WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BRENTON HARTER?

 

WHATEVER HAPPENED

TO BRENTON HARTER?

An alarming tale of limblessness by strzeka

inspired by fellow Tumblrist blondduvel

 

P R O L O G U E

 

Featured in ‘The Exemplar’, twenty-four year old Brenton Harter suffered the traumatic amputation of both arms above his elbows in a road accident on black ice. His Audi crashed through barriers and fell fifteen metres into a brook. He had been studying to become a surgeon and had already illicitly performed over twenty amputations. The procedures were videoed and uploaded to a subscription channel on the dark web. He and his three collaborators had netted nearly two million pounds from them when the accident occurred. Brenton had been fitted with bilateral carbon fibre prosthetic arms with steel hooks which hung from the two inch stumps at his shoulders.

 

JANUARY 2031

 

The gang of four spent New Year’s Eve and the next painful day together at Judson’s home, the family estate at Menard House. His parents had again left for their second home in Vaud. Judson suspected their brief sojourns in England were solely to check that the manor house was still standing. They had no hint of the amputations which their son and his student colleagues performed on the premises in his father’s private surgery. After Brenton’s accident, there had been no further procedures. It was as if Brenton had been the leading force behind their lucrative system and the most pressing issue over the New Year was simply the question of how to recruit more wannabe amputees.

 

            – Brenton, I can understand why you might not like getting out as much as you used to but it seems to me that it was your charm and persuasive nature which attracted candidates for our special service.

            – Kind of you to say so. Unfortunately my face is not the kind of thing you associate with charm.

            – Don’t exaggerate, Brenton. You have a scar. It actually looks quite distinguished.           

The scar in question crossed diagonally from Brenton’s forehead to his cheek over his left eye. The eye itself had been damaged in the crash and now saw the world through a chaos of colour. Brenton had learned to close his left eye to stop it interfering with his vision and occasionally wore an eyepatch if someone else placed it around his head.

            – But I can understand that you don’t like it. It takes a while to get used to seeing a change in your appearance, I suppose.

            – If only that were the only change.

Brenton raised his hooks for the others to peruse.

            – How are you getting on with them, Brenton?

            – It’s like having to do everything with pliers tied to the end of a pole but I’m getting better, I guess. I still have a rehab session once a week which sort of helps.

            – What sort of thing do they teach you?

            – They started off by showing me how the arms and hooks work. The only way I can operate them is by moving my shoulders which takes some getting used to. After that, it’s mainly been learning to use the hooks for different purposes and discovering what they are not capable of, although they never suggest anything like that. They give you tips on how to change your wardrobe so you can dress yourself in elasticated sports clothes without button or zips. There’s not much hope of me being able to dress myself in a shirt and tie.

            – Well, don’t give up on it, old boy. Keep at it and I’m sure you’ll gradually find that you can do things you never expected to. There are men in your position who have had artificial arms for years and they seem to manage to dress themselves well enough.

            – They probably have someone at home who does it for them.

            – Nothing wrong with that. It’s perfectly reasonable. I think you’re too hard on yourself, Brenton. You’ve lost two limbs. You can’t expect life to go on as normal. You should find yourself a nice boyfriend who can lend you a hand when you want some help.

            – He would have to be a fucking weirdo to want to shack up with me. But thanks for the advice.

            – The thing is, our viewership is dropping. Quite drastically, too. We still have a few new subscribers—obviously they hear about our videos through the grapevine, but current subscribers have been cancelling or simply not buying vids because we haven’t had anything new for months.

            – I have a proposal for you, Brenton. Instead of shutting yourself away at home feeling sorry for yourself, why don’t you tour the country by public transport, stay in a decent hotel for a few nights and visit a few popular pubs and restaurants where people will see you using your hooks and arms. I’m sure you’ll be asked about them and you can use that old charm of yours to find us some new volunteers.

            – Public transport? Are you insane?

            – The point is to be seen, old boy. It might be demeaning but you could easily strike up a conversation with people during a long train journey. Especially when they see your disability. People like to help, Brenton. Especially devotees and wannabes. You don’t meet many people when you’re driving yourself.

            – Well, I don’t have a car at the moment. I have to retake my test as an amputee before I can drive again.

            – So what do you think of the idea? Do you agree it has some merit?

Brenton looked at his friends from uni, his partners in crime and at the steel hooks resting in his lap. Their still unfamiliar appearance goaded him into admitting that the idea had some logic. Any wannabe who saw him would be drawn like a moth to a flame.

            – OK, I admit that I might be able to persuade a few willing guys to shed a limb or two.

            – And don’t forget that at the same time, you would be on the look out for that nice boyfriend.

            – Of course, the other thing is that I’m going to have to rely on these arms a lot more. It’s one thing to convert my apartment so I can live there and another to be able to function in the normal world.

            – That’s where everyone lives, Brenton. I’m pretty certain that if you were faced with the need to use your prostheses more often and for more unfamiliar things, you’d become more adept and skilful with them. You do want to use your arms, don’t you? You haven’t thought about giving up and being nursed for the rest of your life?

            – Of course I want to use my fucking arms!

            – Well, here’s your chance. Get out there and show them what it’s like to live life as a good-looking young chap with a handsome pair of artificial arms. You’ll have a grand time.

            – Jame, you were always persuasive. Alright, I’m up for it. How are we going to finance my travels? I hope you don’t expect me to fork out for everything myself.

            – Bring the receipts back and we’ll split it between us. I assume we’re all agreed that we can afford it. Last time I checked, we had a million nine hundred thou in the kitty.

 

Everyone agreed that they would share Brenton’s expenses. They spent the rest of the evening wining and dining, discussing recent aspects of surgical technology and Garret’s request for an update to his video editing software. Judson opened a bottle of fine whisky and the evening ended very much like so many evenings when they studied together. He awoke at three in the morning and crept to his room, leaving the others to sleep awkwardly in their chairs.

 

They revived during the morning and after several hairs of the dog, felt themselves less hard done by. Over a half-hearted lunch of the previous evening’s leftovers, they returned to the matter of Brenton’s prospective travels.

            – I think the sooner you can get out there, the better, Brenton. I read a review of a new hotel in Shrewsbury [shroze-bri] in a sixteenth century townhouse. Why don’t you go and have a look at it? Book in for three days or something and explore the town. There are always lots of visitors there too so you won’t have to contend solely with the local bumpkins.

            – Shrewsbury. I see. And after that? Wigan? Blackpool?

            – I’m sure you can work out an interesting route yourself. The idea is for you to be out and about.

            – Alright, I’ll do it. I’m going to withdraw ten thou from the kitty and travel around until it’s gone. And I’ll be in Shrewsbury next weekend.

            – Good show. That’s the spirit.

 

Brenton, Jame and Garret left Judson in his parents’ home during the early evening and made their way back to their respective homes, Brenton by taxi all the way to Aylesbury. Despite the after-effects of the previous evening’s debauchery, he felt a new sense of purpose. He had been exaggerating about his reticence to travel. He always enjoyed seeing something new, experiencing something unexpected. It was the same mindset which had enabled him to adapt to using prosthetic arms with far less depression than was common, although his frustration was equal to that of other amputees.

 

He spent Monday and Tuesday researching a route around the Midlands and suitable central hotels. He purchased a tourist season ticket valid for fifteen days, entitling him to travel second class by rail and in first class with a small additional surcharge. The digital ticket was delivered to his phone immediately and would be valid from six o’clock on Thursday morning. His first destination would be Shrewsbury and its new hotel where he had very comfortable digs for three nights. He would travel on to York on Monday week. He regarded himself as having accomplished a good amount, completing a task he would not have chosen for himself. He had used a screen-sensitive stylus to work his phone and it had been time-consuming but he had done it without help and was pleased with himself.

 

He spent much of Wednesday planning what he would need to take and packed a small suitcase which he could manage easily. On Thursday morning, he dressed in a decent pair of trousers, a new white T-shirt and his black leather blazer. He slid his feet into a pair of jodhpurs and appraised himself in a full-length mirror. His shoulders were still broad and his figure was slim. He looked like any other young business commuter he might meet on his journey. The steel hooks glinted as he turned to inspect his profile. He needed a haircut. Perhaps he could arrange for one in the hotel.

 

He travelled via Birmingham and changed for a slower, older train to Shrewsbury. He removed his jacket and linked his hooks, holding the left with the right. It was a comfortable position and looked less disturbing than allowing them to rest motionless on the seat. Both his arms were glossy black carbon, extending beyond the sleeves of his T-shirt. It was a surprising and shocking vista. He alternated between looking at the passing scenery, keeping his left eye closed, and the few passengers in his carriage. He began to suspect that his journeys were the least likely to result in a confrontation with a wannabe, although a journey during a busier time of day would probably place him with at least one neighbour. On his first outward expedition, he was left in peace and was grateful for it.

 

Shrewsbury town centre was a few minutes walk from the station. Its appearance surprised Brenton. He had been expecting a run-down Midlands town like an overgrown suburb but the place was clean and charming. Its main street was lined with centuries-old buildings, whitewashed with black wooden supports. The shops were independent commercial spaces, possibly having been founded over a century ago and maintained carefully by successive generations. He stopped by a tobacconist’s whose window displayed a generous variety of home made pipes. Brenton wanted some cigars. He bought half a dozen Cuban Robustos and looked forward to the opportunity to smoke one. Someone would have to cut the end for him but that was no problem. His cigar cutter and lighter were in his jacket.

 

The hotel was immediately impressive. In homage to the outside façade, the interior colour scheme was black and white with metallic accents. Copper, brass, wrought iron. The interior was completely contemporary both in appearance and in function. Brenton checked in, asking the receptionist to fill in the registration card for him and validated it with a mechanical approximation of a signature. He was shown to his room, the teenage bell boy carrying his case and keeping his gaze on the customer’s hooks. They were causing him to become erect. He opened the door to the room with an electronic card and then wondered what to do with it.

            – Here is the keycard, sir.

He held it out to Brenton.

            – Ah, thanks. Put it on the table, please.

            – Is there anything else you need, sir? The call button is here by the door. Please call if you need something.

            – Thank you. That’s kind of you. That’s all for now.

The lad waited two seconds before realising he was not going to get a tip. Most people settled electronically at the end of their visit. It was unusual for any of their guests to actually carry cash and it was even less likely that this double amputee would want to fumble with coins. He looked the amputee in the eyes, smiled, bowed slightly, turned and departed. Brenton looked around the room and inspected the bathroom. It was sumptuous! Scandinavian style plumbing, heated floor, heated towel racks. He hooked the suitcase onto his bed and began to empty its contents into some drawers. He remembered that he needed to get his hair cut and pressed the call button.

 

There was shortly a knock on the door.

            – Come in!

The bell boy entered and closed the door.

            – You called, sir.

            – Yes. I need a haircut. Is there a barber in the hotel?

            – Yes sir, there is. Would you like me to see if he is free now?

            – Please do.

The young man tapped his phone and announced that the next available time would be in twenty minutes. Brenton asked him to reserve it.

            – Would you prefer to go to the barbershop, sir, or for the barber to come here?

            – Oh, I think I can visit him, if you tell me where I can find him. Nothing wrong with my legs, after all.

The bell boy looked momentarily confused but rallied.

            – No sir. The barbershop is on the third floor at the rear of the building. It’s clearly signposted when you leave the lift.

            – Thank you. You’ve been very helpful. What’s your name?

            – John Smith, sir.

            – Oh! The most common name in the country, apparently. I have to say you’re the first I’ve ever met. Well, thank you, John. That’s all.

Another polite bow and the lad was gone. He had such long eyelashes.

 

Brenton asked for his floppy locks to be shorn to a five millimetre length and then for the sides to be shaved. He wanted a hawk about one and a half inches wide in the centre of his scalp. The barber understood perfectly and set to work. He was a little confused by the sounds issuing from beneath the wide cape as Brenton linked his hooks for the duration but continued his work. Twenty minutes later, Brenton had a radical new cut and the barber asked if he would like his beard trimmed.

            – Yes please. If you can blend the sideburns to skin and leave the stache and front longer, that might be good.

Brenton was surprised at seeing his marred face transformed by a change of style. The scar looked more in keeping with the very short mohawk strip. It was very masculine and he understood what Jame had meant about it looking distinguished. He grinned at his image, exposing his dentures for the first time in weeks and admired the handsome image opposite him. The barber thanked him for his custom and said that the charge would be added to his bill.

 

Brenton went back to his room and looked at a map of the surrounding area. He looked for a popular pub. He could have asked any of the hotel staff for directions but the nature of his mission was such that the fewer people who knew of his venues, the better. He found what he was looking for, struggled into his leather blazer and went out.

 

There were several pubs in the vicinity, all seemingly old and well-established. But they were small, crammed into the ground floor of ancient buildings. Brenton wanted something more up-to-date with a more open saloon where customers would be able to see him. He pushed the door of the King’s Head open with his shoulder and stepped inside. There were tables around the walls and another row of round tables for two or three patrons in front of them. The bar was wide and a watchful bartender wished him a Good afternoon.

            – Good afternoon. I’d like a lager, please, in a straight glass if possible.

            – Certainly sir.

Brenton picked his phone and wallet out of his trouser pocket, paid for his drink and picked it up carefully. He turned and walked across to one to the tables. He sat, lowering the glass onto the table and released his grip. He placed his phone on the table and tapped it on. He scrolled through a few news headlines and looked around at the other clientele. No-one seemed to be paying him any attention. It was still early. Maybe it would be busier in an hour or so when the working day finished. He could wait.

 

His plan was to chat to anyone who spoke to him and wait until the conversation moved to the subject of his prosthetic arms, as it almost certainly would. He would speak about his disability positively and wait for the reaction of his interlocutor. Sooner or later someone would announce that they had always wondered what it might be like to use a hook. From there, Brenton would guide the conversation to be solely about prosthetic arms and hands. Anyone who continued talking with him would surely be a devotee, possibly a wannabe. He would find out. Anyone who regretted the difficulty of achieving their own amputation would hear how Brenton could arrange for such a procedure to take place, professionally and for a very reasonable price.

 

Brenton bent both elbows and placed his hooks on the table in plain view. He picked up his glass of beer and brought the glass closer to his face. He leaned forward so his lips touched the rim and leaned back to drink. He was severely disabled by his inability to move his upper arms. They were securely attached to his shoulders and his stumps were far too short to allow him to manipulate the weight of a full glass of beer at arm’s length. It was an inconvenient way to handle a beer but he had become inured to it and was fairly confident about drinking in public. It might look odd but he would probably not drop a glass or knock it over.

 

A few new customers arrived around half past four. Brenton caught the eye of the bartender and signalled for another beer. The bartender brought another lager and the payment terminal. A group of five twenty-somethings arrived, dressed in smart casual. They looked around for a place to sit and spotted the empty table next to Brenton’s and the two empty seats at his own table. After a quick good-natured argument, four of them occupied the seats.

            – Excuse me. Is this free? Do you mind if we sit here?

            – No, help yourselves. It’s free.

Brenton shifted his hooks slightly to give the newcomers a little more table space. They both looked at them in surprise and at Brenton with embarrassed but polite smiles. The fifth friend brought pints of beer to the tables and sat down. They arranged the chairs to better communicate and Brenton was now at one corner, facing into the group. They were all about his own age and they all looked at his hooks and warily at his scarred face but their banter continued as before. Brenton deduced they worked at a printing house, some on the machines, some in the image processing section. He tried not to eavesdrop but it was fairly impossible and within a few minutes he was brought into their conversation. They introduced themselves and proclaimed themselves as workmates. They spoke with a distinctive and unusual local accent but it was clear enough. They asked Brenton where he was from and what had brought him to Shrewsbury. And then someone asked him about his arms. It was the question they had all been wanting to ask.

            – I got these last year. I crashed my car on black ice and it careened down a bank. When I woke up, I was in hospital and my arms were off.

            – Wow! That must have been quite a shock.

            – It was. Since then I’ve been in rehab learning to use these hooks. Actually, this is the first trip I’ve made away from home since I was injured.

            – It’s good you have the confidence again. I think the hooks look pretty cool.

 

Everyone agreed that the hooks were cool. Brenton was waiting for someone to say they had always wanted a hook. None of the lads did. They watched Brenton manipulating his beer glass and his phone with something between interest and concern. Brenton learned a little about modern printing techniques and image editing and enjoyed intelligent company but was a little disappointed not to have landed a recruit by the time the group departed. He was pragmatic enough to realise that not every meeting could result in finding a wannabe. After waiting a few minutes, he left and walked back to the hotel for dinner.

 

Next morning, he was having trouble donning his prostheses. A retaining stud on one of the cables had slipped out of position and he had no chance of adjusting it. He squirmed into his underpants and called for room service. During the wait, Brenton worked his dentures into his mouth from a folded towel on the countertop in the bathroom. John Smith let himself in at Brenton’s invitation. He looked at the almost naked armless figure in surprise.

            – Good morning, sir.

            – Good morning, John. I wonder if you could help me.

Brenton explained the problem and pointed out the correct adjustment on the functioning arm. John fixed it in seconds and looked at Brenton for a further request.

            – While you’re here, would you mind helping me put the arms on? It’s always easier with someone’s help.

            – Can you explain what I need to do, sir? I haven’t done anything like this before.

            – No, I expect not.

Brenton explained how the prostheses should be arranged and how the harness should lay and John Smith lifted the equipment carefully onto Brenton’s shoulders. Brenton shrugged his stumps and shoulders. He lifted the forearms to test them and ensured that the hooks opened and closed smoothly. He smiled at the expectant boy.

            – Well done, John Smith. I can manage now, thank you.

            – Please let me know if there is anything else I can help you with, sir.

            – I shall.

John Smith let himself out. Brenton was certain that he was a devotee, at least a prospective devotee. He would have to think of a way to approach the subject. Smith seemed too reserved to bring the subject up or to ask questions. Brenton returned to the bathroom and washed his face and neck as best he could with a large sponge. He continued dressing and slipped his feet into his jodhpur boots. He decided he would not hide his protheses under his blazer sleeves. He went to the dining room for breakfast where one of the staff members poured him coffee and assembled a cooked breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon. He sat at a table facing the entrance and watched the reactions of arriving guests. He was intensely aware of his alien appearance but he was not self-conscious. Most of the guests were domestic businessmen but he could hear the intonation of Swedish or Norwegian from one of the tables. One of the children was watching him. He smiled and continued forking egg into his mouth.

 

It was a grey morning with showers forecast. He was unable to use an umbrella. He should buy himself a hat. Something like a Homburg would suit his style. If he came across a hat shop, he might take a look. Shrewsbury seemed to be the kind of place where a gentlemen’s hat shop might still exist. He returned to his room and looked at the local map again. He needed some kind of agenda. It was useless to wander around the town centre for hours. He needed to be somewhere where he could be visible and able to display his wares to people who might strike up a conversation. There was no point in sitting in a McDonald’s waiting for business. He needed to find venues frequented by people with a few dollars to their name. Bars and pubs were possibilities with the disadvantage that he lost purpose the more he drank and it was awkward not to drink in such places. He shrugged his leather blazer on and left the hotel.

 

The air was damp and grey. The High Street was almost empty of pedestrians but Brenton strolled slowly, window shopping, watching people, blending in. The old buildings and the narrow street felt comforting. He was glad to be there. He turned a corner and saw a small department store in a Victorian building. He went towards it, hoping it might be warm inside.

 

He hurried through the cacophony of scents by the door and looked around. A bank of lifts opposite attracted his attention and he strode across and rose to the fourth uppermost floor. Furnishings and the Victorian Tea Room. He was in no need of a cream tea but there might be a toilet there. He spotted it and hooked the door open. He went into a stall and went through the complicated process of opening his fly. Using both hooks, he was able to extract his member and released his stream. Completing the procedure took time. The zipper kept slipping from the hook. He ran hot water over his hooks for a few seconds. The door burst open and a young man entered to use the urinal. He noticed the amputee wearing two hooks.

            – Jesus! I’ve never met anyone with two hooks. Looks fantastic!

Brenton looked at him, the stylish clothes and face tattoo, slim build and wide-eyed handsome face.

            – You like my hooks?

            – Man, I love them. I wish I had a pair like that for myself. It’s just about all I ever wanted.

Brenton was surprised. He had not imagined holding such a surreal conversation.

            – Really? That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?

            – Ha! I suppose it is. How did you lose your hands?

            – Car crash. I lost a lot more than my hands. These arms go all the way up to my shoulders.

            – So you practically don’t even have stumps. I can tell by the way your arms hang. Hope you don’t mind me saying so.

            – Mind? Why should I mind? You seem to know a lot about it.

The young man shook his penis and squashed it back into his underwear.

            – Well, like I said, I’ve always wanted hooks. I know a lot about that sort of thing. Sorry if that sounds inconsiderate. I’m sure you didn’t want to lose your arms.

            – No, don’t be sorry. I also knew a lot about prosthetic limbs before I became an amputee myself. But that was in a road accident. I get the impression you might have been planning it deliberately.

Brenton jumped two steps ahead in his script. The young man washed his hands and dried them slowly.

            – I wouldn’t say planning it but if the opportunity arose, I’d grab it.

            – It might be the last thing you ever grabbed.

            – Yeah! 

            – Listen. If you really wanted to lose your hands safely – I mean by a surgeon – I might be able to help you. But we can’t talk here. Can you come to the new hotel this evening and we can discuss it?

            – Are you serious?

            – Oh yes. I wouldn’t want to waste your time. I’ll see you later.

The man’s name was Peter Peck and he was a buyer for the department store. He would come to Brenton’s hotel room at six thirty.

 

Brenton spent another hour browsing through the wares on display. He saw almost nothing to his taste. Everything seemed to be intended for someone wishing to relive the early twentieth century. Even the clothes were deeply conservative but there were no brimmed hats. He returned to the street and decided to have an early lunch. He found a pub advertising home-made lunches, went inside, ordered a lager and paid for his food. He sat at a table and sent a text message to Judson about having found a prospective customer. He wanted to know more about possible timetables and the availability of rehab. He assumed Judson would use electrolysis to speed healing and anticipated Peck leaving the premises before three weeks were up. It would be interesting to know how Peck intended to acquire a prosthesis after amputation. If he bought one from a private supplier, he might well need subsequent independent coaching. Brenton wondered if he might earn a little pocket money for himself by offering some kind of rehab service. It was something to discuss with both Peck and Judson.

 

He assembled some food at the buffet and asked one of the bar staff to carry the plate to his table. His hooks were decidedly inadequate to the task. He ate in his mechanical fashion, awaiting a return message. There were quite a few other patrons by the time he finished his meal but the place was by no means crowded. He raised a hook to catch the bar staff’s attention and ordered another lager. His phone announced the arrival of a message. Judson’s message was long and detailed.

            – good news! parents now have perm residence in switz. estate at our disposal. get more candidates before i order supplies. need a weekend when jame available. will message re later. j

 

Brenton was pleased to learn that Judson’s mother and father would not be returning for the foreseeable future. He had once spoken with her and found her elegant, a little flirtatious and decidedly emphatic in her opinions. She was quite un-English and it was no surprise that she felt more at home in the opulent privacy of a small Swiss-French town. Judson’s father had received his professorship at the University of Lausanne after a five year process, hence their new residence permits. Their semi-permanent absence gave the gang freedom to recommence amputations-on-demand at the estate, all of them increasingly professionally videoed and edited for upload to the dark web to generate income from devotee subscribers. If the rehabilitation process showing new amputees learning to use their artificial limbs was also videoed, maybe there could be a new market for those productions too. It was perfectly reasonable to have a cameraman in the room when someone was becoming acquainted with new prosthetic limbs. The patients need never know that the documentary material would be marketed for profit.

 

Brenton slipped his phone into his jacket and rose to leave. The entire afternoon stretched before him but he did not want to merely kill time. He returned to the hotel and planned his route for the next day. He wanted to visit a university town with a good number of young males. He chose York and booked seats on two trains, the first to Manchester and the second to York itself. He looked at a map of York and found the location of the university. He wanted a hotel room not too far away from it. There was a smattering of local pubs where he anticipated encountering students and hoped that one or two of them might show an indecent interest in his artificial arms. He booked and paid for a room and breakfasts in a convenient hotel, the Yorvik Heritage.

 

Brenton was pleased by having managed everything himself. It was not easy inputting text and making selections on a small telephone screen when his only range of movement was from his shoulders. His steel hooks worked perfectly well on the screen and he had a touch-sensitive stylus for others which were not responsive to a steel touch. He settled himself in his room’s comfortable armchair and switched the tv on. He flicked through the channels until he found something which sparked his interest and watched a Deutsche Welle documentary about a bilateral above-elbow amputee Swiss wine producer who wore only one prosthesis, a short socket on his bicep stump terminating in a hook. He used this to select and pick bunches of ripe grapes and seemed to manage his daily life with only one short prosthesis. The other shoulder seemed not to have any stump at all but it was not shown. Brenton found the images arousing and he once again cursed his fate at no longer being able to masturbate with either hands or hooks. He had to be naked with an erection and to chafe against some surface. He changed the channel and watched news reports on CNN of the latest flooding in New York City. This time the subway system was inundated further than ever before and the bankrupt city had no funds left for repairs. Brenton listened for a few minutes, closed his eyes and slept.

 

He woke in time to revive his wits before his guest was expected. At exactly the agreed time, there was a knock on the door. He opened it to see Peter Peck standing there, looking handsome in a black leather motorcycle jacket from which extended bilateral hooks.

            – Hello. Thank you for coming. Come in. I can see you are serious about using hooks. How long have you had those?

            – About four years. I got them second-hand so they weren’t expensive.

            – Would you like a drink?

            – No thanks, not yet anyway. Perhaps later.

            – Fine. OK, Peter. This is the deal. I can arrange for your hands to be amputated by a student surgeon to produce the stumps you want in a private clinic. He has already performed many similar amputations with a hundred per cent success rate. After amputation, your stumps will undergo electrolysis to hasten healing. Do you understand the disadvantages of electrolysis?

            – Er, no, not really. I thought it was all positive.

            – It depends on how you look at it. The process numbs the nerves in the immediate area. It means that the amputee need never worry about phantom pain but it also means that the ends of the stump are permanently senseless. Completely numb.

            – I see. I didn’t know that.

            – It means that your stumps will be perfect for long-term prosthetic use. You’ll be able to wear prosthetic arms for twenty-four seven, every day if you wanted to, without needing to experience discomfort. It also means your naked stumps will never feel anything again. You might like the idea of caressing someone’s face with your stumps and I’m sure they would enjoy the sensation. But you would feel nothing.

            – Oh! So to all intents and purposes, I’d not only lose my hands, I would also lose the sense of touch.

            – That’s the way it is. Unfortunately, due to the much longer recovery time without electrolysis, we will not undertake surgery if the patient refuses it.

            – I see. How far does the numbness extend?

            – Only about five centimetres in any direction. Enough to completely numb the end of a forearm stump.

            – I see. How much will the amputations cost?

            – Five thousand each. I may be able to negotiate a reduction if you want bilateral stumps. Let’s say nine thousand for the two.

            – How come it’s so cheap? I was expecting thousands more.

            – Peter, everyone associated with the process understands how deeply our patients need amputations. We are all training to become surgeons – at least, I was until this happened. Think of it as a service to the community.

 

Brenton did not mention that Garret would video the entire procedure and make a half hour video production to be streamed from the dark web for anything up to four hundred dollars per view. With thousands of eager viewers around the world always anxious to see more, it was important to provide a regular selection of new amputations to maintain interest in the channel.

 

Peter Peck was pensive. He stared at his pretender hooks and wished that they were the correct length and better fitting. He would be able to wear hooks all day and every day. It could be that the loss of feeling was actually an advantage.

            – OK. You’ve persuaded me. How soon can we do it?

            – I’ll have to finalise the timetable with my colleagues and I’ll inform you by text message about a week in advance. You’ll need to be free for the next two to three weeks and of course, most people will need extra time to arrange for the manufacture of their prosthetic limb or limbs which may take another few weeks. Have you sought out a prosthetist?

            – No, not yet. There hasn’t been much point.

            – There is now. I suggest you start making calls to private providers. Shop around. You can expect to pay about two or three thousand per arm. Take travel time into consideration. You may need to visit the prosthetist several times before you receive your new arms.

            – I understand. When do you need me to give you my consent?

            – I was hoping that you would say yea or nay this evening.

            – Really?

            – Yes, really. This is a chance in a lifetime, Peter. I shall not repeat the offer several years down the road. It’s now or never.

            – In that case, I can only say that I’m prepared and willing to undergo bilateral amputations of my forearms at your earliest convenience.

            – That’s good to hear. I’ll set the process in motion and inform you of the date.

            – How will I get to the clinic?

            – You’ll be collected from a prearranged location at an agreed time. For example, Oxford main railway station at midday on the agreed date. And returned to the same place when you are healed.

            – I see. Good. Please start the process. Now, may I offer you a drink?

            – That would be very kind of you. May I suggest the Kings Head? They already know me there and were very helpful last time.

            – A good choice.

Brenton shrugged into his black leather blazer and the two men departed for the inn.

            – You don’t seem to mind being seen with your pretender arms. That’s unusual.

            – I know. In my experience, people either don’t pay any notice or see only the hooks. I would be surprised if anyone recognised me as someone they had seen earlier in my usual state.

            – And that doesn’t bother you?

            – No, not really. I don’t live in Shrewsbury so I’m unlikely to run into a neighbour and I work behind the scenes in the workplace. The hooks are fine.

            – I’m pleased to hear it. You’ll have no problem adjusting to being a permanent hook user.

            – No, I shouldn’t think so. It’s what I’ve wanted as long as I can remember.

            – How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?

            – Twenty-seven. Time to act, I think. I want to live my life with hooks, not wait until I’m fifty or retired. I want to be active and in my prime as a man with arm stumps.

They arrived at the pub and Brenton watched as Peck paid for a couple of beers and brought them to the table. He used his hooks well and Brenton thought he was a natural. Peck admired the way Brenton handled his glass. They spent three hours together, discussing prostheses and amputations and opportunities won and lost. They departed their separate ways and Brenton strolled back to the hotel. The first one was under his belt.

 

The next morning, he rang for room service as soon as he woke. He urinated and kicked his underpants on. There was a knock on the door.

            – Come in!

John Smith entered, as Brenton had hoped.

            – I hope you don’t mind, John, but you were so helpful yesterday that I wanted to ask if you would help me with my arms again.

            – Of course, sir. Will you sit in the chair, please?

            – We shan’t meet again after today. I’m leaving in a couple of hours. I’d like to thank you for your help. There’s an envelope on the dresser which I want you to take.

            – I’m sorry that you’re leaving already, sir.

            – Oh? And why is that, John?

            – It’s because… I don’t know if I should say this, sir. It’s because I like amputees. And you are the first guest who has let me touch their artificial limbs.

            – Well now, that is a surprise. I have heard about people like you before. People who like amputees. Have you told anyone else about this?

            – No sir! You’re the first man I’ve ever…

            – What? What were you going to say?

            – The first man I have ever trusted.

Brenton looked at the young man’s face with its beautiful eyes. John seemed to be expecting a reprimand.

            – John, I’m very grateful to you. You’ve been a great help and you’re polite and respectful. You won’t be working here for long, will you? I expect you have a place at uni waiting for you.

            – Well, no sir. I was planning to go to York University to read linguistics but I failed one of my subjects so that’s out of the question now.

            – That’s too bad. Quite a coincidence. That’s where I’m heading next. John, I hope you won’t be offended but may I ask how much you earn here?

            – About a thousand seven hundred a month.

            – Would you come to work for me for two thousand a month plus board? Have you heard of a town called Aylesbury? I live nearby. I have a big apartment with room for two but I live there all alone and I have difficulties now and then. I need someone who I can trust who lives with me and helps me when I need it. Do you think you could do it? Would you like to try?

            – To live with you and help you with your arms? Yes sir, I’d like that very much. I would do everything you need.

            – Good. I hoped you would say that. Well, John Smith. Write down your address and phone number and email address so I can get in touch and I’ll send you a message when I’m ready for you. Do you have any of your own furniture now?

            – No sir. I live in a furnished flat with two friends.

            – I see. Well, we shall have to go shopping for some furniture together so we get what you like. Leave it to me and I’ll be in touch. That’s all. Thank you for helping me again.

            – Thank you, sir.

He bowed his head and walked away.

            – Don’t forget the envelope!

It contained Brenton’s phone number and a fifty pound note.

 

Brenton packed his suitcase and went downstairs for breakfast. He settled his bill at reception, collected his belongings and made his way to the station. The short local train was on time but stopped a dozen times on the journey to Manchester. It was a relief to board a more modern, faster train to York. It was Brenton’s first visit to the city. He was impressed by the cavernous railway station and dragged his case to a taxi rank. By one o’clock, he had checked in and taken his case to his room, which was ornately furnished but sumptuous. Fortunately all mod-cons were provided. Even the wide-screen tv was concealed behind velvet drapes. He returned to the lobby and made some enquiries about local eateries and pubs and where students from the university enjoyed congregating. The receptionist answered as best he could, apologising for not knowing which venues were currently in favour amongst the students. Brenton thanked him and strolled out, back towards the town centre. He wanted lunch first.

 

Brenton walked briskly into the town centre. History had washed over York many times for a thousand years and more. The twentieth century had done more damage to the atmosphere of the town than all the foreign invasions which had left their mark on the English language and the local dialect. Brenton walked along almost hidden passageways, admiring the ancient sloping flags and cobbles, the genuine Tudor buildings juxtaposed with dirty turquoise-striped office blocks from the early Sixties. It was not beautiful but it was interesting and that pleased Brenton’s mood. Losing something which had always been and replacing it with something inadequate and ugly was a mindset he could identify with. He found a gentleman’s outfitter and for want of something better to do, entered and enquired about a wide-brimmed hat. The salesman was short but with a muscular body, wearing a double-breasted suit which suited his stature.

            – We have a wide selection of hats, sir, both modern and traditional. Would you like to follow me to see them?

He moved away from behind the counter and rocked his way to the back of the store and into a separate room whose walls were lined with shelves holding a huge variety of hats. Brenton had paid particular attention to the man’s gait. He thought he could recognise the walk of a man wearing two artificial legs. The salesman himself was excited at meeting a bilateral arm amputee but maintained a professional manner.

            – Do you see anything you’d like, sir? Would you like something like a Homburg or a western style hat?

            – I think I’d like to stick with a British gentleman’s image. May I try a Homburg?

            – Yes, of course. Do you know your size?

            – Fifty-seven or eight, I believe.

The salesman rocked over to the shelf and studied the linings of several hats until he found one suitable. He handed it to Brenton.

            – Er, can I ask you to place it on my head? These make it awkward and I would like to see the correct way to wear the hat.

He raised his hooks in way of explanation and the salesman nodded.

            – I understand sir.

            – I knew you would. I think we both share a similar fate, don’t we? You are wearing artificial legs, I believe?

            – Ah, you are very perceptive, sir. Yes, I have artificial legs.

            – And have obviously had them for some time. You use them very skilfully.

            – Thank you, sir. Yes, many years. Take a look at yourself and see what you think.

Brenton turned to face himself wearing the conservatively-shaped extravagant hat. A Homburg was intriguing with its large crown and wide brim while retaining a sense of decorum. It was for an extrovert gentleman. Brenton loved it immediately. It suited his style to perfection. The wide brim would shelter his face from most showers.

            – This is what I’m looking for.

            – It suits you very well. Does it fit correctly? Not too tight anywhere?

            – No, it fits very well. I don’t think it would slip down any further but it doesn’t feel tight. I think I’ll take it.

            – Very good, sir. Shall we go back to the showroom?

They left, the salesman holding the handsome black hat.

            – Do you mind if I ask how you lost your legs?

            – Ah, that’s a personal matter I’d rather not discuss, sir. I hope you understand.

Something in his tone indicated it was a rehearsed response intended to deflect further questioning. Brenton recognised it.

            – You mean to say it was deliberate?

The salesman halted and glanced back at Brenton.

            – Who are you? Why do you say that?

            – Don’t worry, my friend. I understand. Let’s finish our transaction and then we can talk further if you wish. I understand.

Feeling slightly flustered at having been outed as a successful wannabe, or so he imagined, the salesman completed the sale and asked if Brenton wanted the hatbox for the Homburg. He did not. He would wear it. The salesman handed him the hat with a wan smile and watched Brenton’s efforts to first place the hat on his head and then adjust it to a rakish angle.

            – You use your arms very well, if I may say so. I have also hankered after a pair of artificial arms. As you must realise, my legs were my priority. I had them amputated by a family friend when I was twenty-one. I wanted below-knee stumps originally but my friend had not yet studied the physiology of the lower leg and so persuaded me into sporting thigh stumps.

            – Do you regret not having knees?

            – Not at all, sir. I am extremely pleased with my stumps. Now I spend time debating with myself the advantages and disadvantage of bilateral arm stumps.

            – Go for below-elbow stumps. That’s my advice and always will be, I suspect.

            – You have above-elbow stumps, sir?

            – Yes, my stumps are very short. My prosthetic upper arms are firmly attached to my shoulders. I find myself doubly disabled because of it.

            – I’m sorry to hear it, sir. If only there were an easy way to obtain the alterations we desire without the risks involved in arranged accidents.

            – Indeed. But you said you’re happy with your leg stumps. Surely you have no reason to deplore the situation.          

            – No, sir. But I still hanker after a pair of hooks. I’d love to have long forearm stumps. To slip my stumps into long carbon sockets bearing hooks each morning – how I long to sense the rigid wrists and steel hooks.

            – You are a quite extraordinary man, my friend. What would you say if I were to offer you the bilateral amputations you want for nine thousand pounds?

            – I would say someone is pulling my artificial leg.

            – Ha! But it’s true. I can arrange for your hands to be amputated by a surgeon in a private facility in this country. The stumps will be subject to electrolysis. Do you know its pros and cons?

            – I do, sir. When might this service be available?

            – In the near future. Within, say, two months. You will be responsible for acquiring prostheses.

            – I understand. Obviously, I already have a close relationship with a prosthetist. A pair of hooks should present no problem.

            – Excellent. If you are agreeable, I’ll take your contact details and let you know shortly of the timetable. You will need between two and three weeks for recovery.

The salesman wrote his name, Gregory Hall, and email address on a sheet of paper and added ‘bilateral long DBE stumps’. He showed Brenton, folded the paper and at Brenton’s request, placed it in the leather blazer’s inner pocket. Brenton held out his right hook and the salesman shook it. He was trembling slightly.

 

Brenton left the shop and continued towards the town centre. He glanced at his reflection in shop windows. The new hat gave him an air of gravitas which he liked. He spotted a pub serving traditional British cooking and crossed the road. The interior was pleasant and warm. He paid for a buffet lunch and bought a pint of lager. Once again, an obliging member of staff carried his plate to a table and Brenton set about his meal.

 

There was enough to see in the centre of York to keep Brenton interested for a couple of hours before he felt it a suitable time to find a venue where he might meet some university students out on the town. He wanted a third prospective amputee before initiating the process. During term time, it might be a little awkward to make sure Judson, Garret and Jame were simultaneously available for a long weekend of amputation. Two, possibly three, newly handless amputees would need a considerable amount of post-operative care. He considered volunteering himself until he considered the problems he still had on occasion. It was probably better to ask Judson. He was working independently on his dissertation and rarely needed to visit the university in person.

 

Brenton had passed an attractive pub on his way into town. He turned and strolled back to it, hoping there were semi-private areas where intimate conversation would be possible. There were a few other patrons when he entered, none of whom paid him any attention. He bought a lager and sat down near the bar where he could keep an eye on newcomers and display his hooks to the clientele. He sent a text message to Judson informing him of the salesman and shortly received a single smiley as a reply.

 

Brenton had chosen well. Soon after three thirty, the pub began to fill with groups of students, all of whom walked past his table. He saw several young men do double takes. He hoped he might be invited to a table to discuss his disability and to court another devotee. Brenton was surprised that he had already encountered men who wished to divest themselves of their natural hands in favour of steel hooks but before he became an amputee himself, there was no reason why anyone should have raised the subject with him. Now it was his most obvious characteristic and had to be acknowledged before any further conversation could take place. Judson had done well in persuading him to get out and travel. So far it was going well. Maybe this evening would prove to be as lucrative.

 

He drank slowly. One glassful per hour was tediously slow but he wanted to keep his wits about him for as long as possible. After his third, he signalled the bar tender to bring him another and paid. Hoping no-one would pilfer his new hat, he went to the wc. One of the students had been watching him and excused himself. He followed Brenton and waited for him to come out of the stall.

            – Excuse me, sir. I hope you won’t think me impertinent but I have been watching you using your hooks and I wondered if I might take a few portraits of you?

            – You mean photographs? You want some photos of me?

            – Yes, sir. You have a characterful face and of course your arms are very distinctive.

            – Well, I suppose so. Where do you want to take the photos? Not in here, I hope.

            – No sir. The light at your table is very good right now if we can catch the last of the sun through the windows.

            – Ah, I see. Alright. Let’s go.

            – If you could just sit at your table like before, I’ll take some shots.

            – What are you going to do with the photos?

            – They’ll be part of a series of candid photos I’m working on, sir.

            – So they won’t be made public?

            – No sir. It’s for a course project.

            – In that case, fire away. I’d like to have copies of the best ones though, if that’s possible.

 

Brenton sat down and leaned forward to pick up his glass. He ignored the young photographer who worked quickly, capturing his image from many angles, never suggesting a change of position. Two or three minutes later, the photographer thanked him and offered to show him the results. He had taken over sixty shots, most of which were perfectly good photographs. Two of them were superb. One caught his good side and revealed a hook in shadow. The other featured his scar and both hooks were obvious, glowing with the rosy light from the setting sun.

            – I just want these two, if you’d send them to me. Tell me your email address and I’ll send you a link. These are really very good. You have captured the way I see myself.

            – Thank you for saying so, sir. And thank you for the opportunity. I’ll send the photos in a few minutes.

 

He returned to his friends and sat down. He continued to use his phone but did not show his colleagues what he had created. He had been truthful in saying that the photos were for coursework but he failed to mention that almost all his shots were of otherwise ordinary people who displayed some injury or deformity. He was intrigued by Brenton’s hooks and wondered for the thousandth time whether he should refer to them when he forwarded his two great shots. He loved photography and was determined to make a name for himself as a professional portrait photographer. He also wanted to shed his hands and replace them with prostheses. He would have difficulties using a camera if he were ever successful in gaining a pair of stumps but they would only add to his fame, or notoriety.

 

He cropped his photos slightly, removing the reflection of a chair leg on the far right of both shots and forwarded them to Brenton. He thought for a moment or two before adding the short message ‘may i message you later? i am curious about your arms’. Brenton tapped through to his email and saw the message. He looked up toward his photographer, caught his eye and nodded. He could guess what was coming. This was too easy. He finished his drink, mouthed a goodbye to the students and placed his new Homburg on his head. He returned to his hotel room, turned the tv on and sat back to wait for the photographer to get in touch.

 

He watched a news broadcast and the weather warning. A panel show had just begun when his phone pinged. The photographer, whose name was Jeremy Kendall, sent a long text message.

            – thank you for your co-operation this afternoon. i am very curious about the mechanisms on your prostheses. i know they work by cables but I would like to study them more closely to understand better. would it be possible to meet again at your convenience?

Brenton chuckled at the man’s chutzpah. He thought about a suitable time and decided that there was no time like the present. He replied.

            – come to my hotel now. room 311.

            – thank you. i’ll be there by 7.

 

Brenton was fairly certain that Kendall was a wannabe. He was fascinated by the long artificial arms and was probably considering undergoing an amputation or two, if possible. It was more than possible. From the moment he stepped through the door, it would be inevitable. Brenton would make sure of it.

 

Kendall the photographer was punctual. Brenton let him in and asked him to sit in the armchair.

            – Would you like a drink? I was just about to have one.

Brenton opened the minibar and extracted two miniature bottles of whisky.

            – Open these for me, please. And pour them into a plastic cup.

Brenton accepted the drink. Kendall held it until Brenton’s hook held it firmly and raised his own glass, watching Brenton’s acrobatics involved in bringing the rim to his lips.

            – So you find my arms interesting.

            – Yes sir, I do. I hope you don’t find me intrusive. That is not my intention at all.

            – No. It’s unusual. Would you like to inspect the mechanisms yourself? Let me take them off and you can study them better.

He raised his arms and shrugged his stumps until the sockets loosened. He ducked his head, leaned forwards and let the prostheses fall onto the bed.

            – Help yourself. Please don’t tangle the harness.

            – No, of course not. Do you mind if I take some photographs of the arms?

            – Please do.

Brenton watched Kendall examining how the cables were routed. He carefully studied how the mechanism to toggle the forearms and the hooks was arranged and took some close-up shots.

            – If I were to make a guess, I’d say that you want to lose your hands but haven’t made up your mind whether to get forearm stumps or stumps like mine.

Kendall froze. He raised his eyes and took in the amused face with its prominent scar and the minimal stumps protruding from the shoulders. He stood up straight and nodded.

            – Yes. You’re quite right. It’s been a lifelong ambition to lose my hands. I want to use hooks.

            – In that case, I recommend forearm stumps. As you have just seen, that is a complicated piece of equipment. Not easy to use and I’m reliant on it for everything I want to do. I have nothing left of my arms – no useful stumps if I’m not wearing my hooks. I assume you want to continue with photography as an amputee.

            – Yes, I would continue. I aim to specialise in portrait photography which is slower-paced than other types of photography. I’d be able to continue with hooks.

            – Yes, I believe you would. Have you thought about how you’ll do it?

            – Getting amputations, you mean? I don’t know – various things like the railway or a power saw.

            – You probably won’t believe me but I can arrange for bilateral amputations in this country in the near future for under ten thousand if you’re interested. The only proviso is that you consent to electrolysis to heal the stumps quickly.

            – That leads to numbing, doesn’t it?

            – It does. You’ve obviously done your homework. Are you prepared to lose the sense of touch in your stumps?

            – It seems to be the only disadvantage. Yes, I’m prepared to undergo electrolysis.

            – Excellent! In that case, I can promise you a pair of forearm stumps by Easter. You’ll have to make your own arrangements for artificial limbs. I suggest you start making enquiries into private prosthetist services now.

Brenton continued with his explanation and Kendall asked several pertinent questions. He was excited at the prospect of owning his own pair of hooks, especially as it seemed suddenly to be in the realm of possibility. He helped Brenton don the arms and took his leave. Brenton promised to be in touch in the near future with further details and a schedule.

 

It was the most unexpected confrontation yet. Brenton considered that his jaunt to the Midlands had been a success. Three prospective amps and a manservant. He decided to return home to Aylesbury the next day to relax in familiar comfort and to begin converting his apartment to accommodate two. He wanted John Smith with him as soon as possible. He typed a short message.

            – i would like you to arrive on friday next week. let me know arrival time of train at aylesbury.

John Smith replied almost immediately.

            – thank you sir. i will.

 

Brenton checked out next morning. He was very impressed with the hotel and promised to return. It was not a polite untruth. York had been a completely successful visit. Possibly other university towns would also provide a few enthusiastic volunteers but that was for the future. He made his way home via Oxford and closed his door on the world by six. He telephoned for a take-away meal and poured himself a drink. Everything was coming together as planned. Although it was not originally his own idea, he was the force behind the success of the resumed campaign for voluntary amputees.

 

A twosome

 

Brenton placed a video call to Judson the next afternoon. He described what had happened during the past week, omitting the recruitment of John Smith, and stated that he was quite prepared to continue in the same fashion for the foreseeable future. Judson was pleased that lucrative new videos would soon be on offer once again for their wide audience of devotees. He brought up a problem which had been playing on his mind.

            – We need a nurse or someone with a medical background to look after the new amps for the fortnight or so while they recover. I don’t want to have to interrupt my studies to do it myself and Jame and Garret were unwilling when I mentioned it.

            – And you’d like me to volunteer, is that what you’re getting at?

            – No! Not at all. I didn’t even think of asking you. How would you manage with the cooking and washing for three patients?

            – I might be able to take it on if I had an assistant.

            – Yes, I dare say you might. I have to admit that as a bilat yourself, you’d be an ideal carer if you could manage it.

            – Alright. Shall we agree that after the amputations, I’ll live in Menard House with a capable assistant until the amps are fit enough to leave? I need a decent place to stay in, Judson. I don’t want to be sleeping on a convertible in the broom cupboard.

            – You can have the guest room in the house. It has good access to the kitchen so you’d be comfortable there. I get the idea that you have someone in mind for your assistant.

            – I do. You’ll meet him soon enough. That’s all for now, Judson. Start ordering in supplies and we can get started immediately after. I want all three of them to be amped at the same time. I’ll let you know of the date as soon as I can.

            – Don’t book anyone for at least two weeks, Brenton. Call me when you know their timetables.

 

Brenton sent identical emails to Kendall, Hall and Peck assuring them that the process was underway. He estimated that he would be able to specify a suitable date within two weeks and promised to allow a few days leeway during which they could arrange their absences from work.

Late in the afternoon, a message arrived from John Smith stating that his train was due at Oxford station at fifteen twenty on Saturday.

            – i’m sorry i couldn’t arrive on friday, sir.

            – will be at the station to meet you.

 

Brenton spent much of Tuesday researching small electric vehicles which were not classed as automobiles. Some of the smallest one- and two-seater models were legally four-wheeled bicycles, with low top speeds and a low carrying capacity. Brenton had been reluctant to consider them as viable alternatives for his transport needs but he had seen several during the past week in both Shrewsbury and York and was increasingly impressed by their utility and ease of use. With two pedals and a steering lever, he would be mobile again without needing to retake the official driving course for disabled drivers. He was sure his stumps were adequate to control a slow moving electric vehicle. He compared three of the most popular models and contacted the nearest showrooms requesting a test drive and was shortly invited to all three at his earliest convenience.

 

He was most interested in a model from a domestic start-up, Elektrion. It had the longest wheelbase, four wheel drive, a six hundred mile range on one full charge and its ingenious steering lever was already equipped with a fold-out ring intended for use by a hook. Its inclusion impressed Brenton. The vehicle was classed as a four-wheeled electric bike and no driving licence was required to operate it. It seated two, the passenger behind the driver which was a suitable place for John Smith. The seat was easily removable for additional storage space. And it was available in three colours – white, grey and black. Led strips outlined the vehicle for improved visibility. Otherwise the vehicle was extremely basic. There was no stereo system, no heating, no air conditioning. The omissions were necessary for the Elektrion to avoid classification as a car. Brenton compared it with the other two vehicles and decided that if it drove well, he would buy one the next day. The showroom was in Bicester [bis-ter], next to the production facility. Another trip to Oxford was in prospect and fortunately his railcard was still valid.

 

Judson set about ordering anaesthetics, a new bottle of oxygen and conductive pads and bandages for electrolysis. He kept Jame and Garret well informed of developments. They were both essential to the project. Garret had a new version of his editing software waiting only for download and installation. Judson arranged for a day off on Friday and for his supplies to be delivered. He would leave the university on Thursday evening and stay overnight at Menard House.

 

John Smith announced that he had handed in his notice at the hotel and had already packed. Brenton asked him how much luggage he would be bringing.

            – just one small suitcase with my clothes and a couple of books, sir.

Brenton thought that fetching John Smith from Aylesbury station would be the first proper journey he made in his new car. For Brenton, it would always be the car, not a four-wheeled bike.

            – very good. i look forward to seeing you.

 

Brenton travelled by train to Bicester and hailed a taxi for the ride to Elektrion’s showroom. He seemed to be expected and was welcomed by a young salesman who soon revealed himself to be the designer of the shell, as the body of the ‘car’ was called. He had drawn inspiration from the frontage of old VW minibuses and the fronts of streamlined tramcars. There was a beautiful sweeping expanse of clear acrylic on the front behind which were the indicator lights and other small leds. The side door slid back along its own length to reveal most of the black car’s interior.

            – Do sit in it. The position of the driving chair is adjustable, although you may find it difficult to adjust without assistance, sir.

            – Are you referring to my disability?

            – Yes sir.

            – Well, that’s very honest of you. I do feel another four or five inches would be more comfortable. This ring is very useful.

            – Yes, it was suggested by one of our testers who had lost a hand. It was an easy addition to make. Let me release the seat lock and you can find the right distance. Try that.

            – Excellent. May I take it for a drive?

            – Ride around the yard, sir.

The salesman tweaked a small remote and the motor woke into life, indicated by a deep blue light on the console. He slid the door shut and gestured to indicate ‘Go ahead’. Brenton pressed the large green pedal marked with a plus sign and twisted his hook to turn the vehicle. It was almost silent. Only slight vibration revealed he was in motion. The steering mechanism was sensitive and he was able to steer with very little effort. It was ideal for an amputee such as himself. He tried the large flat buttons along the console – W for windscreen wiper, arrows for the indicators whose lights were plainly visible in the footwell, a blue square marked C for cruise control and a red square R for reverse. The buttons were rubberised. His hook seemed secure operating them. The interior had been thought out very well. He returned to where the salesman waited for him and braked. He leant across and was able to pull the door open without assistance.

            – That was a lot of fun.

            – I’m glad to hear it, sir.

            – Shall we go inside and do some business?

 

Half an hour later, Brenton was the owner of the car he had test-driven. He received advice about the best way to recharge the battery, ways to plan journeys on minor roads since the ‘car’ was not legal on motorways, and complimentary polishes, sponges and a selection of stickers. He paid for an insurance plan and an extended warranty. The beaming salesman escorted him back to his new wheels, shook his hook and wished him an enjoyable trip home. Brenton sat inside and belted himself in after considerable effort – that would be a job for John Smith. He started the ignition and admired the muted led lighting all around the car which warned that it was operational. He placed his right hook through the steering ring and depressed the green pedal. The car moved forward, silent except for the sound of the tyres on asphalt, and Brenton felt more pleasure in his regained mobility than he had ever had from the ostentatious BMW which had cost him his arms. The twenty kilometre journey along a pleasantly quiet road took an hour and Brenton enjoyed every moment. He parked behind his apartment building, grabbed all his new brochures and pamphlets and let himself in.

 

Brenton woke the next morning and felt that something was missing. He thought for a few moments and realised that for the first time in many months, he felt no anxiety. Only the simple pleasure in being alive, young and healthy with no urgent tasks or responsibilities which he needed to take care of. His venture to the Midlands had pressured him back into normal everyday society and it had been more successful than he had dared hope for. He went to shower, dried off by shrugging a heavy bath towel over himself and inserted his dentures by manipulating them from the towel with his lips. His short hair needed no attention. He returned to his bedroom, donned his black carbon arms and shrugged into his dressing gown. He ate breakfast, studying the brochures for his wheels and went into his living room. He turned the tv on to see the news and weather for a few minutes until he streamed Beethoven’s Ninth and sat back, thinking of how his routine, and John Smith’s life, would change at the weekend. It would be life-changing to have company. Brenton wondered how their relationship might develop. There was nothing sexual on Brenton’s part but he did regard the handsome boy as a kind of trophy which proclaimed his own dominant status despite his severe disability and scarred face. John Smith wanted to serve him out of admiration. Perhaps it was inevitable that some kind of love would grow between them.

 

The afternoon was fine and clear. Spring was in the air and Brenton was inspired to ride to Greater Missenden, his favourite spot with handsome views into the valley, enhanced now by the emergence of fresh greenery in the trees. He contemplated his next venture to recruit further wannabes. Perhaps the West Country would be pleasant at this time of year before the tourist hordes spoiled the local atmosphere. If John Smith accompanied him, he would find life a little easier but he thought he was more likely to attract the kind of man he sought if he were alone during his excursions. John Smith could find his own amusement in the meantime. The afternoon sun dropped low enough to illuminate the countryside with golden light. Brenton admired the view for a few more minutes, feeling safe and inconspicuous in his black ‘car’ and returned home to Aylesbury.

 

On Friday evening, Judson announced that all the supplies needed for three bilateral amputations were to hand and left it to Brenton to arrange a weekend date for the procedures no sooner than two weeks hence. Brenton acknowledged with a short message and began to formulate a message to the three future amputees. He sent them identical text, inviting them to be at Oxford railway station for collection on Saturday morning at eleven, three weeks hence. Replies arrived during the evening. They would all be present. Brenton was delighted and lit a Robusto cigar in celebration. Preparing his cigars was another task for John Smith.

 

Brenton felt a boyish excitement on Saturday morning. John Smith was due to arrive in a few hours. The boy would live as an au pair but Brenton expected a little deference. John Smith would receive pocket money but his bed and board would constitute most of his wage. He would have a comfortable and secure life with Brenton and it would be for him to decide how subservient he wished it to be. Having decided their future arrangements, Brenton returned to the present. He snaffled some cold meatballs for lunch and motored into the centre of Aylesbury for some grocery shopping and a wait in the station cafeteria for his manservant. He recharged his ‘car’ in the station car park in the meantime.

 

Brenton stood on the platform with his hooks locked in front of him. The train arrived and a crowd of people emptied from it. Brenton scanned the crowd, looking for John Smith. The young man was suddenly visible at the back of the crowd. He had travelled in the last carriage. He had not yet spotted Brenton. He looked a little apprehensive but broke into a broad smile when he saw his double-hooked master. Brenton disengaged his hooks in readiness to shake the young man’s hand but John Smith pre-empted him and rushed forward to hug him, burying his head into Brenton’s chest.

            – It’s so good to see you again, sir. I was worried you might not be here.

            – And it’s good to see you too, John Smith. Come along. My car is waiting. Did you have a good journey?

            – Yes sir. Thank you. But I was too excited to see the scenery.

            – Were you looking forward to coming?

            – Oh yes, sir. More than anything.

            – Well, now you are here and we can spend some time getting to know each other better. Here’s my car. Sit in the rear seat and we can be off.

John Smith stepped into the odd vehicle and settled himself. There was room beside him for his suitcase. His master sat in the front seat and the interior lights switched on. His master pulled the door shut and the ‘car’ slid into motion. John Smith wanted to ask about the vehicle but would hold his tongue until his master asked him something. He was transfixed by the way his master steered the ‘car’ with one of his hooks. He had never seen a car controlled by a joystick before. The joystick and his master’s black artificial arm blended into one device. It was fascinating.

 

Brenton guided the car into a space behind the apartment building and turned off the ignition. He disengaged his hook from the steering ring and turned around to face John Smith.

            – Welcome home, John Smith. I want you to always feel at home here. This is your safe place where you will always be welcome. Do you understand?

            – I think so, sir. This is my home now.

            – Yes it is. Let’s go and see it. Bring the bag of groceries with you.

Brenton slid the door open and they stepped out. John Smith followed his master around the side of the building and entered the foyer as Brenton held the door open. He fished around for his keys and twisted his body to open the door. John Smith stepped inside into his new life.

 

            – I suggest you unpack your bag first. Come to the bedroom and you can put your things in the closet.

            – Where will I sleep, sir?

            – On an inflatable bed. You can sleep here or take it to the lounge. Unless you would like to sleep in my bed with me. If you would like to do that, we should buy a wider bed.

            – I would like that, sir. To share your bed, I mean.

            – Then that is what we shall do. But not tonight.

John Smith emptied his case of his meagre belongings and lifted it onto a shelf.

            – Good. Shall we have a snack? We can sit in the kitchen and talk.

Brenton set about preparing coffee. John Smith watched Brenton’s hooks manipulating the equipment and ingredients. It was almost the same as making tea.

            – There’s some cake in the bag of groceries you brought in. See if you can find it and we’ll have it now. The plates are up here.

He rapped on a cupboard.

            – You could put the groceries away. I’ll tell you where they belong.

 

It was a perfectly normal domestic scene intended to reassure John Smith that perfectly normal things would continue. Brenton would gradually introduce his companion to the surgery at Menard House. Other aspects of their scheme need not concern him. John Smith’s assistance would be invaluable when Brenton took charge of healing and initial rehabilitation following the imminent bilateral amputations.

 

Brenton asked John Smith about his family, his education, his interests, his fascination with stumps and prosthetic limbs, his hopes for their shared life. He spoke of his own background and his plans which were cancelled by the loss of his arms. It occurred to him that now he had an audience, he might find more motivation to use his prosthetics, knowing that John Smith would be watching and admiring him. The boy’s handsome face and beautiful eyes were a pleasure to see and Brenton wanted to be admired by him.

 

            – What would you like for dinner? What’s your favourite food?

            – I don’t know, sir. I don’t really have a favourite. I like lasagne and fish and chips but I don’t really have one favourite.

            – So you eat everything. That’s good. I have some pork chops and frozen chips which are easy for me to cook but I think I’d like to eat out tonight. Shall we go into town and have a meal somewhere? I know a pub where they do good food. It’s my treat, don’t worry.

            – I’d like that, sir.

            – Good. We’ll do that.

 

Brenton drove them to his favoured pub and they ordered steak and chips. For the first time since his disablement, he dared to order something he would ordinarily have trouble eating, knowing that John Smith would help feed him. Brenton asked his boy to cut the steak into smaller pieces and used his right hook to nip his food from the plate. They washed the meal down with non-alcoholic beer. They could have a drink at home later. They left after an enjoyable ninety minutes.

 

            – Would you like to drive my car? Have you driven before?

            – No sir. I’m afraid I can’t afford driving lessons.

            – That’s a shame. But you are allowed to drive this. Officially it’s regarded as a four-wheeled bike and you don’t need a driving licence to drive it. If you like, I’ll show you how it works tomorrow and you can be my chauffeur.

            – That would be fun. Thank you, sir. I was watching how you used the joystick when we came from the station.

            – I’m pleased I can drive again with these arms. I think a normal steering wheel would be too heavy for me now. I can’t get a lot of force from my stumps. Well, you’ve seen them. You can imagine they’re not much good behind a wheel.

            – No sir. But this is very useful. We don’t need a big car.

Brenton glanced at him, surprised by the first person plural.

            – Quite right, John Smith. We don’t.

 

They spent the rest of the evening in the lounge. Brenton enjoyed a tipple and offered his boy a drink. John Smith accepted and nursed his one whisky the whole evening. Finally, Brenton suggested it was time for bed. He showed the boy where he stashed the inflatable mattress and sheets. John Smith preferred to sleep in Brenton’s room. The bed inflated beside Brenton’s own.

            – Will you help me in the bathroom? I need to take my dentures out. You can put them in a glass for me. Then if you would help me take my arms off, I’d be pleased.

John Smith fetched his own toiletries from the bedroom and asked to use a glass.

            – Help yourself. You know where they are.

To Brenton’s shock, John Smith loosened his own dentures and placed them into the glass and dropped an effervescent tablet in.

            – I didn’t know you wear false teeth. How long have you worn dentures?

            – Since I was fifteen, sir. My teeth did not form enamel properly and they were damaged easily and discoloured. There’s a Latin name for the disease but I can’t remember it now. I wear dentures because of a Latin word. It’s alright, isn’t it, sir?

            – Yes. I’m just surprised. It’s unusual for a young man to wear false teeth. I lost mine in the crash. They were smashed too badly to fix.

Brenton placed a thick folded towel onto the counter and leaned over it. He tongued his dentures out, letting them drop onto the towel and hooked them into the glass.

            – Put a tablet in. Thank you.

They urinated and washed their hands and hooks under hot running water. Brenton wordlessly turned his back on John Smith and raised his arms slightly. The boy gripped the harness and lifted the prostheses off Benton’s shoulders.

            – Where do you put these, sir?

            – Leave them on the counter.

Back in the bedroom, Brenton sat on his bed and kicked at the bedcovers.

            – Let me help, sir.

John Smith pulled back the covers and watched his master lay down. He covered him, asked if he needed anything, switched off the light and went to his own bed. He felt happy and safe and so did Brenton.

 

Brenton and John Smith enjoyed themselves next morning in the car. The young man had ridden a bike and assured Brenton that he knew the Highway Code. He drove carefully and slowly, even though the car’s top speed was only forty kilometres an hour. Control was intuitive with automatic gears. Brenton trusted John Smith enough by midday to feel confident in allowing himself to be chauffeured.

 

John Smith settled into his new home and his new responsibilities over the following days. His master’s requests guided him in his tasks and John Smith began to understand the restrictions and disabilities his master encountered. Unobtrusively, he assisted when help was needed. Neither man made comment. Their co-operation became natural. For the first time, Brenton began to enjoy his limblessness and his demanding prostheses, secure in the knowledge that a caring and watchful pair of handsome eyes were admiring his every movement. John Smith’s fetishistic admiration for his master’s artificial limbs grew stronger. He loved seeing the minimal stumps and appreciated the power his master projected even when physically helpless. The toothless and armless figure laying in bed was the last thing he saw every evening and John Smith’s admiration evolved into love. Another deep-seated feeling also grew in him. He wanted a stump of his own. He dared not mention it until an appropriate moment arose.

 

Brenton announced that in two days time, they would be taking a holiday of sorts. Brenton explained that he had volunteered to help out at a private clinic for young male amputees and would be taking John Smith along to assist him. They had comfortable digs in a genuine manor house and could feel completely at home there.

            – I hope you don’t mind being uprooted once again so soon after your arrival, John Smith. But I hardly think it fair to leave you here on your own while I meet interesting new amputees.

            – I’m sure I’ll be able to fit in, sir. Is it your job to be a male nurse?

            – That’s exactly right. On this occasion, we’ll be taking care of three young men who have had bilateral arm amputations.

            – Like yourself, sir.

            – Indeed. And before they get their artificial arms, someone will have to help them with things like meals and in the bathroom.

            – I understand, sir. Will there also be other occasions when we help at the clinic, sir?

            – Yes, I expect there will be. The clinic also takes care of leg amputees.

            – But they can at least feed themselves, can’t they, sir?

            – Yes. They usually use wheelchairs while they are on the premises and crutches after they are discharged until they can get themselves a wooden leg.

            – It’s quite interesting, isn’t it, sir?

            – What is? Do you mean the amputations?

            – Yes sir. Sometimes I think of how it would be to have a leg stump and to walk on an artificial leg. It looks so good when a man walks with a limp and then you notice that he must be wearing a wooden leg.

            – Does it excite you when you see a man like that?

            – Er, yes sir. There were sometimes leg amputees at the hotel and I saw their artificial legs standing beside their beds before they got up. Once I served a man who had two long artificial legs, sir.

            – That must have been interesting for you.

            – Yes, it was, sir. I began to think how it must feel to be legless and to wear beautiful wooden legs.

            – John Smith, you are full of surprises. Next you’ll be asking to have a leg off.

            – Oh no, sir. I’d never want to inconvenience you. How would I be able to help you if I were disabled? And how could I simply ask a doctor to cut my leg off?

            – Where there’s a will, there’s a way. A rueful saying, don’t you think? But apt in this case. I’m sure you would be able to continue in your duties with an artificial leg. Or a wooden leg, as we’ve been calling them. John Smith, we’ll talk of this matter again.

            – Yes sir.

 

Brenton drove them to Menard House on Saturday morning in just over an hour. John Smith had fitted a pair of Bluetooth speakers to the dashboard and they listened to music streaming from Brenton’s phone. Jame and Garret were present already and Judson had taken his Range Rover to Oxford to collect the patients. Brenton introduced his assistant. John Smith shook hands solemnly and stood back to let the former colleagues exchange their news.

            – John Smith! Would you make us some coffee? Make enough for yourself and come and join us at table.

            – Where did you find him, Brenton? He’s gorgeous.

            – We just ran into each other and it was love at first sight. It’s none of your business, Jame, you old lecher. And for your information, there is nothing sexual.

            – Well, I think it’s great that you’ve found a companion, Brenton.

            – Thank you, Garret. That’s exactly how I feel about him. A companion.

John Smith brought a tray with four mugs of fresh coffee and joined the men. They asked him about his past and were charmed by his honest replies and open nature.

 

Judson returned after a couple of hours with the three future amputees. They were introduced to the team and to John Smith, who shook their hands in the adult fashion. Brenton explained that he would be taking charge of their post-operative care and that John Smith would act as his assistant. The first amputations were scheduled for six o’clock that evening, when Peter Peck would lose his hands. Jeremy Kendall, the photographer, would go under the knife at ten on the morrow and awaken with forearm stumps and Gregory Hall, owner of the hat shop, would lose his hands just above the wrist starting at four. The men’s post-operative care would be identical for all three making Brenton’s and John Smith’s workload a little more predictable.

 

Garret excused himself and went to the surgical theatre to set up and test his camera equipment. The new editing software allowed several new visual features which he wished to use to make the amputations less clinical and more artistic. With six almost identical amputations to work on, a little visual experimentation was a welcome addition.

 

The men were not averse to a drink or two but restrained themselves for the rest of the evening. When all three patients were amputated and in coma, they might indulge. Judson mentioned that although they would be able to upload some new material to the dark web in the near future, they had no prospective leg amputees in the offing. Their audience preferred leg amputations. Brenton said nothing but remembered what John Smith had told him.

 

The three amputations went as planned. Peck was wheeled to a private recovery room, his stumps clad in conductive shrinkers to accelerate healing and ensure that he never suffered from phantom pain in his stumps. He would also lose the sense of touch which many arm amputees valued. Peck’s stumps, like those of his fellow patients, would be unfeeling flesh cores over which rigid prostheses could fit. For a man who desired to use hooks instead of hands, it was a perfect system. Experienced arm amputees regarded the new technology as an abomination, destroying whatever pleasurable and useful sensation might be left to the patient. Kendall and then Hall were maimed in the same way by Jame and taken to their own private recovery rooms. They would all be awoken on Monday morning and Brenton’s duties could begin.

 

John Smith proved his worth on Saturday evening when the four former fellow students relaxed in Judson’s home. The room would soon be at Brenton’s disposal, his and John Smith’s home for the next three weeks. John Smith served them with drinks with impeccable style and efficiency. Brenton gave him permission to taste some of the wines and spirits which he was serving from Judson’s family cellars but he politely declined. It did not seem the appropriate time and he was still unsure how well he could hold his drink. Besides, it was fun to show his master’s friends that he was not only a pretty face. With his tongue loosened by the booze, Brenton mentioned that John Smith had revealed himself as a wannabe. He wanted a leg off just above his knee for a long thigh stump and the possibility of wearing an artificial leg.

            – Well, you do know how to pick them, Brenton. You do realise that until you get back on the road, these hand amputees are the only material we’ll be able to upload. It would be a boost if we had a leg amp in the mix, don’t you think?

            – Are you suggesting that John Smith loses his leg before we leave here? How would that work?

            – Well, the patients will be up and about by the middle of next week and feeding themselves with their stumps. If Jame can find the time, he could nip back for a quick leg job before you leave. A young bloke like Smith would only need a week or ten days to recover well enough to use a wheelchair or crutches The only thing standing in the way is you, Brenton. Are you going to manage for a few weeks until Smith gets a leg from somewhere?

            – I imagine so. I managed well enough before he arrived.

            – What do you say, Jame? Are you up for a leg amputation in a couple of weeks?

            – It’s about time. Yes, I’ll be here.

            – I think it’s best for you to talk directly to John Smith to find out what he wants, Jame. Tell him about the electrolysis and so on.

            – I will. You’re going to have a one-legged servant, Brenton.

            – He’s not a servant. He’s my… my life companion.

 

The patients were all awake by Monday noon, inspecting their bandaged stumps with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. Brenton and John Smith visited them all several times a day with meals and drinks and checked up on them every couple of hours in between. Peck mentioned that his stumps itched and that he wanted to scratch them. Brenton recognised that the current was at its lowest permissible setting and upped it. On his later visit, Peck reported that the itching had ceased. John Smith stood by, waiting for his master to attempt something he might not be able to handle. He looked at the stumps, all of a slightly different length and wondered if his master would not have preferred something similar, given the chance.

 

Jame and Brenton came to an agreement about John Smith’s amputation and a date was set. Garret agreed to video the entire process but declined to promise a set delivery date for the video.

            – I’m a bit busy over the next couple of months. I don’t mind coming in for a day to do the camerawork but the editing might have to wait.

            – The main thing is that we have a leg online in the next few weeks.

            – Agreed. Don’t worry about me. John Smith will manage just fine with a stump.

 

The patients were soon up and about. Brenton invited them to make themselves comfortable in the lounge and discussed their options for prosthetic limbs. All of the patients wished to use hooks. There was the occasional arm amputee who wanted to sport a bare stump, usually a long forearm stump amputated a couple of centimetres above the wrist. Brenton’s arms had been manufactured by the state’s health service and he was assured of continued prosthetic care but the volamps’ situation was different. They needed private care and Judson had a contact who was specialising in prosthetic production. He could make arms and legs and had a vivid imagination. Some of his artificial legs were stunning examples of prosthetic art. Others replicated ancient prosthetic devices, like oversized hooks and traditional pirate peg legs. Amputees rarely chose such primitive devices for primary prostheses but there were men about who walked on carbon fibre replicas of wooden peg legs, artfully painted to resemble genuine oak.

 

The patients’ healing continued. Jame made an inspection one evening and allowed the trio to bare their stumps. They should continue to favour them and be aware that the lack of sensation did not mean they were not damaging the underlying tissue. John Smith looked at all the stumps and committed them to memory. They were beautifully shaped. The scars were hidden to the rear so the amputee himself would see only a perfectly smooth rounded stump in place of his hand. His penis began to react ever more strongly to seeing stumps and more alarming, he began to have an erection when putting his master to bed. The sight of his masters’ stumps suddenly triggered an insistent erection. He was used to the sensation when he saw an artificial limb or two on a man but now he was becoming aroused by the stumps themselves.

 

Judson turned up at about seven on Friday evening to transfer the dischargees to the railway station in Oxford, from where they would be left to their own devices. They had all received prior notice and addresses of two reliable prosthetists for their hooks. Brenton and John Smith wished them all success and were joined by Judson on his return. They sat on the sofa in the lounge with John Smith in the middle. Judson spoke first.

            – Tomorrow is the big day, young man.

            – I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what you mean.

            – You did say you wanted to lose your right leg and gain a long stump, did you not?

            – Er, yes sir.

            – Well tomorrow is the day. Jame will amputate your leg tomorrow evening. I assume you meant what you said. You were not trying to deceive us, I hope.

            – No sir! Really? Sir! My leg will be amputated tomorrow.

            – Yes, John Smith. It will. Don’t worry. I have given Jame and Garret instructions so you will have the long rounded stump you described to me. I hope you are happy about it, John Smith. Many people have gone to a lot of trouble to ensure that your stump will be what you want and it will not cost you anything.

            – Thank you, sir. Thank you, everyone! That’s wonderful!  My own stump. I expected I would have to wait for years before I could have one. Oh, thank you all so much! This is more than I could ever have wished for.

 

SUMMER 2031

 

John Smith became a right above knee amputee the following evening. Brenton stood by watching the process, ensuring that Jame produced the neatest possible suture. The phallic stump was beautifully proportioned. John Smith would be proud to display it. Before Garret finished videoing, Brenton stepped forward and caressed the cheek of his sleeping lover with a steel hook and momentarily regretted having lost his sense of touch. Jame wrapped the fresh stump in a conductive shrinker and the healing process began.

            – Are you going to be able to manage for a few days, Brenton? If you have any trouble, get in touch and someone will turn up to help.

            – Thanks. I’m sure we’ll be fine. As soon as the stump has healed enough, we’ll be returning home. There’s no need to spend the entire convalescence here.

            – As you wish.

Garret dismantled his photographic equipment, Judson cleared away all signs of the premises having recently been used for seven amputations and Jame ensured Brenton had everything available which John Smith would need for the next few weeks. Satisfied that Brenton could cope, they took their leave and a silence fell over Menard House.

 

Brenton kept John Smith in coma all Monday and most of Tuesday morning. He carefully removed the cannulas from John Smith’s arm and sat beside him until he began to revive. He washed John Smith’s face and watched the beautiful eyes.

            – Hello, John Smith. Are you awake? Can you understand me?

            – Ah, thirsty. Need a drink.

Brenton held a soaking sponge to John Smith’s face. The boy sucked on it.

            – Do you know where you are? We’re still at Menard House. The others have gone. It’s just you and me now. How do you feel?

            – I feel OK. Did they cut my leg off?

            – Yes, they did. You have a beautiful stump. It’s exactly how you described it.

            – I’m so glad, sir. Thank you.

            – No, John Smith. Thank you. I love your stump. It will make me very happy to see you as a disabled man. But first we have to get the stump healed. I want you to tell me if it is painful. Can you feel any pain now?

            – No sir, but I can sense that something has been done to my leg.

            – That’s good. Are you hungry? Would you like some soup?

            – Yes please, sir. That would be good.

            – Would you like your teeth?

            – Yes please, sir.

Brenton brought John Smith’s dentures and watched him place them in his mouth. He smiled and Brenton smiled back.

 

They left for home on Thursday afternoon. John Smith had learned how to replace his conductive shrinkers for standard ones. Brenton inspected the sutures carefully in the morning and announced that he thought they could leave Menard House. He made a light lunch, emptying the refrigerator and cleaned up. He packed their few clothes into their small suitcase and put it into the ‘car’. He parked it directly opposite the main entrance. John Smith dressed himself in his jeans and a hoodie. He folded the right jeans leg up into his waistband and slipped his foot into a trainer. He waited for his master to return.

            – Oh! You seem to be ready. You have a choice. You can have the wheelchair or a pair of crutches.

            – Oh, crutches please, sir.

            – Good. I’ll fetch you a pair. Then I need to clear your bed and we can be off.

            – I wish I could help you, sir.

            – I know. Be patient.

Brenton brought his newly disabled companion a pair of wooden crutches and instructed John Smith on how to adjust them. After a few minutes, John Smith stood holding the crossbars, waving his stump gently, feeling the surprising lightness of his stump and admiring the appearance of being a one-legged man.

            – You are very handsome, John Smith. Shall we go?

 

Brenton drove them home. John Smith insisted that he could still drive the car with one leg. Brenton agreed.

            – You can practise again in a couple of weeks. I want your stump to be fully healed before you pick up where you left off. Don’t be impatient. We’ll manage.

John Smith sat back in his seat and caressed his stump with both hands.

 

Brenton was back in his former situation and doing as much for the pair of them as possible. He allowed John Smith to rest and heal. The stump gradually shrank and attained its final girth. Jame had done excellent work shaping it and the sutures, now healed, were completely invisible from the front. Ten days after returning home, John Smith announced that he wanted to help out again and resume his duties.

            – I’m sure I can manage on crutches, sir.

            – I think it’s about time we started thinking about getting you a leg.

            – I’m not sure, sir. Would you be angry if I preferred to use crutches instead? I like being one-legged, you see sir. If I had a wooden leg, it would be like being two-legged again.

            – Hmm. Yes,  I understand. Well, it’s your decision but I would like you to have some kind of artificial leg.

            – I have been thinking about making one myself, sir.

            – Really? How would you do that?

            – I was thinking that we could get some plaster bandages – you know, the sort that doctors put on if you break your leg. We could make a plaster cast as long as my other leg. And then I could walk on it and it would look like I’ve got a broken leg. And I could just take it off when I don’t need it.

            – That’s quite a good idea. You have given it some thought after all, John Smith. I’ll tell Judson to order some bandages from his medical supplier and we can try it. I don’t think I can help make it. Perhaps Judson will do it for you.

            – I hope so, sir. I’ve never worn a cast before. It’s one of the things I have always wanted to try.

            – Good. I think you should have a cast. I’ll call Judson at lunchtime and ask him over.

 

Judson was amused by Brenton’s request. There was no need to order plaster bandages as he had a plentiful supply to hand at Menard House as well as rubber heels for walking casts. He agreed to drop by on Saturday afternoon to cast John Smith’s stump.

 

In the meantime, John Smith became adept at hopping and functioning barefoot on one leg. He left his crutches in the bedroom and assisted his armless master as before whenever necessary. They made several short trips into the centre of Aylesbury for shopping or for a meal and Brenton allowed the boy to drive home if traffic was light. The ‘car’ was as easy to drive with one leg as it was with two. John Smith wore cut-off jean shorts from which his stump extended. He was proud to be an amputee on traditional wooden crutches and hoped other young men were envious. He had not been recruited by Brenton to act as a lure for wannabe amputees but it was only a question of time. It would be to their mutual benefit if John Smith could also persuade admirers to undergo amputations at Menard House. Brenton would raise the subject with Judson at the weekend.

 

Judson turned up in his Land Rover with a bagful of medical supplies. He carried a foam rubber leg under his arm. He had sculpted a facsimile of a lower leg complete with a muscular calf and the suggestion of a foot. Its sole was flat making it easier to position the rubber heel. The foam leg needed only to be cut to a suitable length and taped to John Smith’s stump during the casting. When both stump and foam were covered with several layers of plaster bandage, the resulting cast would be robust enough to act as a peg for John Smith.

 

            – We had better do this in the bathroom, I think, young man. Plaster tends to be a little messy. I want you to strip naked because the cast needs to extend up to your backside. To all intents and purposes, you’ll actually be sitting on the top rim when you walk with it. It’s to stop your stump from poking down too far inside the cast. Well, shall we get started? That is a magnificent stump. I hope you’re pleased with it.

            – Yes sir, I am. It’s more than I could have ever wanted.

            – I’m very glad to hear it. Perhaps one day you would like to get a matching twin.

            – To lose my other leg, sir?

            – Yes, of course. Imagine walking around on your cast with crutches and with a handsome stump on the left.

            – That would be wonderful, sir.

            – You should discuss it with Brenton and we’ll see what can be arranged. Are you going to get an artificial leg?

            – No sir, not yet. It’s why we want to experiment with the full-length cast first.

            – Good show.

Judson wrapped cotton wool around the stump and began applying the wetted plaster bandages. He used more than usual. He wanted the cast to be sturdy. Slowly John Smith’s stump and the foam facsimile blended into an expanse of white plaster. Judson did a professional job and the result was smooth, even and well-formed. Brenton admired the shapely calf and the short protrusion to suggest a foot. When the cast was almost dried, Judson added the rubber heel to the base and more plaster bandage to make a heavy rounded foot.

            – Now you just have to wait for it to dry. It won’t take long. Try not to put your weight on it just yet. Is it comfortable around the top edge?

            – Yes sir. It feels very solid.

            – Good. See you shortly. Brenton, you had something, I believe.

            – I did. Let’s go and sit down.

 

            – I hope you don’t mind me suggesting the second amputation, old boy. Let him have his fun with his stump for a year or two and then he can advance to DAK with prosthetics. You won’t want him in a wheelchair, I assume.

            – No, certainly not. I agree that he can keep his leg for the time being but I want him on artificial legs by Christmas next year. He’d be an attractive example for devotees.

            – Which brings me back to the subject. How much does he know already?

            – It’s difficult to know how much he has deduced for himself. He is a bright lad and has already seen perfectly healthy men turned into amputees. I think he is trustworthy enough to be told a little more about our services.

            – Good. It would be useful to have a leg amputee with you on your travels, especially one as attractive as John Smith. Have you decided on your next venture yet?

            – Only that it will be the West Country. There are lots of students in the coastal towns who might be interested in being amped while they are in this country away from awkward circumstances in their own countries. I’ll give John Smith a few days to get used to his cast before I take him on a venture.

            – Make sure he takes his crutches with him.

            – Yes, of course. I want his stump on display in public.

            – Good man. I’m sure you’ll have another successful tour. Right. Let’s see how the boy is doing.

 

            – How does it feel, young man? Is it still warm?

            – No sir. It just feels normal now.

Judson rapped on the cast. It sounded solid around the stump and hollow below the knee.

            – I think it’s safe for you to start using it. Put your weight on it and take a step forward. If it feels like it’s starting to slip, we can put some extra socks on.

John Smith, otherwise naked, heaved the cast forward. Brenton stood back to let him pass. John Smith pegged into the hallway, turned and came back with a huge grin on his face.

            – It feels so good. Thank you so much, sir. It’s wonderful.

            – I’m very glad to hear it. While I am here, we could make a stump sheath for you. You could wear it when you are doing physical work and it would protect your stump against knocks. Would that be useful for you?

            – Yes sir. I think it would. Shall we make it now?

            – No time like the present. Take the cast off – do you need help?

            – No, I think I can manage, sir.

John Smith gripped the cast and slowly withdrew his stump. Judson took the cast and reached in to remove the foam rubber lower leg and pieces of tape from the interior.

            – Keep this safe somewhere and we can use it again.

Brenton took the facsimile in a hook and watched Judson wrap more cotton wool bandage around his boy’s stump. The plaster cast took shape and Judson smoothed it again. It was a thicker version of the stump.

            – You will probably need to wear this with a belt. Drill some holes at the front and back and side and you can thread some elastic through them and attach it to a belt around your waist. Brenton will help you, won’t you, Brenton?

            – Of course.

            – Thank you, sir.

 

Judson waited a few more minutes until he was satisfied that the plaster sheath was comfortable for the boy.

            – Keep me informed of your plans for your next venture and remember what we agreed about the other matter. Your relationship with John Smith would be in jeopardy if he ever discovered the site. He would feel victimised, especially after his next amputation. You know how subscribers enjoy seeing new DAKs. He’s going to be one of the top ten, beyond any doubt.

            – Thank you for your concern, Judson. I do understand the situation. I was not born yesterday.

            – Alright. Just so you know to be careful. Must be off. I think you may be needed in the bathroom. Sorry about the mess.

            – Don’t worry about that. John Smith will clean it up.

Judson let himself out and shortly his car accelerated away towards the university.

 

John Smith could not decide what he wanted to wear. The sheath felt extremely comfortable and looked great – a stump in a plaster cast, like it was broken. And the long leg cast with the odd bulge where a foot should be with toes peeking out. It looked very unique and disabled. He wanted to wear it immediately. He asked his master.

            – Of course you can wear it. I want to see you walking with a stiff leg. It’s what makes long plaster casts so attractive. No-one would ever guess that you don’t have your own leg.

            – Unless they saw the foot, sir.

            – Yes, I see what you mean. It is a remarkable shape, isn’t it? I like the look of it very much.

            – So do I, sir. Oh, thank you so much for all this, sir. I’m so pleased.

 

John Smith wore his long cast until bedtime except for when he cleaned the splashes of plaster from the bathroom floor and walls. For that, he wore the sheath.

 

Over the coming days, John Smith found it necessary to wear a stump shrinker and several socks with his cast in order to use it from morning till night. There was enough room for a rigid adult leg in the front of the ‘car’ enabling him to drive without needing to remove the cast first. He limped noticeably which Brenton found attractive. The rubber heel provided a single pivot point for walking. The cast was very much like a peg leg in that respect. Brenton busied himself with planning a route to Devon and Cornwall. He had discussed the venture with John Smith who had initially been excited by the idea of visiting the seaside until Brenton explained John Smith’s new role as a lure for wannabes.

            – I want you to bare your stump all the time while we are on holiday. No casts. I want you on crutches and in shorts so the tip of your stump is on view. Do you understand?

            – Yes sir.

            – And there is another matter I want to talk to you about. If you get into a conversation with another young man who asks you about your stump and who says he has always wondered about what it would be like to have a stump, or if he says that he wants to lose a leg, I want you to quietly let them know that you can help them, if they really want to have a stump. Do you understand?

            – Yes, of course, sir.

            – If you trust the young man, you can tell them that you have a voluntary amputation. If they ask how it was possible, you can tell them that you can help them get their own stump, if they really want. Are you with me?

            – Yes sir. If someone shows an interest in my stump and says they’d like their own stump, I can tell them I know how to get one.

            – Quite right. Nothing difficult about that, is there?

            – No, sir.

            – So the next thing to do is to take their email address or phone number and tell them that someone will get in touch with them about it a little later. If they ask the price, just say it’s a lot less expensive than going abroad and paying a dodgy surgeon in Thailand or Mexico.

            – I understand, sir. Then I give you their details and you will help them get their amputations.

            – That’s exactly right. I will. I’m sure you’d like to help friendly young men get stumps of their own, wouldn’t you, John Smith? You like your own stump, don’t you? It would be kind of you to help other young men get stumps of their own, don’t you think?

            – Yes sir. It would be good to help people like myself who never thought they could have a stump. I’m so grateful for mine.

            – I know. You’re such a handsome amputee on your crutches and your long stump is so exciting to see.

            – Thank you, sir. Of course I’ll help the other young men.

 

Brenton arranged for bed and breakfast in several intermediate towns along the way. They had jointly agreed to travel in the ‘car’ because it would be useful in their final destinations where public transport was sparse and unreliable. Brenton plotted a viable route using minor roads, well away from heavy tourist traffic. They would make their slow journey part of the holiday and enjoy visiting forgotten villages and small towns. The other advantage was the saving in board. John Smith was excited by the idea of visiting new places where he would show off his stump and skill at walking on crutches in the hope that a new friend might ask about his stump. They decided the first destination would be Exeter, although they would stop overnight halfway, and Brenton found a pleasant b&b a mile or so from the town centre. Regardless of where they stopped, there was always the chance that someone would be attracted by Brenton’s hooks or John Smith’s stump.

            – Will I be able to wear my cast when we are away, sir?

            – No, I’m afraid not. You should always have your stump visible for admirers. You know your cast makes it look like you only have a broken leg.

            – Yes, I understand, sir.

 

The pair of amputees attracted attention wherever they stopped. Halfway to Exeter, Brenton ordered John Smith to stop and charge the ‘car’ in a station car park. They left it and found a cosy pub for lunch. Brenton was feeling lazy and allowed John Smith to sit beside him and feed him. He rested his black carbon arms on the table. John Smith’s wooden crutches rested against the table and a chair. Locals looked at them in amazement. One or two recalled grandfathers who had worn a hook, usually as a result of a farm injury, but no-one had ever seen a young man wearing two artificial arms being fed by another man. Several middle-aged farmers nursed unexpected erections at the idea of wanking with hooks or rubbing the tip of a leg stump into a mate’s genitals behind the cowshed.

 

They arrived at their Exeter b&b the next morning. John Smith registered for both of them and they left their small suitcases in their room. Brenton drove them into the centre of Exeter in time to catch the beginning of the regular evening Happy Hour. It was a bright afternoon and they sat outside in a beer garden. John Smith attracted attention with his visible stump and crutches until patrons spotted his companion’s black prosthetic arms.

 

Brenton casually watched the other patrons. He was on the alert for anyone showing more interest than was socially acceptable. Two middle-aged men entered and chose a table a couple of meters away. They appeared not to have noticed anything amiss yet although they both had a full view of their amputee neighbours. One of them caught Brenton’s eye and he nodded.

            – What do you want? The usual? Right, I’ll get them.

The speaker got up and walked towards the saloon.

            – John Smith, would you go and order two more beers? Ask the bartender if someone can bring the beers out for you.

John Smith collected his crutches and rose. He manoeuvred himself around and made off to order more beer. The man from the neighbouring table was being served when he placed his order and asked for assistance.

            – Er, I think you’re sitting next to us, aren’t you? I’ll bring your drinks out if you like.

            – Thank you, sir. That is kind of you.

            – Don’t mention it. Excuse me, do you have a tray for these beers?

The bartender loaded the tray and John Smith swung back to give his helper room. He moved smoothly back to the table and sat down, placing the crutches on the ground next to him. His helper greeted Brenton and explained that he had brought their drinks out.

            – That’s very good of you. Thank you. As you can see, we are both disabled after our own fashion.

            – It must be very inconvenient for you.

            – Oh, we get by. Don’t we, John Smith? My name is Brenton Harter, by the way.

            – Pleased to meet you. I’m Chas Decker and that is my cousin Arnie Decker.

Brenton reached over with his right hook and shook their hands.

            – Are you visiting our fair town?

            – Yes. We just arrived. We’re making our way down to Cornwall, stopping off in interesting places. How about you?

            – Oh, we’re locals. We both work on the family’s apple orchard. Apples for cider.

            – Is business good?

            – Ha! Business is always good if you make cider. It never goes out of style. Yes, we make a comfortable living, I suppose you could say.

            – Glad to hear it. I’ve had to retire from my profession due to these.

            – That’s unfortunate. What business were you in?

            – Medical surgery. Specifically surgery of the upper and lower extremities.

            – Arms and legs, you mean.

            – Yes, arms and legs. Kind of ironic that someone specialising in amputations should undergo two of his own, don’t you think?

            – I suppose so. You look remarkably well on it, though.

            – As I said, we get by. I’m still a novice but life gets a little easier day by day.

They raised their glasses to each other and drank to their good health. Brenton noticed that the introductory conversation led to the man called Chas paying a far greater interest in his prostheses than might be expected. He wanted a word with this bumpkin with the country accent. If only his cousin would go inside for a moment.

            – What’s it like, running an orchard?

            – It depends how you look at it, really. We’re dealing with a natural product so we have to keep an eye on that side of things but otherwise it’s pretty much mechanised these days.

            – You mean I could do it?

            – Well, to be honest, I think you probably could. Are you looking for a job?

            – No, not at the moment. Thank you for asking. What’s the name of the finished product?

            – Uncle John’s Old-Fashioned Cider. Most of our distributors are here in the south-west.

            – Cider is a lovely drink but there’s not much call for it further north. They like their ale up there.

            – Chas, excuse me gents. I have to take a leak.

Cousin Arnie got up and strolled inside.

            – Chas, I hope you don’t mind me bringing it up but you seem to be fascinated by my arms.

            – Oh, I apologise. But it’s true. They are something special. I probably shouldn’t say it but I’ve been attracted by the idea of having an accident on purpose on the farm and losing an arm. I’d love to use a hook. My father was an amputee, you see. I know quite a lot about the whole business.

            – Would you like your own amputation?

            – Actually, I’d like two. If I could have the ideal body, I’d have a stump above my elbow and a stump like your companion. I’m sorry if I’m being inconsiderate but your friend has a very nice leg stump. I’d love to have the same.

            – So you’d like to have two stumps.

            – I would. I’m pretty sure I’d be back at work within a couple of months.

            – Yes, so am I. Listen, before Arnie comes back, give me your phone number and I’ll contact you later. I can arrange a couple of amputations through the university if you really want to go through with it. It’ll cost you about ten thou but I’m sure you can find that.

            – Are you serious?

            – Oh, very serious. My amputations were traumatic but John Smith chose what kind of stump he wanted.

Chas Decker stared at the handsome face of the one-legged boy and handed over his business card with a fine photograph of a glistening pint of cider on the reverse.

            – Send a message or call after eight any evening.

            – I will. Ah, here comes Arnie.

He was carrying four more drinks. Brenton relaxed. He was fairly certain that the first one was in the bag. He leaned over and murmured to John Smith.

            – Don’t drink any more beer. You have to drive us back. I’m going to have a drink tonight.

John Smith looked at his master and smiled. He understood what had just happened. The other three finished off John Smith’s beers. Arnie brought him a glass of non-alcoholic cider to compensate.

 

The foursome sat for another two hours, chatting amiably about the town and its history and the most interesting places to visit on their journey westwards. The men admired the sight of John Smith crutching inside to relieve himself. Chas Decker felt something close to love for the boy and determined then and there that he would borrow the ten thousand in order to gain the stumps he had lusted after since his distant boyhood.

 

The farmers left first, wishing them a good evening.

            – How are you feeling, John Smith? Do you feel drunk?

            – No sir.

            – Do you think you can drive?

            – Yes, of course, sir. I’m fine.

            – OK. Shall we go back to the b&b?

Brenton felt the effect of five pints and was unusually talkative, emphasizing how he had steered Chas Decker into admitting his desire to be an amputee. John Smith said he was sure he would be able to do the same if the opportunity arose.

            – It’s opportunities like that we have come here for, John Smith. When we have several young men who need amputations, we can relax for a couple of days and make our way home.

 

 From Exeter, they travelled due south to Torquay. Brenton had booked a room in a small hotel on the outskirts at the top of a hill. At the start of the season, it was half empty and the couple who ran the place were welcoming and concerned for the welfare of their unexpectedly handicapped guests, especially the lovely fresh-faced boy on crutches. Their hostess asked if they would like to change their allocated room to the smaller but more convenient disabled room on the ground floor. John Smith raised his eyebrows at Brenton, who understood that the boy would fare better in an adapted room and thanked the woman. She escorted them, pointed out the features which differentiated it from the other rooms and left them to unpack.

 

            – You have an adapted bathroom, John Smith. Tell me if you find it preferable to ours at home and we can make some changes for you.

            – Thank you, sir. I will. Shall we be going to town this evening?

            – Yes, I think so. I want to go to a place with foreign students. There are lots of Scandinavians who come to Torquay to improve their English. Apparently there are lots of language schools here. I’m sure you would soon make friends with someone who likes your stump. Remember to ask gently if they would really like to have their own stump. It always has to be the other person’s own free will. We must never try to persuade anyone.

            – No sir. I realise that. Except that we do persuade them, don’t we, sir? They see our stumps and are persuaded to talk to us.

            – Yes, they are. You are very astute. Are you ready? Shall we go and show them what happy amputees look like?

 

Brenton drove into the town centre and parked in an empty space on the High Street where a concrete flowerbed had once stood. The amputees were both wearing T-shirts and shorts and searched for a coffee bar or similar which would be popular with young people willing to socialise. They spotted an ice cream bar which sold coffees with a few metal tables and chairs outside.

            – We’ll sit there and let people see us.

            – Yes sir. Shall I go in and order something?

            – I think they probably have a waiter. Let’s just sit.

            – Good afternoon, gentlemen. Would you like to order?

            – Good afternoon. I would like some rum and raisin ice cream and an espresso, please. What would you like, John Smith?

            – Strawberry ice cream please and a glass of water.

 

A few minutes later, they had their order. None of it was viable with bilateral hooks. John Smith looked at Brenton and raised his eyebrows.

            – Ice cream.

John Smith scraped a spoonful of ice cream from the tall fluted glass and fed it to Brenton. He repeated it until Brenton nodded and then tasted his own ice cream. Brenton scanned the street, watching for tell-tale reactions to his glossy black arms. John Smith had propped his crutches between the table and a chair for support. They were conspicuous although his long stump was not. Brenton watched a group of three tall students pointing either at them or at the empty tables around them. They walked over. Brenton made eye contact with two of them. They sat at the neighbouring table, nodded an acknowledgment in an un-English fashion and glanced through the menu, muttering in German. They ordered coffees with water and sat back to watch the passers-by. Except for one who cast furtive glances at John Smith, trying to work out why he had a pair of crutches. They made eye contact.

            – Hallo! Have you hurt your leg?

            – Er, yes. I have lost my leg.

            – What is ‘lost’?

            – Verloren – lose, lost, have lost.

            – Ach! You have no leg? I am sorry.

He was not sorry. He was intensely interested and excited. His mind was constantly imagining stumps and artificial legs. He had a severe case of body integrity disorder which was currently particularly strong for some reason. He had noticed Brenton’s prostheses but was not interested in arms.

            – My name is Johan. It is nice to meet you. Do you live here?

            – I’m John Smith. Just visiting. I’m on holiday with my friend.

Brenton glanced at the pair of boys and let them continue. His espresso was getting cold.

            – I am studying with my friends English. We live in a hotel for students for the summer. It is a very beautiful town.

            – Yes, it is.

John Smith suspected that Johan might like to see his stump.

            – May I sit at their table, sir?

            – Of course. Let me have some coffee.

John Smith was mortified that he had forgotten. He lifted the tiny thick cup to Brenton’s lips and tipped it. The coffee was lukewarm and Brenton drank it in one gulp. Johan watched them.

            – Johan, I can come there, if there is room.

            – Yes, of course.

Johan scraped his chair around the table to make room for his new friend. John Smith stood and hopped across to the empty chair. Johan stared at the bouncing thigh stump and his penis began to erect.

            – Have you been long an… amputieren?

            – Amputee? No, not long. Do you like my stump?

Johan looked at his friends, desperate to get to know the beautiful young Englishman better and learn everything about his amputation and stump and prosthetics but unwilling to expose himself as a devotee and wannabe to them. It was taboo. They were talking to each other, ignoring him.

            – It looks very good.

            – I like it very much.

            – I would like a – what is the word?

            – Stump. It’s a stump. I have a stump.

            – You are a good teacher. I will remember now. Yes, I would like a stump just as yours.

Brenton turned his head. How would John Smith steer the conversation? Perhaps he could join the young Germans later in the evening and recruit Johan in private.

            – It would be nice if you could have something that you want. Are you staying in Torquay for long?

            – Our language course is six weeks. We are already here for one week.

Johan would have plenty of time to gain a stump and recover in time to return to Germany one-legged. He would miss out on irregular verbs in the sunshine but it was a small sacrifice to pay.

            – I would like to see you again, Johan. Please give me your phone number. I will call you when I am free.

            – This evening?

            – I hope so. I don’t know what my friend wants to do.

            – Oh, that is clear. Give me your phone and I give my contact number.

He typed his number in and handed the phone back. John Smith tested it immediately and seconds later, Johan’s phone rang.

            – It works! I will call you later, OK? Now I think I should join my friend again. It was nice to meet you, Johan. I hope to see you again later.

            – Ah, you’re back. Are you ready? Shall we go?

            – Yes sir.

John Smith nestled his crutches under his arms and inched his way out of the tangle of chair legs. The German boys watched the unusual pair leave.

 

            – I think the boy I was talking to wants to lose a leg, sir.

            – Yes, I was listening. Perhaps you can help him.

            – I hope so, sir.

 

They strolled away from the beach. It was easier to attract attention away from crowds and other distractions. Any curious onlookers had the chance to follow them in the hope of relaxing in the same venue, grabbing an eyeful of stump or hooks. Brenton asked John Smith if he would like a drink.

            – A cider, please sir. It was very nice yesterday.

            – You can have one. You mustn’t have more. I want you to drive back later. That looks like a nice pub. We can sit on that bench and watch people. Sit down. I’ll get the drinks.

 

Brenton stepped inside and soon returned with a bartender bearing two pints of cider who was startled to see a young leg amputee waiting for the man with hooks. He managed a greeting after staring at the stump for a few moments. He went back inside to settle his nerves. His best friend had lost a leg at eighteen and the stump was like John Smith’s. They made love dozens of times, always centred around the wondrous phallic leg stump. The friend had since emigrated and was lost to the past. It would be fantastic to relive the experience. Even better to have his own leg off, to have a stump of his own, thick and hairy. He stood behind the bar polishing glasses, leaning gently against some woodwork kneading his erection. Brenton had noted his stare and might have a word a little later.

            – I think you should spend the evening with your new German friend. I want you to enjoy yourself while we are on holiday. You can drive me to our digs and come back in the car to meet your friend. Tell him everything about your amputation and how he can have his own stump. If he asks how much it costs, tell him two thousand pounds. He should have that much money with him. If not, we’ll work something else out.

            – So I should tell him that he can have his amputation before he goes back home.

            – Yes. If we can find a couple more patients during our visit, I’ll be able to persuade the medical students to give up a weekend. I’ll phone them about their schedules later. It would be good if we could get your friend into surgery next weekend. He doesn’t have a lot of time for a good recovery before he leaves the country.

            – It would be wonderful if he could be like me, sir. The same kind of stump. I think that’s what he really wants more than anything.

            – Yes, I do too. Well, let’s hope we can help him. Do you like your cider?

            – It’s a little sweet. Perhaps it’s supposed to be. I don’t know. It’s quite nice.

            – Alright. Remember you must not have any alcohol tonight if you want to drive back. If you want to spend the night with Johan, make sure the car is parked safely. You can stay out all night but I want you to collect me by ten o’clock tomorrow morning.

            – You mean I can stay with Johan, sir?

            – Yes, that’s what I mean. You’re old enough to decide these things. I expect Johan would like you to sleep with him if you agree.

            – Oh, thank you, sir. That would be fun.

 

It was. Brenton downed another cider while John Smith texted Johan that they could meet later. Johan said he would be at his digs and gave the address. John Smith drove Brenton back to their b&b on the outskirts of Torquay and made sure that his master had everything to hand. Brenton assured him that he would call for room service if he needed anything and that he should enjoy his evening. John Smith crutched back to the car and drove to the student hotel where Johan was waiting for him.

 

Johan was in the foyer with three Swiss girls. They were all laughing and joking about their different dialects. John Smith crutched inside and looked around. Johan spotted him and leapt up to greet his new friend. John Smith was too shy with girls to want to sit at their table so Johan said Tschüss and left the hotel with his arm lightly resting on his amputee friend’s shoulders.

            – This way, Johan. I have a car.

            – Oh, that is wonderful. Where will we go?

            – Do you know a nice place? I have only been here a short while.

            – I know a nice place near the beach. They play music and there are lots of students from different countries. Would you like to see it?

            – Yes, let’s go there. Tell me the way.

John Smith let his friend into the back seat of the ‘car’ and motored down to the sea front. Johan pointed which direction he should go and they soon reached an open air disco. John Smith parked in a corner of the sandy car park and crutched along with his German friend into the music and lights. Johan looked around for familiar faces, but, seeing none, pointed at a table near the entrance.

            – We sit here. I will buy some drinks. What do you like?

            – Just cola, please. I must not drink beer when I have the car.

            – No. I understand. A moment.

Johan waited for several minutes in the crowd around the bar and returned with lavishly decorated glasses of cola.

            – I had a friend in school. He lost his leg and his stump was like yours. We were very good friends.

            – What happened to him?

            – You mean, what did he do? He was in a… Unglück with a car. And so they amputeer his leg. What is Unglück in English?

            – Accident. A car accident.

            – Ah, it is same in French. Did you have also accident?

            – No. Johan, tell me the truth. I think you want a stump, don’t you?

            – Yes, it is true. I would like to have a stump like yours. It is very beautiful and you walk so good on your… Krücken.

            – Crutches. I walk on crutches. Thank you, Johan. I have a secret.

            – Oh? What is that?

            – It was no accident. I wanted to have a stump. I know how you can get a stump before you go back to Germany. You can go home on crutches with only one leg and a beautiful new stump.

            – Unmöglich! How is it possible?

            – Just trust me. If you want to have a stump, you must leave the student course and go to a clinic for the amputation. Do you understand?

            – Yes, I think so. But I am here only a few weeks.

            – It’s OK. I think the amputation can be on Saturday.

            – Really? Is this a joke?

            – No. It’s not a joke. You can see my stump. It’s not a joke. It’s real. You can touch it if you want.

Johan needed no further encouragement. He leaned forward and cupped John Smith’s stump in his hands. A shiver ran up John Smith’s thigh and manifested itself in his groin. Johan inspected the stump and the light hair covering it.

            – How do I go to the clinic?

            – My friend will help you. You remember the man with the hooks?

            – Yes, of course.

            – He will explain.

            – How much does it cost?

            – I don’t know exactly but about two thousand pounds.

            – Oh! All my holiday money will go!

            – But you will have free food and you will go direct to the airport on crutches. Just take all your things to the clinic.

            – And this will happen on Saturday?

            – I am not sure. My friend will tell you. He must make the arrangements.

            – I don’t understand arrange…

            – He will help you.

            – Ah, OK. I love your stump, John.

            – You can have one like it too, Johan.

 

They spent a couple of hours together, facing the crowd dancing and talking in a dozen languages. No-one else wanted to sit with them after spotting John Smith’s old-fashioned crutches. Johan fondled the stump for as long as he dared until his erection subsided. They spent the night together in Johan’s hotel room. John Smith had to register with the concierge and needed to show some form of identification when the concierge expressed doubt about his name. Johan gave John Smith a condom and showed him how to roll it on to his penis. John Smith lost his virginity that night to a handsome young German. Johan taught John Smith the pleasures of having a stump, none of which John Smith had suspected. He began to associate the sensations from his stump with those he felt in his groin. It was remarkable. He was confused in the morning by what he had done but not sorry.

            – I have to go now, Johan. My friend is waiting for me.

            – I love you, John. I want to see you again.

            – We will see each other at the clinic. I have to go.

John Smith crutched out and drove back to Brenton through the cool morning air. He had learned the power of his stump, not only to influence others but also to provide sexual pleasure. Brenton was happy to see him but not curious. He could guess what had happened.

 

            – Johan wants his leg off, sir. He wants a stump exactly like mine. I told him it would cost about two thousand pounds and that you would send him the details.

            – Very good, John Smith. That is exactly what we want. Give me his phone number.

John Smith sent a message to Brenton’s phone with the number.

            – I have an idea. When your friend Johan is an amputee, would you like him to stay with us to recover? I’m worried that a language course in Torquay is not the best environment to recuperate. If you sleep in my bed with me, he can have yours.

            – That would be wonderful, sir. I could teach him how to use crutches.

            – That’s what I was thinking. There is another thing and I hope you won’t be disappointed. Today is our last day on holiday. We have to get back home to start preparing for the amputations. I want you to make sure that Johan knows how to travel from Torquay to Oxford station. I don’t care how he gets there. But he has to be in Oxford on Saturday at two o’clock for Judson to collect him.

            – When will we be leaving, sir?

            – Tomorrow morning immediately after breakfast. We’ll stay at a hotel halfway tomorrow night.

            – Can I meet Johan again today?

            – Yes. I’ll come with you. I want this young man to understand his schedule from now on. He will not be returning to Torquay as an amputee. 

 

Brenton had spent much of the previous evening persuading Jame and Garret to cancel a canoeing trip in Wales in favour of three amputations.

            – Don’t complain. You can go canoeing any time. We need some new material online and all of these are leg jobs. One of them wants an arm off too and double amputations are popular.

            – OK. As long as Garret agrees, I’ll be there. No point in amputating a wannabe’s leg if there’s nothing in it for us.

            – I’ll make sure Garret turns up. I want to have a word with him, too, by the way. It’s taking too long for him to post online. He wants to play around with special effects too much. The only thing anyone wants to see is the amputations, not his artiness.

            – Alright, Brenton. Don’t get excited. Have you got the keys or should Judson be there too?

            – I’ve got the keys but I’ll let Judson know what we’re up to.  Next Saturday, alright? A third patient might turn up on Sunday. I don’t know for sure. With any luck, you’ll be able to leave Sunday afternoon.

Judson was pleased about the increasing activity and promised to stop by Menard House on Saturday in order to ferry the prospective amputees from Oxford.

 

John Smith busied himself for an hour, packing their two suitcases as much as was practical. Brenton sent Johan a message requesting his presence at midday. He should look for their ‘car’ parked in the main street. Brenton intended to let John Smith and the German boy spend the rest of the day together. Johan could skip classes. They left their digs and Brenton drove into the town centre and along the promenade. The ‘car’ was classed as a four-wheeled bicycle and it was perfectly legal to drive at walking speed among the pedestrians. Young foreigners pointed at the oddly shaped vehicle. Most noticed the crutches resting upright inside the door and some of them even discerned that the driver had no hands. Brenton and John Smith were an unusual sight wherever they went. They knew it and enjoyed it.

 

Johan left his college at eleven thirty and walked to the high street. He could not see John’s car anywhere yet so he went to the ice-cream parlour again and sat outside to wait. Ten minutes later, the car appeared a hundred metres away and Johan signalled it to a stop. He stood by while Brenton reversed next to an electronic billboard and watched the man with hooks and his one-legged friend emerge.

            – Hello, Johan. It’s good of you to wait for us. Have you had lunch?

            – No, I have eaten ice cream.

            – So you started with dessert. Come with us. I will pay for lunch.

            – Thank you, sir.

John Smith and Johan hugged each other. They were both infatuated with the other. John Smith loved Johan for being his friend and Johan loved John Smith’s stump.

 

They went into a pizzeria and ordered lunch. Brenton spoke.

            – Your visit to our clinic is on Saturday. The price for you is two thousand pounds. Can you show me now that you have the money?

Johan accessed his German bank account and showed the balance. He had over four thousand euro to his name.

            – Very good. You can pay after the operation. Do you understand?

            – Yes, I understand.

            – Next thing. You will not return to Torquay. When you leave, you must have everything with you. Your clothes, your books. Everything. OK?

            – Yes sir.

            – After the clinic, you will stay with John Smith and me in our home until you go home to Germany.

            – Oh, wonderful! Thank you.

            – John Smith will teach you how to use crutches. And you can be together.

Johan looked at John Smith and gave his most beautiful smile. Brenton thought he would be a stunningly handsome amputee, envied by other men throughout his life.

            – John Smith will take you to the airport in our car or by train.

            – Thank you.

            – But first, you must travel from Torquay to Oxford railway station. You must be there at two o’clock on Saturday. A car will come to collect you and you will go to the clinic.

            – I understand. How do I get to Oxford station?

            – This is why I wanted to meet you today. How did you get to Torquay?

            – It was a bus from the Heathrow airport.

            – So you have not travelled on a train yet?

            – No sir.

            – Do you know where the station is?

            – Yes sir. I walk past it sometimes.

            – OK. I am going to buy you a ticket from here to Oxford now and I want you to send the money to me from your bank. Do you understand?

            – Yes, of course, sir.

            – Good. You will travel on the train from Torquay to a town called Swindon. In Swindon you will get off and wait for a train to Birmingham. It will stop in Oxford. Get off in Oxford and wait outside the station. A man will come in a white Range Rover car to get you at two o’clock. OK? He will ask you if you are waiting for someone. You must say ‘I am waiting for Mr Adams’. He will drive you to the clinic. OK?

 

John Smith found a map of railways in the south of the country and pointed out the route. Brenton tapped his phone for a couple of minutes until the connections were viable and paid for the through-ticket. A moment later, his phone announced the arrival of an email, which he showed to Johan.

            – Here’s your ticket for Saturday. It cost one hundred and eighty-five pounds. Now I want you to send me that money from your bank to mine.

Brenton contacted his bank and displayed his account number for Johan. The young man expertly transferred euros to Brenton’s sterling account and held up his phone to show that the transaction was complete. The money would appear in Brenton’s account the next morning. Brenton’s purpose was to check that the main money transfer for the boy’s amputation would succeed. Two thousand was a ridiculously low sum but he could do it as a favour to John Smith who would love to see his friend maimed in the same way as he was himself. Brenton forwarded the email and railway ticket to Johan.

            – Don’t lose your phone!

            – No sir. Thank you.

            – John Smith, listen to me. We leave tomorrow after breakfast. Nine o’clock at the latest. You can come back to our digs today or you can stay with Johan overnight. I am taking the car now. You’ll be spending the rest of the day on your crutches.

            – I understand, sir. I will send you a message this evening.

            – Very good. I hope you enjoy yourselves.

Brenton rose and paid at the counter. He strolled out to his ‘car’ and they watched it manoeuvre slowly down the street until it was lost to view.

            – What shall we do now?

            – Let us go to the strand. To the beach.

John Smith had hardly caught sight of the sea so the young men made their way to the narrow beach near the town centre where they could watch holidaymakers and boatmen and talk about stumps and artificial limbs.

 

Brenton returned to the bed and breakfast and contacted the orchard owner Chas Decker, announcing that his amputations were imminent. He would be collected from Oxford station at two on the coming Saturday afternoon with Johan. He confirmed that three amputations were certain with Judson, Jame and Garret. He wanted to bag another on his way home. He was certain that by walking around with John Smith in a provincial town centre, they might attract the attention of any passing devotee and strike up a conversation.

 

Johan bought enough cola drinks and ice cream to make them nauseous. Neither of them had enough protection from the sun and John Smith became aware that they were in danger when his stump began to itch.

            – We’re getting sunburned, Johan. We have to get inside.

            – It’s OK.

            – No, my stump is beginning to hurt. I can’t stay here. Come on. Let’s go and find some shade.

            – Let me carry your crutches and you can hold me.

They moved off the beach and approached a café with broad sunshades over elegant metal tables.

            – Let’s sit there. Would you like coffee? Ice cream?

            – No more ice cream, thanks. Coffee would be nice.

The boys sat quietly together. Johan was infatuated with John Smith whom he regarded as the epitome of male beauty. He was also excited by the approaching weekend. Firstly by the idea of travelling alone on an English train and secondly by the prospect of becoming an amputee exactly like John. He was also concerned about what his parents would say when he arrived back in Karlsruhe with only one leg. But it was not yet time to worry about that.

 

Johan wanted John to spend another night with him. John Smith messaged Brenton to ask permission and was pleased with the reply. The boys ate a fish and chip supper, sat around in the hotel foyer with one or two familiar students and Johan reported to the concierge that he would be leaving on Saturday morning, not to return. It was odd considering the language course still had four weeks to run but he had noticed the way Johan and John behaved together and guessed what was going on. It was no business of his. The boys went to Johan’s room and spent the evening talking about leg stumps. On his previous visit, John Smith had managed to conceal his dentures from Johan but he felt more confident now and dared remove them. Johan was almost shocked to see John’s toothless smile but felt more compassion for his vulnerable English friend.

 

The boys were awake at seven the next morning. John Smith bought a cheese and tomato roll for breakfast. He asked the concierge to call for a taxi, hugged Johan and promised they would meet again on Saturday at the clinic. John Smith crutched out to the approaching taxi and rode to the bed and breakfast in good time to help Brenton finish packing.

            – That was thoughtful of you to return so early, John Smith. Did you have a good time with Johan?

            – Yes, thank you, sir. We had our breakfast already, so I am ready to go.

            – Good. We need to make sure we have everything with us and I have a favour to ask.

            – Yes sir?

            – My left arm is a little loose. I want you to tighten the strap to the harness by about a centimetre.

John Smith made the adjustment.

            – I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you, sir.

            – Don’t worry about it. It’s good to meet people your own age. Will you come for something more to eat? Don’t forget we have a long drive ahead of us before dinner. What did you have for breakfast?

            – A cheese roll, sir.

            – That’s not enough. Let’s have some bacon and eggs.

John Smith crutched elegantly behind Brenton and they took places at a table to wait for their meals. John Smith fed Brenton and lifted a mug of strong tea to his lips. Shortly after, Brenton said he needed to defecate. John Smith accompanied him to the inva WC and assisted him in silence. He washed his hands, and Brenton left to collect their suitcases from their room. John Smith sat in the back of the ‘car’ for the first ninety minutes, when they stopped for a break before continuing eastwards with John Smith driving. Brenton was curious to know how John Smith regarded his emerging role as a recruiter and asked him to explain his feelings. John Smith acknowledged that it was a strange thing to do but felt no moral qualms about tempting healthy young men into losing limbs. The attraction or compulsion was there already, otherwise the wannabe would not have approached him. John Smith was acting only as a catalyst. Brenton was reassured by John Smith’s answers. The boy had obviously thought about what he was doing and found it acceptable. He cited Johan’s case as an example. There was nothing wrong in helping him to get the same kind of stump as he himself sported. It was good to help people who wanted to be amputees like them.

 

They arrived in Salisbury in the early evening, their halfway house, ate a hearty dinner and retired early for the night. The ‘car’ recharged overnight in the hotel’s parking lot. The next day was easier as they approached ever more familiar towns and roads. They were almost home. The light was turning golden when they arrived.

            – Good trip?

            – Yes sir. It was fun and interesting.

            – We have tomorrow to get ready for our stint at Menard House.

            – There’s not a lot to do though, is there, sir? Some laundry, I suppose. I was wondering sir – will it be possible for me to wear my cast instead of using crutches while we’re at the clinic?

            – Yes. I think you would be more useful with two hands free. Wear the cast. I’m sure Johan would like to see you wearing it.

            – I hope so, sir. I’ll take my crutches too. Then he’ll be able to look at my stump.

            – He’ll be looking at his own, I dare say.

 

Brenton was a little annoyed that no-one in Salisbury had spoken to them. Brenton reasoned that they had had extraordinarily good luck encountering so many wannabes with so little effort. It was not surprising that the return journey had been fruitless. But Jame would have his hands full at the weekend with three amputations, including a double. Garret would be able to create three separate videos from Decker’s amputations. Johan’s maiming would generate only one but might prove popular. It was always a pleasure to see a handsome young body enhanced by a stump or two. Despite the paltry price the boy was paying for the amputation itself, the documentary video might easily net a hundred thousand over the first year.

 

Brenton and John Smith arrived at Menard House first. They lived the closest and were still unsure how long any journey might take them. The ‘car’ had a top speed of only forty kilometres an hour and they wanted to give themselves enough time. Brenton let himself in and turned to wait for John Smith, striding along on crutches with his long rigid plaster cast.

            – The others will be here soon. Take the suitcase to our room and I’ll make some coffee.

            – Yes sir. May I leave my crutches here, sir?

            – Yes, but take them to our room later.

Jame and Garret turned up shortly in a taxi and greeted the amputees.

            – Oh, John Smith! That is an excellent disguise. Can you walk on it OK? Show me!

John Smith gave a demonstration to Jame and Garret of how he used the cast as a peg leg.

            – I have an idea. Let me get my camera.

He fetched his professional camera and beckoned to John Smith.

            – Let’s go outside. I want you to walk along the path as evenly as you can, turn around and walk towards me. Then turn to sit on the steps and take the cast off. Does it come off easily?

            – Well, fairly easily, sir. But it won’t come off if I just walk with it.

            – Good show. Then after that, I want you to take off the liners and massage your stump for about a minute. Do you understand?

            – Yes, of course sir.

            – And after that, you put the liners back on and put the stump into the walking cast and then you can get up and go inside. OK?

With any luck, Garret would be able to edit a five or six minute video demonstrating the unusual prosthesis. Another few thousand profit. Garret directed John Smith to the starting position and ten minutes later, was satisfied with what he had shot. He also had an erection caused by John Smith’s sensuous manipulation of his handsome, well-proportioned stump.

 

Judson arrived with the two future amputees shortly before three. Johan’s train was late. Brenton had explained his route, and that of Decker, in case the information might be useful. Johan had almost been distraught when he rushed out of the station at twenty past two, looking around in panic. Judson guessed who he was and strolled over.

            – Are you waiting for someone?

            – Yes. I am waiting for Mr Adams.

            – Good. I am Mr Adams. Come with me, please. Don’t worry about being late. Trains here are often late.

            – I’m very sorry.

            – It’s OK. Here’s my car. This is Chas, and Johan. We’ll be taking care of you for the next few days.

Judson climbed into the driver’s seat and drove off.

 

More introductions were held. Johan was overjoyed to see John Smith again and amazed by the long plaster cast.

            – It looks as you have broken your leg!

            – Do you like it?

            – Oh, I hope I can have one on my stump.

            – Judson, did you hear that?

            – Yes, Brenton, I did. Well, if Johan’s stump has settled enough before he returns home, I suppose I could drop in one evening to cast him. You still have the foam leg, don’t you?

            – Sure.

            – A few stump socks and he’ll be fine.

Judson stared at the young man who only had eyes for John Smith and wondered what the hell he was going to tell his parents. It would have to be quite a story. At first glance, the boy would seem to have a broken leg. A second glance would reveal a truncated foot with no toes. The truth would horrify any parent. He looked a sensible boy. Perhaps he would warn his parents beforehand that he had been injured. But it was none of Judson’s business. He only provided the facilities. Even so, it would be fascinating to be a fly on the wall.

 

Judson pulled Brenton aside and they went to his father’s library.

            – I want to talk to you about John Smith. You mentioned that he had caught the German lad. I assume you gave him some kind of instruction beforehand.

            – Yes, he’s well informed of what to say to anyone who mentions wanting a stump of their own.

            – But he doesn’t know any more than that, I hope.

            – If you are referring to the videos, of course not. Perhaps when he is more mature and begins to wonder what the source of our income is, I might explain the rest of it to him. I was talking to him about his role as a recruiter on the way back from Torquay and I’m satisfied that he sees it only as a positive thing.

            – So we don’t need to worry about him blabbing to someone.

            – No, because he doesn’t know.

            – The other thing was, have you decided when he’ll become a DAK? I have an idea which will net us a good supply of leg cases if we had a recruiter in a wheelchair.

            – Go on.

            – I want John Smith legless in a wheelchair and recruiting paraplegics. He can explain how much easier their lives could be if they didn’t have to lug useless legs around with them and the best thing to do would be to have their legs amputated two thirds of the way up the femur.

            – Oh, that sounds like a good idea. But I want him on legs, Judson. I don’t care if they’re real or artificial.

            – I know that. He can wear prossies around your flat. It’s up to you. But when he goes on a venture, I’d like him in a wheelchair. I think there are far more paraplegics around than wannabes. Having a very good-looking legless John Smith lauding the advantages of stumps might net us a cool half million extra per year.

            – Alright. I’ll talk to him. I already mentioned that I want him with two stumps by the end of next year, didn’t I?

            –You did. Put the idea into his head and see if we can get him ready by Christmas.

            – As soon as that? Alright. Leave it with me.

They returned to the sumptuous living room. Judson spoke with Jame and Garret for a few moments and approached Johan. He spoke in German.

            – So, my young one. You wish to have a stump.

            – Yes. I hope I can have a stump like my friend John’s.

            – The same length and with the scars at the back?

            – The same.

            – Very good. We are ready for you. Please come with us and in two hours you will have a stump like John Smith’s.

 

John Smith, Brenton and Chas Decker were left in peace. John Smith’s cast rested on a cushioned stool. Brenton asked Decker if he understood fully how an above elbow prosthesis worked. Decker was not sure.

            – Come over here and look at mine. It is not difficult to understand how it works, but I can tell you that it is considerably more difficult to operate.

            – How long did it take you to learn?

            – Only a few weeks. But I am still learning new things about them. I dare say it will be a few years until I can use these for everything I want to do.

            – That’s what excites me. Being able to use an artificial limb – or in my case, two – to do things which seem ordinary. I want my life to be extraordinary. I want to have the challenge of living with artificial limbs.

            – That sounds very admirable but I don’t think you are going to achieve that with only one arm and one leg prosthesis. To experience the real joy of prostheses, you need a pair. You may be wearing an artificial arm but you can always use your natural hand to position the hook and to adjust its grip. That’s hardly being disabled at all. I’m sure you’d soon tire of the simple actions you need in order to use the one prosthesis. With two, you would feel genuinely disabled – although how much depends on you. Imagine if you had two hooks. You would need to learn how to operate both artificial arms to adjust your hooks before you can use them. After a couple of years, you would need only to glance at your arms to set them as you need but until then, your life would be an entirely new adventure of learning and using the steel hooks instead of your flesh hands.

            – Is that what you experienced?

            – Indeed it is. My prosthetic arms obey me and it seems sometimes that I can feel what I am doing with my hooks. My companion helps with things which hooks are not suitable for, although I can sometimes manage them if he is not around.

            – It sounds wonderful. The challenge is what excites me. I wonder if it would be possible to have both arms off while I am here?

            – Ah, that is something you will need to talk about with Jame. He understands these matters better than me. Your amputations will be tomorrow, starting in the morning shortly after breakfast. If you want a third amputation, the surgeon may have to stay an extra day. It may not be possible.

            – Perhaps it would help if I asked for two below elbow amputations?

            – Not really. Lower limbs are more complicated because of the two bones which need to be shortened.

            – Oh yes. I never thought of that before. In that case, I would like two amputations above the elbows.

            – You have paid for two amputations. You will be keeping your leg this time and leave with two stumps like mine.

            – May I see them?

            – Of course. John Smith! Take my arms off.

John Smith carefully placed his plaster foot on the floor and stood. He held the steel ring on the harness and lifted the prosthetic arms away from Brenton’s shoulders. Brenton moved his short stumps around, displaying them for Decker to admire.

            – Yours need not be so short. You could have longer stumps.

            – You have very beautiful stumps. I think mine should be similar to yours. You use your prosthetic arms well, do you not? There is no reason why I should no be able to do the same.

            – As I said, this is something to discuss with Jame. For the time being, we have to hope he is faring well with the young German.

 

Jame had fared as well as he had hoped. He was repeating the amputation he had performed on John Smith. The patient was another strong and healthy young man who would probably be fully recovered before returning to his family. Garret hand-held his camera, hoping that he could create a different style. He shot close-ups of Jame severing the femur. Jame honed the cut edges of the bone and wrapped muscle tissue around it, concealing major nerves in them. After folding a broad flap of skin over the front of the stump, he stapled the sutures and cleaned the skin before attaching the electrodes necessary for accelerated healing. Judson took the comatose young German to his own room to recuperate while Jame and Garret began cleaning the theatre for the next patient.

 

John Smith sat with Johan for the first three hour shift. The patient was hooked up to an anaesthetic drip and another containing glucose and would be kept in coma for the first uncomfortable forty-eight hours of electrolysis. There was little for John Smith to do other than to admire the sleeping boy and the fresh stump.

 

Later in the evening, everything was ready for a double amputation the next day. Brenton explained that Chas Decker had requested bilateral above elbow amputations instead of a leg and arm. Jame expressed surprise.

            – How are you going to manage until you get your prostheses? Have you thought about that?

            – Yes. My son will take care of me.

            – Will he also be collecting you from Oxford station?

            – He will.

            – Very well. We go ahead tomorrow at ten. Do you know what kind of stumps you want?

            – Jame, Chas said he wants short stumps like mine but I’d recommend longer ones – at least to start with.

            – About fifteen centimetres, then. Short enough to be disabling, long enough to operate prostheses. Are you content with that? I also think slightly longer stumps provide a better body image. The proportions are more pleasing.

            – Yes, I understand your point of view. I think slightly longer stumps than Brenton’s will be more practical.

            – Good man.

 

Charles Decker became a bilateral arm amputee by two on Sunday afternoon. His stumps would be numb, senseless appendages suitable only for attaching artificial arms to. He would never feel anything with them nor would he ever be tormented by phantom limb pain. Accelerated healing by electrolysis had its pros and cons.

 

The four former fellow students left the comatose patients in the capable hands of John Smith and drove into Oxford for a decent meal. Brenton returned by taxi and began his three hour stint. John Smith removed his plaster cast and curled up on the sofa until the early hours. It was a little tiring but keeping vigil over the new amputees was both necessary and gratifying.

 

Johan and Decker were both awakened on Wednesday morning. Johan and John Smith hugged each other and admired the new heavily bandaged stump. Johan would have to wait for Brenton to direct John Smith before he saw the result of his amputation. Decker tried to sit upright and noticed immediately what the loss of his arms meant. He was helpless. Brenton checked Decker’s vital signs and declared everything to be in order. John Smith would be along soon to assist. Decker watched Brenton manipulating his black prosthetic arms and felt reassured by knowing that he too would soon be sporting a similar pair and functioning on his property as before.

 

The next few days were spent cooking and cleaning. John Smith made meals and fed Decker. Johan was happy to feed himself. The bandages were off his stump and the electrodes would soon be removed. The stump was healing well and the scars were losing their livid colour. Johan was initially confused at not being able to feel anything near the tip of the stump until Brenton explained it was intentional and part of the healing process. The two patients were allowed to spent time out of bed during the second week and the foursome relaxed together in the evenings, either discussing prosthetic solutions to their problems or watching training videos. Johan was keen to get his own plaster leg and Brenton asked Judson to call in at the weekend to create one.

 

Judson drove home on Friday evening. He inspected the theatre and the condition of the kitchen and found everything to be spotless. John Smith was thorough and was learning basic medical procedures. He had removed the cannulas from the patients’ hand and thigh respectively. Judson was impressed.

            – How are you managing on your cast, John Smith? Is it secure?

            – It’s fine, thank you, sir. I am wearing a liner and some stump socks and it feels very secure.

            – It doesn’t ride up your stump as you walk?

            – No sir, it stays in place.

            – Good. Let’s hope your friend’s cast will be as reliable. We’ll do it tomorrow morning. You can help if you like.

            – That would be good to learn, sir.

 

Judson inspected Johan’s stump and stated that Johan could spend the rest of his time at Menard House on crutches. John Smith lent him his own pair. Decker’s arm stumps were also healing well. Judson exchanged a few words with Brenton and announced that the patients could leave Menard House the following Wednesday. John Smith typed a dictated message to Decker Junior who needed to drive from the West Country to collect his severely disabled father. Brenton spent a considerable amount of time with Decker discussing prosthetic options and plotting the way forward. He would be responsible for his own post-operative care and reliant on private prosthetists. Johan’s future artificial legs were beyond Brenton’s area of expertise but he assumed that the German health service would be willing to provide a basic prosthetic leg. He would be travelling home with a primitive plaster peg leg which might last him a couple of months.

 

Its manufacture started after breakfast. Brenton had brought the foam lower leg from home the previous week after Johan said he would like a full length cast too. The foam leg was slightly short but the base of the foot could easily be thickened to compensate. Judson explained to John Smith how to apply cotton wool padding and then the plaster bandages. Judson created the ischial support, making sure John Smith understood its importance. Johan’s foot was strikingly thick and short. It was obvious that the plaster did not contain a normal foot. Judson saw to the addition of the rubber walking heel and several more layers of bandage made the foot even heavier. Johan was delighted with it. Judson left the two boys together while the plaster dried.

 

Decker was not as easily fitted with a temporary prosthetic limb. John Smith was attentive and made sure that Decker had food and drinks throughout the day and saw to it that he was clean and assisted on the toilet. Decker was very grateful to the young man and determined to reward him for his care somehow in the near future.

 

John Smith handed Johan the crutches and helped him stand on his cast. It stayed in place for the time being but would later need the addition of a shrinker and socks to compensate for the change in the stump’s size. Johan was clearly delighted with his new status. Judson left the boys alone for a while and then asked Johan back to the bathroom where the cast was removed, the foam leg extracted from the base and Johan’s stump and other leg washed of plaster residue. Judson handed over a shrinker and showed Johan how to roll it onto his stump. After practising a few times, Johan left it off and donned some stump socks and pushed his stump back into the cast. He did not feel he needed crutches. The end of his stump was not in contact with anything and Judson allowed him to wear the cast for the rest of the day. John Smith and Johan went for a ride in the ‘car’ in the afternoon and paid a visit to a coffee shop in Aylesbury where their broken legs attracted sympathy from the lady behind the counter who gave them three scoops of ice cream instead of the two which they had paid for. They sat facing each other, resting their casts with the grotesque bulb-shaped feet on a chair.

 

Judson had left when they returned to Menard House. He had ordered Decker back into bed for another forty-eight hours of electrolysis, which meant that the other three would be staying until midweek after all. Brenton formulated the plan for Wednesday. The son must be reminded to be in Oxford by two to collect his father. Brenton and Decker agreed that he could be left alone at the station in his limbless condition. Brenton would then drive Johan home and return to collect John Smith and close up Menard House. Johan’s flight to Karlsruhe was eight days away giving the two boys a good chance to enjoy each other’s company and stumps. Brenton intended to relax for a while before setting off on a new venture. He also needed to accustom John Smith to the idea of gaining a matching leg stump and persuading him to start wearing a standard artificial leg. The plaster cast was adequate but not especially durable although new ones could be made ad infinitum. It was Brenton’s intention to see John Smith walking on crutches and only one prosthetic leg by Christmas. Before that, they could travel further afield again, perhaps to the wealthy south coast. Plenty of opportunity there to expose their disabilities on the sea front.

 

The day of Johan’s return arrived. Both boys were miserable. Brenton had watched their puppy love turn into a deeper friendship. It was a pity it had to be cut short.

            – John Smith, do you want to drive Johan to the airport, or shall I ?

            – I can do it, sir.

            – Are you sure you know the route? The roads are very busy around Heathrow. Remember to be especially careful.

            – I will, sir. I am always careful.

            – Yes, I think you are.

            – Alright. Johan. It has been a pleasure having you here. I hope you will visit us again.

            – Thank you, sir. I have had a very good holiday with you and I think I have learned more English than if I was in Torquay.

            – I’m sure you’re right. Now, do you have everything you need? Stump shrinker and stump socks? Clothes, camera, phone, wallet?

            – I’m sure I have everything, sir.

            – Time to leave. Goodbye, Johan. Have a good flight.

The two boys hobbled out to the ‘car’ on their still pristine white casts concealing their leg stumps. Johan climbed into the back seat. John Smith lifted his suitcase inside and sat in the driver’s seat. Led lights illuminated the outline of the vehicle as it powered up and Brenton watched Johan peer around as they drove slowly away.

 

John Smith did not want to wait at the airport with his friend. The journey had been almost wordless. John Smith stopped outside the terminal and helped Johan out. They hugged each other.

            – I must go. Good bye, John.

John Smith watched his lover’s back for a few moments and gulped back a lump in his throat. He limped back to the ‘car’ and moved off but stopped again after fifty metres because he could not see through his tears.

 

Johan caused some consternation with his long leg cast. The flight attendants were unsure where the boy could sit until Johan realised the problem.

            – The cast can go in the overhead locker. I can sit anywhere.

He loosened the cast and pulled his stump out of it. He handed the heavy cast to an attendant who lifted it into the locker, sat down and buckled himself in.

 

John Smith arrived home a couple of hours later, red-eyed and looking very downcast. Brenton wanted to take the boy in his arms and reassure him that breaking-up was always difficult and the sadness would pass. But he had no arms for reassurance.

 

Brenton planned their third venture starting in the last week of September. They would journey down to Bognor on the south coast and work their way eastward as far as Hastings stopping in larger towns along the way. The main tourist season was over but there would still be townsfolk around.

            – Will I be on crutches again, sir?

            – Yes, crutches this time too. I have been thinking that it’s time we got you an artificial leg, young man. Would you like to have an old-fashioned leg with a foot you can put a shoe on?

            – Yes sir. That would look good.

            – Alright. We’ll start looking into it when we get back from our trip.

 

The real reason Brenton wanted John Smith to have a prosthesis was that he intended persuading the boy to have his other leg amputated rather higher and to move around on crutches and the yet unmade new artificial leg. A second prosthesis could come later, if the boy wanted one. If he learned to walk successfully on artificial legs, the next stage would be the replacement of his left hand with a split hook prosthesis. Brenton knew how much his own hooks fascinated the boy and was fairly certain that John Smith would function well enough as his assistant companion boasting three stumps.

 

CHRISTMAS 2031

 

John Smith assembled their grand Christmas dinners from his wheelchair. Brenton had bought a low sleek model fitted with propulsion levers. The foot plates had been removed temporarily. John Smith preferred not to wear his artificial leg while using the chair. His long stump almost reached the front edge of the seat but the short new one was hidden beneath the collapsed leg of his shorts. John Smith looked stunning and extremely disabled as he pushed and pulled on the levers to move himself around. His prosthetic leg leaned against the wall in the bedroom. It was the most basic model with a vinyl cosmetic calf painted pink. John Smith used it occasionally when they drove into Aylesbury, swinging it ahead of him as he leaned on his crutches. The short stump remained well hidden. It was as short as Jame dared amputate while bearing in mind Brenton’s demand that it should still be long enough for use with a prosthesis. Brenton was pleased with the result and John Smith was overjoyed to be so utterly crippled.

 

John Smith’s amputation had been the seventh leg amputation which Jame performed that autumn. Garret had given priority to case numbers three and four, a thirty-something gay couple who had found each other on an amputee devotee site and moved in together five years previously. Their Brighton apartment was full of prosthetic paraphernalia and they both wore bilateral hooks intended for theatrical or cinematic use. They slid the sockets over their fists and both of them went out on the town wearing the prostheses. John Smith flirted with them and accompanied them, with Brenton, to a gay leather club where they fondled the long phallic leg stump and masturbated openly, jizzing onto the concrete floor. Brenton’s black carbon arms were much admired, being physical representations of the submission and helplessness tops required of their subs. The gay couple underwent six amputations in October and November. One kept his knees and lost his feet, the other gained stumps similar in length and proportion to John Smith’s. Five weeks later, the footless man returned on artificial legs to have his forearms reduced to half their length. He brought with him a second-hand pair of artificial arms and Jame sculpted his stumps to fit the sockets. The man returned to Brighton with four prosthetic limbs and a happier man had never been seen at Menard House.

 

John Smith was inspired by the sixth prospective amputee. The guy was only twenty and assured Brenton and Judson that he had sufficient money to never have to work. His life would have been boring and predictable so he wanted to fulfil his desire to use prosthetic legs and was shortly the owner of two mid-thigh stumps. He was almost the same age as John Smith and they became good friends during the time John Smith nursed him back to robust health. On the day he left, wearing plaster-of-Paris sheaths on his stumps and hand-walking to a taxi, John Smith asked if he might have a second amputation. Brenton was delighted but did not show it and persuaded John Smith to go a little further than his friend and have a beautifully rounded stump high up near his groin. It would be long enough to sit on but hardly visible.

 

John Smith pumped himself across to the dining table and Brenton pushed a trolley holding their meals. John Smith opened a bottle of champagne and they celebrated each other’s success and drank to their enormous fortune in creating the lives they and so many others wanted. Brenton’s gift to John Smith was the promise of his own artificial left arm in the new year and John Smith gave Brenton a wide eyepatch of the softest black leather.

 

 

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BRENTON HARTER?