by just expecting it to. Next time we’ll talk about dressing and shaving and so on.

 

The two young men changed the subject and talked about holiday plans and destinations already visited. Teatime over, Conrad and Jesse arranged a date for their next rehab session and Conrad left the building intensely conscious of wearing a steel hook visible to anyone who looked. He felt rather distinguished and felt the welcome comfort of a slowly growing erection.

 

Back home, he found a note from Mica, the district nurse, on the doormat. He stooped to pick it up but changed hands halfway. He tried grabbing the note with his hook. Reaching down, the hook opened, exactly as it was designed to. He was unable to close the fingers around the note. Feeling disappointed, Conrad snatched the note with his hand and read.

“Hi Con! Sorry can’t call in this week. Phone the clinic if you need someone round. Emergency case just came up. Talk later, be good! Mica”

 

Colin turned up at four, as they had arranged, for a progress report to keep Conrad up to date as his healing progressed.

            – Ah, look at you with the hook! That’s great. You got it today, right? How does it feel? Can you wank with it?

            – I’ve not had the chance to try. I’ve only just got off the tram.

            – Well, you shouldn’t let that stop you. It looks pretty vicious. Imagine being served a beer by a guy holding it in his hook!

            – That, my friend, is the whole point of the exercise. Shall we get to it?

 

The name Thirstysomething was approved and registered. Colin had roped in a very talented and very alcoholic friend to design a logo and typeface for the name of the bar to be created in white neon along the entire length of the only windows the bar possessed. Any passers-by would also be able to glimpse life within but unable to discern details or identities because of the neon glare. They both thought it would look stunning. Colin had promised his mate three free drinks every week for a year as payment, who thought it a better deal than the money he would otherwise have been offered. The premises were now theirs to design as they wished, as long as they met certain safety and decency laws, to be inspected before opening. An interior designer had been engaged and suggested walls of charcoal grey and burnt sepia with chrome highlights and glass sculptures lit from the interior as room dividers. Tabletops, counters and the wc to be brown marble, chairs transparent smoked plastic, lighting sunken leds, fabrics grey moquette and most important of all, the bar area. It was to be circular, with beer served one side, spirits on the other, all manual action by bar staff visible to any seated customer. A unique feature was a low podium built near the exit on which was placed a genuine wooden National cash register from 1935, crafted of mahogany and featuring keys allowing the entry of sums up to $9.99, an amount far beyond the imagination of retailers when the machine was built. It was labelled GRATUITIES and intended to register tips, operated by someone who sported a hook or two. Tips would be entered and the operation registered by turning the handle on the side of the machine. The customer would be thanked and welcomed back and might even receive a handshake, hand to hook, to seal the deal – or more likely, to ensure a return. And that was the interior design taken care of.

 

The circular central bar area was fitted with overhead alcohol dispensers and the usual counter taps delivering beer. All the glasses were selected for their shape. They all had to be easily and securely grasped between the finger a of a prosthetic hook. Local artists delivered stunningly beautiful sculptures of glass and steel, all intended for sale to the clientele, lit enticingly by hidden leds. Food could be prepared in the small kitchen but the menu would be sparse, possibly limited to toasted sandwiches with a few different fillings.

 

Both Colin and Conrad got busy searching for bar staff who were missing an arm or two, who wanted to return to work but who had been denied the chance. Being close to two big towns, commuting ought not be a problem especially with the station being so close. Conrad asked Mica if he knew any other arm amps currently out of a job. Mica said he might well know a couple and took Conrad’s contact details. Colin put word out among his circle of ex-army guys. A couple of days later, responses started arriving. Within a week, five candidates had presented themselves, all hook users, three with prior bar experience and all of them available to start immediately. And all of them were under thirty.

 

Colin arranged interviews with them in Thirstysomething. Frederik Craig had a hook on his right arm and had been an amputee for three years, injured in a building site accident. Alex Hubbard had come off his motorbike and shattered his forearms beyond repair. He had worn two hooks for five years. Lee Daniels was another double amputee but had his right elbow only. Marc Bryan was missing his left arm near the shoulder and sported a grypher, the result of childhood bone cancer. He had a hook attachment too for his prosthesis. Trenton Carder sported a hook on his right arm, having lost his hand to a circular saw six months ago. Trenton had been a bar tender at the airport, spoke four languages adequately and had a good repertoire of cocktails and knowledge of wines. Colin was a little suspicious about Trenton’s circular saw story but did not press for further information. He explained to all of his candidates that Thirstysomething was intended as a gay bar and no-one had any objection. He chose Hubbard, Daniels and Carder as full-time employees and the other two would work Friday to Sunday. On Mondays, Thirstysomething would be closed.

 

A P R I L

 

It was time to decide on opening day. The company registration had left it open so there was no predetermined date. Thirstysomething had been redecorated, the loos updated, the kitchen refurbished, furniture acquired, the bar built and fully equipped, loudspeakers and a music system installed, glassware bought, washed and polished and the rear storeroom had a goodly supply of beer in kegs and alcohol. Conrad looked at the beer kegs with some distaste, understandably.

 

The alcoholic graphic artist excelled himself by designing a poster announcing the arrival of a new bar Thirstysomething, open Tuesday to Friday 5 p.m. to midnight and Saturday and Sunday noon to 2 a.m. Right by the station! Everyone welcome! Gay-friendly! Check it out! Drop in after work! A few digital prints were run off and posted with permission at three of the local stations and on announcement boards in various supermarkets. No mention was made of the unusual qualities of the staff. Both Colin and Conrad were pretty certain that after a couple of days, there would be enough surprise and free advertising generated by word of mouth that more expenditure was unnecessary. The bar announced itself to passers-by with a four meter wide neon sign bearing the name and logo. Simple white letters, attractive in their tasteful understatement.

            – Saturday April the fifteenth, a date which will live in infamy. Thirstysomething’s opening day. We’ll have half price beer that weekend, normal price alcohol otherwise. You and me, Trenton and Fred can man the pumps and Lee can come in at six. I want him on the till and he can take peoples’ coats or what have you. How does that sound?

            – Fine with me, mate. I would like to have Trenton behind the bar at all times to start with. You’re going to be on the door, right? I don’t expect any trouble on the first weekend, before we start to emphasize the gay side of things.

             –No, neither do I. Lee can more or less take the door in the evening. I want to be free to chat with people who might have questions, if you get my drift. OK, that’s settled. We’re ready. How do you feel?

            – Excited and apprehensive. I really hope this is going to work for us after the work we’ve already put in, not to mention the expense.

            – I don’t think you need to worry. We have a unique selling point to generate new business for us for months ahead by which time we should have a regular clientele we can rely on.

            – Don’t you think some people will be put off by seeing a bunch of amputees serving up their drinks?

            – Oh sure. But it doesn’t matter because they’ll still be telling all and sundry what a creepy place we have and that’s as good an advert as if they’d fallen in love with us.

            – Haha! I guess so.

 

In the intervening days, Colin ordered a dozen XL t-shirts with the logo on the front as a uniform. T-shirts would put the guys’ prosthetic arms nicely on display. He also ordered an XXXL for himself. He bought an A-frame cheaply from a florist which was closing down, which would be useful for announcing this and that on the street. He found a large brass bell in a boot sale and arranged to have it hanging above the magnificent old National. When a departing customer left a tip, the bell would be struck by the doorman’s hook, the sum poked into the machine and registered by rotating the handle and opening the cash drawer. A red barrier rose in the price indicator and dropped to reveal the tip in art deco style numbers. It was a fascinating and lovely piece of machinery. The bell was also intended to send out an alert to bar staff if any obvious troublemakers entered. The signal was three quick strikes and the bar staff had an alarm button under the bar counter linked to a security company’s patrol cars. Any unpleasantness could be stopped within minutes.

 

Conrad visited rehab again. Jesse had prepared the session to be about how to shave, how to shower, how to handle buttons and buckles and laces one-handed but Conrad cut him short.

            – I’ve already been doing all that for weeks, Jess. Can’t do buckles, laces I just tuck into my trainers like the cool kids and buttons are beyond me. Also I can’t tie a tie. But those things can wait. I’m going to be a bar tender again and I want you to give me some tips about what to do handling bottles and glasses and that sort of thing, not that I haven’t already been practising all that at home anyway.

            – Well, the buttons and ribbons lecture can wait, then. I’ll give you the lowdown on what I know about handling crockery and glassware, which is really session number four.

Jesse grinned at Conrad, as they conspired to thwart the system and do what Conrad thought useful.

            – Well, first of all you always have to remember to position whatever it is in such a way that you can grab it with your hook. You can use your hand to flip it round the other way if necessary, like if you pick up a glass with your hook which is upside down. If you need to use a tool, try to hold the object in your hook and the tool in your hand.

            – Like a bottle of beer in my hook and a bottle opener in my hand.

            – Exactly that. You may find that drink cans are difficult to open with a hook, assuming you can squeeze a finger into the ring in the first place. But you have to be careful how you grab a can with your hook too, because it has some sharp corners near the wrist and cans are very thin. They’re very easy to pierce accidentally. So pick up a can with your hand, transfer it to your hook and pull the tab off with your fingers.

            – Yeah, I’ve already split a can of Coke trying to get it out the fridge. Makes quite a mess spraying everywhere, I haven’t told you yet, but I’m going back to work for myself in a couple of weeks. Me and a mate are opening a new bar near the station and I’ll be returning to being a bar tender. That’s why I wanted some tips.

            – Oh well, congratulations! I’ll have to drop in to see how you’re getting on. I’m sure you’ll feel like you’ve been thrown in at the deep end, serving customers as a disabled man. What are they going to think of a bar tender with a hook? Ha, you’ll be unique in the world. Certainly in this country.

            – You think so? Really? Unique?

            – Certainly. I’ve never heard of a one-handed bar tender. I would assume the dexterity needed in bar tending would preclude employers from taking a one-armed person on.

            – Well, it may surprise you to learn that there will be two amputee owners and five amputee employees. We know we can make a success of it and it’ll be a dig at our former employers who kicked us out.

            – You can’t be serious? Where on earth have you found one-handed bar tenders?

            – Oh, we have our methods.

 

Colin called everyone for a meeting in Thirstysomething on Sunday the tenth. Full of enthusiasm, the five arm amputee employees and Conrad answered the call and they all toured the premises, Colin explaining delivery schedules, kitchen hygiene, the security system and the bell code, the rota system and finally a policy he had decided on.

            – We are open to all comers. I want Thirstysomething to become a gay bar but we have to take it easy and steer away from offending people, especially at the start. So ladies are welcome, heterocouples are welcome and everyone gets the same courtesy and good service, OK? Is that understood? Mondays are your day off, always, and you’ll have another day off during the week which will vary – well done if it’s a Tuesday! Weekends we all work because it’s a long day from midday to two in the morning, so there will be shifts, from noon to seven and from seven to two.

 

We’re cashless, cards only, so you don’t have to bother about handling cash. Just offer the customers the card machine and that’s it. And lastly, I fully intend to make this a place where no prejudice against disability is allowed. You don’t have to listen to that kind of thing so you have my full permission to ask anyone who seems to be goading you or poking fun or indulging in any other kind of insulting behaviour to drink up and leave. This is our place, the guys with the hooks, and we don’t take crap from anyone. Any questions?

            – How early before our shifts start would you like us here? I can be here about five minutes past every hour because of the train timetables.

            – Right, don’t worry about it. Five past is OK in your case. You won’t have to turn up almost an hour beforehand. But everyone else, give yourself time to get prepared and put on one of these attractive navy blue T-shirts printed with our logo which is the only uniform we have so far.

Colin reached down and threw five of them wrapped in cellophane onto the table. The stylish logo, the numeral three followed by the outline of a beer glass to represent a zero, was emblazoned onto the front and back of the shirts. Colin wanted the guy’s prosthetic arms on display at all times.

            – You’ll have to doff your prosthetics in any case because I want everyone to put their harnesses on over these T-shirts. All of your prosthetics should always be on display. You might have guessed that’s our central selling point and main attraction – you and the way you handle yourselves as cruelly disabled young men condemned to working in a really great bar. Anyway, as for the rest of what you wear, jeans or shorts or cargo pants are fine. Bear in mind that whatever you wear is going to get covered in beer and crap so you might like to have a separate pair to change into to keep here. And bear in mind too how long dressing takes for us.

 

If Colin had had a stump, he would have waved it. Arrangements explained and understood by all, the evening continued with each of the young amputees testing how well they could use the beer dispensers by serving the other six with top notch lager. All of which was consumed as former strangers became colleagues and mates long into the night.

 

Opening Day Saturday Fifteenth 12:00, read the chalked message on the A-frame outside Thirstysomething. Happy Hour All Weekend Beer -50%

 

Colin stood by the door and looked back at Fred, Alex, Lee, Marc and Trenton behind the sparkling clean bar and pristine furniture and gave them all a thumb-up. Armless Lee was close by, seated behind the podium, ready to take customers’ coats and jackets and bags between his hooks. Conrad trembled with anticipation in front of the bar. Colin opened the door and the inauguration customers poured in. Four skinhead mates decked out in the town’s football club’s colours and glossy mahogany boots halfway up their legs were the very first customers. They looked askance at Colin as he let them in, not noticing his peculiarity. Straight to the bar, grabbing four adjacent stools.

            – Four lagers, mate!

            – Coming up!

Alex grabbed four glasses and fed them under the beer tap. At first, the skins paid him no attention but when Alex lifted the first glass onto the counter, the skin said Oh fuck! What is that?

The others glanced at him and then at Alex dispensing the next beer. Their mouths dropped open.

            – What the fuck happened to you, mate?

            – Shark attack, mate. You should have seen the other guy.

Satisfied with the silly explanation, the skins sat hunched over the counter watching in silence as Alex served the next customers, a hipster with a big beard and his lady friend with two lagers. They had not paid any attention to the bar tenders before occupying a couple of stools and almost fell off them as Fred hooked their drinks on to the counter, as recommended by Colin. Always use the hook in front of the customer, not your hand, he had advised. The woman let out a short scream.

            – Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, lied Fred.

            – I’m sorry, it was a surprise.

The woman looked around nervously.

            – Don’t worry about it! It’s only my hand, after all.

A big smile and he turned to his next customer who had already noticed something distinctly odd about the barmen.

            – What’s going on here? Are you all disabled? What the actual fuck?

            – Yup, we’re all disabled. Can I disable you a beer, or what else would you like, mate?

            – A beer, please.

The customer watched with fascination as Alex grasped a glass with his left hook and pressed the start button with the right. He swung around to the customer and positioned the beer in front of him and let his hook snap shut.

            – Well fuck me! I’ve never seen anything like that before. You’re really something special, you know that? I’ve been around the world more than once and I’ve never seen a barmen with a hook. And look at you lot! Jesus holy Moses.

 

So it continued throughout the afternoon. The skinheads left after drinking far too much to enjoy their football match but they felt like they had got their money’s worth. The lady who had screamed texted five of her friends later, writing You’ll never guess what happened at lunchtime! Customers texted their friends to come and see this you won’t believe it smiley face.

 

Later in the evening, things quietened down a little. There were fewer potential customers going to and from the station, perhaps, or people were waiting for the rowdy Happy Weekend rush to be over before venturing in. But Thirstysomething was always almost full of seated customers. Only the standing customers who congregated around the bar diminished in number during the first evening. Conversations between customers and staff were natural, but in Thirstysomething questions reached a peak of delicacy as inquisitive customers purveyed the handsome young bar staff and presented their questions and expressed their amazement. Many times a customer expressed admiration and was rewarded with a hook/handshake.

 

Lee had been kept busy all day, greeting customers carrying heavy shopping or wearing bulky outer clothes and offering to take them for safekeeping. Many people gave them over gladly and none were less than shocked to see Lee’s prosthetic arms. He gave each customer a numbered tag and wished them A Nice Stay. As customers left, Lee’s presence was prominent behind his enormous cash register. People thanked him for an enjoyable time and tipped one or two coins. Lee thanked the customer, hit the bell overhead, punched in the appropriate sum on the National with the tips of his left hook and grabbed the handle with his right, rotated it with panache and opening the drawer with a hearty ching. Nothing like it had been seen or heard in everyday life for half a century and the cash register engendered much admiration, as did Lee’s glistening black carbon prosthetic arms.

 

Colin and Conrad were extremely pleased with the opening but anticipated problems in the near future as word got out. There would probably be more cases of You have to see this than Don’t go there for heaven’s sake. Strange people would turn up. It was a phase they would have to go through. As the small hours of Sunday morning approached, Colin summoned taxis for his staff and bid them good night.

 

At eleven thirty next morning he was back at Thirstysomething with Conrad, both of them having slept more deeply than for years. They checked the place over, making sure the cleaning staff had done their job properly earlier in the morning. The kitchen was spotless, chairs neatly arranged around the circular marble tables and the air smelt fresh.

 

Conrad lifted the A-frame back out onto the street – Opening Special! -50% Beer!  It was drizzling. A few minutes before the hour, people began queuing outside and out of pity, the guys decided to let the customers in, although no drinks could be served until noon. This crowd looked wealthier, more expensively dressed than yesterday’s customers. As the digital time on everyone’s phones blinked to 12:00, the first arrivals called from their seats for their preferred drinks. Colin strolled over and explained that it was a help yourself system. The handicapped bar staff could not be expected to act as servers. A couple of women with bouffant hair snorted and then noticed Colin’s amputation.

            – How are you working as a bouncer? You only have one arm!

            – Madam, I am the owner. I have created all this with only one arm.

            – Well, how extraordinary. Hilda dear, what would you like to drink? I shall have to order at the counter.

            – Oh just a gin and tonic, dear.

The busty woman extracted herself from her seat and approached the bar where Trenton stood watching her. With his experience of women of a certain age, he already had his hook on the gin bottle.

            – Two gin and tonics please, dear.

Trenton swiftly poured two doses of gin into short tumblers and opened a bottle of Schweppes with his hook. The slack-jawed woman watched him in astonishment.

            – That’s seven twenty please, ma’am.

She proffered a twenty.

            – Electronic only, I’m afraid ma’am. Do you have a Mastercard, for example?

            – No, I certainly do not. There is nothing wrong with the money of the realm.

            – No, of course not, except we cannot give you change. I will keep this twenty for the time being and you have twelve eighty in reserve.

            – Extraordinary! Don’t expect your disability to count for any favours, young man.

 

On the other side of the bar, Alex was having a better time. Two twenty-something gays, rather quasi-butch with the five o’clock shadow fashionable three decades ago and slightly muscle-bound, had dropped in enticed by the price of beer. Alex raised his hooks in welcome and asked what’ll it be? The more effeminate of the two said Two lagers and recoiled with pursed lips at the sight of Alex’s arms.

            –Oo, how horrid!

            – Think what it feels like to have hooks!

            – I know!

They watched in horrified fascination as Alex poured their drinks and gently placed them on the counter. One got stuck in to his beer immediately but the other asked how Alex had lost his hands. Alex repeated the story about shark attack which everyone had agreed to jokingly relate whenever the question was asked. It was a private matter and tedious to repeat many times a day to overly inquisitive customers.

            – Ha! I don’t believe you.

He leaned forward and whispered between cupped hands.

            – I’m only asking because I’ve always really wanted a hook. How did you get yours? How can I get one?

            – I really don’t want to go through the trauma again with you, I’m sorry. You know there are websites which discuss things like this, don’t you? Why don’t you ask about it on there?

            – They’re full of wannabes and pretenders. I want some genuine information. I’m quite serious. My man here doesn’t approve and if he leaves me afterwards, it won’t be the end of my world.

            – Well, look. One of my colleagues may know more about the sort of thing you are talking about. Give me your number and I’ll explain what you’ve told me. If he contacts you, all well and good but I’m not promising anything, you understand? Enjoy your drink!

            – Thanks, you’re very sweet.

 

Service continued through lunchtime and into the afternoon. Several visitors mentioned they had been alerted by friends who had visited the previous day. The word was out. At three, a rotund fiftyish gentleman who looked like he knew his way around a crate of beer entered and dumped  a briefcase and his grimy trenchcoat with Lee.

            – Is the owner in, son?

            – Yes, he’s right behind you!

Colin had deserted his post for a minute or two to fetch a mug of coffee from the kitchen. He had heard the question.

            – Hello. I’m the owner, one of them anyway. What can I do for you?

The newcomer revolved his bulk to face Colin and immediately noticed the empty sleeve of Colin’s t-shirt.

            Good afternoon, squire. I’m Colin Allan from The Gazette & Advertiser and I wonder if you have a few moments to spare. We’d like to run an article about this place, er, Thirtysomething.

            – Thirstysomething, actually. That makes two of us. I’m Colin too, Colin Colby. And talking about thirsty, I suspect you’d like a drink, wouldn’t you? Alex, pour this gentleman a beer! Let’s go and sit down in the far corner. It’s turning into my impromptu office.

They walked over, Allan negotiated his bulk through the seating with the incongruous delicacy some large men have.

            – Ah that feels better to get the weight off my feet.

            – And here’s your beer.

Allan recoiled slightly from the sight of Alex’s glossy black prosthesis holding his beer.

            – Ah, well, I heard about this place opening yesterday and a few details about it which, quite frankly, I did not believe. But I find myself having to re-evaluate my doubts. Well, to cut to the chase, I’d like to put a piece in next week’s Gazette about er, Thirstysomething and what it has to offer. It’s always nice to have a new place opening up in town. People should know about it, what to expect, that kind of thing.

            – Well, of course it is. How do you want to do this? I think it’s probably better if you ask the questions and I answer them. It’ll be quicker and easier than if I tell you the whole saga and you have to sort it all out.

            – Exactly. So, let’s get to it. Nice beer, this, by the way. How did you get the idea of starting a bar with disabled staff?

            – Well, none of us feel ourselves to be disabled. I have only one arm after I left the other one in Afghanistan but I don’t feel unable to do practically anything. Some of the bar staff have one amputation, some have two, but they all use their artificial arms skilfully and are more than capable of doing this kind of work. It’s just that able-bodied employers either don’t believe them or think that the sight of a hook is too much of shock for customers to bear. So my colleague – where is he? – and I decided to start this bar with only disabled young men as staff to show the world what we can do.

            – Well, it looks to me like you may have done it. Do you mind if I have a look around?

            – Not at all, I’ll show you around. This is our seating area for eighty. The marble table tops came originally from Italy and these Seventies style chairs match them nicely.

            – They’re comfortable to sit in, even for a fat bloke like me.

            – Don’t put yourself down, Colin. Here’s the bar, beers over there, cocktails and the like this side. Trenton here has a vast repertoire of cocktails. That’s Trenton C-A-R-D-E-R. And Alex handles the beer counter. You OK, Alex?

            – Sure!

            – Why don’t you pour Mr Allan another beer? You won’t mind, will you? Let’s go round there and you can watch the guys.

They sat on adjacent stools and Allan sank his beer. Colin spoke about his experiences in the army, being injured and what life had been like after returning home. Allan managed another two beers before announcing his departure.

            – Must be off. Thanks for the hospitality. It’s been very interesting. My piece should be in the Gazette next Friday, if you want to read it. Goodbye now.

He manoeuvred his way towards the door, collected his coat and bag, saluted Lee and received a black carbon salute back.

            – Who was that?

            – Ah Con, there you are. That was Mr Colin Allan from the Gazette and we’re having our first article published on Friday.

            – Good show. I hope he got a good impression.

            – I think he did. He knows where to get a free beer, anyway.

 

The afternoon turned to early evening as the light faded. Thirstysomething’s illuminated name was attention-grabbing. Two bearded men turned up, both dressed in full black leather. Lee knew better than to ask if they wanted to leave their jackets.

            – Evening, gentlemen, welcome. Good to see you. Self-service from the bar.

Lee swung a prosthesis in the general direction. Both leathermen stared at Lee and his glinting arms before moving onwards. Alex greeted them.

            – What’ll it be, sir? And you, sir?

Alex did not call normal citizens ‘sir’, everyone was equal these days but the leather guys noticed and appreciated it. Hearing their orders for two lagers, Alex grabbed a glass in each hook, moved to the tap and activated it. A few seconds later he raised two blond beers onto the counter top and rested his hooks beside them.

            – Eight fifty, please. Two beers for the price of one, all weekend. New in town, see? Special offer.

            – I’ll tell you what’s special, my friend. How come you and your mate have hooks? What’s the deal?

            – Couldn’t get a job otherwise so we started our own. Everyone who works here has at least one arm off.

            – Jeb, I’m getting a hard on. I cant stand it!

He squirmed to adjust his penis inside his leather trousers.

            – Tell me about it. Do me as well, just grab it and move it. Ah mate, this is unbelievable. Call Buck and Stig and tell them to get their arses over here!

 

Jeb and his mate watched Alex and Trenton serving other customers, both of them gyrating in pleasurable agony as their erections remained trapped within tight leather. Both of them found amputee men erotic and fantasized about limblessness to reach orgasm.    Finding three arm amps in a stylish new bar was unbelievable. Jeb gasped as Alex rotated a wrist by smacking his hooks together and ejaculated inside his leather.

            – Ah, I’ve just cum.

            – Leave it for me to clean up. I’m not far from it either.

Colin rose from his rear table where he had been looking at Saturday’s takings and strolled over to the bar. Disarticulation was Jeb’s mate’s most desirable amputation and the sight of Colin’s masculine stature and self-assurance in his tank top was the tipping point. He groaned and his penis throbbed its release for many seconds. Jeb looked at him and smirked.

 

Buck and Stig arrived in a taxi twenty minutes later. Buck swore as he saw the steps. He didn’t like steps. Dressed in full leather like Jeb and his mate, the newcomers negotiated their way down to the entrance and pushed their way inside. Lee saluted them with a grin and a hook, bid them welcome and pointed towards the bar.

            – I think your mates are waiting for you over there.

They spotted their leather mates and thrust their leg prostheses into action. Both were legless, thanks to IEDs in the Middle East.

            – Over here! You’ll never guess what’s going on here!

            – Amputee central, if the doorman’s anything to go by.

            – You don’t know the half of it! Everyone who works here is an amp.

            – Amp at your service, gents! What will you have?

            – Coupla beers please, mate. You been in the wars too?

            – Only with a motorbike.

            – Yeah, they can be nasty. You look like you’ve been doing that for a while.

            – Five years. I can hardly remember having my own arms. These work for most things. There you go, two beers. Eight fifty. Card only, sorry.

Alex grabbed the card reader, held it in both hooks in front of Stig and the transaction was done.

Colin wandered over.

            – Hi! I’m the owner. We just opened yesterday and we’re still finding our feet. I wonder if you’d mind looking at how we’re doing while you’re here and answering a few questions before you leave.

Colin was anxious to make sure that the leathermen felt comfortable, not out of place or especially unusual. It was Colin and Conrad’s primary intention to make Thirstysomething into a gay bar and input from homosexuals such as these leathermen would be useful.

            – Sure, fine with me. How about you lot?

They nodded their general agreement.

 

As the evening progressed, Jeb and his mates noticed that they had been attracting less intrusive attention than they usually did by turning up in gear, which they put down to the fact that for a change, the bar staff presented a more interesting vista. None of them were ashamed of their leather fetish but they appreciated the respite from stares. Colin returned to them after a couple of hours.

            –Having a good time? Everything OK?

            – Yeah, I can see myself coming in here again. It would be good if you had a leather night a couple of times a month, or whenever. Some regular day, though, so we don’t have to check it all the time. And, sorry if this sounds a bit strange, but some of us are into amputees but don’t like to make a big issue of it, so if there could be an amputee evening for devotees and wannabes and other weirdos, we’d like that. And guys like Stig and Buck might be able to find boyfriends at long last.

            – Shut your mouth!

Colin looked at Stig.

            – Me and Buck are sitting here with four fake legs. Is there anything you could do about those steps outside?

            – Well, not really, but I suppose we could rig up a doorbell at the top so that leg amps or wheelchairs could enter via the back door. It’s not very smart out there but handy enough for access. The door’s kept locked for obvious reasons but we could do that. Conrad, my partner, or someone, is always standing by. You can go out that way tonight, if you want. Give it a test. Of course, there’s a slope up to the street but it might be easier than steps. Difficult for me to say. I’ve only got an arm off not two legs.

            – Great!

Jeb ejaculated once more.

 

From The Gazette & Advertiser, April 22nd:

            It is not often that the opportunity arises to experience

        something quite unique, especially not on Station Road,

        but one such is provided by a heartily recommended visit

        to our town’s latest bar, Thirstysomething by trading name.

        Owned by ex-army sergeant Colin Colby and his associate

        Conrad Alton, Thirstysomething intends to serve beers and

        cocktails to the visitor willing to accept self-service in return for

        an intriguing acquaintance with a retro-styled environment enhanced

        with locally crafted artworks hewn from glass.

        Thirstysomething’s unique quality is the fact that both the owners

        and their staff have suffered amputations. Service was good-natured

        and efficient for your correspondent last weekend.

        Initially somewhat shocking to see staff attending

        their business sporting artificial arms, it became apparent

        that these young men are not handicapped as far as

        providing customers everything one may expect from

        such an establishment.

        Thirstysomething is open from 5 p.m. to midnight on weekdays

        (except Monday) and from noon to 2 a.m. on weekends.

        Details about special evenings for Ladies and Senior Citizens,

        as well as the LGBT community, are posted at www.3S0.org

 

 

M A Y

 

            – We’ve got two weeks behind us, Con, and I’ve been going over the figures. Take a look. Our turnover is here and our debit including rent and wages is here. So there’s this much to pay ourselves for two week’s slog.

Con looked morosely at the four hundred and fifty to be divided between the two of them.

            – At least it’s not a loss. Don’t forget the first weekend with half price beer. And we’re still picking up as more people hear about us. We already have a regular bunch of people who nip in for a beer on their way from the station.

            – Yeah, you’re right but I was thinking about what else we could do to attract the sort of guys we want.

            – Well, happy hour is going well, from five to six thirty we sell about forty percent of the day’s beer. Four forty instead of six sixty seems to be going down well.

            – True. I’ve been thinking more about having special evenings. I mean like everyone is welcome from five until, say, nine, and then we start to specialise. This is what I’ve thought and you have to tell me if there’s anything you’re uncomfortable with.

            – OK. Fire away.

            – Mondays closed. Tuesdays from nine until closing is ladies’ night. All the dykes in here! And they don’t drink beer! Wednesdays from nine onwards is Leather Night – not exclusively but so they know they’re welcome. And Thursdays is either Rubber Night or Devotee Night. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.

            – I don’t think either option has enough interest locally to support us for five evening hours. Why not combine it into a Rubber-Dev Night. Fridays and the weekends are more or less for normals, right? I mean, every day is vanilla until nine. Right?

            –Yeah. We could turn the place into a retro disco on Saturdays with old Eurovision songs, for example, and Sunday evenings for senior citizens with cheaper drinks and chintzy music after nine. They could do their dances if we clear away a few tables. They like to dance, the oldies.

            – Sounds OK to me. Let’s try that, but how are you going to advertise it?

            – We’ll get Whatshisname to do a few posters again. And have a postcard sized promo on every table. Should be enough. We ought to get a website done too. Needn’t be anything too glitzy, just a space with opening times and info.

            – Agreed!

 

Two weeks later, the Special Evening sessions began. The bar was attracting more commuters after work who dropped in for a beer or two and faces were becoming familiar. The first Ladies’ Night was successful enough for the first night with a couple of dozen young and more mature women arriving before ten o’clock. Colin reduced the price of a G&T, promoted it as The Lady’s Special on the tables and shifted a goodly amount of gin during the evening. The ladies were relaxed and civil towards Trenton and Alex. Lee wished everyone a good night and welcome back next Tuesday as appreciative gratuities accumulated in his cash register.

 

The next evening, Jeb and his mate turned up just before nine, resplendent in leather motorcycle jackets and trousers, with glossy engineer’s boots and chrome-rimmed office’s caps on their shaven heads. They sat at the counter again, watching to see who else might turn up. A blue warning light flashed into action by Lee’s podium. Conrad saw it and went to open the back door. He went out into the yard and started towards the front of the building to meet the disabled newcomers and ran into them negotiating their way down the slope.

            – Hi! Good to see you again.

Stig and Buck were leathered up and wearing knee-length shorts, exposing four artificial legs.

            – We thought we might flash a bit of prosthetic glamour. Can’t have you lot grabbing all the attention, mate. That doorbell on the railing is a good idea. I’m impressed you got it fitted so soon.

            – It looks like a doorbell but it sets off a light. Nice to see it works, anyway.

The three of them entered Thirstysomething and walked through to the saloon. Three other leather guys had turned up so the seven of them made an impressive and slightly intimidating scene round the counter. Alex was kept busy for a few minutes getting beers. The blue light revolved once more and Lee went to the front door to see who needed assistance. A short leatherman called down and Lee asked him to go around to the rear of the building. Conrad went to meet the guy again and saw a heavily salt-and-pepper bearded leatherman in jacket cap and shorts thumping his way forward on two cylindrical glossy black stubbies.

            – Good evening, sir! Welcome.

            –Evening! I’m Stubber. I heard you’ve got a Leather Night here. Is that right? Makes a change to have it in the middle of the week. There’s nothing on anywhere else for guys to meet up. I see you’re an amp too.

            – All our staff are hook-wearers.

            – Is that so? Good show!

Stubber heaved himself into the bar’s kitchen and Conrad directed him towards the counter, which was only slightly lower than Stubber’s eyes.

            – Stubbers, you old bastard! Good to see you, man.

            – Likewise – and look at you two decked out on proper legs. I bet you feel tall in those. Can you walk in them OK?

            – I can manage for a few hours. How about you?

            – You know what I think about fake legs. I’ll stick with these stubbies. It’s my identity and I like the attention.

            – At your age, you need it!

            – Ha! I’m gonna sit down over there. I can’t climb onto one of these stools.

            – We’ll be over in a bit.

 

A few more leathermen had arrived and seeing the counter occupied, staked a claim on the seating under the window from where they could keep an eye on the rest of the clientele. Stubber rocked over and heaved himself up onto on of the chairs at an adjacent table. The others soon joined him, Stig and Buck lurching over last of all with fresh beers, and manoeuvring their prosthetic legs into the high-backed acrylic chairs. Acknowledgments were made in greeting between the groups, tables were pushed together and before long, almost the entire saloon was a sea of bearded and moustachioed faces floating over black leather.

 

Conrad and Colin looked over their customers and caught each other’s eye. Colin nodded.

            – This is easily going to be our best evening so far. Not only are we about eighty percent full but they’re a thirsty lot and they can afford more than beer. If we can keep this up, we’re laughing.

 

Trenton was kept busy with a growing demand for masculine-sounding cocktails such as Diki-Diki, Incredible Hulk, Corpse Reviver and Suffering Bastard. He was amused by how one young leather guy seemed to be the fetcher for the others and how he followed every movement of his hook.

            – You really know how to rock that hook, man. You make it look like it’s part of you.

            – Practice makes perfect. In one way, it really is part of me. It’s my hand. It just looks a bit different.

            – It looks fantastic.

Trenton studied his customer’s admiring face, knowing exactly what was going through his mind.

            – You’d like a hook yourself, is my guess.

            – Ah, yeah, I wouldn’t mind.

            – It would look pretty cool sticking out of your leather jacket.

 

A tall, bald customer standing nearby waiting to catch Alex’s eye had overheard the exchange and glanced at the leatherman. Yes, he thought, a genuine wannabe. He watched him return to his seat carrying two concoctions for his senior table mates. He would have a little word later.

 

Lee had found an admirer. One of the leather guys leant against Lee’s podium with a beer asking intrusive questions about Lee’s amputations and prosthetics. Lee listened patiently – he’d related the same story many times before. Two seven-year-old friends experimenting with fireworks in a garden shed, resulting in blindness for Lee’s friend and permanent physical disablement for Lee.

            – That was twenty years ago, so I hardly remember having my own hands.

            – You’re fantastic with them. Well, see you later.

He wandered back into the saloon and sat down with the fetcher.

            – He lost his hands when he was only seven. Imagine growing up having hooks.

            – I wish it had been me.

            – Me too. I wish there was an easy way to get some.

            – Hey! Get us a couple of beers, will you? Here, use this card.

            – Yes sir.

The fetcher rose again and walked to the counter. The customer to his right leaned over and murmured to him.

            – Did I overhear you earlier saying you’d like to have hooks?

            – Maybe. What’s is got to do with you?

            – I may be able to help you.

            – How?

            – Let’s not discuss it now. Can you meet me here on Tuesday at five thirty? I’ll wait until six. Then I can explain when we can have a little privacy.

            – Let me think about it. Tuesday, you say?

The man nodded and withdrew. The fetcher turned and ordered two lagers from Trenton, watching his hook glinting as it caught the light.

 

            – That old guy over there heard me saying to the barman that I’d like a hook. He said he could help me get one. What do you think of that? I’m supposed to meet him here next week and he’ll tell me more.

            – Sounds a bit peculiar to me. I wonder what he wants? Are you gonna come and see him next week?

            – Don’t know yet. I might.

 

The leathermen’s Wednesday evening was a huge financial success. Colin and Conrad hoped the customers would make it a regular outing. It was true enough that there was no other suitable venue open midweek to wear leathers.

            – I was thinking that maybe we could have another leather night on Sundays instead of an Oldies night. I’m pretty certain these guys have other places to hang out on Saturdays but there might be enough interest to make it worthwhile having a Leather Sunday. We could make Saturdays into Eurovision in the afternoon and Oldies in the evening.

            – Actually, I’m having second thoughts about the whole music thing. I like us not having music playing all the time. No-one has asked us for music, have they?

            – No but we won’t know until we give it a try.

 

Thursday was the turn for the first Rubber/Devotee Special. Colin warned the staff to be aware that they would be under closer scrutiny than usual from certain customers. In fact, they would be the evening’s raison d’être for a lot of them. As six o’clock approached the first rubberguys arrived in normal civvies and asked Lee if there was a place where they could strip them off. Lee called Colin over, who suggested rigging up a curtain or something at the far end of the bar. Not having any curtains immediately available, two of the rubber guys managed to hang a tarpaulin from the sprinkler system to protect their modesty. Lee started issuing the new instruction to newcomers Change there behind that curtain and bring your gear back to me for safekeeping. Lee was going to strike it rich later on with all the tips, although the money was shared by all five staff members equally.

            

Devotees did not announce their arrival, however. One or two arrivals appeared to be leg amputees, one of whom dropped his pants by the entrance and handed them to Lee. He stood in cut-offs, an above-knee prosthesis replacing his right leg. Lee said High five! and the two clapped hand to hook.

 

The evening went well enough although there were not half as many customers as the previous evening. The rubber crowd preferred beer to stiff drinks although shots became popular towards midnight. But they were a good natured lot. Any devotees present behaved respectfully and the staff didn’t feel themselves to be the centre of attraction any more than at any other time.

 

Friday night was for normals, as Colin called them. The previous week’s newspaper article had done its job and customers began crowding in soon after five for after-work beers. They were a lively bunch, workmates together letting off steam. Alex and Trenton had their hand and hooks full so Conrad helped out. He wasn’t quite as dextrous as the other two yet, understandably, but the three of them managed not to keep anyone waiting and received compliments on the way they handled their hooks. Colin switched on the music system and streamed one of his personal mixes. The additional sound encouraged the crowd to raise the volume and Thirstysomething had a real party atmosphere for the first time.

 

On Saturdays and Sundays, the bar opened at midday. Trenton and Alex had the day off, so Frederik and Marc were behind the counter. It was Marc’s first shift. He was wearing his grypher which attracted interested attention from the other hook-wearers. Marc said he wasn’t sure how effective it would be handling glassware because its grip was spread over a larger area so he had brought his bionic hook with him just in case. Saturday’s first customers were a few faces familiar from the previous evening dropping in for a hair of the dog and Saturday shoppers curious to see the bar run by amputees which they’d heard about. The blue light began flashing in Lee’s post which Colin noticed. He went out the back to see who might need some assistance and found Stubber swaying towards him on his stubbies, accompanied by another bearded bald man dressed in black leather, strolling with the tell-tale limp of an amputee.

            – This is my hubby Sam. I told him about the other night and he wanted to come and see for himself so here we are.

            – You’re very welcome any time. In fact, we’re having another Leather Night tomorrow but starting at six since Wednesday was so popular.

            They entered and moved into the saloon.

            – Sam, get us a couple of beers or whatever you want. I’ll be over there. Colin, have you advertised tomorrow night anywhere?

            – Not really, although we have managed to update the calendar on the website.

            – I can let a few ringleaders know and they’ll get word out in their circles.

            – That would be very good of you, thank you very much.

            – Don’t mention it. Everyone I’ve spoken to said how they had a good time here and us cripples need to stick together, wouldn’t you say?

            – Ha! I guess so. I’ll be over there in my corner. I might as well call it home, I reckon.

 

Stubber eased his rigid stumps into a chair and got out his phone to send a short email to half a dozen friends announcing Sunday’s unexpected Leather Night. He was finished when Sam rejoined him with a tall glass of lager.

            – Do you want to come here tomorrow?

            – Have to see, won’t I? You haven’t made any other arrangements, have you? No-one’s supposed to be coming over, are they? But whatever we decide, I don’t want to come here at six o’clock.

            – No, no. Between nine and ten, I’d say.

            – That’s more like it.

            – It’s just that I’ve just emailed the upper echelon and they might wonder why we’re not here when I was the one who suggested it.

            – Oh, I see. Yeah, it would look a bit odd. They might think you’re round burgling their houses or something.

            – You are a fool. How’s your stump? Still sore?

            – It’s alright, not so bad. How are yours?

            – Never better.

            – Show-off!

 

The place quietened as the afternoon progressed and everyone could take twenty minutes to grab something to eat. The pace picked up again towards evening with young people grabbing the first beers of the evening. Some expressed mild shock at being confronted with so many arm amputees but the guys’ nonchalance and easy smiles soon reassured customers and they continued their visit in more comfort. Colin streamed some of his music again at a sensible volume and Thirstysomething continued to do good trade throughout the evening and into the small hours.

 

Sunday noon was opening time. A small crowd of football fans stood outside, jostling and joking with each other. Colin unlocked the door and welcomed them inside. The counter was soon heaving and business was brisk. They shoved tables together and rearranged the seating, but Colin suspected they had another destination before long so he wasn’t worried about the lads getting too rowdy yet. After a couple or three beers and the odd shot of tequila, the group made its way back to the street and Colin let out a sigh of relief.

            – I always feel nervous when a group of football fans turn up. I remember the sort of thing I used to get up to ten years ago, that’s what worries me.

They placed the furniture back as it had been and mopped the floor clean of spillages and sticky footprints.

 

Sunday continued quietly with a few normals appearing around three for a couple of pints, relaxing in the saloon, chatting and generally having a convivial time. The first leathermen arrived just before seven and occupied adjacent stools at the counter.

            – Good evening, sirs. What would you like?

            – A bit of stump action, mate!

            Trenton raised his eyebrows and looked at the leather guy’s stubbled face under his officer’s cap. It was the first time a customer had made a sexually suggestive comment about his stump. He stretched out his hook almost into the guy’s face where it opened menacingly.

            – You’ll have to make do with this for the time being. Beer?

The guy grinned and nodded. He was pretty sure the barman got his drift. Maybe there could be some action later, who could tell?

 

Trenton pulled the beers and considered his amputation, the result of a deliberately arranged severance intended to look like an accident. It was indeed a circular saw which first destroyed his hand to prevent reattachment leaving just enough forearm for a surgeon to sculpt into the kind of stump he had fantasized about since he was a young teenager. The saw had been tampered with and all its many safety features made inoperative. Trenton and his boyfriend both loved the stump which Trenton wielded as a phallus during their sex games, so he was well aware of the intent behind the brash comment. He suddenly remembered the customer who had been jealous of Alex on the first day and left a number for Trenton to call. He decided to send a text message and invite the kid in again. Alone, for a tête-à-tête. Trenton was in the mood to create another amputee.

 

More leathermen appeared, some familiar from the previous week, many for the first time, intrigued by hearing about a bar manned by amputees. Several of them privately appreciated the erotic nature of the black carbon sockets, glinting handsomely under the lights, reminiscent of the sheen of the black leather they worshipped. As always, one or two yearned for their own stumps, prostheses and steel hooks as the ultimate symbols of hardness and tragically maimed masculine beauty.

 

Another familiar customer turned up mid-evening, the quiet gentleman who had seemed to be waiting for someone, an acquaintance perhaps. He sat alone at the end of the counter, apart from the hubbub but watching and listening carefully. His name was Oswald Ewing, although he used the pseudonym Vaughn Weiss in his work, which was to collect the contact details of young amputee wannabes. He had long realised the affinity between homosexual fetishism and a fixation on amputation. Thirstysomething was ideally suitable for his purposes. He studied the men’s faces and their reactions to seeing disabled bar tenders working and made a mental note of them. It was his intention to strike up a brief conversation with each individual when there was less risk of being overheard.

 

An opportunity arose as one group were preparing to leave. One of his marks stood almost next to Ewing waiting for his mates. Ewing leaned towards him.

            – These guys with the hooks are really something.

            – Yeah, it’s great to see the way they use them. It looks so manly.

            – It does. I’ve always wanted hooks myself but something always holds me back.

            – Same here. I might actually do it but the cost is beyond my means, at least for the time being.

            – I know a way, inexpensive, to have your amputation done here, in this country. There’s no time to go through it now but if you’re interested, you can come back on Tuesday at half past six, and I’ll explain more. Think about it!

            – I will. I’ll see you then, maybe.

The group departed, handing a tenner to Lee. Stubber and Sam were the next to leave, saying they needed their beauty sleep. The truth was Sam had become so aroused that both of them were dying for a romp in bed. Conrad let them exit the back door and wished them good night. Ewing also left, leaving a generous tip and another week finally ended.

 

Conrad and Colin were back at eleven on Monday for a spot of inventory, reordering and checking the accounts. Business was improving. Leather nights were a huge success economically and the rubber guys hadn’t held back either. Colin and Conrad were each able to take two and a half thousand for a fortnight’s wages. Conrad suggested they continue the happy hour prices on one particular drink for Ladies’ Night. They could scour the warehouses for a good deal on gin or rum and get Trenton to create a different special cocktail each week. There should be a good return on that. Colin thought it was worth a try and would talk to Trenton.

 

Tuesday started with a few Happy Hour regulars who dropped in on their way home. The subject of hooks having been exhausted, the banter between the customers and the bar tenders became more typical. It was a fun way to start the evening which the staff enjoyed.

 

Ewing arrived just after five, like any frazzled commuter needing a drink. He ordered a beer and took it to a corner table from where he could see his interviewees arrive, if they did. Three young men would learn how they, too, could acquire a stump for little financial pain. It was an outwardly simple process. A payment of two thousand five hundred would lead to an invitation to a private boarding house on the coast which offered surgery and accommodation during recovery. The fresh amputee would leave after ten days with a hook on a unique one-size-fits-all socket, adjustable as his stump shrank. It was not the most robust of prostheses but would suffice for a few months. For a frustrated young wannabe without much ready cash, it was an enticing offer.

 

The truth was more sinister. The establishment was owned and run by a commission created by several Middle Eastern and Gulf countries who wished to train young surgeons in the art of amputation, which was increasingly in favour as the punishment for such transgressions as blasphemy, rather than the traditional decapitation. Willing volunteers for amputation were required at regular short notice, and as no sin or moral objection was associated with maiming infidels, the Western wannabe community was especially targeted. Scouts such as Ewing arranged the supply of subjects. They were paid ten thousand per head. At least five wannabes should be available before fresh students arrived.

 

Ewing’s first prospect arrived at five thirty. He spotted Ewing in the corner and approached.

            – Ah, thank you for coming. Do sit down. Would you like something to drink? A beer? I’m buying. Wait a moment.

He returned with a tall glass of lager.

            – Let us be very frank with each other. My name is Vaughn Weiss and I can offer you your amputation or, indeed, amputations at a very low cost, two thousand five hundred. There are certain conditions to which you must agree, the first being absolute confidentiality. The second is that although every effort will be made to create the stump you want, no guarantees are made nor compensation given should you be dissatisfied with the stump – which will be surgically perfect regardless of its final length and shape. You will be provided with a basic hook prosthesis on your departure fourteen days after your arrival, after which there will be no future contact or communication between the two parties of any kind. Do you understand? Do you have any questions?

            – How come it’s so cheap?

            – That is not your business to know. Be content to know that it is.

            – Where does the amputation take place? How do I get there?

            – That is also secret. The day before your amputation you will be notified by text message to arrive at a nearby location and a minibus will transport you to the amenity. You will return in the same manner.

            – So how soon will it be?

            – I don’t know for certain but I estimate that you will be sporting a hook at the end of next month. So, in the next few days, roughly speaking. You realise, I hope, that you will suddenly disappear, to all intents and purposes, until the process is complete. If your absence will cause distress to friends and family, you should warn them beforehand and invent a reason for your absence – a business trip, a holiday, it’s up to you.

            – No, there’s no-one. I’m free.

            – Good to hear it. I have the documents here for you to sign and a bank account number to which you will pay the fee as an indication of your irreversible commitment.

            – Can I think about it?

            – You were supposed to already have thought about it. Why else are you here? You can refuse the offer, or accept it. This is the best opportunity you will ever have of becoming an amputee. Here’s a pen.

            – Where do I get to explain the type of stump I want?

            – You will discuss that with the surgeon beforehand, who will advise you on your choices.

            – OK, let’s do it!

            – Fill out your personal details on the last page and sign it. The transaction will be finalised on receipt of the two thousand five hundred in the account.

 

Ewing’s no nonsense take-it-or-leave-it offer was accepted by two more wannabes before nine o’clock. He bid Conrad and Trenton good night and left just as the first women began to arrive for their regular Ladies’ Night. Conrad switched on some music, dimmed the lights a little and placed cards on each table announcing twenty-five percent off Tequila Bounce, a cocktail which Trenton had developed from some cut-price but acceptable tequila, vodka, cranberry juice and demerara sugar. Thirstysomething was packed before ten and the rising volume indicated that a good time was had by all.

 

J U N E

 

Summer started fine. Colin would have liked to put some tables outside but permission was refused on grounds of safety due to the steps. Instead, a message on the A-frame announced It’s cool inside!

 

Thirstysomething had acquired regular customers in three months. The same after-work visitors usually dropped in soon after five during the week, the same women turned up each Tuesday evening, appreciative of being considered and having a venue to meet in during the week. And the same leathermen appeared twice a week, encouraged by Stubber who seemed to have a mystical power over the various local cliques. Oldies Night and RubberDev Night had not been repeated because there was not sufficient interest. It was not good for business to discourage other potential customers from visiting during those hours. The bar had achieved a reputation as a fashionable new place to hang out, with the added novelty of its unique and friendly staff.

 

Ewing had persuaded five local wannabes to part with a month’s wages and activated the system. The commission had been informed, seven students had been recruited for seven amputations, and the regular part-time staff for the boarding house had been alerted. He waited for confirmation that everyone was in place before instructing his wannabes that the time had come.

 

Another weekend Leather Night approached its end. Stubbers was in attendance without his man but did not lack for the company of burly leather daddies who wanted him to sit on their laps in order to feel his leather-covered stubbies or to stroke his magnificent salt-and-pepper beard. Stubbers had managed to encourage a large crowd from a neighbouring town. The guys had rented a coach for the evening which was waiting for them on the road in front of Thirstysomething, its motor running. Colin was in a good mood and feeling especially well-disposed toward this new group because one of the guys had purchased one of the glass sculptures for two thousand seven hundred. Three of the guys carried it carefully up the front steps, followed by Colin and the bus driver. The luggage compartment doors were on the street side, and Colin watched the sculpture placed inside. He was sorry to see it go. It was his favourite piece. But there would be a little more space inside until another artist provided something new. The driver closed and locked the compartment doors. The leathermen walked away towards the front of the coach and Colin turned to walk back to the bar via the rear. A dark blue electric BMW with no lights struck the back of the coach at an estimated ninety kilometres per hour. Colin was between the vehicles. The impact destroyed his legs from shin to mid-thigh.

 

The sound of the collision alerted everyone inside onto the street. Two leathermen seemed to have their hands in Colin’s groin who was conscious and laying back on the beemer’s bonnet. They were trying to stem the flow of blood. An approaching siren was heard and paramedics were on the spot moments later, wheeling Colin away into the interior of the ambulance which sped away, its siren splitting the early morning air.

 

Conrad was distraught. Trenton and Fred lifted and pulled him inside and gave him a tumbler of cognac. The next hour passed in bewilderment and futile questioning of how something so unfair, so unlikely, so cruel could be allowed to happen. There were no answers. Fred escorted Conrad home in a taxi at three thirty. Fortunately Thirstysomething was closed on Mondays.

 

It later transpired that the driver of the BMW had suffered a massive coronary attack and was probably dead before the moment of impact.

 

J U L Y

 

Business continued outwardly almost as normal despite Colin’s absence. Conrad needed someone by his side not only for emotional support but to take over some aspects of management and asked his staff for volunteers. Only Alex had any economic qualifications and tentatively offered his assistance. Conrad gave him the title of Deputy Executive which Alex had lettered along his arm sockets in gold leaf. News of Colin had not been encouraging. Both legs had been destroyed beyond any hope of salvage and his stumps were too short for him to be able to wear artificial legs. The prognosis was that Colin would be viewing the world from a wheelchair from now on, not easy for a one-armed man.

 

Conrad visited Colin regularly and kept him up-to-date with Thirstysomething. Explanations about how life continues after amputation were hardly necessary and talk was mostly about funny things which had happened at work, comments customers had made, and the general good wishes they had expressed. Stubber asked how Colin was doing and asked if it would be appropriate for him to pay Colin a visit. Conrad thought it would be very helpful and Stubber became Colin’s second most frequent visitor, never allowing him to feel hopeless or diminished.

            – I reckon it’s my leglessness which has given me the status I enjoy today. If I still had my legs, I’d just be one of the crowd. My disability makes me into Leather Superman!

            – You have such a powerful presence, though.

            – And so will you when you get a pair of stubbies under you. You’re gonna be invincible, my man!

 

Three hundred kilometres away, five young homosexuals were acquainting themselves with their new physical appearance. Adam Sutton, the young man who had admired Alex’s arms on opening day, had split with his boyfriend after his distaste for amputations became clear. There was nothing Adam wanted more than two phallic arm stumps of his own, his forearms shortened by half, terminating in the most delicate of scars. Two different students had conducted the amputations during the morning following Adam’s arrival and both had succeeded in producing identical, neatly sewn stumps and receiving full marks from the medical authorities which viewed the procedures remotely.

 

Simon Warner had been overheard enthusing about prostheses to his mates and admitted to Weiss, as he knew him, that he wanted to have artificial arms up to his shoulder. He meant that he wanted his arms amputated mid-bicep leaving two stumps about fifteen centimetres long. Simon woke up from his first surgery without hands, the owner of two wrist stumps. A male nurse explained that since his arms would eventually be much shorter, it was useful for his surgeon to amputate in stages. Smelling bullshit, Simon began to weep and was chemically pacified. He slept a drugged sleep, and through the next morning when four additional amputations were performed along his arms by different students until he was left with stumps five centimetres shorter than he had requested. The final student neglected to account for skin loss and it was necessary to remove more bone. It was not important. A lesson was learned. Simon now had very short stumps at his shoulders. The student received only a seventy per cent rating for his surgical skill but was commended for his suturing. Simon was wheeled to a recovery room, monitored and later pacified again when he awoke and realised the extent of his amputations.

 

Ross Hanson, Tom Bailey and Josh Sandhurst had requested their left or right arms amputated mid forearm. Six amputations were performed, first removing their hands and then their lower forearms. All woke with the stumps they wanted, although they would not see them unbandaged for several days. The foreign students received passing grades and were flown to Dubai in a private jet that evening, their practical studies completed, their handiwork accomplished to their tutors’ satisfaction, leaving five young infidels to suffer the shame of amputation for the rest of their lives.

 

Colin was discharged from hospital in a wheelchair. His short stumps were healing well and his physiotherapist recommended he become accustomed first to life in a wheelchair before progressing to stubbies or artificial legs. Colin’s flat was already suitable for use by a disabled person with wide doorways, now essential for him as a legless man. Colin had chosen a manual wheelchair modified for use with only one hand and managed well enough in his kitchen and bathroom. He had regular visitors during the day who insisted they do shopping and jobs round the flat while Colin recovered.

 

Conrad and Alex had got on famously running Thirstysomething together. Conrad had reluctantly begun to realise that Colin’s presence was no longer necessary. The new duo were managing things to everyone’s satisfaction. There was no jealousy among the staff toward Alex because of his new position. It was a sign of the solidarity which the amputees felt toward each other. Alex’s good nature and experience of having been a Thirstysomething employee counted for a lot.

 

A new town council was elected. It decreed that all cardboard and paper waste should be recycled. Equipment would be provided. Council workers deposited a mechanical crusher in the backyard of Thirstysomething. It was actually appreciated because of the difficulty of disposal of bulky cartons. On the last Tuesday of the month, Conrad gathered a pile of flattened cardboard boxes which the coming week’s wines had been delivered in and took them out. He opened the outer cover and lifted the first few into the hopper which unexpectedly snapped shut, trapping his arm. The interior compactor continued its operation, severing Conrad’s arm mid-bicep, allowing him to fall back to lay prostrate in the back yard.

 

Alex noticed his absence after a couple of minutes because they had been halfway through a conversation. He walked through the kitchen area and pushed open the rear door to see Conrad writhing in agony and covered in blood. He pulled out his phone with a hook and tapped its Emergency icon.

            –Emergency services. Which service do you require?

            – An ambulance please as fast as you can to Thirstysomething , back yard. We’re on Station Road,.

            – Thank you. An ambulance has been dispatched. Please have someone on the street to direct the ambulance.

 

Days later, after Conrad regained consciousness, he realised that his forearm prosthesis was now his good arm. The fifteen centimetres of flesh left below his shoulder would hardly control an artificial arm. The prospect excited him.

 

A U G U S T

 

Healing progressed. Colin’s thigh stumps were tight globes and he liked the look of them. A couple of stubbies and he would be competing with Stubber. He knew about Conrad’s latest amputation but had been unable to visit him. Conrad himself was perfectly well, getting in some reading while his second stump healed. On the eleventh he started rehabilitation and to his consternation, found he rather enjoyed the sensation of having a dominant left arm which was itself prosthetic.

 

Once again he underwent physical therapy. Loss of his hand had been easy in comparison. Loss of an elbow was a whole new ball game. He was coached to strengthen his bicep stump by raising it and pulling elastic bands until he could scream with frustration and boredom. The physiotherapist always wanted more. A cast was made of the fresh stump, and an upper arm socket made from it. The lower arm was of standard shape and function, ending with a Hosmer Five hook. The mechanical elbow could be persuaded to lock at five angles after much cajoling. The hook opened with little effort by shrugging his left shoulder. The new prosthesis was sleek black carbon fibre which, Conrad realised, was the de jure uniform for Thirstysomething personnel.

 

Conrad was declared ready for discharge. Nurses fussed around him, attaching his artificial arms for him, handing him equipment he would need for toileting and dressing himself. Care and maintenance of his new prosthetic arm was explained in a useful booklet, as dictated by two-handed experts twenty years previously. His kit was packed into a carry-all, hanging from the new right hook.

 

Conrad requested a taxi and went directly to Thirstysomething. It was two hours before opening time and the place was empty. Unlocking the entrance door’s two locks with a hook was the first obstacle. Conrad dropped the keys several times and had to twist his body for leverage to rotate the keys. Definitely changing those to electronic locks, he decided. Finally inside, he shucked his jacket after a minute of wriggling and decided to try pouring himself a beer. It was easy enough to put a glass under the tap and to press the button with his left hook. He attempted the same with his new right arm. He could angle his forearm into a suitable position to activate the hook in order to grasp a glass but then needed to raise his forearm to place the glass under the tap without reactivating the hook and dropping the glass. Rather than cause a mess which he would not be able to clean up, he put the glass down, pressed the button to pour himself a beer and raised it onto the counter. He walked around and sat on a stool.

 

Conrad had not wanted a second amputation but he was vaguely satisfied with his new body image. The new prosthesis was a bitch to control but he was certain he’d get the hang of it before long and be able to function as a double hooked man. He realised he could use this convalescent time to test the systems at Thirstysomething to see if they were easily operable with hooks or if something could be improved. The front door locks were first on his agenda. Conrad made an attempt at grasping his glass of beer in his right hook but couldn’t angle his forearm properly. He let it drop and used his left hook. Ah, it tasted so good after weeks of tapwater and the insipid drinks served at the hospital.

 

There was the sound of the door locks being tried and Alex walked in, pulling the door closed behind him. Conrad called out and Alex appeared, much relieved that it was Conrad who had unlocked the door.

            – Oh, look at you! Boozing at this time of day! Welcome back! How are you?

Conrad stood up and raised his artificial arms.

            – Man, you look fantastic with two hooks.

            – Well, so do you. I just got out an hour ago. They slapped this arm on me and said off you go. I have to go back for rehab three times a week. I don’t know what they can teach me which I can’t learn in half the time here, but anyway.

            – I thought I’d forgotten to lock up yesterday night when the locks were open. Gave me a scare, that did.

            – They were bastards to open with a hook. How do you manage?

            – All my keys have cube-shaped plastic surrounds on them so I can grab them more easily and then it’s a matter of bending over first, then putting the key in and bending over the other way. If the lock isn’t stiff, the door will open.

            – I couldn’t open it. It took me five minutes to get in. I’m gonna have them changed to electronic locks and give you and Colin keys. I can’t face doing that every time I need to come in.

            – Yeah, it would make life easier. Look, I have to get a few things ready before we open. Do you want to test your new arm?

            – I might as well.

            – OK. Two kegs of beer need to be changed and we should loosen the caps on a few bottles of wine and booze. Ah, but I don’t think you’re going to manage that. I usually wait for one of the guys with a hand for that little job.

            – Well, we could change the kegs. Let’s try that.

They did so and decided after successfully changing one keg with four hooks that it would be less frustrating to wait for Fred or Trenton to turn up. Having one hand did have its advantages, it seemed.

 

Colin had a text message from his prosthetist that the time was ripe for his first pair of stubbies and to turn up the following week on Thursday. He had been waiting for notice about manufacturing his stubbies because the wheelchair was becoming tedious. He wanted to be able to swing around his flat using his hand and backside but his stumps were still not robust enough to take that sort of punishment.

 

It was four thirty and all the evening’s staff had turned up for their shifts. Lee arrived and raised his right hook to shake hooks with Conrad. With a little effort, Conrad was able to raise his forearm and the two clasped each other’s steel hooks.

            – Welcome back, Con. It’s good to see you’re on the mend. Any advice you want about how to operate that arm, you only need to ask.

            – That’s good of you. I’m sure I will.

The guys changed into their T-shirts, first removing their prosthetic arms and then reattaching them. They were ready in their positions when Thirstysomething opened its door at five. Conrad wandered over to the door and stood opposite Lee. The first regulars arrived, one or two noticing something odd about Conrad and then realising that now both his arms were artificial.

            – You’re back again, I see. With a smart new bit of kit too. Have you heard about compensation yet or are they keeping you in suspense?

            – No, I’ve not heard anything definite yet as far as the amount is concerned but both the manufacturer of the bin and the council have admitted part responsibility so there should be a tidy sum on the way.

            – Good for you. You’ll be able to afford one of those high-brow bionic numbers, articulating fingers and all that.

            – You know, I prefer this traditional style for its looks and its practicality. I’m getting used to the new movements I need to make to get this new arm to work and I don’t want to lose the skill by wearing something which works in a totally different manner. But we’ll see.

            – Well, good luck anyway.

 

The door swung open with a metallic clatter and Adam Sutton entered. It was only his second visit and he did not expect anyone to remember him. He murmured a greeting to Lee and Conrad and went toward the bar where Alex and Trenton were busy. He fished out his wallet and phone with a hook and placed them on the counter. Alex looked at him for a moment and remembered the guy. He was the one who’d said he wished he had hooks on opening day.

            – What can I get you? I see you’ve got the hook you were after.

            – I have two, look!

            – Holy moly, you don’t do things by halves. Interesting design those sockets, they’re not the standard model at all. Where did you pick those up?

Adam was not prepared to tell the truth about his amputations but he also had not yet invented a cover story. His arms were a simple framework of four steel rods attached to a 3D-printed nylon stump socket with a Hosmer Five as a terminal.

            – Er, oh well, I had them made specially.

Alex didn’t believe him but made no comment.

            – I’d like a beer, please, mate. Can you put a straw in it? I’m not very good yet.

He got his drink, and Alex wondered about where in the country such odd prosthetics were made.

            It was Leather Night and the evening was another success. One leather guy had a hook, Alex noticed. When he bought another beer at the counter, Alex asked him about it.

            – It’s good to see a hook user among the leather guys. I remember seeing you before but I never noticed your hook.

            – Well, no, this is new. I’ve only had it a few weeks.

He pulled his sleeve up to reveal the same steel frame as Simon had shown him earlier.

            – Oh, you’re the second guy in here tonight with an arm like that. I’ve not seen them before.

            – Really? I had it made specially.

Alex was certain something odd was going on. Two new amps, both with arms clearly not made in the country. Alex suspected they were successful wannabes but the fact that two had appeared in the same evening started alarm bells ringing. Was someone using Thirstysomething as a base to recruit for voluntary amputations? Alex was not alarmed by the fact that young men were becoming amputees – he himself would not have wanted his natural hands back – but the idea of the bar and its customers being exploited was disturbing.

 

Alex did not know how close to the truth he was. Five local lads who had been customers were now wearing prosthetic arms of the identical foreign design, lightweight, fairly durable and quickly assembled. Weiss had disappeared after bringing the wannabes back to the town centre two weeks after their amputations. He delivered the minibus back to a garage near the capital, collected his belongings from his hotel and travelled north to his home where he altered his appearance before recommencing his lucrative business. He had been a tall, bearded gentleman on his visits to Thirstysomething. Now he stored his long prosthetic legs in a wardrobe, swapping them for wooden legs twenty-five centimetres shorter. Anyone searching for a tall man would overlook this clean-shaven, rather short man.

 

Colin’s appointment with his prosthetist went as expected. Plaster casts were taken and he was asked what type of stubbie he was interested in. He could have short, cylindrical carbon fibre stubbies with a thick layer of rubber on the base or short pylons attached to conventional sockets, terminating in impact-resistant nylon feet with rubber soles. In both case, it would be necessary to wear a broad leather belt and suspenders to which his stubbies were anchored. His stumps were simply too short for a normal suction socket to work reliably. Colin thought about it for a few moments and said he wanted a pair of both types. The prosthetist nodded and said his second pair would cost two thousand six hundred, which Colin thought a bargain. Two pairs were placed on order, the first fitting due in ten day’s time.

 

S E P T E M B E R

 

Alex had been doing some private investigation into the sudden appearance of new arm amputees in town. Friendly chats over the counter did not result in any useful information. The amputees seemed very reluctant to discuss the matter. They did not even seem to know where the amputations had been done. But some internet research revealed that the prosthetics were made by a Turkish company and fairly common throughout the Middle East. However, no-one had mentioned visiting Turkey. It was quite disturbing.

 

Conrad had all the locks changed to an electronic system. A small microchipped token acted as a key. It could be programmed to restrict access to various areas if necessary or to be active at only certain times of day. Conrad and Alex stuck their keys onto their arm sockets.

 

Colin wheeled himself into the prosthetist’s lab and saw two pairs of stubbies waiting for him. The prosthetist asked Colin to transfer to a stool and started the convoluted process of attaching the short pylons. First a leather and canvas harness was secured over his shoulders. A wide leather belt, almost a corset, was next. The two were buckled together. Lastly Colin pulled on a pair of stump socks and the pylons were slid gently on to the remnants of his thighs. Elasticated velcro straps fore and aft were adjusted for a secure fit and Colin was helped from the stool to a standing position, a huge grin on his face and an erection in his underwear.

            – Ha! I see you are enjoying this.

            – This feels so good. You can’t imagine.

 

The prosthetist fetched a standard-issue walking stick and measured the distance between Colin’s wrists and the floor. He cut the stick to size, attached a thick rubber ferrule and handed the shortened cane to Colin.

            – Try taking a few steps. You will find that it is easier to kick your stumps out to the side first and then forwards rather than try to walk as you used to.

Colin leaned on his cane and moved his right pylon forward by about ten centimetres. He shifted the cane and kicked his left stump out and forwards.

            – Good, that’s going well. You’ve got the idea.

 

Colin waddled across the room on steel pylons fifteen centimetres long, building up a rocking motion and succeeding in moving slowly but surely forward. As he approached the wall, he used the cane to help spin himself around on one pylon and stood in place for a few seconds as he ejaculated powerfully into his underwear.

            – Christ, that feels better! Sorry about that.

He was handed a towel and cleaned himself up.

            – You’d be surprised how often that happens. What causes it, I have no idea.

 

Colin practised stumping back and forth for a few minutes until the prosthetist suggested he test the other pair of stubbies. Velcro straps loosened, one pair of stubbies was replaced by the other. These were black carbon fibre and resembled artificial thighs. The cylindrical sockets were twenty centimetres long and terminated in three centimetre thick rubber soles, so Colin now stood a little taller than in his pylons. He took a tentative step forward.

            – These feel very different from that pair. The base is much wider and circular. It feels like they might spin me off course.

            – Yes, they are brand new so the rubber has not worn to suit your stride yet. They’ll feel much more secure when you get a bit of wear on them. In future, new replacement soles will be preformed to your individual wear pattern.

 

Colin watched himself in a full-length mirror. He walked to the opposite wall, made a three point turn, and stumped back. The stubbies made a hollow thud which he liked.

            – OK, I’m pleased with these. I’ll take ’em! Both pairs. And I’m keeping these on, if that’s alright with you.

            – By all means. Wear them as much as you can. If you notice your stumps getting tender, take the stubbies off immediately and get in touch. The sockets can be adjusted if there are any pressure points, for example.

            – I will. Thank you for these.

 

Colin put his cut-offs back on to hide his wet patch. They shook hands and Colin wheeled out, one pair of pylons and the shortened canes in a bag slung under his seat, the other glistening pair extending the length of his stumps to the edge of his chair.

 

On the last day of the month, a couple of young men entered Thirstysomething around six and sat at a table under the window next to each other. Trenton served two glasses of best lager and moments later watched as one lifted a glass to the other’s lips and used a tissue to dab them dry. Trenton thought it looked rather interesting from a disability viewpoint and kept an eye on them. Half an hour later they had emptied their glasses and rose to visit the john. Trenton managed to catch a glimpse of them and saw that one wore two hooks dangling loosely at his sides. It was Simon Warner, whose amputations had been botched in August. He now possessed a ten centimetre stump at each shoulder and had been successfully fitted with a pair of arm prostheses attached to a harness but which he had been unable so far to control. Fortunately his boyfriend, Steve, had stayed with Simon after he returned to their pad with stumps too short for the kinds of games they had had in mind. They were both bitterly disappointed but Steve had been complicit in Simon’s amputations, goading him on and promising to take care of him whatever happened. In point of fact, he was looking around for a new lover but at the moment he had his hands full, helping Simon urinate. Like the rest of the staff, Trenton knew about Alex’s theories and suspicions and wondered if he might be able to eke out more details. When the boyfriends returned and Trenton had served them new drinks, he called Conrad over and asked him if he could handle the bar for a few minutes. He could.

 

            – Hi, do you mind if I join you for a couple of minutes? There’s something we’ve been wondering about and you might be able to help us solve the mystery.

The lads glanced at each other and nodded.

            – You see, there are several new amputees – hook users like yourself – who have turned up this autumn. We have nothing against that, of course. But we are concerned that someone or some organisation is using Thirstysomething to recruit wannabes for amputations for some reason or other. That would be more than illegal, it would be immoral and disgusting and so on and the tabloids would have a field day with it if they ever heard about it and our little bar here would be dragged in and ruined.

They boys nodded, interested.

            – So what I want to tell you is this. About a year ago, I got the chance to lose my arm, which is what I always wanted to do since I was a little kid.

Their eyes widened.

            – And so I stuck this one into a circular saw and I got my hook. Now I want to ask you – what’s your name?

            – Simon.

            – I want to ask you Simon, if you also wanted to lose your arms and get artificial ones instead, like I did?

            – You promise you won’t tell anyone?

            – Well, I’ll tell my boss what you tell me but I won’t tell anybody that you wanted your arms amputated, if that’s what you mean. We want to find out if there’s some organisation using us for this kind of recruitment.

Simon made no comment about what he had wanted, which Trenton took to be silent admission of the fact.

            – There was a tall, old guy in here who came over and said he had heard me talking about wanting artificial arms and he knew a way to get them, really cheap. And I thought I’d give it a try. I hated my arms so much. I just wanted to be rid of them and have smart shiny hooks to do everything with. But now I have these and I can’t do anything!

He burst into tears. Conrad looked over to see what Trenton was up to.

            – Can you remember what he looked like? Do you know his name?

            – He was tall and had a grey beard and he walked a bit funny. He drove five of us somewhere, I don’t know where. It was like a hotel or boarding house with a surgery in it. These Arab guys did all the amputations, they were only about as old as we are. Then we got these artificial arms and two weeks late the beardy guy drove us back here.

            – How can you not know where you were going?

            – It was a minibus and we were in the back. There was a glass shield between the driver and us. When we drove out of town, all of a sudden the windows all blacked out so we were sitting almost in darkness in the back of this bus. So when we arrived , no-one knew where we were. It was the seaside, though, you could smell the sea.

Simon was getting quite involved in his story. His tiny stumps flailed and his prosthetic arms moved in response.

            – Then next day we had our amputations, at least I did but they only cut off my hands at first. Then next day they cut off the rest. And they cut too much off! I can’t use these little tiny stumps. I can’t make my fake arms work!

            – Don’t fret about that, Simon. Those arms are not very advanced and there are lots of ways to help you learn to work your new arms. You’re not getting any help at the moment, are you?

            – No. I just have these and I don’t know how to use them.

            – Well, don’t worry about that. I’m sure one of us can teach you. I mean, can you see any of the staff who can’t use their arms?

            – No.

            – But we all had to learn. So don’t be so down on yourself. Do you know, for example, that if you want your right arm to raise up, you have to push your left shoulder forward and then up? And then to open the hook, you push your shoulder forward again. Because the only part of you which can operate the arms is what you have left, right? Left right, haha, sorry! So you have your shoulders. And you can move them back and forwards and up. So that’s what you use to work your arms. It’s not easy to learn but lots of guys can do it, so there’s no reason why you won’t be able to. Lee and the boss have arms like yours, look at how they manage. I have to get back or I’ll get told off but thanks for letting me know what you told me. I promise I won’t tell anyone why you wanted your arms off. I know why. And don’t you tell anyone about me, OK?

            – OK.

Trenton returned to the bar and spoke to Conrad in a low voice.

            – It’s what we thought. There’s some outfit recruiting wannabes and using us as a recruiting ground. And it seems to be Arabs behind it. Simon over there said all the surgeons were youngsters like them and Arabs.

            – Well, I’ll be buggered.

            – Exactly.

 

O C T O B E R

 

Colin returned in the middle of the month. It was Leather Sunday and Colin dressed in some new leather he had purchased. A thick leather jacket, an officer cap, black leather shirt, black leather tie, black leather shorts just long enough to cover his black carbon stubbies. He stood in front of a mirror in his bedroom and thought he looked about as horny as he was ever going to look. He called a taxi, heaved himself inside and bade the driver to Thirstysomething. The driver knew exactly where it was. On arrival, Colin rang the doorbell and the flashing blue light had Marc open the back door for disabled arrival. Marc shouted with surprise at seeing his boss waddling towards him kitted out in leather.

            – Jesus man, can you get hornier than that? Great to see you again! How you doin’?

            – Never better, Marc, never better. Let’s get inside out of the cold.

He waddled in, making an unusual image as he kicked his stubbies up over the door sill and pushed himself inside. His carbon stubbies were short but as long as he could manage as yet. They looked as if they were part of him. His upper body was as impressive. The staff applauded him by smacking hooks onto the nearest hard surface and welcomed him back.

 

Stubber arrived fifteen minutes later by the same route. He swayed into the saloon via the kitchen and spotted Colin at eye height on the other side of the room. His stumps pumped his stubbies forward and he hugged Colin with tears in his eyes.

            – It’s so good to have you back, man! Just look at you! Fantastic! Fantastic legs you have. Are you working or will you spend the evening with us?

            – I’m not working.

            – Then it’s settled. You and me are going to rock this place tonight.

 

Conrad watched the two of them dominate the evening. Everyone wanted to sit at their table and there were sixteen leather guys leaning in chatting to them at one stage. Someone offered to take Colin’s stubbies and cover them in black leather if he wanted. He did, and arrangements were made.

 

The owners of Thirstysomething were very pleased with what they had achieved. During the process they had lost three limbs but, after all, the bar was dedicated to the admiration of prosthetic limbs. An idea began to grow and then fester in Conrad’s mind.

 

Alex had learned much more about how Thirstysomething had been the centre of a recruitment drive to find wannabe youngsters who would be amputated by equally young Arabs for very little money. Therefore the backing organisation had to be wealthy, had no interest in the youngsters’ post-operative well-being , hid its identity completely and probably moved around the country. One of the recent arm amputees mentioned that his brother had been approached by a similar sounding man with short dreadlocks in a pub upcountry a couple of years previous who offered a leg amputation for two and a half grand. His brother had grabbed the chance and now walked on a rigid steel peg, the way he had wanted to be. The modus operandi was too similar for coincidence – it had to be the same man.

 

Alex had the idea of comparing the dates of aeroplane arrivals with the mass amputations. He had the idea that Middle Easterners were behind it, so he ran searches of arrivals of private aircraft to various regional airports one or two days before the wannabes were transported by minibus for the surgeons. Information from the peglegger concerning dates confirmed beyond a doubt that a private aircraft flew in from Dubai a day before a spate of amputations were performed and which departed for Dubai the day after. It was the same aircraft every time, OD-EEW, registered in Lebanon. Alex revealed all this to Colin and Conrad, who were amazed at both Alex’s prowess and the utter audacity of the operation. At the same time, they realised they were partly responsible for encouraging young men to worship hooks and prosthetic limbs, leading to their wannabe amputations. They were concerned for their reputation, not the disablement of young men. They understood how desirable disablement was in the minds of otherwise healthy men.

 

N O V E M B E R

 

Colin turned up every day. He fully approved of Alex’s promotion to Conrad’s Number Two. He had given up on stubbies, at least for the time being, and had ordered a socket which encompassed his entire pelvis with a slot at the front for peeing. The socket, or bucket as he called it, had steel bolts on the underside to which were attached a variety of pylons of different length and design. Colin preferred short stubbies with semi-hemispherical steel feet which allowed him to slide forward, aided by a short crutch. His natural arm was too long to ambulate comfortably and he wished he could halve its length.

 

Conrad, unsymmetrically armless as he was, had fallen in love with the image of being legless. He always enjoyed seeing Stubber and never failed to achieve and maintain an erection when Stubber was present. Stubber himself was infatuated with the staff who flaunted their artificial arms, or so it seemed to him. Stubber had begun to wonder if he also might enjoy having sleek black arms with chrome steel hooks. He didn’t actually need to do anything. His manslave at home who worshipped his thigh stumps would only be more enthusiastic if he had two more stumps. He decided on long bicep stumps. Hairy, muscular stumps.

 

Conrad watched Colin drag himself around Thirstysomething on Leather Nights, encouraged by Stubber. Colin was never less than welcome at any table he paused at, wishing everyone welcome and thanking them for their continued patronage. Conrad realised that there was nothing he wanted more in life than his own thigh stumps and to wear the kinds of stubbie which Stubber wore. Long, knee length, leather, rubber soles and that gait – he wanted to walk by flailing his legs. It was so beautiful, so masculine.

 

Alex scanned daily arrivals of aircraft according to registration numbers. It was a quick process, the numbers easily arranged alphabetically. On the fifteenth, OD-EEW appeared again, and due to land in two hours time at a small airport thirty miles way. He immediately alerted Conrad who phoned Colin at home and Conrad ordered a taxi for a bit of sleuthing. Five minutes later, the three of them were speeding north to the airport. They realised that they would not gain access to the airport itself but it would be feasible to halt the minibus on its exit and interrogate the driver.

 

Conrad hoped they would be successful in finding the tall gentleman again who arranged to make wannabe amputations happen. Conrad, Colin and Stubber all wanted new stumps. It was, Conrad assumed, in the other party’s interest to have willing candidates for surgery. Their strategy was to make it obvious to the tall gentleman that the game was up, the truth was known and any refusal to accommodate the Thirstysomething trio would result in denouncement to the authorities. It would be much easier to simply accept three more volunteers.

 

The taxi arrived at the aerodrome and the driver was satisfied to wait with his engine running. Twenty minutes later, a white jet landed and Conrad was able to distinguish the last two letters of its registration – EW. The surgical students had arrived. Colin asked the taxi driver to pull out in to the middle of the road on his say-so, blocking it and allowing Conrad to chat to the driver of the minibus, who they assumed would be their tall gentleman. After twenty minutes the bus appeared between some trees and the taxi moved to block the road. Conrad stood behind it waving his hooks as if in distress and the minibus halted ten metres away. Conrad approached the driver.

            – Sorry to stop you like this – hey, I recognise you! You’ve shaved your beard. You’re just the man we were looking for.

He quickly explained the situation omitting the threat. Weiss was not a stupid man and realised that his game might be up if he refused them and asked for a few moments. He made a call to someone explaining that there were three more cases on the way than originally planned, if that was agreeable. Apparently it was.

            – You can join the group immediately. We still have room.

            – We need to go via the town centre to pick up the third passenger. I’m sure you know the way.

            – I do. Please board the bus now. We have a strict timetable.

Conrad gave the thumbs up to Alex who was watching from the taxi’s back window, climbed in and helped Colin up into the minibus. He knocked on the partition and shouted, Ready!

The taxi pulled away and the minibus followed it back into town. En route, Colin called Stubber and said that the time had come, be on the street in front of your flat in twenty minutes! Conrad tried some small talk with the other passengers but although they seemed to understand English, none of them was feeling talkative. Colin finished his call.

            – Stubber is coming too. I wonder what he wants done.

            – Mmm, he’s never mentioned wanting more work to me. We’ll have to ask him.

Stubber was waiting at the roadside as arranged. He swung his stubbies up into the minibus, steadied by Conrad’s left hook.

            – Hiya! This is a surprise! Imagine meeting you here. Well, off we go towards our future. I’m gonna be the way I’ve always wanted to be, what are you having done?

            – Conrad wants his legs off at the knee. I want my hand off so I can use an artificial arm. How about you?

            – I’m having both arms off above the elbow. I want arm prostheses too, always have. Nothing is more erotic than a pair of hooks on a handsome man. Nothing.

 

The minibus headed for the coast. The windows were soon blacked out, to the consternation of the students who had been gawping in wonder at the amount of greenery they saw. On arrival, Conrad helped Colin and Stubber out of the bus and they entered the boarding house. They were assigned rooms with all amenities and told to call for room service when they wanted a meal or anything else. Alcohol was not permitted, however.

 

After dusk, a polite knock on each door announced a visit by the chief surgeon who would be overseeing work done by the young students. He wished to learn of the desired amputations, he explained. He noted everything the three amputees explained to him, assured them that there was no problem and that by noon the next day, inshallah, they would own new stumps.

 

Twenty-four hours later, Colin woke and saw his bandaged arm and went back to sleep. Conrad woke to find himself with thighs but no knees or lower legs and Stubber awoke with bilateral twenty centimetre long arm stumps. He ground his genitals between his hairy thigh stumps and brought himself to ecstatic orgasm.

 

Healing progressed much faster than was usual. Stubber pressed one of the male nurses for information about how it was possible to discharge fresh amputees after only two weeks. He learned that new nerve and tissue electrolysis promoted rapid healing without the risk of future phantom pain or dermatological complications. It was an experimental treatment, tested for the first time in the spring of that year. It appeared to be successful. The nurse assured Stubber that he would be walking out in two weeks with a pair of artificial arms of the latest design.

 

Conrad’s stumps would require more time to heal. His nurse explained to him the kind of prostheses he would be issued. They were similar to leg braces attached to a belt and suspender system like Colin used. Thigh sockets would hold his stumps in position laterally and ischial rings at pelvic level would do the same vertically. The lower leg section was a mere fifteen centimetres long and terminated in a disc of rubber. For all intents and purposes, they were rigid stubbies made of steel rods.

 

Colin had become a torso with half an arm. An error in translation had led not to the amputation of half his forearm but of half his arm. His forearm had been disarticulated at the elbow. There was nothing to be done. Colin almost panicked when he came to and realised his new configuration was much less than he expected. But as he moved his new stump feeling its phallic, club-like nature and thought of the full length gleaming arm prosthesis in his near future, he spontaneously ejaculated twice. He would not make a complaint. His cum-soaked sheets proved that he was satisfied. He called out for a nurse.

 

The trio were allowed to join each other in each others’ rooms. All sat in wheelchairs but only Conrad was able to propel himself with his hooks. Bandages had been removed and they admired their new bodies, the work having been done neatly with considerable expertise. Stubber continually gesticulated with his bicep stumps, enjoying their rigidity and lack of weight. Colin had spoken with the chief surgeon about the mishap and asked if he might have two arm prostheses in compensation. Not having any kind of stump on his right side, a socket would be a challenge for the prosthetists but Colin was promised a pair of arms.

 

Ten days after the amputations, the three were assessed by a prosthetist. Their stumps were scanned, the data entered into a computer-controlled 3D printer and within hours, nylon sockets matching each stump had been created. The prosthetic framework was assembled, the socket locked and welded into place, and the arms were fitted with cables, harness and hooks. Colin’s socket covered most of his chest and back. A dual network of cabling crisscrossed his shoulders enabling him to operate either arm using only his left shoulder and stump. A chin-operated toggle allowed him to select operation of his full-length right prosthesis and then his left. It was an ingenious system which Conrad also found fascinating. He’d keep an eye on how Colin managed and thought he might choose something very similar for himself at some future date. Colin’s framework stubbies weighed next to nothing but were very rigid and secure on his long stumps, the ends of which were held safely away from contact with the prostheses. He tried them on, was helped to stand on their ten centimetre diameter rubber feet and felt perfectly complete. An ecstatic feeling of well-being washed through his body and he came in his shorts.

            – I want some crutches, short ones with the handles low down to grip with my hooks. Can you make something like that for me?

            – It should be quite possible.

The surgeon took a few quick measurements with the scanner and left the room. Fifteen minutes later he returned with Conrad’s adapted crutches. Conrad took them, bent forward to see where his hooks were positioned and guided them onto the crutches’ crossbars. He took a step, then another, using a four point action, and managed to navigate the rooms on his pristine steel stubbies. Conrad felt his body to be correct and irreparably perfect. He ejaculated once more and laughed with joy.

 

Stubber received his new artificial arms. The sockets were contained within six steel rods held by steel rings at the shoulder and the elbow mechanism. The forearms were four steel rods attached to the elbow and to the wrist mechanism which held the standard hook. The arms were attached to a harness which appeared to be made of a material like silicon and which Stubber found pleasant to feel against his skin.

            – We have made these arms shorter than your natural arms were. Short arms are easier to control, we have found. You may need to alter the sleeves of your clothing. Also shorter arms may be more convenient with your shorter stature.

Stubber tried to think of some clothing he had other than his leather jackets which had sleeves.

            – Not a problem.

            – Can you raise the hooks to your mouth?

Carefully, unsure of the amount of force needed, Stubber lifted each arm to his face.

            – Good. You will have no trouble in feeding yourself. Now to operate the hooks, you need to shrug – like this – and the arm will switch from moving the forearm to moving the hook. Try it.

Stubber practised shrugging and jerking his shoulders. He looked fairly helpless until after a few minutes his frown slowly changed to a satisfied smile and he clasped his hooks together.

            – I think I’m going to keep these on and have a gold old wank.

 

D E C E M B E R

 

Conrad and Colin made a decision to move in together. Conrad moved his furniture and electronics into Colin’s spacious ground-floor flat and the two quadruple amputees were able to pool their resources and strengths to get most things done. They discussed hiring a butler or valet to help them dress and attend to their personal hygiene and Colin was looking into it. Conrad heard that his compensation claims had both been resolved and eight hundred and seventy-five thousand appeared in his bank account.

 

On the fifteenth, they both returned to Thirstysomething for the first time since the second week of November. Both of them were on stubbies, Colin using his bucket with the rigid, immovable, short pylons, Conrad flashing his steel framework stubbies under a minimalist pair of leather shorts. Both were wielding shortened crutches. Both still found moving on their stubbies intensely erotic and both nursed erections or semis for most of the day. The employees were all shocked to see how very severely disabled the two were. They knew, especially Trenton, that there was no accounting for the desire for amputations nor the resultant sense of joyful fulfilment after having one. Or two or three or four.

            – Is anyone doing anything special on the Monday of Christmas week? I thought we might have a bit of a party in here – just us and maybe one or two guests you might like to invite. Try to keep it under thirty, though. We could start around six, if that suits you and carry on until the last one standing calls it a night. There will be food and drink and music.

Everyone agreed that it was a most excellent way to round out the year.

 

Caterers brought in huge quantities of Thai and Korean food and laid them out buffet style. Bottles of champagne glistened under the lights and naturally the storeroom contained everything an enjoyable evening might require.

Just before uncorking the first bottle of champers, Conrad rose onto his circular rubber feet and made a short announcement.

            – This won’t take long, don’t worry. I just want to express my thanks to you all for the success we have enjoyed this year. We have turned a crazy idea which no-one thought would work into the best place in town to hang out, served by some of the most famous bar tenders in the country. By way of thanks, it gives me pleasure to tell you that everyone will be getting a thirteenth month’s wages on the thirtieth of this month – it seemed an appropriate date. So well done everyone.

As for next year, Colin and I want to keep Thirstysomething the way it is at present but we also want to try something new. Therefore we are announcing the start of a new venue early in the new year. It will be called One Off and it will be manned entirely by leg amputees who, during work hours at least, will be wearing old-fashioned wooden peg legs.

Now let’s get stuck in!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

O N E O F F

 

A N   U N L I K E L Y   T A L E   B Y   S T R Z E K A   F O R   S T E V E N   P.

 

J A N U A R Y

 

Saturday, January the second, 2027 began like any other weekend day. The crew were in place and ready ten minutes before midday, decked out in their uniforms, a navy blue T-shirt with the Thirstysomething logo on the front and back. Colin and Conrad had been inside for over an hour going over a new business plan which Conrad had initiated a bit before Christmas.

            – So if the Nepalese restaurant moves out at the end of the month, the two adjacent properties will be empty?

            – Yup. Then we rent them both, knock them together and have a nice big bar with a nice big space for our pegleggers to run around in.

            – Are you sure the walls can be knocked down?

            – Yeah, I looked into that. It’s not a retaining wall so the whole building won’t fall down and the leaseholder said he doesn’t care what we do as long as we pay the rent.

            – And will we?

            – Don’t say things like that, mate.

            – Well, of course we’ll pay the rent! I meant, are you sure it’s the right place for the sort of bar we have in mind? I know it’s on the High Street and so on but High Streets are dead after the shops close, what there are left of them.

            – But look at what happened when we opened Thirstysomething. No-one wanted to hang around Station Road before we opened. Now there are other shops opening up nearby, not to mention that bastardly wheelchair shop. There’s no reason OneOff couldn’t turn Central Arcade back into a popular venue again.

            – OK, well, that’s not what we’re opening for but I get your drift. And you reckon three hundred square meters is sustainable?

            – I sort of blackmailed the landlord. I told him that if we didn’t get the Nepalese place at a fifty percent reduction, we’d sue him for whatsit.

            – And what’s whatsit?

            – Not renting because we’re a bunch of cripples.

            – Discrimination against the disabled, you mean.

            – Exactly.

            – And what did he say?

            – He just looked like he’d shit his undies and agreed.

            – Vicious!

            – Well look, the place next door has been empty for two years, the second floor is practically empty. So I reckon that although the guy needs money, it’s better we rent something from him than no-one rents nothing.

            – Anything. Alright, I get your point and I agree with you. Let’s have a look at those floor plans. Looks like there’s already a kitchen in place, so that’s a plus and the place must have a loo too. What used to be here next door?

Colin dropped his hook onto the blueprint.

            – Some clothes shop.

            – Looks like an open space, so that’s good. OK, let’s hire an architect and show him this stuff and explain what we want and it should be plain sailing. What’s the inside going to look like? Dark and mysterious like Thirstysomething?

            – No, let’s try something new. I want it to look like it was designed by Eero Saarinen and Le Corbusier with furniture and fittings by Alvar Aalto.

            – And is that a good thing?

            – It is indeed. Well, Sixties style. But we should do it like that. It’ll look like an old sci-fi film set.

            – Well, assuming you know what you’re talking about – because I don’t – let’s go ahead with that. And how about the staff? We’ve agreed on peg legs all round. Where are we going to get personnel who wear peg legs?

            – I don’t think we’ll have much of a problem there.

Conrad waved his hooks in the air, gesticulating.

            – All around us are hundreds of guys who have been denied work because of a stupid little thing like a missing leg.

He slapped his stubbies with his arm sockets.

            – All they need is an opportunity to shine and they blaze! We put the word out that we’re looking for new legless bar staff. I don’t want to broadcast the terms and conditions just yet but I have an idea which won’t leave us out of pocket, probably. What do I know? I’ve only been legless for two months.

            – Stubbers will help.

            – For sure. And when Stig and Buck turn up, I’ll ask them if they know anyone. Jeez, just think if they’re willing to join us themselves!

            – Ha! Our two most dedicated customers becoming our employees. Wow! That would be quite something. Let’s ask them the next time they rock up.

 

They were talking about the two leathermen who had made themselves a home from home in Thirstysomething. Both had been in the army in Afghanistan where both of them had lost their legs. Now they wore stubbies at home and full length artificial legs in public. If they were not interested themselves, they would certainly know other amps who might be willing to give bar tending a try. Some of Stubber’s ex-army mates might also be up for it. Youngish guys desperate to get back to work as independent men instead of hangers-on in quasi-military positions granted them out of pity.

 

A contract between Thirstysomething’s Conrad and Colin and the owners of Central Arcade’s two adjacent premises was drawn up, inspected by solicitors, approved and signed. The limbless men were free to do what they wanted.

 

F E B R U A R Y

 

Conrad was on the look-out for a new sculpture for Thirstysomething to replace the one which they had sold, indirectly leading to Colin losing his legs. There was an art exhibition in a town fifty kilometres away and so he paid it a visit, driving himself for a change in his brand new electric Mini. He removed his stubbies and operated the vehicle with his hooks, travelling in comfort.

 

Many of the works on display were captivating. Concoctions of papier mâché made to resemble flesh, tree branches twisted into human figures, steel sheets moulded to resemble foodstuffs. Then Conrad saw what he was looking for. A glossy wooden curve, hollow, rising cylindrically from the floor two metres into the air, ending in a human hand spread in plaintive desperation to the heavens.

 

Conrad enquired from the gallery’s proprietor who the sculptor was and left the exhibition with a growing erection. He had found his manufacturer.

 

So he hoped. He did not imagine any struggling artist – and who had ever heard of an artist who was not struggling – would turn down an offer like the one he intended to propose. He had been given the artist’s name, email and phone number. He thrust his prosthetic left arm from side to side following the twists of the road and reached home feeling triumphant. Conrad had rather let his imagination run away with him but as he sat sideways with the Mini’s door open pulling his stubbies on, he felt he was on the right path.

 

Colin was home, lying on the sofa with the remote in one hook.

            – See anything interesting?

            – I did indeed. I have found an artist who can sculpt wood into astonishing, wondrous shapes. I have no doubt that he can sculpt wood into peg legs. I think I’ll give him a call.

            –Well, don’t bother just yet, crawl on top of me like some legless cunt and give me a kiss.

The kiss led to one thing leading to another and before long the quads were on their bed, flailing stumps in an attempt to penetrate the other, deeper.

 

Breakfast was served and suitably positioned for them on their low breakfast counter by Victor, their butler from six a.m. to midday. Victor was effeminate but not overly so. Colin and Conrad preferred their men to be manly, hence the growing attraction for each other as they had shed their limbs. Nothing could be more masculine than a torso with prosthetics. Victor ensured their foreskins and anuses were clean, assisted them if necessary with donning their prosthetic limbs, washed up, hoovered and otherwise cleaned the flat. The quads paid him a thousand five hundred a month for six days a week, Tuesday to Sunday when Thirstysomething was open. They regarded Monday as something of an adventure when they saw to everything themselves. They had a race to get a t-shirt, shorts and boots on. The loser had to make breakfast. Conrad with two arm stumps operating two artificial arms usually won and so Monday breakfast was almost always Colin’s one-armed omelette and espresso.

 

Conrad had chosen to have knee disarticulations by the secretive Middle Eastern commission’s students which arranged these things for their own nefarious purpose. He began to wish he had chosen much shorter stumps than the current knee length versions. He was ashamed of his sexual performance regarding his long-term lover. Colin’s body was a rounded torso with a dick and balls. Conrad’s body had two thigh-length appendages which he hated because they prevented the extreme penetration into his lover which he wanted. Something had to be done. Conrad pushed himself erect with his black prostheses.

            –Let’s get going!

            – What do you mean, let’s get going? Going where? What are you talking about?

            – I’m talking about the guy who is going to make us our peg legs.

            – Well, I don’t need peg legs, you twerp! How am I supposed to use peg legs?

            – We have our ways. Now cut the crap and get some shorts on. Such a scruff, god almighty. We’re going for a ride.

The pair of them waddled on stubbies round to the newly installed lift to the underground car park and into the eMini. They chucked their stubbies and crutches onto the back seat. Conrad wriggled out of his right arm prosthesis and pressed the car’s Start button. A loud tone announced that the Mini was ready to go so Conrad inserted his left arm stump into the steering wheel’s socket, pressed forwards to move the car and said, Hold your breath!

            – I’ll hold your dick in a minute. I hope you know what you’re doing. It looks precarious, with just your shitty stump on the wheel.

            – Ah, but that’s only because you are not used to riding with an expert quadruple amputee who hardly knows where he’s going.

            – It’s why I love you.

            – Well, just keep quiet and enjoy the scenery. It'll all be worth it.

 

Four hours later, they arrived at the home of Philip Lee, semi-famous sculptor, whose artwork had impressed Conrad on his visit to the art show. They hadn’t made an appointment but knocked, expecting the worst. The door creaked open. A short figure stood before them and bid them good day.

            – Hello! Was I supposed to be expecting you? I’m very sorry but I seem to have forgotten.

He suddenly realised that the men standing in front of him were no taller than himself.

            – Good god, you’re legless, both of you! No indeed, I was not expecting you but do come in. I am most intrigued by your unexpected arrival. I don’t believe I have ever received two stubbers before at the same time. Come in and kick the door shut. Please follow me into my study.

He turned from the door in three or four attempts and thrust his short peg legs forward, entering a large room furnished with especially low furniture. Colin and Conrad entered, placing one stubby onto the doorstep and using their hooks to steady themselves as they drew the other stubby up. Colin ensured the door was closed.

 

            – Do sit down and make yourselves comfortable. If you wish to remove your limbs, please feel free to do so.

The seating area was a vast cushion raised about twenty centimetres off the floor, featuring raised mounds against which one could lean or use as a pillow or for other support. It was sublimely comfortable and both visitors decided to acquire something very similar for their own home.

            – I see you use prosthetic arms. I would offer you tea or coffee but my man always serves it in delicate porcelain which I know you will not be able to handle comfortably, so I ask if I may serve you with something in a more practical mug?

            – I would very much like a mug of black coffee.

            – Yes, thank you. The same for me, please.

Lee pressed a button attached to one of his pegs and his butler appeared at the door.

            – Coffee for three, I would guess. Good morning, gentlemen.

            – Good morning.

            – James, be a darling and bring us some coffee in those stoneware mugs, the ones with the thick handles.

            – Certainly, sir.

            – Oh, he is so formal when we have visitors. We are actually lovers. He worships my stumps, bless him. We are both artists and share the workspace behind the house. When we have guests, he behaves like an old-fashioned valet. Such frivolity!

            –It seems to be a very amicable arrangement.

            – Indeed it is. Now! What have you come to see me about?

            – You answered our question the moment you opened the door. We wished to enquire if you could possibly fashion peg legs in the same way as you fashioned the remarkable sculpture I saw a couple of weeks ago at the Johnson Gallery.

            – Oh, you saw that! What did you think? It’s the largest work I have ever exhibited.

            – It was awe-inspiring. Quite apart from being an awesomely beautiful work, it made me think of desperation and hope.

            – Oh, how wonderful! That is exactly what I had intended. How satisfying it is to learn that you understood.

            – Mmm. Well, we wanted to know if you could possibly sculpt a peg leg in the same way as the sculpture was made. And here you are with two extremely beautiful pegs which I can only assume were created in the same fashion. So I have no reason to ask if it is possible – there you are, living proof!

            – How extraordinary. Yes, I have in my possession equipment which allows me to sculpt any design which can be drawn on a CAD program. The designs are drawn by myself or generated automatically by a laser scanner such as you gentlemen may be familiar with from the manufacture of your prosthetics. Then my router takes over and carves the design into wood or plastic.

            – That sounds fascinating. So you could scan, for example, the stump of a limb and have the computer reproduce its shape in wood?

            – Oh, dear man! Much more than that. I can use the scan to design a socket to which I add extensions and adaptations such as my pegs. These were produced in exactly that way. So to answer your question, is it possible, the answer is here before you.

            – They are very beautiful works of art in themselves. We would like to ask if you would be willing to manufacture for us a series of customised pegs for a variety of young men. You see, our plan is to found a bistro in which all the staff are leg amputees and we want them all to wear peg legs.

            – How extraordinary! What a wonderful idea. A bistro full of peg legged men! I should be there every night! Gentlemen, not only am I willing to make peg legs for handsome young men, I am positively enthused! Ah, here’s our coffee.

James positioned a marble slate onto the cushion between the men and placed three grey stoneware mugs onto it.

            – Thank you James.

He withdrew.

            – Did you notice anything odd about James?

His guests replied that they had not.

            – Excellent! He is in fact wearing a pair of artificial legs. He has longer stumps than I. And he prefers modern technology to the traditional styles which I favour.

            – He walks remarkably well on them. May I ask how long you have used peg legs? I have to admit I have never met a man who uses two pegs.

            – Oh, I had my legs off over thirty years ago. I lay down on the rails in a shunting yard and had a couple of oil wagons sever my legs above the knee. I created my first works of art, my leg stumps, which will always be my proudest creations. Might I ask if all your amputations are accidental? It seems unlikely.

            – I lost my left forearm to a barrel of beer and my right arm to a cardboard impactor. Those were accidents. Later I had my lower legs amputated by choice. Colin here left an arm in Afghanistan. Then his legs were severed in a road accident and he chose to lose his other arm to the same surgeon who did my legs.

            – Were the extra amputations performed in this country?

            – Yes, by a foreign organisation.

            – Oh, foreign, you say. I was thinking one of my friends might have been behind it.

            – Who might that be?

            – Excuse me if I do not reveal his name, but he is a former military surgeon who was dismissed for some inexactitude but who continues his trade for those who desire an amputation or two.

            – In this country?

            – Indeed.

            – That’s interesting. I wonder if he is still available and willing to do some work on our behalf.

            – I am sure he would be more than willing. He lives in the depths of the south-west and so is fairly isolated, which his activities require, I assume. I could contact him to ask if he would be prepared to do some work, as you put it, on more young men. I am sure he would be most amenable.

 

Coffee drunk, questions answered and new horizons opened, Colin and Conrad bade their host a good day and promised to be in contact as soon as the first new peg legs were needed. The cost was three thousand seven hundred each.

 

            – Unbelievable!

            – What part was unbelievable? The price? The amputator guy? The peg legs?

            – All of it! Imagine such a prissy homosexual trotting around on little short peg legs, living in luxury with another double amputee! It hardly seems possible.

            – It looks like our lack of limbs is opening doors to opportunities we never thought of. I don’t think he would have been so forthcoming if we’d had our legs.

            – No, neither do I. But I think he liked us. He’ll be our source for peg legs.

            – Watch out for that tractor!

            – I’ve seen it!

 

Back home, they began searching for an interior designer who could design a retro-modern interior with three bars suitable as a work environment for men with mobility problems. A designer in the north of the country, Daniel Perry, had some impressive and beautiful examples of interior redesigns so Colin called him.

            – Good afternoon. My name is Colin Colby and I’d like to ask if you would be interested in designing a restaurant or bistro, suitable for able-bodied customers and disabled staff.

            – That sounds very unusual. In what way are the staff disabled?

            – They all have prosthetic legs.

            – Are you jesting with me? A bar with leg amps as staff?

            – Exactly that.

Colin noticed Perry’s use of the word amps. Few outsiders would refer to amputees that way or even be aware of the word’s existence.

            – Well, I presume we could reach an agreement. Is it possible to visit the premises? Where are you situated?

Colin named the town and Perry whistled through his teeth.

            – That’s a long way for me to come. I am disabled, you see, and I find long journeys quite a bother.

            – We could send you the ground plans and examples of what we have in mind first if that would be helpful.

            – Oh, it would indeed but I would have to pay a visit at some time before I start work.

            – We have in mind a light space with curved walls. I had in mind the work of Saarinen, if you are familiar with him – he designed the TWA airport terminal in New York.

            – Yes, I know that work well. It has always been an inspiration for me.

            – Oh, good! Well, imagine using the same curves and flowing lines in a space only four metres high. That’s what we would like you to work with.

            – How fascinating. Thank you so much for such an inspirational opportunity.

They discussed price, delivery of plans, specifications for CAD work, colour schemes, both of them niggling here and there about one detail or another but generally agreeing that the design work could be completed for just under forty thousand.

            – Let me check my diary for a possible date to inspect the premises. Mmm, next week I have Monday completely free. Might you be able to pick me up at your local station? As I said, I am disabled and would appreciate some assistance.

            – Of course we will be there to meet you. What kind of assistance might you need?

            – Oh, just a car waiting would be enough.

            – We’ll see you then. Thank you for your help.

            – Think nothing of it.

 

The rest of the week was spent at Thirstysomething and the guys were in an unusually good mood as they mingled with the customers, especially on Leather Sunday. Conrad had taken delivery of a new pair of carbon stubbies covered with top quality black leather and waddled around the premises shaking hooks and hands. He was looking forward to meeting Perry the next day and mentioned to several patrons the new bistro they would be opening soon in the town centre.

 

Perry was due on the train arriving at 14:33 so Colin and Conrad turned up at about twenty past the hour. Colin was nervous about something and rocked back and forth along the platform in his bucket and short pylons.

            – What’s the matter with you?

            – I’m worried that he won’t want the job. We’re almost at the end of the month, the rents on two lots of premises have to be paid and we’re nowhere ready with OneOff. It just makes me tetchy.

            –Tetch away, here comes the train.

It pulled in alongside the platform. Passengers disembarked and both Colin and Conrad peered at each one searching for a disability. They had no idea what Perry looked like. Finally after the crowd had dispersed, a kilted figure in the distance alighted from the train accompanied by a taller man also sporting a kilt. The first propelled himself forwards on a short central peg leg with two peg arms acting as crutches. The other walked beside him, his wooden leg blatantly obvious. Colin and Conrad, both quadruple amputees themselves, had never seen anyone so critically disabled and mobile in such an odd fashion.

 

The duo arrived at the head of the platform and offered their greetings.

            – It is so rare for me to venture out these days. Fortunately I have my very good friend who will help me on occasions such as this. Well, where do we go? There is a car, is there not?

            – No, we need to hail a taxi.

            – That is of no import. Ferguson, you have everything with you?

            – I do indeed, sir.

            – Good. Let’s go.

He leant forwards onto the crutches protruding from his shoulders and dragged his peg forward. Finding his stride, the crutches and peg beat a regular rhythm through the station’s main hall and out onto the main road. Colin hailed a taxi by waving a hook and a large electric Mercedes pulled up.

            – Driver, please be patient while I enter your vehicle. Do you have space in the boot for extra equipment?

            – Certainly, sir.

            – Very good, thank you. Please wait a moment while we attend to this.

Ferguson grasped Perry in his arms and laid him prostrate onto the back seat of the cab. Perry pressed a few locations around his torso and Ferguson gently pulled off the peg and its bucket, handing it to the taxi driver to stash in the boot. Removing Perry’s peg arms was the next task. They were simple to extract from his upper arm stumps and were similarly placed in the boot. Colin handed his short crutches to the driver and Conrad shoved him onto the taxi’s back seat and removed Colin’s bucket.

            – Thank you, driver. You are very kind. I imagine you do not often see such items.

            – No, sir. Please remember to take them with you at your destination.

Everyone laughed. Ferguson rotated Perry’s torso to face forwards. Colin sat in the back seat and held his bucket, its tiny pylons poking upwards. Conrad himself, with no more encumbrance than two rigid knee length stubbies, sat next to the driver.

            – Driver, do you know the Nepalese restaurant on High Street? We’re going there.

            – Yes, I know it. Unfortunately it has closed, sir. Would you like me to take you to another restaurant?

            – That’s very kind of you to offer but we intend to renovate the old Nepalese place, so that’s where we need to go.

            – Understood, gentlemen. Excuse me.

The car slid into silent motion and steadily accelerated into traffic.

            – I hope you had a pleasant journey. I can understand that you may not travel as much as you might like.

            – No, indeed we do not. When Ferguson lost his leg, we were very much deterred from long distance journeys. I was always content to roam further afield wielding my torso socket and peg arms. The summer before his accident, we toured central Europe. With his amputation, walking across the room is too much.

            – You exaggerate, sir.

            – Yes, I suppose I do. Never mind. There will be more stumps in your future for you to contend with. Then you will look back at how reluctant to travel you are now and think of these as the good old days.

            – I certainly hope so, sir.

This was a very odd conversation revealing more than was appropriate in a public place. Perhaps living in such an isolated location had eroded the normal reticence common to social intercourse.

            – Ferguson, I have decided that I would prefer to wear my boots rather than the peg at our destination. Please prepare yourself to alter my socket.

            – Very good, sir. Shall I also adjust the length of your peg arms, sir?

            – I was hoping for it.

            – Boots and arms. Very good, sir.

What a very odd pair, thought Colin, sitting beside them. Like an old married couple out of love for fifty years, condemned to tolerating each other through decades of frustration. Perhaps it was merely a show put on for their private amusement and they were really the best of mates. Perry’s comment about more stumps in the future suggested there was more going on than perhaps met the eye.

 

The taxi pulled into High Street and purred to a stop outside the defunct Nepalese restaurant, dark and graffitied like its neighbour and many properties along the desolate street. Conrad hopped out first, and Ferguson joined him. Colin opened his door and placed his torso socket onto the ground, leaning it against the vehicle. He slowly gyrated his torso into a suitable position using his arm prothesis and lowered himself into the bucket. The driver extracted his crutches from the boot and he crossed the pavement to stand in front of the former restaurant. Ferguson was occupied in the back of the taxi, trying to coax Perry’s bucket onto his torso. The peg was removed and Ferguson screwed two thick black leather-covered cylinders onto Perry’s bucket. He coaxed the peg arms onto Perry’s stumps and lifted his employer out of the taxi. The peg arms were now too long and stuck out at an absurd angle like wings. Ferguson adjusted their length as Perry teetered for balance on the soles of his boots and then he was mobile. He heaved himself away from the taxi.

            – Lead the way!

Colin handed the keys to Conrad who took them in his left hook, twisted his body to the left and placed the key in the lock. He twisted his body to the right and the key rotated enough to open the lock. He repeated the action with the lower lock. He pulled the door open and the four amputees worked their way inside.

            – It is fortunate that you are both amputees because our employees here will also be amputees. You have foreknowledge of the restrictions and obstacles facing leg amputees and will be able to take them into account in your designs.

Conrad glanced at Colin, surprised by how officious he sounded. Very businesslike. Colin stumped into the restaurant.

            – That is the wall which will be demolished. The space on the other side is almost identical but it has no kitchen. A water supply, certainly, of course. What we envision is one entrance here from which there is a direct sight-line along two bars, one on the left over there and one on the right just here with counters on both sides. A cloakroom needs to be built here near the door, a rack of some kind should be sufficient. We envisage having enough space for people to take stuff with them if they want to. The kitchen is over there at the back. It is currently far too big for what we anticipate. This will be a bar, not an eaterie. And it goes without saying that the spaces between tables must be wide enough for a leg amputee with possibly two prostheses or peg legs to negotiate easily and safely.

            – I understand completely. These are completely normal requirements, in fact. Visibility, accessibility – fine. These are matters which can be determined with simple blueprints. I understand that you would like the interior to resemble something, shall we say, retro-futuristic? A vision of the future from the 1960s? How unfortunate we are that such a beautiful environment never materialised! However, it is certainly possible to create the same ambience here, I have no doubt.

His arm stumps twitched and he shifted his position.

            – Let’s see the kitchen. I assume you would like to have some kind of kitchen?

He adjusted his stance and moved towards the back of the space. Colin followed, forcing the crutches on his arm stump and empty shoulder to take the weight of his torso balancing in his bucket. Conrad kicked his stubbies into action, steadying himself by spreading his prosthetic arms wide and Ferguson surveilled the trio from behind, imagining how he would negotiate the world with such extreme disabilities. His engorged penis swelled even more at the thought. He thanked god for kilts and followed the severely disabled men deeper into the premises.

            – Ah, the plumbing is against the back wall, good. Would you prefer to keep the width of this kitchen, or its depth?

            – What do you think, Colin? Which would be more convenient?

            – I think a long space is better, so let’s keep the width and make the kitchen shallower.

            – Very good. Ferguson, make a note of that. And please take some photographs of the entire premises. They will be most useful.

Ferguson activated his phone and began scanning the kitchen with his phone’s video app. Presently he moved into the saloon and recorded its shape and size. Individual photos could be extracted from the video.

            – What I envisage is a white interior with well-spaced low tables in the middle area and standard height tables nearest to the walls. I have in mind the Tulip chair by Saarinen for seating. It has a central leg which flairs near its base and is very stable. It has red cushioning. On the other side of the bistro, we will see low armchairs sculpted of plastic, called Tomato. These will be grouped around low tables, three or four of them. None of the furniture will have any protruding element which could possibly trip someone. I will draw plans for three bars, two of them positioned diagonally and a third along the back wall with a raised floor for the use of men such as yourselves with shortened stature. Music systems will also be incorporated into the back-most bar. Does that sound like the vision you might have contemplated?

            – It sounds fascinating. Where will we source the furniture? It can’t have been manufactured for over fifty years.

            – I believe an Italian company makes reproductions to order of the original Finnish designs. They are not cheap – but much less expensive than the originals. I shall contact them and place an order. I may be able to secure an additional reduction for a bulk purchase.

Perry thrust his peg arms forward and lifted his stubbies towards the door.

            – Gentlemen, I have seen what I came to see. Ferguson, have you captured enough video?

            – I have, sir.

            – Then our work here is done. We shall now retire to our hotel and prepare for the journey home tomorrow morning.

            – You would be most welcome to visit Thirstysomething this evening at any time. All drinks on the house, of course.

            – That sounds most enticing. Thank you.

Two taxis were summoned, prosthetics shucked and stashed and the two parties dispersed to their destinations.

 

M A R C H

 

            – Con! Come and look at this!

            – What’s up?

            – Perry has sent some 3D renders of what he wants OneOff to look like.

Conrad stood in the doorway of the bathroom, a shaver in his left hook.

            – How do they look?

            – Come and see!

Conrad stumped over and rested his arm socket on Colin’s shoulder. Colin scrolled back to the beginning of the presentation and set it in motion.

            – You know, I’ve seen something similar to that before. You know Kubrick’s 2001? It’s like on the space station where the Russians are talking to the American guy.

            – Oh yeah! So it does. But look at the walls! They’re all curved. There’s not a straight line anywhere. Those chairs are really beautiful. Look at how the leg flairs! I really like those. What do you think? Shall we accept this or make Perry do another design?

            – I’d say let’s go with this. It can’t get better, only different. Ask him for a price estimate from his Italian connection and if it’s not too much, we can get started. It’s going to be expensive, though.

            – I know. But we only have to fork out once.

            – Right.

Conrad returned to the bathroom and shaved the other side of his face. He donned his right arm and pulled on some pants and wriggled into a hoody. A futuristic white and red bistro with furniture from sixty years ago for a future which never arrived, and manned by guys on peg legs. The incongruity of it made him laugh aloud.

 

Perry’s plan was approved and signed off. He contacted his Italian furniture manufacturer and placed an order for seventy Tulip chairs, fifteen low circular tables, ten of normal height, and twenty red Tomato chairs, the bill payable in instalments over two years. Builders were contracted, the Nepalese restaurant and the clothes shop became one, walls were covered in curved panelling and the gently curving bars constructed. The kitchen area was totally gutted and replaced with efficient new equipment. Nothing original remained except for the sprinkler system. OneOff was practically ready except for signage and recruitment of staff.

 

            – It’s time we found some bar staff, Con. I want to open by the end of the month..

            – Yeah, I’ve been asking Stubber and Stig if they know of anyone who might be interested. The trouble is, we can’t simply advertise for young male leg amps because that’s discrimination. Ironic, don’t you think?

            – Have the guys come up with anyone yet?

            – Yes, I have a few names, about half a dozen.

            – I wonder if they would know of others who might be interested.

            – Let’s invite them in one Saturday morning and have a chat with them. I’m pretty sure they’d know other one-legged lads. You know how it goes.

            – Yeah. OK, next Saturday at ten in Thirstysomething.

 

Conrad sent text messages to the numbers he had been given, inviting the young amputees to Thirstysomething for interviews. There were seven candidates. All seven turned up, entering via the back door as arranged. Conrad had brewed a pot of coffee and the guys sat around waiting until ten when Conrad rose onto his stubbies and welcomed them.

            – Thank you all for turning up. As you may know, Thirstysomething has been going for about a year and it’s probably not an exaggeration to say that we’re the most popular bar in town. And that’s because we have a really great crew working here who are all arm amputees. I got the idea after I lost my left arm and was sacked from my job. So my partner and I – he’s also an arm amputee – decided to start this bar where all the personnel are amps. And so far, it seems to be a big success. No complaints on that front. But we also want to expand a bit and we’ve found a really cool place on the High Street which we are currently having renovated. And we want all the bar staff to be leg amputees. I assume all of you are leg amps?

Everyone nodded and some slapped their thigh sockets.

            – The thing is, there are a couple of terms and conditions. We want all the staff to wear peg legs while at work. You don’t have to wear it on the street! Don’t worry if you don’t have one. We will supply them but they are expensive to make so the job comes with this condition. If you leave during the first year, you will be liable to pay the full price of the peg. But you get to keep it, of course, since it’s custom-made for you. If you leave during the following six months, you will be liable for half its value. The money will be deducted from your severance pay. And if I remember correctly, they cost three thousand seven hundred each. But they’re yours to keep. They’re not much use to anyone else. Everyone’s stumps are different, as you know. Any questions?

            – I wear two prosthetic legs. Is that going to be a hindrance?

            – Not at all. Do you think you can wear a peg leg and a pros?

            – I don’t see why not, really.

            – So, no problem. Are you AK or BK?

            – One of each.

            – OK. I reckon if you have the peg on your AK side, you’ll hardly notice any difference.

            – Haha! Could be!

            – Is there going to be enough time to produce all these peg legs? I must say, I’m intrigued. It sounds very exciting. I’ve always wanted a peg.

            – It’s a very interesting process. I have a scanner on loan from the guy who makes the pegs. I will scan your stumps, send him the data and he feeds it into a router which carves a block of wood into a shiny new peg leg. It takes about ten hours, so there’s plenty of time to make loads of them. I haven’t shown you the sort of pegs I’m talking about. I have some photos in my bag. Let me get it. Excuse me for a moment.

Conrad stomped off to the kitchen.

            – What do you think? Peg legs at work?

            – Sounds a bit voyeuristic to me.

            – Yeah, but at least you’ll have a job. I don’t care if people stare at me. They do anyway.

            – I think it sounds like a lot of fun. One of my mates works here and he says both the owners are really cool. And I’d love a peg. I’d wear it all the time.

            – Found them! Take a look at these old photos. You can see that this peg is shaped like a tuning fork. This outer prong goes up the outside of your leg and straps around your upper thigh. Then this shorter prong on the inside straps around your lower thigh. Your knee rests on this pad, if you have a knee, of course, and a third strap holds your stump in place. The peg has a hinge at hip level and you have a wide belt here. So that’s how it works if you have a BK stump. If you’re AK, the peg is simply a long strut widening at the top to contain your stump held on by the hinge and the belt around your waist. Also, if you’re BK but would like a similar design to this, it’s quite possible. You insert your entire leg into a long conical peg and secure it with a belt.

            – Can we choose what colour the peg is?

            – Sure, they can be painted but when you see the finished product new, you’ll probably not want to spoil its appearance. They really are beautiful sculpted pieces, works of art.

            – When are you thinking of opening? I have to give in my notice first.

            – We’re looking at April sixteenth. It’s a Friday. It’ll be a year since we opened this place. We’ll have another Happy Weekend, half price beer the whole weekend, so you may be rushed off your solitary feet. Oh, I almost forgot. You will get your peg about a week beforehand and I would like you all to practise walking on it. Personally I don’t mind if you have a limp or not but I want you all to feel safe wearing the things. OK, now I have some employment contracts here if anyone is interested in joining us in OneOff. Your wages and holidays and health benefits are all laid out so give it a good hard look and sign the thing if you’re satisfied. Now, would anyone like a beer?

Seven hands rose.

Steve Taylor, Tim Bryant, Craig Russell, Michael Clark, Louis Reed, Weston Back and Nolan Kendall read the terms and conditions, filled in their personal data and signed at the bottom. OneOff was on its way.

 

Conrad collected the papers and glanced at his watch.

            – We still have forty minutes before we open here, so I was thinking that might be enough time to scan your legs. Come round to the back. We have a small changing room and can do it there. Craig, you’re up first. Drop your trousers and take your leg off.

Craig did so and exposed a long right thigh stump.

            – Great. Now lean against the locker and hold your stump as still as possible.

Conrad held the scanner at his eye level and moved it slowly around Craig’s thigh stump. The device was taking thousands of images every second and laser-accurate measurements.

            – I need to measure the length of your leg, hold still. Done! One peg leg on the way. Put your leg back on and you’re free to go. I’ll send you a message when the peg is ready.

Thirstysomething’s weekend staff had begun to turn up, wondering what was going on. Louis rocked up and dropped his cargo pants revealing two artificial legs.

            – Which side would you prefer to wear your peg?

            – Let’s do the AK side.

            – OK. Hold still for a minute.

            – Do you think it would be possible to have a peg made for my other leg?

            – Of course it’s possible. Is that what you want?

            – I’ve seen photos of men wearing two pegs. I think I could manage it too.

            – It might be a bit unsafe at work, though. And I’ll have to charge you for it.

            – That’s fine, yeah it would be a bit precarious. I was thinking that I’d wear two when I’m not working.

            – OK, I’ll scan your other leg and the data will at least be to hand when you want it.

            – Thanks.

Trenton arrived.

            – Lou mate, what are you doing here? Good to see you!

            – Hi Trenton. I’m just measuring Louis’s stumps for a pair of peg legs. What else does it look like?

            – Hiya mate. I’m gonna be working at OneOff. Bit of a misnomer for me with two off, but who cares?

            – That great! How come you’re getting two peg legs?

            – Well, one is for work. The other is for play. I’ve always wanted to try two pegs and now I have the chance.

            – You’ve had enough practice with prossies by now, I reckon. It’ll look stunning!

            – Fifteen years legless. How time flies when you’re having fun.

            – Ha! Right, I’m set and ready. Have to get to work or the boss will throw a fit.

Conrad looked up at Trenton’s grinning face.

            – You better believe it. Michael, your turn, mate. I just realised I’m doing this in alphabetical order. Might as well carry on.

Each new member of staff had a stump scanned in turn. Tim Bryant also requested two pegs for his short BK stumps. Weston was last in the queue and offered a short left thigh stump.

            – I am certain I can use a peg even with so little stump but I’m gonna need suspenders or something to hold it securely.

            – It shouldn’t be a problem, Weston. All the pegs are custom-made anyway so small adaptations are going to be inevitable. And we’re finished.

They left the changing room and went out into the bar, where the new staff were still sitting with coffees and chatting with Thirstysomething staff.

            – I forgot to mention OneOff’s opening hours. They’re the same as for this place – Monday is free always, Tuesday to Friday from five to midnight, weekends noon to two in the morning. You get one more weekday off too and it varies, but everyone will have a rota two weeks in advance so you know your hours and who’s working with you. And I think that’s all. You’re free to leave – or stay as customers! No more free beer though, sorry! Happy hour prices, though.

Conrad spun on a stubby and stumped away towards the rear door, collecting the scanner on the way and dropping it into his carry-all. He intended uploading all the data to Philip Lee during the afternoon so work could start immediately.

 

A P R I L

 

Philip Lee had been busy. He had processed Conrad’s data and programmed his router to produce nine old-fashioned wooden peg legs. Their surfaces were treated with resin to provide durability and a high gloss finish. Each peg was a unique work of art. Lee was excited by the thought of Conrad’s handsome young staff members using them. He had a couple of pieces of wood left over and decided to throw false modesty aside and treat himself to a new pair of full-length peg legs. The short pegs he currently wore provided a leg length of only twenty-five centimetres.

 

Lee photographed each peg and sent copies to Conrad. He and Colin scrolled through the collection in awe.

            – These are phenomenal!

            – They are. Well worth the price – thirty-three thousand three hundred.

            – Well, Tim and Louis will be paying us for their second pegs. Shall we drive up again to collect them?

            – You go, Con. We can’t both afford to be absent for another whole day with OneOff almost ready. There are deliveries and all sort of things that need an eye kept on them.

            – OK, I’ll ask Lee if he’s at home tomorrow.

He would be at home and looked forward to meeting Conrad and delivering the fruits of his labour.

 

Next morning, Conrad started early and drove the three hundred kilometres to Philip Lee’s home and studio.

            – How good to see you again, Conrad! Welcome. Do come around to our atelier. The peg legs are packed ready for transport. I was expecting you to request a courier delivery.

            – Well, apart from wanting to finalize our financial transaction together, there is something I would like to discuss with you which you hinted at on our first visit.

            – Very well. Let’s go inside and James can place the package in your car. James! Would you take the peg legs to Mr Colby’s car?

            – Certainly, sir.

            – Oh, how officious he is! Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea?

            – A mug of tea would be very welcome.

            – I’ll see to it. Shall we go into the sitting room or will this be suitable?

            – The kitchen’s fine. Now first things first. How would you prefer the payment to be made?

            – Bank transfer to my company account would be perfect.

            – Very good.

Conrad activated his banking app and made the transfer, showing Lee the debit.

            – Thank you very much.

He tottered to the lower kitchen counter and fussed with a teapot. He brought over two stoneware mugs and returned for the tea.

            – What else was it you wanted to discuss? More sculpting work for me?

            – No, not yet at least. I am sure there will be more in future if you are willing to carry it out. No, I want to talk with you about your ex-army surgeon contact. More precisely, I would like to know if he would be willing to perform two disarticulations of my legs.

            – Good heavens above, that is rather drastic, don’t you think?

            – My man Colin has two disarts and uses a torso socket with stubby legs and crutches. He appears to me to be the epitome of eroticism. I wish to emulate him. I find my long thigh stumps to be a source of continual dissatisfaction and I wish to be rid of them as soon as possible.

            – I see. It seems odd to me that you should dislike having such long stumps but everyone to his own. I have your details, of course, and I shall forward them to my friend. He will certainly let you know if he is available for the operation in the near future and you will be able to work out a timetable between yourselves.

            – Thank you very much. I myself have my hands full, so to speak, for the next few weeks as we start our new bistro but I hope that I will be approaching my final body shape by late summer. I may yet decide to forgo my left arm to make it symmetrical with my right stump.

            – You would be a bilateral upper arm amputee using split hooks and mechanical elbows and sitting in a torso socket with peg arms for mobility.

            – Exactly. And I would like you to make two torso sockets with matching peg arms for us. Which reminds me, I have brought your scanner back. It’s in the car.

            – Oh good. Thank you.

            – All this is a secret from Colin, by the way. It’s not that he wouldn’t approve but I want to surprise him.

            – I understand. I shall be discrete and bear your secret in mind when I communicate with you.

            – Thank you for your hospitality. I must be off now in order to be back before opening hours.

            – Yes, of course. Please remember me to Colin. Goodbye, Conrad.

Conrad stumped over to his car, checked that the peg legs were stashed securely and removed his stubbies and arm prostheses. The return journey would be stump-powered.

 

Halfway home, he realised he had forgotten to hand back the scanner.

 

He pulled into the delivery area behind Thirstysomething at ten minutes to five and spent several minutes replacing his prostheses. He waddled inside and poked his head into the saloon.

            – Afternoon all! Is Colin around?

            – He’s at OneOff, I think. That’s where he said he’d be.

            – Oh, OK. How’re things going here, Alex? I’ve been so preoccupied with OneOff that I feel like I’ve been neglecting you.

            – Everything is fine, no worries.

            – Good to hear it. Right, I have a fairly big package in my car out the back. Can I ask for some help to get it moved inside?

            – I’ll do it.

            – Thanks Trenton. You can possibly guess what’s in the package.

            – A collection of Third Reich swizzle sticks?

            – Ha! Almost right. The guys’ pegs are ready. They can come in on Saturday morning to try them on.

            – Great! You know what I’d like? A wooden arm socket with a big old silver hook on the end like Long John Silver.

            – Well, I can make a scan and ask Lee to turn one out. I forgot to give him the scanner back. It was the reason I went up there in the first place. Yeah, you’d look cool with a big hook. OK, if you can grab that and bring it inside – it’s not too heavy, is it?

            – No it’s alright.

            – Stick it at the back of the changing room and we’ll take a look.

Conrad fetched a bread knife from the kitchen and sliced open the package. Each peg was wrapped individually in gyroid paper. The first peg emerged.

            – Wow, that looks fantastic. Look at the finish on it! Who’s it for?

A quick inspection reveal a label with the wearer’s name inside the socket.

            – This is Nolan’s. Let’s leave the others. I don’t want them to get scratched up before we even hand them over.

 

Conrad went and lifted himself onto the bench where Colin usually presided. He activated his phone and tapped out a short message which he sent to his seven OneOff employees. “Peg ready Sat 10.4. 3S0 10:00 backdoor. Con”. Within the next five minutes, three replies arrived asking if the pegs were already at Thirstysomething. Conrad thought about letting the guys have their pegs already. He didn’t want them to kick up a ruckus showing off their peg legs in the bar worked by arm amputees. But he was impressed by how enthusiastic they were and answered “Come n get em”.

 

He also wrote a brief apology to Philip Lee for not returning the scanner, especially as he had mentioned doing so shortly before departing. The sculptor replied that it was not an inconvenience if Conrad kept it safe for the time being.

 

Nolan, Louis and Steve turned up within half an hour and pressed the doorbell at the top of the steps. Trenton noticed the light and went to open the back door. Three of his future workmates ambled towards him, each carrying a large rucksack. Conrad was waiting for them by the doorway.

            – Hi guys! Nice of you to drop in! Listen – you can try the pegs on but don’t go into the saloon with them. Come back out here into the yard. There’s more room and you won’t look like a complete loser in front of the customers if you trip or something. OK?

It was OK and the three of them opened the package.

            – The one on top is Nolan’s. You’ll have to poke around for the others but you can tell by feel if it’s a BK or AK peg.

After four attempts, Steve had his LAK peg and Louis found both his AK and BK pegs. He held them, felt his knee buckle and ejaculated.

            – Oh gawd.

            – What’s up?

            – I just came!

            – Well done, you win. I’m about to cum. I bet I do before I get this peg on. Look at it!

The guys shucked their jeans and removed their corresponding prostheses, leaning them against the lockers. They sat on the central bench. Louis mopped up the worst of his mess with a bit of kitchen paper. He was working out how to put both pegs on and decided the only way was to stand up. First he tried the AK peg. He slipped his stump into the socket and felt its perfectly contoured interior. Its base was deeper than the length of his stump so there was no pressure on the end of it. He sorted out the leather strapping and drew the corset belt tight. Two more belts formed the shoulder harness, providing added security. He stood erect and alternated his weight by rocking on his prosthetic foot and the peg. He stepped forward with the peg and moved towards the back door. Holding onto the door frame, he positioned the peg onto the ground outside and lifted his prosthetic leg alongside. And he was off! Strutting along in the back yard in his t-shirt and underwear, savouring the sensation of the rigid peg and its weight. He turned and re-entered, prosthesis first, then lifting the peg up alongside.

            – So far so good. Now how am I going to get the other one on?

            – Don’t try it yet, not here. I’m not sure our insurance will cover you if you take a tumble and hurt yourself.

Louis undid the buckles, withdrew his stump from the peg and sat down thinking. Steve was ready next and copying Louis, took a couple of tentative steps. The peg’s socket felt comfortable, more so than the one on his prosthetic leg.

            – This is grand! I could get used to this. See you in a bit.

Conrad moved to the door and watched Steve’s movements. Steve swung his peg out in a semicircular trajectory and rose onto tiptoe on his natural leg. It appeared easy. He walked ten metres and turned, a huge grin on his face.

            – This is the most fun I’ve ever had! Well, almost.

            – You make it look as if you were born to it.

Nolan stepped into the yard with his right peg and brought his meat leg even. A few steps. He kicked the peg up to feel its weight and balance. Steve stood arms folded, legs akimbo watching him, a magnificent stance for a man wearing a peg leg.

            – I’m keeping this on, if you don’t mind, Con. I assume we can take these with us?

            – Sure.

            – The pros can go in my backpack. Can’t wait to see the look on my housemate’s face when I turn up on this!

            – Well, take it easy. I must admit I’m a little jealous. I should have asked for a pair of pegs to replace these leather stubbies. Oh well, it’s not too late. I’ve still got the scanner I drove for four hours to return!

            – Unless I get those disarts, he thought. Maybe his pegs could be adapted and attached to the bottom of his bucket.

 

Inside, Louis had put his AK prosthesis back on and removed his BK leg. He pulled himself erect using the BK peg as a crutch. He bent his knee and placed his short stump onto the cushioned pad between the peg’s support struts. He tightened the upper and lower thigh belts and Conrad offered to secure his stump.

            – Yes please. It feels like I might topple forward if I lean over.

            – There. Not too tight? I hope you can manage this. You look magnificent with both a pros and a peg.

            Louis shifted the peg forward and leaned onto it. The rubber ferrule held securely. He swung his prosthesis forward and leaned onto that. This time with a little momentum, the peg was easier to swing. Louis carefully negotiated the door and went back out into the yard where he managed to work up a good rhythm, flailing his arms a little. He spun around on the peg and strutted back.

            – Feels really interesting. Good fun on this flat surface. I shouldn’t like to go down a flight of stairs yet though.

            – The time will come, Louis. All of you are already used to wearing prosthetics so there shouldn’t be too much to overcome before you walk as well on the pegs.

            – Let’s hope so. I’m going to leave these here for the time being. I’ll come back in on Saturday to pick them up – or rather, my man can pick them up. I think I’ll stick to my trusty old fake legs for the rest of the week.

            

The week crawled by for the others who were excited to get their hands on their new pegs, especially after the three had already reported on their experiences with them. On Saturday at ten or shortly after, Tim, Craig, Mick and Weston arrived to finally get their pegs.

            – Look at the gloss on this! It looks like it’s covered in glass. Conrad, do you know what wood this is?

            – No, I should have asked but didn’t. But the guy who makes them says he only ever uses waste offcuts of quality wood which would otherwise be pulped. They might be different types of wood for all I know.

Tim’s pair of BK pegs were not different types of wood. They matched perfectly and looked superb together.

            – I’ll take these home and practise on them.

They just fitted into a hold-all and Tim replaced his prostheses. The other guys also took their pegs with them, impatient to try them out in private.

 

Over an hour was left before opening time, and Conrad climbed into his eMini and drove to OneOff. Colin had been there since about eight o’clock. The interior was almost complete. The furniture had arrived and been cleared through customs and was waiting for delivery in a warehouse. Colin pulled onto the pavement and stuck a wheelchair symbol on the inside of the windscreen. Locks had been converted to electronic versions so Conrad entered without trouble. He had fixed OneOff’s token onto the arm socket opposite Thirstysomething’s token. All he had to do to gain access to either premises was to raise the correct prosthesis towards the lock.

 

Colin shouted out his greetings and electricians, plasterers and kitchen installers raised their hands in recognition. Conrad didn’t require much effort to be recognised. He was the only man with two artificial arms moving on two stubbies who the workmen had ever seen and one of the most severely disabled. The only guy worse off was Colin standing motionless in his bucket with short immovable stubbies fixed to it. Colin shrugged off his arm prosthesis, slipped on his short peg arm and dragged himself across to where Conrad stood surveilling the new bistro.

            – How do you like it? The walls will be ready this weekend and then the floor can be laid. It’ll be a pale grey with pink spreckles, non-slip, high gloss and did I mention non-slip? Don’t want the guys slipping and sliding around on their pegs, not that they’ll have to do much walking about. This is still going to be self-service, right?

            – Well, it’s something we can ask the guys. I don’t mind if one or two want to be waiters and walk around serving drinks. They don’t have to carry trays. We can make some beer holders for a dozen beers or whatever and they can wander around the place handing them out to thirsty customers.

            – Oh yeah, good idea. I’ve seen that in Prague.

            – Colin, are we going to be ready on the fifteenth? Shall I contact Thingy again and ask him for some posters?

            – Thingy has got the sack and has disappeared down a very bad hole, I’m afraid. Poor bloke is drinking himself to death. But take a look at this. I was playing around on the laptop and designed this logo. What do you think? Is it too far out?

            – It is a bit hard to read I suppose, but once you know what it says, it’s fine. I quite like it. Bits missing like with OneOff’s staff. So yeah, if you like that and can live with it, I’m game. Shall we have the same company make a neon sign?

            – I was thinking of those perspex signs with the lettering gouged into them. When it’s lit from the side, the letters glow. It might look quite nice. We could order two, one for this window and one for over on the other side.

            – OK, let’s do that. I’ll give them a call and they can get on it. Have you got a decent version of that logo? I don’t want to be an arsehole and send them something too stupidly small for them to work with.

            – Yeah, I’ll mail it to your laptop. So what do you think otherwise?

            – It’s fantastic. The curved walls make it look like some kind of cocoon. Quite womblike, actually.

            – Alright, don’t get carried away. The walls will be finished this weekend, like I said, the kitchen continues next week but doesn’t interfere with anything else, the floor should be down on Thursday and dry by Saturday, so that gives us a week to plonk the tables and chairs down and that, as they say, will be that. Oh yeah, advertising. Put a huge notice up in Thirsty and on the A-frame outside and on the website. You know what the leatherguys were like once word got out. They couldn’t stay away. We might be able to do the same thing with OneOff – a word here and there and in they come. Could plaster the window here with Opening Day notices too, and take them off just before we open. I wonder if that bloke from the Gazette might like a few free beers?

            – I’ll be dipped in shit if he doesn’t. I’ll let him know and he’ll be round in a flash with his thesaurus.

            – I’d like to see him flash anywhere. Now, lover boy, do you have any other business or are you going to leave me in peace? Thirsty is open in a quarter of an hour and you know what they’re like if you’re not standing over them with a whip. Off you go. I’ll drop in later.

            – Not if we don’t open the door you won’t. OK, see ya.

Conrad rocked on his stubbies, gradually twisting his body until he faced the door and left.

 

Back at Thirstysomething, he glanced around to see if everyone was there, it being Friday when the entire staff should be present. He rapped his arm sockets on a table top and called out.

            – Listen up, everybody! OneOff is going to open very soon but before it does, I want to invite everyone for a free booze-up there on the Thursday, that’s the fifteenth, where you can meet your legless fellow workers. Colin and I both want to have the staff from both our bars to know each other and be mates so the Thursday will be a sort of opening night for the staff from both places except for… Trenton and Marc.

They looked despondent.

            – But don’t worry, you guys. You have Saturday off and are invited to the Grand Opening of OneOff.

Neither Trenton nor Marc had enjoyed a free Saturday since they started at Thirstysomething a over a year ago and were delighted with the arrangement.

            – Thursday is our quietest day. Do you think you two can manage the place?

            – Sure thing, boss!

            – Great. That’s settled then. Right, let’s open the door and let the thirsty people in.

 

Colin worked day and night at OneOff, or more accurately, he supervised the work. With half an arm fitted most of the time with a peg arm and the rest with a hook, he did little work himself but was able to direct the interior decorators towards his and his architect’s vision.

 

Two days before the grand opening for the staff, a lorry hauling a container pulled up outside OneOff. Colin dragged himself outside to supervise the unloading and returned inside where Craig and Michael as two of the least disabled new recruits had been persuaded to arrange the new furniture, after stripping the protective gyroid paper coverings from each of them. Taller tables were arranged along the walls, low tables filled the spaces between and the elegant red and white Tulip chairs placed around them. Six Tomato chairs were placed around two low tables. White anodised lighting pendants illuminated the table tops which reflected glare-free light into the room. The result did look like the set from a sci-fi film, Clockwork Orange perhaps, just as predicted.

 

Brewers and distillers delivered barrels and cases of alcohol via the underground service passage and Colin persuaded the delivery men to equip the bars with some of the products as he was a little inconvenienced. It was not their job but a glance at Colin in his bucket neutralised any protest. The bars were ready, the kitchen pristine, the interior stunning.

 

The place would be put to the test the following day.

 

Thursday, six o’clock rolled round. A group of lads stood outside a darkened OneOff. One or two might have appeared to a keen-eyed onlooker to be disabled. They seemed to be wearing a peg rather than a boot on one leg, its tip poking from their jeans cuff. Other guys huddled against the chill wind scouring the street, hands in pockets. In fact, every one of them was an amputee, several of them double amputees. They were the staff of unusual bars run by the pair of limbless men who were about to allow them inside for a Private Function , as a notice on the door announced. Conrad and Colin had promised all the new employees and most of the staff from Thirstysomething this evening in OneOff to get to know each other and see the new workplace. There was motion in the dim interior and Conrad’s figure appeared behind the door, illuminated by light from the street. He grinned and raised his left arm socket to the door locks. They released. At the same moment, Colin switched on the interior lights and the guys entered OneOff for the first time, mouths agape at what looked like the set from a science fiction film. They took in the glossy white and red furniture, the gleaming pale grey floor and the matt black ceiling space. Two bars curved away invitingly from the entrance and a third could be seen further back.

            – Welcome everyone. Colin and I are very pleased to be able to invite you to OneOff, which will be the workplace for half of you. We wanted to invite Thirstysomething’s staff along as well because this place is partly due to their hard work over the past year and they deserve a couple of beers. There is a huge pile of pizza and hamburger in the kitchen and you can freely use all the beer taps but please don’t hit the hard stuff. I see two of you are wearing your new peg legs. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind stepping forward for a short demonstration.

 

Weston and Craig kicked off their over-trousers and revealed the official OneOff uniform of shorts and peg leg. They strutted along the bar, turned and came back. The pegs made a dull thud with each step. Colin and Conrad applauded them and so did everyone else.

            – You walk very well. Was it difficult to learn to use them?

            – Not at all. It feels more secure than my ordinary prosthesis - I suppose because it’s rigid. I’ve worn it every day since last Saturday.

            – Good. Well, sit down everyone, test the chairs. If you notice anything less than optimal like a glare from the lighting or a slippery place on the floor, or whatever, let us know. And before I forget, here are your key tokens. They are active from Tuesday afternoons at three to Sunday mornings at three. It gives you access to the entrance via the freight lift, not the front door.

 

Craig sat down on one of the Tulip chairs which spun under him slightly. It was a good height and comfortable and his peg leg stuck out in front of him. He carefully turned to face the table and immediately noticed the advantage of a tabletop with one central support. His peg did not strike anything. Weston strutted to the kitchen to see what food there was and returned with a hamburger freshly grilled by a caterer.

 

So the evening continued. Leg amputees showed off their hardware to arm amputees who returned the favour. During the evening, a goodly amount of lager was served, usually by Thirstysomething’s staff because they were a little more agile and the OneOff guys were fascinated to see bar tenders with hooks. Craig and Marc seemed especially fascinated with each other’s hardware and stuck together the whole evening.

 

Passersby on the High Street were intrigued to see the new gleaming interior lit up like a beacon in the midst of a grimy neighbourhood. It piqued their interest and several crossed the road to peer in but if anyone noticed anything odd about the guests, they were too discrete to stare.

 

The evening ended at one in the morning when everyone could still walk with or without prostheses. Conrad, who had stayed sober, and Colin, who had not, descended to their car and Conrad drove them home.

 

The Big Day came. Neither Colin nor Conrad got much sleep. Colin was laying awake at five when Conrad stirred.

            – Are you awake?

            – I’ve been awake for at least an hour.

            – Oh, you should have said. So have I. Wanna bit of fun?

Conrad twisted his body so he was laying on his front. Colin pulled his torso onto Conrad’s back with his stump and gyrated his lower back until his erection found Conrad’s anus. Colin arched his back and penetrated. Conrad groaned in pleasure. Colin worked up a slow rhythm, moving his lower body, pushing on Conrad’s upper back with his stump for grip. Colin’s erection became more rigid and insistent and Conrad ejaculated into the bed sheets as Colin continued his assault. Colin came too, waited a couple of minutes as his penis slowly lost its erection and he rolled off Conrad.

            – I love you, Colin. I wish I could do the same for you without my stumps being in the way.

            – You do fine, mate. Nothing wrong with a bit of stump action.

            – I still think I prefer your stumpless action.

            – Shall we get up? Victor won’t be here or another hour.

            – No. Turn over. I want to fuck you.

Conrad lifted his sticky groin from the bed and worked his way onto Colin and returned the favour. His leg stumps resting on the bed behind him prevented the extent of movement which his straining erection craved. Conrad decided then, in the small hours of the day OneOff was due to open, that his legs must come off. He must become a torso like his mate.

 

They heard Victor enter quietly and Colin called out.

            – We’re awake in here, Vic! You can come in. Good morning.

            – Hello, boys. Oh, it looks like you’ve been having some fun. Let’s clean you up and we’ll have breakfast.

Victor fetched a couple of warm, damp towels from the bathroom and gently wiped cum from the couple’s genitals and backsides. He took fresh stump socks from a drawer and helped Colin work his torso into one. Conrad sat on the edge of the bed and lifted his stumps so Victor could place stump socks on his legs. He raised his arm stumps and Victor put socks onto them. Colin’s solitary arm stump received its sock and Victor collected the guys’ prostheses. He guided Conrad’s harness over his shoulders and guided the arm stumps into the black carbon sockets. Then he turned to Colin and positioned his prothesis.

            – Would you like the long prosthesis too?

            – No thanks, Victor. This will do. I can manage like this.

            – Yes, you manage superbly. I watch you in amazement sometimes, I really do. Now for your body socket, and which stubbies would you like, Conrad?

            – I think the black leather today, Victor. I can put them on if you hand them to me. Help Colin with his bucket.

            – OK. Lay back, Colin, while I give this a clean.

Victor sprayed alcohol into Colin’s torso socket and wiped it dry. He held the socket firmly and pressed it forward gently as Colin squirmed his way into it, the appearance of his genitals through the hole in the base finally signalling the end of the process. Victor tightened a series of velcro straps across Colin’s chest and raised him to a sitting position and lowered him to the bedroom floor. Victor crossed the room and collected Colin’s peg arm.

            – Are you ready, Conrad? Do you want any help?

            – I’m fine, thanks, Victor. Let’s have breakfast and then you can help us doff these before our shower.

            – Fine. What would you like? I have some fresh smoked salmon this morning if you would like that on open sandwiches.

            – That sounds good. A Scandinavian style breakfast is very appropriate today, don’t you think?

 

It was delicious with several mugs of black coffee. The men returned to their bedroom and shucked as many of their artificial limbs and devices as they could. Victor helped remove their stump socks and lifted the men into a hot shower, flannelling them in turn with a soapy mitt and covered them in fluffy warm towels. He carried them back into the bedroom and placed them onto low chairs.

            – Would you like fresh stump socks or are these OK for you?

            – Those will do, Victor, thanks.

Victor repeated his earlier routine and again the guys were ready for action. They stumped into the lounge and checked the timetable for the day.

 

There was little point in arriving at OneOff before about eleven. That was enough time to check everything and to get the staff ready for service. Conrad had ordered a dozen white hoodies emblazoned with the OneOff logo in red along the left arm. The staff had been asked to wear whatever comfortable shorts they favoured. That was the house uniform. With peg legs.

 

Victor stripped the bed and changed the sheets, wiped down the bathroom, took towels, stump socks and clothes to the laundry room, made more coffee for the guys. The other jobs he would do later after they had left. Conrad and Colin fretted impatiently until ten forty-five when Conrad said he could not stand waiting any longer.

            – Let’s go! You have everything you need? Phone, keys, spare hook? Are you really not going to wear the long arm? It would look better in photos. There’s bound to be photographers at some point today.

            – Oh alright, I’ll put it on.

He waddled into the bedroom assisted by his peg arm, shucked it to reveal his artificial left arm and its work hook. He spent a few minutes working the large prosthesis onto his empty shoulder and called for Conrad to come and tighten the straps. Conrad finished the process with his own hooks. The sound of steel knocking against carbon sockets was arousing for both of them.

            – I’m getting horny again.

            – No time, sorry. Otherwise I’d say go for it! I love trying to make love to you when we’re kitted out like this. I love the sounds we make and the way we can no longer feel anything with our arms or legs. It’s so very erotic.

            – It will have to wait. Now let’s go and see what our new staff look like kitted out in their pegs. Ready?

 

They hobbled to the lift, descended to the car port and climbed into the eMini. Conrad drove slowly to Central Arcade and parked in his newly rented space in the underground service tunnel. They rode up to OneOff in the freight elevator. They stood at the kitchen door looking into the saloon. Perry’s vision of the future had finally materialised. OneOff was stunningly beautiful and its Sixties aesthetic looked futuristic rather than nostalgic. They moved into the room and inspected the bars. Everything looked ready. The third bar at the back was interesting because of its raised floor. It could be worked by amputees wearing stubbies and let them maintain the same eye level as normal customers.. Otherwise there was good standing room alongside it when the other bars were busy. Conrad went to the lounge area with its grouping of bright red Tomato easy chairs. Although they were completely rigid, they were comfortable with high backs and wide arm rests. Colin managed to climb into one but had some difficulty in gaining purchase on the slick plastic with his steel hooks. He sat back and looked at Colin standing in front of him, a black prosthesis hanging useless from his right shoulder, his left artificial arm’s hook beating a nervous rhythm against his torso socket. Two cylindrical stubbies on the base of the socket enabled him to stand stable. His detached peg arm leaned against his right shoulder.

 

            – We did it, Con. Congratulations all round!

            – Are you happy, Colin?

            – I feel fantastic. How do you feel?

            – Excited. And seeing you standing there is making me moist. You look so sexy.

            – Come on, let’s make some espresso while we wait for the guys.

 

They heard the freight lift whirr into action.

            – Someone’s coming. Let’s see who it is.

The lift doors opened and Tim and Louis appeared.

            – Hi guys! You’re the first to arrive. Want some coffee?

            – We just had some, thanks. Let’s get changed first and maybe have some then.

            – There’s a pile of new hoodies in the changing room and the keys are in all the lockers, so pick one and take the key. You can stash the peg and whatever in it instead of having to lug it to and fro every day.

 

Tim and Louis had both chosen to wear pegs on the right. They stripped down to their underwear, put a brand new hoody on and removed their pegs from their bags. Tim kneeled into his and strapped it on in under a minute. He asked Louis to feed the right leg of his short cargo pants over the end of the peg, pulled his shorts up and watched Louis replace his artificial limb with a peg leg. Louis needed a harness as well as a belt to wear the peg securely and had it over his t-shirt. He found a suitable hoody, tried it on and finished dressing with Tim feeding his cutoffs’ right trouser leg onto the peg for him.

            – Ready?

            – As ready as I’ll ever be.

            – Let’s go!

They strolled into the kitchen to wordlessly ask for approval from the owners.

            – Ha! You look fantastic! Both of you. How do they feel?

            – Just fine. We’ve been wearing them at home all this week and I’ve been on the tram with it. Couldn’t sit down wearing it, but otherwise it was OK.

            – Great! Have some espresso while the others arrive. I hope you didn’t have hangovers yesterday!

            – Only a mild one, gone by lunchtime.

 

The rest of the staff arrived, singly or in pairs. Seven youngsters kitted out in white hoodies all hobbled with matching old-style rigid wooden peg legs. They looked stunning. Apart from enjoying watching them walk, Colin and Conrad would be watching how they interacted with each other. Colin wanted a foreman for OneOff and would choose the most popular guy who showed most initiative. He already had a favourite but would not mention it before hearing Conrad’s choice.

 

Midday. A small group of eager faces waited outside. Conrad rocked over to the door, unlocked it with his token and stood back to welcome his first paying customers. One or two wished to leave their coats and bags. Conrad asked them to wait just a moment as he was unfortunately not tall enough to reach the storage. He caught Steve Taylor’s eye and beckoned him. Steve strutted over.

            – Steve, do you mind being the doorman for a couple of hours? Please take these people’s coats and belongings and give them a number.

            – No, I don’t mind at all. Hello! Shall I take your coat? Here you are, Number One. Hi! Yes, I can take your bags. Yes, it’s real. No, it doesn’t hurt. Well, if you look, you can see that we’re all wearing one. Here’s your token. Have a nice stay! Hello, yes, look at the other guys along the bar there. All wearing peg legs.

Conrad turned around little by little on his leather stubbies and crossed to join Colin who had gravitated to the far corner again, just as he had in Thirstysomething.

            – Poor Steve! I asked if he could be on the door for a bit and he’s being inundated with questions and comments about the peg legs. I hope he doesn’t get annoyed by it. I’ll ask someone else to take over soon. Do you think we ought to get someone to do just the door duties?

            – Let’s see how busy we get. It could be that there won’t be the demand. Any of the bar men can hand back coats or whatever if asked. People are bound to be curious about the pegs at first, aren’t they? But the next time they come, they won’t need to ask.

            – True enough.

 

Customers preferred the lower tables, setting their drinks down as they sat. The chairs were stable but the rotating seat was a little disconcerting at first. The Tomato armchairs were occupied next and last of all the seating around the normal size tables was taken. OneOff was full in its first ninety minutes with a lively hubbub about the décor and the disabled staff, who, on the other hand, did not seem to be handicapped in any way. Conrad relieved Steve from door duties and asked Nolan to stand guard for a while. Nolan felt he was the one who was being relieved.

            – The guys aren’t visible enough. They should be on view more. I want them to be seen not hidden behind the bar all the time. Shall we go the Czech route like we said?

            – What Czech route? What is in your mind?

            – You know, the waiters walk around slowly with beers in a holder and when a customer wants a beer, he just signals and the waiter brings him one.

            – Oh, that Czech route. Well, it would probably work when we’re busy, two of them could wander round, but I wouldn’t myself like to buy a beer which has been wandering around the bar for twenty minutes if it’s not busy.

            – No. Look at Nolan. Doesn’t he look like the cat who just got the cream?

Nolan stood with his arms behind his back with his legs splayed and watched his mates with a smile.

            – I love that look they have. I suppose it’s because the peg is rigid so it encourages an erect stance. Makes it hard to slouch or fidget about.

            – Yeah, they’re a good-looking bunch. Listen, it’s Leather Night and I think one of us should be there to greet the guys. Do you want to go or shall I?

            – I’ll go. It’s easier for me with the car.

            – That’s what I was thinking. Are you going to put your leathers on?

            – Why not? They match my stubbies. I’ll come back here some time soon after midnight.

            – OK. Alex can lock up. We’ll go home from here.

 

The door opened and Mr Colin Allan stepped in.

            – Hello, son. Is the boss around?

            – Yes, over there in the far corner.

            – Thanks. Hello, you two. You’ve done it again. Good god almighty, what’s happened to you?

            – Hello Colin, do sit down. Well, first Colin lost his legs in a road accident. Then I lost my arm to a trash compactor. Then I lost my legs and Colin lost his other arm in ways which, I’m afraid, are still too raw and traumatic for us to talk about. Suffice it to say, we are now both quadruple amputees, totally reliant on prosthetics and the occasional helping hand. It’s nice to see you again. Would you like a beer?

            – That would be most kind.

Colin beckoned Louis over. Allan watched him, fascinated. He wore a peg leg and his other leg was prosthetic too.

            – Louis, would you be so kind as to bring Mr Allan a beer?

            – Of course, what would you like? Pale ale, IPA or lager?

            – Oh, a pale ale would hit the spot, thank you.

Louis turned with a little effort and set off. Colin Allan seemed bewildered.

            – Gentlemen, once again I would like to write about your latest accomplishment and its unique qualities. The article would appear in next Friday’s edition.

            – That’s very good of you. Ah, here’s your ale. Conrad here can tell you about OneOff’s origin, since it was his idea last Christmas, wasn’t it?

            – Yes. We felt that we wanted to do something new and different, not that there’s anything wrong with Thirstysomething. And we felt that we could employ other disabled young men, namely leg amputees.

Conrad gave an abridged version of the process leading to the opening. He mentioned nothing about the odd characters in the background, Daniel Perry and Ferguson, Philip Lee and James, and their limblessness. Allan was an old-style journalist and made copious notes as Conrad was talking. He asked a few questions about where such unusual furniture had come from and about future plans. He managed three more beers before excusing himself, thanking his hosts and departing, saluting Nolan at the door on the way out.

Colin noticed and beckoned to Nolan.

            – Do you want to carry on at the door or shall I ask someone else to take over?

            – I’m OK there for a while yet. But it would be more fun to be behind the bar a bit later when it picks up again.

            – Well, stay there for another half an hour and then I’ll ask someone else to take over. Are you getting tips from the customers as they leave?

            – I got a fiver from one man – bald guy with a big black beard. Maybe you noticed him. But otherwise, no.

            – OK, thanks. Con, do you think we should set a price for storing coats and stuff?

            – No, because it’s like a fine if you want to pop in with a bag of shopping or something. Lee doesn’t charge anything for his services, does he? He just seems to be able to entice people to give a gratuity. They hand over a good bit of beer money during the month. We’ll have to think of a way to let OneOff’s guys have the same chance of a bit of extra cash.

 

Marc and Trenton came in and shook hooks with Nolan and shared a quick private joke with him. Nolan took their jackets. The pair displayed their artificial arms. Lee noticed the bosses in the corner and raised a hook in greeting. They went to the bar and managed to work they way through the throng of customers.

            – Hiya! How’s it going?

            – No complaints so far. What’ll you have?

            – Couple of lagers, please mate.

Trenton paid and the pair grabbed their beers in their hooks and moved away from the bar. Conrad called them over to the corner.

            – Hi guys! Welcome to OneOff! Trenton, did you pay for that?

            – Sure. Of course I did!

            – Well, you don’t need to. Beers are on the house today. The rest of the gang had their share on Thursday night. Hey Nolan, mate!

Conrad waved at Nolan and beckoned him over.

            – Nolan, you can go back behind the bar now. Send Weston out as doorman and tell everyone quietly that men with hooks drink for free today.

            – Right!

He spun on his peg and strutted back to the bar. Weston appeared, shot an enquiring look at Conrad and pointed at the door. Conrad nodded and Weston gave a thumbs up.

 

The pair of them spent most of the afternoon watching everything and everyone from their corner vantage point. Colin needed a pee and went off to the loo. Conrad followed him shortly. Colin’s genitals would hang from the hole in his torso socket but the codpiece covering, held on by press-studs, had to be removed first. Colin could not manage it himself because his hook would not bend to the necessary angle. Conrad eased the finger of a hook under each edge and pulled. Colin rested his penis on his hook and pissed into the drain on the floor. Conrad replaced his codpiece and shorts. They rocked back to their corner.

            – Will you be OK here now? Shall I get you something to eat? Drink? No? Right, I’ll see you around midnight. Behave yourself.

Conrad stumped to the freight lift and descended to his car. He arrived at Thirstysomething soon after six with the evening’s first leather guys. He made a quick inspection of the bar, checking levels in beer tanks, liquor bottles, how full the fridge was, cleanliness of the floor and tabletops, and a quick appraisal of the staff. All were bright-eyed and appeared calm and collected. He waved a hook at two familiar leathermen and they jerked their chins at him in response. He sat in Colin’s habitual place, his stubbies poking forward under the table. He plucked his phone out of his shirt pocket and laid it flat. A message had arrived in the afternoon and Conrad wanted some privacy before answering.

 

            I understand from my friend that you wish to enquire about the special service I provide. Please use the encrypted web address below to make contact. All details must be discussed face-to-face in a mutually agreed place. Nothing should be submitted electronically.

 

Conrad used the address to reply.

            Thank you for contacting me. Please name a convenient location and time for a meeting.

He tapped a hook tip on send.

Three minutes later, a response arrived.

            Monday May 3rd Southern War Memorial 14:00

Conrad confirmed and felt pleased knowing that the process was under way. The War Memorial site was two hundred kilometres away but had ample parking and was secluded.

 

Stubber arrived shortly before nine. He used the door bell at the top of the steps and the revolving blue light alerted Frederik to open the back door for a guest.

            – Hi Stubber, good to see you.

            – Likewise, mate.

            – Is there much of a crowd in?

            – Quite a few guys at the bar.

            – Good show.

He stumped in, shouted a greeting and sat down under the window. He was soon surrounded by his leather friends and admirers. Conrad watched them, feeling a little ignored despite wearing a leather jacket and shorts himself. His hooks poked out from his jacket sleeves and he fidgeted with his phone. He knew he would feel jittery until he met the Amputator in two and a half weeks. He activated his right elbow and his right hook rose. Shrugging, he was then able to open and close the hook. Using his right prosthetic arm was always a little slow but he had had it for only nine months or so and he thought some of the difficulty lay in the differing ways his prostheses worked. Perhaps if his artificial arms worked identically, he’d be able to get into the rhythm of using them as a pair instead of favouring the left. He might even be able to do more. And there was the additional attraction of improved body symmetry. All in all, becoming a bilateral above-elbow amputee with body-powered prosthetic arms would very possibly be an improvement in quality of life. He would discuss it with Colin first. Colin had only one functioning AE prosthesis. His right arm was nominally functional but Colin found it too complicated to operate. He called it his sleeve stuffer. His left artificial arm was like the one Conrad wore on his right.

 

Conrad slipped down from his perch and went to chat with Lee at the door. He meant to ask about the gratuities which continued to accrue in generous measure for Thirstysomething’s staff. Instead he found himself asking Lee about his amputations.

            – Lee, you’ve been an amp for a few years, haven’t you?

            – It’ll be fifteen years this summer since my accident.

            – I’ve never asked you what happened. You don’t mind talking about it, do you?

            – No, I’m fine with it. I came off the back of a moped and my arms got caught up in the spokes. They were both severed there and then. I was only ten. I was off school for nine months while I had a series of operations and ended up as you see me today.

            – And how long was it before you got your prostheses?

            – That took another year. I had to undergo tests and rehabilitation and more tests. And I was growing all the time so my stumps were changing shape. I finally got a pair of arms on my twelfth birthday. They worked like these but were that horrible pink and had primitive artificial hands instead of hooks. I wore them for two years until they became too ridiculously small for me. Then I had longer pink arms until I left school. They had a hand on the left and a hook on the right. As soon as I left school, I had a new pair of carbon fibre sockets made with these Hosmer hooks and finally looked like I wanted rather than how some prosthetist thought I should look.

            – Interesting. I wasn’t even offered the choice of pink for these sockets. Black seems to be the default. I think if you’re going to have an artificial limb, it might as well look artificial instead of resembling a natural one. It rarely looks convincing.

            – No, it doesn’t.

            – Do you ever feel kind of unbalanced or lopsided by having different length arms? We’re both AE and BE and I find using both hooks together is quite a struggle. The left hook is the one I always use because I have that elbow and the right needs more attention and effort to position it properly.

            – Yeah, I know what you mean. I have the same format but reversed. I use my right hook most because I am right-handed, if you know what I mean. But I don’t have any problem activating the above-elbow arm. Don’t forget, Conrad, I’ve had these things for over half my life since I was little so I’m pretty used to them. Yours are still brand new, especially the AE. It takes time to get used to them.

            – There’s another thing. I’ve been thinking that if both my arms were the same type, above elbow, I would be more balanced and fluid using both hooks.

            – It’s possible I suppose but I don’t think they make AE prostheses for BE amps.

            – No, I was thinking of having a revision done.

            – To amputate your elbow? Wow! That’s extreme! So then you’d have two stumps the same length and the same prosthetics. I’m not sure but I should think that you would learn the same movements to use the hooks sort of symmetrically. It probably wouldn’t be easier but it might feel more balanced.

            – Yeah. Thanks, Lee. You’ve been very helpful.

            – Don’t mention it. How was OneOff, by the way?

            – It was fine. Lots of customers and the crew looks happy but, I don’t know. There’s something missing which this place has and OneOff doesn’t. I can’t put my finger on it. Oh, and the customers there don’t tip as they leave. What’s your secret? How come you rake it in?

            – Perhaps it’s my boyish charm or my pitiful disability which does the trick. And some people just want to watch me work the cash register.

            He tapped a couple of its keys.

            – Maybe you should get one for OneOff and a handsome legless guy to operate it.

            – Ha! You may be on to something there. I’ll have to ask Colin about getting a dedicated doorman. We’ve talked about it already today.

 

Conrad returned to his corner, but couldn’t face another three lonely hours so he stumped across to the bar and found a stool free and thought about how to get onto the seat. With knee-length rigid legs, jumping up was out of the question.

            – Fred, would you do me a favour? Come round here and help me get my arse onto this stool, will you?

A bearded leatherman heard him and asked if he needed a lift.

            – Yes please, mate. If you can pick me up under my armpits and hold on until I get my balance.

Fred watched as the customer lifted Conrad. He tried to steady himself on the seat but his steel hooks found no purchase on the slippery marble counter and he had no leg muscles available to move his butt to maintain his balance. He was also hopelessly top heavy.

            – This isn’t going to work. Sorry, can you get me down again? Thanks for your help.

            – Don’t mention it. Shame about that. What you need is a hard flat seat, mate.

            – Yeah, I think you’re right. Thanks anyway.

He went to the kitchen to get a mug of coffee and took it to his corner. He flicked through a few apps on his phone for a few minutes and messaged Colin. OneOff was busy and people seemed to be enjoying themselves including the staff who were also getting to know each other. Conrad complained that he was bored stiff. Colin said come back to OneOff then, you tit.

            – Alex, I have to go back to OneOff so can I ask you to lock up? We don’t want to come back here again tonight. Thanks a lot.

 

Conrad waved goodbye to the entire room and made his escape. He climbed into the eMini, drove slowly off and parked outside OneOff, remembering to stick his wheelchair symbol on the windscreen. He manoeuvred himself over the doorstep and said hi to Steve who was back on door duty. Colin was in the corner propped up standing in a chair, deep in conversation with a woman in a business suit and a guy with a professional camera around his neck. He stumped over, curious. The photographer noticed him first and moved aside slightly.

            – Ah, there you are. This is my partner Conrad Alton. Everything OK at Thirstysomething, Con?

            – Yes, weekends are always good for business. Stubber sends his best.

            – I should introduce you. Conrad, this is Liz Palmer and Zac Wilson from Modern Design magazine. They stood. Zac nodded and Ms Palmer held out her hand, taking Conrad’s hook and shaking gently.

            – Pleased to meet you, Mr Alton. We heard earlier today that OneOff had opened and drove down especially as we wanted to see it as soon as possible. We would love to run a story about this interior in particular since it is strongly influenced by design trends from six decades ago which we hope our readership will find fascinating. Your colleague has also been describing your unusual recruitment policy which I find tremendously impressive. We are waiting now until closing time when it will be possible to shoot the interior without intruding on your clients’ privacy but we hope you will consent to appear in our pages.

            – Ah, well, I’m hardly presentable…

Zac smirked.

            – You look very smart. The ambience here will reflect off your leather and result in an excellent portrait. Excuse me for asking, but would you like some help in being seated at the table? I’m sure you would be more comfortable.

            – Yes, thank you. Place me next to Colin and you can shoot a joint portrait.

Zac moved to stand in front of Conrad and bent to place his hands around Conrad’s armpits. He lifted him and walked around to seat him by Colin. Their faces were very close and they made eye contact. Zac winked.

            – There. Do you mind if I shoot a few frames?

            – No, please go ahead.

            – Just relax and behave normally. Ignore the camera.

            – Mr Alton, I understand that you were at your other premises. Is it of a similar design to OneOff?

            – Oh no, this is much more exotic. Thirstysomething has a theme from the Seventies. There is a quantity of Italian marble, smoked grey Perspex chairs, and the notorious sculptures one of which cost Colin his legs.

            – How extraordinary! It sounds fascinating. Might we visit it?

            – Of course, but tonight it will be a bit messy after the crowd leaves at two. But it will have been cleaned by eleven tomorrow morning and should be presentable for an hour until the midday customers arrive.

            – Perhaps we could run another article about your other bar in the following edition. Do I understand correctly that the staff there are also disabled?

            – That’s not the way we think of ourselves but, yes, you are correct. We are all arm amputees, some of us double amputees. Our unofficial mission is to prove that we can succeed just as well as any able-bodied person.

            – I should say rather better, Mr Alton. Modern Design has never run an item on new commercial premises with such enthusiasm. And there may now be two!

 

Zac quietly continued shooting portraits, sometimes including a hook or two. The owners’ leg amputations were not depicted. He had the hots for Conrad in his leather jacket and shorts and the amazing leather stubbies which made Zac’s erect penis twitch. He was perilously close to cumming. Ms Palmer chatted about other restaurant interiors she had seen as if it were the most interesting subject in the world. Conrad beckoned Steve Taylor over from the door and asked if he could bring a pot of coffee and a few sandwiches from the kitchen.

            – Yes, is cheese and tomato suitable?

They agreed that it was. Steve returned presently with two white enamel mugs and two cups and saucers.

            – Did you ask him for mugs?

            – No. You don’t mind, do you?

            – No, not at all. I’m just impressed with his thoughtfulness.

Coffee arrived after a few minutes with a cafetière of robusta, sugar, cream and teaspoons.

            – Would you like anything else? The food is almost ready.

            – No thank you, Steve.

A few moments later he returned with a large plate full of open sandwiches, four smaller plates and a packet of serviettes.

            – Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like.

            – Thanks, Steve.

He spun on his peg and strutted back to his position on the door and stood facing into the room watching his colleagues.

            – How remarkable. I haven’t seen such courteous and efficient service since we were in Rostock. Do you remember, Zac?

            – You mean the blond boy with the handlebar moustache? Yes, he was something special.

Zac was edging closer.

 

The last customers left just after half past one. Steve bade them good night and returned to the bar to help his mates start clearing up. Colin watched him. He had decided on OneOff’s foreman. Conrad locked the front door and announced the end of service.

            – I think we could take a few photos of the staff, perhaps standing along the bar there. They might be good if we need filler.

            – Yes, they might. Would you object?

            – No. If the boys are willing, go right ahead.

Zac set his camera to video and shot the lads strutting from one bar to the front of another. Then a series of photos of the seven standing smartly to attention, legs spread a little. They were superb examples of young manhood and Zac finally ejaculated into his underwear.

 

Colin dismissed the lads, thanking them for a successful opening day and wished them good night. Several of them removed their pegs and replaced them with their standard prosthetic limbs but three just changed their hoodies for jackets and put on a pair of over-trousers. Their pegs would stay on until bedtime.

 

Liz Palmer directed Zac in the empty saloon. Shoot the lighting, take close-ups of the Tomato armchairs, capture the floor. Zac did so and finally switched his camera back to video mode. He would shoot footage of Conrad and Colin after he lifted them down from the chairs onto the floor. He would have enough wank material to last him weeks.

 

            – We’ll be back at whatever time is most convenient for you tomorrow. We’d also like to see Thirstysomething, of course. Zac, call a cab, would you?

            – Let’s meet here at ten fifteen. The cleaners should be gone by then and the place will be presentable.

            Colin switched off the lights and the four departed.

 

Colin was so exhausted he slept in his torso socket. Conrad kicked his stubbies off and cuddled up to Colin’s torso. Victor woke them as instructed at nine, washed and fed them and assembled their constituent equipment. They were on their way by ten.

 

Liz Palmer and Zac were waiting for them when they arrived at ten past ten. Zac videoed them unobtrusively, being careful to capture Conrad’s stubbies and his efforts in removing Colin from the front seat with two hooks and attaching his peg arm. He wasn’t wearing his sleeve stuffer today.

            – Good morning! Thank you for coming so early, It’s very kind of you.

            – Our pleasure. Please don’t mention it. Let’s go inside and you can start work. We’ll try to stay out of the way but if you’d like us to move, just say so.

Yes, thought Zac, I will ask you to move, don’t worry.

Ms Palmer directed her photographer again, making sure every angle was captured, every detail of the furniture from every angle, and after thirty minutes declared their work here done.

            – It’s not far to Thirstysomething but perhaps too far to walk in the time we have available. If you don’t mind squeezing into the back of our car, we’ll give you a lift.

            – OK with me.

            – Yes, thank you, we’ll manage.

Conrad let them climb in first and lifted Colin into his seat. He sat in the driver’s seat and shucked his stubbies, completely unnecessarily.

            – Zac, would you mind holding these for a few minutes? I normally just throw them into the back when I’m driving.

Zac took the leather-covered stubbies and arranged them on his lap so that they pressed firmly against his growing erection. It was going to be another difficult morning.

 

Thirstysomething looked pristine and the journalists repeated their performance. Colin retreated to his corner and Conrad went into the kitchen. By half past eleven, they were ready. Conrad asked if they would like some coffee. Zac nodded enthusiastically and Ms Palmer thanked him. Zac walked over to the kitchen. His camera was videoing everything.

            – You have a fine place here. I’m sure Liz’ll be able to get two stories out of our visit.

            – Good. Zac, I know you’re filming me right now. I can see the red indicator light. And I hope you got enough footage yesterday, too. I don’t mind you being a devotee but I ask in the name of decency that you keep the material to yourself and don’t post it all over the net, OK?

            – Understood. Sorry, I try to be discrete. I don’t post on the net, ever.

            – That’s alright, then. Shake?

He offered a hook and Zac took it in his hand, holding it for a second or two longer than was normal.

 

They drank their coffee and departed as the Sunday shift began to arrive. At least Thirstysomething’s hook wearers had been saved from Zac’s wank collection.

 

Colin and Conrad waited long enough for all of the Sunday crew to arrive and managed a quick chat about how the opening had gone. But they wanted to get back to their new place and asked Alex to shut up shop if neither of them were present.

 

OneOff was in full swing when they arrived. Nolan was on the door and both bars were operating. There was a good crowd of customers buying their first beers and most of the tables were at least partly occupied. Including their corner table.

            – Argh, someone’s nicked our table, Colin. Where are we going to sit? Hey, I know. Follow me, please.

He stumped over to the bar along the back wall and Colin rocked his bucket forward with his peg arm behind him. Customers watched them in astonishment. Conrad managed to climb the first of three steps up to the bar and waited for Colin. Colin removed his peg arm and offered a hook to Conrad, who leant back and tried pulling his mate up. Steve pegged over quickly and offered to help and Nolan arrived to stand at his side.

            – If you can grab me under my armpit and around my waist, you can probably get me up there.

The two managed to get Colin up three steps safely and with no trouble. Conrad moved along the bar activating the pumps and other equipment.

            – Colin mate, are you OK there? Turn the music system on and you can be the DJ.

            – This control desk is a bit too high for me at the moment. I can’t bend my arm enough to reach the sensors. I need another twenty centimetres. Is there anything out the back I could stand on?

            – I’ll go and have a look. Don’t run away.

 

Conrad clambered down and stubbed off toward the kitchen and changing room. There might be some plywood or something for Colin to stand on. Then he remembered that there might be some of the old discarded worktops and cupboard drawers by the recycling post if there had not yet been a collection. He went out to take a look and saw exactly what he was looking for. A thick piece of counter and two deep drawers. He went back and asked for a volunteer or two. Steve and Michael followed him.

            – Can you bring these bits back in and put them where Colin’s sitting? We have to jack him up a bit so he can reach the music controls. Michael managed to stack the drawers on top of each other and carried them carefully back inside, through to the bar. Steve managed the large piece of old countertop. Colin dragged himself further along the bar and the guys constructed a half metre deep and metre long platform resting on two drawers. Steve stepped up onto it and thumped it a couple of times with his peg leg.

            – Feels safe enough. Shall we help you up, Colin?

            – Yes please.

Within seconds, he was standing in front of the music controls, testing the reach with his prosthesis, phone at the ready. He intended to stream some music when the system had linked to his phone. The sensor flashed green and Colin selected Music For Airports. Brian Eno’s fifty year old ambient piece filled OneOff, not loud but listenable. It was the perfect background, exactly what had been missing yesterday. Conrad caught his eye and raised his hooks into the air. It was a bilateral amputee’s version of thumbs up. Two newly arrived customers strolled around, looking at the new bar and stopped in front of Conrad. Some of the pegleggers paused to watch.

            – Hi! What can I get you?

            – Couple of lagers, please mate.

Conrad grabbed onto a glass, turned it over halfway, put it down, leaned towards it and picked it up again. The customer seemed confused and asked Anything wrong, mate?

            – No more than usual, thanks for asking. No problem.

Conrad set the tap running while he turned a second upside down beer glass the right way up. He carefully carried the full glass and placed it onto the counter in front of the customer.

            – Well, I’ll be buggered. Never seen that before.

His friend got a lager too.

            – Six sixty please. Half price beer this weekend. Card only. Thanks!

Because of the raised floor behind the counter, customers could not see that the bar tender was legless. Conrad realised what he had been missing. A bit of music and something practical to do. Now both projects were up and running, there was nothing else on the agenda to keep him occupied.

            – Colin, what would you say to the idea of me being here sort of permanently and you keeping an eye on Thirstysomething? It’s great doing a bit behind the counter again. Doesn’t it feel good to you?

            – Sure. The thing is, Con, I’m so disabled that I need help with everything. You saw how it took two guys just to get me up here. I rely on you so much for help that I don’t know if I can manage a bar on my own any longer.

            – You have Alex and the rest of the guys to lend a hand, well, you know what I mean, if you need it. You’re not alone there. I think even Alex would appreciate having the boss at hand. It’s been quite a big responsibility we’ve put on his shoulders over the past few weeks and it’s not really fair on him.

            – Yeah, I see your point. You’re right. OK, let’s give it a try. Starting Tuesday.

 

Extract from the Gazette & Advertiser, April 23rd

 

Almost a year ago, Messrs Colin Colby and Conrad Alton

opened the successful bar on Station Road, “Thirtysomething”.

Last weekend they opened their second bar in Central Arcade

and they have succeeded in surpassing themselves. Entering

“OneOff”, as the new arrival is called, is like stepping into the

future. The interior resembles an airport and the furniture is

simple but comfortable. Three bars are available, for the sale

of various beers, cocktails, wine and stronger stuff. Light meals

can be prepared to order. As with “Thirtysomething”, the entire

staff is comprised of disabled young men who present an

astonishing spectacle but despite their handicaps, provide

courteous and efficient service to customers from five to

midnight…

 

            – He misspelled Thirstysomething. Twice!

 

M A Y

 

In the evening of Sunday, May second, Conrad sent Colin a text message saying he had something to see to the next day which had suddenly come up and would be away from about ten to six. It was a lie. He was off to his secret meeting with the Amputator. No problem, answered Colin. Talk later.

 

Conrad enjoyed being behind the counter again. He had an easy way with customers, swapping banter, laughing at jokes, frowning in commiseration and the like. He was mobile enough on his stubbies and proficient enough with his hooks to handle a beer glass. But it would be short lived if he went ahead with his planned amputations. He would lose his leg stumps completely and wear a torso socket like Colin’s. And his left arm would be truncated to the same length as his right stump.

 

He would wear a shoulder harness to which two body-powered artificial arms with their mechanical elbows were attached. He would be able to preselect one of three possible angles for his forearms after which he could operate the hooks. Moving the elbows again would require great skill and concentration to keep the hooks closed. The same shoulder movements controlled both elbows and hooks and their selection was toggled by an accurately performed shrug. It would be difficult. It would be impossible to serve beer to customers again.

 

He realised that his dick had once again become erect while he was imagining his future body image. He accepted that although his brain was still not sure what it seemed to want, his libido knew well enough. He had enjoyed enough erections thinking about his impossible new artificial arms and the peg arms he would need to move around wearing his torso socket.

 

Once again, he determined to go through with his modifications.

 

Later, in the early morning hours, he lay awake next to his best mate’s legless, rounded torso with its one rigid arm stump and wanked. His leg stumps twitched and Colin stirred. Conrad waited a minute before continuing. His knob was getting sore but now he had to cum. Imagining himself making love as one legless torso to another, he ejaculated into the bed sheets and slept in the mess.

 

On Mondays, Victor had the whole day off. Conrad was up by seven, pawed his stubbies on and went to the bathroom for a quick shower. He looked in the fridge to see if Vic had left anything for breakfast and found some sandwiches wrapped in paper, and leaving half for Colin, scoffed them and called it breakfast. He drank some water instead of making coffee. Next he dressed. Fresh clean t-shirt, different shorts, stump socks on arms, harness on, stumps into sockets. Lifting his arms, he shrugged until the harness settled into a comfortable position and he was ready. He found his phone and sat on the floor reading the news. He would wait until Colin was awake before leaving. It was too early anyway. They could make coffee together.

 

What would Colin think when Conrad returned from his revision completely altered and disabled even more severely? He was doing it for Colin. No, that was a lie. He was doing it for himself because he was selfish. No, he wanted to make love to Colin in the way he deserved. He would be able to wield his penis in untried ways without his stumps. For Colin. For himself. Colin would hardly leave him. Where would he go? Who could love a legless torso? Only another legless torso. Colin called out.

            – Con, are you out there?

            – Yup. You awake?

            – Just about. Is there any breakfast?

            – Sandwiches. You want coffee?

            – Of course I want coffee! Come and give me a hand.

 

Conrad stumped back to the bedroom and plucked a fresh body stump sock from a drawer. He held it while Colin squirmed into it. Conrad slid the torso socket up as far as he could. Colin pushed his body deeper into it until his cock and balls reappeared. Conrad tightened the velcro straps. He pulled Colin gently over the edge of the bed until the socket touched the floor and then pulled his lover erect. Colin raised his stump and Conrad pushed the crutch onto it. Colin heaved himself to the bathroom, shucked the peg arm and washed using his arm stump. Clean enough, he called for help to don his prosthetic arm and the pair were ready.

 

Conrad found a tin of ground coffee from a low cupboard and tipped an approximate amount into a glass coffee pot. Five minutes later they were enjoying their first mug of the day. Conrad tried to imagine how he could possibly cope with helping Colin when he too was completely and utterly legless. The mental stream of contradictions started again.

 

            – I’ll be back tonight around six. Can you get someone here if you need something?

            – Alex has promised to be on stand-by if needed. I gave him the spare key yesterday.

            – Oh good. Where would we be without people like Alex? It looks like Victor left two lunches in the fridge. You can have mine too if you get hungry. I can pick up a burger.

            – What is it you’re going to be doing?

            – I don’t want to let on. I want it to be a surprise.

            – You are a funny bugger.

 

Conrad arrived at the Southern Memorial at twelve thirty. He left the car and stumped over to see the enormous statue commemorating the fallen and read some of the inscriptions. He returned to the car, got his phone out and read for a while, listening to music. At thirteen fifty, a Land Rover pulled in alongside and a tweedy-looking country gentleman got out and approached.

            – Good afternoon. I am looking for Mr Alton.

            – Good afternoon. I am Conrad Alton. And you would be the gentleman who provides special services.

            – I am indeed. Shall we talk? Are you able to get into my vehicle?

            – I shall try.

Conrad managed with a shove from behind. He sat in the passenger seat and watched the Amputator circle both vehicles. He was checking them with a sensor which would indicate any active recording devices. He got into his vehicle and turned to face Conrad.

            – Please turn your phone off completely. One must be cautious, you understand.

            – Yes, of course.

            – Now, what kind of amputation do you require? You seem already to have more than your fair share of them.

            – I want my leg stumps to be disarticulated from my pelvis leaving a round torso stump. And I want identical length above-elbow arm stumps, so an AE amputation of my left arm stump. I want to be able to use prosthetic arms in combination with peg arm crutches for mobility in my torso socket, or bucket as it is sometimes called.

            – It is indeed. Well, you will be restricted in your mobility but you should be able to move short distances under your own power with suitable crutches. You already have experience of an AE prosthetic arm, I see, so I need not explain their drawbacks to you. You will be able to manipulate some things after considerable rehabilitation but you will never be quick or fluid in movement. You do intend to use body powered prosthetics, I assume?

            – Yes, I do. The trusty old hooks are far more versatile than bionic hands with their built-in obsolescence.

            – You know your stuff. Now, our sculptor friend Philip tells me that you have directed a considerable amount of work his way and he has assured me that there will be more to come. Therefore I am going to offer you your three amputations at cost. The total price for you will be twelve thousand. I suggest that if you have budgeted for a greater amount that you use the money to purchase new prosthetics from Philip. You may not have realised it, but he is a skilled prosthetist. We have collaborated before. He sculpts the required sockets and my prosthetic technician adds the necessary hinges and cables and what-have-you. I have in mind a timetable of two weeks from admission to release, May the twenty-fourth to June the seventh. I hope that is a convenient time for you. Otherwise your next opportunity will be in late autumn.

 

Conrad listened to the Amputator’s melodious voice with its hint of rural accent describing radical mutilation as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

            – How will I reach your facilities?

            – You will be collected from this same spot at fourteen hundred hours and transported to the facility. Two weeks later, you will be returned to this spot at the same time and I trust that you will have arranged connecting transport. Otherwise, you will find yourself in rather a pickle.

            – It sounds most agreeable. How do I make the payment?

            – I will communicate with you using the encrypted web address we used before. I will supply an account number and will confirm receipt of your payment. Thereafter the next time we communicate will be at the facility. I have one more thing to explain to you. Due to the extreme maiming you wish for your lower body, Philip will make you an approximate socket in advance. You will supply him with a series of measurements which he can explain better than I. You will need some kind of carapace to be able to sit. The socket will have a hole for your genitals and a detachable codpiece. Two short cylinders will be fitted under the socket to be your rigid little legs. They are detachable should you wish to sit on the base of the socket. And should you decide on a pair of matching wooden arms, I suggest you discuss their manufacture with Philip. One of your stumps will remain untouched and the prosthetic limb will fit as before after your procedures are complete.

            – Who will perform the surgery?

            – I will act as surgeon. I have many decades of such amputations behind me. Your safety, from the surgical viewpoint, is assured.

            – Two weeks off work…

            – No, dear boy. The rest of your life!

 

Conrad drove back, stopping only once to buy a hamburger and to recharge his car for twenty minutes. The first thing he needed to do after getting back was contact Philip Lee to order the new torso socket. He also thought about a new pair of AE arms. Maybe he could have different pairs of various lengths. A pair with immovable stump sockets which restricted the forearms’ range of motion. A pair with short forearms, hooks barely touching across his wooden torso socket. A pair with long conical pegs instead of forearms for going out strolling. He hooked his erect penis into a more comfortable position.

 

            – Con, is that you? Hi! Did you get your business seen to?

            – Well, let’s say I’ve made a good start. I’m going to have to take some time off, maybe up to two weeks around the end of the month.

            – What on earth are you up to? I wish you’d tell me. It’s not preparations for my thirtieth, is it? Because you don’t need to make a fuss about that.

            – No it’s not that, although we will make a big fuss, don’t worry! OK, I’ll come clean. I’m having a revision done on my left arm stump. There’s something wrong with it and I want it seen to.

            – You’ve not mentioned it before. Is it painful?

            – It can be sometimes. But I want it seen to as soon as possible and the next available time is in October or later.

            – You said it was to be a surprise. That’s an odd sort of surprise but you have my blessing. But we’re going to have to decide on a foreman for OneOff who can see things are running smoothly when you’re away. I have someone in mind already but I’d like your opinion before I name any names.

            – I’ve been watching Steve Taylor. He gets on well with the customers, the rest of the guys like him, he’s very professional and I think he has enough respect that if he was foreman, the others wouldn’t have their noses put out of joint. Who were you thinking of?

            – Steve Taylor!

            – I’ll tell him tomorrow. I hope he accepts. I like him too. It would be good to work alongside him.

 

Conrad drove Colin to Thirstysomething at three on Tuesday afternoon and helped him inside and onto his customary perch in the corner. He continued to OneOff and stumped around giving the place a careful inspection, checking the cleanliness and tidiness of the interior, the condition in which the guys had left the bars on Sunday night. As he moved around, he thought about doing these things on crutches. He suddenly realised that his driving licence would have to be reclassified. That was important. He would have to be back driving soon after returning home.

 

First though, Philip Lee. He tapped out an email explaining that he would need a torso socket for himself to be ready on June the seventh at the latest to be delivered to the Amputator’s facility. He could provide only approximate measurements. A new pair of bilateral AE prostheses was also needed. Assuming the new stump was indeed identical to the first, a mirror image would suffice. He could scan his right stump easily enough. Lee could interpolate from that. A new harness would also be necessary. The forearms should be ten centimetres shorter than natural length. Please advise.

 

He slipped down from the bench and made sure he had Lee’s scanner in his locker. Trenton had mentioned wanting a wooden arm socket to attach a passive hook to. He could come via OneOff and they could do the scan today.

            – Trenton, hi! It’s Conrad. Listen, do you remember saying you’d like a wooden socket for your big hook? Well, I’m going to be sending off some orders for new gear to the maker this week and I thought we might as well get yours done too in the same batch. Can you drop in to OneOff on your way to work? Yes today. Now. Right! See you.

 

The lift door slammed and Con looked to see who might appear. It was Louis on long wooden crutches, his AK stump in a folded-up trouser leg and a peg leg on his BK side.

            – Wow, Louis! You look fantastic, mate. Come and sit down for a minute.

            – Can’t sit right now, sorry. I can stand in front of you, if that’s OK.

He thrust his crutches forward. The peg followed. After a couple of strides, he was at Conrad’s table.

            – I’ll change into my work legs in a minute, don’t worry. I’ve been one-pegged since Sunday night. I went home like this and left my other legs here. This is such a cool way of getting about. I love the way the peg is so rigid and shocking to see. My mate says I walk on it like it’s the way I was meant to be.

            – I’m glad the pegs are a success. But I wanted to ask you something. Would you accept the position of deputy foreman at OneOff? Steve Taylor will be chief and he’ll appreciate having someone else to help him keep things ticking over here. You two would be in charge of running the place if I’m not around for a while.

            – Oh, well that’s a surprise! Thank you very much. Yes, I’d like to accept that position. Steve and I are good mates.

            – I know. I’ve been watching how you all interact with each other. Well, that’s fine. I’m relieved. Don’t mention this to any of the others yet. Even Steve doesn’t know. I’ll make an announcement a bit later in the week when everyone is here.

            – OK. Thanks, Conrad. Well, I’d better get changed.

He moved his crutches back a little and repositioned the peg before turning toward the changing room. He moves so elegantly, thought Conrad.

 

A message arrived from Philip Lee.

Delighted to hear from you. All your prosthetics will be waiting for you at the facility by your departure time. For the torso socket, I need a scan of your torso as is, front and back, both sides, taken with your arms lifted above your head. Also the following measurements… The socket will have 10 cm long cylindrical stubby legs, hard rubber, removable. New arm stump will resemble the old, therefore a scan of your AE stump will suffice. Please scan your shoulders front and back for the harness fitting. The forearms will not resemble natural arms. They will be cylindrical, 5 cm in diameter 20 cm long without hooks and will be fitted with standard Hosmer 5. If natural shape required, please forward appropriate scan.

 

Conrad replied.

Excellent news. Many thanks. I have a suggestion about the codpiece covering on the torso socket. I am aroused by my prosthetic equipment and would appreciate a more accommodating codpiece. It should also be removable with my bilat AE hooks. There is an extra order - an arm socket for employee.

 

I understand. How lucky you are. I will send renders of a codpiece design for your approval. Now I await receipt of your data for the sockets. Time is of the essence.

 

Trenton appeared outside OneOff. Conrad waddled over and unlocked the door, let Trenton in and relocked it.

            – Hi Trenton. Good to see you. I have a little job for you as well, while you’re here.

            – Oh?

            – Yes. After I scan your arm, I want you to scan mine. And also do you mind if I then strip off and you scan my body, balls and all?

            – No, I don’t think that would be a problem.

            – Good! Let’s go into the changing room and do it there.

 

They did so. Trenton pulled his top and t-shirt off exposing a very hairy chest, removed his prosthesis and held out his arm stump. Conrad grasped the scanner in his hooks and moved it around the stump, capturing data from every angle.

            – OK, I get the idea. Your turn.

Trenton dressed and replaced his arm. Conrad struggled out of his hoody and shorts and kicked off his stubbies. Steve Taylor arrived.

            – Oh! I hope I’m not interrupting anything.

            – Come in, Steve. I just need a body scan. OK, let’s scan this arm stump first.

He held it out as Trenton had done and Trenton activated the scanner, moving it around capturing thousands of images per second and laser-accurate measurements of Conrad’s AE arm stump.

            – Right. Now I need you to scan me from my arse to my nips from all sides while I hold my arms up.

He raised his stumps and Trenton moved slowly around his boss several times.

            – I think that’s ready. I made sure I got you all covered.

            – Great. And one more – scan my shoulders too. Thanks, Trenton. Your arm socket will be ready by the second week in June at the latest.

            – Looking forward to wearing it. I bought a big brass hook from a flea market a while ago and I’ve wanted to have a socket for it. Well, I’d better get to work. See you. Bye Steve.

            – Bye. Use the lift! I’ll activate it for you.

Conrad waited a moment for Steve to return and invited him back in.

            – Steve, there’s something I want to ask you. Pull the door to. Right. Colin and I have been watching the way OneOff’s staff interact, trying to work out who gets on best with people and who has the most respect. And we both independently chose you. We want you to be the foreman here, a link between Colin and me when we’re not here and the rest of the guys and to do everyday ordering and arranging this and that. And you won’t have to do it all yourself because Louis will be your deputy. Will you accept the job?

            – I’d be proud to. Thank you very much, Conrad. I won’t let you down.

            – No, I don’t believe you will. I’ll call a bit of a meeting later in the week and announce it then officially to everyone so keep it under your hat for the time being. But I have to say, I’m very glad you’re with us and making an impression. Now that’s settled, would you mind helping me dress?

 

Conrad spent much of the evening at his corner table uploading terabytes of data from the scanner to Philip Lee’s server. He was also imagining new prostheses for his bicep stumps. He needed peg arm crutches to walk. They would always be essential for him, everywhere. He also need a similar pair of pegs into which he could fit prosthetics. There would be a considerable difference in socket size. Perhaps Lee had encountered this problem before and had some answer. On the other hand, a personal assistant could be with him when he travelled anywhere if he needed to swap the pegs for prosthetics. The assistant would carry the spare equipment in a carry-all. He couldn’t ask Victor to do it. He already had his hands full.

 

Then there was the torso socket. It was going to be a hefty piece of kit and quite thick, a good ten mil. His junk would be behind the removable codpiece which he had to be able to remove and replace using his new arms which might not have the accuracy of movement needed. Colin couldn’t reach his and couldn’t take a leak without someone else’s help. Conrad hoped he would not be in the same situation. The rubber legs on the bottom would be very practical but it would be convenient if they could be removed without a screwdriver and having to lie on his back while the work was done. Maybe for high days and holidays, a pair of taller peg legs could be attached to the socket and he would be able to gallop around with a pair of long crutches. Perhaps one central peg like Perry sported might be the way to go. It certainly looked distinguished on him.

 

His first prosthetic arms from Lee were going to be shocking to look at – thick wooden dowels with hooks. He reached down and hooked his erection into a new position. If he wanted a more natural shape for his forearms, he would have to find someone with a nice pair – but one would do – and persuade them to sit for a scan. Lee would incorporate the shape in the new prostheses.

 

A bleep and a flashing icon ready announced that the data upload was complete. Ten minutes later a text message from Lee thanked him for his order and announced that work would commence in the morning. There were three weeks to go.

 

On Friday ten minutes before opening, Conrad waited until all the peg leggers were present and called them into the saloon. He asked Steve to open a couple of bottles of champagne and fill some glasses.

            – Gentlemen, I have a brief announcement to make. From next Tuesday, Steve will be your foreman. It means simply that if you have any problems or questions about your job or OneOff in general when neither Colin nor myself are present, you can turn to Steve for advice or directions. He’ll take responsibility. So he’s our representative when we’re not here – and yours too. Let’s raise our glasses and wish Steve luck, wisdom and a long life!

Now, because that’s a lot of responsibility even for one very capable man, we have decided to appoint a deputy foreman who you can also dump your worries on. The deputy’s job is to ensure the place looks presentable, that the cleaners are doing their jobs properly, that the bars are kept in order and general maintenance. The deputy is Louis. Let’s drink to him and wish him patience, forbearing and understanding – and a long life!

 

Much back-slapping and joking followed. A happier bunch of young men is rarely seen. Service that evening was unusually sprightly.

 

On Sunday twenty-third, Conrad beckoned Steve over to his corner and asked him to sit down.

            – Steve, you won’t be seeing me here for a few weeks after tonight. I need some additional surgery and I will be more disabled when I return, I’m afraid. This is confidential, you understand. So I’m asking you to run OneOff for the next few weeks as if you are the owner. I have notified our bank that you are to have signature rights – that means if you need to buy stuff in, you have the right to do so, and sign for it on behalf of the company. What else was there? Let Colin know if anyone refuses your authority. I’m sure that won’t happen, but Colin is the man to turn to if it does. Any questions?

            – Not really, I’m sure we’ll manage.

            – Yes, so am I. When I return, I shall be very severely disabled but I hope to be able to sit here in the corner in case you need advice or back-up, Otherwise, I expect that despite my presence, you’ll be running the place. Or you and me together, but you’ll be doing all the physical work.

            – I’m sorry to hear about your health problems. Thank you for your trust in me. You have given us all enjoyable and decent work and everyone here respects you very highly because of it. I hope you make a speedy recovery and that we’ll see you back before long. Until then, we’ll do our best to make you proud of OneOff.

– Thanks Steve. That’s all.

Conrad was moved to tears.

 

The next morning, Conrad woke Colin at seven and the pair prepared themselves for the day ahead. Victor had agreed to assist Colin for an hour or so each evening from about eight, making sure he had everything he might need to hand. Before he left, he would remove Colin’s prosthesis and torso socket, clean them and lift Colin into bed with the voice-activated tv remote next to him. He would drop by on Monday evening. Conrad sat around fidgeting until nearly ten when he had arranged to collect Trenton from his home in order to accompany him on the journey to the Southern Memorial. Conrad would drive there, meet the Amputator, and Trenton would drive back. Conrad had amended his car insurance policy to allow Trenton as an auxiliary driver to keep everything above board. Trenton had been instructed to drive the eMini back to the same place at the same hour in two week’s time and to await Conrad’s arrival.

 

            – Right. I’m off. I’ll miss you. I hate leaving you alone for such a long time.

            – Just get yourself fit. Don’t worry about me. I’m sure Vic and I will be able to manage. Fred has promised to pick me up and bring me home every night, so there’s no need to worry about the guys at Thirstysomething running wild. Everything will be fine. Now get yourself going! I love you.

 

Conrad and Trenton sat in the car in silence. It was unusual and uncomfortable. Conrad wracked his brains trying to think of something to say but all he had on his mind was the idea of three more amputations and Colin’s shocked face. At exactly two, a Land Rover pulled in alongside and a bald man with an enormous black beard got out and approached the Mini.

 

            – Good afternoon. I’m expecting a Mr Alton.

            – That’s me.

            – Yes, good afternoon. I was instructed to expect a gentleman fitting your general description. I am to transport you to your destination. Please accompany me to my vehicle and we can be under way.

            – Right, Trenton. I’m off. See you again next month. Bye.

Trenton watched Conrad pulling himself up into the car with his hooks, failing and asking for help from the bearded guy. He lifted the pitifully disabled quadruple amputee onto the passenger seat and soon the Land Rover departed. Trenton slid over into the driving seat and headed home.

 

Fred picked Colin up at the agreed time and they motored to Thirstysomething. Fred parked around the back and enjoyed not having to walk from the car park for once. He carefully set Colin’s socket onto the ground in front of the back door, fitted the peg arm and lifted Colin over the doorstep. He waited to see how Colin managed to progress from there. He inched forwards and began to rock his body from side to side. The short legs on the socket alternated in waddling forwards. Pushed by his peg arm, Colin reached his corner and called Alex over, who lifted him into place, extracted his phone from his pocket and brought him a coffee. The boss had arrived.

 

By that time, Conrad had already had his left arm re-amputated so skilfully that the healed stump would resemble his other almost entirely. The last thing Conrad wrote was his signature absolving the Amputator’s establishment of all liability regarding the future extreme disablement.

 

            – We see ourselves as a tool which our clients wish to wield upon themselves. They need a certain specific action to be undertaken but are unable to complete it themselves. Therefore they turn to us and we are able to complete the task with the minimum of fuss and with the highest degree of excellence. No client has ever regretted the service which we provide.

The Amputator’s philosophy was well-honed. In the morning, Conrad would lose his legs for the second time.

 

He awoke midway through the next afternoon. A heavily bearded face peered at him and said Welcome back. Conrad croaked for water. The bearded guy wiped his face gently, wetted his lips and helped him drink a few sips of water from a lidded glass.

            – Are you awake? Can you understand me? Very well. The procedures have been completed successfully and you now have the body you wanted. Your torso is completely devoid of any hint of ever having had legs and your new shorter arm stump will soon be the mirror image of its twin. My name is Jamison Fincher. I am your nurse, your prosthetics technician and your rehabilitation coach. The surgeon has retired to his home and we are here together, you and I. And my assistant who sleeps while I work and vice versa. I will see to all your needs.

            – What day is it?

            – It’s Tuesday the twenty-fifth of May. You arrived here yesterday. How do you feel? Are in you in pain? Great care has been taken to ensure that all relevant nerves were permanently neutralised before the major incisions were made. It is the trauma of sudden severance of live nerves which leads to phantom pain. I can almost guarantee you will never be plagued by pain, although of course you will always feel as if you can wriggle your toes and kick your legs. Those sensations are generated in the brain. Do you have any pain now?

            – My arm feels bruised, a dull ache. But there is no feeling of an incision. It has been amputated, you say?

            – It has. Your arm stumps are a perfect match and if I may say so, look very handsome. Perfect proportions. And your lower body? Can you sense anything there?

            – I can feel my genitals. Nothing else.

            – Excellent. You will now heal for the next ten days. Every three hours, I or my companion will turn you to prevent bed sores. If you wish to eat or drink something, please say the word Alarm in a clear voice and the system will alert us. Mealtimes are at seven, twelve, five and nine. Drinks are available at any time. Non-alcoholic drinks of course. You will have to wait for your return to OneOff for those.

            – How do you know about OneOff?

            – I visited it on your opening day. I heard through the grapevine that a group of amputees was once again opening a bar. I was very impressed. Philip Lee did a wonderful job on those peg legs. And no, it was not from Mr Lee that I heard. He is the epitome of discretion as you will have realised through your contact with him.

            – More water, please.

            – We have a voice-activated video system if you would like to watch something. Shall I bring it in? I could give you your prosthetic arm but it is so difficult to operate a remote control unit with just one hook, don’t you find?

            – Yes, a tv would help pass the time.

            – Try to sleep as much as you can. Perhaps the tv will help with that.

 

Craig was asking around his OneOff colleagues if they knew of any free flats anywhere. He said his landlord was kicking him and Marc out of the flat at the end of the month and they had nowhere to go. In Thirstysomething, Marc was asking the same thing.

            – How are we supposed to find a place to live with one week’s notice?

The pair had moved into together, more accurately, Marc had moved into Craig’s flat shortly after they met for the first time at the staff get-together just before OneOff opened. They were deeply in lust with each other and worshipped each other’s stumps.

 

Colin heard what the problem was from Alex who wondered if the boss might know of a way to find a flat quickly. He didn’t but he wondered what Conrad would say if he offered the boys their spare bedroom for free in return for a bit of bum wiping. He would be more circumspect. What would Conrad think? He’d still be convalescing somewhere until it was too late to help the boys. Colin asked Marc over for a talk.

 

            – I just heard you’re being turfed out of your flat. I didn’t know you and Craig were… together.

            – Yeah, I only moved in two weeks ago.

            – I’m guessing you two don’t have a whole lot of stuff to move out. I mean furniture and pots and pans, that sort of stuff.

            – No. We have a mattress on the floor from which to watch tv, a tiny fridge and a saucepan.

            – Not even a table and chairs? Well, that doesn’t matter. Look, my mate and I, Conrad I mean, are finding it awkward to cope after our home help guy goes home at midday. I was wondering if you might consider moving into my spare room, which is a good size, rent free, on condition that you help out a couple of helpless cripples when the need arises. I mean, we’re always having to put prosthetics on and take them off again with our stumps. It would be easier if there was someone there who could just sling ’em around our shoulders or whatever.

            – Rent free, did you say? For a bit of home help? How big is this spare room?

            – Well, I was thinking that if you turned it into living space for you and Craig, it is big enough to have your own private living room there and to store your clothes and prosthetics and so on. And you could sleep on the convertible in the living room. It’s really big and comfy but it’s no good to Conrad and me. We’d never be able to open it out. And we all work the same times so we wouldn’t be waking each other up at all hours with comings and goings.

            – That sounds like a good idea, actually. Are you serious? Rent free for home help?

            – Well, we already have a home help. He helps us shit, shave and shower, makes us breakfast, does the laundry, that kind of stuff. But he goes home at noon and we don’t see him again until next day. I think it would be cool if we had someone there the rest of the time. I know you’re both amputees but not nearly so hobbled as Conrad and me. And four gays in the same flat – imagine!

            – Can I discuss it with Craig tonight? I’ll give you an answer tomorrow. Thank you very much, Colin. It sounds like a really good idea.

 

Marc snuggled up to Craig and fondled Craig’s face with his arm stump. Craig gently rotated his leg stump in Marc’s groin.

            – Have you made up your mind yet, mate?

            – Yeah. Let’s do it. Tell Colin we’ll be there on Saturday morning with our mugs and toothbrushes and spare prosthetic limbs.

Marc pushed Craig onto his front and gently penetrated his anus.

 

Timothy had seen Louis rocking up to work on crutches wearing only one peg leg and was inspired to do the same. He dug his old crutches out of his parent’s garage, pressure-washed them, replaced the ferrules and threw one BK prosthesis under his bed. He put the other into his rucksack. Tim donned both his pegs and pushed himself up. He grabbed the crutches and strutted around his ground floor bedroom, formerly the family’s dining room. He opened the French windows and went out for a walk. It was easy enough on the path, but could he manage on grass? Yes, he could. How about with just one peg? He lowered himself onto the lawn and removed his left peg leg. How the hell could he get up? He dragged himself and his crutches to the end of the garden where his father had a large wooden box for composting stray weeds. He leant the crutches against the box, held on to the edge and pulled himself up. Balancing on one peg, he picked up his crutches and positioned them into his armpits. He walked up to the house with generously sized strides, down to the bottom of the garden and back again. Yup, this was the way to be. He could walk twice as fast as on his BK legs. Surprising really how much more effective it was. He’d turn up at work like this and show off a bit in front of Louis.

 

On Saturday at ten, Craig and Marc rang Colin’s and Conrad’s doorbell. Victor answered.

            – Oh hello. You must be the new lodgers.

            – That’s right. I’m Craig the Peg and this is Marc the Hook.

            – Well, it’s lovely to see you. Come in and I’ll tell Mr Colby that you’ve arrived.

They went inside, Victor closed the door and sauntered off into the bedroom.

            – The lodgers have arrived, Colin.

            – Oh good. Can you put my peg on? Thanks.

Colin dragged himself out into the living room and saw the guys looking apprehensive.

            – Hi you two! Welcome to our home – and your home for as long as you need it.

            – Hello Colin. Thanks again for letting us come here.

            – Don’t mention it. Victor, show the boys their room. Then if you’d make us some coffee and bring us some cake, we’ll have a chat in here.

He pulled his black carbon torso socket onto the sofa with his artificial arm and waited. Victor showed the boys their room.

            – Oh god it’s enormous! Look at the size of it! It’s bigger than your old place!

            – I think you’re right.

            – Leave your bags in here, boys. You can unpack a little later. Do join Mr Colby and I will bring some elevenses.

            – Thank you, er, Mr Victor.

            – Oh just call me Victor. I shan’t be long.

He disappeared into the kitchen and the guys joined Colin on the sofa, Craig’s peg leg jutting out in front of him.

            – I’m really glad to see you wearing the peg, Craig. Conrad and I were wondering if we were going too far in making the guys wear pegs but you all seem to have taken to them like ducks to the proverbial. Did you wear it today because you thought you ought to?

            – No! I really like wearing it. I’ve been an amputee for ten years and have had three or four artificial legs but this is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed having a stump. Because I can wear a leg like this. It feels so reliable to walk on, and the way it moves is so kind of interesting.

            – Erotic?

            – Er, well, yes, it is. I often have a hard-on when I put it on during the day.

            – Same for me and Conrad. We get turned on by seeing each other kitted out. Sometime we even have a sex session wearing all our carbon arms and stubbies and this shell I’m wearing. Sorry I didn’t bother to dress today, but this body socket is decent enough. You’re not offended by it, I hope? I know it’s a bit shocking. This is how we are chez nous. You two can go naked here too. Feel free to.

            – Here is your coffee and cake, gentlemen. Please enjoy!

            – Thanks Vic. Right. What I wanted to explain is the house rules. Like I just said, you can wander around naked everywhere but you must not come into our bedroom. That’s off limits unless we invite you in. Similarly your room is your private space and no-one other than yourselves will enter it, not even Victor. So you’re responsible for keeping it clean. You can furnish it how you want – turn it into a bedroom or a living room or study. I don’t mind. But you aren’t allowed to paint or damage the walls. All of the gear we own like the music system and all the kitchen equipment is yours to use. And we’d like it if you were cool with spending time with us in this room. This can be like our common room. We have the tv and it’s yours to watch too.

            – That’s amazing. Thank you, Colin.

            – The other part of the agreement is that if Conrad or I need help with something, and we often do, that you come and help us. We won’t be asking for glasses of water in the night but a helping hand with getting our prosthetics on every day is usually needed. We are both very severely handicapped, even though Conrad has his stubbies. Just so as you know what to expect.

            – Yeah, we both know what it’s like to need a helping hand now and then. Just that here it’ll happen more often.

            – It will. So anyway, let’s have some coffee. Welcome to our home and I hope we all enjoy being together.

 

Conrad was able to sit up in bed, ringed by pillows. He continually stretched his stumps out in front of him, admiring their symmetry, fascinated with the lightness of his new stump. Jamison was attentive, patient and understanding. He had worked for the Amputator for over twenty years and had seen even more extreme procedures than Conrad’s. Several healthy young men had left the facility over the years as mere torsos, usually with their external genitals. Neither the Amputator nor Jamison paid any heed to the moral or erotic aspects of their work. It was Jamison’s job to collect the clients and ensure they left on time with whatever body configuration they had requested.

            – Good morning, Conrad. I see my colleague has prepared you for the day. Are you comfortable? I have your breakfast ready – scrambled eggs, toast and coffee. Would you like to wear your prosthesis? Just a moment while I clean it.

            – Have you heard any news from Philip Lee?

            – Strange you should ask. I had an email from him just a few minutes ago. He says he has already made arm sockets and the components for your new arm prostheses. They are ready for dispatch and should be here this afternoon. Your body socket is in progress and will take some time because of some technical reason to do with the geometry of the thing. You won’t need it until you leave and I will need to work on it only a little. I hope this time tomorrow morning I shall be able to fit you with a new pair of wooden arms.

            – I’m looking forward to that.

            – I will help you adjust to them. It may be frustrating for you to have two prostheses but finding yourself unable to use them. We shall go to the recuperation room and I’ll train you. You have some hard training before you, Conrad. When you leave here I want you to be able to write and dress yourself.

 

Tim’s appearance on crutches at OneOff wearing only one peg leg had made the other guys envious.

            – He looks so, I dunno, slick.

            – I’d love to know what that feels like.

            – I’d give my right leg to wear two pegs.

Colin soon heard from Steve that some of the guys were wishing to be double above knee amputees so they could walk on crutches and one peg.            

            – Well, if they were DAKs they wouldn’t be able to work here, would they? Louis and Tim are about as extreme as it gets with one up one down. No, Tim has both knees, doesn’t he? I don’t mind if the others want extra amputations but they have to be able to come back to work after a few weeks.

            – Someone wanted me to ask you if you knew a way to get an amputation by a surgeon, kind of secretly.

Colin looked Steve in the eye for several seconds to see if he was serious.

            – I do.

            – And can you reveal it to him or is it ultra secret?

            – It’s ultra secret but leave it with me and I’ll make some enquiries. Steve, it’s not you, is it?

            – No!

            – Thank god for that. Don’t change please.

Steve smiled, nodded, turned and strutted back to the bar.

 

Colin thought about what Steve had told him and sent a message to Philip Lee.

Extremely pleased with your peg legs as are all their users. Situation is now that some staff want more amputations. Please inform your friend of situation and advise.

 

How wonderful for the boys. I will communicate it to my friend and he will soon be in contact. I am delighted more young men are enthused by the joy of amputation.

 

Pompous old bugger, thought Colin.

 

Thank you for your consideration.

 

            – Are you awake, Conrad? I’ve brought you some breakfast. And I have some good news. Today is the day you start learning to use your new arms. Would you like some water first?

Jamison lifted Conrad from his bed and took him to the wet room. Conrad peed into the general direction of the wc and Jamison kicked the lid down. He set Conrad into a ring on an adjustable stand, holding him firmly between his nipples and belly button. Conrad twirled his stumps.

            – This feels nice. But I don’t suppose you will let me hang around here for long, will you, Jamison?

            – Certainly not. Today you start work.

            – I have to tell you, Jamison, that I am fascinated by your beard.

            – Well, thank you. To tell you the truth, I have never been more pleased by anything more than the fact that my beard grows so wide and thick.

            – It’s beautifully manly. What shall we be doing today?

            – Your arms are more or less ready. We shall do various exercises which will reveal where they can be adjusted and improved for your range of motion. At the end of the day, I want you to be able to feed yourself with hooks.

            – I’m ready for that. I want to dress myself and fix my codpiece too.

            – All in good time, Conrad. We have eight whole days to get your stumps working.

            – Do you know when I will get my socket?

            – No, I don’t. So you will have to tolerate being moved around in this apparatus. It’s more for my convenience than for your rehabilitation. Sorry, Conrad, it won’t be for long. Then you’ll have some kind of legs under you again.

 

Marc and Craig had discovered that they had to wait until Colin was ready to leave Thirstysomething before they could leave for home. Previously they had been amongst the first to be allowed to leave before closing time if the place was quiet. Now they had to wait for at least another half hour. But it wasn’t all bad. Marc helped Colin out to the street where they summoned a taxi and cruised to OneOff where Craig stood waiting for them. At home, they sat together for a while winding down until Colin announced that he was ready for bed. The guys carried him to bed, removed his torso socket and prosthetic arm and wished him good night. They returned to the living room, tugged the convertible sofa into its double bed configuration, shucked their clothes and artificial limbs and snuggled together some time after two in the morning.

 

Colin received a message from the Amputator.

I understand that you have in your acquaintance several young men who wish to divest themselves of limbs. If this is the case, please let me know how many individuals are involved and their required amputations.

He told Steve that the wannabes now had a chance to get what they wanted and asked him to collect their names and email addresses. He had no idea who amongst his staff had been so enamoured of the double peg leggers that they themselves wanted other legs off. What a strange thing amputation jealousy was, with no way to escape until succumbing to it with an amputation. Or amputations. Colin wondered how Conrad’s stump revision was progressing.

 

Steve brought Colin a neatly written list. Michael wanted his right leg off above the knee. Weston wanted his right leg off below the knee and Nolan his left. They would still all be able to work, they assured Steve, with a peg and prosthesis. If Louis could do it, so could they. Colin agreed. These guys were such a powerful force together and their enthusiasm for wearing peg legs for the rest of their lives instead of electronic plastic prostheses was impressive and endearing. He would let the Amputator know and wait for his instructions but he did not want three employees to be absent simultaneously.

 

The Amputator replied with familiar instructions. Collection at the War Memorial on these dates. Lee was contacted to be ready for new orders. He replied that he anticipated them with delight.

 

Colin had a chat with his prospective double amputees, Mick, Weston and Nolan.

            – Sit down guys, as best you can.

They arranged their peg legs under the table and listened.

            – What I am about to tell you is utterly confidential. I’m sure you understand the need to keep this absolutely secret. The way people see you in the future will be very different if they even suspect the truth. Including your family. You will be given one week’s notice to arrange your affairs so that a two week absence will not be a problem. You will be taken in two stages to a private facility, completely isolated from even internet contact, where you will have your amputations and rehabilitation. Your new wooden legs, if you want them, will be available before you leave. The price for each of you will be fifteen thousand seven hundred including the new leg. Any questions?

            – How soon can we go?

            – The window for the first, er, patient will be within three weeks. I have to say, I want only one of you to undergo new amputations at a time. He must return to work before the next goes for amputation so work out the pecking order amongst yourselves and I can set it all in motion.

            – OK thanks, boss. We’ll let you know tomorrow what we come up with. Family will be worst.

            – It always is, Nolan. It always is.

 

J U N E

 

Jamison wheeled Conrad’s torso in his contraption into the rehab room. An interesting selection of upper and lower limb prostheses waited on a shelving unit. Jamison made sure Conrad was positioned correctly and fetched his new arm prostheses. They were a dark blond wood, possibly oak. The arms were attached to a thick wooden ring in the centre of a black canvas harness. Sockets and arms had been coated with a glossy resin resulting in a glassy finish.

            – Here they are, Conrad. May I say I think you are very lucky to own such beautiful equipment. Some might pity you for your limblessness. Others will envy you for owning these. Lift your stumps up.

Jamison moved behind Conrad and held the sockets, lowering them on to the stumps.

            – OK, you can relax. Are the sockets comfortable? On the new stump too? OK, good. I’m going to take these off for a minute while I put some stump socks on you.

He did so and replaced the prostheses.

            – You already have experience with an above elbow arm and now you will have two. All the same rules apply. You’ll have noticed that these are quite a bit shorter than your old prosthetics. They’re lighter and easier to eat with. They work in exactly the same way as your AE arm. Using these means alternating between activating the elbow and activating the hook. You alternate by shrugging outwards. That’s what we are going to be practising all morning. When I say “Open your hook” or “Lower your arm”, you are going to do so without needing to think about it. It must be automatic. A shrug plus tension on the cable or simply tension. Let’s get started. Try lifting your left forearm. Good. How did it feel compared with your old prosthesis?

            – It’s smoother but I think there is more travel in this. I have to stretch further.

            – I’ll adjust that. Now raise your right arm to forty-five degrees and hold it.

            – That feels exactly right, perfect. And very smooth again.

Jamison fiddled with the harness for a few moments and asked Conrad to raise his left arm again.

            – Yeah, it’s better but a little bit tight.

Another adjustment.

            – And now?

            – Perfect! And both sides feel the same.

            – Now open the right hook and hold it open. Tension OK? Try raising your left forearm to the same angle and opening the hook. Tell me if there is an imbalance between the two sides.

            – If there is, I can’t feel it. Maybe it will make itself obvious when I do stuff.

Conrad’s forearms were thick cylindrical rods with hooks. A lever embedded in each forearm allowed the hook to rotate instantaneously ninety degrees. A wide button on the wrist allowed the hook to tilt instantaneously forty-five degrees inwards. Gradual controlled movement was not possible.

            Right, we can start practising with them now. Let me take you over to the table. I am going to tell you only what I want you to do. I am not going to explain to you how to do it unless you ask. Pick the knife up in your right hook. Position the knife first – that’s right. Now imagine you want to slice a tomato. Get the knife into a suitable position. Use the other hook. Lower your left arm. Now press the tip of the knife downwards.

It dropped from the hook.

            – Start again. Conrad, you will be able to do it before you leave this room. Don’t look so serious. This is fun. It’s why you chose this for yourself. Drop your left forearm.

Jamison was a friendly but relentless instructor. Conrad soon began to feel like he wanted to impress a friend with his skill rather than undertake unnatural tasks for a stranger.

 

Colin and the new lodgers were getting on well at home. Marc was with Colin for the entire twenty-four hours but there was no favouritism apparent at Thirstysomething. Marc hadn’t mentioned to the others where he was living, only that they’d found a flat. Marc and Craig became accustomed to their new hours. They went to bed at two and woke just before nine. Putting Colin to bed had become an easy ritual after work and then they could quietly make love. Victor was discrete enough to let them sleep each morning after arriving at six and crept around in the kitchen preparing their breakfasts and elevenses. He never went into the boy’s own room. That was not on his agenda although he could easily run around with the vacuum every so often, he reasoned.

 

Michael, Weston and Nolan had drawn straws to decide who would be the first to visit the Amputator. They worked out an arrangement where they would pace themselves over a period of months and each would contribute financially for their mate’s new amputation. Twelve or thirteen thousand was a bit steep for a one time payment, but they all felt they could find four thousand every couple of months even if it meant surviving on noodles.

 

Nolan would go first for his LBK chop. Having inherited money from a grandparent, he did not need to borrow money from the others. Departure day was Monday the fourteenth. Trenton would drive him to Southern Memorial and meet him a fortnight later.

 

Jamison was relentless with Conrad.

            – Pick the mug up in your left hook and bring it to your lips. Don’t tip it! You see the problem? You cannot change the angle of your forearm to prevent the drink from sloshing out. What are you going to do with drinks, Conrad? Think!

            – I could use a straw. Or a container with a lid might work. One of those things with a spout that sports cyclists use.

            – Yes. Get yourself some of those. I’ve got one around here somewhere you can practise with. Ah, here it is. We’ve put rubber bands around it for better grip with a hook. Try that.

Conrad grasped the container in his left hook and brought its spout to his mouth.

            – Now put it down and do it with your right hook.

He did so, after first rotating the container to a suitable position by nudging it.

            – OK. Let’s do it again with some water in it.

 

Later in the day, Conrad was going through the motions of eating with a knife and fork, drinking with the special container and picking up plates. Jamison announced that it was time for supper. He put French fries and fish fingers into an air fryer and peas into a microwave oven. In the meantime, Conrad continued to train his shoulder muscles in their new functions, enjoying seeing his hooks silently opening and closing, operating each hook independently or both together and alternating between hook and elbow operations. It was not yet automatic but he felt vastly more confident than earlier in the day. He realised he was already more versatile with his new hooks than with his old pair. Jamison served the meal and watched as Conrad speared the fries with a fork and worked them towards his mouth, tried with same with fish fingers with varying success and gave up altogether on the peas.

            – You will never do that with your current prostheses, Conrad. The only way you can eat peas is to mash them first. Try it. Drop the fork. Use your hooks, that’s it, mash away! You have to use the tools available to you to get things done. You don’t have to try to do things the same way other people do them. Can you eat the fries with a hook? Yup. That might be the way to go. So well done, Conrad. You can now feed yourself. From now on, you’ll be doing so at every meal here.

Conrad beamed at his mentor. He appreciated the firm discipline. He was enjoying this latest version of his limblessness. Jamison beamed back through his enormous beard. He was impressed with the torso’s uncomplaining progress. As the few remaining days passed, Conrad mastered dressing himself, which in his case consisted of pulling on a t-shirt before donning his harness and arms, and a hoody over them. He had no need to learn to deal with shoelaces or fly zips. There would be a few hours just before Jamison drove him to the Memorial to practise inserting and removing himself from his torso socket and to manage the codpiece without help. His new gear was delivered on the evening of the sixth. Lee had also included a pair of peg arm crutches designed to be used without prosthetics. Conrad would have to choose to walk or to use his artificial arms.

 

Conrad was watching tv when Jamison knocked and entered.

            – I have something for you. I think you can guess what it is. Shall I bring it in?

            – The socket? Great! I can’t wait!

            – Your wait is over. Here it is.

Like all Lee’s creations, it was a beautifully sculptured work of art of the same wood as the arm prostheses. Extending from the ground up to Conrad’s chest with a pair of short black rubber stubbies attached with easily removable wing nuts on the base, the socket was a centimetre thick, its edges carefully rounded smooth. A pair of brown leather suspenders with velcro fastenings was riveted front and back. Best of all, the codpiece was far larger than usual. Whoever saw it would assume that although Conrad was completely legless, he still had a good sized set of junk. It attached to the socket with large press studs. Two leather loops were riveted each side of it, suitable for the steel fingers of a hook.

 

Jamison shifted Conrad’s position so that he was on his back and put the socket on the bed.

            – Let’s try this way first. You need to push down into the socket without it moving away from you. Give it a try.

Conrad squirmed his way forward using his elbows to propel himself. Jamison did him the favour of holding the socket in place. With a final effort, Conrad’s erect penis and balls poked through the hole in the front designed for them.

            – I see you are enjoying this, Conrad. Let’s see how the codpiece fits. I’ll do it this time.

The codpiece was a mere five mil thick, made of the same wood, and was as long as it was wide, fifteen centimetres. Conrad would enjoy having erections without anyone knowing.

            – You’ll need a pair of shorts or cut-offs to fit over the socket. The short legs on the base will prevent you from dragging the socket itself along the ground but they can be removed if you want to be in a normal chair. In future, you could have a central peg leg made with a rocker foot so you could stand a little taller, perhaps, but you would need extensions to your crutches. These are matters you will have to discuss with Philip Lee later. He may have other suggestions.

 

Conrad remembered the erotic combination of Daniel Perry’s single peg leg and two peg arms.

 

            – Now let me get this off you. You should always have a stump sock on before you get into your socket. You know why. That is a challenge to do with your hooks but you will do it. We’ll practise tomorrow. There is another way for you to get into your socket. If it is standing on the floor with its rim lower than your backside, you may be able to lower yourself into it. We’ll try that tomorrow too. Also, we’ll test your peg arms first thing before you put your prosthetics on. Bear in mind that if you want to crutch anywhere, your arms must come off. You might consider how you will manage urinating. I’ll leave this socket here for you to contemplate and I’ll bring you the pegs tomorrow morning.

            – Thank you, Jamison. You don’t know how fulfilling this is for me.

            – I’m glad you’re happy. Good night.

 

Conrad slept with his wooden carapace that night, caressing it between his stumps.

 

Monday dawned. Jamison was awake before six and made some oatmeal porridge for his breakfast. There was enough left over for Conrad too if he wanted it. Jamison collected the stump socks, torso socks and peg arms Conrad would shortly need and went to rouse him. He saw Conrad trying pathetically to clutch his socket like a lover. It was almost on top of him. Soon he would be inside it.

            – Conrad mate, time to wake up. Hello. Sleep well? Let me take your socket for a moment. I’ll take you for a pee and there’s some porridge if you want it. I’ll feed you this morning as a special treat. How’d you like that?

Jamison actually wanted to hurry Conrad’s final rehab along. He had to practise donning his three stump socks and donning his prostheses. He would not otherwise have considered feeding Conrad at this stage. He lifted Conrad into the ringed contraption and wheeled him to the lavatory where Conrad relieved himself. Jamison cleaned Conrad’s eyes and face and brushed his teeth. After eating breakfast, Conrad was wide awake and raring to go.

            – The best order for you is to put your arm stump socks on first. Then the hooks. Then you should be able to get into the torso sock and finally the socket. If you then want to ambulate, you will remove your hooks and use your peg arms. I have everything here you will need. I’ll fetch your hooks in a minute but you can get started.

Conrad grabbed a stump sock between his stumps and tried using his teeth to widen its opening enough to fit a stump into. He spat the sock out onto his bed and swatted it until it was facing the right way and tried inserting a stump into it. He flattened it instead.

            – Conrad, you’ll probably need someone to help you with that until you get a dressing tree to hold the socks and prossies for you. Hold on, let me do it. Right, here are your arms.

            A seventeen minute struggle between a squirming, almost completely limbless torso and the harness followed. Conrad pushed himself up on his elbows and asked, How did I do?

            – You were pretty good, Conrad. Fortunately you are determined to succeed. Now, here’s the torso sock. Off you go. Make sure the hole for your junk is in the front otherwise you’ll have to take it off and try again.

The torso sock was a little easier to pull over his genitals but the point came when Conrad’s artificial elbows could not bend any further and he had to squirm deeper into the sock. Twenty-five minutes later, Conrad was ready for his gleaming, pristine wooden torso socket. Jamison placed it on the bed.

            – Spread the leather straps out to the sides first or you’ll get tangled in them. You pull them over your shoulders as the last stage.

Conrad hooked hold of a strap and moved the socket to the head of the bed. He swatted it until the opening faced him and the base was flush against the bedhead. He used his elbows to find the correct alignment and slowly pushed himself into the socket until he was certain he was as far as he could push.

            – I can’t get the straps over my shoulders, mate.

            – It might be the case that you don’t really need them if the socket is a tight fit. Now lock your elbows straight and try pushing yourself up.

Nine minutes later, Jamison relented.

            – I’m sorry Conrad. It‘s seems cruel but I wanted you to realise that you’ll need help with that too unless you have some kind of hoist made. I am going to place you on the floor and you can decide what to do next.

He placed his arms around Conrad’s socket and lifted him gently off the bed and lowered the torso to the floor facing the door. Conrad swung his prostheses to test ground clearance. He tested if he could reach the straps on his codpiece.

            – How does it feel, Conrad? Do you sense any areas which are squeezed too tightly? How about the base? Is it touching your stump?

            – No, I’m held up away from the base. I’m not suppose to be resting on it, am I?

            – No, you aren’t. Now, are you going to stand there all day or would you like a change of scenery?

            – Can I try the peg arms?

            – You can indeed. Take your arms off.

It didn’t take many minutes. Jamison placed one peg arm on the floor and the other leaning against the bed.

            – Now get your stumps into the sockets and you’ll be good to go.

            – Ah, have you got any suggestions how I can do this, mate? I can’t think of any way to pick that one up off the floor because I can’t bend at all. The one by the bed looks more promising but I can’t get to it.

            – That’s another thing you’ll need help with until you have a way to stash the pegs horizontally. When you move towards them, they’ll slip onto your stumps. But right now, I’ll help you. Can you turn to face me?

Conrad tried rocking his socket but it stayed in place.

            – OK, just testing. Raise your stumps in front of you and hold.

Jamison pushed the peg arms onto the remnants of Conrad’s arms. Conrad lowered the pegs to touch the ground and pushed further into them. The rounded upper edges reached his armpits and he stood beaming.

            – Ready! Let’s go!

Conrad tilted his head forward, placed the pegs slightly in front of him and tried lifting himself. He moved a couple of centimetres. He moved the peg tips further to each side and tried another step. The socket shifted more and Conrad ejaculated into his codpiece.

            – You need to have a rhythm for that method of ambulation to succeed. Start stop start stop will tire you in no time. Once you find a flow, it will be less trouble. But keep practising. Try different angles and distances. I’ll be in the next room. Come in when you’re ready and we’ll have coffee.

Forty minutes later, Jamison brewed them coffee.

            – You probably have a few questions, Conrad. What did you think of your first time?

            – I came in my codpiece.

            – Yes, I noticed. Do you not feel challenged by your new disability?

            – Of course I feel challenged! My boyfriend has been in the same situation for nearly a year. He has a rounded torso like mine, and only one arm stump. His other shoulder is empty. He can drag himself along with a crutch. I think I might buy a pair of child’s forearm crutches. These peg arms are very limiting.

            – They are, but they are very beautiful pieces. Very interesting. I hope you succeed in using them. Conrad, it is time now for you to take your leave. I will take you back to the Memorial. I hope your connection will be there waiting. You will be very vulnerable if you are alone. I suggest that we replace your prostheses and remove the stubbies from the base of your socket so you can sit in the car seat safely. Oh yes, and I will clean your codpiece for you.

            – Thank you, Jamison. You’ve been a real friend.

            – Think nothing of it.

 

At three minutes to two, their car pulled alongside Conrad’s eMini in the carpark. Jamison got out and asked Trenton if he was expecting to meet Conrad. He said he was. Conrad collected Conrad’s carry-all and peg arms and dumped them into the back of the Mini. He returned to the passenger side of his car, opened the door and carefully lifted out a very obviously completely legless figure wearing two antique-looking artificial arms with hooks. He carried him to the Mini and lowered him into the passenger seat. Trenton’s face showed horror and confusion.

            – Conrad mate, what’s happened to you? Mate, where are your legs?

            – I had some extra work done. Me and Colin are equals now. Can you do my seat belt up for me, mate? I can’t reach.

            – Christ, you’ve lost your arm too! Where are your old prossies? In the bag?

            – Yeah, I suppose so. Right, I’m all set. Shall we go? Trenton, I’m sorry if I shocked you but this is something I had to do for my sanity.

Trenton drove slowly out of the car park and headed back to town. Neither of them could think of anything to say to the other.

 

It was almost five. Colin would be at Thirstysomething with Marc. There would probably be an empty flat waiting for Conrad.

            – Shall I take you straight home or shall we go by one of the bars first?

            – Home, I think. I’m shagged out. Will you help me inside? I don’t weigh much.

            – Not funny, Conrad. I despair of you. You know where I think we should go first? To the wheelchair store. You need something to move around in.

Conrad thought about it and gave in to his friend’s suggestion.

            – OK, it might still be open if we hurry.

Trenton left the by-pass and curved into the town centre. He braked outside Morganson’s Orthotics which was still open for ten minutes. He hopped inside leaving Conrad to watch him through the plate glass display.

            – Hello, I urgently need a light, everyday wheelchair for a legless man who has two artificial arms. Nothing too high end for now.

            – This model should suffice in that case. Is that the gentleman in question in your car?

            – Yes.

            – Do ask him in and he can test the equipment.

            – OK. What time are you closing?

            – Oh, don’t worry about that. Let’s get something sorted for you first.

Trenton went back out and spoke to Conrad through the closed window.

            – He says come inside. Shall I lift you out?

            – Don’t break your hook, Trenton. I know I weigh more than what you’re supposed to carry.

            – Never mind about my hook. Come on, mate. Oh, I’ll ask the guy in the shop for help. Excuse me! Could you possibly help? My own disability is getting in the way.

            – Good afternoon, sir. Do you need help entering the shop?

            – Yes, I am currently legless.

            – Let me carry you.

Morganson was shocked to feel Conrad’s rigid body shell. Fortunately his stubbies had been removed so the flat base of the torso socket was perfect for testing wheelchair seats.

            – Could you open the door, please sir?

Morganson carried Conrad directly to the light, everyday wheelchair and placed him in it.

            – As with all our models, safety belts are now compulsory features. Its height is adjustable. Most wheelers use it across their lap but it can be raised to encircle your chest, for example. If I may make a suggestion, sir? The hooks you are wearing are not the best choice for operating a manual chair such as this. Your prosthetist will be able to supply grooved rubber fixtures which are designed for pushing directly against a chair’s tyres. I would recommend looking into acquiring a pair. And the footplates are easily removed and replaced. Is the chair comfortable, sir?

            – I really have no idea. I can not feel anything other than my socket. But I do feel secure. I don’t feel like I am going to topple. How much is this chair?

            – Seven thousand two hundred with all necessary accessories such as spare tyres and inner tubes, an electric pump, an additional cushion and brake pads. The chair itself is collapsible to store flat and the wheels are simple and fast to remove by pushing the central button.

            – What do you think, Trenton? Do you see me using a wheelchair? I never even thought of a wheelchair.

            – Con, it’s the only way I’m going to get you home.

            – OK, please charge my company account at Thirstysomething for the amount. Trenton, can you get my phone out? Thanks.

Conrad tapped his phone’s screen with his new hooks and within two minutes had become the owner of something he had never wanted or imagined using. But it felt quite good to be able to be mobile. The immobility of his body strapped into the chair was also beginning to feel horny.

 

Conrad thanked the owner, Morganson, and pushed Conrad out to the street, undid the seat belt and the two shifted Conrad’s torso back into the passenger seat. Trenton popped off the wheels, folded the chair flat as he had been shown and stashed the whole thing into the back of the car. He drove into the underground car park beneath Colin and Conrad’s flat, parked and repeated the process in reverse. Conrad sat erect in his chair, belted in for security.

            – Wait a minute, Trenton, would you? There’s a nice flat empty space down here and I want to try out this chair.

Conrad’s hooks were enough to gain friction against the tyres and he quickly learned how to stroke the wheels and change direction. He wheeled off to the far end of the garage and spun around, pumping his prosthetic arms locked at an angle.

            – This is quite fun. Thank you for suggesting it. I feel like I can manage on my own now. Can you bring my bag and the other stuff up to the flat, though? That would be a help.

 

The flat was empty. Colin and Marc got back around seven. Conrad was in the living room watching tv when they entered.

            – Hi! I’m back!

            – What the fuck? Conrad! What the fuck have you done to yourself?

            – Colin mate, we are both legless bodies with hooks. I made myself like the man I most respect in the world and I hope you approve of my new body.

            – Marc, leave us alone for a minute, will you?

Marc went into his room and shut the door.

            – Come here, you daft cunt! You didn’t have to go through all that pain for me. I loved you the way you were. Oh, you’ve had your elbow off as well! Argh, I can’t stand it!

Colin rarely showed emotion but he stood in his body socket breathing heavily and pumped cum into its base.

            – Colin? You like this? You like the way I am now?

            – There’s nothing I ever wanted more. I never dared say it. I tried to avoid thinking it. But all I ever fantasized is that you’d be as disabled as I am. Two torsos loving and fucking each other.

Conrad wept with relief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The 'A' Factory

 

J U N E   2 0 2 7

 

            – No need to cry, Conrad. I even like your wheelchair. You look regal, invincible on wheels. I love your leglessness. You don’t have any stumps, do you?

            – No, everything was taken.

            – Is your stump healed?

            – Yes, they used the electrolysis thingy. I’ll never have phantom pain. In fact, I can’t even feel the amputation.

            – You look so surprising in a wheelchair. I thought we would always use peg arms to get around.

            – Colin, it’s too much for me to swap between my arms and the crutches all the time. I think I’m going to use a chair now that I’ve tried it except when we’re walking together. Then I’ll use my peg arms. I have a new pair.

            – And new wooden prosthetics too, I see. They look very much the business.

            – They taught me how to use them. They’re so light. I can do things now I couldn’t do before.

            – They’re beautiful. You look fantastic, a legless man with wooden arms. How did you think of that?

            – By knowing you. I wanted to be more like you, Colin.

            – Just don’t go cutting off more bits. I know have only one arm stump but two fake arms look perfect on you. I love your stumps, Colin. They make you so erotic. Don’t cut more of your arms off.

 

Craig arrived home.

            – Hi guys! Whoa! Conrad in a chair. Never thought I’d seen a chair in here.

            – Hi Craig! What are you doing here? How did you get in?

            – Con, I rented out the spare room while you were away. Craig and Marc will be here for the time being. You don’t mind, do you?

            – No, of course not. Good to see you, Craig. I see you’re on your peg in public too. It looks fine on you.

            – Thanks man.

Conrad arranged his hooks so he could turn the wheels to face Craig directly.

            – As you can see, I’ve lost my legs again. No more stubbies. No stumps.  All I am is this wooden socket and a pair of artificial arms.

            – Mate, you look fantastic. Welcome back.

He went into his and Marc’s room.

 

Conrad spun himself around and went to Colin reclining on the sofa. He tried unsuccessfully to remove the seatbelt.

            – I’m stuck in this chair. I want to hug you and love you.

            – Mate, you look so good . I want to feel your skin and touch your face. Shall we ask Craig to get us to bed? That’s why they’re here. I let out the spare room in exchange for a helping hand when we need it.

            – And do they know that?

            – Oh yeah. They put me to bed every night and help me pull myself together in the morning. Otherwise I try not to bother them. If you want some help now, I can ask Craig to help.

            – I’m OK for the mo. It feels like, I don’t know – you know when you get an erection in the wrong place and you can’t get rid of it? That’s how it feels. Something enjoyable but somehow wrong. Having more amputations was wrong, I suppose. That’s what most people would think. But I am enjoying this new body, being so restricted and so disabled. I can try to spread my legs and spread my fingers and nothing happens but the feeling is there, but however much I strain, nothing happens. And that makes me horny. I always thought I’d be able to get around with peg arms but it’s such a bother to swap my arms for the pegs all the time. I like wearing these arms, these hooks. I love how they are so limiting. How I have to plan every movement. But at least I can use them right. There was a guy at the Amputator’s place who made me practise until I didn’t need to think about how to use the arms. And guess what! He was at OneOff on opening day. Bald bloke with a big bushy beard.

            – Oh yeah, I remember someone saying he was the only guy who left a tip. Do you think you’ll be using a wheelchair from now on? Would you like to see me in a chair?

            – You can give this one a go when I get out of it. You might like it. It’s a lot easier than crutching, especially for you. Shall we be wheelers instead of crutchers?

            – We can try it out. I never imagined myself in a wheelchair. I always wanted to be a very short man on rigid stubbies. That’s the way I see myself. And my one prosthetic arm, my manipulator with its steel hook. Utterly useless as a human figure but feeling so sensual when my muscles try to work limbs which aren’t there, kicking and punching with non-existent limbs.

            – You love being the way you are, don’t you, Colin? I admire you so much. Shall we go to bed?

            – Let’s wait a bit until Marc gets back. You can introduce your new self to him and welcome him home and ask if he can carry you to bed after he’s taken his jacket off.

 

Marc arrived about an hour later and saw Colin and Conrad in the common room.

            – Hi there! Conrad, you’re back! Good to see you, man! What’s with the wheelchair? Christ, you’ve lost your stumps! And you’ve got new arms. Look at you! Quite the doings! I wish I knew where you guys go for your amputations. I’d be there in a shot. I want two gryphers. Don’t tell anyone. My meat hand looks so pathetic alongside my grypher. Let me get my coat off and I’ll be back.

He went into his room and a few moments later, both the lads came out and sat down on the sofa each side of Colin, facing Conrad.

            – Would you like to sit on the sofa, Conrad? It might be a bit more comfortable.

            – Actually, it wouldn’t because I can’t feel anything through my socket. It looks like I’m sitting here in a t-shirt but I’m actually in a thick wooden socket which covers my body from balls to tits to let me sit. My stumps are gone so all I have left to sit on is my bum cheeks and they aren’t very good for support. So I have this wooden shell to hold me. It’s very comfortable, but when it comes to sitting on anything, it makes no difference.

            – Can you take your shirt off? I don’t suppose it gives you any warmth, does it? Oh man, look at that!

Conrad revealed his glossy oaken body shell and his bulging codpiece.

            – And this is me! Wooden arms, wooden body. Craig, you’re going to drool if you don’t close your mouth. But now, would you two mind lending a hand in getting me and Colin into bed? We want to watch some videos.

Like hell we do, thought Colin. Craig and Marc lifted their employers into the bathroom, brushed their teeth, held them up to pee and carried them to their bed.

            – Do you need help removing your, er… shells? What are they called?

            – Torso sockets. No thanks, Marc. It would be quicker if you did it but we like to do it ourselves. Good night, you two.

 

It was only ten in the evening but Conrad and Colin explored each other’s body sockets with their prosthetic hooks, steel on carbon fibre, steel on wood, gently knocking, tapping. It was a multiple amputee’s version of foreplay.

            – You have the most fantastic codpiece I have ever seen. It’s so big and in-your-face. And the thing is, I know you fill it. I’m gonna get one like that next time I have a new socket.

            – Why wait? I’ve still got thingy’s scanner. I can scan your stump and get an order for a new socket to him tomorrow. If you want. Do you? Shall we both have wooden sockets, Colin? Think of the noise we’ll make when we cuddle.

            – If I get a new socket, it’ll have a flat base so I can sit in a wheelchair. I liked the way you looked, mate. I can see the sense of it. Yeah, I think I’ll get a chair and whizz around in that. You know how they say “confined to a wheelchair”? I want to be confined and tied and bound to a wheelchair, Conrad. I am the wheels. I want to have wheels.

 

On the fourteenth, Trenton drove to Nolan’s home and collected him. The pair travelled to the Memorial and Nolan continued his journey with the big-bearded guy. It was the last day Nolan would have a foot. By supper time, his newly bandaged short left stump was ready and Nolan was legless. Jamison had scanned the fresh stump and the left peg ordered from Philip Lee. It was to be delivered to the facility so that Nolan could leave wearing it in combination with his right AK prosthetic leg. He spent the time imagining himself walking, what his gait would be, how he would tackle everyday obstacles. Most of all he wondered how his workmates would react to having the first AK/peg team member. Would they envy him or pity him?

 

Nolan’s peg was delivered four days after his amputation. The incision was still healing so Jamison considerately withheld telling him for the time being. The peg was of a dark wood, similar to mahogany with deep red undertones when it caught the light. It was a beautiful piece of prosthetic equipment.

 

Colin tried to open a letter which had arrived in the morning. He was unable to do it and called Conrad over.

            – See if you can open that, mate. Who sends letters these days? I can’t imagine who it could be from.

Conrad held a corner and ripped into the envelope with his other hook. He delicately plucked out its content and placed it still folded in front of Colin.

            – Oh, that’s interesting. The landlord says he has more space to rent if we want it, directly above OneOff. It used to be a boutique but he suggests constructing a staircase from OneOff to the second floor. That way customers could still access the place after the shopping centre closes at nine. Ha! What do you think? Shall we make a second level for OneOff? It’s not very big, only forty square metres. Big enough for a tiny bar and a few tables.

            – How much does he want for it?

            – Wait a minutes – only twenty percent more than what we pay now. We can do that, can’t we? Do you want a new space? Deck it out? Maybe a special place for amputees only? Charge a premium for membership to the A space?

            – What’s that?

            – The Amputee space, of course.

            – How are people going to get in after the shopping centre closes?

            – Well, since it’s directly above us, we could put in a lift. In the corner next to the back bar. ‘Amputees only’ plastered on the door to the lift. And when they get up there, it’s the best hangout in town!

            – We already have two of those, mate.

            – Yeah. How about having a lift which only works if the guy has a card which he can only get from OneOff? Make it valid for just a month until he has to renew it. Just to make sure access is restricted to amps only.

            – Well, it sounds fun and all that but what’s the point?

            – The point is that more people hear about the place through the grapevine and get amputations.

            – That’s ridiculous!

            – But you’ve seen how OneOff staff are going to the Amputator because they want to wear two peg legs. People want amputations, Con. If we have a superb bar upstairs which only amputees can get into which they all rave about, there’ll be a huge demand for amputations. We can work out an agreement with Perry and the Amputator, sort of a commission system.

            – That sounds nuts, though. I never knew anyone who wanted extra amputations before I met you. And since then I’ve had five! OK, I accept that there might be people who want to shed a limb or two. How is that going to keep a new bar going?

            – I’m sure there are already enough amps in town who might enjoy it. Instead of having normal tables and chairs, the whole area could be like that cushion thing which Philip Lee had, remember? Any leg amps could shuck their limbs and lie on the cushion. The tables would be like those slates he had.

            –Well, that sounds crazy. Let’s have the bar really close to the floor so I can work it. I could be sitting on a rail or something, sliding backwards and forwards getting people’s drinks.

            – Stop it! You’re getting me erect again.

            – In that case, let’s do it!

 

Once again, solicitors examined a new contract between the landlord and OneOff. When all was in order, Colin signed it and the forty square metre space above OneOff was theirs.

 

They hired the same contractors who had fitted the lift at home to build a small elevator at the back of the premises, just wide enough for two people to use simultaneously, enough for Conrad’s wheelchair. There was only one button to select for both up and down, and it was activated with a coded ticket issued at OneOff’s bar, valid for a month. The second floor exit was directly in front of the old boutique’s doorway, blocking it completely. The only access to the new space was via OneOff. Colin’s idea of the vast floor cushion was rejected in favour of steel mesh easy chairs around low circular steel tables. Three walls and the ceiling were coated with matte ultrablack, the fourth was covered in mirrors. Neon tubes slanting at forty-five degrees along one wall provided illumination. The marble-topped bar was as Conrad had wanted – low enough for him to work strapped to a sliding platform on rails along its three metres length. All equipment was positioned at the optimum height for Conrad to access with his limited hooks. The bar was designed around his disabilities rather than requiring Conrad to adapt. This was a space for amputees and its limbless owners were prime examples.

 

            – We haven’t got a name for it yet. How about OneOff Two? Or TwoOff?

            – I was thinking of The ‘A’ Place.

            – That sounds good. The ‘A’ Studio. ‘A’ Lounge. ‘A’ Factory.

            – Hey!  That’s it – the ‘A’ Factory. Inspiring amputations worldwide.

            – Don’t get carried away, mate.

            – Is that a good name, though? The 'A' Factory. Sounds perfectly respectable but conceals disability and despicable depravity.

            – Well, that’s what they come here for. Let’s go with that. I like it.

 

J U L Y

 

The 'A' Factory was opened on the second, a Friday. Advertising was restricted to notices standing on every table in Thirstysomething and OneOff that a new bar called The 'A' Factory for amputees only and one guest was open at OneOff.

 

Stubber rocked in to Thirstysomething with a limping, bearded leatherman via the back door shortly after it opened and saw the ad on his table.

            – What’s this all about? Amputees only? Mate, we should get ourselves down there. See if there are any of our limbless comrades in there.

            – Stubbers, mate, I want to spend time with you, not with a gang of legless motorists. Do you really want to go?

            – Well, we could drop in later just to see what’s going on.

            – OK, if you insist.

 

One or two customers had seen the new lift and the notices on their tables and asked about The 'A' Factory.

            – Well, it’s our new bar upstairs dedicated to amputee customers only. We wanted a space where they could feel welcome and be themselves.

            – Well, I’ve got a leg off and so has my friend over there. Actually, he has both off so can we go up there?

            – Yes, you can. You have to show me your prostheses first and I’ll issue you a pass to operate the lift. It works for a month.

            – Ha! Well here you are, my pylon. George, come over here!

George received the same spiel. He pulled his trouser legs up to reveal two steel pylons. Weston pressed a button under the counter and a printer issued two paper Q-code tickets the size of a credit card.

            – These are valid for a month. Don’t crumple them and you can get in there any time we’re open.

            – Shall we go and see what’s up there?

            – What have we got to lose?

            – Right. See you in a bit.

They collected their drinks and made their way over to the lift. George showed his ticket to the reader and the lift’s only button illuminated with the word up. His mate pressed it.

 

They spotted the bar immediately. In the dimensionless blackness, it sparkled. Conrad beamed at them as they approached, admiring their style of walking.

            – Good evening!  You’re the first customers of The 'A' Factory. Ah, you have drinks already. Sit down and make yourself at home!

            – Thanks, mate!

            – Drink up, George. I want to order another drink so I can watch that guy serve us drinks with hooks.

 

A quarter of an hour later, several more customers had arrived. One or two on crutches, two in wheelchairs. Conrad was the only upper limb amputee and the customers were interested to see him work. He moved along the bar always facing forward which looked odd. Conrad’s torso socket slotted onto a metal plate which he could tilt from side to side. Movement along the rail in either direction was activated by leaning that way. The ingenious system allowed Conrad to continue working despite his extreme limblessness.

 

Customers socialised amongst themselves. Several had obviously met before at rehab centres or crossed paths at prostheticians. A few knew Conrad and Colin from Thirstysomething and asked if they intended opening yet more bars.

            – I think we’ve already employed all the available amputee bar staff!

            – It’s a bit dark in here. These walls eat up the light. It’s good the mirror reflects the neon tubes. And you should get some decoration for more visual interest.

            – That sounds like a good idea. What would you suggest?

            – How about asking people to bring in their old disused or broken prostheses and hang them from the ceiling?

            – Ha! We could do that. I’ve got a pair of stubbies I don’t need and two artificial arms with hooks. Yeah, they could go up on the ceiling for safekeeping.

 

Opening evening was a success in that The 'A' Factory had been well received and customers reacted positively. It had not been more than about a third full at any time but there had been a good turnover of people and soon the word would be out. The last customers left at half past one and Conrad phoned downstairs for assistance in disengaging himself from the trolley and into his wheelchair. Tim appeared and rocked over on his BK pros and peg leg.

            – Hi Conrad! How’d it go? You ready to call it a night?

            – Hello Tim. Yup, everything was fine. A few suggestions on how to improve. Someone suggested we hang old prosthetic limbs from the ceiling.

            – That would look impressive! I have a few old legs in the bottom of my closet. You could have them if you want.

Tim helped Colin transfer to his chair and the pair of them cleared away glasses to be washed downstairs.

 

There were still a few stragglers in OneOff. Steve and Louis were tidying the bars. Conrad found Craig in the kitchen.

            – Are you ready to go, Craig? I’m ready to drop, mate. Let’s sneak out a few minutes early!

            – OK, let me just switch this thing on. I need to put my leg on too. Won’t be long.

Conrad wheeled across to Mick at the door.

            – Are you getting any tips from customers when they leave their jackets and bags and stuff?

            – Not really.

            – We should start a Peg Leg Fund. “All contributions gratefully received”. Lee at Thirstysomething rakes it in. Funny how he manages it. Well, good night. I’m off now. Steve! Will you lock up, please?

            – Sure thing!

            – Thanks. And there’s Craig. Off we go.

They summoned the freight elevator and went downstairs to the car park. Craig lifted Conrad and his chair into the eMini and sat in the passenger seat. Conrad started the car and hooked onto its control device, gently moving the car out onto the empty street and towards home.

            – I’ll need a hand in the loo before I go to bed, Craig.

            – No problem. How was The 'A' Factory?

            – I enjoyed myself. I think some of the customers were surprised to see me serving their drinks but I didn’t get any comments about being too slow, although I am.

            – We had a couple of customers in OneOff who were a bit miffed that Factory is open to amputees only.

            – Well, they can come up if they’re with an amputee.

            – Yeah, that’s what I said. One of them asked where he could have a leg off in order to join the exclusive club.

Conrad was quiet for a few moments, thinking.

            – I wonder if there’s a way to let wannabes know about the Amputator without us actually doing something illegal and immoral. I could make some enquiries to see what he thinks. And here we are, home sweet home. Grab the chair, Craig. I can drag myself into it.

            – Yep. You’re getting the hang of that.

They entered the flat and Conrad wheeled to his bedroom.

            – You can come in, Craig. Just pick me up and hold me over the loo. And I’d be happy if you brushed my teeth.

Craig carried Conrad into the bathroom and removed the codpiece. Five minutes later, devoid of arms and shell, Conrad was in bed thinking about helping to create more limblessness for willing subjects. Even Marc wanted his hand off.

 

Victor arrived as usual at six and started making breakfasts. He had been appalled at what had happened to Conrad. His employers’ stumps no longer bothered him although at first he had even avoided looking in their general direction. The foursome had arranged to eat together around nine o’clock. Marc and Craig put a tenner into the kitty each week to cover their food and were perfectly happy to let Victor make the coffee and do the dishes afterwards. Conrad was awake early and checked to see if Colin was still asleep. He was. Conrad wanted some help to get up but did not want to call out. They’d need to rig up some kind of alarm which he and Colin could activate to summon help. Something like the doorbell at Thirstysomething which set off not a bell but a flashing blue light. He would ask the boys if they would agree to have such a signal in their room. And one in the kitchen for Victor. Colin twisted his torso and coughed.

            – Are you awake? Good morning, mate. I want Victor in here, is that all right?

            – Yeah, go ahead. Can’t you sleep?

            – Not really. Victor!

            – Good morning. Oh you’re both awake. The early bird and all that. Are you ready to get up?

            – Well, I am. I think Colin wants to snooze.

Victor picked Conrad up and carried him to the bathroom to relieve himself. Conrad sat in a plastic garden chair while Victor gave him a quick sponge bath and carried him into the common room. He collected fresh stump socks from the guys’ bedroom and picked up Conrad’s torso socket. A couple of minutes later, Conrad was mostly ready.

            – All I need now is my chair and some arms. Victor, don’t bring the new ones, I want to try the old black one on my right today. I want to see if I still want it or not.

            – OK, shan’t be a sec.

Victor returned pushing the wheelchair with a disembodied arm and hook on its seat.

            – Plonk me in the chair first, eh? Then we can get the arm on. I wonder if I can wheel myself with just one hook? Have to try it. Thanks Vic. Where would we be without you?

            – Still in bed, I shouldn’t wonder.

 

By the time the others had risen and made Colin presentable, Conrad had drawn up a flowchart of how to organise amputations for customers – or staff – who claimed to want them. Direct contact with the Amputator was impossible. He used his top secret encrypted website only when he anticipated prearranged contact. Orders and enquiries first went to Philip Lee who would make a prosthesis after receiving a scan of the new stump. An order from Colin or Conrad was an automatic request to alert the Amputator with the wannabe’s phone number. The wannabe visited the War Memorial to explain his desired new configuration. An intake date was agreed. Two weeks later the patient returned by the same route with his new artificial limb.

 

It seemed logical enough, even efficient in a convoluted way. He should speak to Lee about the covert message behind orders for a new client. The less communication between them mentioning the service which the Amputator provided, the better. There was no possible harm in placing an order for a prosthetic limb, however. Maybe the inclusion of words like “with accessories” in the order could be the signal to set the process in motion. He could test the system with Marc as the guinea pig. He awkwardly wheeled his chair into the kitchen.

            – Any more coffee?

            – I’ll get some for you. Shall I pour it in your sports cup?

            – Yes please and two sugars. Marc, are you serious about wanting your hand off? You really want a second grypher?

            – Yes, I’m serious. Me and Craig have talked about it and he’s fine with me having two forearm stumps.

            – They look so neat. I love the symmetry of long hairy arms ending in rounded nubs instead of hands.

            – Yeah, I know what you mean. Well, look. If Craig is willing to work twice as hard for two weeks, we can let you go for the amputation. Would you like a conventional prosthesis like my wooden ones made for your new stump or will you just be after the grypher?

            – Just the grypher will do for the time being. I might ask your mate to make me a pair later on with ordinary hooks. But my prosthetist can get me another grypher at short notice. He works fast so I wouldn’t need long before I was back in the swing of things.

            – He’s not really my mate, but I get your point. How about Thirstysomething? You reckon two gryphers will work behind the counter?

            – Mmm, I don’t see why not, really. Using this one has worked fine.

            – Right then. One more for the chop! Let me get back to you, mate, and maybe you’ll have what you want before the end of August. Oh yeah, nearly forgot! I wanted to call for help this morning but didn’t want to wake Colin. Do you think it would be OK if we installed some kind of alarm system like in the bar, a flashing light in your room? Next to the door, maybe, out of the way. And one in the kitchen for Victor. With alert buttons in our bedroom and the bathroom.

            – Aren’t you going a bit overboard?

            – I just thought they all might be useful sometime. And we might as well get them all fitted at one time.

            – OK. Will you arrange it?

            – Yeah, I’ll fix it.

 

Nolan’s left below knee stump was shaping up very well and he had been wearing his wooden peg for a couple of days. The stump extended ten centimetres rearwards when he knelt on the peg, short enough to be easily concealed under a pair of trousers. Nolan’s problem was learning to walk on the peg with a mid-thigh AK amputation and conventional prosthetic leg on his right. With no muscles available to bounce either leg into motion, getting started was proving awkward. Jamison watched him for a few minutes and handed him a walking stick.

            – Try taking the first step by pushing on the stick. It’ll keep you stable when you tilt your pelvis. Step off with the prosthesis first, then bring the peg around. It’ll be easier when you build up some momentum. That’s it. Keep going. Does the peg feel a little long? Yeah, it’s supposed to be. Prevents your pelvis from dipping too low. You’re going to wear that peg more or less permanently now, aren’t you?

            – Yes, it’s why I wanted it. I have another for my right leg at home.

            – Is that so? And are you going to wear the two pegs together?

            – Yep. I want to walk on two peg legs with perhaps a cane. May I keep this one? It fits my hand very comfortably.

            – Yes, it’s yours. You will make quite an impression on two pegs, Nolan. I should like to see you strutting along the street, a legless man. Perhaps you might prefer to be on one peg with crutches. So many interesting combinations and you have the youth to experiment with them all for many years.

 

Two days later, Jamison drove Nolan back to the War Memorial where Trenton was waiting for him in Conrad’s car.

            – Hiya! You look fantastic with that lurch. You look very disabled.

            – Well, I’m legless, you see. It looks worse than it feels. I quite like the impression I give of being a guy with something very wrong with his legs. If I pulled the trouser legs up, it would be even more obvious.

            – But you like to be a man of mystery. OK, don’t hang about, mate. Get in and let’s get out of here. This place gives me the willies.

 

            – Have you thought about another amputation, Trenton?

            – Sort of. Knowing I can use a hook makes me fairly confident that I could use another one too. You know, don’t you, that this was no accident?

He rapped his hook against the steering wheel.

            – Oh! No, I didn’t.

            – Well, I made it look like an accident but it was all planned beforehand. I tampered with the safety features on a circular saw and stuck my hand in. Then I stuck my arm in. I had to make sure they couldn’t reattach the hand. It was in bits everywhere.

            – I didn’t know that. It must have hurt.

            – It was fairly bad but I ended up with a really good-looking stump so it was worth it. And I love having a hook.

            – I can’t imagine you without one. If you’re serious about another lop and chop, talk to Conrad.

 

Trenton drove them back to town and dropped Nolan off outside OneOff. Nolan threw his rucksack over his shoulders and rocked into the bar wielding his new walking stick and stood by the door while the other guys took a good look at him. A round of applause rang out.

            – Welcome back, matey!

Nolan wasn’t due to return to work until the following Tuesday so he ordered himself a lager and told anyone who would listen about his new peg leg. Trenton drove Conrad’s car into the underground car park and walked the short distance to Thirstysomething where he fantasized for the rest of the evening about doing everything with two hooks. Colin called him over to the corner and asked him if he would borrow Conrad’s car the next afternoon. It would probably be parked at OneOff.

            – Don’t mention it to anyone but I want you to take me to that wheelchair shop around two and help me buy one.

            – Sure, that’s easy enough. Colin, there’s something I want to talk to you about. Would I be able to keep my job if I lost my other hand and used two hooks?

            – Sure. How are you going to do that?

            – Well, I was hoping you had some advice or could help me.

            – There is a way, safe, fast and successful. Conrad is turning into the go-to guy for wannabes, so talk to him. This is utterly confidential, Trenton. No-one must suspect us of knowing anything about the growing number of amputees in this town.

            – Understood. Tomorrow at two, then.

 

Conrad was not busy. He spent an hour composing an email to Philip Lee, announcing an imminent batch of new orders and introducing the new system he had devised in his flow-chart. Lee told him to wait for a reply from the Amputator. Lee also mentioned the possibility of paying Conrad some commission for new clients. He looked forward to seeing Conrad and his man again.

 

Conrad had brought his old prosthetic limbs into The 'A' Factory. Instead of hanging them from the ceiling, he decided to arrange them artfully on one of the walls. What would be the best way? Maybe a steel mesh, painted black? It would match the furniture and make it easier to attach or remove the limbs. The whole wall might end up covered in artificial limbs. It would be a museum piece in its own right. He decided not to announce his idea to anyone. The collection would gradually grow as customers saw it and got the hint. It would be their own spontaneous creation. Conrad surfed for companies which might have mesh panels for sale and found one fairly locally which delivered. He ordered fifteen square metres of it and arranged for a delivery on Monday. He would need the help of someone who could use a ladder and hold a screwdriver. He stared at his hooks and recognised their limitations for simple DIY jobs. His wooden socket would never ascend a ladder, that was certain. But comparing his current ecstatic limblessness with the ability to use a screwdriver, he was happy to have his body in a shell and his limited hooks instead of hands.

 

A few amputees arrived for a Saturday night on the town. They had intended spending it in OneOff but when they heard about The 'A' Factory, they all requested lift passes and went upstairs. One legless guy was strapped into a wheelchair exactly like Conrad and they spent most of the evening discussing their mutual condition. The customer had been totally legless with double disarticulations since his eighteenth birthday when his spanking new Harley Davidson took him into the double rear axles of a lorry carrying car parts. The foreign driver noticed nothing for several kilometres until overtaking drivers forced him to stop and the torso of the birthday boy was extracted and flown to hospital by helicopter. As a wheeler for twelve years, he had a considerable amount of advice for Conrad about wheelchairs and home aids and was amused by Conrad’s own private railway on which he scooted back and forth fulfilling customer orders.

 

Colin told Conrad that he needed the car in the afternoon and had asked Trenton to chauffeur him. Conrad agreed as long as the car was back by evening. Colin said he was certain that it would be.

 

Once again Trenton walked from one bar to the other and collected the eMini. He returned to Thirstysomething, and secured Colin in the passenger seat. It was only a short trip to Morganson’s wheelchair emporium and the men entered the shop on one pair of legs and greeted the owner.

            – My companion recently purchased a wheelchair here. He uses prosthetic arms. Perhaps you remember?

            – I do indeed. He was fortunate enough to find exactly what he needed straight away. What can I do for you?

            – I need a similar chair which I can be strapped into and which I can operate with my one prosthetic arm. I want a manual chair, not an electric version.

            – We have a model which is operated with levers. Forward motion is generated by pumping the levers back and forth and braking by pulling either lever laterally. In your case, the chair can easily be adapted to operate from only one lever and the other can be removed. I have one such chair in stock, standard width and height, if you would be interested in testing it.

            – I would indeed.

            – It is in our stockroom and needs assembly, which should not take more than ten minutes. Please wait a moment and I will fetch it.

            – We’ll wait.

            – Colin, there’s something I wanted to ask you about. I think I heard that you have contact with someone who can arrange a voluntary amputation for a fee. I am keen to know if I could be considered to have my left arm off. I want to be a double arm amputee with body-operated hooks.

            – You too, Trenton? There’s quite a waiting list. Yes, I know someone who can arrange it. Shall I ask him to start the procedure? Will you also need new prostheses?

            – Yes. I want a pair of the wooden ones like Conrad wears. But instead of normal forearms, I want to have something really muscular-looking with hooks fixed to the ends.

            – Leave it with me, mate. Here’s comes my new wheels.

            – Sorry to keep you. As you can judge from the size of the packaging, this chair collapses quite flat. It has a seat suspension system to reduce vibration, disc brakes and is completely waterproof.

Morganson slit the package open and extracted its contents. He connected the seat to the brushed aluminium frame, bolted the front casters on, inflated the tyres and connected the push wheels.

            – As well as using the levers, this model can also be used as a normal wheelchair. Do I understand that you wish to use only the right lever?

            – Yes, I have no way of ever using the left.

            – There should be instructions here somewhere on how to adapt the mechanism to one-armed use. Let me see… here it is.

He turned the chair upside down onto the cardboard packing and set about the drive mechanism with an Allen key. Two minutes later, the chair’s axle and gears were adapted to run from the right lever. He returned the chair to an upright position.

            – There are several adjustments we can make to width and seat depth but perhaps you would like to try this for size?

            – Can you lift me up, Trenton?

            – Let me help. I see you have your own challenges.

Morganson carefully lifted Colin into the seat, noticing that here was another user with a rigid body shell. Two in one week!

            – I was going to ask if the seat feels too loose or too tight but I don’t believe you can sense it. Let me measure the width of your socket and adjust the seat. Are you able to reach the lever easily? You should not have to lean forward.

            – I couldn’t if I tried.

            – May I strap you in? Then we can adjust the seat’s position. Please grip the lever.

He loosened the seat and pulled Colin forward a little.

            – Now your weight is properly centred over the axle and the chair will be at its most stable. Let me release the handbrake and you can try pushing the lever forward to move the chair.

Colin tried. The lever was a little awkward to grip with his hook but the chair moved. He pulled back, grateful for being strapped in tightly and the chair accelerated.

            – Push the lever to either side to brake.

            – This feels like it’s exactly what I need. I’m seated very firmly, the chair feels responsive and the lever has a suitable range of motion. I think I may have to change my hook for a ring or cylinder to improve my grip but I quite like this. How long is the guarantee?

            – Two years. If you need any adjustments made, I will be only too pleased to help.

            – Good. Thank you. I’ll take it. No need to wrap it.

            – Will you be paying with a credit card?

            – I will. Oh, how do I turn?

            – Just engage the brake on either side. Braking the left wheel turns the chair to the left, and vice versa. If this is the first time you have used a chair like this, I recommend you practise for a while in an empty car park, for example, until you become familiar with it.

            – I shall. Thank you very much. Bye!

Colin charged the twelve thousand seven hundred to OneOff’s business account, asked Trenton to carry a canvas bag with the accessories and they left. Trenton helped Colin transfer into the car, folded the chair, stashed it and drove back to Thirstysomething to deposit Colin. He jumped back into the car and returned it to OneOff’s cellar, ready for Conrad’s home journey later in the evening. Colin spent the next two hours out the back propelling himself to and fro, practising turns and generally having fun. He nursed a persistent erection.

 

Conrad and Steve sat at the corner table in OneOff and went over some accounts and new orders together. Steve had been supervising OneOff for a few days while Conrad was in 'A' Factory and Conrad wanted to know how he felt about his increased responsibilities. Steve assured him that things were going well and with Louis usually at hand to help, he had no reason to doubt that there would be any insurmountable problems. And Conrad was upstairs for advice. Conrad thanked him and announced that both Steve and Louis would be getting a twenty percent pay increase backdated to the start of the month.

 

With Nolan returning to work in three days, Michael and Weston were next up for remedial work. They both wanted to be one up one down amputees. Michael was already an above knee amputee and wanted a below knee job too. Weston had a below knee stump and wanted his right leg off mid-thigh. They could decide who would go first and Conrad would get word to Lee to start the chain of events again. Both boys stated that they wanted their meat legs replaced with wooden peg legs, to be double peggers everywhere and always except in OneOff where they would continue wearing their old artificial limbs on their original stumps instead of their existing pegs, wearing them in combination with the new pegs. Wearing two peg legs – or only one with crutches – was too impractical for a busy bar tender to handle but one peg with a normal prosthesis would be fine. No further staff members had yet enquired about new amputations but perhaps that would change in a few months after all three guys were back from the Amputator’s facilities rocking two peg legs and wearing them everywhere. Louis had already transitioned to a new lifestyle as a one-pegged man, turning up to work on crutches and one peg every afternoon and donning a normal prosthesis on his empty stump for working hours. At the end of the day, he stashed it in his locker again and was on his way.

 

Several distraught families in the local area were horrified by the accidents and additional mutilation their already disabled offspring had suffered “while on holiday in Turkey”. The Turkish medical services had done good work on their boys’ new stumps and kindly provided a basic peg leg but there was no word of financial compensation and the young men themselves professed a complete amnesia of the entire affair, obviously due to trauma and wished simply to put the entire episode behind them. The number of newly legless young men gradually rose and there were more on the way.

 

Trenton wanted Conrad to scan someone’s forearm and to use its shape for his own arm sockets. The guys at Thirstysomething were hopeless, having a very meagre selection of forearms at the best of times. Thursday was Trenton’s day off and he decided to spend the evening in OneOff.

            – Hi Trenton mate! Got the day off?

            – Yup. Give us an IPA, will you? Can I ask you a favour? Can you roll your sleeve up to your elbow for a minute?

            – Sure. Like this? OK?

            – Fine, thanks! Is Conrad upstairs?

            – Yeah, he should be unless someone has kidnapped him. What are you up to?

            – I’d rather not say, Tim.

            – Hello Trenton.

            – Hi Mick. Hey, I know it sounds funny but can you roll your sleeve up for a minute? Ah, you’ve been working out! Can you show me the other side? Listen, do you mind if Conrad scans your arm a bit later?

            – No, but why?

            – I want a copy made for a new prosthesis. I want something with a bit of muscle on it.

            – I’m flattered. Go upstairs and ask Conrad where his scanner is.

            – Yeah, I will in a minute.

Trenton drank his beer and asked Mick for a lift pass. Mick handed one over. Trenton took it with his hook and went up to the 'A' Factory.

 

The were few customers as yet. A group of four sat chatting under the neon, their faces shadowy in the odd light.

            – Hello Conrad. I have come to ask a favour.

            – What’s that? Do you want a drink?

            – A beer would be nice.

Conrad slid along his rail, filled a beer glass and brought it back, handing it to Trenton.

            – No charge. What can I do for you?

Trenton repeated his explanation and asked if Conrad still had the scanner.

            – Yeah, it’s in my locker. I don’t want to go downstairs yet. I could lend you the key and you could scan Mick’s arm yourself. You remember how to use it?

            – Yup, no problem. Shall I bring the scanner up here afterwards?

            – No, don’t bother. Put it back in my locker and I’ll take it home tonight and sort it out in the morning. Er, Trenton mate, do you want just a new prosthetic or is there something more to this?

            – I want my other hand off. I want to be a bilateral hook user.

            – And you want artificial arms which look like Mick’s?

            – Yes. He has nicely muscular forearms.

            – So you’d like it if we booked you in with the Amputator?

            – Is that what you call him? Who is he?

            – I don’t know. The only time I met him was at the facility when he amputated my stumps. I have a mutual contact who communicates with him. He’ll be in touch with you to arrange dates and his price. Then there’ll be the cost of your new wooden prostheses on top of that.

            – Disability doesn’t come cheap.

            – Ha! No, it doesn’t!

 

A U G U S T

 

On the first Tuesday evening of the month, a tall blond leatherman entered Thirstysomething and asked Fred if the manager was around.

            – That’s him in the corner. Colin Colby.

Fred pointed a hook in Colin’s general direction.

            – Thanks.

He went over and wished Colin a good evening. Colin looked at him with considerable interest.

            – I wonder if I might have a word. My name is Lucas Lawson and I’ve recently returned from working in a hotel in Brno, in the Czech Republic, for five years, after losing my hands under a number thirteen tram.

            – Unlucky for some.

            – Yeah. I was persuaded by the Czech surgeon that the best option for someone with my length of residual limb is to have them formed into Krukenberg pincers. They aren’t the prettiest but practical enough. When I heard about your bar, I thought I would ask you if there might be any employment on offer. I need a job and have been having trouble being accepted due to these.

He lifted his Krukenbergs onto the table. His leather jacket had been tailored so that the sleeves ended just below his elbows. Colin was fascinated by the alien appendages. Lucas spread his pincers wide and closed them again.

            – These don’t prevent me from using ordinary artificial arms with hooks but I can’t afford to buy any yet.

            – Well look, Lucas. As much as I’d like to give you a job, we don’t have any openings at the moment. Do you live locally?

Lucas named a neighbouring town.

            – Leave me your personal details and I promise to get in touch if we have a vacancy or if I hear of anything suitable. Fred! Bring us a notepad and pen, please!

Fred brought them over. Lucas used both pincers to position the pen in his right arm.

            – Name, phone number, email. How old are you, Lucas?

            – I was twenty-seven yesterday.

            – Congratulations! What were you doing in the Czech Republic for so long?

            – My mother is Czech, from Brno. I was staying with an aunt rent free and working in the town’s top hotel.

            – Interesting. And you’re home again now. Thanks. Would you like a beer?

            – Yes please.

            – Fred, two lagers, mate. We don’t have any Czech beers. It’s too expensive to import foreign beers these days.

The beers arrived and Lucas spread his right pincer and picked up the heavy glass of beer. Conrad watched in wonder.

            – I wish you luck finding work, Lucas. You’d be a valuable addition for any employer.

            – Thank you for saying so.

The other staff had noticed Lucas’ exotic arms and compared them to their own split hooks. Lucas left shortly, said goodbye and returned to the street.

 

On Thursday morning at a few minutes to six, the whole household was awakened by the sound of Victor sobbing in the kitchen. Both Colin and Conrad wanted to discover the problem but were helpless to move from their bed. A few minutes later, they heard someone leave the boys’ room and ask Victor what was wrong. It was Marc. He knocked on his employers’ door.

            – Come in, Marc. What’s going on?

            – Victor can hardly talk. He’s in quite a state. Do you want some help getting up?

            – Yes please.

            – Hang on a minute while I get my arm on.

They heard him telling Craig the same information.

            – Shells and chairs? Do you need the loo first?

            – No, I’m ok for the time being.

            – Me too.

            – OK, let’s get you sitting up first. Fresh stump socks, where are they? Oh here. Try and lift your bum up a bit. Right. Can you wriggle down while I hold it in place? Now your shell. Wriggle a bit. OK. And hold tight, here we go. Do you want your arms?

            – Not yet, thanks. Maybe in a minute.

            – Your turn Colin. Squeeze down if you can manage. And repeat. Arm? No, OK. Lifting now. I’ll do up the safety belt, hang on. And yours, Conrad. Who wants to lead the way?

            – Push me in first, will you, Craig? Victor, mate. What’s happened? What’s wrong?

            – Oh, everything’s wrong! Colin! My mother had a stroke in the night and they’ve taken her to hospital. I’ll have to stay home to care for her and I’ll have to leave you.

Another bout of sobbing ensued.

            – Well, maybe it isn’t so serious, Victor. Have you spoken to a doctor?

            – Yes, just before I came here. She said mother is paralysed.

            – Oh, I am so sorry, Vic. Look, we’ll be alright here until you know more about your mum. Go home and wait for the news. We can’t have you working when you’re upset.

            – Alright, thank you. I’ll let you know when I hear anything.

            – Yes, now off you go, Victor. Try not to worry too much. They know what they’re doing.

 

            – God help us if he hands in his notice! Marc, I need a piss.

            – Me next.

 

During Saturday, the bad news was confirmed. Victor’s mother had suffered an embolism which left her permanently paralysed down her left side and at least temporarily mute. Victor was distraught. Colin told him to stay home and prepare for the arrival of an invalid. Victor sobbed that he had better hand in his notice after all this time. He was so sorry. Colin said he would be paid for the whole month and always to feel free to ask for help with a little loan or something.

            – Well, we shan’t be seeing Victor for a while, at least. What are we going to do about us?

            – We definitely need some extra help. We can’t rely on the boys all the time. We’re enough of a handful for them already. Don’t forget they have jobs to go to!

            – I wonder if one of them would consider staying home with us rather than going to work?

            – We’ll have to ask them. What about pay?

            – It would have to be the same as they’re getting now. No-one would take a pay cut, would they?

 

Next morning, Conrad brought the subject up as they all sat in the kitchen eating brunch.

            – Colin and I were wondering if either of you two would be interested, that is to say, willing, to stay home and look after this place full time instead of working at one of the bars plus wiping our bums.

            – Craig and I have been thinking about the situation. It would be a bit much to expect us to work both here and at the bar. Sorry if that sounds unkind.

            – Not at all. You’re absolutely right.

            – And so we decided that if you asked us, I would volunteer.

            – Marc mate, that’s great! When can you start? Haha! Your pay would stay the same. Can’t expect you to accept anything less. You’ve seen the sort of things Victor does. He only does them so early in the morning, did, I should say, because he only worked until midday. There’s no reason for you to get up at six and start doing laundry if you’re here all day. Shall we say, starting Monday morning, zero zero hours? Thank you so much, Marc – and you Craig. Very much appreciated.

 

Best of all, there was now a vacancy at Thirstysomething for a handsome man with Krukenberg arms. Colin sent him an email.

 

Lucas -

Due to surprise circumstances arising since we spoke last week, I can inform you that there’s now a vacancy at Thirstysomething. If you are still free to start work, please come to Thirstysomething at five p.m. on Tuesday. (Mondays closed always). I will explain the employment conditions, wages and everything else and you can sign the contract and start behind the bar straight away with your new colleagues.

Vítejte!

Colin Colby

 

Twenty minutes later, Lucas’ thanks arrived. He would be proud to join Thirstysomething.

 

Colin announced the new recruit at brunch next morning.

            – I’ve managed to find a new guy for Thirstysomething. He starts Tuesday. Guy was working abroad as a bar tender and was run over by a tram. He lost his hands and his stumps were given the Krukenberg treatment.

            – And what’s a one of those, pray tell?

            – Well, the flesh between the two bones in your forearm is split lengthways, wrapped around each bone and sewn up. When it heals, you have two long fingers which you can move and grab things with. It’s called Krukenberg after the inventor. There were so many arm amps in Germany after World War One that it was quicker to get them back into society with this operation than having them wait for months and months for a fake arm. It isn’t often done here these days because it looks so shocking and we mustn’t frighten the normals but they still do it in Central Europe. It lets you keep a sense of touch, which we don’t with our steely little fingers.

            – Sounds fairly drastic. What’s he like?

            – Oh, tall, blond, twenty-seven last week, quite good-looking. His name is Lucas. Wears a leather jacket with the sleeves cut short.

            – I just realised - I’m not going to be able to get my second amputation now, am I? There was talk about me having my second grypher by the end of this month.

            – Marc, we’ll work something out. There are quite a few guys from OneOff ahead of you in the queue already so it wouldn’t have been this month in any case. Are you OK for the time being, Craig?

            – Yes, I’m very pleased with my peg. I don’t want my other leg off or an arm off. Not yet, anyway.

            – Well, that doesn’t sound very final!

            – You know there’s a kind of competition going on at OneOff, don’t you? The guys who have had legs off this summer because they want two peg legs, they want to see who can be the most disabled and still work.

            – I had wondered about that. But I’ve not heard any rumours that something like that is going on.

            – I reckon that by this time next year, there’ll be at least two DAKs working on the back bar. I mean, if you let them keep their jobs. But if I might speak freely?

            – Go right ahead, Craig.

            – It would be hypocritical to dismiss any of the current staff who disable themselves more when the whole idea of both bars is based around amputees.

            – Craig is right, Colin. Both of us have undergone, shall we say transformations, and we’re both still at work. If Steve or Alex rocked up wearing a torso socket, how could we tell them with a straight face their career is over?

            – Well, we couldn’t. It would raise all kind of legal questions, even if they’d taken advantage of a process which we have to initiate ourselves.

            – I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how it all develops. OneOff is designed for pegleggers. Put word out among the staff, Craig, that DAKs wearing stubbies is not in line with house policy. Sounds a bit officious but that’s the way I think. Now, what are we going to do today? Shall we go out for a walk in the park?

            – Sounds good. When?

            – Let’s go right now. Maybe we could have a meal out too.

Marc fetched a couple of clean hoodies. Craig helped Colin and Conrad into them and secured their seat belts. Neither bothered with shorts. Craig and Marc were more or less ready.

            – Ready! Let’s go!

 

Colin pumped his wheelchair’s control lever and performed a perfect turn. Conrad shrugged his prosthetic arms into a suitable position, locked them and pushed his wheels into motion. Craig strode alongside on his blond wooden peg leg and Marc snapped the lights off and followed. Colin and Conrad had shown more willingness to get around since adopting their unplanned wheelchair lives and impromptu outings like this created a stronger bond between the limbless employers and their disabled young employees. Before returning home, they stopped off at a bistro for burgers and enjoyed being the centre of attention.

 

Colin and Alex were in Thirstysomething working on orders and settling invoices two hours before opening time. Colin asked if Alex had heard of any kind of one-upmanship between the staff about more limb loss.

            – Not exactly. I know Trenton wants his other arm off so he can use bilateral hooks. I think he’s the only wannabe on the staff. I don’t have anything against it. It’s his business and Tim manages just fine with his two hooks.

            – Trenton is such a good bloke. He does everything that’s asked of him, like being our go-to chauffeur. I think we should give him priority on his modification.

            – Yeah, I’ve got it nothing against it. Shame to lose him for three or four weeks, though. He’s the only one who can reliably mix those cocktails the leathermen like to order. It’s like they try to come up with the most obscure drinks and Trenton just churns them out.

            – No reason why he wouldn’t be able to churn them out using two hooks, is there?

            – No, I suppose not.

            – And I should have told you this earlier, sorry Alex. There’s a new guy starting today. Marc won’t be coming in any more because we’ve given him another job somewhere else. His name is Lucas Lawson and he’s a DBE. He has lots of experience as a bar tender abroad and I hope he’ll be a good match alongside Trenton.

            – DBE with hooks, you mean?

            – No, not exactly. Ha! I’m going to keep you in suspense. You’ll see soon enough. It’s a quarter to five. He’ll be here in a minute. Can you nip upstairs to see if there’s anyone waiting up there?

 

Alex opened the front door and peered out. Someone wearing a leather jacket and engineer boots over skinny jeans was standing on the top step watching the street.

            – Hello! Are you Lucas Lawson?

Lucas spun around and replied.

            – Yes, that’s me.

            – Come on down. We’ve been expecting you.

Alex held the door open and let Lucas pass. He saw Colin and raised his right pincer.

            – Hello Lucas! I’m very glad to see you. Welcome to Thirstysomething. This here is Alex. He’s the foreman, so if you want to know anything, ask him. I’m always here in my corner and you can ask me anything, too.

            – It’s good to meet you, Alex. Sorry I can’t really shake your hook. We’re incompatible in that regard. It’s good to meet you.

            – And it’s good to have you join us. I understand you know something about cocktails.

            – Yes. I think I have a fairly good repertoire of cocktails. Are they popular here?

            – We have a clientele which excels in demanding exotic mixes. I don’t know why they do it, but they do and we try to keep up with them.

            – Sounds like fun. I should probably change my clothes, shouldn’t I?

            – Lucas, come over here first. I’ve got the employment contract I mentioned. Read it through and if you agree that this is the sort of place you’d like to work in, sign it.

 

Lucas manoeuvred the paper and held it in his pincers. After a minute, he turned the page, read more and asked for a pen. Alex gave him one holding it at an odd angle in his hook and Lucas used a pincer to pluck it from the hook. He signed and dated the contract.

            – That doesn’t look much like my old signature but that’s the way I sign these days. There you are, Mr Colby.

            – Colin! Everyone is on first name terms, here and in OneOff.

            – Er, what’s that? OneOff?

            – Oh, you haven’t heard about it? Well, in here, the staff are all arm amputees like yourself. In OneOff, they are all leg amputees. But because that’s so common anyway, we stipulated that they should all wear peg legs instead of artificial legs.

            – Hovno! You can’t be serious?

            – I can indeed! You’ll have to drop in and see for yourself. It’s on the High Street. We’re about due for another joint get-together, come to think of it, when you could meet them all. Anyway, back to the present. Alex will give you our uniform, which is a t-shirt with our logo on it. It will expose your stumps but that’s the whole idea. Otherwise you can wear what you like. Shorts, leather trousers, kilt. And there should be a free locker back there. I’d like you to start working behind the bar tonight. I won’t be watching you. I have other stuff to do, so be yourself, be patient with the customers and try not to get frustrated when they ask about your Krukenbergs. Because they will. But the next time they see you, they won’t.

            – Oh yeah, I know that. I have a couple of fairly risqué replies for when people get too nosy. It usually stops them without offending them.

            – Well, good luck, Lucas. Welcome to Thirstysomething. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it and that we’ll enjoy having you.

            – Thank you, Colin.

Alex put his right prosthesis around Lucas’ waist and guided him to the changing room. He was infatuated with the tall blond newcomer with the perfect face. So was Colin.

 

S E P T E M B E R

 

Conrad contacted Philip Lee, explaining that he had a growing number of employees who had succumbed to stump envy. He was both unable and unwilling to prevent it and wondered if it were possible for the Amputator to accept simultaneously a larger number of patients. Conrad currently had five amputees in his employ wanting further amputations. The Christmas holidays and New Year would be ideal from his business perspective, minimizing staff absenteeism, but how would the Amputator and his assistant react?

 

Conrad -

How delightful it is to hear from you again. I have heard through a very exclusive grapevine that you yourself have undergone corrections since we last met. How exciting for you! I had not realised that the oak socket, which I remember well, was intended for your good self. How I envy you the luxury of a body shell as I struggle along on my pegs. But that is neither here nor there.

 

I have contacted my friend who informs me that quite exceptionally, he is able to accept up to but not more than seven candidates between Christmas Eve and New Year on Wednesday 22.12.27. All recipients of adjustments will be accommodated following one collection. I have no idea where that is, and I do apologise.

 

Personally, I shall be able to work on the prostheses for your young men throughout the holiday period. I travel very little recently. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure. All your scans will be reproduced before the lucky new limbless leave my friend’s facility. They will depart sporting their new wooden prostheses, if they desire. How happy I am that serendipitously you did not return the scanner when you visited. I beg you to please keep the device. It appears to be of much more use to us both when it is in your possession than in mine. Henceforth, please regard it as your own property.

 

I would also like to inform you so that you can further inform your enthusiastic employees that I have acquired a quantity of an exotic dark wood which was confiscated from a dishonest importer in Hong Kong. It is a Brazilian wood, almost black, and it has purplish streaks deep into its surface. It would make for supremely beautiful peg legs but I do recommend that your new prospective arm amputees especially learn of it and consider requesting it for their arm prostheses.

 

I wish you good fortune.

 

P.L.

 

Conrad replied that he was very glad to hear of the extended possibilities and would be in touch soon. He weighed up the pros and cons of letting seven of his staff disappear for several weeks at the end of the year. Colin would be affected at Thirstysomething too, obviously. They would have to discuss what to do. He was sure neither of them would want to prevent their more than capable amputee staff from achieving new body modifications but was not enthusiastic about having so few staff available for several weeks. It was not fair on the remaining employees. It was something which needed to be discussed with everybody present.

 

One good way, he thought, was to arrange a get-together and thrash it all out once and for all. On a  Monday when the bars were closed. They could discuss amputation and its continual attraction together. A really open and honest talk amongst the entire staff revealing who was amputated because of an accident, or through self-mutilation or by paying an accommodating surgeon. Conrad knew there was a pecking order between traumatic amputees and wannabe amputees. It was not problematic but it might be a good thing for everyone to talk about it candidly.

 

 

Colin brought it up at brunch.

            – There’s something we need to talk about. There are a number of guys at Thirstysomething who want more modifications. They want their arms or hands off, in other words. I don’t know what we’re going to do about arranging it. It’s getting a bit tedious sending off the same old emails every time someone wants a lop and chop.

            – Mate, it’s exactly the same at OneOff. Every time one comes back with a new stump, someone else is inspired to have another leg off.

            – And I still want this hand off. While you’re at it. I want another grypher. Just in case anyone has forgotten. I want it more than anything else. Another beautiful stump.

            – Marc, please be patient. We’re trying to figure out a way to get everyone seen to by the end of the year. There are so many of you all trying to get the new bodies you want that it’s difficult to keep up.

            – So I might have two gryphers next year?

            – I should say it’s more than likely, Marc. I hope you’ll still be able to run the place and help us with two gryphers.

            – I’m sure I will. I already use my grypher more than my meat hand as it is. It feels stronger.

            – I never stop admiring it, mate.

 

The ‘A’ Factory gradually attracted new customers and had become a regular venue for local amputees, a place where they knew they need hear no intrusive questions, only friendly enquiries. Conrad managed the bar every night after Steve had slotted him onto his trolley and managed without too much effort to serve customers what they ordered. If there was anything he could not fulfil, he simply asked them to collect it from downstairs because, as he explained, he was prevented by his acute limblessness from acquiring the necessary ingredients. Hardly anyone ever bothered and settled for something less complicated.

 

The display wall was gradually filling with unwanted artificial limbs brought in by customers. They were arranged in diagonal rows. A good selection of prostheses was on display, from peg legs with leather sockets to small bionic arms for a child. It was the only visual interest in the entire space but exceptional and appropriate.

 

Despite its niche clientele, The ‘A’ Factory began to succeed financially. Many clients of OneOff preferred to go upstairs away from the view of wannabes and devotees into their own semi-private space. Conrad was pleased with himself, showing Colin that he could still bring in the bacon. OneOff had become the most popular bar on the High Street and competed favourably among the under-fifties with local pubs.

 

Colin and Conrad worked jointly on a speech which both would deliver the following Saturday before opening hours in their respective domains. All their employees would be present. Everyone would learn of the situation. They could decide amongst themselves on the outcome.

 

At a quarter to twelve at OneOff and at ten minutes to at Thirstysomething, the entire staff of both bars was present, waiting for their limbless bosses to begin.

 

            – Thank you all for turning up in good time. This won’t take long. I’ve discussed this for many weeks with my partner and after many negotiations with other parties, we have this proposal concerning your further body modifications. A total of seven of you from both our bars are eligible to receive the modifications you want on condition that you guarantee you’ll be able to continue in your jobs after the work has been completed and you have your new prostheses.

 

            – The total price which has been negotiated is one hundred thousand. That includes amputations by a surgeon, rehabilitation by a specialist and a wooden prosthetic limb. One hundred thousand divided by the number of new amputees. How many of you want to go ahead? Three. Wait while I check with the other group.

 

Colin phoned OneOff.

            – Hi mate. I have three here. How many of yours? Also three. Are they sure? OK, I’ll confirm it and we’ll go with that.

 

            – Three prospects from the other location. So the amount each of you will pay is sixteen thousand six hundred and sixty each. That can be paid over a period of two years max, which means seven hundred a month. Can you all afford to have that deducted from your wages every month for two years? If you can, I’m obviously paying you too much. Only joking.

 

            – Are any of you amputation candidates now unwilling to proceed? No? Are you others willing to forgo your days off while the new amputees are recovering? Looks like it. I don’t want to invite able-bodied temps in to cover for you.

 

            – So shall we go ahead? Go ahead with getting some streamlined colleagues? OK. I’ll start the countdown and in December you’ll be under the knife.

 

Colin wheeled back to his customary corner and Conrad asked Steve to attach him to his trolley in ‘A’ Factory. They planned new schedules for December and decided to stay closed on the twenty-seventh in compensation for remaining open from noon until two a.m. both days of the new year 2028. And then they appraised their staff members returning modified in early January. Tim wanted his right knee off, becoming a double amputee with only one knee. Michael wanted his truncated left leg to lose its knee. Weston wanted to lose his right leg mid-thigh to become a bilateral above knee amputee. He insisted that his left prosthesis and his new peg would be adequate for bar tending. Conrad did not doubt it but wondered what the rest of Weston’s life would be like. It seemed quite a sacrifice to make in the name of one-upmanship. But amputation was its own reward and the possibility of seeing Weston using two peg legs was something to look forward to.

 

Colin had compiled a similar list. He would have to let Lee, Marc and Trenton go for at least a month. Lee wanted symmetry and his right elbow amputated. He wanted a pair of beautiful wooden arms like Conrad wielded. Trenton had made it well known that he wanted to become a bilateral hook user and Marc wanted to replace his right hand with a second grypher. So many new artificial limbs. Colin had an uncomfortable erection thinking about it.

 

He decided it was high time he got a new shell. His black carbon torso socket still fit perfectly and looked arresting but its base was a little shallow and the codpiece was a bugger to try to remove. He phoned Conrad.

            – Hi! It’s me. Are you busy? Well, this won’t take long. Can you bring the stump scanner home tonight? You have still got it, haven’t you? I’ll explain later. Love you! Bye.

 

Conrad brought his scanner home and asked Colin why he wanted it.

            – I’m going to jump the queue and have Lee make me a new shell. I love the look of yours and I want one too. And on top of that, I want a big wooden codpiece. I had an erection tonight and it was pushing the limits, if you see what I mean. I need room to expand. And my new shell is going to have leg stumps.

            – What do you mean?

            – I feel unstable sometimes. Always being strapped into whatever I sit in is a bit of a nuisance. I was wondering if I had a shell with leg stumps sticking out in front, I might be a bit more stable, feel a bit more secure.

            – Yeah, I get it. What length of stumps are you talking about?

            –Something about twenty centimetres long that would poke out from a pair of shorts, for example. Nicely rounded wooden stumps, completely useless except for stability.

            – Colin, I’m getting an erection.

            – Good! Keep it up. So you want me to scan your stump and send off an order before the Christmas rush?

            – Precisely. And if you like what you see, you can order one like it. It will be your Christmas present.

            – Mmm, prosthetic stumps for Christmas. I like it!

 

Craig helped the pair into bed and removed their shells. Conrad pushed Colin’s torso onto its front in the darkness and carefully worked his own torso onto Colin’s back. He grasped Colin’s head between his stumps and kissed his neck and throat, relishing the stubble of his man. He slowly twisted his lower body so his genitals reached Colin’s arse crack and rocked his torso until his erection pointed down towards his lover’s anus. After several attempts to penetrate, Conrad’s penis found what it had been prying for and he contorted his legless stump to fuck deeper than he had ever known or imagined possible in his previous life. Both torsos ejaculated and soon slept in their own warm cum.

 

O C T O B E R

 

A courier delivered a sizable package which Marc signed for and dragged in front of the boss’s bedroom door. The guys arrived home at about two fifteen and Marc poured everyone drinks. It had become an evening, or early morning, ritual. One for the road. It was a way of keeping Marc in the loop, sitting in the common room after work, slowly shucking their clothing and prostheses while enjoying a g&t or vodka and tonic. They spoke of what had gone on at the bars, swapped details of new sightings, new disabled customers, new prosthetics.

            – Colin, you have a package waiting for you.

            – What? Where is it? Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?

            – It’s in front of your bedroom door. I thought you might want to open it in private.

            – You know what it is, don’t you? It’s my new shell with stumps.

            – That sounds very exotic. What do you mean?

            – I mean it’s a wooden shell like Conrad’s but my new one has two leg stumps sticking out in front. Don’t worry, you’ll see it tomorrow morning.

 

They did. Craig knocked and entered shortly before eight after seeing the alarm light flashing. Conrad had installed a rocker button to the bedhead which activated after five seconds of pressure.

            – Good morning, you two! I hope you slept well. Marc and I have had some coffee already but we were waiting for you to get up before we had anything to eat. Well, Colin. What will it be? Your carbon shell or the wooden one?

            – Stop farting around, Craig! I want to be in the wooden shell as soon as you get me pissed and wiped.

            – Coming right up.

Craig half lifted, half pulled Colin into his wheelchair and took him to the bathroom. He held his employer’s torso over the toilet bowl tightly and watched as Colin’s stream went nowhere in the right direction. It was only urine. No matter. He seated Colin in the garden chair and wiped his face.

            – Can you spray my underside, mate? Conrad and I had a bit of a session last night.

Craig cleaned Colin’s groin and threw a towel over a shoulder. He carried Colin back to his bed and dried him. The torso sock came next. Craig pulled it over Colin’s body.

            – Can’t wait to try out my new socket, mate. I haven’t slept for thinking about it. Just the thought of having stumps again makes me moist.

            – Yeah, I can see you’ve been moist during the night.

            – It was fucking great, mate. Don’t knock it!

Craig positioned the new torso socket so Colin could force himself into it and lifted him upright.

            – Ha! Look at these! I can try to lean forward and not topple over. Oh man, these are going to be so good in the chair.

Colin’s wooden stumps extended forwards about twenty centimetres from his socket, slightly splayed and looked very much like natural thigh stumps, except for their glossy wooden surfaces. He would be able to sit in his wheelchair without being strapped in.

            – Look at the size of the codpiece! I wish I could fill that.

            – Slap it on and give me my arm. I want to see if I can take it off myself.

The oversized wooden codpiece had rings attached on its right edge which, it was hoped, Colin would be able to grasp with his hook and manipulate when he needed to piss. Replacing it was another matter but at least he would not foul himself inside the shell.

            – Yeah, look at this! I can pull it off. Just what I wanted. Fix it back on, will you, Craig? Thanks. Conrad, time to get up, mate.

            – Ergh, already? Hi Craig. Good morning, lover boy.

Craig gripped Conrad by his armpits and carried him off to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, all four were sitting around the breakfast table.

            – Your new stumps look just like the real thing, Colin. Can you sense them?

            – I feel like I can’t lean forward too far any more. The base is solid and my new codpiece feels like I have room in there.

            – It looks very impressive.

            – I’m going to try dragging myself around on the floor. Maybe with stumps, I’ll be a bit more adventurous.

            – Well, we’ll be here to give you a hand if you need it.

 

Lucas had quickly become the most popular staff member at Thirstysomething. Apart from his blond stubbled beauty, he had a manner with customers which the other bar staff could only wonder at. Perhaps it was the way he cocked his head and glanced at his customers, shyly flirtatious, when taking orders or the fluid way he wielded his shocking pincers. All the staff liked him, Colin was infatuated with him, the customers liked him. Colin suspected the recent ten percent rise in custom was due to customers extolling his virtues and attracting new clientele.

 

Lucas himself loved his job and his new mates. He admired their prosthetic arms and felt self-conscious about his own mutilations. He brought the subject up with Colin late one evening.

            – Hello, can I talk to you about something? I’ve had my Krukenbergs for about a year and I’m very self-conscious of them in here where everyone else uses hooks. The only trouble is that I can’t afford to get a decent pair of arms. Your friend Conrad had a beautiful pair and I would like to know how I can get something similar. With hooks. I think I will be able to use hooks.

            – Lucas, I am sorry you are not happy with your pincers. I know some customers actually come here to see you use them. You have a lot of charisma and your split arms are part of that.

            – Thank you for saying so. Colin, but I want a pair of arm sockets with hooks .

– I think the bloke who makes our arms has a model on his files which you might like. Lucas, you have been such a boon for Thirstysomething that I suggest we split the cost fifty-fifty. Thirstysomething will help pay for your new pair of muscular wooden arms.

            – Thank you very much! That sounds great. Will they be the same design as what Trenton is planning?

            – They could be. Would it be a bad thing if you and Trenton had identical arms?

            – No, not at all. I understand Trenton’s design is based on the arms of someone at OneOff?

            – Yes, it is. And is that the sort of thing you’d like? Hooks? Beefy forearms?

            – Yes. I’d like that very much.

            – I can promise that you will have them. I’ll tell Conrad to let Trenton have the scanner and he can scan your arms.

            – Thank you, Colin.

Colin watched his remarkable mutilated employee return to the bar, clear some empty glasses from it and gyrated his growing erection into a more comfortable position. Now his new codpiece had enough room to accommodate it.

 

Another day, another brunch. Ten o’clock had become the accustomed time for fresh coffee and toast. Craig managed the preliminaries like getting Colin and Conrad into their shells and donning their arms  while Marc prepared food and coffee.

            – I really like your new shell, mate. I think I’m going to get one of those next time I order. Something with stumps. I can see how they hold you up.

            – It feels great. I don’t know what the stumps are feeling but they sure stop me from falling forward. You ought to get a shell like this, mate.

            – Yeah, I think I will. I love the way your codpiece pokes out between your stumps. You have room in there to swing around.

            – I do. Is there any more toast?

 

Conrad was struggling with a sudden boost in trade. The ‘A’ Factory was beginning to attract people from further afield, curious to experience a bar atmosphere where almost everyone was an amputee. There were only thirty-two seats available and the place was fairly full on several evenings a week. Conrad was the only bar tender and although he wielded his hooks as efficiently as possible, queues for drinks occasionally formed. Something would have to be done.

 

By the end of the year, Weston would have become a DAK. If he used stubbies, he would be able to work behind ‘A’ Factory’s low bar with Conrad and the long back bar downstairs. Conrad would have to ask him about whether he would consider wearing stubbies for work rather than a full length peg and his old prosthetic leg. It was Weston’s personal preference, after all. And The ‘A’ Factory would have to foot the bill.

 

Conrad finalised December’s arrangements with the Amputator, communicating through Philip Lee. There would need to be an advance payment of thirty thousand to be received no later than December fifteenth. That meant each candidate would have to find five thousand before then. He decided to hold another get-together the following Monday in The ‘A’ Factory from six until midnight. He sent text messages to Steve and Alex and asked them to let everyone know. Some of Thirstysomething’s crew had not yet visited ‘A’ Factory and some at OneOff had yet to meet Lucas.

 

Monday rolled around. They all slept late having got home at half past two. At twenty to eleven, Marc extracted himself gently from Craig’s embrace and went to make a pot of coffee. Colin was half awake and heard his movements and pressed the alert button. A blue light flashed in the boys’ bedroom and in the kitchen. Marc filled a cafetière with boiling water and went to help Colin and Conrad up.

            – Morning! Ready for a new day?

            – Good morning, Marc. Thanks for coming. I need a pee and a quick wash. And some coffee.

Marc lifted Colin’s torso and carried it belly up to the bathroom. Colin’s lack of an armpit made him more awkward to carry safely.

            – Coffee’s on its way. It looks like the weather’s fine. Shall we go out for lunch? There’s salmon and potatoes if we stay in. I should get some food in. Shall I place an order or would you like to do it?

            – You can do it. You have a better handle on what our situation is. I only know about Thirstysomething. Can you spray my underside? Remember we’re going to OneOff tonight for Conrad’s latest update on the amputations. He must have ordered some grub too so we can fill up then rather than go out twice.

            – Salmon it is, then. OK, ready?

Marc carried Colin back to the bedroom where Conrad was awake and sitting up.

            – Morning Conrad. Are you OK for a minute while I get Colin fixed?

            – Yeah, go ahead.

Colin slipped into his shell and Marc attached his prosthetic arm. Colin transferred carefully to his wheelchair and sat watching while Marc tended to his lover. He was surprised and impressed that neither of the guys had ever complained or shown anything less that enthusiasm for toilet and dressing duties twice a day, every day. He was concerned that in the new year when Marc’s other hand was replaced by a grypher, life might be a little more precarious. Craig was always willing and helpful but being one-legged, carrying torsos was always more risky.

 

Steve stood by the door acting as host waiting and let his co-workers in. Conrad, Colin, Marc and Craig had arrived early and were upstairs in The ‘A’ Factory. Soon everyone would be up there. Being a smaller space, it was more conducive to some frank and honest talk. Conrad had ordered a quantity of sushi which Steve had taken upstairs. Everyone could help themselves to beers. By ten past, the last guest, Louis, had arrived on crutches, wearing one peg leg. He went up with Steve and the meeting began.

 

            – I wanted to call everyone together to give you an update on the situation regarding the Amputator and your revisions at Christmas. Thank you all for coming. Help yourself to the food. First of all I would like to introduce Thirstysomething’s latest staff member who joined us last month. Lucas, stand up, mate! This is Lucas Lawson, late of Brno in Czechia, and an expert on cocktails. Lucas works without prostheses for the time being but has a pair of muscular arms and hooks on order. I’d like to thank Mick for allowing us to use his handsome arm as the prototype. So once again, Lucas, a warm welcome and I hope you’ll enjoy working with us.

 

            – Now, as far as your amputations are concerned, the Amputator is prepared to perform six. The amount of accommodation available is strictly limited and everyone must be out by January fifth. Those of you having leg amputations are reminded to take crutches with you. Those of you losing arms must ensure that you have new prosthetics either waiting or on order. The maker of our wooden prosthetics will receive scans of your new stumps soon after healing has begun and will produce limbs based on them. He wants you to know that he has a quantity of very dark Amazonian wood with purplish streaks which is probably already extinct and which he suggests would look spectacular as prosthetic arms. Anyone who prefers the light colour wood like my arms should let me know very soon. Your new peg legs will all be the light wood so those of you getting your second pegs, you can be assured that they will match.

 

            – So far, plain sailing. However, the Amputator unexpectedly requires a down payment of thirty thousand to be paid by December fifteenth. Which between the six of you, makes five thousand each to find in seven weeks. I am not going to comment on what I think of such a large sum needed at such short notice, which is far more than is needed to buy in anaesthetics and new bone saws. But you must pay that amount to OneOff’s business account – the account number is always on your payslip – and I will forward the total amount to the Amputator. Then there is the small problem of getting to the halfway meeting point. Public transport is almost non-existent so I suggest renting a minibus. I assume the rest of the journey will be made in their Land Rover which will be a squeeze but feasible.

 

Colin and I have made the decision to close both bars from December twenty-third until the thirty-first. On New Year’s Day, both will be open and staffed by relaxed, happy men who show no sign of the previous week’s debauchery. Which reminds me, help yourself to beer. The ones with legs can bring some beer for the legless to save them the bother. Where was I? Oh yes. Just so you know who will be missing for the couple of weeks until the fifteenth January, they are Michael, Weston and Tim from OneOff who will all become legless, and Trenton, Lee and Marc from Thirstysomething who will all become bilateral hook users. Marc works elsewhere currently but I still regard him as being on the staff.

 

            – Now, it has become obvious that some kind of competition is under way, regarding who can become the most disabled without making themselves unemployable. Louis, I don’t especially want to single you out, but if you could stand up for a moment, please – and everybody watch him!

 

Louis picked his crutches up from the floor and used them to push his chair back. He scooted forward in his chair so his rigid peg leg tilted and touched the floor. He angled the crutches so they pointed behind him and pushed himself erect in two stages, correcting first his crutches and then positioning his peg leg. He stood and grinned at his mates.

 

            – And that is our limit. Louis has a prosthetic leg which he keeps downstairs and wears when he is working so he does not present such a disabled persona to our customers, although some of them would enjoy seeing it, I have no doubt. But I believe one or maybe two of you will be returning in January as double above knee amputees and I have no doubt you both want to wear two peg legs , but you can’t do it here. Our policy is one leg one peg. I don’t care if the leg is wooden if you can use it. Similarly, we are going to have our first double above elbow amputee at Thirstysomething and while I have no doubt that he will be able to serve our customers as well as he does now, that is not something I want to see. And I say that as a severely disabled quadruple amputee. Having both your arms off above the elbow is a no no. Don’t do it while you’re working here, please. We love having the entire personnel, one hundred percent, being amputees and we know that you admire each other, but the stump envy has to stop. Oh, sit down, Louis. Thanks, mate.

 

Louis made sure there was a chair behind him, threw his crutches onto the floor and collapsed backwards grabbing the seat with his hands. His peg shot out in front of him.

 

            – I have decided that as the situation stands on January fifteenth, we will not be arranging any more amputations for our existing staff. But we will arrange for new prosthetic limbs and we encourage it. We’d like you to be as limbless as you want but also able to function. In a few rare cases, the firm will help out someone who wants or needs an upgrade to their prosthetics. The prosthetics will have to have wooden sockets, because the guy who makes them uses wood only and they are very beautiful objects. I haven’t seen one of the dark wood prosthetic arms yet but it sounds stunning.

 

            – And now on to more personal matters. Lucas was able to join us because my assistant left our household and Marc offered to step in to help Colin and myself in our home. There are a couple of things we have trouble with, you see. So Marc and Craig moved into our flat and we all get on like a house on fire. And we are very grateful to them. So now you know where Marc went.

 

            – And finally – international fame beckons. The German tv company Deutsche Welle has approached us wanting to make a twenty minute documentary about Thirstysomething and OneOff. They apparently have a series dedicated to showing disabled people doing normal things like it was some kind of eighth wonder, whatever, and they want to come and video everyone in February. Anyone not willing to be seen on German tv? The episode will also be on YouTube and probably on every devotee site until the end of time but if no-one has any serious objections, I’ll invite their crew over and let them see what we’re all about. We might get some German visitors next summer as a result, also lernen sie ein bischen deutsch, bitte. That means, learn some German, please.

 

            – Thanks everyone for listening. You’re a great crew to work with and we appreciate every one of you. Now help yourselves to sushi and beer and have a good time. We have to be out at midnight.

 

Everyone applauded or knocked hooks on tabletops.

 

As was to be expected, Lucas was the centre of attention, not only because he was the new boy and had worked abroad but because of his physical appearance which varied from astonishingly handsome to astonishing in the space of one metre. He had kept his leather jacket on with its shortened sleeves and demonstrated his pincers to anyone who wanted to see them closer. They were indeed shocking but also  desirable and one or two arm amputees began to imagine themselves using fleshy prongs instead of hooks. The Krukenbergs also incorporated a certain degree of phallic symbolism. Two adjacent dicks together. Lucas had heard that before but no-one mentioned it that evening. They thought it, though.

 

The next morning, just as everyone was tucking in to brunch, the doorbell rang. Marc went to answer. A courier handed over a rectangular package and faked the customer signature. Marc took it into the kitchen and showed it to Conrad.

            – Where do you want this?

            – Who’s it from?

            – Can’t make the name out. Jamison something?

            – Oh, I know what it is. Lucas’ new arms are in there. Shall we have a sneak peek? Well, it is addressed to me so I am entitled to. Marc, open it up, will you? Be a bit careful, we don’t want to scratch them up.

Marc slit the edges and pulled the flaps open. Nestled inside a mass of gyroid paper lay two black muscular prosthetic arms with deep red and purple streaks covering their surface. Marc picked one up and the black sheen turned to a deep maroon. The streaks sparkled like glass in the sunlight. Two standard Hosmer Fives were attached, cables leading up to a black leather harness were taut and glinted as Marc inspected the socket.

            –He’s a lucky man to have such beautiful gear.

Marc’s own exotic grey grypher did pale in comparison.

            – OK, let’s put them back. I’ll give them to Colin to deliver. Are you going to let Lucas have them immediately or are you going to wait until Christmas week?

            – Ah, the guy can have them right away. He won’t be able to use them because he’ll need stuff like stump socks and moisturiser but maybe someone can loan him some. I can’t wait to see his face.

            – They are so gorgeous that I’m thinking about ordering a pair.

            – Well, Marc, there’s nothing to stop you. I don’t know how much of this wood Lee has but I would suggest that if you want a pair after you come out of your revision, you better act now. This must be extremely rare. I’ve no idea what wood it is.

            – Shall I, Craig? They’d cost, what, seven thousand something? Have we got that? I’ve got about four saved up. Can you lend me the rest, mate?

            – I’ll check what’s in our account and let you know, just a minute… We have just enough after you pay the five thousand up front, mate. Get yourself a pair and have hooks instead of gryphers. To tell you truth, I don’t like the sound they make.

            – Marc, in that case come to OneOff with me this afternoon and I’ll have someone scan your stump. If you stipulate to the Amputator that your other stump must be identical, Lee can get to work immediately before he runs out of this wood. But I have to say, you’d look pretty cool with muscular arms in the colour I’ve got. Nice steel hooks on them.

            – Never seen you with a hook. I think you’d look great. Especially with two. Do it!

 

Another order was shortly on its way to Philip Lee who replied with thanks in his customary florid fashion. He mentioned that the quantity of wood he had available was sufficient for another five pairs of arms if necessary. Conrad thanked him and wished him a joyous Saturnalia.

 

D E C E M B E R   &   N E W   Y E A R

 

The guys on the amp list were clearly getting excited about their new configurations. Tim and Weston had sold their cars, Mick and Trenton had inheritance money, Marc had just enough saved because of not needing to pay rent and Lee talked his bank into a loan, with Colin’s endorsement, for a new set of prostheses without mentioning his upcoming amputation. Conrad forwarded thirty thousand to the Amputator’s account and shortly received confirmation that all amputations would go ahead as planned.

 

Marc put Colin and Conrad to bed, still wearing their wooden body sockets.

            – Leave us like this, Marc. We’ll manage. Good night.

Marc retired to his room and snuggled against his one-legged lover.

            – They’re wearing their sockets tonight. Neither have removed their codpieces. I wonder what they are going to get up to?

            – That doesn’t matter. What are we going to get up to? Do you know what I’m looking forward to most? When you have two stumps and wank me. Or if you wear your hooks, how you will touch me and pinch me. You’re going to be the sexiest guy alive and I can’t wait.

 

Marc had removed his employers’ arm prostheses and hoped they would manage but they had other ideas. They both wanted to experience the extreme sexual frustration of chastity. Trying to fuck each other when encased in wooden shells might be fun. They both had insistent erections and by using their heads against pillows and their bicep stumps, they were able to face each other. Conrad gripped Colin with his stumps and Colin gripped as hard as he could against Conrad’s shell. Both men fucked inside their shells, the glans of their penises never touching the inner surface, desperate for release. They used their neck muscles to work their torso sockets into a rhythm where they crashed against each other and eventually, after twenty minutes of prosthetic foreplay, both torsos ejaculated and fell against each other where they remained for much of the night, too tired to change position.

 

Marc cleaned the pools of drying cum from their codpieces and sponge bathed the men. He asked if it had been a successful or frustrating fuck. Colin was a little surprised by the blatant question but said it had been a successful exploration of the erotic side of amputation. Marc asked Craig later if he might consider amputating his left leg above the knee in order to be able to fuck better. He knew about Conrad’s January fifteenth deadline but wondered if requests proffered before that date might be considered. He longed to see Craig on stubbies. He would caress them with his arm stumps and worship them.

 

Stubber asked Colin if Thirstysomething could be closed before Christmas on a Sunday night to everyone except members of the MC clubs he influenced. Colin replied that he would do so if a certain number of guests were guaranteed. Stubbers estimated a couple of hundred.

            – My god! Where are we going to put them all?

            – I know for a fact that these chairs are stackable. So put them in the corners. The tables can go outside the back for the night. We’ll help you bring them back in, don’t worry. So there’s standing room only amongst the sculptures for a good three hundred if not more.

            – You’ve got this all figured out! It’s a great idea, mate and we’ll do our best to make sure your annual meeting goes according to plan.

 

Saturday the eighteenth was to be the Night of the Leathermen. Colin hoped there would be enough staff to prevent queues and asked if he might borrow a couple from OneOff to be sure. Conrad replied that there would be no problem with that except there wouldn’t be enough room behind the bar for four or five bar tenders. He could send a couple of guys with hooks to OneOff for the night. They always did a great job but they probably would not be able to keep up with the demand from two hundred men.

 

Trenton and  Lucas would handle the expected demand for cocktails at Thirstysomething. Fred would go to OneOff and Mick and Weston from OneOff would help out at Thirstysomething. It seemed like a fair swap.

 

On the evening just before six, the air vibrated with the sound of motorbikes. Some knew of the parking space behind the premises and some parked diagonally half on half off the pavement outside. Lee greeted all the guys pouring into the bar, taking a few crash helmets for safekeeping. The guys were met by Stubber. After ten minutes he was lifted onto the bar counter and whistled to demand attention.

 

            – These disabled people here are our friends. For two years they have welcomed bikers and leather men twice a week for leather nights and I won’t hear a word against them. You will treat this place as if you owned it and you will behave yourselves. No smoking inside, no jizzing on the floor. You can smoke out the back. Piss in the toilets only. You can use the normals’ or the invas’. Having said that, I am very glad to see men from the two clans who have made their peace and arrived to enjoy themselves and celebrate our leather brotherhood. And now, someone get me the fuck down from here.

 

A cheer rang out and backs were slapped. Trenton and Lucas had their work cut out as word spread among the leather men that the local tradition was to order exotic cocktails. Lucas realised what he was in for when the first order was for two Cheesy Peacocks. He’d never heard of that but translated it into Czech in his mind and realised what it was. He manipulated layers of Bailey’s, Cointreau and mint liqueur into two tall glasses and pushed the disgusting combination towards two guys who looked like they had last shaved in the late Nineties.

            – Thanks mate. I love your arms. I’d like to suck on ’em some time.

Lucas responded with his sly look and called Next!

 

So it continued. Stubber was the unofficial host and kept a close eye on everyone. There were no unpleasantries apart from some private bitching.

 

In OneOff, Fred was causing quite a stir with his prosthetic dexterity. His leg amputee colleagues watched him, pleased they had lost legs, not arms. Several customers may have drunk one or two too many that evening because of enjoying the sight of a guy with hooks serving their drinks. Steve thought Fred might be a good addition to his OneOff team and decided to suggest it to Conrad. There were certain advantages in having two legs when it came to shifting stuff around. It might work out well.

 

The twenty-second of December arrived. Grey skies, windy and the most anticipated date on the calendar for six amputees around the town who would soon possess new stumps. Alex had volunteered as chauffeur and, after several attempts, found a hire car company which accepted a double arm amputee driver. A ten-seater electric minibus was delivered at nine in the morning to his home address and Alex spent twenty minutes attaching a driving ring to the steering wheel. Soon after ten, he set out collecting his mates from their homes. The ones who lived with their families had concocted stories about driving to Switzerland for a skiing holiday with the lads over Christmas. Tim had decided he would not even tell his family about his new AK stump. They would never notice the difference. Lee would also not be telling his single-parent father about losing his only elbow. Let him notice in his own time. See how long it takes, he thought.

 

The journey progressed and the bus sounded like it was full of excited children off on a school trip to the zoo. They were going to get what they wanted, be together for two weeks, miss one Christmas and its faff for once and walk out on new peg legs or with compromised upper limb function. It would take months to recover their current abilities with the increased orgasmic sensations of owning, wearing and using uniquely beautiful wooden arms.

 

Jamison was waiting for them at the War Memorial when they arrived at thirteen forty-five. He was sitting in the Land Rover, the interior of which had been gutted and provided with blocks of foam rubber. Everyone exited the vehicles and greeted each other.

 

            – We have a journey ahead of us which may take up to three hours in today’s weather so I suggest that those of you wearing peg legs remove them and hop into the back of the Rover. I’ll stash them in the skibox on the roof.

He slapped it.           

            – Also, it will be a bit of a crush so if you three want to take your arms off, do so now. You’ll probably be more comfortable and you are not going to need your hooks for a while.

Lee kept one of his but otherwise they shucked their arms. Jamison took them with surprising care and placed them into foam padding in the skibox.

            – Now, let’s be on our way. We have a strict timetable up until Christmas Day and it will not do to keep your surgeon waiting. My name is Jamison Fincher and I am your nurse and prosthetician. I’ll take care of the technical side of making your new limbs after the sockets arrive from the maker. Everything you have ordered from him will be delivered while you recover here and you will leave fully healed, healthy and sporting new prosthetics and new stumps. I envy you greatly.

 

The journey took almost three hours. Jamison was especially careful on the road and rarely went above forty km/h. The route took them through barren landscapes strewn with rock, past abandoned cottages and colourless fields streaked with light snow. A low triangular silhouette appeared ahead and the Land Rover pulled up in front of the granite structure, fronted entirely in solar glass which reflected the surrounding landscape and rendered the building almost invisible again.

 

            – Welcome to your destination! Please wait while I collect your limbs. Leg amputees, if you sit at the back you’ll be able to put your pegs on first.

The three of them crawled towards the back and pushed the door open. Half of it including the window rose, the bottom half became a wide shelf. Their pegs were handed to them and they quickly identified their own. Soon they were standing outside in the gravel yard. Jamison stood by waiting for them, an artificial arm hanging from each hand. He reached up to extract the last one. A couple of minutes later, everyone was dressed, and standing to attention waiting for further instructions. Jamison closed the doors of his vehicle and appraised the group of young men.

 

            – Let’s go inside. Wait in the entrance hall.

Glass doors slid open as Lee reached the entrance first.

            – Two of you will undergo amputations this evening. Two will undergo amputations tomorrow and the last two on Christmas Eve. For men in your physical condition, it is not a long operation. Electronic regenerative tissue therapy will commence immediately and your wounds will have healed by the end of the first week well enough that you will be able to bear weight on your fresh stump. For arm amputees, recovery is even faster. Rehabilitation will be thorough and rigorous and you will all be thoroughly familiar with every facet of your new prostheses before you leave here.

 

            – Now let me show you to your rooms. There are currently no other patients here so you have the freedom to mingle and make as much noise as you like. You must change into the facility’s own indoor-wear which you will find on your beds. It is light, warm, comfortable and stylish, and no, you are not allowed to take it with you.

 

            – Let’s go. Room one, Weston. Two, Marc. Three, Tim. Four, Trenton. Five, Michael. Six, Lee. Trenton and Marc are first up for new below elbow stumps. Get changed, think positive thoughts. I’ll collect you very soon after I have spoken to the surgeon. Tomorrow Lee and Weston will be revised. The day after, Tim and Mick.

 

He waved the young men toward their rooms and left for a short discussion with the Amputator who had been watching their entire arrival remotely. What a pity, he thought, that Timothy Bryant wanted only one knee off. He would talk to the man to persuade him to maintain symmetry and balance by suggesting amputation of both knees.

 

Jamison returned within the hour and asked Weston to climb onto a gurney. He wheeled the young amputee on his way to becoming a double above knee amputee. Two short leg stumps had always been Jamison’s favourite configuration, which caused him the most energetic ejaculations when he imagined himself in his patients’ situation.

 

The Amputator checked his notes and produced a perfectly symmetrical stump. Weston would never again kneel nor kick unless on unfeeling prosthetic legs. His work done, the Amputator retired to a bathroom and masturbated himself to orgasm. Fifteen minutes later, Jamison brought Marc into surgery. Here was a young man who wished to use two gryphers. Both arm stumps should be identical to receive wooden prostheses from Philip Lee, already ordered. It was a simple operation. Marc’s right hand and lower arm was discarded into a galvanized steel bucket for incineration and regenerative electrodes fixed around the new stump.

 

The two newly processed individuals were sedated and slept until late next morning. They were prevented from awakening and immediately showing off their new stumps to their comrades.

 

At nine o’clock next morning, the Amputator knocked gently on Tim’s door and waited to be invited in.

            – Good morning, Tim. I hope you are feeling fit for your amputation. Let me see your stumps. Yes, as I suspected. You have a beautiful symmetry to your body which helps you with control over your artificial legs. I am very concerned that after the amputation which you have requested and which I am happy to perform, you will forever experience a sense of imbalance, of incompleteness, which can be easily prevented here today by one sensible measure.

            – Do you mean that with one below knee prosthesis and one above knee prosthesis, I would be unstable and unbalanced?

            – Yes, but not only physically. Your brain will always be compensating for the imbalance, which can be exhausting. Even after your previous amputations, you were always symmetrical. Now, I am more than willing to provide you with your new stump but I do wish to enquire whether you might at some future date wish to acquire a second AK stump to even you up and give you a symmetric body again.

            – I see. And you would recommend amputation of both knees now?

            – Indeed, that is what I am suggesting. It is entirely your decision. I have the papers here if you wish to undergo the double amputation of your knees. You will heal just as quickly. A new peg leg can be manufactured in time for your departure, and I see you have your own crutches.

            – I have thought about a double amputation since I decided on the first. I am concerned only about the cost, otherwise I’m convinced. Please amputate both my legs leaving thirty centimetre stumps. I want to use prosthetic legs and pegs.

            – Of course you do. It will be done. Two for the price of one. You are a wise young man.

Tim signed the papers. The Amputator called for Jamison and a gurney. Tim transferred himself onto it, glanced down at his knees for the last time and lay back to become legless in a new way.

 

The Amputator looked down at the new DAK and called for Jamison.

            – Take this one away and keep him sedated for at least the next week. When his peg arrives you can wake him for rehab. I don’t want him making a fuss in front of the others in the interim when he discovers what leglessness entails.

            – I understand, sir. Will you do a third amputation today or will you postpone it until tomorrow?

            – This afternoon is good enough. Why waste time? It’s only a below elbow, is it not?

            – It is, sir. Mr Trenton Carder, already a left below elbow amputee. He wishes to be symmetrical and hopes his second stump will match his first.

            – Of course it will! Let us have lunch, Jamison. A thick juicy steak would be perfect.

 

Trenton lost his good arm that afternoon and became a double amputee. He had always fantasized about presenting as a man with hooks. Hooks poking from shirt sleeves and from the sleeves of leather jackets, or displaying the entirety of his artificial arms with bicep cuffs and shiny, rigid sockets visible to everyone when he wore a tank top. His second stump was the same length as his first. The socket which Lee had already completed using Amazonian black wood would not go to waste.

            – Keep this one under sedation for another week, too. I don’t want him wandering around complaining about being disabled.

 

Trenton had chosen a seriously disabling amputation. The Amputator did not understand the determination his usually young patients possessed to use new prosthetic limbs in order to function, and impress, and shock. Society had progressed from the days when a disabled man was shunned. Now he was often the centre of attention. The Amputator’s mentality had been affected by his military past. He had amputated the shredded flesh of hundreds of young soldiers who never thought they might one day be hobbling on bionic legs or trying to use electronic silicon hands. What would their girlfriends think? How could they ever go home to their weeping parents? He did not understand the mentality of those for whom amputation was the ultimate achievement and the foundation from which to experience life with a variety of artificial limbs. He did not understand why so many of his patients desired split hook prostheses from the last century nor wooden peg legs. He was like an artist who could paint a picture without appreciating the scene. Still, he painted very well.

 

The next day, Christmas Eve, it was Mick’s and Lee’s turn to receive their Christmas presents. Mick was first and had his below knee stump transformed into an above knee stump. The Amputator checked his handiwork carefully and approved the electronic recovery process. An above knee amputation was always a great achievement and the Amputator enjoyed a pulsing erection under his greens but decided to invite the final patient in. Jamison arrived with Lee.

            – Young man, I am your surgeon. I see you are already severely disabled. You wish me to amputate your elbow, is that correct? You wish to use two above elbow prosthetic devices. Is that correct?

Lee nodded that it was.

            – I have a suspicion that you will return here soon to request further revisions to your arms and I will suggest now that you agree to the removal of both your stumps from the shoulders. You will be able to use electronic protheses. The wooden prostheses which your generation suddenly seems to prefer will not work for you. Do you agree that I should perform dual shoulder disarticulations of both your residual limbs?

            – No, I do not! Please amputate only my right elbow in such a way that the length of the stump matches my left stump.

            – I understand fully, young man. Please relax into the anaesthesia and trust me.

 

The Amputator produced an exact mirror image of Lee’s upper arm stump.

            – This one doesn’t need tranquillizing. Let him recover and mingle with his friends.

 

A courier delivered the anticipated artificial limbs on New Year’s Eve. Jamison handed the peg legs to his legless patients and set about completing the arm prostheses with cables and harnesses. The arm amputees could practise on their own, having already used prosthetic arms for several years, but the newly legless needed some guidance. The two new above knee cases were fairly helpless and worried if they would be able to use a solitary peg. Jamison coached them to strut back and forth along the gravel yard outside the facility on a single peg and crutches. They could do it very well and both enjoyed their new rigidity with insistent erections. Tim was especially keen to prove himself in his new skill at walking on one peg. It would, he hoped, be his future. He realised that concealing his new amputation from his father was impossible. His father would know immediately. He would return home far more obviously disabled than he had been before going away and questions might be asked to which he had no answer. Discussions with the other guys about their fate produced no viable excuses. He was going to have to return home on one peg leg and crutches instead of a peg and his BK prosthesis. How would his father react to his leglessness?

 

By the twenty-seventh, Jamison had finished his work on the wooden arm sockets and distributed his handiwork to the armless patients waiting for them. Trenton and Marc had identical muscular forearms which terminated in hooks. They both tried masturbating themselves with their hooks until they realised they would achieve more if they masturbated each other. Lee received his above elbow pair and thrust his stumps into them.

            – The harness feels strange. I’ve never had the same weight on both sides.

            – I want you to practice raising your forearms up and down first. You’ll get the idea. Just do it. Lots of times. I have to go and see to the leg guys.

 

The leg guys were doing fine. They had used peg legs before and knew how to secure them, how to rise from a sitting position and how to move the peg when walking. Jamison watched them with envy. Such beautiful men. Such elegance. He encouraged them to wear their new pegs every day until it became uncomfortable, but the boys removed their pegs only at bedtime.

 

On the fifth, at ten o’clock, Jamison packed the newly amputated youngsters into the back of the Land Rover and repeated his request that they shed their artificial limbs for storage in the skibox. Jamison drove the entire distance into town, rather than leaving the boys at the War Memorial. Six near torsos returned home, one by one, returning to their own flats or to their parents’ homes.  Jamison left them to their own devices and drove home.

 

Tim’s father saw the Land Rover pull up outside and his son struggle out with only one peg leg. He became erect at the sight of his son strutting towards the house, carefully negotiating the steps until he disappeared from view. He opened the front door and embraced his legless boy.

            – You have gone too far, my boy. I now have a legless son. Mere stumps. Go to your room and wait. Take your clothes off and your peg.

            – Are you going to fuck me, daddy?

            – Yes, son, I am going to fuck, the way you like it. I love you, Tim.

He watched as his severely crippled son crutched towards his bedroom on his solitary peg and worked his own erection into a better position. He followed shortly and saw his son splayed on his bed.

            – Come inside, daddy!

            – I will son, don’t worry.

He removed his passive artificial hand and lubricated his stump. Laying alongside the newly legless body of his son, he worked his stump deep into Tim’s anus until Tim ejaculated. 

            – Thank you, daddy. Do you like my new stumps?

            – I have never seen anything finer, son. You do me proud.

 

The others returned to their homes, welcomed by parents who apparently noticed nothing amiss in their disabled offspring’s demeanour, particularly after a skiing holiday. Boyfriends reacted more enthusiastically. But Trenton’s return was greeted by complete rejection. His boyfriend refused to stay with a double amputee and began searching for new accommodation immediately.

            – I didn’t mind you having one fake arm but I will be dipped in shit if I’m going to have you touching me with two stumps!

 

Lee let himself into his flat and stood in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway. First he shucked his jacket and looked at his silhouette. His two muscular arms looked alien and inappropriate for the rest of his body. He became erect and went into his bedroom. He pulled the duvet around his groin, turned over and fucked into it until he came. His artificial arms flailed uselessly at his side and he ejaculated again, enjoying the sensation of wearing prostheses.

 

Marc returned to the flat. He pressed the downstairs call button, went up a floor and rang the doorbell. Craig shouted I know who that is and strutted out to let his lover in. Marc stood there, two hooks hanging from his sleeves. Craig embraced him and pulled him inside. They had prepared a low-key celebration. Marc’s new twin stumps fascinated Craig, who had encouraged them. Marc could still wear his left grypher but his new wooden sockets and hooks looked superb on him. Craig shortly rose onto his leg and asked Colin and Conrad to excuse them because something had just come up.

 

            – I love Marc’s stumps. They’re just the way arm stumps should look.

            – I’m concerned about the way he’ll look after us in the next few weeks.

            – We’ll manage. Don’t worry.

 

They did manage, after a fashion. Craig found himself doing the heavy lifting at home and then going to work in the evenings. Marc became morose and depressed. His hooks were not as useful as he had hoped. He had only his old grypher and a new one was several pay packets away. With just one grypher and a stump, he was not of much practical use to Colin and Conrad, not being able to lift them. Craig became short-tempered with Marc and the atmosphere in the whole flat was tense. Conrad had had enough.

            – I am very sorry to have to say this but I don’t feel comfortable in my own home. Either you two improve your attitudes or I will ask you to leave. I am extremely grateful to both of you, as is Colin, but something has soured and I can’t deal with it.

 

Craig had already been flat-hunting for himself. He suspected that Marc was not going to climb out of his funk. He was no longer interested in using his prosthetics and often spent the entire day without them. He was on the verge of splitting up with his boyfriend of several years when something turned up, as things often do. As the guys ate brunch one morning, Marc received a letter from a solicitor. Craig opened it for him.

            – Ah, I can’t believe it! My aunt Christine, you know, she died of cancer in the summer. She’s left her flat to me. And a load of money, most of which has gone on death duty but the flat is mine outright. It’s on the second floor of a converted house in Church Street. Craig, we have our own place!

Colin and Conrad looked at each other and mouthed Oh fuck.

            – So does that mean you’ll be moving there?

            – Con, it’s for the best, isn’t it? I’m not able to do what you need me to do and I hate leaving everything to Craig. It’s not fair. So it’s only reasonable that since we can’t keep our end of the bargain, we ought to move out.

            – It’ll be a few weeks yet, though, won’t it?

            – Yeah, I expect so. We need to get it in shape, new furniture, that sort of stuff. But you’ll have to find a new carer. With us gone, there’ll always be someone who agrees to help you in exchange for free rent.

            – Easier said than done, mate. Where are we going to get a new lodger or two?

            – Well, I know Lucas is looking for a place to live nearer than the neighbouring town. Ask him. Do you think he could help with his Khruschev stumps?

            – Krukenberg. Is he really? Jesus, imagine Lucas putting us to bed at night! What do you say, Con? Shall we ask him? When is this all going to be happening, Marc? I don’t want to sound impatient but when might you be leaving?

            – Shall we say two weeks? Two week’s notice? The end of the month.

            – Alright. That sounds reasonable.

 

The atmosphere brightened immediately. Marc and Craig would be getting their own home and Conrad and Craig might be getting Lucas.

 

Lucas had taken to wearing artificial arms with hooks which had been modelled on a OneOff weightlifter’s forearms. Trenton had an identical pair. The pair of them together made quite an impression. Trenton was not completely confident with his new bilateral hooks and sometimes missed having a meat hand but while he was at work, he needed only to watch Lucas or Lee for a couple of minutes to feel better about himself. They were both more disabled and functioned fine. He did not mind the appearance of his hooks or their limited functionality. He missed the sense of touch.

 

Late one evening, Colin beckoned Lucas over and asked him to sit down. He started by asking how Lucas enjoyed Thirstysomething and whether there was something else he might consider.

            – What do you mean, Colin? I’m not losing my job, am I?

            – No no no! Nothing like that. We love having you here. It’s just that – this is difficult to explain. I heard you are looking for a flat or something in town. I know of a large room in a flat share not far away which is free at the end of the month. But it comes with a couple of problems.

            – Oh, well I’ve lived in apartments in Brno with more than a couple of problems.

            – Yes, but the problems here are different. You see, the room is in my flat, where Conrad and me live together. We have live-in help but he’s moving out soon. The deal is that whoever moves in helps us two cripples with putting our prosthetics on and off, gives us a bit of a wash in the mornings and makes coffee. You’ve probably seen that Conrad and me have problems moving around and doing things with our hooks. We need another pair of hooks to help out. The plus side is that it’s rent free. We’d like to ask you to move in and help us, Lucas.

            – And do you think I’ll be able to do it? To help you? I’m a double amputee myself, Colin. I need help myself sometimes.

            – Ah, but four hooks are better than two, Lucas. Think it over. We really need help in the mornings especially, around ten o’clock, but otherwise we’re fairly low maintenance. Can you let me know, say, tomorrow?

            – Yes, I will. Thank you, Colin. I appreciate your consideration.

 

Philip Lee was having trouble with the manufacture of shoulder prostheses for a customer. He sent a message to Jamison Fincher and asked for advice. Fincher was one of the country’s top prostheticians, yet preferred to work well outside the normal run of things.

 

My dear boy, I hope this finds you well. I approach you now because I have run into a spot of bother with a pair of shoulder disart sockets which I have been asked to provide. I confess I can imagine no-one other than your good self who might avail me of my torment and I do request with utmost humility that you might come to my assistance at your earliest convenience.

P.L.

 

Fincher replied that he was on his way and would arrive before lunch the next day. He borrowed the Amputator’s Land Rover and set out. Lee’s problem proved to be quite easily solvable with a little knowledge of shoulder anatomy and a new pair of arms went into production. Lee thanked him profusely and struck out to the atelier on his short peg legs.

 

Fincher originally intended to drive straight back to the south-west but a thought struck him. How were the Christmas amputees faring? He could easily make a slight detour via the town and overnight at the Station Hotel. He would be able to visit both bars during the evening and see the boys in action with their prosthetic limbs. He was excited by the idea and reset the satnav.

 

He checked in at the hotel and went out for a walk. It was almost five and OneOff would soon be open. The dreary High Street was cold and windy but there were several new shops near to OneOff, including an interesting boutique which specialised in walking sticks, crutches and other orthopaedic paraphernalia. He had no doubt that OneOff’s presence was behind its existence. OneOff opened and Fincher entered and approached the bar. He was unmistakable because of his massive beard and several of the staff recognised him immediately.

            – How are you? Good to see you! What will you have? Take a seat, we’ll bring it over.

Fincher was consoled to see friendly faces. The Amputator had become not exactly hard-hearted but less accommodating and Fincher felt himself more a go-fer than a respected and skilled employee.

            – You are all very agile on your pegs. I love to see men whose lives I have touched doing well with their artificial limbs. It brings me great pleasure.

            – Will you be visiting Thirstysomething too?

            – Yes. I shall be visiting there very soon. Unfortunately I must drive back west tomorrow morning so I dare not indulge this evening. One will be enough. I came really to see how you are doing. I’m glad to see you so chipper.

 

Forty minutes later, he left and gave a fiver to Nolan on the door. He strolled through the desolate streets towards the station and turned right towards Thirstysomething. He had not visited the place before but knew of its existence, having worked on behalf of so many of its employees. He saw its lighted sign, crossed the road and descended the steps into the bar. Lee greeted him by saluting with a glistening prosthetic arm and a huge smile.

            – Jamison! So good to see you! Come here while I hug you!

Lee’s unfeeling arms could no more hug than feel but the two stood embraced as Lee felt the texture of the enormous beard against his face.

            – I can’t stay for long, Lee. I have to get back tomorrow so I can’t have too much to drink. Ha! Look at Trenton flashing his hooks. I’m glad to see he’s making a go of it. I was rather worried at one stage. Are you managing, Lee, with two above elbows?

            – Yes, I am, thanks. I have found the right movement which I do to change the arms’ function and it seems to work just fine with this pair. My man at home loves my bicep stumps. We have a great time together when he plays with them.

            – I’m glad to hear it. See you later.

Jamison approached the bar and several mouths fell open.

            – Hi there! Good to see you again! What are you doing round these parts?

            – I just thought I would pay a visit to my best customers. Also, I probably shouldn’t say this but I’m looking for a place to live. Getting a bit tired of living out there in the boondocks. I reckon if I moved here I’d have a ready market for prothetic limbs and the like.

            – You need to talk to Colin over there in the corner. He’s not only the boss, he’s also looking for a lodger.

            – Really? Colin who? What’s his surname?

            – Colby.

            – OK, thanks.

Jamison took his beer and walked over to where Colin sat in his wheelchair.

            – Good evening, Mr Colby. My name is Jamison Fincher and I worked on the prosthetic limbs which your recent amputees are wearing.

Colin looked at the bald and bearded man and recognised his description. He raised his prosthetic arm and pointed his hook.

            – Yes, I know you. I mean, I know of you. We’ve never met. I’m Colin Colby, part owner. Do sit down. I can tell you that the artificial arms which you made last year are working very well and have let us keep our staff on despite their additional disability. I was worried that they would become too disabled but they all seem to have been rehabilitated extremely well and I believe that’s down to you.

            – That may be the case, sir.

            – Oh, call me Colin.

            – Thank you. There is one thing I want to ask you about. I heard that you have a flat share and an empty room. I assume that living there would entail a degree of assistance for yourself and your partner, who I have not yet met but I know of through the prostheses I have made. Same address.

            – Yes, Conrad Alton and I live in the same apartment and yes, we shall shortly have an empty room. It is of a good size and the rest of the apartment is at our lodger’s use except for our bedroom. We need assistance with everyday functions because we are both severely disabled, Conrad perhaps slightly less than myself.

            – I am aware of your amputations. I have handled your torso sockets. I know the difficulties inherent in your amputations. However, I have worked as a prosthetician and rehab coach for twenty years and I can not only handle your requirements but also predict them. So I ask you simply, may I have the room?

            – Why do you want to leave the Amputator?

            – Is that what you call him? Quite apt, I must admit. He has become increasingly sadistic of late and I mistrust him. He was previously content to perform the amputations which clients requested. Recently he has begun to persuade them to agree to disarticulations. Apart from the total disability ensuing for the client, it means that I have no role. My expertise is in prosthetics. A stumpless torso is difficult to fit with prosthetic limbs.

            – Yes, I know that very well. Mr Fincher, I would be only to glad to offer you the room in our flat. You are a man of good character, I believe, and willing to help two cripples. The rent will be negotiable after I first speak with my colleague at OneOff. If you’d leave me for a moment’s privacy, I will do so now.

 

            – Hi, it’s me. How are you doing? Listen, you’ll never guess who wants to shack up in the boys’ room! Jamison himself! Yeah, that Jamison. How many Jamisons do you know? Yes, he has a big black beard. What I am asking is, would you accept him as an assistant to take over from Craig and Marc? I know, he turns me on too. So it’s a yes? Well, at the end of the month, I suppose. If we work it right, we’ll have Craig wake us in the morning and Jamison put us to bed. Shall I tell him? Do you want rent from him? No, I don’t either. Love you, bye!

 

            – Mr Fincher! My colleague and lover tells me that he would be delighted if you would join our household at your earliest convenience, which for us means the first of February. Rent free in return for your assistance where needed.

            – That would be most suitable. I need a little time to remove my equipment and collect supplies form various storage facilities but I will be ready to move in on the first. I have very little furniture or equipment of my own after a divorce three years ago.

 

I might add, if I may, that I find your range of amputations very interesting from a professional point of view. I have been working with artificial limbs for over twenty years in close collaboration with Philip Lee who is able to sculpt sockets for stumps very precisely. I think I may have a new design which needs to be explored by severely disabled men but which may enable them to use prosthetic legs. You are an ideal prospect.

            – Mate, you ought to see Conrad.

 

 

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